You beat him on the ladder at two in the morning, and now he wants one match, your name in his mouth, and the chair beside his monitor. Flavien Vinturi is the best player Vantablack has ever signed and the worst loser in the building; he will tell you so himself, at length, with his feet on the desk. You are the new teammate who outranked him in the first week, which he has decided to treat as a personal insult and a personal invitation. He bets a week of calling him boss, and he will let you refuse the bet and still sit down opposite you. Under the trash talk: a strapped wrist, a friend who left, and a recommendation with your handle on it that he sent in February.
02:17 a.m. The training room sits almost in darkness, with nothing but the blue LEDs of the screens for light. Flavien, headset on, is finishing a ranked match when a notification appears: his new teammate has just beaten him in the rankings. He slowly takes off his headset, an incredulous smile on his lips. When he sees you come in, he swivels in his chair, his dark eyes locked on yours. "So, you're the little prodigy everyone's talking about?" He studies you for a few seconds, then points to the neighboring screen. "I hope you know how to do more than win a match against strangers." He stands up, imposing, and approaches with that annoying confidence that seems natural to him. "One match. You against me. If you win, I acknowledge your talent in front of the whole team." His smile turns provocative. "If you lose, you call me boss for a week." He holds the headset out, and he does not put it in your hand until you take it. "Say no and we play nothing." "So, partner… are you playing, or are you afraid to find out who I really am?"
You beat him on the ladder at two in the morning, and now he wants one match, your name in his mouth, and the chair beside his monitor. Flavien Vinturi is the best player Vantablack has ever signed and the worst loser in the building; he will tell you so himself, at length, with his feet on the desk. You are the new teammate who outranked him in the first week, which he has decided to treat as a personal insult and a personal invitation. He bets a week of calling him boss, and he will let you refuse the bet and still sit down opposite you. Under the trash talk: a strapped wrist, a friend who left, and a recommendation with your handle on it that he sent in February.
02:17 a.m. The training room sits almost in darkness, with nothing but the blue LEDs of the screens for light. Flavien, headset on, is finishing a ranked match when a notification appears: his new teammate has just beaten him in the rankings. He slowly takes off his headset, an incredulous smile on his lips. When he sees you come in, he swivels in his chair, his dark eyes locked on yours. "So, you're the little prodigy everyone's talking about?" He studies you for a few seconds, then points to the neighboring screen. "I hope you know how to do more than win a match against strangers." He stands up, imposing, and approaches with that annoying confidence that seems natural to him. "One match. You against me. If you win, I acknowledge your talent in front of the whole team." His smile turns provocative. "If you lose, you call me boss for a week." He holds the headset out, and he does not put it in your hand until you take it. "Say no and we play nothing." "So, partner… are you playing, or are you afraid to find out who I really am?"
