The neon sign of the Blue Ridge Cafe flickered with a dying buzz, casting a seizure-inducing blur on the area around. It was 6 p.m. on a Friday night.
Femi stood outside with a small bag carrying his gear.
He could still hear his father's last words concerning this: "Do it without Tunde."
Femi sighed; it was a sound of frustration and resignation. He knew his father meant well, but he didn't understand the ecosystem of the gaming community.
The 'pro' players—the guys with actual clans and synchronized names—were already locked in. They wouldn't take in any new players, even one with major stats like Femi, this close to the tournament.
Femi opened the door and was hit by a wave of cool air and shouts from the gamers in the cafe. He heard the raging of a familiar voice at the corner of the cafe.
He was at his usual spot, screaming at a monitor.
"Cheat! Admin, this guy is using aimbot. Nobody has fast reflexes like that. It's impossible!"
Femi walked over to him and tapped his shoulder just as he was about to punch the monitor in front of him.
"Ah, Femi, my guy! I knew I'd see you again. How far now…"
"I need a squad," he said, avoiding all the unnecessary small talk. "There's a tournament coming up in a few days. I need cash. You also need cash. The prize pool is three million. Are you in?"
"Three million... wait, you want me on your team?" He shot Femi a surprised and incredulous look.
"unfortunately.... My father told me not to, but I don't think he really understands the dynamics and stakes involved. Besides, I need a meat shield," Femi answered with a straight face.
"I am the best meat shield ever, guy!" Tunde shouted at the top of his voice and raised his arms proudly. Everyone turned to him and shook their heads. They didn't expect anything different from Tunde.
"Good. Now we need a second teammate," Femi thought.
He spotted a guy in another corner of the cafe. He was wearing a fake designer cap and knock-off designer clothes.
"Bayo? That guy too get pride. Is he even good sef?" Tunde noticed where Femi was looking and said,
"He has a high K/D ratio, around 2.5—something I can work with."
He started to walk up to Bayo, who was 'educating' a junior player on why the MP40 was a trash gun (it wasn't).
He interrupted him.
"Bayo, how far? There's a tournament. Three million. You in?"
Bayo eyeballed him. With a toothpick in his mouth, he said, "Ah, Harvard boy, you wanna go chill with the big boys, in the big leagues, right? Anyway, I don't carry noobs. So please shift."
"I carried you last week, guy. Check the logs," he answered coldly. "Check the logs. I had twelve kills. You had a measly four."
Bayo scowled but didn't argue further. Three million was too big a prize to argue over.
"Fine. But I'll call the shots." He said with a smirk.
"We'll see about that." Femi was already scouting for a third member.
His eyes landed on a kid who looked like he was in junior secondary school. His screen was so cracked it looked like a spider web. But his fingers...
Man, they were a blur.
He began to watch his gameplay over his shoulders. His movement was so erratic. No strategy. No tactics. No cover usage. He just ran into open fields.
But when three enemies suddenly appeared in front, Femi was surprised by what he saw:
Prakk, prakk, prakk...
Three headshots within a second.
Such a high level of mechanical accuracy.
"What's your name?" Femi asked.
"W-what?... C-Chibuzor…" he answered timidly.
"Well, Chi-Chi, how would you like to make some money?"
-----
Thirty minutes later...
Disaster struck...
"Push! Push! The enemy is low!" Bayo's voice was screaming, disturbing the peace of the cafe.
On Femi's screen, the chaotic reality told a different story. It was a round of three matches, and they were already losing 2-0.
"Bayo, fall back! You're too far out! Wait for the wall breaker to come."
"I have the movement, guy. Don't worry. Watch this…"
Bayo didn't wait. He activated his operator skill, a glowing aura, which boosted his movement and gave him health regeneration. He sprinted straight into the Clock Tower courtyard, zigzagging around, thinking he was actually avoiding enemy fire.
POW!...
An enemy Desert Eagle caught him straight in the face, downing him.
"Tunde! Come and revive me! Quickly before enemies approach my position," Bayo yelled in a panic.
Tunde was as confused as a deer in headlights. He just ran. He wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings; he didn't even drop a Gloo Wall to protect himself or Bayo.
A flurry of enemy SMG fire brought him to the ground before he could even reach Bayo.
