DISCLAIMER:

There has been some confusion with this story. Readers are assuming it is based on actual events. And while I will admit to having an altercation with another character on World of Warcraft that spawned the creation of this story, all character names will only coincidentally match those of the real game. All interactions are devised of my own demented imagination. I do not own World of Warcraft; no infringement against Blizzard is intended. And no harm to their gaming universe is intended, either.

-CHAPTER ONE-

Let me start off by admitting my two, and only, weaknesses. The first is World of Warcraft. There, I've said it. (Hi, my name is Laura, and I'm a hopeless Warcraft addict…)

You wouldn't think so to look at me, though. If I were holding up the game store line, keeping you from getting the latest first-person Shooter, you'd assume I was lost on my way to Abercrombie and Fitch because let's be honest – I have an obvious tendency toward personal hygiene. I don't have any crumbs down my shirt; my teeth are still white because I've learned that coke isn't water… You'd take one look at me and think that because I wear Uggs and no makeup, because I have long hair and a linen scarf, that I drive a Prius. But I wouldn't much appreciate the judgment.

Anyway, I like to stay up late raiding with strangers around the world. And not many of my friends understand what I mean by 'downing bosses', but I don't care. I don't have very many IRL anyhow, not now that all I care about is getting epic gear, and showing up that stupid, egotistical Smithlol, bringing me to my second weakness: A teeny, tiny streak of anger that is usually dormant.

But once in awhile it runs rampant, which is why I'm in the current predicament.

[Healslut] That was not my fault.

And it really wasn't my fault!

[Smithlol] Really? Was someone else supposed to be healing?

[Healslut] Don't be a dick, if you want me to resurrect you…

The other guys (or girls – it's unfair to assume that all gamers are pre-pubescent, male outcasts, though the majority are), had stayed mostly quiet, since Smith and I had been at each other's throats pretty much from the beginning. Well, at least after the initial flirting.

[Smithlol] Is everyone level 85 except me?

[Healslut] Apparently – jealous?

[Smithlol] lol… Maybe:)

(Notice the little smiley face? I sure did. And he might have been hot, if he weren't such an absolute ass.)

[Smithlol] Not jealous. Just curious why you guys aren't doing Heroics.

[Healslut] I'm practicing healing – oh wait, you didn't wanna hear that…

I'd started my character with the noble intent to heal – thus the name. But until this morning, after growing bored with tanking, I'd never had the chance. I'd been a tank out of duty. So, I actually was practicing being a healer – that was no joke. Of course, Smith hadn't thought that to be a problem.

[Smithlol] lol - You can practice healing me anytime, baby.

Now that last might have been an awkward foray into the reasons why you don't flirt with online characters. But fortunately for Smith, I'm not a forty-something, pervert with a skin condition and genital warts.

[Healslut] Lucky me…

[Shocksalot87] Can you guys get a room AFTER we run this? I don't have all night…

We were in a decently easy dungeon – one I'd seen a hundred times before. But for one reason or another (usually because Smith the ultra-tank couldn't seem to wait for the rest of his group), we kept wiping.

Which means everyone dies. Which means – It's my fault.

As soon as everyone was alive again, we made our way down another dark, stone corridor. Someplace you would never see, if not for games like this one. The cracks in the walls were life like, the dragons ahead breathed crimson fire.

[Healslut] Sure wish my Lay on Hands had no cool down…

Lay on Hands is a spell that instantly heals a party-member with one little click of a button. It's a life saver, literally – the easiest spell to use. And my words were meant to be a joke. I was trying to lighten the mood by making fun of my ability to heal. Or maybe, deep down, I was fishing for a compliment. But nobody stroked me ego. Not even a little.

[Smithlol] Not really instilling much confidence, Heals…

Said my lovely tank. I was fuming, but refusing to leave the group because I knew once I left they'd all start bad-mouthing me. Saying what a baby I was. Only they'd probably use a more demeaning word than 'baby'. And I was no quitter.

[Healslut] Whatever…

I'd show him confidence.

[Shocksalot87] Come on guys. Can we just do this in peace?

[Loverboy] Yeah, I don't have much longer. Wife agro…

[Smithlol] We could probably get through this quicker if we didn't spend so much time wiped across the stone floor.

