Twenty minutes later, the room had settled down, and finally, they were getting around to playing Smash Brothers. Alan had been treating Sawyer like a medusa, keeping watch on her from the corner of his eye, but desperately trying to avoid directly looking at her. He thought he remembered hearing that predatory animals were provoked by eye contact.
On-screen, Sawyer's Falco – for the uninitiated, a sci-fi anthropomorphized bird – you know, a furry, but with feathers – with a laser pistol and a Radical Attitude straight out of 1993 – landed a jump kick on Bill's Falco, sending him rocketing off the screen with a plume of light and a yell of “GAME!” from the announcer. Bill set the controller down on the coffee table, and walked over to Clive.
“This is your fault.”
“Oh?” Clive said. “You main Falco. She wanted to play Falco. My conclusion followed, Bill.”
Bill sighed. “I'd have just switched to Fox.” For context, dear reader, Fox is another furry character from the same sci-fi franchise, the main character rather than the lancer / grumpy badass, and as a fighter in Smash Brothers, mostly the same, minus a few nuances that only mattered to true fighting game enthusiasts. Which was most of the room, but still.
“And why is that, Bill?” Clive asked, a smirk growing on his face. Even Sawyer could sense the drama brewing in the air, and those of them who were gathered around the television watched in fascination.
“What do you mean?” Bill said. He was already blushing, and his jaw had clenched like a monkey wrench.
“Oh, come now. If you lose as Falco, it matters. If you lose as Fox, you have an excuse.”
This was, of course, a conversation that occurred in millions of rooms across the years in the fighting game community, and to a lesser extent, anywhere video games were played. If an older sibling defeated a younger sibling, it was never, ever the younger sibling's fault – instead, it was the fact that they had an inferior controller, or that the game favored Player One, or any number of things.
“Fuck you, I'm not Johning, I…” Bill trailed off.
“Lost fair and square?” Clive said, smiling.
“Fuck you. Again. Even more.”
Clive leaned back in his chair. “Maybe, if you ask nicely.”
Bill blushed, perhaps more than could be adequately explained in a model of physics wherein he was entirely straight. He tried to formulate a counter-thrust, failed, and sulked off to the corner of the room. Clive got out of his chair, and went over to him. It wasn't clear what was being said, besides it being apologetic.
Sawyer cleared her throat. “Okay, I've secured my place, who else is in? Four-way free for all, Hyrule Temple, all items on.” Given that Bill and Clive were occupied with the ramifications of their fighting, the rest of the slots were easily occupied. Steve, from his spot over the (hopefully diffused) bloodstain in the couch, had been holding the third controller for ten minutes, and Jeff had been holding onto the fourth, a wireless controller, from the kitchenette of the hotel room, since shortly after he'd entered.
There were only two people left.
Alan sat on the opposite end of the couch from Steve, both of them trying to leave Sawyer as much room as possible in-between. He'd been semi-catatonic this whole time, taking in the world around him but saying little about it.
Jack, who'd been sitting in front of the coffee table, between it and the television, turned around. “I mean, if no one else is,” he said, reaching towards the purple controller on the table.
Sawyer snatched it away before his hand could get within a foot of it, and handed it to Alan. The power of gamer instinct grasped the controller tight, without a single input from his brain. Alan turned, still not quite willing to look into Sawyer's eyes, but gazing, by the attempt, at the tip of her nose. “Why?”
She slapped him on the thigh, and it sent a shockwave up his body. “Because it's fun. Come on, play.”
Alan wanted nothing so much as to run. Or, maybe, for Sawyer to not be here at all. Or, even better, for this to be… Normal. Like the opposing ends of a magnet, his mind tried to probe at whatever he was feeling, sliding off again and again.
“Good boy,” she said, laughing a little to herself.
The characters people chose in fighting games told more about themselves than they were willing to admit, or more, even, than they knew. Jeff picked Pikachu – a manipulative bastard of a character, with a propensity for control over chaotic situations and defensive actions. Steve, unsurprisingly, picked Kirby – a character who'd been considered overpowered in the previous game in the series, allowing him to dominate his high school, from which he'd hardly matured at all. Alan had bounced from character to character over the years, but eventually settled on Jigglypuff, who he picked nearly automatically at this point. Jigglypuff, a Pokemon, was incredibly good at taking advantage of any slip-up by their opponents, locking them into a long combo, and/or hitting them with high-risk, high-reward attacks.
