Slum Online (17 page)

I was less than successful in conveying all of that to Ricky.

> You’re messing up my timing. Leave me alone.

> Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you.

> I beat you once, I can beat you again.

> I haven’t forgotten. I’ll never forget.

He had beaten me. Ricky was better than Tetsuo then.

No matter how good Tetsuo became, he could never erase that defeat. Like a world champion boxer who had lost a fight to the local bully when he was a kid. A defeat that would echo across the ages. Years later, sitting in a dingy bar, the middle-aged bully could boast that he beat the champ, and it would be true. It was better to accept a hard fact than struggle against it.

When Ricky beat Tetsuo, his corpse had sunk into a digital sea. I rode on the surface of that sea. The sea was my past. It had carried me where I was today.

Tetsuo moved away from Ricky. Ricky went back to practicing combos. Punch and kick sound FX reverberated. In those last minutes before the match, I left Tetsuo behind and became Etsuro Sakagami. I read a manga.

Then I pressed the A button and I was Tetsuo again. The first match of the second elimination round began. It was only the second time Tetsuo and Ricky had fought. Ricky never did street fight rematches.

Ricky back-dashed as soon as the match started. Just what I wanted to see. Tetsuo rushed forward, closing the gap between them. Still in a speed dash, Tetsuo threw a middle punch. I hadn’t noticed that Ricky had already canceled out of the back dash. Ricky’s response to Tetsuo’s careless attack was immediate. He transitioned seamlessly from a crouching back dash to a headlong charge, delivering a brutal open-palmed thrust. A counterhit. Tetsuo’s body lifted off the ground.

Ricky punched Tetsuo’s airborne body once. Twice. He canceled into an elbow strike, then did a crouching punch. Tetsuo hit the ground. Ricky backed away without pressing the attack.

Tetsuo’s health gauge had taken a big hit. He rose to his feet.

I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d come into the fight expecting Ricky to back up right from the start. Ricky must have guessed as much, and he used it against me, just as he’d used that hollow at the base of the column outside JTS. He was good, no question about it.

Tetsuo moved forward and to the right. Ricky faked a forward charge, then canceled and moved off at an angle from Tetsuo. The two characters rotated 60 degrees counterclockwise around the center of the ring. Tetsuo threw his fastest punch. Ricky dodged with a crouching back dash. Tetsuo speed-dashed forward. He canceled out of a buffered punch and speed-dashed again. Tetsuo closed the distance between himself and Ricky, who had only been inching backwards.

Ricky unleashed a middle kick. With only a few pixels to spare, Tetsuo responded with a toe kick. Tetsuo’s kick connected, but it was light. Not a counterhit. Tetsuo pressed closer.

Ricky spun away to his right, throwing a backhand as he did. The backhand hit Tetsuo, but Ricky kept retreating. Tetsuo advanced. Ricky shaved another sliver off Tetsuo’s health with a crouching punch. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t worried about crouching punches. If Ricky wanted to knock a few pixels off Tetsuo’s health, he was welcome to. Whatever it took to get Tetsuo into position to drive home the combo that would decide the match. Ignoring the chipping he was giving Tetsuo, I closed in and gave the command for a throw. With a head butt, Tetsuo sent Ricky sprawling on the ground. Circling the center of the ring, Tetsuo approached Ricky’s prostrate body.

Ricky rolled to the side and regained his feet. He back-dashed to the left. Tetsuo speed-dashed forward and to the left to keep pace. Tracing a broad, 120-degree arc, the two characters slowly grew closer.

Keeping his body low to the ground, Ricky made a spinning foot sweep. Tetsuo launched a low standing spin kick. A counterhit sound FX rang out. The hits landed at the same time, sending both characters flying.

Ricky was the first to rise. He threw a slow but powerful middle punch at Tetsuo as he picked himself up off the ground. Tetsuo blocked. Ricky threw his fastest punch, then another. Canceling out, Ricky kicked low and from the right. The kick landed. Ricky did a speed-dash throw. I gave the throw-break command, but not in time. Tetsuo skidded across the gray textured floor of the arena as Ricky circled toward the middle of the ring.

As he stood, Tetsuo did a middle spin kick. I canceled out of the kick and linked a heel drop. Ricky blocked. He answered with a string of light attacks.

With the exception of his move at the start, Ricky had completely avoided any big moves that could quickly decide the match. That must have been the only point at which I had left myself open to attack. Tetsuo took a few more punches that chipped away at his health. Ricky’s health would be lower too, but Tetsuo would still be behind thanks to the large amount of damage he’d taken at the beginning of the match.

Ricky back-dashed. Tetsuo speed-dashed. Immediately canceling, Tetsuo back-dashed and then jump-kicked. The kick landed as a counterhit on the crouching punch Ricky had intended to meet Tetsuo’s speed dash. Ricky flew into the air, but not high enough. Tetsuo caught Ricky’s falling body with a crouching punch. Canceling out of the move, Tetsuo followed with a low spin kick. The combo didn’t land in time. Ricky was on his feet again.

I was running short on time. If no one was KO’d within the time limit, the character with the most remaining health was declared the winner. It was obvious that Ricky intended to keep running away until time ran out.

There’s a scene in an old samurai movie where a wise sword master explains how the swordsman who struck first had lost the match before it had begun. The same could be said of fighting games. Waiting for your opponent to attack and then countering whatever he came at you with was a sound strategy. Sound, but not well loved. People who fought like that were often derided as cowards or worse. But this coward was winning.

