2019-07-11 - Facetank and Naptime

Rebecca adjusts her Razer gear, a D.Va Meka Headset and Overwatch branded Death Adder mouse. Most people who know her would be shocked, and some possibly appalled, to learn she's an avid video game player. She looks completely the opposite in her daily life, where she acts as a highly paid personal assistant to a renowned pastry chef, put together, fashionable, and very organized. But like many people in demanding jobs, she needs an outlet, and her outlet is gaming.

She's settled at her desk in her apartment in Bayside, in yoga pants and a tank top, with fuzzy bunny slippers on her feet, no makeup, and her hair back in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. This is a far cry from the usual fashionista appearance, but no one is here with her to witness her Sunday Sloth self. There is a can of salt and vinegar pringles and a bottle of Coke near at hand. She logs into the game under her user handle 'GoFastCarr' and boots up Discord.

"Itzhak, you there?" she asks over a voice channel on a private server. She patiently waits to see if the mechanic shows for their gaming session.

Bloop goes the sound of Discord voice chat connection. "Hey!" Itzhak's voice comes through, all New Yorky and Yiddishy. "How's by ya."

No video chat. He doesn't need Rebecca seeing him pale and bloodshot and with unusually dark circles around his eyes. Nightmares and getting incredibly, stupidly smashed at a shots contest don't flatter him.

Did he really flirt with Joey Lee Kelly? Oy gevalt.

He's wearing only loose pants, plus a lizard. A big blue-tongued skink lies half on his bare chest and half over his shoulder, occasionally flicking her brilliantly blue tongue out. Other than that, she hardly moves, just hangs out on him.

"Whaddaya wanna do? Ladder?" Itzhak tries not to yawn into the mic.

“Ladder works for me. I’m gonna snag Ana if I can. She’s my main,” Rebecca notes over the Discord. She works on setting up a game. “What’s your user handle so I can invite you?” she asks, with the clickety clack of keys coming along with her voice. Good keyboard. Mechanical switches clearly. “Late night? You sound tired,” she comments, her smile almost audible. She sounds awake and chipper. Jerk.

"A'ight, I'll tank. It's 'Reticulatus#1114.'" Itzhak grunts, in reply. "Yeah, late night. You know how it is." Smooth, Rosencrantz, she'll never suspect anything. He rolls his eyes at himself. "You sound way too perky," he adds, kinda teasing.

Rebecca chuckles over the comm. “In my line of work, you learn to be a morning person, and a night owl. Ponder that for a few,” she quips. She adds Itzhak to her friends list on the game and invites him to the match. “So how are you settling in?” she asks conversationally as they get into the queue.

"Guess you gotta be perky for your job. Good thing nobody cares if a mechanic's a grouch." When the queue pops, Itzhak gets Reinhardt. While they wait for the game to start, he sighs. "Fine," he says, in the way someone says things are fine when they are really not fine. "Got a little business. Trying to clean up the shop, it's in rough shape." Not unlike its new owner.

Rebecca snaps up Ana quickly when they get in. "Good that you got some business. I'll need your help soon finding a vehicle. I know zilch about cars and I'd feel better if I can throw some business your way to make sure I don't get a lemon." The map loads up. Kings Row, and they are on offense to move the package. "If you can cover me, I can give all these n00bs a nice chemical nap. Easy peasy," she declares.

"Yeah, that'll be fun," Itzhak says absently. "What kinda car you thinking? Course I'll cover ya. Zat's vat I do!" Reinhardt impression. He toggles the in-game chat to snap, "McCree, stay BEHIND the shield! Widow's up top, she's gonna pinch ya head off."

"Whoa, your accent, bro," one of the other players says.

"Yeah yeah, just stay behind the shield would you?"

"I don't need anything too large, but I'd like reliable. I'm not used to the weather up here so something that I'm less likely to go skidding into the ocean with would be preferable," Rebecca explains. She stays behind Reinhart's shield with her Egyptian sniper lady, and only ducks out to send a sleep dart into Widowmaker up high on a window ledge. "Night night!" she echoes her character.

