A/N: I am not a gamer, let alone a gamer from the 80s, so for anyone who knows their stuff, please forgive any arcade game inaccuracies (or any inconsistencies in general) I may have made. I did my best :)
Next Level
The bus came to a screeching halt, and the driver spoke in a booming voice. "We have arrived in Indianapolis, folks. The time is 9:15 on the dot. Please gather your belongings and exit through the front of the bus."
Hearing the voice of the driver, the passengers began to stir, gathering their bags and shuffling toward the front doors. Max took a deep breath. "Here we go." She scooped up her backpack and followed the crowd.
As she stepped off the bus, she took another deep breath, the cool air of the station filling her lungs. But her exhale was shaky. During the entire ride, Max couldn't shake the feeling of lying to her mom—lying to Billy… Even now, it continued to eat away at her.
Max was in the city. Alone. She never really cared about being alone in a bustling place or walking in the dark by herself, but to be doing this…
No. Now is not the time to question your choices, Max. She refused to let those thoughts linger any longer because she had a clear objective. One major goal—Win those tickets. She came this far, and she was going to see it through to the end.
Max stepped out of the station and scanned her surroundings, taking in the unfamiliar sights and sounds of the city. There were tall buildings, sure, but not as large as the skyscrapers she was used to. The last time she was down in Indianapolis, she hadn't really been able to take in the ambiance like she did now. She'd only been able to see the buildings from Neil's rental car when they passed through downtown for her mom's birthday on that god-awful day. That god-awful night…
She ruined Billy, ruined any chance he had of getting to go to that Metallica concert. Now, she was back to fix it.
She quickly pulled out her map and oriented herself, her eyes darting around as she took in everything. It was a good thing she arrived a little early—it gave her plenty of time to find the arcade.
As she continued to take in the surroundings, Max couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as she walked through the streets. She missed the feeling of city life—the constant movement, the vibrant energy, the sense that anything could happen at any moment.
But as she walked through the downtown area, she realized that Indianapolis had its own unique brand of city energy. It felt more like a fancy, intricate town than a city, with blocks you could memorize in less than a day. At least in Max's opinion. It may not have been as big or bustling as San Diego, but there was a palpable sense of business, casualness, and activity in the air.
The streets were lined with shops and restaurants, and people hurried along the sidewalks, their faces set in determined expressions. Others beamed during casual chit-chat. Max passed several couples holding hands and rowdy groups of friends, laughing with big mouths and toothy smiles.
But as she ventured deeper into the city, there was one thing she couldn't help but notice…
No subways or train stations, not even a red trolley like the ones in San Diego. Odd. Especially for a city. Then again, Hawkins had no trains either, not like the Bart she rode that one time she visited San Francisco. In fact, the only train she saw since being there was a railroad train on her bus ride to Indianapolis. It was actually her first time seeing a railroad crossing.
Max took a deep breath and refocused her attention on her mission. She checked her map again, but only briefly, as she remembered her dad's words.
Never seem lost. Always walk like you know where you're going.
It was one of his safety tips to her—a way to avoid looking like a tourist. A.K.A. an easy target. Max put away her map. She picked up her pace, her determination building as she neared her destination.
"500 Virginia Avenue should be around here somewhere…"
As she turned the corner, she stopped, her eyes immediately drawn to a large purple, white, and blue glowing sign above a building. Next Level.
Bingo.
Nervousness coursed through Max's veins as she approached the building she had been searching for. As she crossed the street, she couldn't help but fixate on the glowing "Next Level" sign above the entrance. Her eyes suddenly veered to the side. Next to the double doors was a flier caked with bold letters: ARCADE TOURNAMENT TODAY! OPEN TO ALL. WIN METALLICA TICKETS! REGISTER AT FRONT DESK.
Here we go.
With another deep breath, Max pushed open the door. But as soon as she stepped inside, the view took her breath away. Her mouth fell, shocked by the huge arcade that lay before her. The place was enormous and overwhelming, like a grand hall with rows and rows of games and machines going on forever, stretching out in all directions.
Max stepped along the abstract carpeted floors that strangely reminded her of a bowling alley. The machines blared, giving off mystery and chaos. The high ceilings only added to the sense of grandeur as they stretched up into the air. Max had never seen anything like it before, not even in California—this was truly a gamer's paradise.
Max smiled. "This is so cool…"
It was clear that "Next Level" was appropriately named—the arcade seemed to offer every kind of game imaginable.
She walked further in, giving a little twirl, stopping when she spotted a stage. What the heck does an arcade need a stage for? And—Is that a freaking Pizza Hut?!
Past the machines to the side of the vast room were sitting booths and a food stall with "Pizza Hut" glowing proudly above it. I feel like I'm at Chuck E. Cheese.
Max quickly shook her head, took another deep breath, and reminded herself why she was there. She had to get those Metallica concert tickets for Billy. She knew it was her fault he missed out on the opportunity to get the tickets himself, so now it was time to make it up to him. And the only way to do that was to participate in the tournament.
