other way, was QQ with her pistol raised. QQ shifted left and Cynister hopped into the same car, but Rhaven was mostly behind a crate. Almost simultaneously, they all began to shoot. Cynister and Rhaven both tagged QQ, but the woman popped off a heal and then a second shot. Cynister dropped, but Rhaven just kept tapping, always aiming for the head - and then it happened.
Cynister < QQ
QQ < Rhaven
And from the end of the table, Riley jumped to her feet, squealing loudly. "Rhaven for the win! Yes! Congratulations, chica!" while rushing down the table to hug Rhaven from behind. "You won!"
Rhaven just gasped, waiting for it all to sink in. "I won?"
"You kicked some serious ass," Psyc said from beside her. "Good game, Rhaven. A very good game."
Chapter 44
Everyone had to congratulate her. Even PBJ made a point of telling her she'd done a good job. The whole thing felt surreal, as if they were about to announce another round, or some reason the match had to be redone. Rhaven found herself smiling weakly, braced for the worst, but it never came. Instead, Riley tapped her side and then pointed to the main door.
"When you get done with your interviews, we have the gamer girl match at Braden's booth. Still coming?"
Rhaven nodded. "Yeah. Wow. Does this get easier?"
"It does," Riley promised. "Just don't let the idiot reporters push you around. And when their question is dumb, call them on it."
"Thanks," Rhaven breathed, looking over to the cluster of people, but she didn't head that way. Not yet.
Instead, Psyc stood with her for a moment while the "losers" of the map went to talk to that mob. When she let out her third heavy sigh, he reached up to rub her shoulder. Rhaven looked over to find the proudest look on his face.
"You played hard," he said. "If you don't get a contract, I'll be shocked."
"Yeah," she breathed. "And it means I can really start over. Just the check for this is going to help."
"It's fifty grand, Rhaven," Psyc told her. "Little less, because taxes and all that, but I think you're going to be ok."
Fifty grand? That was fifty thousand dollars! Holy shit. Yeah, she'd be able to move with that. Granted, depending on where she lived, it wouldn't last too long, but it would be enough to get a place, some furniture, and feed her until she had a job. Then again, she should probably pay back Adam and Kate...
While she thought about that, Psyc let her know he was going to soften up the reporters, and for her to not wait too long. She nodded to show she heard, but just wasn't quite ready. Talking to all those cameras? And they weren't just holding phones this time! Some of those people had real microphones and camera men with blinding lights.
She pushed out one more sigh, and then decided to just get it over with. Making her way down the stairs, Rhaven was spotted before she even reached the doorway. Three people called out her name, and a man hurried over to thrust a mic at her face.
"Rhaven, how does it feel to win your first professional tournament?" he asked.
"Shocking," she admitted. "Cynister played hard, and I never would've had a chance if he hadn't torn QQ up a bit before I got my last shot off."
"So is this a fluke?" the reporter asked. "Or do you think it has more to do with an advantage you get as a male?"
All the blood in her body drained down to her toes. "What?" she asked.
"Well, since men have dominated this sport until recently, do you think being genetically male helps you aim faster or respond better?"
The idiot didn't seem to realize how insulting his question was, let alone how embarrassing. "No," she gasped. "Haven't you seen QQ play? Kitty before she went on maternity leave? Being genetically female doesn't seem to be a problem for them at all."
"So, you're saying you're actually at a disadvantage because you're not a real woman?" the man asked.
"I am a real woman!" she snapped. "What I'm saying is that it doesn't matter. I won this match because of a combination of luck - being in the right place at the right time - and years of experience. I'm a gamer. Nothing else matters. The clothes I wear, the friends I keep, the music I listen to... None of that makes me better or worse. Being gay, bi, or straight; identifying as a