Chapter Text
This was never meant to happen. Courtney swore up and down on that fact. The first time was a genuine coincidence. When she ended up in the streamer Mecha Man’s Arc Raiders game lobby for the first time, she somehow managed to shoot him down with clean, cold brutality.
He was mere steps away from extracting out of the match in the hatch—and she had slain him with the cool efficiency of an ambush predator. Her aim was precise, tracking his movement perfectly as it found its mark into the centermass of his chest and head.
She leapt down from the high ground where his avatar was kneeled over, bracing for the inevitable moment where she’d finish this and take everything he’d been made of. His tag was one she recognized from tertiary knowledge. She’s aware of who he is, like most big names in the gaming world.
So it stunned her when she heard him swear loudly over the mic. That deep voice, filled to the brim with frustration and disbelief at his loss. His infuriated cursing causes something to awaken something deep within her psyche. There’s a distant yell that told her that he’s stood up and left his desk to pace.
She saw why when she put him down. It was so much loot. A ludicrous stockpile that would set her up for the rest of the season. His most crucial gear was now sitting in her inventory. She wastes no time to extract from the lobby with her catch. How many people did he have to take out to gather such a treasure pile?
After she made her getaway, she immediately searched for his stream. It didn’t take very long to locate his channel. Fifteen thousand people were watching the moment before it all happened. The delay allowed her to witness the moment again but from his point of view.
It was a clean, swift kill. Impossible for anyone to react to, even the most proficient of players.
“Fuck! Goddammit! Where the fuck did you come from?” He yelled into the mic, and she could hear the faint hint of a possibility that she may have actually scared him. There was a wavering to that heady rumble of his crackling deep voice that indicated some brand of fear amidst the fury and grief.
Was it wrong for her to think maybe his voice is kind of hot? He’s ranting about the ambush to his chat as they relentlessly mocked him for the colossal loss. But she wasn’t listening to a damn word he was saying. He didn’t have a face camera on his stream. But that had not put a cork on her imagination. She was already trying to fabricate what a man who sounds like that could possibly look like.
Every version is stupidly hot.
This was the spark that launched a month of constant appearances on his stream. After her work shifts she makes a routine of logging in. She’d find where he’s at in whatever game he’s playing, which usually is Arc Raiders, and rob him repeatedly. There were moments when he’d get the upper hand on her. He wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t pay attention. That patience he had was something to marvel at.
To be fair she never often watched streamers. The extent of her watching experience was solely from the clips Bruno sent to her of great plays and funny moments. She’s even seen a few from this Mecha Man guy. His voice sounded different then. Or maybe she just wasn’t paying attention until he was keeled over and hollering about her shotgun blasting him to the ribcage. That voice in her ear… She sought it like a bee seeks nectar from a flower.
Tonight she times it just right. With only a little effort she’s in his next match.
It takes time for him to build up his loot, but she’s using the stream to predict where he’ll be next. From there it’s easy enough to take him down in a similar manner as all the times she’s taken him down before. The perfect crime.
The third time it happens he’s finally connected the dots. He’s committed her tag to memory. Or perhaps that infinite well of patience has gone dry.
“InVisi? Which one of you assholes is stream sniping? Who is doing this?” He sounds less annoyed and more amused now. “Come on, fess up. You’ve been doing this shit all month.”
As she stands above his keeled over body, she tabs out. Her hands hover over the keyboard. She debates on whether or not to say something in his chat.
Best case scenario he laughs it off.
Worst case scenario he would ban her from his chat. It’s not like she’s ever thought of talking there anyway.
[InVisi]: @Mecha Man you sound hot af when you’re mad
She hits enter. The power of anonymity makes her feel particularly bold. He’s probably used to this.
There’s a dark chuckle from him that makes her legs feel like jelly when he repeats her message on stream for all to hear. “So this is your fucked up attempt at flirting. Thanks for letting me know who you are. I’m banning you personally. You can send an appeal and I’ll approve it if you promise to knock it off.”
She’s timed out but she’s still able to watch the stream. Rather than queue for another lobby she spends some time watching his games for the first time. It’s the first time in this persistent month that she’s sat down and really witnessed how he plays the game. His gameplay isn’t just good, it’s really good. He has a particular mastery over using the zipline and roll maneuvers, weaving and dodging any adversary that dares to challenge him.
She realizes that it was probably a mix of blind luck and a mastery of the arts of extract camping that allowed her to take him out the first time. The whole month after that she knows with some burning envy that she was able to take him down due to her unfair advantage of knowing his every move.
