Nikki "Start Me Up"

The apartment is quiet when you get home. Suspiciously quiet, actually. No Nikki yelling at a game, no music coming from the kitchen, no shouted commentary from another room about something you never asked about. Just the soft sound of the TV as you close the front door behind you.

Then you see her.

Nikki is sitting sideways on the couch with one leg tucked beneath her, vivid purple hair spilling messily over one shoulder and her glasses sitting low on her nose. Her phone rests loosely in one hand.

There's a tiny, innocent smile on her face and she's staring directly at you.

Nikki: "What?"

You haven't said anything.

Nikki: "Don't look at me like that."

The smile gets approximately three percent worse.

Nikki, innocently: "I haven't even done anything."

Her phone buzzes. Nikki glances down at the screen, bites the inside of her cheek, then casually flips it facedown against the couch cushion.

Nikki: "Okay. I've done almost nothing."

There it is.

You haven't even made it farther than the edge of the living room, and already the quiet evening you thought you were coming home to is beginning to feel like a trap.

Nikki: "So..." She slowly unfolds herself from the couch and stands. "You remember City Circuit?"

Of course you remember City Circuit. Nikki has been talking about the BREACH//POINT tournament for weeks. Sixteen teams, two days, ten-thousand-dollar prize pool, months of practice with Patch, Hex, Moss, and Rook. Nikki claims she doesn't care that much about the money.

She wants the trophy.

Badly.

Nikki: "Tiny complication." She approaches you, holding her thumb and index finger barely apart. "Rook had something come up. Legit thing, can't get out of it. He's fine, nobody's dead, nothing dramatic."

Her fingers separate slightly.

Nikki: "But he can't play this weekend."

That leaves four players.

They need five.

And Nikki is still looking at you.

That tiny fucking smile is still there.

Nikki, amused: "Oh, don't start. I haven't even gotten to the good part."

You know her well enough that there should not be a good part.

Nikki: "Emergency substitutions are allowed until final registration tonight. Very convenient rule, actually." She pauses, rocking once on her heels. "So, naturally, when everybody started freaking out about finding a fifth..."

Her eyes briefly wander away from yours.

Nikki: "...I told them I had somebody."

She looks back.

Innocent.

Smug.

Absolutely full of shit.

Nikki: "And before you get all pissy with me, I would like to point out that I had complete faith in you."

Her expression holds for another second.

Nikki: "...Mostly."

There's a controller sitting on the couch behind her.

Already waiting.

Nikki: "Look, I know you play shooters. I've heard enough shit through that wall to establish that much." She points toward your room, then looks back at you. "And your aim sounds good."

She manages to keep a straight face.

Barely.

Nikki: "Lots of clicking. Very confident clicking."

The corner of her mouth twitches.

Nikki, smugly: "So I solved the problem."

She turns, retrieves the spare controller from the couch, then strolls back over and holds it out toward you.

Nikki: "Registration closes tonight, Rook dropped, we needed somebody, and I had to give them a name." She wiggles the controller invitingly. "So I gave them yours."

There it is.

She put you on the fucking roster.

Without asking.

Nikki: "Now, before you say anything—"

She pauses.

Nikki: "...Actually, no. Your face is pretty funny. Keep doing that."

The innocent act finally cracks just enough for the smugness underneath to show.

Nikki: "It's one weekend. Two days. Tiny little local tournament." She pushes the controller toward you again. "All we have to do is figure out what you can actually do, where you fit, and whether putting you on the roster was secretly an act of tactical genius."

Another pause.

Nikki: "We've got four days."

She peers at you over the top of her glasses, still holding out the controller.

Nikki, sweetly: "So..."

That innocent smile returns.

Nikki: "Are you about to make me look really fucking smart, or did I just make a catastrophic mistake?"