Sawyer, at this point, was expected to pick Falco, considering that she'd just fought someone for the rights to him, but instead, she went one letter beyond, and picked Captain Falcon.
The second she selected the spandex-clad hero of a mid-90s racing game, the room tensed. Alan knew, Jeff knew, Steve knew, Jack knew, and while they were otherwise occupied, Bill and Clive knew just how much of a choice this was. The character was dangerous, able to abuse invincibility frames and strong attacks to take over a group battle, even moreso than the top-tier 1v1 force that was Falco. In other words, Sawyer knew her shit.
Within the space of a minute, she'd already taken a life off of the three of them. This, in turn, drew their attention. In a multiplayer game such as this, threat assessment was key – if someone was the clear winner in a fair contest, it was the duty of the rest of the players to make it as unfair as possible.
In response to the sudden focus, she withdrew to a defensive position. As she weathered the assault, she elbowed Alan. He'd been staying at a distance, ineffectually throwing long-range attacks at her.
“What, do you want to live that badly?” she said.
Alan bit his tongue, and threw another projectile at her.
Jeff and Steve stood at the other two entrances to Sawyer's hideaway. “You're at 5 lives, and we're at 4,” Jeff said. “Strategically, you need to die.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Try me, then.”
Jeff, insulted, lunged. With a few swift moves, Sawyer grabbed his character, throwing him and bouncing him off of the ceiling, which aligned him perfectly with a flying knee attack, ricocheting him off of two more surfaces and to his death.
Steve let out a battle cry as Jeff respawned, charging directly at Sawyer. She dashed past him, and delivered a flaming punch to the back of his head, disposing of him off the same edge of the screen that Jeff had exited via just moments before.
Now, Alan was the only person within striking distance, and Jeff and Steve showed no signs of moving.
“Come on, dude. Go for it,” Steve said.
Sawyer grinned at Alan. “Yeah, give it a shot.”
Alan's mind connected dots that he really shouldn't have. Was there anything in the world that said he had to die at Sawyer's hands? Fuck no, there wasn't. She'd have to earn it.
He tumbled into the arena, and she struck out at him.
Alan dodged to the left, phasing straight through her character, and followed it up with a punch to the right, just barely connecting with the edge of her hitbox. It sent her character flipping up into the air for an easy combo. Alan bounced her off the ceiling, floor, and a wall or two, before landing a finishing blow that sent her off the stage.
“Not bad,” she said. “You're still gonna lose.”
Alan was aware of this. She was the #1 threat, and by going after him, Sawyer would either destroy him, or establish him as the new greatest threat, making his friends pounce on him.
Steve poked her in the back with a tentative sword strike.
“Are you sure about that?” Alan said, dashing up the length of the stage, and swinging his fist towards her character.
She dodged out of the way. “Backup or not, I've got you,” she said, landing an incredibly heavy strike against him. He rocketed off, losing another life. It was little consolation that she'd left herself vulnerable, being juggled back and forth between Jeff and Steve, and consequently being slaughtered. She was a life down from them again, but still one above Alan.
“Dunno, leaves you pretty vulnerable,” Alan said. How could she just… kill people? If Sawyer could get away with chainsawing that voice actor, Alan could get away with killing that cosplayer. For fuck's sake, she'd done murder, and at the worst, his kill could be called manslaughter, or negligent homicide – far better, as far as he was concerned.
In the gap of time between dying and respawning, Sawyer looked to her chainsaw. “I can finish them and then you, you know.” On sound queues alone, she grappled Steve, and used a combination of flip-kicks and a flying knee to annihilate him. Jeff tried to run, but she caught him with a thrown weapon, and dashed to him before he could recover, combo-ing him into oblivion.
“See what I mean?” she said.
This is fucking stupid, Alan thought, charging at her. He landed another combo, bouncing her around, but she air-dodge cancel-ed her momentum, and caught him in her arms.
