part three: May 20 - The Tournament South Bend

Nick and Jim hurried down the street to meet up with the rest of the squad.

Jim laughed. “I’ve created a monster. I’ve been playing this game for over a year, and in three months you’re a squad leader and we’re in the tournament. I never thought I’d ever be in a tournament. I practically had to beg you just to try this game, and now you’re dragging me down here every day.”

“Well, you were right about one thing: I needed to unwind. But now I’ve put so much time into this tournament that my GPA has started to dip. As soon as this tournament is done, I have to get my GPA back up where it belongs.”

They waited in front of the coffee shop, the bright spring sun warming the street. Nick turned to Jim. “You’re my second. Remember that.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jim said, pointing down the street. “Here they come.”

Nick had started visiting the game room every day after school. After his second visit, he signed up for a personal account, then dipped into his savings to buy top-of-the-line gaming links for both himself and Jim.

As with everything else Nick did, he excelled at the game. He climbed the ranks to squad leader, recruited a team, and convinced them all to sign up for the upcoming tournament. The team spent hours preparing. Nick drilled them until every member recognized each hand signal and had mastered every routine and weapon in their arsenal. His squad couldn’t believe he’d only been playing for three months—some of them had been at it for years.

Nick had heard of the game before. It was known for its extreme violence and questionable legality. The kind of thing that had never appealed to him. It was way outside the comfort zone of his squeaky-clean, Eagle Scout persona. He’d never done anything risky. But once he started playing, he couldn’t get enough. He told himself he wasn’t addicted—he just wanted to try something different before heading off to college.

Jim had invited him to the game shop the local players called the Back Door. After just one round of Urban Legends, Nick was hooked. He began to spend every spare minute he could squeeze out of his strictly regimented day logging in to play.

Not only did Nick devote every free afternoon to practicing at the game room, but he had also recently started skipping classes to prep for the tournament. Over the last couple of weeks, his grades had dropped significantly. Enough that his parents were called in for a meeting about the absences and slipping performance.

That’s when Mr. and Mrs. Havill learned their son had become obsessed with an online game.

Nick’s father had flipped. “You’ve been skipping school to sit in a game room playing some asinine war game? What’s gotten into you?”

Nick tried to explain. “My grades are still good, and my team and I are preparing for the tournament. Once it’s over, I’ll put all my attention back into school. I can make up the few points my GPA dropped during finals. The tournament is next week and finals are the week after. My team is counting on me. I’m the squad leader.”

Needless to say, his parents weren’t buying it. So Nick had no choice but to go behind their backs.

He carefully lined up all his ducks. His parents would be in meetings all day, without open links for school notifications. By the time they got word that Nick had been dismissed early for illness, the tournament would be over. He’d be home, in bed, looking pitiful and studying his notes. Ducks one and two, in a row.

Duck three: Liza had promised to share her notes, so he’d have them by the time he got back. Now all he had to do was get to the game room.

Most of the team had managed to skip class. Their parents weren’t as strict as his. They had coordinated this for weeks. If they placed high enough, they might even qualify for the International event this summer.

The team met at the coffee shop and ordered the largest Colombian dark roast on the menu, with extra espresso shots, then loaded up on sugar to stay sharp. With caffeine and adrenaline pumping, they made their way to the game room. Dozens of squads were already arriving.

Everyone sat at their assigned station, logged in, and waited to receive their assignment. Nick glanced at the clock: 9:25 AM.

Their task: infiltrate an enemy town, take down police and military facilities, eliminate vital services, and capture prisoners. Nick’s team drew the antagonist role. They would have to defeat the local protagonist.

Jim groaned. “I don’t like being the bad guy.”

“Just remember what you always tell me—none of this is real, it’s all strategy,” Nick reminded him. “Besides, to beat a bad guy, you have to think like one. Who knows what the next round will be? We have to be ready for anything.”

Jim frowned. “Yeah, I guess. I just never get comfortable with the violence that comes with the bad guy role. It’s easier being the good guy.”

Nick looked around the control station, then up at the clock. 9:28 AM.

“Alright, everyone. We’ve worked for this. We’re ready.” Most of the squad nodded enthusiastically. Jim looked up at the clock—9:29 AM—and nodded. “Okay. Here we go.”

They all entered the game.

Nick felt a jolt, then he was spinning out of control. He thought he was going to be sick.

Then everything went black.