If the Gauntlet Fits

My character, you are the ‘real’ Pak.

I couldn’t do what you are doing. I’m thankful that I have you to enact my mission, while I sit with my broken limbs, tired eyes -I feel my throat bleeding.

Yeung-Sung cupped his neck softly, rubbing it as he watched his golden avatar draw forth his bow. He watched the single-mindedness in the characters gaze as he reached around his back, past the satchel at his side and around his belted sickle. He snagged an arrow out from his quiver, snapping it into the drawstring. Yeung-Sung smiled at his characters efficiency, at the same time visualising how painful it would be to do something similar himself. Against his arm’s protest, he formed a fist. Clenching, the pain powered his resolve, as jolting brush-strokes of paint created the image of Jordan clearly in his mind. The GLI leader had given him Airgead and his avatar within it. He had also given him this pain, though Yeung-Sung was starting to be thankful for that.

You couldn’t know, my character, the extent of my plan, the hurt under my skin that drives me, but I know you’ll obey. That you will help me to defeat Jordan.

I wonder how you feel about that? He is your creator, in a way; Though there have been coders and artists that worked on what you actually are, the idea of you originated from him. Or, if John is to be believed, his wife. If she is your mother, yet it is me now with her number, -#1000- me who controls you instead, then how do you feel?

Do you resent me?

The gauntlet always took place in a calm clearing. Yet the encircling trees rustled, a fake and unemotive response from the world, reminding Yeung-Sung that this was just a game. A game devoid of wind, hunger or a bitter chill. Even the arrow that he shot past was not strong enough to shake the leaves naturally; There were limits to this design and after all, and his avatar was not fully a god.

And neither did the party of barbarians waver in the face of the attack, but instead continued their swagger closer. They could sense another victory, the thick foretelling of it ingrained on their faces. They smirked at Yeung-Sung’s avatar; at the equipment he had brought.

He let them take in the sight of his avatar holding the bow in his hands after firing for the first time, no mastery, no progress in the skill. They were especially glad to see that the avatar was laden with several bulging packs that would slow down any escape. After the arrowhead fell in beside the feet of the frontmost warrior, he exchanged greedy grins with the rest of his team and they eagerly broke into a run.

No retaliation. That’s nice.

His turn came again, so Yeung-Sung had his avatar draw up another shot, staying in the same spot. The clink of bottles rang out as he reached back again, like an audience hurrying to take their seats at the beginning of a show. Yeung-Sung slowed the gauntlet-time to a tip-toe as he judged the angle of his next attack. He glanced at two warriors mid-run, staring out of the screen with their eyes held open by the time dilation.

The bowstring croaked as his avatar pulled it back.

The phone stuttered. With two pinched fingertips, Yeung-Sung fanned the speed of time like an accordion, while also having his avatar strafe around -his control was nowhere near Wil’s- until he lined up the heads of both Warriors behind each other, then shot.

As soon as he made the attack, Airgead went stubbornly back to real-time. The warriors winced as it spun overtop, tracing a line through their scalps. Each instantly had their hands on their heads, feeling the scratch and breathed out a sigh, wiping the trickle on their robes. They ran faster after that.

They expected to die!

Again, the retaliation period passed without any attacks against him, but then the barbs stopped, within arm’s reach. In his time-dilated turn, he stared at the two warriors before his avatar, frozen in their snarls. The left one held two axes low in a pounce while the right took a more guarded stance behind his rounded, bearskin shield. Then, looking at their features, he noticed that these were different modelled barbs to the one’s Wil fought.

This Gauntlet hasn’t been beaten, but Wil killed most of them. Why change the models if it’s the same level, unless -Those barbarians! They can’t be -they aren’t dead, are they?

Caught by this conclusion, he delayed acting long enough for an axe swing to have half-way closed the gap to his avatar’s chest. He panicked, trying to reassign the attack to hit his helmet but, swiping too far back, Airgead instead decided that he selected his quiver. His eight remaining arrows fluttered to the ground, along with one of his satchels. But Yeung-Sung didn’t linger on it and played out his next turn.

Wheeling away, the golden avatar slung the torn straps off his back. He dived both hands into the larger satchel hanging off his left and took out two different globular bottles, holding them by their necks. Covered by brown parchment, their contents splashed about inside. One, the demi-god smashed at his feet, the other he lobbed up into the rest of the gathered party, further back, preparing a full team assault.

A towering column of smoke billowed out in front of him. It took up the entire screen, obscuring Yeung-Sung’s view of his avatar and, more importantly, the enemy. Manoeuvring the camera to find a suitable angle he frowned, until a shimmering outline was provided for him by the game system.

Thankfully! That was so frustrating.

He hoped that would be similarly frustrating for the barbarians. As he motioned his avatar away from the smokescreen, he removed a bandage that had been sticking down over his face, throwing the sweaty thing out the window without looking. Yeung-Sung was far too focused on tapping the time-dilation -On-Off-On-Off, searching for signs of an enemy wading through.

Did that use up my turn? It wasn’t an attack, right, but it was an action. It must have. Right?

As his helmeted warrior backed out, Yeung-Sung couldn’t help expecting on of the barbarians to emerge from the grey and slice his character open.

I’m vulnerable, I’m so vulnerable.

