Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“Not all over the world,” Jordan argued. “They’re all contained in this hemisphere, in the US, Canada, and South America. And two of the South American ones will be in the US for the Ascendant’s Tournament at HOGCon, which is coming up soon.” Riggs lifted an inquiring eyebrow, and Jordan shrugged. “What? Literally everyone knows that.”
“Not everyone,” Champ grumbled. “Some of us actively avoid knowing.” He sighed. “I hate this fucking game. Fine, then. Elvo, grab your whiteboard, and let’s make a plan.”
I continued eating my cheese and crackers, totally engrossed as the team brainstormed around me. They made a list of all the names they were tracking and where the associated Horn was currently. Hux told Elvo which names to put a star next to, as those represented HOG players who were expected to be in Las Vegas for the tournament. I found myself nodding along as they came up with their plan.
“You need someone to play in that tournament,” I advised around a mouthful of cracker. “That’ll be your best chance at getting close enough to those two Horns.”
Hux nodded. “I can do it.”
“But you can’t,” I reminded him gently. “You were disqualified after the javelin toss, remember? You need three high-level quest achievements in order to qualify. Not to mention, you need a hundred game-play hours in the thirty days leading up to the tournament, and you’re hardly ever on anymore.” I swallowed. “I mean, that I’ve noticed. Not that I would notice. In fact, I definitely wouldn’t. Unless someone notified me that HogMasterHux was looting my jam cellar or torching my kelp.”
Champ groaned slightly and shook his head. “Please tell me that’s all a euphemism for something,” he begged Riggs, who patted his shoulder comfortingly.
“I can qualify if I play as Sm…” Hux’s face reddened. He snapped his jaw closed before trying again. “Uh. If I play as soon as I’m done here and as often as possible over the next week.”
“That would require you to complete quests back-to-back, while also playing enough to restore your health points and restock your power-ups, while also doing all the groundwork for the op, unless you have some super-secret method of qualifying that I don’t know about,” I scoffed.
Hux set his jaw and glanced away.
Right. I rolled my eyes. For the love of Commander William T. Riker. I didn’t care if Hux was being protective or guilty—the man was so pigheaded it made me want to scream. He couldn’t do it all. He shouldn’t have to do it alone. Not when I could help.
I mean, yes, I’d never actually appeared at an in-person tournament before, and, yes, the idea was more-than-slightly terrifying. But I’d already been toying with the idea just as an excuse to meet Anomaly, and now I had even more incentive.
Hux’s gaze caught on my hand, which rested on the table, while my fingers tap-tap-tapped out a Fibonacci sequence of their own volition. I quickly trapped my hand between my thigh and my chair and assumed a confident expression. “I can do it,” I told Champ breezily. “I have plenty of game-play hours, and I only need to complete one more quest. Easy peasy.”
“You never go to in-person tournaments.” Hux made the statement sound like an accusation.
I shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.”
In fact, if I played my cards right, I might have more than one first time while I was in Vegas.
But Hux, my own personal wet blanket, was shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. You… you’re not a member of this team, and like Champ said, you’re not a trained operative. Besides, we can get at the Horns another way. You don’t… I mean, we don’t… need to be in the tournament itself. We can approach the cartel guys while they’re walking through the hotel and pick their pockets. We can get into their rooms, uh… somehow… and steal them. We can…” His voice trailed off, probably due to a distinct lack of decent ideas.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. How about if I qualify for the tournament just in case?”
The look Hux shot me was almost feral. What the heck was his problem?
“I will qualify for it,” he growled. “You can… you can provide support from here in the Thicket.”
“Why doesn’t Kev qualify, and then Hux can borrow his…” Jordan began reasonably, but they broke off immediately when Hux and I sent them matching incredulous stares. “Oh. Whoa. Right, no. Just kidding. Ha!” they said, wide-eyed. “Forgot that’s a violation of the first HOG-zealot commandment.”
“Unlike some people, I would never use a teammate’s gear without permission.” Hux shot me a look that proved I was absolutely not forgiven for accessing his system earlier. “And I wouldn’t touch Kev’s Horn with a ten-foot pole.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Champ whisper-demanded, leaning toward Riggs again.
Riggs shook his head.