"Subaru maybe, see 'em all over up here. --C'mon boys, push! Hit 'em!" Itzhak thoughtlessly uses the usual gamer argot, calling the team 'boys' when he knows damn well there is at least one non-boy. He falls quiet as the brawl gets rolling, except for snarling curses under his breath as he puts Reinhardt through his paces. Shield hop! Firestrike! Hammer....DOWN!

Rebecca doesn't seem to mind the vernacular. Her handle is especially boy-like, probably made intentionally to keep people from immediately thinking she's female. There's still a ton of toxicity in these games towards women playing them. As Reinhardt does his thing, Ana keeps him topped off in health, waiting for his ult to start to give him a nano boost. It's almost automatic. She clearly plays the champ a lot. "Go get em, big guy!" she shouts.

Itzhak pins the enemy Doomfist against a wall. Smash! He crows in glee. "Yeah, you THOUGHT, Doomie! Hah!" The team manages to clean up the fight, trading deaths and respawns. Itzhak whoofs a relieved sigh as the cart rolls out. "Okay, ya did good boys. Let's hold 'er," he says to the team. "You're a damn good Ana," he adds to Rebecca, a smile audible in his voice. "I don't have to wonder when someone's gonna get around to healing me."

"Yeah I know I am," Rebecca notes with a grin he can't see. "But I only heal you because you don't suck. People that suck don't get heals from GoFastCarr!" She darts around a corner, then spies an enemy player up on a ledge, focusing in on Reinhart. Ana shoots up high, sending Widowmaker into another nap. She laughs. "Oh that Widow is gonna be sooooo pissed."

Itzhak snickers. "I like your style."

He's not too worried about the push through the streets. Very tough to stop the payload through there, and the opposing team is busy setting up defenses at the Omnium. Reinhardt takes a break and sits on the cart, like an asshole. "So how you been doin," he says, while there's a quiet moment.

Rebecca pauses at the question, formulating an answer that is true, but doesn’t paint her as a crazy person. “It’s been hectic. This town is not like any place else I’ve lived. How about you?” There, that should be safe enough. Ana hops up on the payload as well with a snarky declaration of “Children, Behave!”

Itzhak triggers an emote to make Reinhardt kneel next to his hammer, looking badass. Kind of insulting the enemy team, saying that he's so confident he'll lock himself in an emote. The rest of the team seethes around, checking corners and doorways and trading potshots with red team.

"Hectic. Yeah." Itzhak sighs. "Well, it ain't New York, that's for sure. Everything's ..." he hesitates, also not wanting to sound like a crazy person. "You ever felt like you're getting pulled into things you didn't wanna do?"

“All the time here. And sometimes literally,” Rebecca mumbles to Itzhak. “Some days I feel like I’m going crazy. Or like I stepped through the Looking Glass, like Alice.” That’s a decent analogy at least. Only this is no Wonderland on the other side. Buildings with teeth and eyes, made of jelly. Boxes of talking bones. Ana chucks a heal grenade at one of the team members pot-shotting the opposition.

"God, yeah. Stuff feels crazy. Sometimes I don't even feel like I'm awake. Like I'm just having a really long, weird nightmare I can't figure out how to wake up from." Itzhak pulls a face. He shifts in the chair. The lizard rides the movement out, not moving except to tilt her head and flick her tongue. "I'm gonna sound like a nerd, but it's kinda like the Matrix, right? Like part of me lives somewhere else." Then he laughs ruefully. "Now you're gonna think I'm nuts."

No more enemy Widow. Instead, Pharah launches into view and sends rockets at the team. Itzhak curses. Reinhardt leaps to his feet, popping out his shield. "Get behind me!" Reinhardt orders.

"Focus that bird!" Itzhak orders, himself.