The sign-up booth was easy to spot, located just to the left of the entrance. Max made her way over and joined the line of eager competitors.
As she waited, she observed the other people around her. Max couldn't help but notice the lack of kids around her age in the arcade. Instead, most of the gamers were homely, punk-looking older teens, and even some adults.
But it was easy to understand why there were few kids. This was a Metallica event, after all, and she knew that most kids her age weren't into that kind of music. So why would they participate in an event like this?
But, because of that, it seemed that most of her aged competitors were out of their element.
Perfect.
Max finally reached the front of the line. She registered for the tournament, giving her name and her gamer name—Mad Max. The worker, a slightly tanned, stalky guy with dark hair, jotted the names down on a chart. As he did, Max looked at the empty arcade machines.
"No one playing yet?" she said.
The man—Parker, as his nametag read—shook his head. "Gameplay starts at 10. That way it's fair for everyone, you know?"
Max simply shrugged. How much fairer can a one-on-one tournament get? she thought.
Parker handed her a nametag. "You can wait with the others in the party room upstairs."
Max blinked, eyes widening as she jerked her head forward. "There's an upstairs?"
Parker chuckled. "Place really lives up to its name, huh?"
After receiving her nametag, he directed Max to a large room off to the side of the arcade on the second floor. The vast amount of chairs and plastic table cloths screamed "private party room", and since it was upstairs, that must have meant the entire second floor would have been reserved for party groups—their own private arcade.
As she walked in, she saw a group of chairs neatly arranged in rows, and she took a seat and set down her backpack, waiting for the rest of the participants to arrive.
One by one, people streamed in with each passing minute. As Max waited, a mix of nerves and excitement built up inside of her. Even though most of her competitors were out of their element, she knew that the competition would still be tough—there was always a diamond in the rough. She'd have to be sure to keep her focus, but she was determined to win those tickets for Billy.
Finally, the door opened, and the remaining competitors filed into the room, taking their seats. Shortly after, a man wearing a black and purple polo with black khakis swaggered in, his hair almost rivaling Steve's. A wide grin took over his face. He fixed a tacky, black, clip-on tie, shifting a microphone from one hand to another as he stood at the front of the room.
The gleeful man cleared his throat, silencing the room of eager competitors. "Alright, listen up folks," he said, his voice booming over the sound of the arcade machines just beyond the party room doors. "Welcome gamers! Thanks for coming out here tonight. I am your host, James, but you can call me Hot Rod!" He gave a flip of his hair.
Max rolled her eyes. Oh, brother.
James—or Hot Rod—looked out at the crowd with a gaping, encouraging smile. He seemed unbothered by the questioning glances and skeptical murmurs.
"We have some ground rules before we get this party going," he continued. "Here's how the tournament works. You've got twelve—count 'em—twelve hours to play as many games as possible—or just one game if you prefer. The scores from each game you played will be added up, and the person with the highest cumulative score wins."
What?
Max raised her hand.
"…to play the game you—yes, the little girl with the red hair."
Everyone turned to face Max. She shifted a little in her chair from their stares.
"I thought this was a tournament," she said, lowering her hand. "You know…one-on-one battles….Brackets…"
"What's the fun in that?!" Hot Rod beamed, the mic screeching. "Here at Next Level, we like to do things a little differently. With more—" he waved his hands "—pizzazz! A free for all! Besides, too many of you rascals for a simple one-on-one. We'd be here for days!"
Max simply stared.
This was unexpected.
When she'd thought up gaming strategies on the phone with Dustin, they came up with ideas with a one-on-one battle in mind—asserting dominance, getting in the opponent's head, trash-talking when necessary… But a free for all? That meant there would be no breaks, not unless she wanted to rack up as many points as possible.
No wonder that guy at the front desk said it would be fair for everyone to start at once.
Max leaned back in her chair. She'd have to come up with a new strategy.
"Now, as I was saying," Hot Rod continued, "the person with the highest cumulative score from all their played games wins. But to play the games, you'll need quarters."
Max's heart sank a little as she remembered the disclaimer on the flier.
"Out of quarters, out of luck," the host added, a sly grin on his face.
I guess that's one way to weed out some players. Literally pay to play.
Max clutched the side of her pocket that held the money Billy had given her. The money that represented her deal with Billy, how she promised not to get him in trouble anymore, so long as he was nice to her. She'd have to give it up—she'd have to let it go to get the tickets. Even now, she wasn't sure if $20 was enough for twelve hours of gaming. But somehow, she'd have to find a way to make it work.
This is for Billy, she reminded herself.
Hot Rod flicked his hair again. "Lastly, but most importantly, anyone caught cheating or damaging equipment will be disqualified. Eliminated. Booted into oblivion! With that said, ten minutes until showtime! For those who need quarters, you can find change machines right outside the door and downstairs by the entrance."
