Ares

Chapter V

We are not a one-player team, as a lot of analyst have been saying before and after our matches. My performance alone is not exactly the reason of our loss streak, but this seems to be a wrong argument after every day of training.

Although we are not an invincible team when I am playing my best, this week’s practice matches have been almost flawless for me and we have only lost two of them.

It almost feels as if we could play a competitive game against the team that has currently the best statistics right now and win it. However, deep inside I know that my performance could get worse in the moment we start playing an important match. Because that is what has happened; I have only played poorly in tournaments.

Once our training has finished, Marcus asks me if I would like to play some more with him. I decline to the offer. It is always fun to play non-serious matches, but I have to test several times the keyboard I borrowed from him and my old one. Otherwise, I will continue being paranoid with my set up.

After deciding to play any game but Besiege Of Combat, I open Dead by daylight. This is a game where a player takes on the role of a ruthless killer and other four players are the survivors who try to escape death by repairing generators.

I consider that the mechanics of the game will be helpful to determine if there is an issue with the keyboard I used to play with, or if there is something that I need to fix in Siege specifically.

The third game ends for me when I get caught up by the killer after helping one of my teammates to escape. I have not had any problems with my old keyboard so far. There is no delay when my fingers press the keys either to move or to hit great skill checks to repair generators successfully.

A couple of hours have passed, and I have already given up on finding flaws with my equipment. Thus, I decide to turn off my computer and get something to eat. I am alone in the scrim room by now, which gives me the chance to look at my computer’s black screen. My features do show that there is something bothering me. However, I cannot tell if my mental state is just due to our latest matches or if there is something more that I have not put thought into.

My hunger makes me disregard it, though, as I get up from the chair and open the door to walk into the hallway. I can tell by the turned-on lights that there is someone down the staircase.

Walking towards the living room, I discover Marcus eating something by the kitchen counter.

“Midnight snack?” he asks after swallowing a mouthful of what seems to be pasta.

I approach him with a curious look. He does not have any culinary skill, so I believe that whatever is in the bowl between his hands is one of Atem’s creations.

“Is it good?” I ask, taking a fork from a drawer before sitting next to him and inspect the meal quickly as he hands it over.

My companion shrugs, thinking about his response for a couple of seconds. “It’s edible”, he concludes with a chuckle. “It is better than anything I have ever cooked, so I shouldn’t be complaining.”

I smile back at him before taking the first bite of this weird red-colored spaghetti. It tastes good, but it seems to be missing something. “Yes, you don’t have the right to complain about this”, I say jokingly, pushing slightly the bowl over the surface in a way that it is comfortable for the both of us to eat from it.

It does not take long for him to try and defend himself “Come on, I know the basics. Actually, I think the problem is that it has too much tomato”, Marcus points out with a grin of satisfaction on his face.

I narrow my eyes while eating a little more. I can see why he has said that. Nonetheless, I am not sure if he came to that conclusion by himself of if someone else helped him to figure that out.

“Atem told you that, didn’t he?” I finally determine.

The look on his face lets me know that I was correct before he even opens his mouth to answer. “I was with him while he was finishing it. He also said that he made a lot, so we could eat as much as we wanted.”

A short laugh escapes my lips. “I don’t know how or why his bad experiments always involve big portions of food.”

He nods in agreement. “At least we don’t have to struggle finding something to eat at 2 a.m.”

“Shouldn’t you be streaming?” I ask while tangling the pasta around my fork playfully. I am used to stay awake until very late at night doing random things. Marcus, on the other hand, goes live on Watcher every day for hours until he is too tired to continue playing.

“I ended it early. I just was not feeling well playing. What about you? You haven’t streamed in a while.”

Honestly, having an audience is not one of my main worries at this moment. I am not used to stream often because I simply enjoy playing itself, without having to interact with viewers. However, I have been avoiding Watcher lately.

“I know. I am not feeling well either”, I reply with the same tone he used when expressing his sentiment. “You should probably know that already.”

He acquiesces in my statement. “What happened with the keyboard, by the way?”

I purse my lips together, thinking if I should tell him my conclusions or if I should try different games. Finally, I opt for the latter.

“I got busy and could only play a couple of games. I will continue testing before our match tomorrow.” Marcus takes another mouthful of food while signaling his approval with a nod. I take the opportunity to talk about one of the things that has been bothering the most recently. “Do you think that you guys should find a replacement?”

His eyes look at me with confusion and anger mixed in his blue pupils. “What?” Is all he seems to think after registering my words.

Maybe I went too far, but, knowing the criticism in the competitive scene, we both know that it is not that crazy if teams switch players in the middle of a season. It seems, nonetheless, that I have gone too far with my overthinking.

“We may continue losing if we don’t change something and…”

“Kathlyn”, Marcus interrupts my ranting while placing his hand on my shoulders, forgetting completely about the decent meal before us. “We all go through tough times. I don’t think any of the guys are even considering that idea.”

The tone of his voice is serious, and his appearance shows concern. I know mentality is a huge part of playing professionally any sport. I would be lying if I said that stress has nothing to do with my recently bad performances.

“Alright.” I rub my face softly, leaning to the comforting contact of my friend’s left hand. “I am starting to get paranoid.”

He shakes his head slightly with a small smile on his face. “You can and you will get through this. I know it.”