Episode 83: The 2023 Platform Exhibition Final — Youngest and Oldest vs. Sprout Patrol

"Oh—is it coming out?"

"Oh, there it is! Eunha's Operator!"

"A lot of the analysis said Kwitch's perfect scrim record came down to that Operator of Eunha's, but the truth is she never really got a chance to show it."

Against NPT she had been on Yoru. Against KKT, Raze. The match with AFS had been canceled outright. Neither Yoru nor Raze was an agent built to live on the Operator, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Eunha had never taken it out, and the audience's anticipation had done nothing but pile up. Now she finally had it in her hands—and in the final, no less. Of course the viewers were going to lose their minds.

There is a saying in Project A. The best way to deal with an Operator is not to fight where the Operator is standing. Sprout Patrol, though, was walking straight toward exactly where Eunha was.

"Ah—they're going to meet her head-on?"

"All five of them are stacked, so it looks like another rush... and with an Operator, if she whiffs even once, Eunha's in real danger too."

The Operator's gift is that a single body shot can take someone out. Miss that one shot, and it becomes more helpless than anything else on the buy menu. There is a reason the pro scene trusts it to only two agents: Chamber, who can Rendezvous to a new angle, and Jett, who can Tailwind out of a bad spot.

Even an ace who trusts her aim is still human, and humans miss. From the broadcast, Eunha's forward position looked a little too thin. Either she would die for nothing and hand the Operator over, or the superplay from round three would happen all over again. Every eye was locked on A Main when the buy timer ran out, and then—

tat-tat-tat-tat-tat

"They're running! Sprout Patrol! Rush, rush, another rush!"

Sprout Patrol's agents tore through A Main toward site, and Eunha shifted her weight, one small step at a time. And then—

CRACK!

The Operator's report rolled down A Main.

I had died the round before and lost my gun, so I had to buy, and two choices sat in front of me.

"They're probably eco. Buy the Op right away?" Nebula asked.

A rifle. Or the Operator.

"Yeah."

Of course I took the second one.

The Operator. In Project A, a game where missing the head means you lose, this sniper is a monster that drops someone with a single body shot at any range, and when a defense is holding a site it is the piece everything else hangs on. One player can lock an entire lane. That is how absurd it is. There is a reason the players who are good with it are famous, every last one of them: a great Operator lifts the level of the whole team. You hand it to the best aimer you have. On KZ, and here on Kwitch, that player was me.

"Finally showing it?" Zzangdol said.

"People really have been waiting on your Op, Eunha," Oldboy said.

"We did keep it in our pocket too long," Nebula said.

"Ahaha..."

Back when I was still a Project A pro, the Operator had actually been one of my worst weaknesses. I whiffed it whenever it mattered, and people buried me for it, telling me to stop picking the thing up. It wasn't that I had never been able to use it. Early in my debut I had even made a name as an Operator prospect. So when, exactly, had it turned into the hole in my game?

Right. It was from then.

"Ah, Yaye swings again!"

"He's going toward Galaxy—can Galaxy take him?"

CRACK!

"And if he whiffs here—!"

Bang!

"Ah! What a brutal mistake!"

Maybe that instant became the trauma. In every tournament after it, the moment I picked up an Operator I whiffed until it was pathetic. I couldn't hand the gun to anyone else, either. I was the best Jett on the team. So the roster did what you do when the mustard is already in your mouth: they choked it down and left the Operator on the player who kept missing. Honestly, I think those whiffs were a real part of why we never won an international title. I ate an absurd amount of hate for it.

Well. Ancient history. It was gone now, so there was no point worrying over it.

Streamer event or not, a tournament is still a tournament. No wonder the old days were climbing back up my throat.

Focus. What I have to do right now is not sit here blaming myself for something that's already dead. Aim. Shoot. Take them. That is all.

"They might rush again, so stay sharp," Nebula said.

"Yep," Pola said.

They would probably save and play the eco, but I couldn't treat that as fact. They might buy something like a Spectre, the gun that dumps all its damage up close, and force the round.

On Ascent, mid is the map, so planting the Operator there would have been the textbook setup. This game could not be read out of a textbook. They had been playing off-script the entire series.

Spax had already said AFS didn't like the mid rush, so I took the Operator and started for A Main.

tat-tat-tat-tat-tak

Footsteps, the instant the round began. Another A-site rush?

I didn't know why they were so married to it, but for me it was the better world. An Operator is at its best when you are simply waiting for them to walk into you. That is why the real answer to one is to hit the site where it isn't standing. The gun is most fragile on the retake of a site that has already fallen.

beep-beep! thunk-thunk-thunk!

Killjoy's turret in A Main woke up. Enemies on the lane. I hardly needed the turret. The footsteps were loud enough on their own.

"A Main! Lots of steps!" Oldboy called.

bang-bang!

Gunfire chewed the turret apart, and with it I could read at least part of their buy. Some of them, at least, had purchased Sheriffs.

"Eunha, you can fall off. Don't force it," Nebula said.

Even if we gave up the site, their guns were pathetic next to ours. The retake would be easy.

"No. I'll take this one."

If they planted, though, they would be paid for it, and I wasn't willing to allow even that. I had already played up once. They would be watching for another push. Walk out and peek, and there would be a hole in my head. I was on light shields. A Sheriff to the skull from outside fifteen meters would still kill me outright. I knew the risk, and I peeked anyway.

A-key to the left, and crouch—the Control key—pressed together.

One of the Operator techs. Peek like that and you stop faster than you do off a walking swing. Peeker's advantage, a crouch-peek, and a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prefire into the angle they would have to take. I didn't really see them. I shot where I expected them to be. A timing shot.

CRACK!

A shot like that, nobody reacts to. Not Apas. Not even Yaye.

"Oh my god," Oldboy said.

"Whoa, nice!" Zzangdol said.

A prefire, and it collateraled?

"Ahem. Basics. Ah—no. Their spike is down."

Ack. A broadcast line had slipped out on its own. Ahem.

The three-second one-versus-five quad must have left a mark, because Sprout Patrol was watching for aggressive holds with something close to religion. Pilluelo's Jett had even bought a Marshal, and he was waiting for nothing except Eunha to show herself. If she peeked, he would blow her head off with it and collect every grudge he was owed.

Just as he wanted, Eunha pushed and peeked, and Pilluelo pulled the trigger to settle the score.

Or he tried to.

CRACK!

"Ah, collateral!!"

"How is that so fast?"

If Eunha's Operator hadn't gone clean through them, it might have been different. Phoenix broke into a run for the trade, but she had already spent Tailwind and was gone. And because the casters' feed happened to be stuck on Pilluelo, the desk and the audience watched the fight through his eyes. He died without the start of a reaction. That was how fast the peek had been.

The Omen who would have smoked, and the Jett who would have entered, were both dead. Staying put was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a loss anyway, so what was left of Sprout Patrol clung to a scrap of a chance and pushed A.

CRACK!

tat-tat-tat-bang!

They had come in leaning on the flash, and what met them was a heavy large-caliber slug and rifle fire.

In the end, Sprout Patrol's rush was stuffed head-on once again.