Everyone rose from their seats and raced to the machines. Max hesitantly took out the $20 and walked up to the machine, letting it eat up her bill. With noisy munching scanning sounds, the machine spit out a handful of quarters to start her gaming journey.
Her mom would have had a fit if she found out Max was spending this much money at an arcade. She didn't like her wasting her money on video games, but Max couldn't help herself. This was for Billy, after all. Hopefully her mom would never find out—she'd be grounded for sure. Hell, that would be light punishment compared to if she found out she lied and snuck off to a city by herself. Her mom would never let her see the light of day.
Still, that was nothing compared to what would happen to Billy if Neil found out… or what might happen to her…
Max shook her head. Now was not the time for those thoughts. She needed to focus.
Once all the gamers were set, everyone stood with their bags, hands, pockets, and socks filled with quarters. Max had never seen so many quarters in one place before. She couldn't believe that she was about to spend so much money on games, but she knew it was all for a good cause.
Hot Rod raised the mic to his lips. "Everyone ready to get this party started?!"
"Yeah!" the crowd cheered.
The host raised his arm in the air. "And game on!" he yelled, signaling the start of the tournament.
Everyone scattered, the floor a flood of chaos as they rushed to an open game.
It was a race. A battle of skill.
Maybe this is a good thing, Max thought. If she could play any game she wanted, that meant she could play the games she was best at. Yeah…that would be her strategy—focus on scoring as many points as possible on games she dominated!
Max rushed to find her first game, her eyes landing on the unmistakable yellow character among the sea of machines—Pac-man. A surge of confidence coursed through her. She had played this game countless times before, and she knew she was pretty good at it. With unwavering determination, she rushed over, wasting no time as she swiftly inserted a quarter into the slot.
As the familiar tune filled the air, Max's fingers effortlessly flew over the joystick and buttons. She quickly fell into a rhythm, harmonious tactics emerging as she seamlessly navigated the maze, hungrily gobbling up every pellet while skillfully evading the relentless ghosts. Time seemed to warp and bend around her—she was completely absorbed in the pursuit of victory. Only when a subtle numbness tingled in her hand did she momentarily realize how much time had passed.
Despite her clever tactics, those pesky ghosts eventually got the better of her. They chased her relentlessly, closing in from all sides until there was nowhere left to run. With a sigh of both frustration and determination, Max watched helplessly as her last life got gobbled up, bringing her epic gaming session to an end.
Max briefly looked at the large clock on the wall. 12:30? Already?! She had been so caught up in the game that she hadn't realized how much time had passed, and now she was worried about how much time was left. I didn't even get to the other games yet.
Feeling anxious, Max looked up at the high score screen, and to her surprise, she saw that she was in first place! 619,520 points. She thought she had done pretty well, but to be in the lead was something she didn't expect. Especially in a place called Next Level.
She smiled. Feeling proud of herself, Max pumped her fists in the air. She knew it was still early in the tournament and that there were plenty of other games to play, but for now, she was satisfied with her achievement.
"Oh, come on!"
Max turned, watching a teenage boy, wearing all black, pound on the side of a Dig Dug machine. He slapped the buttons with so much aggression, Max thought his fingers would break. When his player was crushed by a rock, he kicked at the machine. "Goddammit!"
Workers in black and purple polos were quickly at his side. Their lips moved, one gesturing towards the exit. The teenager snatched his arm when one of them lightly grabbed it.
"This is bullshit!… I'm going, I'm going."
As the boy was escorted away, obviously disqualified, Max moved without hesitation, claiming Dig Dug, her absolute favorite game, as her next conquest. With a glint of determination in her eyes, she knew this was her chance to shine. Dig Dug held no secrets from her. With nimble fingers and lightning-fast reflexes, she expertly maneuvered her character through the intricate underground tunnels, strategically eliminating every menacing enemy in her path.
The arcade buzzed with the sound of Max's precise movements and the rhythmic thuds of Dig Dug digging through the earth. She flawlessly executed combos, inflating enemies and racking up an astonishing number of points. Her score steadily climbed, a testament to her unparalleled skill and unwavering focus.
Time seemed to blur as Max delved deeper into the game, completely in the zone. With each passing level, her dominance became more apparent. She conquered every challenge the game threw at her, accumulating a score that surpassed all expectations. When the game finally ended, Max's triumphant smile beamed as she gazed at the screen, her final score proudly displaying 820,921 points.
With a satisfied exhale, Max stepped back from the machine, basking in the personal triumph of her dominating performance. She had proven herself as the undisputed champion of Dig Dug, a master of the underground realms. And as she left the game behind, she carried with her the pride and satisfaction that came from conquering her absolute favorite arcade masterpiece.
It was 3 o'clock now. Seven hours left.
More people had flooded in, the place now packed with determined competitors. Barely any machines were open in sight, especially the ones that gave the highest points. A few slots down, two people were arguing over Karate Champ.