“You're too easy,” she said, throwing his character into the floor. He bounced off, and like a particularly unfortunate balloon, floated into the path of her fist. Another life gone.
At this point, she'd equalized herself with Steve and Jeff, leaving Alan alone in danger of an immediate loss. Before Alan could do anything, Steve and Jeff had charged her again, both being dispatched with ease, leaving them all at one life, and Sawyer at three.
She walked slowly towards him.
“Oh, come on,” he protested. “I don't deserve this.”
“Yes,” she said. “You do.”
Alan did not want to lose. He dodged, rolling across the arena, until he'd positioned himself behind Steve. Steve would protect him.
Steve tried.
Steve failed.
“Well, shit,” he said, setting his controller on the table.
Alan sprinted towards Jeff, and safety. Well, he thought it was towards safety. What it really was was towards a meaty headbutt from Jeff, that sent him across the arena. Sawyer, in hot pursuit, kicked Jeff clear off the screen.
He set down his controller. “It's up to you, now,” he said.
Alan was at one life, with a fair amount of damage, and Sawyer was still at three.
Until…
Sawyer threw her character off the edge of the screen, dying.
“Uh, what the fuck are you doing?” Clive said, from across the room.
And she did it again.
“Oh, shit,” Steve said.
She grabbed a bomb off the floor of the arena, and threw it at herself. By the time the damage was calculated, she was at the same health as Alan. Then, she stood at the top of the arena.
“Come on, Alan. Fight me.”
Alan stayed where he was. He could feel the heat of her body, less than six inches away from him, and he couldn't process what the fuck that meant to him. He didn't want to move. He just wanted everything to stay the way it was. That'd be the nicest way for this to all end, wouldn't it?
She threw herself at him.
Alan attempted to dodge, and was caught in a grapple.
He was thrown into the ceiling, and on the rebound, landed a Rest – the most powerful attack in the game. With a satisfying ring, Sawyer rebounded off of every available surface, gravely wounded.
But not dead.
She charged at Alan. He tossed out a slow punch, designed to catch her with just the slightest tip of it. She was weak. Anything more than nothing would have been enough.
Sawyer dodged.
And Alan died.
“Fuck yeah!” Sawyer said, tossing the controller into the air. Jeff cried out in concern, but Steve answered with a “woo!”, cheering the controller's arc through the air, laughing as it ricocheted off the thermostat.
Sawyer and Alan pulled out of the next match.
She leaned back, and whispered into his ear. “You know I'm not letting you leave this room without me, right?”
Alan closed his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” She said. “Don't you have anything else to say?”
To those around them, it looked like she was whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Considering that none of the bystanders had seen this happen to Alan before, it was a sacred activity that could and should not be disrupted.
He thought about this.
“At the end. Why'd you give me a chance?”
Her cheeks perked up. “Very good question, Alan.” She stood up, and bowed performatively at the assembled crowd. “I'm truly sorry,” she said, smiling, “But I've got to take Alan away from you.”
Steve laughed, and gave a Fonz-like “ayyyy” in Alan's general direction.
“You really don't,” Alan said, as she yanked him to his feet.
“Don't be a pussy!” Steve said, and while they didn't verbalize it as such, the rest of the group assented. Alan's eyes flicked to each of them, begging them to find a way out, but all he could find was the memory of Sawyer threatening to eviscerate each and every one of them to get to Alan. She tugged on his wrist.
Now was the moment.
Alan could try to escape. He could punch her in the face. He could run, he could do any number of things, and put Sawyer's threats to the test. But he couldn't see any of it ending well. By the strength of her grip on his wrist, by what he'd seen her do, she could toss him into a wall and incapacitate his friends before he fell to his knees.
Alan turned to his friends. “Sorry, guys. I've gotta… We…”
“Have places to be,” she said with a wink, and yanked Alan off. He couldn't keep his feet steady, and each step forward fell into her positioning, throwing his weight into her arms, where she pushed him into every step he needed to take. She marched him out the door, grabbing her chainsaw off the couch as they went.
“You really don't have to,” Alan said, without an argument behind him.
“I really do,” she replied. “You're going to follow me to the elevator, and we're going to work the rest out there.”
And he did.