What do you want to be? Invisible? You want to fly? Do you want to turn to stone?"

-Chris Carney

Multiplayer Design Lead


A Spartan's Tale: Fall of Corvette

by Malaki Quest

After bookmarking the page he was on, Anthony closed and set the hardback novel down on the small table beside him and massaged his eyes. He'd been off in his own bubble, and now that he'd exited, everything looked a little fuzzy. He was startled by sudden commotion coming from the middle of the room where his teammates were doing a bit of friendly gambling. At least, it was supposed to be friendly.

"That's it!" Oswald exclaimed, standing with such force that he knocked his chair back with a loud smack!

Here we go again...

Anthony watched silently from his cot as Oswald waved an accusatory hand in Edgar's direction, exasperated.

"I mean, why are we even letting this guy deal? Look how he's holding the deck!"

Edgar started busting up laughing. It was clear he had been playing a whole different game entirely. Now that he was caught, he saw no sense in denial. The jig was up. He laid his cards down face up on the table, and the hand was so perfect he completely lost whatever composure he'd managed to hold on to. It was a royal flush.

Oswald jabbed a finger at Edgar, who by now was laughing like a maniac with an open mouth and wide eyes turned to the ceiling, and shouted, "You fucking snake!"

Norman shook his head and tossed his own cards on the table, over it. Oz looked as if he might swing any second (that guy was always looking for a reason to spar, and favored a devastating right hook that bent jawlines) but paused when Edgar stopped laughing. Temporarily. He had to catch his breath, and he did so with the same sort of inhaled yelling that one might do after holding their breath underwater for too long and finally coming up to the surface for air.

Oz's shocked expression morphed into a close-lipped grin that read I'll get you back. Anthony knew he wouldn't, though. Edgar was constantly trying to get one over on people, to manipulate or outsmart them. Not maliciously; he did these things simply because he was good at it. Oz has a short fuse and is Edgar's favorite target, often at the cost of the latter receiving a black eye or a busted lip or some sort of combo deal involving both plus a little extra.

Norman on the other hand doesn't even bother with him. As far as he's concerned, at least when they're off the battlefield, everything coming out of Edgar's mouth is pure, uncut bullshit. Simple and plain. Anthony himself plays it somewhere in the middle. Whenever Edgar would try to catch him up on the losing end of one of his backwards riddles, Anthony would go along with it until he was able to flip it back on him.

One mustn't try to bullshit a bullshitter.

Edgar may enjoy visiting, but logic puzzles and wordplay were Anthony's playgrounds. Anthony leaned over and picked his book back up for another hour long stint, wanting desperately to get a glass of water and to not have to get up at the same time. Maybe he could trick ol' Eddie into getting it for him. He glanced back at the laughing maniac and decided against it. Sometimes Anthony lost those mind games, and he could already see himself walking back in here with two glasses of water.

I'll pass.

Anthony was nose deep in the pages moments later when Norman received a sudden transmission from the team's handler, Colonel Holland. Everyone listened intently as he delivered them their riskiest mission yet.