Hunted

Act 22; Distraction

Rich Fledglings were small, impish creatures who reveled in the act of irritating others. They hit once, then run away before the player could even land a strike. With an Evasion level of over thirty as the weakest a Fledgling could have, they were best left alone unless one was in need of a quick drop of cash.

They were hard to capture for trade kill, hard to spot and even harder to kill, but that's what made them so rare. Killing a Rich Fledgling was ten times harder than capturing it, but trading it in alive only gave the player half of what they might have earned had they killed it.

The daily goal set on his profile was to kill ten of them.

Noah annihilated thirty.

It was actually pretty easy once he figured it out. All he had to do was trap them, release them, then do it again. Trapping a Rich Fledgling was ten times easier than killing it in one go, and trapping dealt a blow that lessened a monster's lifespan by a half quarter. It was a long process, but he was diligent. Plus, his bank has never had more zeroes. He liked looking at all those zeroes.

"You're really focused today, for someone who went on a thirty-something-hours marathon." The girl to his left said without looking at him, throwing combo move after combo move at her opponent in their Street Fighter game. Her elbows were going everywhere, to the point where Noah was scared to come near her.

"Lilac, maybe you should learn to control your gaming mannerisms better when we're in a gaming session." Noah suggested absent-mindedly, finally killing his thirty-first Rich Fledgling and raking in more gold.

"Yeah, Li. You're beating me up both in-game and irl." Greg, her opponent who sat beside her, said, his face contorted in concentration but upper body never moving an inch aside for his thumbs.

Lilac was hard-headed. "Haters gonna hate!" She answered curtly, readying for the final move. In her excitement, she jerked her entire upper body to the side.

A click resonated in the quieted room as the games continued to play their bgm through their earpieces.

Greg and Noah held back their laughter as Lilac panicked to reconnect her joystick into the controller. Greg didn't waste a moment in gaining the upper hand, beating Lilac's character to the point where it was impossible for her to recover.

When Lilac finally reconnected her joystick, it was too late. Her character was doing the dizzy-body-wobbling-thing, and Greg shot her a wink before he dealt the final blow.

Lilac was kneeling on the floor, flabbergasted as the announcer's voice echoed her KO through her earpiece.

Greg was dancing The Robot a few meters away.

Noah, grinning, said, "Told you so."

At the center of the wall adjacent to the door were three identical monitors displaying, respectively from left to right, a Tekken Street Fighter game, Noah's Over The Horizon MMORPG, and a blank monitor yet to be opened. The walls were a pristine white with one wardrobe closet and a desk that overlooked a window. Pillows were scattered on the blue floor near the monitors, ranging from neon colors, game characters' body pillows, to recycled throw pillows. The ceiling, a dark blue that almost looked violet, had nightlights taped on them, of stars and moons and suns that Greg personally placed after losing a bet.

Ever since Noah's presidency, Greg's room had been the Gaming Club's place of operations.

Cardor walked into a dancing Greg, a sulking Lilac, and a quiet Noah. He found the scene strange because a) Greg usually danced the Macarena, not the Robot, b) Lilac never sulked by the desk. That was his spot to brood. She usually sulked in the corner of the wall that held no furnishings. And c) Noah was the loudest member despite the prestige of being president, so he should be dancing along with Greg, possibly even doing the Tango together.