As the brief conversation wrapped up, the team entered the practice range to warm up before the match.
Do-hee glanced at the Parallel forum and smirked at the chaos unfolding.
[This is… an employee?]
[Attention, Momo, who is currently streaming]
[Calm down, she’s a civilian.]
[●▅▇█▇▆▆▅▄▇]
[I’ve been crying every day without Employee D’s streams.]
[Momo, just announce she’s a second-gen mber already.]
[●▅▇█▇▆▆▅▄▇]
[●▅▇█▇▆▆▅▄▇]
[Corporate employee standards are insanely high…]
[WiiiiiihahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.]
It was a bit early to bring it up, but looking at the mix of restraint, unhinged enthusiasm, and people flopping over in defeat…
It was safe to say today’s stream had already accomplished its goal.
Sure, there were “biochemical terror” warnings floating around (which was just Parallel slang for mass shitposting threats).
But in Do-hee’s experience, this was ta by comparison.
Now, it was ti to negotiate.
This was the mont to make Gia’s scarcity clear—to let the audience know that even if she ever changed her mind and debuted, for now, she was a protected employee.
“Before we start the match, I just want to say sothing. Employee D does a lot of work for the company.
So please don’t spam the other mbers’ streams demanding collabs, asking her to show up, or forcing them to let you hear her voice. It’s exhausting for her, and it’s uncomfortable for the others.
But when opportunities like this co up, we’ll bring her along. So let’s settle on that, yeah? Deal?”
— Sounds fair.
— 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
— Ugh, that just makes want her more.
— Why. Why. WHY ARE YOU A CORPORATE DRONE.
[Corporate drone? Excuse you. This is the best workplace ever.]
The funny thing was—sowhere along the way, Gia had completely adapted to the stream and started filling in the gaps with her own comntary.
In professional terms—she had ward up.
She had no intention of becoming a strear, but she was already a natural at knowing when to jump in and when to stay quiet.
Initially, the conversation would’ve wrapped up with Gia’s last line.
Now, she was starting to prolong the exchange—setting up her own assists.
“Oh, yeah? Best workplace ever? Wanna start working 16-hour shifts starting tomorrow?”
[I quit.]
— LOOOOOOL.
— She figured it out. Ti to go full-ti strear.
— She saw the light.
— GET HER.
[I was kidding. I’m not quitting. I don’t have anywhere else to go.]
— Yes, you dooooooooo!
— WE’RE RIGHT HERE, DAMN IT.
— THERE ARE PEOPLE OUTSIDE YOUR MONITOR!!
— JOIN US.
— Hehehe.
— Take it easy.
— We’re not bad people, really.
Of course, she imdiately rejected every “kind uncle” trying to lure her in with taphorical candy.
That was what made her drive them insane.
She seed like she’d be easy to convince.
She looked like the type to fall for peer pressure.
But then she’d just stomp on their goodwill like a stubborn child going, "No!"
Naturally, this only fueled their obsession.
And, since Gia was obviously closest to Do-hee, where would all that jealousy go?
Straight into exaggerating rumors about Do-hee.
:: An anonymous donor has contributed 1,000 Clouds! ::
:: Be honest—knowing Momo, she probably slapped you the first ti you t, right? No way she just let Signal Flare off the hook. LOL. ::
— She must’ve pulled a knife on her and forced her into the company…
— The shocking dark truth behind this employnt contract.
— “Best workplace” my ass, she’s obviously been brainwashed.
“Agh, here we go again.”
But Gia—despite being a nace—was also Do-hee’s most dedicated fan.
It was like…
Sure, she could talk shit about Do-hee. But if anyone else did, she’d be pissed.
[To be honest, CEO, I was actually terrified when I first t you. I thought you would be that kind of person.
But you were super nice. So I’m gonna stick around until the company dies.]
Even with that rare high praise from Gia herself, Do-hee could only let out a tired laugh.
