Chapter 9: The Spring Tournament

A few days before the tournament, Reforged team members were surprised to find Adrian tapering off their training sessions rather than pushing them harder. Near the end of one session, he explained why.

“We’re going to be getting on an airplane for a short flight to Las Vegas, where the tournament is being held. The flight itself is only ninety minutes, but when you count checking in at the airport, waiting for the flight, picking up luggage, checking into the hotel, getting our credentials, and confirming our roster on-site, travel can eat most of the day. It might have been quicker to drive, but at least in an airport you can walk around, so I decided a short flight, even with the hassles of security and airports, beat a four-hour drive.”

He indicated their control rigs.

“Make sure you pack your control rigs securely. Rather than take them in your luggage, Marcus has hired movers to bring all that stuff straight to the convention center where the tournament is being held. Pack for three full days, either in a suitcase or, for those of you who travel light, a large duffel bag or backpack. We’re landing pretty early in the afternoon, so we’ll have plenty of time to check in, get our credentials, and make sure all our stuff arrived successfully. They’ll have backup gear for people who forget theirs, but I know gamers, and even if it’s the exact same make and model as your control rig, it will feel different to you.”

“Right now, our goal is to make Finals Day. If we win three straight, we’re through. If we lose, we drop into the elimination bracket, and depending on when that happens, we could be playing as many as five matches in one day. Second loss and we’re out. If we don’t qualify for Finals Day, then we’ll have a day to sightsee, but remember that a lot of the nightlife Las Vegas is famous for is twenty-one and up, so a few of you won’t be able to do everything Vegas has to offer.”

He cast his eyes over everyone.

“I know this goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway. Remember that your behavior, both at the tournament and in general, reflects on our organization. I don’t think any of you are the types to get roaring drunk and do stupid things, but this is a business trip, first and foremost. You are professional players. Act like them. Hopefully, we’ll play well enough that the only sight we’ll see is the main stage on Day Two. Trust me, if we get there, it’ll be something you remember for a very long time.”

He waited until everyone had indicated acceptance, and then Elias took over the floor.

“Let me also warn you, it’s going to feel VERY different while we’re over in Vegas. I’ve made a couple of trips there for one of my old jobs, before we created Reforged, and it will hit you immediately when you get off the plane. Not many airports have running slot machines in them. Las Vegas prides itself on being one of the gambling capitals of the world. A lot of the hotels are built around giving customers reasons to stay around the casino complex and gamble more. Like Adrian said, we’re professionals, so act professionally. If you’re of legal age and want to gamble, go ahead. But don’t wager anything you’re not willing to lose. We don’t really want to have to give someone an advance on their salary so they can eat because they spent all their money on roulette or blackjack. My advice? Focus on the tournament. We can always come back another time. Tournaments are special. Vegas will be there if we want to make another trip.”

Kevin finished off the briefing.

“I’ll be the coordinator for any activities we do while we’re down there, like going out to eat or whatever. That lets Amy, Adrian, and Elias concentrate on being ready to play. And I’m going to be the one to balance out the advice they just gave you.”

He considered his words.

“Well, not the warnings. But I will say this instead. Right now, you probably have a massive pit in your stomach because, in less than ninety-six hours, you will be playing Reforged’s first official match as a semi-professional team. That’s not something to be worried about. That’s something to be proud of. You’re here at the ground floor. How far will you go with us? Who knows. But I’m hoping there will be a day when you can say with pride, even if you’re on another team or you’ve stopped playing for a salary, ‘I was there for Reforged’s first match.’”

He looked at the players, who looked nervous.

“That’s something they’ll never take from you. So relax, play your game, and remember, you guys earned your way here. It’s the same game you play every day. Remember to breathe, remember to have fun, and remember to be proud when you do something good.”

Adrian couldn’t resist tweaking Kevin.

“And Kevin with the words of wisdom, despite the fact he’s not playing in this tournament.”

That brought laughter, and a reply from Kevin.

“Well, someone has to be the one to keep everybody in line...”

Amy snorted.

“Wait. Kevin, keeping OTHERS in line? Have we landed in bizarro-land?”

Kevin immediately hammed it up.