"I was here first."
"Obviously not—don't you dare put that quarter in!"
Max moved on to another open machine, just as more Next Level workers headed towards the fighting boys. Lucky for her, another one of her favorite games—Donkey Kong—was open. She inserted a quarter and started playing with ease, her fingers moving expertly over the joystick. The sound effects and graphics of the game were a familiar comfort to her, and she was determined to keep her streak of beating the high score.
As she played, her score climbed higher and higher, effortlessly avoiding barrels and smashing obstacles with her hammer. She had always been crazy good at this game, and it showed. Finally, after some time, she beat the high score by thousands of points.
She then moved on to the next game, which was Space Invaders. She had never played this game before, but it was the only one she saw open. Still, Max had heard about it from others. The game was challenging, and the sound effects were intense. She managed to score a decent number of points, but she knew it wasn't enough to beat the high score.
Max continued playing more games, competitor numbers diminishing from exhaustion or hunger with each passing hour, but Max didn't have time for breaks. She continued moving from one game to another until she arrived at her previous Pac-man game.
Max looked up at the high score screen again and froze, her eyes bug-eyed. "Mad Max" had been bumped down to seventh place. Someone—multiple people—had beaten her score! Frustration crept up within her, an undeniable presence that clouded her thoughts as she tightened her jaw. She knew she could do better, so she inserted another quarter and hit start.
This time, she focused even harder, determined to beat the high score once and for all. Her fingers moved quickly over the joystick and buttons, and she barely blinked as she devoured pellets and avoided ghosts. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to beat the high score, still a few hours remaining.
Max pumped her fist, a burst of silent celebration coursing through her veins. As her triumphant scream erupted from within, she couldn't help but notice her neighbor's curious, startled gaze fixated on her, their eyes widening with intrigue.
After beating the high score in Pac-man for the second time, she moved on to other games, playing with focus, determined to at least get in the top 10 of each one this late in the game.
As she made her way to the Dig Dug machine, Max's eyes were drawn to the leaderboard. Her mouth fell. She couldn't believe it. She had been bumped down to third place on the Dig Dug machine by some dudes named Codex and Steelshot. A surge of frustration welled up within her.
Now I know how Dustin must have felt, she thought, but she refused to be discouraged. Without hesitation, she quickly inserted another quarter into the machine and aggressively pressed the start button, ready to reclaim her rightful place on the leaderboard.
"I can't let anyone beat me at my favorite game," she muttered to herself.
She maneuvered her character through the underground tunnels, defeating as many monsters as possible. The game's sound effects and catchy music filled her ears, and Max was completely absorbed in the game.
As the game went on, Max's score climbed higher and higher. She was determined not to make any mistakes—not to let any monsters catch her—and she focused harder than ever before. Her hand started to go numb again, but she ignored the pain and kept playing. The sun was long gone, the light from the screen illuminating her face.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Max looked at the high scores. Over 1 million points, the highest she's ever seen or gotten.
This time, Max couldn't control herself. Feeling triumphant once again, Max's fists shot up in the air as a victorious scream erupted from her belly. She looked around and saw that everyone was staring at her, but she didn't care. She had worked hard for this moment, and she was proud of herself.
This cycle continued, with Max moving from game to game and coming back to Pac-man to check the leaderboard. But every time she returned, she found herself pushed further down the list. Each time this happened, Max became increasingly frustrated and determined to beat her own high score.
The announcement speakers crackled. It was Hot Rod.
"Attention gamers! You have one hour left of your epic free for all. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock!"
But as the night wore on, Max found it increasingly difficult to maintain her focus. Her hand started to cramp, and her eyes grew tired. And despite her efforts, she couldn't beat the high scores on any of the other games. Too much exhaustion. Too little time.
Just as Max was about to insert another quarter into the Pac-man machine, the loudspeaker crackled to life again. "Attention all gamers," the speaker boomed. "It is now 10 o'clock, and your time. Is. Up! Please proceed to the party room on the second floor and wait for us to tally the results. Anyone found still playing will be disqualified!"
Max looked at her pockets, feeling a pang of disappointment. She only had one quarter left and hadn't managed to beat the high score in any of the other games. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should try to squeeze in one last game before the results were announced, but from what Hot Rod said, she knew that would be cheating. Besides, she was too exhausted to keep playing.
Max let out a sigh of resignation and made her way to the large party room on the left. Her feet felt heavy as she dragged them along the ground, her mind still reeling from the intense concentration she had exerted throughout the day. The intense light from the machines gave her a nasty headache.
When she arrived at the room, it was already crowded with other gamers waiting for the results. The number of participants was much, much smaller. She looked around, feeling a bit out of place among the players who had come to compete in the tournament. But she was too tired and hungry to care at this point.
Pizza sounds so good right now. Maybe I should get something to eat... She scoffed to herself. With what money?