The worst part out of all of this is that he’s also really fucking funny. He easily banters back and forth with his chat with a dry, quick wit. Even when he’s clapping back, he’s still somehow polite. Suddenly, she’s feeling some regret that she’s not able to join in the fun of the stream. It’s not like she meant to ruin his games—she just wanted to hear him speak to her, to have that warm voice in her ears again.
She doubts he will believe that though. And he really doesn’t have a reason to think any differently. She’s a stranger on the internet at the end of the day. But he left an opportunity for her to apologize.
But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t piss her off. Who the fuck does he think he is? What kind of bullshit high and mighty ass douchebag thinks that he can patronize her like she’s some unruly child? What makes him think that she wants his forgiveness?
Sadness gives way to spite. Her jaw clenches and she gives into the anger and annoyance that’s burning a hole in her chest. She queues, times it all just right and with luck on her side she’s back into his lobby.
Hunting him down is effortless. He’s good at the game but so is she. And this map? She knows it like the back of her hand. This time she’s got some extra special supplies packed and loaded with his name on them.
But he’s on high alert. She makes a mistake and he notices, locks onto it with sharp instincts honed from years of playing games. He fires and she just narrowly escapes into cover behind a wall in this broken down office building they’ve found themselves in. He’s down at the end of the hall, bunkered in the janitor’s closet.
“Come on out, I know it’s you, Visi or whatever the fuck you call yourself,” he says, exasperation palpable in his tone. “Do you have a mic? What the fuck kind of stream sniper doesn’t try to mic up for a whole fucking month? You get muted in this game already or something? You can at least try to do this shit right. Come on, claim your five minutes of fame. I’m waiting. Let’s fucking finish this.”
Is he seriously ragebaiting her? What the fuck does she say? Does she even say anything at all? And why the fuck does he have to say it like that?
Her face is warming up, her ears growing hot beneath the noise cancelling headphones. It’s partially with anger and partially because the sound of his baritone drawl is downright sinfully sultry in her ears. Her mind fabricates the thought of his lips pressed to her ear completely on its own. It sends an electric shiver down her spine. She doesn’t even know what he looks like and she’s squirming in her chair.
She feels her throat start to close up. A misfortune and cruel turn of the situation as her lungs clench painfully.
“Give me,” she pauses with a cough, queuing her push-to-talk key. “A fucking second,” she finishes with a harsh snap. She sucks down a puff of an inhaler.
Then he has the audacity to laugh a mocking laugh at her over voice chat. “Jesus fucking Christ. You move five feet and now you’re out of breath? What are you, a snail?” He taunts.
She throws her inhaler onto her desk with a clattering rattle. “I’ve got asthma, asshole,” she snarls.
“Shit. Asthma. I feel so bad for you right now,” he says, sarcasm dripping from each word like its venom.
“Yeah, whatever, fucker. You moving or what?”
“It’s pretty cozy here, fucker. So no, I don’t think I will. All I have to do is wait for someone to take your dumbass out for me,” he replies nonchalantly. “You should stick to extraction point camping. I think it suits your skillset better.”
“If I’m shit, what does that make you? The facts say I’ve got at least twenty up on you by now and you’ve basically nothing on me, so…”
“I wouldn’t say that I’ve got nothing on you.”
Her heart races. “And what is it that you think you’ve got on me?” She tests. Curiosity is getting the better of her intuition. This is definitely a trap.
“Why don’t you come here for a sec? I won’t shoot,” he answers in a luring, gravelly voice. “C’mere.”
She moves down the hall. Her crosshair is steady at the center of her screen. Her steps echo as she creeps toward the back room he’s holed up in. She pushes the door open and fires blindly into the opposite wall.
It’s a gamble and she’s lost it all.
“Well that’s disappointing.” His voice is behind her, and he fires two quick headshots and she’s downed.
“You said you wouldn’t shoot,” Courtney complains into her mic.
He circles her as she’s helplessly downed. Then he makes his character crouch in front of her, waving the barrel of the pistol in her face as he reloads in front of her. “You shot first.”
“Yeah but you lied.”
“I don’t think self defense is lying. I’ll take my shit back now. Have a nice night.” He winds up the execution animation and then her screen goes black.
A quote she won’t read flashes onto her screen as she lets her forehead hit her desk. With a frustrated sigh she glances to the corner of her second monitor’s screen. It’s late. She doesn’t have time for another match.
His stream is playing her demise all over again. He makes it out with his reclaimed stuff. And then he’s announcing that the stream is ending. Music and an animated title screen pop up. The chat is still talking, rapid fire scrolling on the screen.
