Work Text:
Marcy Wu, head of the Chess Club, master RTS player, straight A student, except for gym but only because they were reading in class, and newest Chief Ranger of the Newtopian Night Guard was a person of many titles.
They used to take these things in great stride and be filled with a deep, swelling pride because of them.
That is until they realized just how pointless they were.
How devoid of any true meaning they were.
—
The Chess Club at Saint James Middle School wasn’t exactly a force to be reckoned with. It consisted of 8 people including Marcy themself and only 2 other people had ever played chess before joining. Naturally, they lost every single match they participated in, except for one.
They won because half of the contestants were sick, not because another team just happened to be worse at it than them.
All meetings were hosted in an old small classroom, even by the standards of the already small Catholic school. It has been devoid of use for years and, depending on how you view the club, still is. Meetings only last an hour and seemed to bore even people who willingly joined the club, except Marcy, of course.
The reason the club was formed makes this track record especially depressing.
Marcy thoroughly enjoyed chess because it had reminded them of their grandmother, the only relative they really liked. Their grandmother taught them how to play when they were 5 years old, but they quickly mastered the game. They enjoyed the thrill and satisfaction that a strategic victory could bring. The only thing they enjoyed more was the quaint peace their grandmother’s company offered.
The quiet nights spent playing Chess and rambling about their newest interest to a genuine listener were some of the best of their life. Even when they had the worst of days at school, the familiar image of their grandmother smiling wildly and gesturing to the worn chess board on the oak wood dining room table filled them with immense anticipation and joy.
Her house was modest and tiny, but vibrant like a real home, even though she was the only occupant. It was Marcy’s “real home” as they would say. They would go over almost every weekend just to see her. It was the perfect mix of an escape from their parent’s expectations and a genuinely fun time.
Until they were 10 years old.
Their grandmother was deathly ill and was hospitalized for the remainder of her life.
They remember the hospital smell burning their nose and the lights drying out their eyes more than the ensuing sobbing, but they braved the horrible sensations just to see her. They didn’t know exactly what was wrong but they were smart enough to know that she was nearing her end, she was 76 years old after all.
The older woman was not very conscious during this time, but even when she was awake she was too weak to say much. She was pale with a pained expression, eternally plastered on her ever thinning face, despite the lack of consciousness. Marcy mostly spent the time rambling about their newest interest or their day at school in a vain attempt to replicate normalcy.
They missed how their grandmother listened to them regardless of how long they spoke or how little she understood. Seeing their grandmother so weak devastated Marcy, so they tried ignoring it when they weren’t at the hospital.
Death has never been one to spare pitiful, fleeting mortal feelings, and Marcy’s were no exception.
They were there when she died, and held her hand in her final moments as they tried their best not to cry for her sake.
“There’s no need to cry 亮度 , it is not a failing of yours.” Her voice was incredibly raspy and strained from lack of use, you’d think she hadn’t drank anything in months.
“I’m sorry 祖母 . 我 很抱歉 .”
They had to be dragged away from her body, kicking, screaming, and sobbing uncontrollably against the much larger and clearly annoyed security guards.
They founded the chess club the next year in her honor. She loved Chess with all her heart and Marcy thought it was the least they could do for her after all she did for them.
They curse themself for not being a better head of the chess club, it’s such a pitiful club that they almost feel like they’ve disappointed her postmortem. Being the best of the worst is hardly an achievement and hardly a proper way to honor someone that loved you.
“ 我 对这一切很抱歉 .”
——
Marcy Wu, master RTS player? As if. Even ignoring the frequent chess failures against the King, they still made careless mistakes because of their memory, regardless of what they were playing.
Sometimes they misremember what type of infantry to train for the strategy they had planned hours in advance. This led to incredibly embarrassing, preventable losses and opened up the gateway for verbal attacks.
The price of playing online games is the rude people, they suppose.
Other times they become so obsessed with playing they get ahead of themself. Sometimes they become so eager they don’t wait for their army to fully form and attack regardless. This most often leads to their greatest failures and the occasional complete rank drop. They hate when they do it, but they never notice until too late.
They’ve witnessed forgotten groups they played with for ages fall into shambles. They know they only talked to these people about strategy and the game, but it felt nice to be listened to. They didn’t shame them for being this interested in the game, in fact some even shared their enthusiasm, yet eventually one would leave, then another, and then even more until it was just Marcy. They were always left alone in the guild, too caught up in the vague hope they all would magically come back again and they would return to past glory and friendships.
It never happened. Everybody always left them alone. It almost seemed to be a fact of life, really.
A master RTS player wouldn’t make stupid, careless mistakes, lose as frequently as they did, or be so caught up in melancholic sentiment that they ruin their gaming experience.
—
Straight A student, except for gym. What’s the purpose of gym anyways? To torture them personally? To ruin their perfect GPA? So what if Marcy can’t run laps as fast as Anne or Sasha can, some people just weren’t built for running!
