The Return of the Queen
A soft breeze rolled over the hill, reaching a lonely figure, caressing her face and lifting her hair into a graceful shape. The young woman considered her equipment one last time, mentally making sure everything was in the right place. Satisfied, she looked down the hill, sizing up her opponent.
Years of rivalry, months of preparation, all leading to this moment. There was no doubt in her mind she would not be bested this time.
Her thoughts wandered into the past, to her humble beginnings. Early childhood spent scavenging for scraps of old technology, teenage years spent practicing her moves, honing her craft, assembilng her equipment, already becoming aware of the hostile presence of her rival and, finally, her entry into adulthood, mired by the bitter memory of defeat at the hand of her sworn enemy.
She snapped back into the present moment, Her eyes looking straight into the eyes of her Nemesis. It was time.
In one smooth motion she reached into a pouch attached to her vest. In the corner of her eye, she registered her enemy motioning towards her bag.
"This is it.", she thought...
With a quick flick of the wrist, she took out her phone and checked the numbers...
5035 likes on instagram
785 facebook friends requests
She looked down on her enemy, her triumph thundering in the pupil of her eye.
"Fuck you Stacy, you bitch. I am the LARPing queen now, and you're nothing but a dumb, ugly, good for nothing attention whore nobody cares about. Go suck a cock.", she thought, but never said. The beginning of her reign was to be savored in dignity, not celebrated with petty insults.
People were watching, after all...