She sighs and exits out of the game. She’s about to close out of the stream tab when she notices there’s a message notification.
Cautiously dragging the cursor to the icon, she clicks it open. She stares at the message, dumbfounded.
1:03 am [MechaMan]: GGs. Thanks for bringing my shit back.
1:06 am [InVisi]: wtf is your problem
1:07 am [MechaMan]: I think I should be the one asking that. But I won’t. I unbanned you by the way. Consider it a gesture of good will.
1:07 am [InVisi]: why?
1:10am [MechaMan]: I’ve actually had a good time fighting you this month. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good challenge. You’re fun to fight. So I thought we should do it again.
1:11 am [InVisi]: ??? youre weird
1:13 am [MechaMan]: I’m not the one stream sniping at 1 am on a Wednesday. I sent you a friend request in game. That’ll make it easier to get into my lobbies. Good night.
1:13 am [InVisi]: good night see you tomorrow i guess?
She shamelessly checks to see if he’s telling the truth, relaunching the game. It’s there, waiting to be accepted or denied. She wonders what he’d do if she rejected it. But she’s impulsive when she makes her choice to accept the friend-not-friend invitation from him. Curiosity has its hold on the steering wheel while spite tries to backseat drive.
What she doesn’t anticipate is that he’s still online. The invitation to a party is one that he sends her before she can exit like a dog with its tail between its legs is swift.
When she accepts he cues his mic and starts to speak.
“Faster than I expected,” Mecha Man says cleanly through what must be a pretty expensive microphone. “Can you hear me?”
That voice is close, too close to her. It’s infuriating. The absolute gall of this man. He must think pretty highly of himself. Bold, considering there’s no trace of his face anywhere on the internet. He feels nice and safe behind the screen, where no one can see him for who he really is.
“Hello?” He prompts into the voice chat again.
“You do this to everyone who kills you? Is this your thing?” Courtney accuses, trying to reverse the dynamic between them and shake that unwavering confidence.
He laughs. “No, actually I don’t. You’re pretty determined to reverse this whole light stalking thing back on me, huh? How come you’re not in my Discord server? It’s a great place to communicate with other fans.”
“I am not your fan,” Courtney whips back, venomous words. “And how come you know that I’m not in your server? Are you spying on me?”
“That’s crazy because you’re really acting like a fan since you’ve literally followed my every fucking move for an entire month. And I know because I checked to make sure you’d be banned in Discord as well when I banned you earlier,” he explains, as if she’s an idiot. Which she just might be.
“You already said good night to me. You enjoy being a liar or something?”
“Nice deflection. I’m putting my handle in the chat if you want to add me on Discord.
His confidence irks her to the core of her being. And he probably does this to everyone he meets. His friendliness is making her seethe.
“What if I don’t add you there?”
“I’d be mildly disappointed.”
“Only mildly?”
“Only mildly,” he confirms with an even tone.
“Well shit,” she says, at a loss. “Fine. Have it your way. Mecha Man.” She navigates to Discord and adds him, typing in the username he provided in the chat. “There, you fucking happy?”
“Yes, I am thrilled beyond imagination,” he answers flatly. “Good night, Visi. For real this time.”
“Good night. You better keep your promise. Or I’ll kick your ass.”
“Noted,” is the last thing he says before he exits the game.
She closes the game and waits to see if he will message her on Discord next.
He doesn’t.
What she does see is that he’s accepted it.
She stares at the blank screen of their DMs, uncertainty writhing within her. Was this real? She’s seen how stream snipers get treated by streamers before. They’re typically disliked. Until five minutes ago she thought he hated her guts.
So what was different now?
Maybe he’s just horny. She certainly is. She’s fantasizing about that voice again, wondering what kinds of things he would say to her if she got him hot under the collar…
She drags herself to bed and curls up. Sleep doesn’t take her easily. It’s a struggle to get the salacious thoughts of him from her mind.
Ridiculous.
She can’t believe her lack of filter. And the way she treated him after? She was lashing out to try and put distance between them.
But this guy? He’s closing the gap she’s made effortlessly. Like he’s oblivious to the fact that it’s even there. Like a friendly golden retriever prancing for play with a savage mountain lion who wants to devour him whole.
There isn’t any stopping what’s begun. She’s set up the first domino, and now he’s lining them up with her, one by one. Building something fragile and new.
All she can do is brace for the approaching storm. Rain drops patter against the floor to ceiling window on the far side of her wall, setting a steady drum beat that matches the pace of her heart.