In hindsight a B in a middle school gym class probably isn’t all that important but it still worked Marcy into a tizzy over the semantics.
Speaking of, spiraling into a deep state of self loathing after the singular B probably wasn’t particularly rational either. It’s just that ever since they were young their parents had always put a great stress on them to do well in school or they would be stuck in debt, or end up like them, a darker part of them suggests.
“A 94 on a spelling test, really Marcy? I know you’re better than this.”
Their father spoke with such venom it etched itself into Marcy’s mind and body, forever burning with the agony any perceived failure brings. He forced them to sit down at the table and review every single word that they’d had a test on.
They were only 8 years old .
They were in 4th grade.
“What made you think getting an 89 on this quiz was allowed?”
Their mother spat with such anger you’d be forgiven for thinking Marcy had done drugs. It was a pop quiz, with several questions seemingly made up on the spot and hardly relevant to last week’s lesson.
They can’t even sputter out the context before she issues punishment. She’s like some cosmic judge, forever bent on causing them disproportionate suffering for minuscule mistakes.
“You will not hang out with Anne or that Sasha girl for two weeks and you’ll be barred from technology for a week. Now go upstairs and don’t come back down until dinner.”
Marcy knows better than to argue, resistance brings nothing but harsher punishments and only serves to fan the flames of guilt.
They were 10 years old.
Their grandmother died last month.
——
Marcy Wu, Chief Ranger of the Newtopian Night Guard?
They were given that title by a delusional tyrant determined to use and manipulate them to his own twisted ends.
A tyrant that gave them empty flattery to improve their lacking confidence, a listening ear to betray them using their deepest insecurities and regrets against them, and to assassinate their character in front of a public audience.
They remember the day they were promoted vividly and it was one of the best days of their life.
Was.
When Marcy steps through the large coral doors into the elegant, spacious throne room they are immediately put off by how many people are standing at attention.
Thrice the usual amount of guards, several nobles, well known court members, including Lady Olivia. Olivia’s the only one they’ve interacted with on a somewhat personal level, so they notice her hesitant smile instantly.
They can’t help but shrink into themself once all of those gazes are turned onto them.
“Ah Marcy there you are! I’m glad you could make it to this meeting on such short notice.”
Marcy’s never been sure as to why the King of Amphibia had always been so mild mannered. He acts like it’s a pleasure to meet you instead of the other way around. They should have noticed sooner.
I guess some people are truly that benevolent, they muse. As if.
“It is my honor my liege! Though may I inquire as to what this meeting is about?” Marcy asks hesitantly and hopes that nobody noticed. They hoped that nobody noticed them period, but that was too much to ask for.
“Well we’ve been discussing your work as a ranger and-“
Panic immediately sets in as they mentally review every minuscule mistake they’ve ever made in the past few months.
Oh god it’s because they were a minute late from the allotted time on their most recent mission. The time a village was almost destroyed before they were able to subdue that Herron.
He’s going to kick them out of the palace and take away their title.
Nonono that’s all they have here! They don’t want to be alone.
They begin sweating and fidgeting with their hands awaiting his next words.
“We’ve decided that-
Here it comes. They close their eyes awaiting the coming impact.
“You’ve been promoted to Chief Ranger of the Newtopian Night Guard!” They king finally finishes.
Marcy opens their eyes and stares at him blankly in shock. Now they wish he had fired them and sent them off into the woods. It would’ve hurt them and many others less.
“R-Really?”
“Of course Marcy! Your work here has been some of the best I’ve seen in all my centuries!”
Marcy can’t help but beam at this new development. They now frown at how easy it was for them to fall for this.
“Thank you An-I mean my King!”
“It’s nothing, really. Now take the rest of the day off to celebrate! You deserve it kiddo.” He says with a reassuring smile on his face. The smile that now haunts their worst nightmares.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” The young newly Chief Ranger can’t help but shout in joy as they run out of the throne room to their own quarters within the castle. They regret being grateful for anything he did.
Sure they’d gotten praise from some locals about the bridge and other miscellaneous work they’d done around the city but this? It’s one of the highest possible positions for them to achieve!
The king himself is proud of them and it’s all they’ve ever wanted. They wish they could forget how they genuinely sought his praise.
It was all they ever wanted.
—
What used to be badges of honor that emboldened them were now tarnished with disgusting stains of trauma, regret, and self loathing.
Marcy Wu, head of an incompetent, failure of a chess club that’s only good for disappointing one of the most important people that’s ever been in their life.
Marcy Wu, who makes avoidable, careless mistakes and gets unhealthily attached to people in all RTS games.
Marcy Wu, a failure of a student who only excels at disappointing others around them.
Marcy Wu, who didn’t become Chief Ranger because of actual merit, but because of an insane madman’s fixation on building them up and then sending them plummeting to the ground for his own enjoyment.
Marcy Wu, incompetent leader, maker of careless mistakes, disappointment, and naive child.
Marcy Wu, holder of empty titles.