Before I could think of a witty, scathing reply to elevate my stature from shitty healer to shitty, bitchy healer, Smith was in the mix of bad guys, fighting for his quickly ebbing life. He really had no patience. I clicked a couple of buttons – the green beside his avatar icon filled up again.

Of the five of us, Smith was tank (supposedly the person who holds all the agro and takes all the damage), I was healer (supposedly the one who keeps us all alive), and the other three were damage dealers (the ones responsible for killing whatever we fight). So far, none of us were really doing our jobs…

There were still several more mobs of guys to kill before even the first boss. And there were three total bosses to down before getting the main prize, whatever that was. None of us really cared; we were all in here for points that we could eventually use to buy stuff in the game. We drove through two more mobs without incident, unless you count Loverboy and his continuous rant that his wife was threatening divorce if he didn't spend some time with her.

[Loverboy] Seriously, guys. My wife is pissed – I gotta go.

He logged off; there was a tiny, red lightning bolt through his name to let us all know he was gone.

[Smithlol] Fuck me.

He voted to kick Lover, and we all sat patiently waiting for a new member to be beamed in. It was a wonderful, bonding moment as we all banded together to whine about deserters. Maybe – just maybe – I was trying to get back on the tanks good side by agreeing with him.

[Smithlol] What the hell? Is it so difficult to keep a one hour commitment? People are rude.

[Healslut] Yeah, they are.

[Smithlol] I mean, maybe you can't heal worth shit, but at least you stick it out;)

I wasn't sure if that was a left-handed compliment, but it was probably the best I could hope for. Plus, I didn't want to start fighting again. Not yet.

[Healslut] Uh… Thanks.

[Shocksalot87] Not really his fault – except that it sounds like he married a total bitch.

[Smithlol] Doesn't matter. DPS are a dime-a-dozen, anyway.

[Shocksalot87] lol… Fuck you, man.

[Smithlol] Naw, I don't swing that way.

The new player bleeped onto our screens. He (or she), called himself 000slash000 – a rogue.

[000slash000] Hey peeps – how goes it?

And based on his language skills, he was likely a kid who may or may not have to log off for bath time at any second.

[Smithlol] K, let's go. Buff us up, Heals.

Bossy much? Ever in a hurry, the tank moved on. I clenched my teeth and clicked a spell that would give us all extra armor and followed behind Smith's large, lumbering character. He was all decked out in plate metal gear; his weapon glowed blood-red. Still, he was difficult to find amid the sparks as everyone shot off their spells a little too early. I worked as quickly as possible, tensely hitting keys and muttering under my breath. By the end of the fight everyone's life was down to ten percent except for Smith. He was at zero, and he wasn't all that happy about it.

[Smithlol] Fuck. Seriously, Heals?

My heart pounded with anger, but before I could start spewing insults at 75wpm, the others came to my rescue.

[000slash000] Dude, that was a tough fight, man.

[Papaplayswow] Yeah, take it easy. She said she was new to healing, remember? Give her a break.

[Smithlol] I did. The first and second times I died. This is bullshit.

I decided to stay quiet. I wiped sweating palms on my jeans, took a sip of my energy drink, and hit the pink res button on my screen. Smith's form reanimated; I healed him, begrudgingly.

[Smithlol] This next fight is a boss. I doubt we'll be able to take him with this group:/

Cocky bastard just couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough for me to regain control over my emotions. I gave in and typed a sarcastic mockery of his earlier choice words.

[Healslut] Not instilling much confidence, are you?

Smith dove into the fight, hardly waiting to make sure we were all behind him. The dragon took his life down to half in a single swipe.

[Smithlol] Not my job.

I resisted the urge to let him die, healed him instead, and started typing.

[Healslut] Actually, that little mark above your head? The leader symbol? It means we have to follow you. As leader, it's your job to make us confident.

[Shocksalot87] It's only a game, guys…

Smith ignored him.

[Smithlol] Don't get your panties all bunched up. Just fuckin' keep me alive this time! And stop typing!

[Papaplayswow] Got ads over here!

Papa was a fragile mage. He'd die if he stood on the boss's shadow, or if one of the minions breathed in his direction. I watched as his character ran around in a circle. Smith drew everything off him just in time. But now the main dragon guy was all over Shock. Fortunately, he was well armored as a Shaman. And by the time the fight was over – everyone had lived.

