AFTER HOURS
CHAPTER 1—DEFEAT
If there is one thing I hate, it is losing. A loss is especially galling when it was avoidable, and doubly so when your brother's irresponsibility is responsible.
Winners: Fiora—Nunu—Ryze—Vayne—Soraka
Losers: Darius—Gragas—Brand—Draven—Braum
My four teammates were falling-down drunk, pissed out of their minds. Whose idea was it to crack open a couple of casks before the game? Draven's.
The replays showed me the fiasco in bot lane, where Draven was completely unable to catch a spinning axe, something he ought to be able do in his sleep. And his partner kept shouting "Shtand behind Braum!" and then jumping behind Draven instead of in front. A couple of times he even knocked my brother over with his door. Brand was just as bad. How can you miss a relatively slow target like Ryze with a huge blast radius fireball?
Nunu had dropped by to wish our team good luck before the match. In a matter of seconds tankards had been set up for him and for Willump. Gragas is deceptively fast when he wants to be.
"Don't get the yeti drunk—you won't like him when he's drunk," warned Nunu. But Draven insisted…and then later it turned out that Willump is even more of a drunken master than Gragas.
But what really bothers me is that Fiora, the Demacian snob, probably would have beaten me in lane even without Nunu's help. I was trying hard to carry the match all by myself, and time and again she let me overextend myself before riposting with lethal precision. I really, really hate losing to Demacians. I just want to get away and sulk. But here comes the catalyst of the disaster, grinning as usual. He sees that I am in a black mood, and would prefer to be left alone, but of course, he's my brother and we hang out all the time, so I won't be allowed any solitary brooding time.
"Don't fret, brother. We've got all weekend to have fun. I'll find us something that we can win, for sure for sure. Count on Draven. Oh yeah. I almost forgot…I signed us up for one of the cultural events celebrating Ionian Lunar New Year."
"You and culture don't mix," I observe, but my brother, as always, is oblivious to criticism.
"Don't have to. Draven is his own culture," grins the idiot. "Hey, this will be fun."
I sigh and acknowledge the bonds of kinship. "What have you signed us up for, exactly. Not a drinking contest, I hope."
"Nope. This will be child's play. As in, doubles ping-pong."
"Strength for glory, brother! Ping-pong is a game that favours the agile."
"We are agile. Watch me juggle axes."
"That's dextrous, not agile, Draven."
"Same thing. Come on, let's see who our competition is…or would you rather default."
My brother knows very well that quitting is out of the question for me. I shrug and follow him to the Ionian Pavilion.
Our first match is against Fizz and Gnar. Neither of them can see the tabletop without jumping his own height in the air.
"We can't lose," laughs Draven as our opponents bounce up and down.
But we do.
Our huge, powerful bodies, fine-tuned for strength and carnage, are constantly getting in each other's way, as we attempt to follow the little white ball.
With "Shugi shugi shugi" echoing in my ears, I turn my back on the annoying little munchkins and leave the table.
Our second match is against Ezreal and Lux, a cute couple. Ezreal is a dangerous player at this game, but he has chosen to play with the young woman he is dating rather than somebody of his skill level. Draven mercilessly smashes the ball right at Lux, over and over again. We demolish the young lovers, but unlike me, they clearly don't care how badly they lose. They leave the table hand in hand, whispering nauseatingly sweet nothings to each other as they go. The victory only makes me feel a tiny little bit better, however, because the opposition didn't care about defeat.
Round three pits Draven and I against the fan favourites, Irelia and Shen. We are getting better, as we learn to move around without bumping into each other, and we take them to three games, but the Ionians have been playing games like this all their lives and they know all the tricks. Draven tries to confuse them by switching hands—the man is ambidextrous after all—but to no avail. We lose a second match and are eliminated from any chance of victory.
"Shall we go now?" asks Draven.
"No, I want to at least beat the Demacian team," I reply.
"Fine," says my brother.
We have a bye in Round 4. Unbelievably, Irelia and Shen go down to defeat at the hands of Fiora and Vayne. Vayne's acrobatics and Fiora's flawless footwork carry the day. Shen bows deeply, showing the Demacians much respect. Fiora strikes a pose and gives the Ionians a fencer's salute with her paddle. If she's trying to be cute, she failed. If she's trying to be respectful, she failed.
I turn to Draven, who was also watching the match. "Did you learn anything about their style that we can exploit when we face them?
"They both have great legs," observes the idiot. "I think I'll try Draven's patented pick-up lines on Vayne after the match."
"What? You want to sleep with a Demacian?"
"Why not? Sleeping with a Demacian woman is still sleeping with a woman, which is better than not getting any. If you try it, you'll see I'm right. Why don't you hit on Fiora?"
"Drop dead. Let's just go beat them at ping-pong."
"Yessir."
But Draven has switched from Noxian Warrior mode to Clown Around for the Girls mode, and we soon find ourselves losing.
"Stop the playful banter, Draven, and just smash the ball down their throats," I beg.
But apparently Draven has the maturity of a boy, who can't hear a reference to balls and throats without breaking into laughter. His play gets even worse.
We lose again.
