Champions, Craftsmen, Campaigns and Catastrophes
Copyright© 2026 by FozzieBare
Chapter 12: Distant Thunder
Marcus smiled as he put the final touches on the press release announcing that ThunderRoad had officially returned to World of WarMachines, and that he was forming a guild to take the Universe at War mode by storm. He had even precleared everything with Kelto, just to make sure there would be no unfortunate contractual surprises this time around. The negotiations had gone surprisingly smoothly.
Well, mostly.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it. Just make sure he doesn’t break any more of our rules.”
A pause.
“And should we disagree again, please do not refer to us as motherfuckers.”
Marcus had graciously agreed to consider that request. Getting Adrian to agree had taken considerably more work. Not because Adrian needed convincing that he still loved the game. That part had become rather obvious. The man had gone from power leveling other people’s WarMACs to throwing himself back into Arena fights with the enthusiasm of someone rediscovering an old addiction. But power leveling was no way for Adrian Mercer to make a living.
It was like asking a two-star Michelin chef to work at a fast-food restaurant. Technically, it was still the same industry. Technically. Adrian’s bigger objection had been that he didn’t want to disrupt an established team or guild just because ThunderRoad suddenly wanted back into competitive play.
Marcus had waved that away.
“Who says you have to join someone else’s guild to get back in the game full-time?”
That had stopped Adrian. Marcus had seen the exact moment the question changed shape in his head.
It still took some fast talking after that, but Marcus had every objection covered. With all the attention Adrian’s recent duels had generated, people were not going to leave him alone any time soon. So why not turn that attention into something useful?
Something profitable, hopefully. Something fun, definitely. And the money helped.
When Marcus had finally tracked down Adrian’s apartment, he had needed to keep his reaction off his face. Kelto really had dropped the ball when they banned him. Adrian Mercer was the sort of player you could have handed a team in the then-new WarMAC League and told, Build something. Marcus had little doubt the result would have made megabucks. Well ... More megabucks. Kelto had done quite well without him, Marcus conceded.
Still, six months of guaranteed salary would help Adrian considerably. So would the other arrangements Marcus had already made. He had leased a floor in a mixed-use residential and business building and hired a crew to convert it into a combination of living quarters, guild training center, and gathering space for whatever in-person insanity the new organization eventually got itself involved in.
The guild still needed a name. Preferably one Marcus could market. It also needed members. And equipment. And probably several dozen things Elias would identify within five minutes of being handed a budget.
Marcus gave the whole venture about a three-quarters chance of at least breaking even. That was the business reason. There were others. One of them was the sort of reason no self-respecting agent particularly enjoyed admitting to himself.
I fucked things up for you once.
Marcus stared at the press release for a moment.
I’m doing this because it makes sense for everybody involved. But the fact that it helps you makes screwing things up the first time sting a little less.
Adrian had told him repeatedly that he didn’t blame Marcus. They had both missed the clause. They had both signed the contract. Marcus had always wanted to give the same response.
Well, that makes one of us.
Adrian might not blame him. Marcus did. That mistake had cost Adrian a full-time career. By all rights, it should have cost Marcus his own career as well. Instead, Marcus had caught lightning in a bottle with PomBux. One tournament victory had become another client, then another, then another, until somehow Marcus Hale had turned into Marcus Hale. Adrian had never gotten his equivalent second chance. Maybe this could be it. Not charity. Adrian would hate that. Not repayment, either. Marcus wasn’t arrogant enough to think six months of salary and a shiny new guild could erase what had happened. Just an opportunity.
And Marcus thought he had finally found the right way to offer it. He wasn’t trying to crowbar Adrian into somebody else’s organization. He was giving Adrian something he could help build. That mattered. That mattered a LOT.
If Adrian joined someone else’s established structure and things went badly, Marcus could easily imagine him shrugging, saying, “I knew this wasn’t going to work,” and quietly stepping away again. But give Adrian a problem that was partly his? Give him something unfinished? Something he could improve?
Oh, no.
The problem wouldn’t be convincing Adrian to stay. The problem would eventually be convincing him to slow down.
Marcus smiled again.
And then there was the other surprise.
A little extra seed money to give the guild a proper kickstart.
His smile widened.
This was going to be FUN.
Elias Voss had spent the days since that fortuitous lunch meeting in a blur of motion and planning.
First came his old job. He told them he had accepted a position with another organization and apologized for the short notice. He hoped there were no hard feelings. There weren’t.
Turnover had always been a problem there, and apparently simply explaining why he was leaving instead of vanishing one morning already put him ahead of some former employees.
They promised him a good reference. Told him that if the new job didn’t work out, he’d be near the front of the line for future openings. They even cautiously asked whether a better title and more money might convince him to stay.
Elias thanked them but declined.