Max found a spot against the wall and sat down, holding her backpack close as she closed her eyes. The hum of the arcade machines outside slowly faded away, and she felt her body finally starting to relax. The exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks. She couldn't help but let out a yawn.
As she sat there, waiting for the results to be announced, Max slowly drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of Pac-man and Donkey Kong, of Space Invaders, Dig-Dug, and all the other games she had played that night.
But eventually, her dream faded away, and Max jolted awake as the loudspeaker crackled to life once more.
How long have I been asleep? What time is it?
She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the sleep that still clung to her mind as she looked at the clock—10:55.
"The results are in," Hot Rod said, his voice echoing through the small room. He stood at the front, holding a card in his hand. "Once we call your name, come forward and collect your prize."
Hearing the announcer, Max's body tingled with nerves. She had worked hard all night, and she hoped that her efforts had paid off. And as Hot Rod began to read off the names of the winners, Max felt her heart beating faster and faster.
"In third place," he announced, "with an impressive, combined score of 1,405,947 points... AstroBoy!" There was a round of polite applause as a young boy with dirty blond hair, appearing to be a high school student, walked towards the front. He accepted his certificate and a Metallica and Next Level finalist t-shirt, a proud smile illuminating his face.
"And in second place with a score of 2,336,486 points…" Hot Rod pursed his lips. He looked up from the card, gazing from beneath his lids to give the crowd side-eyes. "…PlushTush."
Chuckles bounced along the large walls as another round of applause filled the room as a grinning boy—no older than Max—stepped forward to claim his prize.
"And in first place," Hot Rod said, pausing for dramatic effect.
Max held her breath as the announcer prepared to reveal the winner. She had worked so hard, and she hoped that it had all been enough to take home the top prize.
"With a score of—Wowzers!—3,600,427 points, eh…" he trailed off, squinting at the card.
Max felt her heart beating so fast she thought it might explode. She clenched her fists, waiting for the announcer to finish. Instead, he pulled the card away from his face and leaned back before bringing it close once again. After a moment, he looked to the side at the judges, who simply nodded.
"OK," Hot Rod said, clearing his throat. "Well um…this is certainly…unexpected. Rare, actually. Like finding a unicorn playing the bagpipes in a bubble bath rare. Hehe. But um… It's a tie."
Eyes widened, the crowd letting out surprised gasps as murmurs began to fill the room.
Hot Rod looked at the card again. "For first place with a score of 3,600,427 points on the dot…" he paused. " Congratulations Steelshot and… Mad Max!"
Max was stunned. She stood frozen for a moment, the words of the announcer echoing in her ears. Did she hear that right? Could it be true? Then, like a bolt of lightning, realization struck her. A wide smile spread across her face as she finally grasped what she'd heard—She had tied for first place! The magnitude of her achievement hit her like a tidal wave, filling her with an overwhelming sense of excitement. She couldn't believe it! All her hard work, dedication, and countless hours spent perfecting her skills had finally paid off.
But Max's excitement was short-lived when Hot Rod continued. "But unfortunately," he said, "we only have one set of Metallica concert tickets to give away. So, um…" He glanced at the judges again. "I guess…we'll just…come up with something. This has never happened before, so—"
One judge waved him over. He nodded. "Take a ten-minute break."
With that, he and the judges disappeared from the room. Murmurs erupted again, others deciding it was time to leave, but Max tuned them all out, wondering how they were planning on settling this. Of course, it would be through gaming, but what sort? Would it be something she knew? Would she have to beat another high score?
Just stay focused, Max, she thought. You haven't won this yet. But you're so close.
Ten minutes later, as promised, Hot Rod came back into the room. "Sorry for the wait. We have unanimously decided that Mad Max and Steelshot will have to compete against each other in a dual-player game."
As Hot Rod briefly explained the rules of "finals", Max tried to focus. The game was a two-player game, with no redos allowed. Max took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.
"Now, if the two finalists would come to the front."
Max swallowed. With a brief pause, she brushed past the gawking bystanders until she stood by Hot Rod's side.
Max scanned the room, searching for Steelshot. She needed to know who she was up against, and she wanted to size up her competition. After a few moments, Max spotted Steelshot approaching, the crowd parting like the sea.
A surge of adrenaline rushed through her as her opponent got closer. Steelshot was a punk-looking rocker girl, with short, spiked hair and a leather jacket and Metallica shirt. Oddly enough, she reminded her of Billy, or at least the female version of him. Still, Max tried to ignore her appearance and focus on the task at hand.
Hot Rod leaned in, whispering, "Which one of you is Steelshot, and which one is Mad Max?"
"Steelshot."
Max glanced at her opponent. She said her name so sternly, like it was a royal family name.
Hot Rod nodded, putting the mic back to his lips, gesturing between the two as he spoke. "Well, Steelshot…Mad Max…others…follow me."
With furrowed brows, the two trailed behind the host, the crowd not far behind. As they walked down the stairs, Max turned to Steelshot.
