Lena showed up at Tom's Café the next morning at 9 a.m. sharp, banging on the door until Old Tom let her in. She was wearing the same Nova Arena hoodie, but this time, she had a backpack slung over her shoulder, stuffed with energy drinks, granola bars, and a crumpled piece of paper with a list of "Team Rules" scrawled on it in neon pink marker.
"Rise and shine, Ghost!" she yelled, dropping her backpack on Elias's desk with a thud. "We got work to do. We need to find two more people for the team. And a name. And a sponsor. And—"
"We don't have a team," Elias said, sipping his coffee—black, no sugar, just like he liked it. He'd been up since 6 a.m., playing practice matches, his wrist throbbing, but he didn't mind. For the first time in years, he'd slept through the night without dreaming about the championship, about Victor's sneer, about the word "cheater" painted across his screen.
"We do now," Lena said, slamming the list of Team Rules down in front of him. Rule 1: No camping (except when it's cool). Rule 2: I get to be the assaulter (no arguments). Rule 3: We beat Steel Dawn. Rule 4: No eating smelly food in the practice area (looking at you, Old Tom). "See? All we need are two more people. A support and a defender. Oh, and a sniper! Wait, you're a sniper, right? Kinda? Sometimes?"
Elias raised an eyebrow. "I'm a commander. I snipe when I have to."
"Whatever," Lena said, waving her hand dismissively. "Point is, we need a team. And I know just where to find people. The Nova Arena Amateur Tournament is this weekend. Tons of washed-up players and rookies looking for a team. We'll find someone there. Promise."
Elias hesitated. He'd avoided tournaments—amateur or professional—for three years. The thought of standing in a room full of people, all staring at him, whispering "cheater" under their breath, made his chest tight. But then he thought about Victor, about Steel Dawn, about the way Lena's eyes lit up when she talked about the game. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.
"Fine," he said. "But if this is a disaster, I'm going back to streaming for 17 viewers."
"It won't be a disaster!" Lena said, grinning. "It'll be epic. We're gonna be the best grassroots team ever. The Thunderclap! That's our team name. Thunderclap. 'Cause we're gonna hit 'em fast and hard, like a thunderstorm!"
"Thunderclap?" Elias repeated. "That's the best you got?"
"Hey, it's better than 'Ghost and the Pink Tornado,'" Lena said, sticking her tongue out. "C'mon, let's go. The tournament's at the mall. And if we're lucky, we might find someone who can actually play. Unlike you, old man."
The mall's gaming center was a chaotic mess of neon lights, loud music, and teenage boys yelling at their screens. Lena dragged Elias through the crowd, her eyes scanning the room for potential teammates. She stopped in front of a kid sitting alone at a table, his glasses slipping down his nose, his fingers flying over the keyboard—so fast, Elias thought he might break it.
"That's him!" Lena whispered, pointing. "Marcus Chen. I watched his streams. He's a support main. Best healer in the amateur scene. Also, he's a med student. So if you get hurt, he can fix you. Win-win."
Elias watched Marcus play. His in-game character was a Supporter, moving silently around the map, dropping health packs and setting traps, his movements precise, his timing perfect. He was calm, methodical—everything Lena wasn't. And when his team started losing, he didn't yell or panic. He just typed in the chat: "Focus on the left corridor. I'll drop a health pack there. Defender, set a trap at the door."
"He's good," Elias said, impressed. "But why's he playing alone?"
"'Cause he's a nerd," Lena said, loud enough for Marcus to hear. He looked up, his face turning red. "Sorry! Not a nerd. A… smart guy. Who needs a team? Like ours. The Thunderclap!"
Marcus pushed his glasses up his nose, eyeing Lena suspiciously. "The Thunderclap? Never heard of it." He looked at Elias, and his eyes widened. "Wait. You're the Ghost. Elias Thorn."
Elias tensed, waiting for the sneer, the accusation. But Marcus just smiled—nervously, but genuinely. "I watched your old matches. Your tactical plays… they're why I started playing support. I wanted to be the kind of player who could back up someone like you."
Lena pumped her fist in the air. "See? I told you! Marcus, join our team. We're gonna win the amateur tournament, then the regional league, then the world championship. And we'll beat Steel Dawn. And you'll be the best support ever. Please?"
Marcus hesitated, glancing at his screen. His team had just lost, and his teammates were spamming the chat with "noob" and "quit the game." He sighed, closing his laptop. "Sure. Why not? My current team's a disaster. And… it'd be cool to play with someone who actually knows what they're doing." He held out his hand. "Marcus Chen. Support. Medic in training. And I don't eat smelly food. Usually."
Elias shook his hand. "Elias. Commander. Sometimes a sniper. And don't listen to Lena's rules. Camping is allowed. Sometimes."
"Hey!" Lena said, but she was grinning. "Now we just need a defender. Let's go find someone. Someone tough. Someone who can take a hit. Someone who—"
She was cut off by a loud crash. A girl with short blonde hair, wearing a military-style jacket, had just slammed her controller down on the table, her face red with anger. "Are you kidding me? You call that defending? You let them destroy the hub! I could do better with my eyes closed!"
"That's her," Lena whispered. "Olivia Cole. Former military kid. Defender main. She's tough. Like, really tough. Also, she's a little bit scary. But in a good way. Probably."
Olivia turned around, her eyes narrowing when she saw them. "What do you want?" she said, her voice sharp. "If you're here to mock me, save it. My team's already done enough of that."
"We're not here to mock you," Lena said, stepping forward. "We're here to ask you to join our team. The Thunderclap. We have a commander (the Ghost!), a support (Marcus!), and me (the best assaulter ever!). We just need a defender. And you're perfect. 'Cause you're tough. And you don't take crap. And you can actually defend, unlike those losers on your old team."
Olivia looked at Elias, then at Marcus, then at Lena. She crossed her arms, her lips twitching—like she was trying not to smile. "The Ghost? The real Ghost? I thought you were banned. Or retired. Or dead."
"Retired," Elias said. "For now. We're playing in the amateur tournament this weekend. Looking to win. Need a defender who can actually hold a position."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "And if I join? What's in it for me?"
"You get to beat up on bad players," Lena said. "And we'll beat Steel Dawn. And you'll be part of the best team ever. Also, Marcus can fix your controller if you break it again. He's a med student. He's good with hands."
Marcus's face turned bright red. "I fix medical equipment. Not controllers. But… I can try."
Olivia laughed—a short, sharp sound, but genuine. She held out her hand. "Olivia Cole. Defender. Former military brat. And if any of you try to slack off? I'll make you run laps around the mall. In flip-flops. In the rain."
Lena shook her hand enthusiastically. "Deal! Now we just need a sniper. And a sponsor. And a practice space that's not a back-alley café. And—"
"One step at a time," Elias said, but he was smiling. A real smile, not just a faint upturn of the lips. He looked at his new team—Lena, loud and chaotic; Marcus, calm and smart; Olivia, tough and no-nonsense—and for the first time in three years, he felt hope. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe they'd lose the tournament. Maybe Victor would mock them. Maybe he'd get hurt again.
But maybe—just maybe—it was worth it.
"C'mon," Lena said, dragging them toward the food court. "First order of business: pizza. We're a team now. Teams eat pizza together. And then we'll practice. And then we'll win. And then we'll be famous. And then I'll get a neon pink sniper rifle. Deal?"
Elias shook his head, but he was laughing. "Deal."