Hello. This is Part Four to StarCraft Six, and I hope you enjoy it as much as the others. It’s been fun writing this series, but I’m afraid this will probably be the last installment. I’ll try and create masterpieces like .praetor, and Drefsab, but I can’t hope to compete until I develop my writing further. Enjoy!

“So, men. What exactly do you want me to say to our executives? That we’ve hired a bunch of idiots that can’t even perform a simple defense operation from turning into utter destruction? Or, perhaps, I can tell them about your problems after you and I alike are killed.”

Oliver slowly made his way around the room. His eyes darted to and fro, trying to meet anyone’s stare so he may challenge them. All heads remained downwards, whether in shame or grief, no one but themselves knew.

The door to the dark room opened, bathing it in a fluorescent low for a brief few seconds.

“Hey, Oliver, you might want to check this out,” shouted another blue-collared worker.

Oliver went to the doorway, and took the exit. A group of loitering workers were busily swapping rumors about the Exodus server near the public water tank, or water hole as Oliver liked to refer to. The ones who knew his security clearance immediately looked at his direction, as Oliver made his way to the lounge.

Following him were StarCraft Six. They made their way through the thick throng of their “co-workers,” who equally stared at them. Only a few knew who they were, and most of them look with a disdainful stare at them. Dishonorable acts were what these men did for a living, they thought.

Finally making his way to the lounge, he shoved open the door in pure aggression. It responded with a loud slam, and he took a leather seat, facing directly to a large television. The blue-collared one was there.

“Just watch. They’ve been reporting it all morning long,” he exasperated.

“Good morning, America. The Internet Collapse was officially declared over by Federal officials as police took custody of an unknown hacker. Law enforcement has yet to release the young man’s name, but assure us that the crisis has ended. AOL CEO has said that he is ‘relieved to see an end to the chaos,’ and ‘hopes that everything will just go back to normal.’

“It seems as if things are going right back that way, as the greatest threat to the Internet has now subsided. The disaster, however, left Internet users stranded for five hectic days.

In this time, experts predict a network loss of fifty million dollars on the top 100 .com sites alone.”

Some idiot co-anchor said something about no pun intended, and the trio of reporters gave a chuckle. But Oliver just sat there, his temple pounding. He looked back, and saw that StarCraft Six had heard the news as well. They stared glumly around the room, not daring to stare him in his eyes.

Oliver looked up, with tears welling in his eyes.

“They’ll kill me. You know that? Nobody fails Blizzard twice.”

Hawk started mumbling about Star Wars Darth Vadar resemblances, but a cold stare by Drefsab chilled him.

“This facking bites,” cried out SixtyWatz.

“Yeah,” Slings offered.

StarCraft Six was a team falling apart. Barely a team for a few months, some members were losing their focus. Slings had fallen to the pits of Mech Warrior 4, Collsy had gone along with him, and GoZ and Hawk had decided to go live their lives together and showed up absent at morning call one day.

Recruiting was a joke, and WarLeaderJustin was ill-equipped to handle the brutality of close combat. Already, his mind had been warped into a shattered, cynical, and almost worthless one in terms of fighting.

Drefsab was the most depressed out of the sad bunch, however. Being the leader of a failure was shameful, and Blizzard had moved on. StarCraft Six’s funding was cut 75% and Blizzard reorganized itself to deal with Diablo II and WarCraft III support.

And Patch 1.08 still hadn’t come out.

It was an unusually warm day in December. Slings and Collsy decided to talk a scenic walk outside, and hand in hand, they left the building. Drefsab was busy playing chess online, his new hobby. Fox, Nobo, and Limp were still at it, playing StarCraft on a LAN connection.

WLJ had left to pursue another life after exclaiming how pitiful the situation was.

“Push, there you go, push!”

Slings held Collsy’s hand closely as the two raced along the narrow hallway, accompanied by a plethora of doctors and nurses. Collsy screamed in pain as she felt the Jr. Sling raising hell inside.

Drefsab and the what was left of StarCraft Six stood outside, in the waiting room, eagerly waiting to be told if it was a boy or a girl. Collsy had opted not to get a scan, and neither soon-to-be parents knew what they would receive.

The door opened, and Oliver walked in, stumbling towards Drefsab.

”Hello, Dref. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has, Oliver. Still working at Blizzard?”

“No. They left me off from the Exodus thing, said I did the best I could, but forced me into retirement. I’m heading off for security in a legal firm in Memphis. Tax firm, really.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

The two seated again, and quietly watched the hands of the clock tick. In a span of time that seemed forever, Nobo spoke up.

“Whatever happened to Davis, anyway, Oliver?”

“They killed him.”

“Really?”

“Hm, no. But they killed his spirit anyway. He’s now stationed in Brazil, working for Public Relations for WarCraft III. Specifically, he’s working his ass off for the public to openly accept a game like WarCraft III. They ban a lot of violent games down there, and a good PR team should get through their legal systems.”

“Yeah…”

Squeaky and Watz were staring at each, to pass the time, and Watz was straining his eyes. In a frame of a second, Watz batted them quickly, and Squeaky let out a small cry of winning.

The door swung open once more, and a strangely fimiliar fellow walked through the door.

“Justin?” asked Squeaky.

“Hey, Squeaky. How’s Collsy?”

“The doctor said she’d be in for a few more hours. What’re you doing here?”

“Just visiting some friends, Squeaky. How’s it been going?”

“Blizzard focused all their energy into WarCraft III after you left, Justin. StarCraft Six is no longer.”

“That’s a shame.”

A calmness settled around the room. For a few minutes, the only sound was the hands of the clock, announcing each second with a tock or a tick. Somebody yawned. Ten minutes passed. Somebody pulled out a magazine. Twenty minutes passed. Somebody put away a magazine. Thirty minutes had passed. Somebody cleared their throat. An hour passed.

Slings roared into the room.

“It’s a BOY!”

A loud uproar of cheer came from the group that only a few minutes before could have been confused with dead people. Slings was assaulted with a barrage of questions.

“Blue eyes!”

“Dark brown hair!”

“Looks just like his father!”

A couple hours later, the doctor permitted the guests to go and greet the new mother.

“Hey, Collsy, how are you,” asked Drefsab.

“Oh, hi Dref., completely exhausted. If I knew giving birth was this hard, I would’ve adopted.”

“Can I see the baby,” inquired Nobo.

“Oh, sure, Nobo.”

Collsy handed her newborn son to Nobo, and he gently held the small child.

“He’s beautiful,” whispered Nobo.

Drefsab and Oliver stood next to each other, keeping their distance from the mother.

“Dref, I came here for a reason.”

“Which would be?”

“Blizzard is interested in a leader that can be competent to lead a brave force of men and women.”

“For what?”

“WarCraft Six.”

Drefsab grinned at Oliver. Oliver rolled his eyes, and started nodding his head.

“I know, Jon, I know.”

“Jon, eh?”

“What’ll it be, Jon?”

“Oliver… I think I’m going to sleep on that.”

“You do that, Jon. You do that.”

The end. I hope you’ve had, at the very least, a decent read.

From yours truly,
WarLeaderJustin