"Hey," she said, trying to sound friendly. "Congratulations on tying for first place."
Steelshot glared at Max, her eyes filled with a competitive, spiteful attitude. "Don't think you're gonna take this from me," she growled. "I'm not going to let anyone beat me, especially not some newbie kid like you."
Max bristled at the other girl's mean attitude. She knew that Steelshot was a fierce competitor—she beat her high score at Dig Dug for Christ's sake—but she didn't have to be so rude about it. "I'm not a newbie," Max said, trying to keep her voice steady. "And I'm not going to let anyone take this from me either."
Steelshot raised an eyebrow, looking at Max skeptically. "We'll see about that," she said with a smirk. "May the best player win."
Max gritted her teeth, feeling the tension between them. She knew that Steelshot was a formidable opponent, and she needed to stay focused if she wanted to come out on top. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.
"Good luck," Max said, her voice steady. "You're going to need it."
Just as Max finished speaking, Hot Rod hopped up on the stage. His voice boomed through the speakers. "Ladies and Gentleman, let's break this tie, with a game of Tron! Mad Max and Steelshot, please make your way to the stage!"
Max's heart sank. Tron? Sure, she was a fierce gamer who could master any game she wanted with her eyes shut, but Tron was a game she never really took a liking to. And because of that, she never really had a chance to master it, especially in a place like Hawkins.
She pursed her lips, feeling a tightness in her chest. She had worked so hard to tie for first place, and now she might lose the top prize to Steelshot in a single game.
No, she sternly thought. We don't have time for thoughts like that, Max. You've played it at least once, and once is enough. She took a deep breath. Let's trash this girl.
Max turned to Steelshot and nodded toward the stage. "Shall we?"
Steelshot sneered at Max and strode towards the stage, her confidence radiating off her in waves. Max followed closely behind, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.
"Give it up for our finalists!" Hot Rod shouted.
As Max and Steelshot arrived on stage, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. The bright lights overhead made it hard to see the faces in the crowd, but Max could feel their energy pulsing through the air. She looked up at the projection screen hovering over them, then at the machine in the center of the stage, an extension cord running into the back.
How the heck did they set all this up so fast? Max thought.
Hot Rod, with his booming voice, stepped forward and began explaining the rules. "Alright ladies, here's the deal. You'll be playing Tron. In Tron, each player controls a light cycle on the game board, and the objective is to force the opponent to crash into a wall or trail before they do. The players can move their light cycles in any direction, leaving a trail behind them that they must avoid while trying to outmaneuver their opponent. As time passes by and as you do certain maneuvers, your score will increase. If one of the participants dies, the other one can still continue until they also die. The player with the highest score wins. And as I said in the party room, there are no redos. Do you understand?"
Max and Steelshot nodded.
"Alright then. Please insert your quarters to start the game."
Max breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she hadn't wasted her last quarter earlier. But when she reached into her pocket to get it, a sinking feeling welded up in her stomach.
Where did my quarter go?
Max frantically patted her pockets. She unzipped her backpack and shuffled through it, then searched the area around her, hoping to find a lost coin, but to no avail. She then turned to the announcer with a worried expression. "I can't find my quarter."
Hot Rod sucked in a breath, giving an exaggerated hisssss through his teeth. Panic started to set in as his voice boomed over the speakers once again. "I'm sorry, Max, but I can't do anything about that. If you can't find a quarter within the next minute, you'll have to forfeit the game. Time is ticking, so I suggest you start looking—" he looked at his watch "—Now!"
Max's mind raced as she realized the gravity of the situation. She couldn't use her bus money to buy a quarter because she no longer had it. Even if she did, she'd be stranded without a ride home. She had to find another way.
She jumped off the stage and rushed straight to the crowd, holding out her hand to the first person she saw. "Can I please borrow a quarter?" she said, but the boy simply shrugged.
"All out."
She quickly went to the next person. Then the next. "Quarter? Quarter?"
Another older boy shook his head. "Used all of mine up in the first four hours."
Then why are you still here?! she wanted to shout. Instead, she frustratingly said, "So you're telling me none of you have a freaking quar—you know what, screw it."
Without a word, Max darted off towards the arcade games, scanning each one for a forgotten coin slot. She searched frantically, her eyes darting back and forth as the clock ticked down. She had less than a minute to find a quarter, or all her hard work would be for nothing.
Max's heart sank as she searched desperately for a stray coin, but time was running out. She only had 30 seconds left, and she knew that the pressure was mounting. She tried not to panic as she scanned the machines, looking for any sign of a forgotten quarter. Suddenly, she spotted one gleaming under a machine.
She lunged forward to grab it, but just as she was about to pick it up, she realized that the coin was stuck to the ground. Max cursed under her breath, angry at whoever had carelessly discarded their gum on the floor. She tugged and pulled at the coin, but it wouldn't budge. She was so close, yet so far.
