Chapter 6: Proving Myself
I was pissed. So I started streaming live from my dorm, even aiming the camera at my hands on the keyboard and mouse.
I wanted to clear my name—no overlays, no mystery programs, just me and my hardware. I even put a mirror behind me to show my whole setup. My hands shook as I went live, the viewer count shooting up faster than ever before.
Maybe because of that viral video, my stream blew up fast.
I hit 10k viewers in under an hour. The Twitch chat was a waterfall of emotes and accusations.
But the chat was full of people spamming that I was cheating.
Half of them were Big Dandelion fans, the rest just curious. "Show us your Task Manager!" "Take your hands off the mouse!" "No way this guy’s legit."
I ignored them and focused on the game.
I took a deep breath, put on my headset, and queued up for ranked. I refused to let the mob get in my head.
On the map Wild Maze City, I was on offense. During prep, I switched to a smoke grenade and lined up a spot on the wall.
My hands moved with practiced confidence, setting up the perfect one-way smoke. I called out the strat to my random teammates—most ignored me, probably too busy reading chat.
As soon as the round started, I jump-threw the smoke with left click.
The arc was perfect. The smoke landed just right, blocking the enemy’s line of sight. I heard a few impressed whistles from my chat.
This smoke instantly blocked the mid VIP line, so defenders couldn’t get info.
It was a move I’d watched pros pull off in tournaments. Now, chat argued if it was a scripted cheat or just muscle memory.
I used the gap to rush to sandbags at mid-long, called for a teammate to smoke the archway, then popped a self-flash and stormed B short.
My adrenaline spiked as I dashed through the gap, trusting my timing. My teammate finally threw his smoke—barely on target, but good enough.
Instantly, I fragged the defender holding close, then took out another hiding in B site.
Each kill felt clean and deliberate. The reticle never left their heads. I could hear my heart pounding in my headphones.
We took B site clean.
The plant was easy. For a split second, my chat actually cheered.
While waiting for the retake, I held supermarket, cutting off the enemy rotation.
I lined up the angle, ready for the push. The chat spammed predictions—half said I’d whiff, the other half called for a ban.
With a smooth spray transfer, I got another ace.
It happened in a blur: three headshots in under a second, my teammates howling in disbelief on voice.
End of round, I was the clear MVP.
The game announcer said, “MVP: 269,” and my name flooded the killfeed. My viewer count shot up again.
Chat exploded:
[Honestly, this guy actually seems legit.]
One guy posted a slow-mo breakdown, trying to prove I was human.
[It’s all staged, you guys actually buy this?]
The doubters were relentless, even as the evidence piled up.
[Don’t you know there are cheats for utility throws now?]
The conspiracy theorists got louder.
[This guy’s 100% cheating, no doubt.]
The mods could barely keep up.
I just sneered and kept grinding.
My lips curled in a half-smirk. Let them talk—I was too busy climbing the ranks.
After a day of play, I breezed my way to A+ rank.
I snapped a screenshot and sent it to my group chat. “A+ in one night. Who’s next?”
But the chat was still full of haters.
No matter how well I played, the mob wanted blood. I learned to tune them out, focusing only on my next match.
That Big Dandelion started mocking me even harder, saying he’d already reported me to the devs.
He posted clip after clip, ramping up the drama. "Sooner or later, we’ll see who’s real."
My account was quickly banned.
The ban hammer came down with a generic email: “Suspicious Activity Detected.” I stared at my monitor in disbelief.
"Someone go tell that 269 guy on his stream."
The chat spammed Ls and clown emojis. Even my friends sent me condolence texts.
"If he really wants to prove himself, let him meet me offline."
Big Dandelion was live, calling me out directly, challenging me in front of 100k viewers.
"If he can prove he’s legit, I’ll pay his round-trip fare—and throw in an extra ten grand."
I almost laughed at the offer. A free trip to Chicago, plus cash? Sounded like an easy W if I could pull it off.
Was this the end of my run, or just the start of something bigger?
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