Fiora makes as if to start her fencer's salute with her paddle, but I interrupt her: "Don't you dare give me one of your condescending salutes."
She looks at me blankly for a moment, then replies coldly, "Très bien." She spins and walks off without another glance. Draven immediately moves in on Vayne.
"Hey Night Hunter, are you hunting for anyone in particular tonight?"
"Not looking for a run-in with any Noxians, sorry."
Draven is unfazed.
"Yeah, me neither. Are you looking for some Draven, though?"
Vayne looks surprised. It is clear that spending time with my brother has never even entered her mind. "I don't think so."
"How about some Ionian food?"
"I suppose," she admits. "Winning helps work up an appetite."
"Great. I just have to console my brother here, then I'll meet you in the buffet line."
Vayne, somewhat bemused, shakes her head, then wanders off.
"She wants me," says Draven, who always assumes that every woman he meets is in a state of perpetual need that can be satisfied by him and him alone. "Sorry, brother. I thought ping-pong would be easier. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise."
He claps me on the shoulder and saunters off to continue his attempt at romance.
I'm doing a slow burn as I return to our apartment. I hate losing. I am looking forward to giving my brother an earful, but Draven doesn't make an appearance. Unbelievable. Can that idiot have been successful? It defies logic. I pound my fist against the wall over and over again until I finally fall asleep, the ping-pong tournament spinning around and around my brain.
Final rankings:
Fiora & Vayne
Irelia & Shen
Fizz & Gnar
Draven & Darius
Ezreal & Lux
Draven is back by breakfast time and tells me, "We're going to have a blast today. First, there is the pool party and the weather is going to be just perfect, then tonight, I have arranged dinner for us."
"What if I don't want to dine with you?"
"Don't be that way, brother. It's not just me, I've recruited some female companionship for the occasion." Seeing my face, he hastily adds, "Not Demacian."
"Pool party, eh?"
"Yeah, what could be better than showing off our perfect bods for the admiring crowds?"
"Winning."
"Fine, we'll find something to win when we get there."
The best that Draven could come up with: Chicken fights, also known as piggyback fights.
Wading around the pool with my brother's powerful thighs locked around my neck and his speedo jammed into the back of my head isn't really my idea of fun, but pulling others off their partners and dunking them is not bad, and the game does favour the strong. Jarvan and Sejuani go down—apparently riding a warboar is different than riding a Prince of Demacia—then Gangplank and Graves, then Tryndamere and Jayce—once the King of the Freljord went berserk Jayce found himself riding a bucking bronco and hardly needed Draven to make him fall off.
Next, Garen and Fiora. This should be fun. Fiora won't be able to rely upon her legendary footwork while perched on top of the bruiser's shoulders. The match starts as a cagey affair, as Garen and I maneuver for flanking attacks while Fiora and Draven try to grab each other's wrists.
And then, Draven makes himself unpopular with the Demacians (and popular with the spectators—obviously most of them are idiots too) by pulling off Fiora's bikini top. It may not have been deliberate, and the top may have been a little too ornamental and not robustly sporty, but this is my brother, never one to miss an opportunity. Fiora is crying foul, but Draven enjoys playing to the crowd, and he laughs it off with "I don't know why she is so mad—there's not much to see." Draven then tosses the piece of swimwear over his shoulder. Totally uncalled for.
"Don't you ever get tired of being a prime jerk?" I ask.
"She can jerk my prime beef jerky."
"Guess not. You do realise that we represent the dignity and honour of Noxus."
"Vous êtes des ignorants. Complètement nuls," declares Fiora, who can't seem to decide whether to just leave or to circumnavigate the two of us to retrieve her top.
"That's why I shave my chest—gotta show off my perfect powerful pectorals." Draven completely ignores Fiora as he answers me. Fiora decides to leave. She slips off of Garen with as much dignity as she can manage, and wades away, her hands across her breasts.
"I think you missed and shaved off another chunk of your brain instead."
"Hey, brother, I don't need brains when I have the rest of Draven. You can do the thinking for both of us."
Looks like we are the kings of the pool.
"No other challengers?" taunts Draven.
"Do you wanna play? It'll be fun." It's Annie, in her little-girl one-piece and a bathing cap with cute little wolf ears on it.
Draven grins. "Sure, why not. Who's your partner, shortstuff—Teemo? Or Tibbers? Whatever, just bring it."
Annie's partner is completely submerged as they rush us. When they miss and are forced to circle around, I find myself feeling sorry for whomever the kid forced to play. The feeling is short-lived. Suddenly, Annie starts rising from the water, revealing the identity of her partner on whose shapely shoulders she is perched, and I know that we are in trouble: Nami. As the Tidecaller grins, I feel something around my ankles and suddenly we are toppling backwards. Her tail may look delicate and weak in the air, but believe me, it's anything but in the water.
Draven and I are defeated. Again.
Later, after we have changed out of our pool gear, I ask my brother, "So, I forgot to ask: With whom are we dining?"
"Katarina and Cassiopeia. Good Noxians both. It's a double-double date: Two brothers with two sisters."
"Which sister do I get?"
"We'll toss a coin."
End of Chapter 1
Next: The Double-Double Date