Max gritted her teeth in frustration as she continued to struggle with the stuck coin. The seconds were ticking away, and she knew she had to act fast.
"Having trouble, Mad Max?!" Steelshot's voice broke through her concentration, her shout traveling across the room.
Max glared at her, feeling her anger boil. "Be much easier if you'd just shut up!" she snapped, tugging even harder at the coin.
"Come on, you only have 20 seconds left," Steelshot taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You better hurry up if you want to win."
Steelshot was right. Max didn't have time for this argument. She had to find another quarter and quickly. She ignored Steelshot and darted off towards the arcade machines, frantically searching for a stray coin.
Time was running out, and Max knew she had to act fast. She searched every nook and cranny, her heart pounding with adrenaline. Finally, she saw it—a quarter shining under a machine. She lunged forward, snatching it up, and sprinted back towards the tournament stage, clutching the precious quarter in her hand. Her legs burned with the effort, but she refused to give up now. She had come too far to let a missing coin stand in her way.
As she neared the stage, Max could hear the announcer counting down the seconds. "Ten… nine… eight…"
She pushed herself harder, her eyes fixed on the bright flashing lights of the stage. She could see Steelshot's smug expression from a distance, and it only fueled her determination.
"Seven… six… five…"
Max's breath came in short gasps as she closed in on the stage. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she couldn't let the pressure get to her.
"Four… three… two…"
Max's hand shook as she inserted the quarter into the machine's slot. She held her breath, waiting for the game to start.
"One!"
The machine sprang to life, and Max's heart leaped with joy. She had made it just in time. She quickly got into position and steeled her nerves, determined to win this game of Tron.
As the familiar opening scene of Tron began to play, Max's fingers tensed over the joystick, ready for the challenge ahead. The game started, and she focused intently on the screen, her eyes tracking the movements of the machine.
It was a good thing she was able to have a break earlier. Her eyes, legs, and fingers needed the rest for this challenge.
Max's blue light cycle glowed brightly on the screen as she maneuvered it around the board, leaving behind a trail of light. She avoided Steelshot's trail, carefully planning her moves to stay ahead of her player. The game was intense, and Max could feel her adrenaline pumping as she tried to outsmart her opponent.
As Max and Steelshot battled it out, the tension in the arcade room grew palpable. Suddenly, Steelshot opened her mouth, her voice carrying over the sounds of the game.
"Saw your name on a lot of the high scores," she said. Then smirked. "Saw a lot of them knocked down. Looks like you're losing your edge, Mad Max. Maybe this game's just too much for you," she sneered.
Max gritted her teeth, refusing to be distracted by Steelshot's words. She focused on the game, her movements becoming more deliberate and precise. Her light cycle darted around the board, leaving Steelshot's trail in the dust.
But Steelshot wasn't giving up that easily. She continued to hurl insults Max's way, trying to get under her skin.
Max gripped the joystick under the weight of her taunts. Despite Max's determination to remain focused, Steelshot's relentless words echoing in her brain were beginning to take their toll, chipping away at her composure.
She's using me and Dustin's damn strategy against me!
Max's hands trembled slightly as she tried to make her light cycle move just right. Every movement of her light cycle had to be precise, every decision calculated to perfection. The stakes were high, and the atmosphere crackled with an electric tension. With each passing second, Steelshot's voice seemed to amplify, growing louder and more intrusive, threatening to derail her concentration.
Shut her out, Max, she thought to herself. But it was easier said than done.
Just as Max was about to make a critical move, she hesitated for a split second, her mind momentarily clouded by Steelshot's taunts. It was all the opening Steelshot needed. She swooped in, her light cycle narrowly avoiding Max's trail and nearly causing Max to crash.
Max's heart skipped a beat as she realized how close she had come to losing the game.
Her fear grew, as she remembered the weight of the stakes. She had used the $20 Billy had given her as a thank-you for getting him out of trouble to play this game, and if she lost, it would all be for nothing.
Steelshot continued to taunt Max, trying to throw her off her game. "What does a little girl like you want with Metallica tickets anyway?" she sneered.
Max took a deep breath, trying to push Steelshot's words out of her mind. She knew that getting scared would only make her performance worse. Instead, she focused on the game, her movements becoming more deliberate and precise.
But Steelshot wasn't finished yet. "I bet you don't even know who Metallica is," she continued.
Max gritted her teeth, her frustration growing. She knew Steelshot was trying to get a rise out of her, but she refused to give her the satisfaction. "None of your business," Max replied, her voice steady. Her dad had always taught her not to show her hand, and she wasn't about to let Steelshot see her sweat.
As the game went on, Max's performance did improve from keeping calm, but it still wasn't as good as Steelshot's. Max could only see her own score, and only the announcer knew who was in the lead.