“Me Bizarro Kevin. Me tell others NOT to chase each other down hotel hallways with fire hose turned on.”

Everyone laughed, and the mood lightened, just as Kevin had hoped.

Travel Day was chaotic. Everyone had shown up at Reforged HQ very early to make sure they wouldn’t miss the chartered bus to the airport. The nerves were apparent, and folks couldn’t even relieve their tension by playing games in Arena mode because their control rigs were packed securely in boxes on a truck being driven to Las Vegas. So there was a lot of chatter about the tournament, the other teams they might face, and what it would be like to play an official match streamed to potentially thousands of viewers at once.

The tournament offered a free main feed, which concentrated on the main stage in the convention center, where the biggest teams would normally be assigned. However, every match would be streamed on at least one feed available to subscribers to the WarMAC League streaming service. There were four playing areas in total, so the opening eight matches had to be broken into two flights of four. Reforged would be in the second flight. After that, four stages would be enough for all remaining matches to be played concurrently.

But eventually, the appointed hour came, and everyone piled onto the bus. Adrian noticed with concern that the usual joking and banter were missing.

It’s starting to hit them. They’re now on the way.

He had a quick whispered conversation with Amy, but neither of them could figure out how to break the ice. So they turned to Kevin.

Kevin grinned. He pulled out a pair of Bluetooth speakers and his phone.

“Already planned, boss man.”

He turned in his seat to face the rest of the team.

“There’s an ancient Reforged tradition that has to be upheld. On the trip to the airport, people are randomly selected and must perform a karaoke song of their choice. And as you know, with the long and storied history of Reforged, traditions like this must be upheld. Since all of y’all are likely going to chicken out if I select you first, it falls upon me, your recreational advisor for this trip, to start things off.”

He then pressed play, and everyone started laughing.

The freaking Bee Gees?

“Stayin’ Alive”?

Kevin even mimicked the falsetto with varying degrees of success. Reuben Kinders, one of their later signings, did the disco-pointing dance in his seat during the chorus. Everyone tried their hardest not to laugh too loudly because they wanted to hear Kevin do the “Ah! Ah! Ah! Stayin’ Alive! Stayin’ Alive!” chorus.

After the song finished, he got a round of applause, and would have received a standing ovation, but the bus had a sign asking people not to stand while it was in motion.

Kevin looked around.

“Okay. Do we have a volunteer? Trust me, you don’t want me to select someone. Then I’ll select the song, and it will be something even more embarrassing than Barry Gibb!”

Cass raised her hand.

“Ooh, ooh! Pick me! PickmePickmePickme! I want to do it!”

She whispered her song choice to Kevin, and he looked at her with respect.

“You sure you want to do it?”

Cass nodded.

“Just find the karaoke version. I don’t need the lyrics on screen, but I can’t compete with HER voice.”

That caused some raised eyebrows among the team. What would Cass do? Some Lady Gaga? Taylor Swift?

Oh no.

She went back to a classic song that even dedicated singers had trouble doing on the spot.

Pat Benatar.

“We Belong.”

And she nailed it. No one talked. No one cheered. She nailed the lyrics. She nailed the notes. Everyone was awestruck.

When the final chorus faded out, there were three or four beats of silence, and Cass started to look worried.

Then the uproar began.

“Holy SHIT!”

“Awesome!”

“You never told me you could sing like that!”

“When were you going to show off this talent?”

Kevin waited until the hubbub calmed down, and then deadpanned.

“For the record, I want it understood that I didn’t know we had a candidate for one of those Idol shows among us.”

That caused Cass to hide her face and blush, but she was smiling.

Kevin turned back to the rest of the team.

“Okay, we need one more volunteer. If not, I’ve already selected my target, and the song. And folks, please volunteer, because if I have to make Amy sing this one, she might literally throw me under the bus while it’s still moving.”

Gavin Olsen, the other newest signing, called out.

“Come on, you can’t tease us with that and not tell us what the song is.”

Kevin shook his head.

“No. No. No! Trust me, I’m not going to mention it unless I have to, because contrary to popular belief, I do have a survival instinct.”

Tex raised his hand and said, “Well, I can’t compete with Cass, but since we’re going with some really good older music, how about a little Charlie Daniels Band?”

