After we got our tags and schedules, we split off and received our spots where we were in the tournaments. Fortunately, Michael was in the same area as Lawrence, which I felt relieved about since Michael still wasn’t feeling 100%. Mike needed more support than I did while on the opposite side. It didn’t mean anything; we were just on different sections of the bracket.

What if the two of us were in the finals together? That’d be wild.

I sat among the audience in a giant conference hall, checking my watch every other minute. Gaming stations were peppered throughout the venue with video game and soda advertisements everywhere. They had a moderator at each station. My match was up in ten minutes, which was enough time to find my spot.

It was the first round, best of 3 games, single elimination. 4,000-some odd- entrants total. I took my spot and shook the moderator’s hand at my station.

“Wow, man, you look pretty young,” the moderator said.

I felt old and mature, but this guy made me feel like a child. I still hadn’t hit much of a growth spurt. “Uh, I’m fourteen.”

“Wow, just barely made it then. So this is your first Elite Crushers tournament?”

“I’ve watched some live before, but this is my first time playing in one, yeah.”

“Well, good luck, little dude.” He gave me a fist bump.

I bit my tongue. I wanted to rip into him for the “little dude” remark.

A kid around my age approached us decked out with a hat full of colorful pins of different characters from Elite Crushers and a backpack with even more flair.

“Hey, I’m KitCats,” he said.

“Is that your real name?” I asked.

He let out a shrieking laugh. “No, it’s my gamertag. My real name is Steph. Nice to meet you. Are you combatant 3,282?”

“Yes, and you must be 2,644?”

He nodded his head.

“It’s time. Please choose your characters,” the moderator said.

I selected my secondary main, Soul-Steel. He had a chrome helmet that reminded me of a wasp, and plated armor with the same color. He had a sword the size of his torso that glowed red and blue depending on the attacks. Like all the other Elite Crushers characters, Soul-Steel looked like a futuristic athletic robot. His finishing maneuver was stealing the opponent’s soul with a lunging stab. Hard to pull off the button combo, but I had it memorized like my telephone number.

Steph picked Ice-Rings. Ice-Rings had white armor as the default costume, with blue ice rings floating around the wrists, the ankles, and one around the head like a halo. Ice-Rings’ finisher could freeze you to oblivion with a barrage of ice chakrams.

I let Steph pick his stage: Frozen Palace. It was a tournament-regulated stage, which meant there were no gimmicks or background actions that could alter the course of the match. Just a platform and a few other platforms made of ice. There were a handful of tournament-approved stages. My favorite, which was illegal to play, was a stage called Abandoned Space Station. It was banned because, occasionally, a laser would be fired at an awkward angle across the screen, usually an instant kill.

As soon as we started the fight, I was nervous. The intensity of the tournament sank into my brain officially. My palms soaked the controller, but I had to focus. Steph’s Ice-Rings dashed left and right. He had skill behind the analog stick. But I jumped right in, Soul-Steel’s sword slashing Ice-Rings apart with a quick combo, but it did hefty damage.

“C’mon, stupid! You’re such an idiot!” Steph shouted. “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to myself,” he said to me with an accusatory tone. It almost sounded like he was holding back tears.

I dodged the ice chakrams flying directly at me with surprising precision. Then with a seven-button combo, I unleashed the Soul Stab. Sparks exploded all over the screen, and shrapnel flew from the sight of the wound. Ice-Rings had their soul leave their body and float into the background of the ice-bricked palace.

Soul-Steel stood calm and straight, sheathing his sword.

“First game, GordieHoward,” the moderator said.

Just barely. Steph had some talent. I had to bring my A+ effort and focus. Before starting the next game, I wiped off all the sweat from my hands and controller. I stayed with Soul-Steel, even though I could have changed characters.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m playing against a Soul-Steel main. That doesn’t happen too often,” Steph said.

I quietly said, “He’s actually my second favorite character.”

“Okay, sure.” Steph laughed.

But it was true.

Before we started the next match, Steph became misty-eyed and chose a different fighter. He picked Mad-Cat, which I had a feeling he would. It was the only cat-like character in the game.

Mad-Cat had the movements and stature of a tiger-like robot. He had black and red stripes on a silver metallic body. The eyes glowed red and he had massive claws, specializing in close-quarters attacks.

I selected the next stage, not that it made a difference. It mainly was a preference of which background the player liked better. I preferred a location with a little more color than different tones of blue and purple (unlike Frozen Palace). I selected The Star’s Edge, a single platform with a lot of space above. The background was a star morphing into a black cloud and then exploding into a nebula. It didn’t make scientific sense, I don’t think, but there was a dazzling array of rainbow colors.

In the next match, Steph’s Mad-Cat lunged and clawed at Soul-Steel. I lost a chunk of health. Pieces of metal shot off of Soul-Steel’s body. I mashed buttons on my controller to escape, dodge, and counter his combos, but my health-bar dwindled. Sweat poured out of my hands. Then my controller slipped from my grasp as I tried an elaborate counter maneuver. Mad-Cat’s claws glowed a blood red and dug them into Soul-Steel’s chest. Sparks gushed out, and Mad-Cat marveled at the chunks of metal caught in its finger blades.

“Second game, KitCats,” the moderator said.

I took a deep breath, and I selected my main character Obsidian-Golem. Steph remained with Mad-Cat. I chose The Star’s Edge again since loser got to pick.

Obsidian-Golem was a dark-violet plated cyborg, short and sturdy. He had red eyes, and his hands formed clubs that could increase in size, and the mighty whacks he delivered dealt significant damage. He was slower than Soul-Steel, but he always felt perfect, like he was designed with me in mind.

When the next game started, I could dodge with Obsidian-Golem better than others, moving with a quickness that surprised Steph. As I escaped the attacks, the club on Obsidian-Golem’s right arm swelled, and then after ducking to avoid Mad-Cat’s swipe, I smashed the club over Mad-Cat’s head. An explosion of violet obsidian rock crushed Mad-Cat to the ground. I followed it up with a few haymakers, finishing off the match.

Steph didn’t get a single scratch on me.

“Game 3 goes to GordieHoward, who will advance to the next round,” the moderator said. He tapped away at his tablet.

Steph’s mouth was open, and tears formed in his eyes. Part of me felt terrible.

He shook my hand. “Good game.”

“Good game. Sorry about that.”

Steph gave me a dirty look. I wasn’t sure why I apologized, but I guess I did because he was crying. He turned away and left, and the moderator smiled at me. “You did good, Gordie. Not too bad for a fourteen-year-old.”

I nodded and smiled awkwardly.

“Your next game will start in about two hours. Feel free to walk around, but meet back here. I’ll be your moderator again for your next matchup. Congrats, man.”