The game had been going on for the last 10 minutes, and as the game grew harder, Steelshot's skills became more formidable. Doubt bombarded Max's thoughts like a storm, casting a shadow over her determination. With each passing moment, she felt her chances of success dwindling, threatening to extinguish the flame of hope within her. Yet, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against her, a voice deep within urged her to keep pushing.
But then, in one fleeting moment—one brush of her character being nearly K. , it felt as if all hope was lost. The weight of the challenge seemed impossible, and doubt clawed at her determination. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she questioned whether she could truly overcome the seemingly impossible. Yet, even in that momentary lapse, one thought—one person—let a flicker of determination ignite…
Billy.
This was for Billy. For his radio… for her blunder… for their relationship… All of their progress—she wanted that to continue, wanted to move forward with him, to see that look of pure joy on his face when she gave him the tickets, the same look he had at the Palace Arcade.
I can't let him down. Not again.
Steelshot smirked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Is that the best you've got, Mad Max? I thought you were supposed to be a worthy opponent. Looks like you're just another helpless player in my game."
Max's frustration and anger towards Steelshot's maddening taunts finally reached a boiling point. She couldn't take it anymore. In a burst of determination, Max let her mouthiness loose, hurling insults back at Steelshot.
She was going to demolish her!
"You think you're the king of this game, Steelshot, but let me tell you something. Even though you look like a soldier from the Civil War with all those craters in your face, your years of playing don't mean a thing when I'm in the ring. I'll take you down without breaking a sweat, and I'll make sure you remember this defeat for years to come!" Max shouted, her voice resonating with a potent mix of anger, determination, and confidence.
Steelshot's face twisted into a scowl at Max's insults. "At least I'm not some preppy little princess who's never been to a real concert in her life!" she retorted.
Max couldn't help but smirk at Steelshot's weak comment. "Oh please, Steelshot, you look like a punk wannabe. Are you sure you're not in a tribute band for the Sex Pistols?" she shot back.
"Ooooo," the crowd jeered.
Hot Rod's voice boomed over the speakers, interrupting Max and Steelshot's exchange. "Ladies, let's focus on the game, shall we?" he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Looks like we've got some feisty ones here, don't we?"
Max took a deep breath and refocused on the game. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and her determination shone through. The crowd watched in awe as Max's skill suddenly improved, her movements becoming more fluid and precise. Bolder.
Max's instincts took over, and she felt like she could anticipate Steelshot's every move. The crowd was on their feet, cheering her on as she made one impressive move after another. Steelshot was struggling to keep up, and Max could tell that she was getting frustrated by her scrunched-up nose.
Finally, after a few more minutes of intense gameplay, Max made a bold maneuver. She thought she had Steelshot cornered, tangled within her walls, but Steelshot made a quick counter move that caught Max off guard.
In a split-second decision, Max made a risky move by veering towards an unexpected path, but it backfired. Her light cycle collided with Steelshot's, and a blinding explosion of sparks erupted, engulfing the screen in a mesmerizing display. The crowd gasped in unison as the fiery chaos unfolded as the two players were eliminated simultaneously.
For a moment, Max stared at the screen in silence, unable to believe what had just happened. She had been so close to winning, but now it was all over.
Max forced herself away from the game, stealing a glance at Steelshot, she looked just as stunned. As Max made her way down from the stage, Hot Rod called out to her. "Hold on there, Max! It's time to take a look at the score!" he said, gesturing for her to come back up.
Max's heart leapt in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she still had a chance to win. She climbed back up to the stage, and the announcer motioned for her and Steelshot to join him in the center.
"Alright, ladies, it's time to reveal the scores. Are you ready?" he asked, looking at both of them.
Max nodded, her heart racing. Steelshot looked calm and confident, but Max could tell from the sweat on her brow that she was feeling the pressure too.
Hot Rod turned to the large screen behind him and gestured for the crowd to quiet down. Max held her breath, almost afraid to look.
Her heart started to beat like a hummingbird's wings as she tried to prepare herself for the worst, unable to bear the weight of anticipation. The seconds felt like an eternity as she waited for the final scores to be displayed. The silence in the arcade seemed deafening, amplifying her nervousness. The numbers flickered and changed before finally settling on the final score.
For Steelshot—a score of 30,250 points. For Mad Max—
Max quickly looked away, a surge of fear suddenly rushing through her. She closed her eyes tightly, blocking the sight of the numbers that would determine her—Billy's—fate. With her heart pounding, she took a deep, shaky breath, hoping against hope for a good outcome. The uncertainty gripped her, but she steeled herself, ready to face whatever numbers awaited her.
And then she saw it.
Max's lip trembled, steeling into a hard line as she burned the score into her retinas, tears welling up in her eyes. She had to take a second look to make sure she wasn't mistaken.
Mad Max—30,350 points. 100 points more than Steelshots.
Max stood frozen in disbelief at the sight before her, her eyes glossy with tears. "Holy shit," she whispered, her words breathless. I won. Holy shit… I won.
To be continued…