That wasn’t helping.
If anything, it was making the rumors worse.
— She’s definitely brainwashed.
— BREAKING NEWS: Signal Flare found tied to an electric chair in Momo’s basent.
— I an, she was a troll, but this is next-level.
Was Gia being sincere?
Or was she deliberately making things worse for Do-hee?
There was no way to know.
BOOM. BOOM.
But the double-barrel shots ringing out around Do-hee’s character were definitely telling her sothing.
No matter how much Gia had been socialized…
She was still Signal Flare.
And there was nothing she loved more than ssing with Momo.
“…You’re using double-barrels again today?”
[Why are you even asking? Of course I am.]
Do-hee sighed in resignation. “You said we were deadweight. Are you not gonna use any other weapons?”
[Why are you even asking? Of course I’m not.]
“…So, from now on, you’re gonna stop bullying and be a good person, right?”
A sharp question, trying to bait Gia into a slip-up.
But her dodge was just as clean.
[Nope.]
— LOOOOOOL.
— She’s never changing.
— What are these two even doing???
— They’re adorable.
***
I started playing Battle Colosseum because of Momo.
She threw herself into it with everything she had—screaming, crying, laughing.
I couldn’t understand what could make her so emotional over a ga.
Then I picked it up myself… and discovered a hidden FPS talent I never knew I had.
Before I realized it, I had climbed all the way to Diamond rank.
And that was the turning point in my Momo juice farming career.
Diamond.
The peak of casual play.
The abyss where all hope went to die.
Sure, sotis you ran into a fallen pro—so poor soul from the true top ranks who had plumted down to our level.
But the majority?
They were bitter ghosts.
People who desperately wanted to climb higher… but never could.
People who had tried everything—and failed.
And so, they made it their mission to ensure that no one else climbed, either.
The Battle Colosseum Diamond queue was a parade of trolls, each with their own special brand of insanity.
The ones who stripped down to their underwear and ran around the map at max speed, using only their hero’s movent buffs.
The ones who deliberately killed teammates just to steal their loot—then revived them, just to do it again.
The ones who acted like they were fighting, only to suddenly turn and shoot you in the back, stealing your kill at the last second.
I refused to be a victim.
And so, I made a decision.
Double-barrel shotguns. Two of them.
If a teammate so much as twitched like they were about to troll, I’d put them down.
Other guns gave people ti to react—ti to run, ti to fight back.
But a double-barrel?
Two shots, point-blank, straight to the head—instant drop. No ti to complain.
And once I put one troll down, the ga suddenly beca a lot cleaner.
I even made it to Master rank a few tis this way.
Of course, so of them reported .
But they couldn’t stop .
I had twenty accounts. (I told the CEO a lower number on purpose.)
If one got banned, I’d just climb back up to Diamond on another, hunt down more trolls, and clean the server up all over again.
And so.
The double-barrel ta—the playstyle that had beco my identity—
It had actually started as a holy crusade against trolls.
And "Human Signal Flare Kim Fireworks"—
The na that had struck terror into so many players—
Was the result of eight failed attempts before I finally perfected it.
…Sure, I had stared into the abyss a little too long.
Sure, I had beco part of the abyss myself.
But that abyss had led to eting the CEO.
And now, we were here, working together.
No regrets.
And so, my belief remains unchanged.
If you truly want victory,
Then in a three-man queue, at least one teammate—if not two—is better off being discarded.
A useless ally is more dangerous than a competent enemy.
And when those deadweights are popular VTubers?
And when I can’t just teamkill them, because they’re my Oshi?
I have to strategically abandon them.
[Where are we dropping?]
I let the CEO make the call.
Then I set up my escape plan.
“Factory sounds good.”
[Factory? Not bad. Not a lot of people drop there these days.]
I nodded and jumped from the dropship.
As expected, the CEO and Rain followed after .
I acted like I was going to land at Factory.
