Chapter 5: Gorilla Warfare, Part Two

Amy stretched out after taking a nap on the couch she kept in her room at Reforged HQ. It wasn’t as comfortable as her bed, but it was good for catching catnaps during the day and didn’t leave her as groggy as sleeping in a bed might.

She had found that taking a “working rest,” putting some mindless entertainment on the TV and just lying there listening to it with her eyes closed, was surprisingly relaxing. It helped greatly when the guild’s plans called for off-hour attacks.

She wasn’t like Adrian. She wasn’t used to pulling all-nighters all the time, although she had pulled a couple since moving into Reforged’s guild space.

She paid for them afterward.

So she had made it a goal to approach these sessions as well-rested as possible. Her body had hated the irregular schedule at first. It would have much preferred keeping regular hours, but while Elias was apologetic about that, he had also made it clear that they couldn’t schedule the night attacks for everyone’s convenience.

It depended on who was available on a particular night, who could stay up, where the Blades were vulnerable, and what situation developed. Her crew varied from day to day. Sometimes Amy didn’t know what her schedule would look like even thirty-six hours in advance.

So she did the best she could.

Hopefully it would end soon.

That depended on the Blades, though, and they were unlikely to be thoughtful enough to let their opponents get a good night’s sleep. Somewhat fairly, they probably figured that if they had to stay up all night defending against Reforged attacks, then Reforged had to stay up all night making them.

Amy threw on some proper clothes before stepping out of her guild bedroom. The guys probably wouldn’t have cared if she appeared in sleepwear. There were only five of them regularly using the guild spaces.

Still, no sense making anyone uncomfortable.

Besides, getting dressed made it feel a little more like, Hey, it’s time to work.

And a little less like, God, I have to deal with those Blades schmucks again tonight. Why did I agree to do this?

Truth be told, she could do all of this from her bedroom if she wanted.

Her computer wasn’t as good as the machines in the Pit. Of course, not many people’s computers were that good.

Except Kevin’s.

But hers was certainly more than capable of running World of WarMachines. It was what she had used for all the years before she joined this gang of lunatics.

And Kevin.

Then again, saying lunatics and Kevin was really going over the same thought twice.

Still, working from the Pit was important to her. She had known gamers who did the work-from-home thing entirely from their bedrooms.

That usually caused problems during quiet periods because there was a nice soft bed RIGHT THERE, and obviously nothing was going to happen, right?

Then something happened.

And things went to shit quickly.

Amy yawned one last time and padded out of her room, past the communal kitchen and into the Pit. Normally she would have stopped to make coffee, but tonight she felt like something carbonated.

She opened the mini-fridge.

Hmm. Almost empty. Time to do some shopping, I guess.

They could have used grocery or restaurant delivery services for practically everything, but they tried to keep that to a minimum. Delivery cost extra, and food runs gave them an excuse to get out of the building and remind themselves that a world still existed beyond the game.

Even if the game was way more fun.

Or had been, before the Blades started throwing a fit about being out-thought at the tournament.

Amy hated this whole campaign for several reasons.

It messed with her sleep.

It kept her from doing her usual arena training with Adrian.

Between his own off-hour campaign work and the need to remain available whenever something went wrong, Adrian was even busier than she was.

That said a lot.

She missed testing herself against the best training partner she could find. A five-minute arena battle with Adrian could turn into a thirty-minute debrief as they replayed the fight and walked through their respective decision trees.

Why did you move there?

What did you think I was going to do?

What told you I’d changed plans?

What would have happened if I had done this instead?

Amy had learned a LOT during those sessions. More than she had in all the professional coaching and training she had received before signing on.

And she really disliked the Blades.

Not just because they were assholes.

They were certainly that.

They were disrespectful assholes.

Adrian and Elias took the brunt of their attacks, and Amy was glad most of it slid off them like water off a duck’s back.

Weirdly enough, part of her was angry that she hadn’t earned the same treatment.

Instead, she was dismissed.

Ignored.

And when she DID get mentioned, it was usually crude.

They wondered whose “side piece” she was. As if she hadn’t earned her position through skill, but because of some mythical talent in the sack.

It made blowing them up rather cathartic.

Every burning WarMAC she left behind and every base she recaptured was her own private screw you toward the Blades.

Amy slid into her chair, took the first sip of her soda, and started the log-on process.