Because of me. I gloated.

[Healslut] How's that for instilling confidence?

[Shocksalot87] Piece of cake.

He was obviously trying to smooth the tension.

[Smithlol] A little luck never hurt anyone.

Everyone headed in the same direction, through a majestic doorway, into another part of the dungeon, where we wiped one final time. And now everyone was pissed at me, not just Smith.

[000slash000] Fail, man.

[Shocksalot87] What the hell happened that time?

[Smithlol] Ask the healer.

[Healslut] What? You can't keep agro for shit, Smith! And I spent half the time sheeped!

Translation – I was incapacitated.

[Smithlol] Heh… I couldn't tell. You were healing same as usual.

Just then, one of my roommates got in. The front door opened and closed. A bag was dropped to the floor, along with a set of keys.

"Hey, Cat," I called through my open bedroom doorway.

"Hey, Slut." Her endearing nickname for me had nothing to do with my extra-curricular activities or my game name. "Do anything constructive today?"

The fridge squeaked; a can of soda popped open to remind me how full my bladder was. I figured it would be a good three minutes before the group was ready to go again. But when I got back from the bathroom, my character was sitting all lonely-like in the center of town. I was no longer part of the group. They'd chucked me out like old meat.

"What?" I scrolled up to see what they'd said about me.

[Shocksalot87] Why is Heals doing 8.5k damage?

[Smithlol] Might be part of the problem. I vote for a new healer.

"That asshole kicked me?" I was talking to myself, but Cat was in my doorway now, leaning in her usual relaxed stance and drinking non-diet cola. She didn't believe in synthetic sweeteners, and apparently my current conundrum wasn't a major concern of hers.

"Who kicked you?" she asked, irritated. "Sweetie, there's nobody else in here."

"On the game. I was doing a run, and the fucking tank just kicked me out." I was beyond angry now. I was traumatized, and premenstrual, and irate!

"So, is this all you did today? Game?" Cat slithered, just like her name insinuated, over to my bed where she took a seat, but only after tossing a pile of clothes and books to the floor.

"You say that like it's a bad thing… Hey," I turned halfway around in my swivel chair. "I just organized that pile!"

"Me too."

"You are such a pain."

"And you love me anyway."

"Yes, by the way," I answered her earlier question. "This is the extent of my productiveness for the day."

She set her cold beverage, condensation and all, on my expensive oak side table. "Your BS sits crying in the corner."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "Use a coaster."

"Do you ever plan on joining the rest of us in our rat-race toward the financial top of the world?" she asked me, referring to the fact that even after graduating from Columbia, I had yet to apply for a job in my field. "Or are you just gonna ride the trust-train forever."

"Bitch," I muttered teasingly.

"Rich girl."

"Nice insult coming from the one wearing my designer jeans."

She laughed. "They don't fit you anymore now that you spend all your time at that computer."

"Not all my time," I countered, giving her the evil eye. "I paid my rent today."

Suddenly, her confidence mellowed into chagrin. "Is it the fifth of the month already?"

"And I paid yours." I went back to my computer, only to realize with a certain measure of distress that Smithlol wasn't even on my realm. He was using an entirely different server, one that I wouldn't be able to access without starting a new character.

Oh well. He couldn't be allowed to just get away with brushing me off! That would set a very bitter standard. I jotted down the words Smithlol and Winterhoof on a blue sticky note, planning my revenge.

The front door opened again, only this time it didn't close. Someone had left it hanging lazily open.

I eyed Cat who stood from the bed. "And hers," I sang, talking about our third roommate who liked to title her occupation as a 'dancer'.

Yeah.

"What time is it?" I asked rhetorically, checking the clock at the bottom of my monitor. It read 5:35pm.

"Stop it," Cat warned. She knew all too well what I was getting at. That innocent Sarah had been out all night and day – she was probably coming down off a coke high.

"I know, I know." My hands went defensively into the air. "She's been your friend since daycare, and she's just going through a 'hard time'," I quoted Cat in my most sarcastic voice.

"You've never had to work for a fucking thing in all your sparkly, little life, Laura," she seethed before storming from the room.

And she had a point.