Kevin made Ultimatt apologize to Gerald for killing him, and Cecilia made Gerald apologize to Ultimatt for kidnapping him and fusing 50 of his people into a giant monster and then trying to feed him to that monster. Neither of them meant the apology, and everyone was well aware of the fact that Gerald was still a little POS who’d deserved it… but Ultimatt cared enough about Kevin, and Gerald about Cecilia, to indulge them.
Ultimatt grilled Gerald on who exactly he’d been muttering about building an army of gacha to kill, but while he looked like he wanted to say it, it was as if he was literally unable to. “If I tell you, Ultimate Matthew,” he said, terror in his eyes, “I will instantly perish, for reasons I cannot explain without also perishing instantly.”
“Sounds like bullshit,” Ultimatt spat, acting like he was going to grab the terrified teen’s neck again, but Cecilia stopped him.
“It’s true, Ultimatt,” she said, tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket. “I can’t talk about it either. There’s a…” she silently mouthed the words “Legendary gacha,” “... who’s always listening. If we say more than that, we’ll be killed.”
“By who?!” Ultimatt demanded, thoroughly frustrated and confused. He let the conversation fade. Kevin locked eyes with him and ran a finger across his own throat in warning. In an attempt to save the evening, Kevin and Cecilia insisted they all (sans Gerald, who was uninterested in such trifles anyway) still go to the arcade as originally planned, and both Matts were thrilled with the idea.
As the sun started to set, they took the limousine to the Briarblue Mall (“it’s the smallest vehicle we have,” Cecilia bashfully explained to the rest) and ascended to the Cyberstation arcade, marked by a bright red futuristic sign. A licensed Namco arcade, it always had the latest titles, all well maintained. An after-school crowd of kids and gacha roamed through its space-scene painted walls, weaving in and out between cabinets. The smell of the Chinese food across the hall, and the constant symphony of clicking buttons, dropping tokens, and dispensing tickets gave the place its unique, atmospheric charm. It felt like home, to all of them. Ultimatt had already been here three times prior in the three days he’d been alive, and Matthew seemed similarly familiar. Kevin basically lived here, finding it much easier to scrounge up a quarter here and there than to purchase a home console given his situation. Matthew put in a five-dollar bill for each of them (himself and Ultimatt included) and distributed the resulting Pac-Man adorned tokens evenly among them.
Kevin immediately took up the role of showing Cecilia around, desperate to gain approval from his mastery of this particular arcade location, because in his eyes he didn’t have much else to offer. “They have all the latest cabs here,” he bubbled, “even Dance Dance Revolution. Now, if you haven’t played many video games before, I suggest we start with something easy like Rush 2049--”
“They have Third Strike!” Cecilia excitedly squealed overtop of him, racing over to the machine. “That’s the best one!” Kevin was impressed--he’d never met a girl who knew what Third Strike was, let alone why it was the best version of Street Fighter III. He joined her by the cab, trying to regain control of the situation for maximum teenaged alpha-male coolness. A Linguine Arf on a stepstool had just died to Urien in arcade mode and thrown his chef’s hat down in disgust, the sound of pasta in boiling water gurgling up from his throat. He angrily plodded away, cursing “arf” under his breath, so the machine was now open.
“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” Kevin said, stepping up to the cab. “Not to brag or anything, b-but I’m really freakin’ good at it, I once even beat arcade mode without continues. It’s--”
She locked eyes with him, the sunset-reflecting oceans in their irises turning to fiercely burning flames. “Fight me.”
Kevin tried not to panic. This was very bad. If he said no, he’d be unable to totally turn her on with how awesome he was. If he said yes, and played against her, he’d certainly destroy her and crush her spirit, and maybe even make her upset and frustrated. This really couldn’t end well for him… but better a champion than a loser, he figured. “O-okay But don’t get frustrated when--”
Before Kevin could finish, she’d already slammed two tokens in and selected her burgundy alternate costume and her second Super Art option. Kevin tried not to let this get to him, assuming she had just chosen random options. He took his battle position and selected Akuma. He wasn’t sure how to select alternate colors, so he didn’t.
Kevin was very proud of the fact that he knew how to do all of Akuma’s special move inputs, blissfully unaware there were a few he didn’t know. He started throwing out various types of Hadouken, hoping she would forgive him for ending her so quickly, but she frame-perfect parried every last projectile and comboed him to death with Chun-Li. “ALL RIGHT, THAT’S COOL,” the game’s announcer bragged, as “PERFECT” flashed on the screen. The next round went about the same. Kevin stood frozen as the match ended, jaw agape, trying to process what had just happened. He didn’t even know you could parry.