His avatar held his arm around the satchel to prevent the sound of his bottles clinking against each other and exposing him. But a hollow ruffling continued to sound out, so he pinched his hand tighter against it like he was closing the lips of a child.

It’s thinning out. I need to make my move.

The battlefield slowly came back into view in spreading patches. As soon as Yeung-Sung spotted his fallen satchel, he slammed on the dilation. The warriors mut have wandered away from it in the confusion, luckily, and so he swiped a movement line towards it. His avatar seemed to respond with the urgency of Yeung-Sung’s decision and had already approached it by the time the last of the gas cleared and the barbarians had gotten their bearings. He stuck out his hand to lift it when the avatar stumbled over and dropped his left satchel, clattering the dozens of bottles in it against the dry ground.

Yeung-Sung dilated the Gauntlet.

What happened -my strap! It’s been cut!

He swung the camera behind his avatar. A barbarian, shorter and filthier than the rest of them held a dagger sideways in one hand and waggled a strip from his satchel in the other, grinning.

I need that! How did I miss him?

He switched the trajectory to his dropped satchel, but cancelled his action when he just about noticed the train of arrows coming from afar and dodged his character out of it. A third point in a perfect triangle between him and his satchels, Yeung-Sung switched between either view. Following the flight path, both warriors from before were catching up to the action and the assassin walked forward, rolling his dagger through his fingers.

This one.

The glowing avatar leaped toward the satchel dropped earlier, thrusting his hand into it. He curled his fingers around the cork of the first potion he found then, looking back, he was struck in the side of his helmet.

Yeung-Sung cried out through his apartment window as he saw the sparks fly from his avatars skin. “What? No, I don’t get it. The archer wouldn’t be ready yet, who hit me?”

Grinding his teeth, he found his manners not to wake the block up in the middle of the night. The Wick Regulars need to see that I am serious. I can’t fail now; I’m almost set up! Maybe…maybe I can play this to my advantage.

Yeung-Sung’s character faltered over the head of a throwing axe as he retreated. He gasped, a fleshy pink emerging beneath his golden skin and faced away from the barbarians. Bent over in a half-crawl his caved-in helmet dug into his skull when he would use a hand to push off, to stay ahead of the barbarians. However, his other hand still held the potion and Yeung-Sung soon forced him to take it in. He wiped his mouth, peeled back the helmet and howled, some of his shimmer returning, and returned to hurtling along Yeung-Sung’s invisible lines.

Even wounded, his avatar was still a demi-god. At the edge of the Gauntlet’s clearing, he stopped, letting out giant lung-fulls of air while the potion continued to do its work. Holding himself steady -with a hand against the invisible wall of the arena- he slipped his sickle out from under his belt. Then he turned back to face the barbs.

Let’s see.

Strangely, the raid party hadn’t chased him at all. Back in the centre of the clearing, they had all rushed towards his dropped satchel and were busy rifling through it. The short assassin cradled his arms, shelving as many potions as he could’ve and waddled proudly through his group, passing them out. At the last one, the dirty barb caught the still-glowing avatar’s sight and jeered, urging them all to lift up their potions in a pagan toast. In a chorus, from the safety of their group, they uncorked and eagerly slurped down their share.

Mocking me, eh? They really hate us.

Yeung-Sung walked his avatar boldly forward, watching him tense his grip. He brandished his simple farming tool and the party began falling over in laughter.

Idiots.

They kept laughing and spitting, bent back and drinking. Yeung-Sung kept his avatar walking. Their laughs went hoarse and turned into coughs; they went from bending over in joy to retching on all fours. Blood gurgled up out of their throats as they rolled around in dirt and broken glass. Still, Yeung-Sung’s avatar kept walking.

The warriors had fallen first, probably because they drank the most and had a reputation to uphold. Then the archers. The druids in their flowing robes looked concerned even as the poisoned liquid touched their lips, but they still drank. Even so, the party crumpled over almost together. All except the short assassin, who was so busy serving that he never picked up a potion for himself.

He twirled his crooked back in disbelief and even tried to hold up his friends as they were falling. Kneeling over his partners, he pried open their eyelids, shaking his head, whispering, denying. When he heard Yeung-Sung’s avatar approach he sprung up, the tallest that Yeung-Sung had ever seen him and squared his shoulders. Yeung-Sung considered how he would fight one on one before switching on dilation.

But the assassin had already struck. A blur of something left his hands. Yeung-Sung sighed and drew his attack line regardless.

It’s fine. One barb doesn’t pose a threat.

Thick pillars of smoke broke open at his avatar’s feet. Hovering a finger over the screen, he looked for his opportunity when the screen tore. It cracked. His avatar disappeared into the grey and thick lines of dark red coated the screen, eventually saying,

[DEFEAT]

Yeung-Sung smacked his forehead against the window frame and closed his eyes. His thoughts were…empty.

He had been ignoring the night cold this entire time, his body so full of adrenaline, but now it started to creep and seep and penetrate deep. Through his feet, through his hands.

“It was going so well. I…I expected to win?”

He blew out white wisps into the night as he pondered the question.

“Damn it. I did, I wanted to win and -and, it was going so well!”

“I have to try again; I was so close. It was…”.

He sighed, tucking his legs inside and allowing the window panel to slide back into place.

“They got me. I am playing Airgead.”