Ricky didn’t always play the waiting game. In the match I’d watched him play the day before, he’d stayed on the offensive the whole time. It was both an indication of how badly he wanted to win this match and how fierce an opponent he considered Tetsuo to be.
Versus Town
was winner-take-all. If you won, it didn’t matter what strategy you used to get there. The victory was vindication enough. And Ricky was definitely an ends-justifies-the-means kind of player.

But that wasn’t how Tetsuo played. When I was up against an opponent who could only use rock and paper, I threw caution to the wind and flashed scissors. That was the way I had always done it, and it’s the way I would always do it, whether in
Versus
Town
or anywhere else. If I went with scissors and I lost, so be it. I couldn’t go back in time and relive my game against the bear, so I was stuck throwing scissors the rest of my life.

Playing chase with Ricky would hand him the win. To beat him, I had to give him a taste of his own medicine. It would be risky, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I pushed the stick once to the right. Tetsuo started walking toward Ricky. Ricky backed away in small, quick steps. Tetsuo kept walking. When he was in range of Ricky’s attacks, I didn’t block. Completely defenseless, Tetsuo advanced.

My stomach was tied in knots. An attack could come at any moment. All of my attention was focused on the nerves in my fingertips.
You gave yourself the advantage. Let’s see you
use it. Bring it on
. Step by step, the gap between Tetsuo and Ricky closed.

Ricky’s toe shifted a few pixels.

My index finger shot forward.

Ricky attacked with a crouching punch. Tetsuo struck out with his knee. The knee won. The counterhit sound FX played.

Ricky’s body was airborne. Tetsuo punched, canceled, and punched again. I linked a kick to the second punch, then canceled into a heel drop. Tetsuo threw a crouching punch, then speed-dashed. He canceled out of the speed dash and delivered a low spin kick. Another speed dash, and then Tetsuo hammered a fist down into Ricky’s body as it lay on the ground.

Ricky lay motionless atop a backdrop of sand textures. The sound FX announcing a winner rang out. The match clock was exactly at zero. Turning away from Ricky, who was still lying flat on his back, Tetsuo slowly descended the arena stairs.

Tetsuo won the second and third matches of the day without taking any damage to speak of. That his opponents had reached the second round meant they were good, but they were no match for Tetsuo. Ricky had been a far better fighter than either of them. The broad, flat floor of the arena was boring, and it bred boring competitors. Without having to worry about terrain, all you had to do was input the best countermove, and you would win.

A character approached Tetsuo after the third match.

> You’re good.

He was wearing a garish gongfu outfit with a large dragon uncoiling across his back. A long braid of hair hung from his balding head. He wore neither headband nor wristband. A middleweight snake boxer, he was familiar to almost everyone in Versus Town—it was Pak.

As the winner of the last tournament, Pak was exempt from the qualifying rounds, so he was here either on a whim or, more likely, to scout potential opponents. Being the best meant more than playing the game well. It required constant effort to gather intelligence on the competition. That was as true of virtual martial arts tournaments as it was of RL contests like the Olympics.

> Ricky’s kicking himself right now.

> He put up a good fight.

> Not good enough to beat you. If you’re going to turtle, I don’t care if your opponent walks up to you without a single block in sight, you have to stick to your strat and keep running.

> You’d have run?

> Nah, I’m more of a rushdown kind of guy. I wouldn’t have turtled to begin with. You and I should get along well. I’m looking forward to our match.

> We could fight now, if you want.

> Sorry, I don’t street fight.

Just as Ricky had said. I didn’t know when the next chance to talk to Pak would come, so I took a shot.

> Why not?

> There’s no point.

> I wouldn’t say that.

> There’s no reason to fight in the streets, and the game devs know it. That’s why they implemented forced log outs— to discourage people from engaging in pointless fights. You should’ve seen the place back in beta. Total madhouse.

> The forced log outs have worked, though.

> Once you get that first ding in a new car, it’s all downhill from there. I won’t be a part of that.

> What if you ran into Jack in Sanchōme?

> I wouldn’t even fight Jack on the streets. No exceptions.

> Don’t you want to fight him? See which of you is better?

> Not especially. Now if he entered the tournament, that would be another story. I really am looking forward to our match. Of course we could always play in Shinjuku on the weekends. But I hear you’re not a fan.

He walked away before I could reply. I didn’t notice until after he had left, but the entire time we were talking he hadn’t shifted his posture or made a single gesture. I knew he wasn’t a total stranger to JTS, but compared to that bunch, talking to Pak was like talking to a wooden training dummy.

Hashimoto approached me next.

> Congratulations on reaching the finals.

> Thanks.

> I come bearing good news and bad news.

> Let’s hear it.

The ninja gave an almost imperceptible nod.

> The tournament brackets have been decided. Should you emerge victorious from all of your matches, you will face Pak in the final round.

> I was just talking to him. He said he was looking forward to the match. Is that supposed to be the good news?

> You are to face the best player in all of Versus Town in a ring prepared specially for the purpose. Surely that qualifies as good news.

> I guess.

The final round of the tournament took place in its own dedicated ring. During the qualifying rounds, at any given time a number of matches might be taking place side by side, but in the finals, all of the matches took place in the same special-built ring.

On the last Saturday in June, from late afternoon into the evening, the sixteen players who advanced to the finals would face each other in a single-elimination tournament. The final match would fall into primetime if this were television. Players logged in to
Versus Town
would be able to watch the match from any perspective they chose, even from the point of view of one of the combatants. During the first season tournament, over 90 percent of the players online had watched the match.