First Player/Miles Benedict and the Hour of Power

Critical Hit! Arcade
Yesterday

"Hah! Eat it, kid. Now pay up." Miles leafed through the few bills the kid he destroyed in Killer Instinct had just handed over. "Better luck next time."

Miles Benedict
Age: 22
Lovable Swindler

He left the floor of the arcade to listlessly slump against the main counter. Various prizes were displayed inside it and hung along the wall behind it.

"Miles Benedict - Stealing Money From Metropolis Youths Since 1987."

Montana Moone
Age: 29
Manager of Critical Hit! Arcade

"Hey. He knew the risks going in."

"He was ten years old."

"His mother shouldn't have given him all that money in the first place then. Besides. He'd probably waste it all over there on pinball or something, anyways."

"So technically, you're stealing my money too. That's not very... what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Yeah, thanks. That's not very responsible."

"Oh boo-hoo." Miles turned away from Monty, elbows resting on the counter. "Why's the place so empty today?"

Monty glanced up from the magazine he was reading and scanned the arcade, "No idea. Probably because you took all their money."

"It's not my fault everyone else sucks. That's not even- Uh oh. Looks like you've got an unhappy customer."

A pimply-faced angry teen was fast approaching. Miles hopped over the counter and moved to Monty's side while Monty straightened up as the teen angrily slammed an action figure down on the counter. A generic-looking ninja whose arm had been torn off at the shoulder. So much for the karate chop and kung-fu grip.

"What the hell's this, dude?!"

"That, I believe, is a ninja."

The kid waved the dismembered arm in Monty's face, brandishing the poor ninja in his other hand.

"So much for the karate chop and kung-fu grip."

Miles snickered. The teen shot him an angry look before turning back to Monty.

"You sold me a broken toy, man."

"That toy wasn't broken when I gave it to you. You want another? Win more tickets. Besides, what're you, like fifteen? Aren't you're a little old to be playing with action figures."

"It's for my ten-year-old brother! Some asshole took all his money and he ran out crying."

Miles coughed and looked away.

"Lemme talk to your manager."

Monty shrugged and left, shambling into the back room. He returned about a minute and a half later.

"He says we can't refund douchewads."

"Screw you, hippie!" The kid threw the action figure at Monty before storming out the door.

Monty sighed and looked over to Miles. "Screw me? I hope a zombie rapes that kid or something."

"Now who's immature? Whatever happened to the customer is always right?"

"Not in this establishment."

"He had a point though. You should really cut your hair. Hippie."

Monty glared at him before removing a hair tie around from around his wrist and pulling his shoulder-length brown hair into a ponytail. Just then, the window at the front of the arcade shattered, thousands of tiny shards of glass cascading inwards. The few remaining kids in the building scrambled outside and away from the arcade.

"MILES BENEDICT!" A nasally voice shouted from outside and down the street. "I know you're in there!"

Monty leaned over the counter to try and see out the window. No such luck. "Seriously? This guy again? I just replaced that window last month."

"I'll take care of it." Miles held up a hand before rushing out the back door of the arcade.

Montana, how about a little exposition?

"Right. So Miles is a superhero. Or what passes for one anyways. The guy who trashed the window? That's the Griefer, his archnemesis. He usually shows up at least once a month to... well, to grief Miles. He's not much more than an annoyance."

*sounds of energy blasts and general ass-kickery*

"I'm not sure who he really is or anything. But he knows Miles and he doesn't seem too fond of him. Maybe he slept with his girlfriend or something."

Fun Fact: He didn't.

"Well, alright. I dunno! I'm just guessing here."

"Health down to 30%!"
"Ow!"
"HEY, GET BACK HERE!"

"Maybe he ran over his dog..."

Nope. Not it.

"Well whatever. I don't care."

"Who are you talking to?" Miles had emerged from the storage room.

"What? You let him get away?"

"How about you become a superhero and then I can judge you everytime you take on some nerd with delusions of grandeur."

"Wait, how'd you even fight him? He wears like superarmor or something, right?"

Miles pointed a thumb over his shoulder "I might of kept some of my gear here."

"This is not your Batcave, guy! It's bad enough he knows you hang out here. You know how much it costs to fix this place everytime he trashes it?"

"Too much?" He'd heard this speech before.

"That's right, too much."

Miles moved behind the counter, slumping forward on it beside Monty once again. Monty went back to flipping through his magazine. Miles glanced around for a moment before he sniffed the air and looked back to Monty.

"Did you just fart?"