“Don’t get frustrated,” she said with a sly grin, parroting his words back at him. “I’ve had a lot of practice. Jerry and I have a cab at home. What’s twenty thousand square feet without a few arcade games?”
“O-oh,” Kevin replied. “W-wow.” He wasn’t even angry, or jealous, about any of it. Just... overwhelmed. Admittedly, this sequence of events had only served to make her even more desirable in his eyes.
“You’ll have to come practice some time; I’ll show you how to do some of the techniques I was throwing at you.” She winked, and he could feel his entire face light on fire. Maybe she actually liked him back? “Come on,” she giggled, velvetly grabbing his hand, “let’s play something co-op, for your sake. Time Crisis II is another favorite…”
Meanwhile, Ultimatt and Matthew were leaning on the wall by the ticket dispenser, being cool guys. Or, rather, Ultimatt started leaning there chewing Bubble Tape like a cool guy, and Matthew joined in and kept silently shooting nervous glances his way. “So, y-you’re Kevin’s Matt, huh?” Matthew finally spoke up, nervously adjusting his long silk gloves.
“Eeeeeyep,” Ultimatt replied.
“I simply could not help but notice that h-he’s not wearing a Gacha Glove, either. K-Kevin, that is.”
“What are you getting at?” Ultimatt replied. Matthew was afraid he meant this in a defensive way until he offered him a piece of Bubble Tape. Matthew politely declined.
“I’m not insinuating anything,” Matthew continued, “except that you’re another Matt like me.”
“Huh,” Ultimatt said, blowing a large bubble until it popped, “I guess Cecilia isn’t wearing one either, is she?” He chuckled, sliding the Bubble Tape container back into the pocket of his leather jacket. “I guess there aren’t too many gacha who would willingly serve some kid if they weren’t forced, huh?”
“I suppose not, but I was specifically referring to the other Matts. They are not typically fond of humans.” This wording felt startling to Utimatt, who despite being able to rewind relative time now, had always considered himself essentially human.
“I wasn’t aware ‘the other Matts’ had their own way of thinking.”
“Oh, for the most part, yes. There’s a tent city of Matts on the old side of downtown. They talk about revolution all the time. They give me the creeps.”
“Huh. I guess I just always figured it was usually like you or me. Same backstory, same memories, basically the same abilities, but very, eh, drastically different personalities.” Seeing Matthew sink deeper into the wall, he added, “I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“Y-you don’t?”
“Nah. You’re not an abrasive asshole like I am. I appreciate that. It would be very tiring to hang out with myself. It’s probably for the best I can’t, too. I’m too fucking hot, I know I’d end up falling for myself.”
“Aren’t you hanging out with yourself right now?” Matthew asked, smirking a little despite the nerves. It took Ultimatt a moment to realize he was referring to himself, and he did something nobody had seen Ultimatt do before, even when he was just Matt... he blushed and did a very poor job of hiding it.
“Well, aren’t you just direct,” Ultimatt quipped back. “Guess you’re not as weak as you look.”
“E-excuse me?” Matthew snapped, offended.
“I took you for a dainty, unconfident germaphobe with those stupid gloves, but if you’ve got the balls to hit on me, maybe I had you wrong.”
“The gloves are not for sanitary reasons,” Matthew dryly replied. Ultimatt waited for him to complete the thought, but he never did.
“What, have you got some kinda’ deformity or something?”
“Not quite.” Matthew’s eyes turned dark and serious for a moment, exuding a quiet power his normal demeanor lacked. “Let’s go with… scars.”
“Gacha heal quick,” Ultimatt replied. “I can’t imagine what would be bad enough to leave scars that still haven’t healed.”
Matthew pulled the long, silky white gloves off, revealing forearms and hands that looked segmented together. Ultimatt gasped in spite of himself. Inch-long portions had been hacked off sequentially, like a chicken breast prepared into strips for a salad, and then haphazardly sewn back together. When he put great effort in, Matthew could still move his fingers a bit in this state, but it was deeply painful. He gritted his teeth in agony just to wiggle them the slightest bit to show Ultimatt.
“I tried to protect Cecilia,” Matthew softly explained, his voice wavering. “This was my punishment for getting in the way. As the Master was winding up to beat her with his bat, I grabbed his arms and stopped him. Before I could even process my fate, I was suspended in time by his Existentia and forced to my knees, and then the Master spread my arms across a cutting board. When time has stopped for you, you are still entirely conscious, but unable to react or to move your body. Everything feels as though it is in painfully slow motion, where every second is experienced as a full minute. The Master took a magic-charged knife and slowly chopped cut perfectly straight lines one inch apart across me, from the fingertips all the way up to the spot where I had grabbed him. In his mind, it was some twisted form of justice for insulting him by touching him without permission.”