I pretended to commit.
Then, just before landing, I deployed my parachute early.
The CEO and Rain did the sa.
But since I was braking as hard as possible, I rose higher than them—floating above their heads.
And then…
I turned my parachute away.
“et at Sabondi Archipelago in twenty minutes.”
The reactions from my teammates ca instantly.
[…? What the hell are you talking about? Employee D? Where are you going? Not there.]
[Employee D? Factory’s that way. Where the hell are you—?]
Ignoring them, I landed in a small town a little distance away.
Their confused voices beca background noise as I calmly began looting.
[Why is she over there?]
[Guess she doesn’t want to share loot. Whatever. Leave her.]
They didn’t notice at first.
But eventually, the two radio DJs picked up on sothing being very wrong.
[Uh, CEO. I hear parachutes.]
[…Oh. Oh, shit. That’s… not just one or two people.]
Objective:
Double-barrel shotgun x2
Grenades & smokes (preferably sticky grenades over frag grenades)
Found one shotgun.
Two stacks of 20 shells.
Enough to kill at least ten people.
More ammo can be looted off the bodies.
Oh—another double-barrel.
Perfect.
Lacking smokes, but that can also be looted.
It was about ti for things to really start.
And, sure enough, the radio station exploded.
[AAAAAAAH CEO THESE FUCKERS WHAT THE HELL!!]
[RAIN!! UPSTAIRS! GET TO THE ROOFTOP—AH, SHIT, THEY’RE DROPPING FROM THE ROOF TOO, WHAT THE HELL!!]
[AAAAAAH. THEY’RE INSANE. OH, OH GOD, I’M HIT. CEO. PUNCH THEM. OH FU—]
The town I was in was about 200–300 ters from Factory.
And yet, I could hear gunfire erupting like fireworks.
RATATATATATATATATATATA—
Factory had been peaceful when we dropped.
But that was before the zombie horde arrived.
Because that’s what this was.
A stream sniping apocalypse.
Rain was the worst player in history.
If people kept her alive, she’d grovel like they had saved her actual life.
Momo was obsessed with winning.
If people shot her up, she’d rage like they had just killed her real family.
And everyone wanted a piece of that reaction.
Momo’s average Battle Colosseum viewership: 8,000
Today’s collab peak: 15,000
A literal army of stream snipers.
A zombie apocalypse.
And I was letting them swarm.
[EMPLOYEE D!! WHEN ARE YOU COMING?? BRING A CAR OR SOTHING!!!]
I repeated the sa thing I had said earlier.
Because I still wasn’t ready to charge in.
Instead, I told them what Lü Bu told his allies when he was fashionably late to battle:
“et at Sabondi Archipelago in fifteen minutes.”
[WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN AN?!?!]
If Rain weren’t currently getting eaten alive, she’d recognize the reference.
But right now?
She was a little busy.
I kept looting.
Final Item:
Purple shield upgrade (one level below max)
I was set.
It was ti to hunt.
[Aaaaaaaaah.]
[Rain, are you okay?!]
[CEO!! I’M GONNA DIE!!]
[WHERE ARE YOU?!]
[Mi—third floor—NO, 3RD FLOOR—I’M TRAPPED!!]
[JUST STAY ALIVE!! I’M COMING!!]
I took off running toward Factory.
Sliding, sprinting—combining movent tech, the way veterans did.
In the distance, I saw stream snipers moving in squads.
Firing in unison.
Turning the entire Factory into a bullet storm.
Like an actual fireworks festival.
Just for fun, I fired a test shot into the sky.
BOOM.
No reaction.
They weren’t even looking at .
They were too busy hunting my teammates.
Perfect.
I slid down the hill.
A sniper stood at the edge of a low cliff.
I lined up my sights.
BOOM.
{{ Human Signal Flare Kim Fireworks >> (Headshot) iIIiiIIiIiIiIII }}
Reviews
All reviews (0)