The soda stain on the floor of Tom's Café had barely dried when the Thunderclap team reconvened the next morning—well, most of them. Lena was 45 minutes late, bursting through the door with a backpack stuffed with energy drinks, a neon pink baseball cap, and a half-eaten burrito that she nearly dropped on Marcus's laptop.
"Sorry, sorry!" she yelled, sliding into her chair. "My bike got a flat tire. And then I stopped for burritos. Priorities, right?" She took a huge bite, sauce dripping down her chin. "So, when's the tournament again? Tomorrow? The day after? I forgot to write it down."
Olivia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She'd arrived an hour early, wearing a crisp new Nova Arena defender jersey, her controller neatly wrapped in a cloth. "It's this Saturday. Two days from now. And if you keep showing up late, eating messy burritos, and spilling soda on our equipment, we're gonna lose before we even step foot in the gaming center."
"Relax, Olivia," Lena said, waving her hand dismissively. "I've got this. I practiced last night—beat 10 bot matches in a row. Without dying once. Okay, fine, I died twice. But still! Progress!"
Jesse, who was already hunched over his PC, twiddling his thumbs nervously, looked up. "I practiced too. For three hours. But I had a panic attack halfway through. My mom made me drink chamomile tea. It tasted like grass. But it helped… maybe. Also, I bought new mouse pads. They're blue. Blue is calming. Or so I read online." He held up a neon blue mouse pad, his hands still shaking slightly.
Marcus pushed his glasses up, glancing at his phone. "I finished my lab report. Finally. But now I have a quiz on Friday. Which is the day before the tournament? So I can only practice for two hours today. And I need to study during breaks. And no one can yell. Loud noises make it hard for me to focus. And—"
"We get it, Marcus," Elias said, setting down his coffee. He'd arrived early too, his wrist wrapped in a thin bandage—old Tom had dug it out of his first-aid kit, muttering something about "kids these days not taking care of themselves." "We'll work around your schedule. And Lena? No more burritos near the equipment. Jesse? Chamomile tea is fine, but you don't need three mouse pads. Olivia? Stop stressing—we're not gonna win the tournament by yelling at each other."
Olivia crossed her arms, but she didn't argue. "I'm not stressing. I'm preparing. There's a difference. We're up against the Blaze Boys first—they're an amateur team, but they're tough. They specialize in fast attacks, just like Lena. Except they don't charge in like headless chickens. Usually."
Lena gasped, pretending to be offended. "Hey! I'm not a headless chicken! I'm a strategic assault player. Strategic. Look it up." She pulled out her phone, typed for two seconds, then frowned. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm a little chaotic. But chaos is my superpower! And it'll work. Trust me."
Elias smiled, opening the game client. "Let's get to work. Today's focus: teamwork. No more solo charges, Lena. Jesse, you'll practice holding positions under pressure—I'll have Marcus set up fake enemy bots to test you. Olivia, you'll coordinate with Marcus to set up defenses that can handle fast attacks. And Marcus? You'll practice multitasking—healing Jesse, setting traps, and keeping an eye on the map. Got it?"
Everyone nodded, and the practice began. It was still messy—but less messy than the first day. Lena still charged in too fast, but she'd started waiting for Jesse to take down one enemy before rushing in. Jesse still got nervous, but he didn't freeze up when the fake bots attacked—though he did knock over his chamomile tea once (luckily, it was in a plastic cup, so no keyboard damage this time).
"Jesse! Left! There's a bot behind you!" Marcus yelled, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He'd set up a health pack just in time, and Jesse dived for it, narrowly avoiding a bullet. "Good! Now aim—steady!"
Jesse took a deep breath, his eyes locked on the screen. He aimed his sniper rifle, his hand still shaking a little, and pulled the trigger. Headshot. "Yes! Another one! Did you see that, Olivia? I didn't panic!"
Olivia, who was busy setting up a turret, glanced over. She twitched into a small smile. "Yeah. Good job. Now stop talking and focus—there's another bot coming from the right."
Lena, who'd been waiting for her moment, charged in, firing her assault rifle. "COME GET SOME! I'm the Flash! Fear me!" She took down two bots in quick succession, then spun around, grinning. "See? Strategic chaos! Works every time!"
"You almost got killed three times," Elias said, but he was smiling. "But yes. Better. Keep it up."
The practice went on for hours. Marcus snuck in some study time during breaks, quizzing himself on medical terms while Jesse drank chamomile tea and Olivia cleaned her controller. Lena tried to convince everyone to let her pick the tournament snacks (she wanted candy and energy drinks; Olivia wanted protein bars; Marcus wanted fruit; Jesse wanted cookies—they ended up agreeing to get all of it).
By the end of the day, they were tired—eyes red, fingers sore, voices hoarse—but they felt good. They'd won five out of seven practice matches, and even Olivia had to admit that they were starting to look like a real team.
"We're gonna do okay," Marcus said, closing his laptop. He looked less nervous than usual, with a small smile on his face. "I think as long as I don't fail my quiz on Friday. And as long as Lena doesn't eat all the candy before the tournament. And as long as Jesse doesn't spill anything on his keyboard."
"Hey! I won't eat all the candy!" Lena protested, shoving a gummy bear into her mouth. "Maybe most of it. But not all. For the team."
Jesse held up his blue mouse pad. "I won't spill anything. I promise. I even brought a towel. Just in case." He pulled a small blue towel out of his backpack, looking proud.
Olivia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Let's just hope we don't embarrass ourselves. The Blaze Boys are good, but we're better. As long as we don't act like idiots."
Elias stood up, stretching his arms. His wrist ached a little, but it was worth it. He looked at his team—Lena grinning, covered in gummy bear crumbs; Jesse holding his blue mouse pad and towel; Marcus with his study notes open on the table; Olivia pretending to be annoyed but clearly proud—and felt a warmth he hadn't felt in years.
"We won't embarrass ourselves," he said. "We're the Thunderclap. Messy. Chaotic. A little bit crazy. But we're a team. And that's better than any perfect, polished team out there. Now go home, rest. Tomorrow, we practice one more time. Saturday? We win."
"WIN!" Lena yelled, jumping up and down. "THUNDERCLAP FOREVER! AND NEON PINK SNIPER RIFLE!"
Jesse joined in, cheering. Marcus smiled, nodding. Olivia sighed, but she raised her fist in the air. "Win."
Old Tom, who'd been listening from behind the counter, chuckled, taking a drag on his cigar. "Kids. Gonna be the death of me. But good kids. Real good."
As they left the café, the sun was setting, painting the sky orange and pink. Lena was singing off-key again, Jesse was talking about his blue mouse pad, Marcus was reviewing his notes, and Olivia was pretending to be annoyed by all of it. Elias walked behind them, a faint smile on his face.
They were messy. They were chaotic. They were far from perfect. But they were his team. And for the first time in three years, Elias Thorn wasn't just the Ghost—the fallen legend. He was Elias, part of something bigger. And he couldn't wait for Saturday.