He locked eyes with Ultimatt, who had started sweating in spite of himself, and continued. “He used a ruler to make sure each cut was perfectly straight and exactly one inch apart. Each cut was delivered slowly and with great pleasure, some taking as much as five seconds, which was five minutes in the time prison I was locked inside by the Existentia’s spell. I lost count after ten cuts and began to lose my sanity, watching as dripping pieces of me flopped over on a crimson-stained quartz cutting board like pieces of vegetables, the most intense pain I’d ever experienced reverberating throughout my entire being. I wanted to scream, but I could not even do that, forced to merely bear it for what felt like hours.
“I finally dissociated so hard that I remembered nothing up until the point where I was returned to Ceci, bleeding stumps past my elbows, along with a freezer bag full of my chunks. ‘If you can put him back together, you can keep him,’ she was told, so she sewed me back together so that my heightened healing abilities could fuse the pieces back together as good as possible, which… as you see now, is… still not very good. She was silent as she operated, not shedding a single tear or complaint, her eyes burning with a silent determination. I fear people get the impression that she is a weak and spoiled rich child, but she is the strongest person I’ve ever met. I do not regret for a moment what I did. While I was being eviscerated, she was able to flee, and he never did punish her as intended, not since then. I don’t know what I’ll do if he does again… I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”
Ultimatt took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, taking care not to choke on his gum. His mind was stuck between being impressed by and attracted to this fellow hero of a Matt and worrying about whoever he was describing. “The Master, you call him. Who is that dickwad?”
“I cannot say,” Matthew whispered, swallowing hard. “It was already a risk to tell you of this at all. His Existentia listens to all people, scanning the speech of all beings in the city, or maybe even the world, transmitting anything said about him so he may judge them accordingly. I can only call him Master because, as of right now, that is not one of the terms she is searching for him.”
“It’s their dad,” Ultimatt said aloud, a dead look in his eyes.
“You said it, not me,” Matthew replied, sliding his gloves back over his quivering sections. “He hurts Gerald much less since Gerald is of his own flesh and blood. Gerald is truly a little prick, but I think it is his way of coping. He has to lord his wealth over his peers because it is the only thing he has. He delights in the same sort of attitude the Master partakes in against them because it makes him feel in control, like he is no longer the victim. Not to excuse his behavior, mind you, but he’s not a monster. I can only hate him so much, when we both function as big brothers for Ceci. He loves Cecilia more than anything, and his whole scheme has been to… well, I think he told you, in as many words as he could safely utter.”
“Do you think he can do it?” Ultimatt asked, solemnly.
Matthew paused for a moment, looking to the floor. “I do not know if it can be done. He has three Legendary gacha he claims to have never seen anyone else ever pull before as well as connections with the other powerful who’s who in the city. I don’t think it’s possible to defeat an Existentia, but I think the plan is to overpower them with hundreds of powerful gacha all at once. As far as I know, the Master’s Fickle Fortune can predict an opponent’s every future move, and Existentia can freeze them in time, but I think that’s on an individual scale. His only Legendary suited for an onslaught is Temparment, as far as I know, but I still don’t think it’s possible—Temparment is basically invincible. I think the boy will get killed trying, but I do wish him all the luck in the world when he does try, for Ceci’s sake.” Matthew glanced across the room at Cecilia and Kevin pumping tokens into Time Crisis II, giggling and flirting and having a grand time without a care in the world. His stomach churned, bittersweetly… he wished this moment could last forever for them; wished she never had to go home to that place. To that man.
Ultimatt looked sadly to the floor, processing all this. After a long pause, he finally asked, “do you want me to try to rewind your arms?”
“I don’t think that is a good idea,” Matthew replied, smiling sadly, “though you have my deepest appreciation for the offer. I spoke to Gerald about the sensation of being rewound through time, and he said that for the one witnessing it, it is like reliving every sensation in real time in reverse. I couldn’t bear to experience a fraction of that pain and agony again. I’d much rather just wear the gloves. It’s a fashion statement, anyhow.” He smiled the most genuine smile he could and laughed hollowly, though it was clear he was trying very hard to make it feel sincere.
Ultimatt nodded gravely. “I gotcha. N-no pun intended. I just… felt like I had to offer.” In Matthew, he saw a lot of himself. There was the fact he was literally the same person, yes, but beyond that, Matthew had the same steadfast dedication to and love for his makeshift human little sibling, without a Glove or any other form of coercion or compensation.
There were also ways Ultimatt felt outclassed. Matthew had gone through more for Cecilia than Ultimatt had for Kevin, even, but he somehow managed to maintain his pleasant nature. It was a trait Ultimatt had seen in Kevin and had tried to emulate as best he could, admiring it. Maybe that’s what made him different from other Matts--he was indeed prepared to wipe out anyone who looked at him the wrong way before being influenced by Kevin’s kindness and sense of wonder. Still, Ultimatt couldn’t help but feel that, as little time as they’d spent together, Matthew had picked this ideal up better and more genuinely. He was jealous of it, and he admired it.
