paradisalogs | [Closed] Video games, go!

And funny that the man who was a car thought he knew his way around his digits well enough to beat the high-scoring champion. Prepare to die, Kittikins.

"You ready?"

Wait, what? She'd never mentioned that part! He set his face in a look of grim determination, all business.

"As ever."

She pushed start, entering them into the game. And promptly ran to his spawn spot and shot him in the head.

"Hahaha... right. So that's 'not at all' then, huh?"

He sat back for a moment, looking stunned. "Wait a moment. Games have changed since I last played. Just give me a moment to get used to everything."

Like how to hold the controller. And how to control the controller. Especially using his non-dominant hand. He flexed his injured fingers a few times, loosening them up.

"All right. Let's try that again."

And the game was on.

She gave him a few moments to orient himself, going around and picking up prime weapons as she did. "Ready when you are, sparkplugs."

"That's 'carface' to you." Dammit, she was good. He was trying to keep an eye on her movements while he was still fumbling with the controls. He finally got the hang of it, enough to get himself armed, even if his arsenal wasn't nearly so extensive as hers. It would do until he could find more.

If he survived that long.

She laughed at that. He was warming up to her. She nudged her foot with his. "It's on, carface."

With a dramatically evil laugh, she directed her toon to go hunt down his, whistling as she went.

'Sparkplugs' was just a bit too demeaning. Reducing him to his parts! 'Carface' almost made him sound like a gangster. A gangster with a lot of power and armor behind him. He just needed to hold onto that thought.

He ducked his avatar down an alleyway, lying in wait.

"Just wait until you're... what is it you were wanting? Foot rubs? Just wait until you're doing that to me." See who'd be laughing then!

"Not happening, wheels. You're going to be worshiping me for two whole weeks. I think I might even have you run my bubble baths."

She moved cautiously, aware of the turns and twists his char could take advantage of. This was nice, though. Almost like being home. Except, you know, not.

"So long as I don't have to watch you take them." Oh, that was smooth. Why didn't he just admit defeat while he was at it? "It's a nice dream for you to have."

He was amazed at the graphics. So far beyond anything he'd been accustomed to. Like an entirely different world. Another dimension, one might say. He might have found a new hobby.

Headshot. Bye bye, Kittikins.

"As if. I don't need you perving over me in my enjoyment time." She snorted, wondering if a car turned human could perv.

SONOFA...! Dammit! He gritted his teeth, blowing the air out of his cheeks. That was. That was not FAIR! He hadn't even seen her character! How was this even happening?

"I expect you'll have the room all to yourself." Maybe. But even if he could, he wasn't about to let her know that!

"I'd better have the bathroom all to myself, otherwise you're doing it wrong." She chuckled at the pissed look on his face, heading back to his spawn spot to get him again.

"I'll be sure to tell that one to Michael, next time I see him."

He hadn't even gotten one kill shot in! He could do this, right? It wasn't like he was killing any real humans.

Could that be the problem? It was too much like looking at real people? Former programming become instinct?

A test, then. Some innocuous computer-generated bystander. Someone he knew wasn't being played by her. He took aim, and.

Couldn't do it. He couldn't even kill an avatar. In disgust aimed squarely at himself, he threw the controller to the floor.

"You win."

"What? You're giving up that easily? I didn't peg you as a quitter, Kittikins."

"I'm not a quitter." He'd never been a quitter. Except for that one time, with the acid pit. But he'd had a pretty good excuse then. "You don't understand." He ran his fingers through his hair, winced and shook his hand, then looked at over at her.

"They look too real."

"Dude. I can promise you, it's not. They're pixels on a screen. Look... watch this."

She had her character jump off the roof, landing with a messy splat and long, drawn out death cries, screen painted red. "See? I'm not dead. Not even dinged. I'm good. And shooting you didn't hurt you, did it? So... just... take off the panties and pull on some big boy undies."

"I know that!" But he watched anyway, wanting - no, needing - to be convinced. He was canting his head back and forth, trying to come up with an answer, finally giving up and picking up the controller again.

"It's on."

And with her character RIGHT THERE, he shot it squarely in the head.

"Oh, you sack of scrap metal. You're gonna pay for that, buddy."

And he did. Over, and over, and over, and over, with her laughing like a bad movie villain the whole time. She even teabagged his corpse a few times, tongue sticking out at him while she did it.

Now that he could enjoy himself, relax and get into the spirit of the game, he had to admit, to himself if not to her, that he deserved that. He'd played dirty pool, and it was no longer about winning so much as trying not to be killed by repeatedly. And failing miserably at it, but even that wasn't so bad. She was good. He was impressed. Maybe even a bit admiring.

... He could have done without the teabagging. That was a bit excessive. Still, he was having more fun than he could remember having in quite some time, so that by the time she'd killed him off once and for all, he was - laughing.

She had a wide smile to match his, arms raised in victory as her last kill logged her as the winner. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week. And that is how you kick someone's ass, Kittikins. I'm a lean, mean, death-machine."

Happy Kenzi was happy, doing a little victory dance where she sat.

"I know you will be. You won't leave the room so long as I'm catering to your every whim. I'll be earning my keep." She had a pretty smile when it was genuine and happy. Disconcerted, he had to look away.

"You're really good at this, Kenzi. I'm officially impressed."

"Two weeks, Kitt. Said by your pretty pouty little lips," she got up on her knees, leaning over to tap his lower one with a wide grin, then jumped up on her feet.

"I don't know what I want you to do first; rub my feet or run me a bath. Maybe bath first, because, eww, feet."

"And you've even been drinking. I'm still not sure quite how you did it, but I'm still impressed." What, two weeks? Not two days? He watched her, shaking his head again. He was doing that a lot with her.

"Bath. Please." He could afford to be good-natured about it for the moment. He might not be in two weeks.

"Mmm, bath. Yes. Hot and with bubbles, please," she sighed as she rolled onto her bed, lying on her back and lifting her leg up straight - then further forward until she could work on the lacing of her boot. Being lean came in great for being flexible.

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