Page 112 of Reflections of Peonies
I’d never played this edition. The controls were identical, 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.
Then Bryce snickered as we waited for my character to respawn, and all bets were off.
“You’re so dead,” I growled.
He stopped laughing, and the instant my controls allowed, I was after him.
“What the hell?” Bryce asked after his character died ten seconds later. His relaxed pose shifted, and suddenly, he was leaning forward, bashing on his controller in mild panic. And after he lost another two of his ten lives, the laughter had left his voice. “Stop doing that!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, lying forward on my stomach. My legs dangled off the end of my seat behind me, and I bent my knees and hooked my ankles above me as I played. I’d found the perfect vantage point and took him out once Bryce’s character was in view again.
“You’re camping!” he complained. “That’s cheating.”
“No, it’s not,” I said. “If it were cheating, it wouldn’t be possible.”
“You can still cheat!” Bryce protested. “Anyone can play a sniper.”
I sighed. Since he was such a baby, destroying him this way wouldn’t be fun. Then he’d only whine forever.
So I gave in to his demands and followed him over the map.
Of course, he still complained. Bryce had resorted to button-mashing, but it made no difference. “Stop stalking me!”
“Fine,” I replied, “I’ll just use a knife instead.” And this time, his character was killed with a blade in the back. “Is this better?”
“How are you doing this?” he asked.
“It is only a fool who writes off their opponent as having no value,” I replied. I’d cornered him once more, and Bryce was forced to respawn. “Let this be a lesson to you, lest you are tempted to forget.”
I hummed as Bryce grimaced at the screen. Someone began speaking behind me, but the voices were too low to hear.
“Stop talking!” I tossed a grenade after Bryce’s fleeing soldier. “He can’t afford the distraction, he needs all the help he can get.”
“This game is stupid.” Bryce sounded upset. “I don’t want to play anymore.”
“See it through to the end,” I said. “No one in the Dubois family is a quitter.”
“Don’t mock me!” Bryce protested.
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 turned dark, and the final score flashed across the top, proving my point.
“This isn’t fair.” Bryce tossed his controller on the seat beside him and pouted.
In comparison, everyone else was staring at me, open-mouthed. “What?”
“What was that?” 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. “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.”
Miles pinched his nose. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Baby girl.” Damen knelt in front of me, his eyes twinkling alarmingly. “When did you—”
I pointed at Finn, interrupting his question.
