The final bridge mocked me. Or rather, the gaggle of boys guarding it did.
Each day, I donned my VR headset at odd hours, hoping they wouldn’t be there. The game muted their slurs, but I read lips.
I got to work, coding my Hail Mary.
The day I finished, I faced the bridge, confidence rolling off me. They stared, mouths agape.
“Clip clop, mother—” the System’s censor muted the stream, and I activated my code.
They never heard them coming.
Three giant robotic goats charged the trolls, battering their avatars. I strolled through, showered in the pixels of my foes.
Nice! I loved “showered in the pixels of my foes.”
This was great! Loved it…