"Chi-Chi, give me some cover fire!" he barked at him.
The kid was hiding behind a crate, hard-scoping at a wall, waiting for an enemy that was never going to appear.
Femi sighed.
He triggered his own operator skill, blitzing out of cover, trying to pull off another 1v4 clutch.
He got the first.
Then he got the second. But the third enemy got him when he was trying to reload his weapon.
DEFEAT...
Femi scowled at those letters. He turned his chair to face his team. Even though the cafe had grown noisy, the silence between them was heavy.
"Lag!" Bayo slammed his fist on the table.
"You saw it na, I hid behind a wall. The server was lagging."
"No, Bayo, your brain is the one lagging," Femi said with an ice-cold voice. "You rushed an enemy position without reinforcements, without any cover. You literally died in three seconds."
"I am the entry fragger. That's my job," Bayo tried to defend himself while chewing on his toothpick.
"No, Bayo, you are the loot delivery system for the enemies," Femi snapped back, making Bayo swallow a gulp of saliva.
"And you, Tunde, what in the flying fuck was that gameplay?"
"Bayo was screaming… I-I panicked, you know. I've never been put under this kind of pressure in a game. I'm sorry, okay."
Femi looked up and rubbed his temples.
This wasn't a team; it was a suicide squad. If they play the tournament like this, they wouldn't just lose—they'd be humiliated.
"Listen to me. All of you, including you, Chi-Chi," he finally said after standing up. He gave all of them a hard stare. They were all quiet, and Chi-Chi sank further into his chair, feeling intimidated. "This three million is not for fun. It's for my life. My future. I need this money to cover travel expenses, or my future will go up in the wind. As such, this is no longer a democracy. I am the In-Game Leader now. Whatever I tell you right now is what you execute in the game. Nothing more. Nothing less. Do you guys understand?"
They all nodded, at least.
He grabbed a notepad and slammed it on the table.
"We're playing a specific loadout and meta. No more random skills and guns."
He pointed at Bayo.
"You like to run, right? You'll be our distraction. You'll use the Rhythm Aura active and Sprinter passive skills. You go out, draw fire, retreat, and heal up. You survive, okay? Your job is to draw fire for me to shoot. To be annoying."
"I can do annoying," Bayo huffed but agreed.
"Good. Now, Chibuzor…" The little guy shrank even further into his chair. "Your aim is *God-tier*. The best on this team, but you have zero game sense. You'll run Sonic Wave and snipers, as well as the Tagger and Silencer passives. You'll stay behind to break enemy walls and spot enemies for me to move in and finish off."
"The wall breaker? Alright, Senior Femi…" Chi-Chi whispered.
"Alright. And don't call me that, please. It's embarrassing."
Femi then turned to Tunde.
"You'll be our lifeline. Equip Heal Circle and Quick Help-Up passive skills. You do not run out. Play passively. You throw the circle on Bayo when he inevitably gets himself knocked."
"Whatever you say, boss," Tunde responded with a mocking salute.
"This guy ehn…"
"What about you?" Bayo asked while crossing his arms.
"I will be the Executioner. I'll run the Dash Burst skill. Then, when Chi-Chi breaks the walls, I'll dash in to clean up the mess."
Femi sat back down and put on his headset. His eyes were different now. He was no longer the guy that listens to Hans Zimmer; he was something different. A predator.
"We're loading up Clash Squad now. I want to see y'all implement these commands into your gameplay. If anyone deviates, he'll have me to answer. Head in game."
The difference was immediate…
Round 1
"Bayo, bait!" Femi commanded.
Bayo activated his aura, sprinting wide, drawing gunfire. "Over here, you noobs!"
"Chibuzor, Breach!"
A wave of sonic energy exploded from Chibuzor's position, dissolving the enemies' ice walls instantly. The enemy squad was exposed and confused.
"Now."
Femi activated his skill. Dash. Dash.
He blurred forward, closing the gap in a millisecond. His MP5 sang. One down, two down.
"Tunde, circle on Bayo!"
Bayo had been knocked, but Tunde threw the healing field perfectly. Bayo was picking himself up as Femi finished the last enemy.
BOOYAH.
Femi exhaled, a small, tight smile touching his lips. It wasn't perfect, but it was a strategy.
"Again," Femi ordered. "We have forty-eight hours to become a machine