“The defense team for Colonel Wieler was dealt an unexpected blow today when prosecution produced a surprise witness… an Amarr slave trader claiming to have been under the employ of the Colonel for the past two years. Philip Wessam, of the Khanid bloodline produced financial records detailing his business relationship with Colonel Wieler, attributing over 90% of the capsuleer’s income to Wessam’s prowess in the slave trade. Defence was granted a day’s recess to investigate the claims and form a response. This has been a Scope News exclusive.”

—

Another day spent rotting, I thought to myself. It was really starting to eat away at me. But I supposed all this time alone was proving to be a good thing. It was giving me a clarity about my life, an insight towards those that had called me “friend”, and a gnawing feeling in the pit of my bowels that this entire scenario wasn’t happenstance. There were too many coincidences and unanswered questions.

It was almost as though someone else was controlling my life, manipulating me at their whim, turning my life upside down for their own amusement. That didn’t sit well with me at all.

I didn’t like the idea of not being in control of my own destiny.

It reminded me of that time when…

—

“You sure about this place, Sam?” I asked, looking at the DNB, a large restaurant/pub/entertainment facility. PyjamaSam was far more interested in video games and foozball than me; I’d rather be at the strippers.

“Yup, this is the place. C’mon!” he said, already walking towards the arcade.

We hadn’t known each other that long, but Sam was quickly becoming one of my closest friends. He was brilliant beyond measure, easily the most intelligent person I knew, but didn’t carry himself with an ounce of arrogance. He was sincere, almost to a fault, but it make him incredibly likeable, despite his geeky quirks.

I followed him into the massive arcade, my eyes following the arching ceiling twenty five feet above. The entire place was sensory overload: flashing lights, competing volume from every machine, other sorts of eye candy wandering by; maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Sam motioned me towards a racing game, and I reluctantly played. Wasn’t really my thing, nor were the ghostbusting game, the guess the timing and win tickets game, or the several other ‘girly’ games he seemed inclined to play. Finally I saw a fun game, shooting bison with a shotgun. I mean, c’mon, how much more fun could one guy have? Turns out, after playing several different shooting games, that all the sights on the guns were off, undoubtedly with purpose to get the masses to spend more of their hard earned gaming cash. I wagered they weren’t used to someone who could compensate with ease thanks to my military training.

The arcade seemed to be getting louder, and I noticed a group of large Amarr around a game I couldn’t quite make out. This particular establishment was very multicultural, even though I was somewhat of a racist, well at least towards the slave pigs.

I grabbed Sam and out of curiousity more than anything else, headed towards the Amarrians.

They seemed somewhat young, but were all quite large, though clothed in what could only be described as “Techno Viking” gear. It was a horrible mishmash of style, meant to impress or intimidate I wasn’t sure. Pushing my way closer, I could see they were playing some kind of synchronized dancing game, where loud, feminine music blared from the speakers while arrows fell down the screen. The idea was to place your foot on the appropriate directional pad as indicated by the descending arrow, on rythmn; seemed simple enough. The two giants playing it now seemed to have the mechanics of it down, but lacked style or grace.

I chuckled at the two playing the game. They were obviously alpha male wannabes, overcompensating through dancing prowess? It sounded ridiculous to me too, but here we were, surrounded by Amarr, whom were cheering on their mates in some type of techno-ritualistic frenzy. It was all so very funny. And so very gay.

I turned to Sam and said “What a couple of fags.” Sam looked confused, putting his hand up to his ear, indicating he hadn’t heard me. I repeated myself more loudly, “WHAT A COUPLE OF FAGS!” I said.

Now, as luck would have it, I said “What a” before the gay dancing game abruptly stopped, leaving me yelling “A couple of fags” at the top of my lungs.

Sam went pale white. I could only think oh shit.

The larger of the two Amarr youth drilled his gaze fully into me, the rest of the gang separating to allow him direct access to me.

“You think you can do better, Matari?” he growled in my face. I was so ready to throw down with this goon, and any of his friends that decided they wanted a piece of the action.

I was preparing my sarcastic and witty response when I glanced at Sam, whom had a pleading look on his face. Then I remembered, this night was about him, not me. This was one of his favourite places he had brought me to, as his friend, and here I was doing what I always seemed to do, making things worse than they really needed to be.

I took a deep breath, and replied to the techno viking, “Actually, I know it. Move aside junior.”

To my amazement, they did, cheering at the challenge issued. Sam joined me at the game.

How hard could it be? I mean I’d done countless coordination exercises in my lifetime; how hard would it be to get my feet to move in rythmn to the music indicated by the arrows?

The techno viking moved up beside the machine. “Hope you’re ready to get your asses whupped by real men.” he said, selecting a track that was 192 bpm.

Now I’m not much of a dancer, and I don’t really enjoy this kind of music, but I’d be damned if I was going to ruin this night for Sam or let some punk ass Amarr kids best me.

I put myself into the right frame of mind, allowing the music to take control, filling my mind and body with energy and excitement, and as the first arrows began to descend down the screen, Sam and I nailed it with flair, using our arms and hips in addition to our feet.

We were graceful. We were in sync. We were one with the music. We were … missing almost every step.

Within twenty seconds our round was cut short, the game informing us of our epic fail. The Amarr youth surrounding us laughed hystercially at us, the sweat pouring down our bodies. We weren’t made for this shit.

Sam was the one who actually spoke up, anger in his voice. “Yeah, cheap play putting it on 192 hard. I doubt you guys could even do that.”

The gauntlet had been thrown down.

Techno viking obviously didn’t back down from a challenge. “I accept.” he said, pushing his finger into Sam’s chest, the rest of his gang closing the circle around us.

Things were getting tense.

Techno viking and his “partner” took to the game’s platform and selected the exact same track we did.

The music ramped up, the arrows began their flurry of activity, and the two Amarr were fluid beauty. They didn’t miss a single step. Moreso, they were performing flourishes, turning their backs to the machines, using their hands as well as their feet, and generally just kicking our asses at the game.

The gang began clapping on beat, chanting “Go! Go! Go!” with the rythmn.

As the track progressed, Sam and I knew we’d lost, and more than likely were going to get our asses kicked by the gang of Amarr.

Being Minmatar, we did the only logical thing we could think of:

While they were distracted, we ran like hell.

—

I smiled, a rare commodity recently. I hoped I would see my friend again. I hoped for many things, and for the first time in my life, was unsure of anything.