Miles crouched down and to his left to grab a broom, leaving his place behind the counter and making his way over to the shattered window. "I should put a bell on that kid or something... Pain in my ass." He muttered under his breath, leaning forward to brush glass from the window sill inside. Miles poked his head outside the window for a moment. "I spy an Ivy."

Ivy Wright made her way down the sidewalk headed towards Critical Hit. And she didn't look happy. She blew a stray lock of hair out of her eyes as she stomped forward. Miles withdrew his head from the recklessly-opened window and turned to Monty. "A new challenger approaches!"

Monty stopped what he was doing (Nothing really) and glanced upward. His eyes went wide "...Ivy?"

"What'd you do this time?"

"It's a long story. How far?"

"Ehhh. You've got three seconds maybe."

With cartoonish speed, Monty sprinted into the small backroom of the arcade and slammed the door just as Ivy opened the front one. Even with his head out the window, she didn't noticed Miles until she crossed the threshold.

Miles shot her an up-nod, "W'sup Ivy. How you livin'?"

"Kinda' pissed."

Ivy Wright
Age: 27
Status: Kinda' Pissed.

If there's one word to describe Ivy Wright it's 'offbeat'. Always dressed in something bright and loud. Polka-dots are a favorite of hers. Today she wore her wavy black hair down, with a bright blue blouse and a conservative black-and-white polka-dotted poodle skirt. "Where is he?"

As if he could hear Miles' pointing, Monty shouted from the backroom, "JUDAS!" Ivy set her purple purse on the counter and charged through the arcade, shoving random ten-year-olds out of her path. Miles was pretty sure he heard something being thrown too. He casually swept the rest of the shards of glass into a corner of the arcade but left them there. Monty didn't pay him after all.

Across Town...

"Enough is enough!" He shouted to no one in particular. He'd only attacked First Player more than a paragraph ago but he was anxious to try again. "You'll pay for what you did to me, Miles Benedict!" He took a break from ranting and took a short walk around the block of his apartment building, lost 5 HP when a car bumped into him when the light was still red and finally went back home. He forgot why he left in the first place and went for a walk that literally went no where important. He also looked up the name of the man who owned the car that almost hit him. He'd pay for it eventually.

The Next Paragraph

Ivy and Monty had emerged from the backroom. Miles shot Monty a 'What was that all about' look, which he waved away. Ivy seemed calm again. Peppy, even. She hopped up onto the front counter and looked around, "Hey, why is it so empty in here today?"

"Miles keeps cheating kids out of their lunch money." Monty shrugged, returning to his post behind the counter and next to Ivy. He flipped open his gossip magazine and went into reading mode. Miles scoffed, "It's not their lunch money if they don't plan to spend it on lunch. Also, I resent that."

Ivy's cellphone chirped and she pulled it from her purse. "Hey, that Cheater guy is texting me. I wonder how he got my number."

"Deus ex machina, I bet." Monty mumbled.

Ivy grinned as Miles shuffled into the backroom. "Try not to break any windows this time!"

"Try not to break any windows this time..." Miles mimicked her under his breath. "Game time." he muttered to himself as he exited the building.

"Is that your girlfriend?"

Miles spun, only a second too late as an energy blast lifted him off his feet. He flew backwards into a dumpster, landing in a puddle of what he hoped was only rainwater. "She's cute."

"What a cheap shot." He groaned, craning his neck upwards to face his attacker. "Griefer."

His arch-nemesis stood triumphantly, fists propped on his hips with a shit-eating grin spread across his features. His navy green helmet and visor hid the top half of his face, conveniently concealing his identity. Miles hated that. "No, no. THE Griefer. You have to say the whole thing."

"In an alley though? Seriously?"

"What? It's a good a place as any for a grudge match." He reasoned, glancing around. Miles seized the opportunity and hopped up, lightning fast, and countered with a superpowered shot to his solar plexus. He followed it up with an energy blast of his own, the familiar hum of his powergloves powering up before firing a bolt of neon green energy at his foe. "HADOUKEN!"

The Griefer was thrown backwards into the brick wall of the adjacent building, a few bricks crumbling in response. His high-tech suit of armor protected him for the most part as he recovered brushing himself off.

Perspective Switch!

"So there's this new sushi place downtown. I thought we could stop by later?" Monty questioned without taking his eyes off his magazine.

"Yeah, yeah." Ivy nodded, ruffling Monty's hair. "Sounds good to-"

Ivy yelped as Miles was thrown through one of the remaining glass windows near the entrance of the arcade. He slid on his backside, skidding to a stop at Ivy's feet. He looked up at Monty and groaned, "Don't worry, I'll pay for this one too." he sighed, arching his back and rubbing his neck before turning to look up at Ivy, "And I didn't break the first one, thank you very much."