Chapter Text
It was a slow day at Eden, especially for the first years. Their tests had just ended, and there wasn’t much happening in their classes. During lunch, Connie, Alice and Meg watched as Anya and Becky played ‘Rock, Paper, and Scissors’ in the garden. Unfortunately for Becky, Anya was flooring her.
“Tsk, tsk, Becky,” laughed Connie. “You can’t win. Anya has been blessed by ghosts. She is invincible!”
Anya snickered. She knew Connie was trying to rile up the other girls.
Becky scowled as she played the next round. Anya won each time. Best of 3. Best of 5. Best of 7. Best of 9.
“Noooooo! How are you always winning, Anya?” cried Becky. “You MUST be cheating!”
Anya laughed. “So, we are watching the Spy Wars movie this Sunday, right?”
Becky pouted.
Sorry, Becky, thought Anya. This is for the greater good. I can’t watch one more Berlint in Love movie.
“Maybe it’s because Anya knows you so well?” said Alice. “After all, she is literally your best friend. Why don’t I play?”
Becky huffed as she exchanged places with Alice.
“What does Anya get if she defeats you?” asked Becky.
“I don’t know? Bragging rights?”
No, thought Anya. I can’t keep cheating. This is just a game. I will play this honestly. I can read Becky’s mind to tune out Alice.
“How about this cookie?” asked Meg, placing it between them. “It’s supposed to be my snack today, but I hate peanut butter.”
Anya's jaw dropped, and Becky laughed at her expression.
“How can anyone hate peanut butter!”
Alice grinned at Anya. “The winner gets the cookie?”
“Okie-dokie!”
Two moves later, Anya devoured the cookie, paying no attention to the astounded and amused expressions of her classmates.
“I told you. Anya is blessed. The Eden ghosts want her to win,” said Connie in a conspiratorial tone.
From a few benches away, Damian snorted. Connie and her ghosts! He thought. Since when do ghosts provide blessings?
The game had attracted the attention of their classmates, who wanted to play against Anya. The promise of various desserts launched the premise of right and wrong out the window. Anya merrily defeated opponent after opponent, amassing a small pile of cookies, toffees, and cakes.
“Look at her, lapping up the attention,” said Emile. “But how is she doing it?”
“Yeah, even though it is Stubby Legs,” said Ewen, “that is quite impressive.”
Damian had a theory.
Soon, Anya had drawn a small crowd. Many wished to defeat her, and some simply wanted to play with the Eden RPS Master. Entranced by the idea of even more desserts, Anya got carried away. She couldn’t remember why she was reluctant to use her powers to win the schoolyard game.
She concentrated on the mind of her opponent, trying to drown out the audience she’d garnered.
Is she reading people? Damian thought. Maybe she can read microexpressions that others can’t see. Like Poker.
He couldn’t see these microexpressions himself, but he did observe the intensity with which she stared at her opponents. He also noticed that Anya was always a few milliseconds behind her opponent; every time, without fail.
She’s either predicting their move based on hand movements or their facial expressions. Her game is essentially reactive. If one can switch mid-move, they could defeat her. But I don’t need to prove that to anyone. Why should I taint my reputation by playing with her?
He tuned out the game, concentrating on his own conversation about their Social Science project.
Damian was successful till he heard the smarmy Prince.
“It would be an honour to play with you, Milady. And even if you defeat me, being conquered by you would be a matter of glory.”
Damain gnashed his teeth. “There is no way the 1922 Convention was irrelevant!”
“Uh, bossman, you okay?” asked Emile. “You look like you’re trying to break your jaw.”
“No, I am just saying that Mark McHarold couldn’t have–”
Prince Tertius’ voice grated in his ears. “Oh, you picked rock, Milady. Alas, I picked scissors.”
Shut up! He thought. Why can’t they all shut up? Playing childish games!
“Oh, Milady. Your esteem only rises in my eyes. May I present to you this chocolate-chip, peanut-butter, vanilla-caramel cookie as a token of my defeat and admiration?”
“Hey, Anya! Is it my turn next?” asked Freddy cheerily.
Damian pushed himself onto his feet.
“Bossman?”
Emile and Ewen exchanged glances and followed him as he stalked towards the centre of the game.
“I challenge you, shrimp! I can’t let these victories get to your head. Best of 5?”
“You’re on, Sy-on boy!” responded Anya smugly.