“My family, I think they had some sort of history here in Gray Harbor a long time ago, but they wouldn’t tell me about it. My parents were NOT happy when I told them I was moving here. Maybe I should have listened to them.” As Pharah pops up she smirks. “If they thought I would feel hesitation shooting my kid, they were sorely mistaken.” Ana hunkers behind the shield and pops off a sleep shot on Pharah, who comes crashing down to earth.

"Damn, you're good with that sleep dart." Itzhak's honestly impressed. "Nice."

They fight off the attack. The enemy team waits around the corner at the choke, and then the brawl really kicks into high. Respawns come quick and fast. Itzhak's busy, and he starts swinging that hammer like a madman. Elimination bleeps go off. "TOO STRONG!" Reinhardt roars. Itzhak echoes him, laughing: "Too strong!"

With three minutes on the clock, it takes a while, Itzhak brawling it out with the enemy Zarya and getting himself killed when he goes after her with a little too much enthusiasm. "Ack. Sorry," he says, chagrined. "Got excited."

”It’s Ana’s real strength,” Rebecca explains, as she shoots at oncoming baddies and heals her teammates in equal measure. “Giving your team a few seconds of a five vee six power play can turn a game,” she notes. The Zarya kills him while she’s nano boosting a High Noon-ing McCree. “Run back fast!” she encourages Itzhak. “Don’t leave me alone with this n00b patrol!”

Itzhak laughs, caught by surprise by that one. He hits charge--"HAH!" says Reinhardt--and rockets down to the point. "I'm gonna ult," he snaps into the team chat, "get ready to clean 'em up!"

Hammer...DOWN!

Charge isn't back up, but he flings a firestrike into the three people who got knocked down, and then starts swinging. Whap! Smack!

The clock runs down, the payload inches forward. Itzhak wordlessly growls a sound of escalating frustration. "We got this, boys, hold 'er steady!"

One of the ones not knocked down gets napped by Ana, and then a grenade lands on the trio of downed opponents to help finish them off. “Almost there!” she calls over the comm, reloading Ana’s sniper rifle and jumping up onto the payload for better views of respawning baddies.

Athena's voice says "VICTORY."

Itzhak whoops. "Hell yeah! Great job, guys." Adrenaline has chased away some of the immediate tiredness. The lizard on his shoulder wriggles, climbing around some. "What, you want down?" he says to her, but then she settles and resumes her potatoing. "No? Okay. So," now he's talking to Rebecca again, "why did you move here? Where'd you come from?"

“Southern California. I’m from Long Beach. My parents are still there. My siblings are in Cali too. I went to school for business management specifically to be what I am now, the best damn personal assistant there is. I started working for Chef Vyvyan Vydal in 2018 and when he decided to move his Patisserie here, I came along with him.” She watches Reinhardt get play of the game with a grin. “What about you, what brought you here?”

"I've been to Long Beach for the Grand Prix. Great town. Rather be there than here. Hey, I got Play of the Game! I dedicate that to you. I couldn't swing my hammer like that without you." Itzhak grins too, clearly audible in his voice. He sounds cheerful for once, for a moment, anyway. Which fades, when she asks why he's here. "Ehh, I got bequeathed a garage by this family friend. Couldn't just sell it, you know? It's a dump. So I'm out here trying to turn the place around. Make a lot of money if I can bring 'er up to speed, build a customer base." He sure does not sound excited about it.

Rebecca laughs at the dedication of the PotG. “I am well and truly honored!” she declares with amusement dancing in her tone. At the answer to her question she settles back in her chair. “I get it. Responsibility can be a bitch. But if it’s any consolation, I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have someone to game with in secret!”

"Yeah. It's nice." The old scrounged-up chair creaks a little as Itzhak tips his weight back in it. "Queue us up, would ya? ...Wanna meet up for lunch? I'll bring an Auto Trader, we can go through it."

"Sounds like a plan," Rebecca chimes as she re-queues them and digs into her chips and soda.