Ultimatt, on the other hand, had developed a great disdain for nearly everybody and everything. That disdain had only grown as he learned more about the horrors of the world he’d been summoned into three days ago… hell, he’d even killed a kid (though, to his credit, he did bring him back). Matthew, though, seemed unwilling to let such things drag him down at all. He seemed to see the good in everyone instead of the bad, even in someone like Gerald, and pushed through with no hatred or malice in his heart. Ulimatt had been a jerk to Lashbrook, even, up until the second he left the house that he was offered to stay in for free.
Though he was a Six Star Rainbow Legendary now, Ultimatt felt slightly inferior to Matthew. He wanted to be more like him. He wanted to know him better. Understand his worldview. See if what he’d say about hanging out with himself would prove true. Ultimatt smiled a little in spite of himself. “I guess it was pretty mean bringing you to an arcade, in retrospect,” he joked.
“Oh? And why would you say that?”
“You know…” Ultimatt lifted his own fingerless-glove-clad hands and mimicked the pained wiggling of fingers. “Not to be an ass about it, or to mock you, I promise. Just… y’know.”
Matthew chuckled confidently and shook his head, grinning. “Ulti, Ulti, Ulti… you may be a six star, but you have so much to learn.” At being called “Ulti,” Ultimatt scowled and tried to stifle a blush. “It’s so outdated to think of gaming as a hands-on only experience. This is the year of our lord 1999, baby! Think outside of the box a little bit.” He walked up to the newest cabinet in the arcade: a brand-new behemoth machine labelled Dance Dance Revolution. In front of the cabinet, two sturdy metal pads, each with four arrows on them, beckoned. A cool dude had just cleared Final Stage on Hard mode for the first time and was struggling to even breathe, his friends cheering him on. The game then announced it was giving him “EXTRA STAGE.” “I can’t do it, man,” he said to his friends, slogging off the pads, sweat cascading down his face. “Someone else hop on. There shouldn’t be another stage. This is crazy.”
“That game’s impossible,” Ultimatt scoffed.
“Yeah? Weak words from a six star,” Matthew replied, winking. Ultimatt quickly realized he was wearing sneakers instead of heels like most Matts--he had come prepared. He climbed on the pads, to the gasps of the crowd, and then took his stance as the machine loaded the hardest song on the game: PARANOiA. “Good timing. I’ve been wanting to play this one again and did not know how to access it on this version. Thanks, random cool dude.” The random cool dude gave him a thumbs up.
“He’s not even grabbing onto the bar,” one girl in the crowd murmured.
“He’s about to get fuckin’ murdered,” another kid laughed, jabbing his friend in the side.
But as the dark pounding techno blared at a blistering 180 BPM, a barrage of arrows flying up the screen, Matthew didn’t miss a single beat. His hips swayed and snapped back and forth, feet flying to hit every note, barely breaking a sweat. It sounded like tap dancing. The crowd lost their minds, applauding wildly when the results screen popped up. Not all Perfects, but no misses.
“Holy hell,” Ultimatt said, breathlessly.
“No sweat,” Matthew laughed, taking a dramatic bow to the crowd. Pulling Ultimatt aside and placing an arm around his shoulder, he added, “we have a DDR 3rd Mix machine at home. Japan has way harder stuff out by now. PARANOiA Rebirth makes this look easy. It’s 190 BPM.” He was playing it cool, but they both knew that even having a machine at home didn’t make up for the fact Matthew had only existed for three days.
“Yeah, but it was still…” Ultimatt said, sweating himself, “really… y-you know...”
“...hot?” Matthew whispered in his ear, nibbling gently on his earlobe: the high of the dance game and the adrenaline of performing in front of a crowd had eliminated his normal shyness, so he went for it. Ultimatt responded in turn, grabbing his hair with a strong arm and leaning down to pull him up into a ferocious kiss.
“I think our Matts are getting along,” Kevin said, pausing between levels to glance over at them.
“Maybe we should follow their lead,” Cecilia winked, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
Well, at least I know now what heaven feels like,Kevin thought, turning bright red.
The rest of the tokens went by equally flirtatiously and carefree, with the group then deciding to go on a double date to the fancy Olive Garden next door (with Cecilia paying, of course--not Kevin’s fault he’s homeless). Things were going very smoothly for once, with an evening finally being spent without a crisis of some sort.
Unfortunately, Existentia had overheard Matthew and Matt talking, and had indeed been scanning conversation that evening for the term “the Master.”