Team Reforged; Power and Overpower
Copyright© 2026 by FozzieBare
Chapter 12: Something Just Like This
The recovery room had chairs. This should not have been noteworthy. Adrian nevertheless stood in the doorway for several seconds, staring at them. Not folding chairs. Not plastic chairs. Not something stolen from a hotel conference room thirty minutes before the teams arrived. Actual chairs.
Large ones. Padded ones. Several even reclined. There were couches, tables, food, water, and sports drinks. A coffee machine appeared to produce coffee rather than an industrial solvent that happened to contain caffeine. One corner had been partitioned into two small quiet areas. Reuben walked past Adrian, stopped, and backed up.
“What’s wrong?”
Adrian pointed. Reuben followed the gesture. His eyes widened.
“Holy shit.”
“I know.”
“Are those recliners?”
“I think so.”
Reuben approached cautiously, as if the chair might bite. He sat, leaned back, and watched the footrest come up.
“Oh.”
Amy walked in behind them.
“What?”
Reuben closed his eyes.
“I live here now.”
“You have a match.”
“No.”
“You definitely have a match.”
“Tell them I died.”
Adrian finally entered.
“Remember Vegas?”
Several people groaned. Cass dropped onto one of the couches.
“I had almost successfully forgotten.”
In Vegas, recovery between major matches had consisted largely of finding a place where your legs would stop hurting and trying not to get stepped on by somebody from another team. This was different. Very different. Adrian looked around.
“Huh.”
Amy glanced over.
“What?”
“Kelto learned something.”
Reuben opened one eye.
“If we complain more, what do you think we get next year?”
“Massage chairs,” Amy said.
Adrian nodded thoughtfully.
“Don’t joke. I’m willing to weaponize player feedback now.”
Martin entered. He surveyed the room.
“Efficient.”
Adrian looked at him.
“That’s your review?”
“There are sufficient seating locations. Food is easily accessible. Noise levels are controlled.”
Martin considered.
“Efficient.”
“Five stars from Martin.”
“I did not say five.”
“Four?”
“I do not use that system.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Martin sat and immediately opened his laptop. Amy stared at him.
“You know you’re allowed to relax, right?”
“I am relaxing.”
“You’re working.”
“I am sitting while working.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It is more relaxing than standing.”
Amy gave up. The other semifinal had already begun, Interstellar Warriors against JojoBeasts, and someone had put the official feed on the large television at the front of the room. At first, everyone watched. Not intensely, and not the way Adrian normally watched, but enough to react to a kill, a push, or a failed rotation.
One of the Interstellar Warriors made a particularly good recovery, drawing comments from several Reforged players. Adrian didn’t react. He was eating, which was sufficiently unusual that Elias noticed.
“You feeling okay?”
Adrian looked down at the sandwich in his hand. “Yes.”
“You’re eating.”
“Yes.”
“And there’s a WarMAC match on.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not taking notes.”
Adrian stared at him. “Would you like me to stop eating?”
“No. I’m just documenting the miracle.”
Someone farther down the room asked:
“Who’s winning?”
Adrian didn’t look at the television. “Don’t care.”
That got attention. Cass turned.
“You don’t care who we’re playing?”
“We have to beat them.”
“But wouldn’t it help to know which one?”
“When they’re done, sure.”
Adrian took another bite. “We don’t have enough information right now to do anything useful with it.”
He gestured toward the screen. “Concentrate on what we can do. Not what they can do.”
Elias looked almost impressed. “You’re really not scouting.”
“I’ve scouted both of them.”
“During this match.”
“No.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Adrian?”
Adrian swallowed. “I have learned something.”
Reuben sat upright in the recliner. “Everyone be quiet. This might be historic.”
Adrian threw a napkin at him. “I learned that there is a point where watching more video stops helping.”
Martin looked up. “Correct.”
Everyone turned toward him. Adrian frowned. “You could’ve told me that months ago.”
“I assumed you knew.”
“Martin.”
“You are experienced.”
“Martin.”
“Apparently I overestimated you.”
Amy started laughing. Adrian pointed at Martin. “I liked you better when you were socially helpless.”
“I remain socially limited.”
“Not limited enough.”
The room settled again. The match continued. JojoBeasts took an advantage; Interstellar Warriors answered. Someone cursed at the screen. Someone else got food. Reuben reclined again and announced that he would be available for emergency consultations, but nothing requiring verticality.
Adrian eventually looked toward the corner. Amy was sitting alone, though not because anyone had excluded her. She’d found a chair a little apart from everyone else. She wasn’t watching the semifinal, checking her phone, or eating. She was just sitting there, thinking.
Adrian watched for a few seconds. Amy sometimes went quiet, and that wasn’t unusual. This was different. She seemed very far away. He got up and walked over.
“Hey, Ames.”
Amy blinked and looked at him. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
She looked toward the room again. “Just thinking.”
Adrian sat in the chair beside her. “About?”
A pause. “About why I stayed.”
Adrian glanced toward the tournament feed. “For this?”
“Yeah.”
Amy smiled slightly. “And...”
She stopped. Adrian waited. He’d learned that too. Sometimes the best thing you could say was nothing. Amy looked around the recovery room. Reuben had apparently decided one recliner was superior to another and was now attempting to negotiate a trade. Cass was arguing with Elias.
“You set a forest on fire.”
“They entered the forest voluntarily.”
“You continued setting it on fire.”
“They continued being in it.”
“That is not a defense.”
“It is causally relevant.”
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