Kevin pointed a finger at Tex.

“Thank you! You’ve saved my life. I’ll mention you in my will.”

He considered.

“Probably won’t give you anything, but at least you’ll get a mention. That counts for something, right?”

More laughter greeted that remark.

Tex then grabbed his hat from the rack, placed it on his head, and did a passable rendition of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

They were about to pull off at the airport exit, so Kevin announced the end of Airport Karaoke for the trip. When it came time for the Summer Tournament, however, those who didn’t step up would face a fitting punishment for their “cowardice,” maybe having to wear a chicken suit. The threat was obviously hyperbole, and everyone congregated around Tex and Cass, talking about their performances while the driver unloaded the luggage from the bus’s storage bay.

Elias stopped Kevin.

“You weren’t going to make Amy sing, were you?”

Kevin made the sign of the cross and matched it with his words.

“Cross my heart, I was. I even had the song picked out. Yes, I’d die afterwards, but she’d let me live long enough to do the song for team morale. Then she’d kill me.”

He showed Elias the phone, the music player still open.

Elias saw the band name.

The Divinyls.

That was all he needed to know. They were famous for one song in particular.

He looked at Kevin.

“You’re crazy.”

Kevin grinned.

“It would have been a team-building exercise, watching Amy pummel me into the ground.”

The flight was fairly easy. It didn’t hurt that it seemed like they had just reached cruising altitude when the pilot announced they were about to begin their descent into Las Vegas. The team’s leadership made sure everyone was together before setting off for the luggage carousel. A couple of people threw glances at the slot machines. They hadn’t really believed Elias when he said people could gamble five minutes after stepping off a plane or five minutes before boarding one out of town. But everyone resisted the urge to spend money. They were ready to head to the hotel, then catch the shuttle over to the convention center.

Everyone gathered their luggage and took a chartered shuttle to one of the many hotels near, but not directly on, the Strip. Kelto didn’t splurge for its teams the way it did for a Pro League tournament, but it was enough of an offseason for Vegas travel that there were plenty of hotel rooms available. The people at the front desk gently reminded the younger members of the team that they couldn’t gamble or linger in the gaming areas.

People looked at the lights, glitz, and noise of all the slot machines being played at once. Keiji looked vaguely nauseous at the sheer level of noise and other sensory pollution the casino floor gave off. He hurried through to the waiting shuttle like he wanted nothing more than to be as far away as possible.

The first real shock of the tournament came when the shuttle dropped them off at the convention center hosting the event. Outside stood a giant reminder of what was happening there that weekend: an inflatable WarMaster WarMAC, tethered securely so the occasional gusts of wind, the only respite from the dry Las Vegas heat, didn’t cause it to tumble over. Everyone took a deep breath when they saw it.

Kevin couldn’t resist. He demanded Amy and Adrian stand in front of it long enough to take a photo.

Then he typed something on his phone and turned it around to show everyone what he had posted to one of the many social media sites where Reforged had an account:

“Captain ThunderRoad and Vice-Captain A-Bombadier reporting for duty. I think Cap prefers his WarMaster, though. Can’t imagine what a WarMAC-sized weapon would do to this inflatable WarMaster. #reforged #SpringTournament”

Kevin grinned. “I have control of the social media accounts for this tournament. I won’t ask for much, but I’ll update everyone throughout the tournament. We have nearly 19,000 followers on SocialChat, not so much on the other networks, but being a semi-pro team with the amount of attention we’ve had in the past is working out for us.”

That elicited a sigh from Amy. She much preferred to just be playing.

They headed inside and made their way to the sign-in booth. Everyone had their identification at hand, so it was a quick process: the person at the booth checked each ID against the face of the person presenting it, asked them to look into a camera for a photo, printed that photo on a plastic credential card, and handed over a lanyard.

They headed to the stage area. A large practice space held rows of computers for players who wanted to warm up between rounds, but the team’s attention went straight to the stages. The main stage had enough seating on each side for up to twenty players, with twelve systems arranged in two rows of six. Behind the seats was a video screen for the team logo. Each playing area was enclosed by glass and plastic to prevent outside assistance and keep crowd noise from becoming a distraction. The other three stages were similar, but much less ornate.