When Vicari Nimis walked into his first and last Gamemakers, he was expecting violence. Something like a massive, towering hybrid-monster from his nightmares, or an obstacle course of spikes and saws that would take who-knows-how-long to weave through. Instead, he was faced with a hallway. Every single cereal-box maze he’d ever attempted flitted through his mind. He remembered his younger self, gripping a pencil until it snapped in half because //this STUPID Froot Loops maze has NO exit, I SWEAR–// “It’s not really that hard,” his older sister, Onyx, had murmured in disapproval. And of /course/ she had solved it in less than sixty seconds. //But she /totally/ only solved it ‘cause she looked at the key under the box,// his six-year-old self had reasoned contemptuously. (She hadn’t.) For the record, Sam the Toucan still haunted his dreams. [ Seriously? A cereal box mascot? ] Vicari jumped at the sudden voice in his head. “Jeez, Agate,” he whispered at the chunk of metal on his wrist. “No need to be so mean.” The silver bracelet on his wrist, more than just an accessory, was the source of Vicari’s daily strife. //Stupid bracelet possessed by a stupid ghosty guy and I can’t take it off it’s so stupid–// [ For the last time, I am NOT a ghost, ] Agate urged. The annoyed edge to his voice brought a smirk to Vicari’s face. His eyes belatedly darted to the nearest security camera. //Ah… should probably talk to him in my head,// he thought. He could practically– no, literally– hear Agate’s sigh of disappointment. After the first few turns of the maze, Vicari’s dreams came true. “FINALLY, SOME GOSH-DARN VIOLENCE,” he exclaimed. A series of twisted iron beams, somewhat akin to a bunch of coat hangers combined together, served as a display rack for the most glorious set of weapons Vicari had ever seen in his entire life. //Do the Gamemakers let you take souvenirs…?// He pulled every single blade off of the tray, leaving only the weapon-holding framework behind. “Carry this for me, will ya?” he hissed, chucking the weapons rack at Agate. The loud clattering of iron against tile gave him flashbacks of every time he’d ever dropped a metal water bottle on the floor. //…Oops.// He squeezed his eyes shut, not even wanting to see Agate’s disparaging squint. [ Stop talking out loud, ] Agate groaned. [ The judges are going to think you’re insane. ] //Correction: the judges are going to /realize/ I’m insane,// he confessed mentally. Rolling his eyes, he hauled the weapons tray onto his back, grunting from the weight. //Why couldn’t I have a sidekick like Mushu or Flounder,// he lamented with a grimace. [ I can hear your thoughts, y’know. ] //Exactly.// Turning the corner, Vicari resorted to just hauling the rack against the floor. The screech of its sturdy frame against ceramic made him cringe. A row of lights flashed pink and green. Beams of light leapt up from the hologram spawners dotting the floor. “Oh no.” [ Okay, here we go, ] Agate cut in. [ We’ve trained for this very moment. What you’re gonna do is look for the holograms’ weakness: any area that’s not armored, any pattern in their moves that you can take advantage of, maybe even if you— ] A cacophony of rattling metal cut him off. Flickering sparks filled the hallway. Admiring the chaos, not even bothering to hide the manic grin on his face, Vicari neatly tucked his paws together. The once-intricate weapons rack had been chucked at the holograph mechanism and was now splintered to pieces, gears and beams rolling over the hologram-spawning boxes. The boxes that were now dented, broken, and… [ Is that SMOKE? ] …And decisively on fire. [ Vicari Nimis, this is EXACTLY what you are NOT supposed to do when you’re in front of CAMERAS trying to impress the CAPITOL and the cats who are, oh, I dunno, IN CHARGE OF WHETHER OR NOT YOU LIVE OR DIE. ] Vicari wafted in the smell of burning metal. “Mmm, someone should make this into a candle scent.” Agate looked like he wanted to die. (Or… despawn? Disintegrate? Vicari wasn’t exactly sure what Agate even /was/. The mysterious shadow figure had tried to explain it once, but Vicari may or may not have zoned out. All he knew was that first, Agate was as far from kindhearted as anyone could possibly be; second, Calpurna seemed like the kind of cat Vicari would get along with; and third, Kanzite was really, really, /really/ bad at picking his friends.) [ Vicari. ] Agate dramatically waved his arms in Vicari’s face. [ Vicari. ] //Yes, O Great and Powerful Agate?// [ You idiot, ] he hissed through clenched teeth, [ your precious /fire/ just blocked off our path to the exit. ] The smile slid clean off of Vicari’s face. “Wait… huh?” Agate reached over and slapped Vicari in the head. Well, through the head, seeing as he was just a figment of Vicari’s imagination. (//It’s kind of funny actually,// he noted, and Agate replied with a very irritated [ No it is NOT. ])
[ Well, what are you gonna do about it? ] Vicari hesitated briefly. The beloved arsenal of weapons he’d been eyeing earlier was now charred, and the only things still semi-intact were the poles that had once composed the weapons frame. Briefly, Vicari’s mind darted back to that stupid freaking Froot Loops box. He remembered that, after hours and hours agonizing over those answerless puzzles, it was much easier to grab the nearest Sharpie and draw a line straight through the walls. (“That’s cheating!” his sister Louche would exclaim. His response: “But that’s what makes it /fun/.”) Grasping a sturdy pole, Vicari summoned all of his strength. Where other people found strength in family and bravery, Vicari found his in anger. He thought of every time Dipping Dots was out of cookies and cream, his favorite flavor; every time he got dress-coded at school for wearing clothes with “uncouth language”; every time the cool pigeons in the streets would abandon him, even though he was /cleary/ wielding a slice of bread as a peace offering. Scrunching his nose up in concentration, Vicari charged at the wall to his right. The sturdy wall crumbled, and he kept pushing with all of his might until nothing was left but a gaping hole to the other side. A Gamemakers official stood frozen at the exit, jaw agape at Vicari’s destructive methods. [ Well, that strategy was… unorthodox. ] Rolling his eyes, Vicari waltzed away from the flames. “Sorry about the mess,” he commented half heartedly, not meaning it whatsoever.
