Nic learned two things during the Wargame called Power Play: Team Scarlet and Team Xanthic, regardless of their differing levels of experience, appeared to be on a level playing field of skill. They issued each other challenges and both sides rose to the occasion. It was a close contest between them.

The second truth that Nic had gleaned from Team Free-for-All, one that ate away at him, one that he could never divulge to his team for fear of breaking their morale... as tough of an opponent as Team Xanthic would prove for Team Scarlet, Team Tyrian was in a league beyond them both.

If he and his squad wanted to win, they’d need to play at a level they’d never reached before, and hope that the representatives from Purple Colonies weren’t holding anything back.

Only time would tell that much.

SCARLET: 24 | >TYRIAN: 35 | XANTHIC: 23

Nic glowered at the climbing score in his HUD, grateful that none of his squadmates could see the look on his face right now. He couldn’t even blame their predicament on bad RNG; while he had gotten his fair share of unexciting loadouts, such as a standard SMG/Pistol combo with a Jetpack or Overclock, he’d also been blessed with some broken combinations. Sniper/SMG with Ultravision, allowing him to smite enemies across the map that he never would have seen otherwise. Shotgun/Pistol with Incognito, letting him sneak up and ambush targets at a close range. And he’d gotten his hands on a Rocket Launcher twice.

As much as his instinct wanted to blame Tyrian’s lead on luck, his intellect wouldn’t allow it.

“Team Scarlet, status report,” said Nic.

“I just respawned,” said Perri. “Sniper Rifle and Pistol with... Overclock.” Not a great combo, Nic thought. Overclock is good for covering a lot of distance fast. Sniper works best when you stay put and shoot something far away.

“They got two Rocket Launchers in play now,” said Jarek. “And both of ‘em have Jetpacks. That ain’t good.”

“Why not?” Perri replied. “I feel like the Jetpack is a pretty niche Upgrade.”

Nic opened his mouth to answer when Jarek took the lead for him. “Aerial attacks. Biggest risk when you got a Launcher is hitting yourself with splash damage. Jetpack lets you gain as much distance as you want and rain hellfire on your target. That’s why they keep stackin’ kills like this.”

“What are the odds that two players on their squad were graced with such a winning combination?” Maqsud wondered aloud.

“Slim,” Nic answered. And then it hit him. “That’s because they weren’t. They’re scavenging from other dead proxies.”

“Should we do the same?”

The Squad Leader pondered that for a moment. He remembered how in the Precision game mode, desirable equipment was used as bait to lure Team Scarlet out of cover. “Yes, but be cautious about it. And only if you feel you can’t use what you’ve already got effectively.”

This late in the Wargame, the battlefield was littered with unused Upgrade Paks, some damaged but still salvageable, as well as scattered weapons of varying levels of ammunition. Nic favored the Armorizer above all other Upgrade Paks, and he enjoyed wielding the Rocket Launcher as well as the Shotgun. He was confident with those weapons. Their diversification of sim training to sharpen the squad’s skills did nothing to erase preferences or talents.

“I see a Rocket Launcher up for grabs,” said Jarek. “South end of the field.” “Litte scorched, but it could still be useable. Permission to retrieve?”

“Granted,” Nic answered. “Perri, give him some covering fire with your rifle. Let’s see if we can bait the baiters.”

“That... did not sound right,” she giggled, and then added, “but I’m on it!”

“[I have EMP Grenades,]” said Shanti. “[What players should I target?]”

“Any that cross your path,” said Nic. “Unless they’re airborne—they’ll be harder to hit with the EMP radius. If you manage to paralyze any, finish them off as quickly as possible, but don’t get too close. You might do damage to yourself from the residual shocks.”

“[Okay.]” Even with her thought-to-speech cranial link, Scarlet 5 was enigmatic as ever. Nic could never get a good read on her emotions, whether she was supportive of an attack plan or against it, or if she even felt such things at all. But he was glad that she followed directions well.

And so Nic dispatched his squadmates to the far reaches of the battlefield, moving them from here to there like chess pieces. Jarek was his Rook. Hard-hitting and straight to the point. Perri was his Bishop, attacking in a similar fashion but from sometimes unexpected angles. Maqsud was his Knight, of course, what with the more complicated and calculated moves he was wont to make. He hesitated to think of Shanti as a Pawn; then again, she was meek and quiet, yet still capable of doing some damage.

He wanted to act as the Queen for his team, the most dynamic and powerful of them all, leading their charge into victory. But sometimes he felt like a King. Weak. Slow-moving. Someone to be deferred to without really having earned it. Someone to issue orders.

