Page 122 of Hidden
“Yeah, thanks.” I tried to smile. At least he wastryingto be nice.
Bryce scoffed, and my hatred flared again.
Then the game was starting.
It took a few minutes to orientate. I’d never played this edition. The controls were essentially the same, so it only took a few minutes to pick things up. And yet, no one had protested—not even when Bryce’s avatar had chased mine across an ivy-covered bridge and shot it in the back.
I’d lost a life, but that was fine. And the fact I was being trusted to handle Bryce in my own way made me feel powerful.
Then Bryce snickered as we waited for my character to respawn, and all bets were off.
“I am going to murder you,” I growled.
The snickering stopped, and the instant my controls allowed, I was after him.
“What the hell?” Bryce protested after his avatar died ten seconds later. He didn’t even have time to spot me before it happened. His relaxed pose shifted, and suddenly he was leaning forward in his seat, holding the controller out in front of him in mild panic. And after he lost another two of his ten lives, the laugher had left his voice. “Stop doing that!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’d found the perfect vantage point, and once Bryce’s character was in view again, took him out.
“You’re camping!” he complained. “That’s cheating.”
What a sore loser. “If it were cheating, it wouldn’t be possible. This is a computer game.”
“You can still cheat! Anyone can play a sniper.”
I sighed. Since he was being such a baby, it wouldn’t be fun to destroy him this way. Then he’d only whine forever.
So I gave in to his demands and moved to stalking him over the map.
Of course, he would still complain. “How are you doing this?” Bryce had resorted to button-mashing, but it made no difference. He was defeated, and this time his character was killed with a knife in the chest.
“Only a fool writes off their opponent as having no value,” I replied. I’d cornered him once more, and once again, Bryce was forced to respawn. “Let this be a lesson to you, lest you are tempted to forget.”
“Do they even remember they’re playing a video game?” Brayden was speaking to someone behind us.
“I don’t know, but I’m so turned on right now,” Miles responded.
“I don’t want to hear that,” Brayden said.
“Don’t distract me!” I tossed a grenade after Bryce’s fleeing soldier. “He still has lives left!”
“I don’t want to play anymore.” Bryce sounded upset.
“I don’t care,” I said. “No one in the Dubois family is a quitter.”
“Don’t mock me!”
As much as his distress thrilled me, the fun was soon over. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I pointed out. “You’re dead, and I win.”
The screen darkened and the final score flashed across the top, proving my point. As if there were any question.
“This isn’t fair.” Bryce was pouting.
In comparison, almost everyone else was staring at me, open-mouthed. “What?”
“What wasthat?” Miles asked, stepping toward me. There was a look of wonder on his face—almost as if he couldn’t decide whether to hug me or run away.
I glanced at the controller in my hand, then back to him, frowning. “A first-person shooter game. Some people play them to relieve stress. Others because they have repressed violent natures and want to kill something. I just think it’s fun.”
