It was devastating.
'Vitality, man. Fucking vitality,' the team repeated to themselves that night. Even Boaster, who would usually retire to his advanced scrim simulation machine to strategise, stood in grief with his fellow players. Every FNC member was in a dark place that day.
Except for one...
Sylvain Pattyn awoke in a strange place. The lights were soft, the air smelled sterile yet pleasant, and the room around him was neat and clean. He knew he couldn't be in the hospital where he'd last fallen asleep, and judging by the cleanliness of his surroundings, he couldn't possibly be in Berlin.
'That is right, my friend.'
A voice sounded from behind just as Veqaj regained control of his body. He sat up and turned to look.
There stood a tall, masked man with a gravelly voice dripping with money and unmistakably French. And had he just read Veqaj's mind?
'That's right, Sylv- ah, Veqaj, I did in fact just read your mind, and again now. I cannot tell you my name, but I can tell you what is going to happen next..."
Vegaj suddenly became aware of an indescribable sensation. He looked down and—
"As you can see, your body—more particularly your arms—look slightly different to how they used to."
Indeed they did. Metal strips now ran along his arms, accompanied by all sorts of vents, rivets and lights. They felt fine, just... different somehow.
'For the past five years, I have endeavoured to bring the French nation into a new era of esports. Of course, having seen our current talent, I realised that honest training would not be sufficient. No offence, but instead I delved into the world of cybernetic augmentations to skip the whole arbitrary process of scouting the next 15-year-old prodigy with lightning in his wrists. I wanted to give that lightning to the smart, decisive and relentless.'
Veqaj was beginning to understand. His new arms felt smoother than before and moving them felt effortless and almost robotic.
'But for all those years, the technology failed. Not only did the implants fail to improve the subjects, they made them worse, along with that: criminally insane and toxic. We had to release them into ranked servers and pray that nobody would catch on to what we were doing. At least that worked.
I had almost given up, but when you emerged as a potential final attempt, I'm afraid I could not resist. But it has paid off!"
The man approached Veqaj and prodded his arm.
'This absolute marvel on your limbs is my magnum opus! Movement algorithms, muscle control systems and even sinew from the greatest aimer there was — Aspas himself — sampled through our BioMaterial Stealing Table from our friends at Riot Games. Now you will aim even better than he did, and with your faculties at their best, you will be the greatest VALORANT player, a French player! On one condition..."
Veqaj braced himself. Whatever this shady man wanted in return, it couldn't be good.
'I want you to return to Gentle Mates.'
That was worse than he had thought!
Veqaj begged and pleaded with the man to change the terms - anywhere but M8s, not again!
The man smiled.
'Perhaps I may reconsider if you can win Fnatic a trophy. I may be able to pull some strings and rehome Fnatic instead of just you.'
Veqaj agreed.
And so veqaj returned to Fnatic, and carried them to that trophy.
Playoffs lower bracket? Light work. London groups? No problem, smooth sailing to Grand final? Not even a concern.
But as veqaj stood on stage with his Fnatic family, he couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. Was it really worth all this? Sending Fnatic to the awful fate of becoming a french organisation just so he could stay with his team? Could he really stomp on the only good thing Brits could be proud to represent?
So as the man walked up behind him with an outragous check to hand to Fnatics executives, veqaj stopped him, and pulled off his fnatic jersey, to show his old m8s one underneath.
The man smiled in the same way he did before.
"Ah, a noble gesture Veqaj. I would have liked to have had such a talented organisation up my sleeve, but I am willing to accept this. Go now, celebrate with your team one last time, i will give you that much"
And veqaj spent his last night with Fnatic well. He was sent off with warm praise from his team, and went on to become the greatest regional merchant there ever was. M8 Veqaj, Aim god, Single Trophy Samson of EMEA, the true GOAT of valorant.
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