Try as he might to issue the right ones, the gap wouldn’t close.

SCARLET: 36 | >TYRIAN: 44 | XANTHIC: 34

Team Tyrian continued to dominate the map with their Jetpack/Rocket Launcher combo that worked so well for them. In the course of the Wargame, they commandeered additional Upgrade Paks and Launchers until there were at least three of them hovering around at all times. It made catching up to their score feel like a doorway at the end of an ever-elongating hallway in a dream.

One Tyrian player, Severiano, approached Nic from above, a rocket at the ready. I wanted to save this, Nic thought with a frown. Oh well.

“Upgrade Activate!” Nic yelled just as Severiano’s Rocket Launcher spat angry flames.

The projectile exploded directly on Nic’s proxybot, dealing what should have been lethal damage to even a proxy at full health... but Nic’s favorite Upgrade Pak gave him just the protection he needed.

NIC [100%]

“That was a good move,” said Severiano, his Jetpack sputtering at the end of its life. He used the last bit of juice in it to soften his landing back on the stony Nereus ground. “It won’t save you. But it was good timing. Good reaction speed.” His voice unnerved Nic; not only did it sound incongruously aloof, given the stakes of this match, but there was age to it—age and the fatigue that came with it. Severiano lifted the Rocket Launcher with his finger on the trigger.

“I wouldn’t shoot that if I were you,” Nic warned. “You’ll just kill yourself along with me, and you’ll lose out on that Launcher!”

“It’s okay,” Severiano replied calmly. “We can spare it.” Nic was stricken again by the lack of emotion. It was nothing like the way Team Azure’s Edith taunted him, or Team Malachite, or even the competitive barbs he’d exchanged with Team Xanthic today. There was no pleasure or malice in the Tyrian player’s voice, no disdain for an opponent. It was all business. “Good game, Nic.”

“If you,” Nic sputtered, “i-if you—” But he no longer had anything to threaten his enemy with, and it didn’t matter anyway. The explosion blew them both to smithereens.

We can still win this, Nic thought. We’ve come back from worse. He waited in the dark to respawn. We can still win this! Every game is winnable! At this point, he was trying to convince himself that it was true.

When the ten seconds came and went, and he still remained in the black abyss, he knew that it was over.

SCARLET: 37 | >TYRIAN: 50 | XANTHIC: 37 GAME OVER TEAM TYRIAN: VICTORY!

A strained hiss and a flush of light. His SimSuit deflated, going limp like an animal playing dead, and the synthetic skin went from form-fitting to a shapeless bag dangling from his frame.

Jarek rubbed his temples, wincing. Maqsud did the same with a spot on his chest. Shanti stared blankly, just like she did every time they lost, and Perri wore a scowl of general malaise.

“Those explosions do be convincing,” Jarek grunted, shaking his head in a sudden violent shiver. “Ugh. Got a kink in my neck now...”

“The last Tyrian player to kill me said ‘good game,’ though,” Perri muttered, stepping out of her suit. “So, at least we have that.”

“Good game,” Nic scoffed bitterly. If typical psychological warfare, the usual in-game taunts, got under his skin, these two simple words burrowed their way under his muscles, scraped down to the bone. Even the worst trash talk gave him something to engage with—not so in this case. These words were not angry. Not scared. Not amused. Not even in the spirit of sportsmanship, it seemed. Just something said as an afterthought to someone who is neither a threat nor even a source of sadistic entertainment.

It was this feeling of smallness, of insignificance, that burned him more than anything.

TEAM FREE-FOR-ALL SCARLET: 1 | >TYRIAN: 2 | XANTHIC: 1

said RTIFIS.

“You comin’, Nic?” Jarek asked at the doorway of the Simnasium. The others had already left.

“You go on ahead,” the Squad Leader replied. “I’m gonna... practice a little until the next round.”

Jarek eyed him warily. “You sure that’s a good idea, boss?”

“You don’t have to join me. But this is how I choose to spend my break.” Nic shrugged, feeling like an addict justifying his vice. He could see the judgment and the worry behind Jarek’s eyes, but it was that friendly concern that bothered him the most in that moment, for some odd reason he didn’t know. On the verge of losing the biggest match of his life, Nic just wanted to be left alone.

“Your call, boss,” Jarek answered after a long and awkward pause. He rapped twice against the Simnasium doorframe. “Just lookin’ out. See you in a few.” With that, he was gone.

“RTIFIS, please load Wargame sims.”

If they want a good game, Nic thought, then I’ll give them one.