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The Interview

I found this comment on a YouTube video about interviewers acting creepily to women, and thought this scenario screamed a certain couple. For the record, the woman in the video defended herself. 😊

@bashfulgnome @shitpost-it-tristan @royalwalnutmoths @have-thumb-candy @askrenathefriendlydoe @wtellmemontseimsilly @batunatu @cartoonygothopossum

It had been a long, draining day of bug-busting in Hero’s Duty, and Sergeant Calhoun’s soldiers wanted nothing more than to drink themselves into a root-beer-induced oblivion at Tapper’s.

Private Sparks took off her helmet and shook her mane of messy curls as she marched in step with the male members of the cohort, all of whom had shed their own headgear as well.

She could sense that the eyes of every character in Game Central Station were fixed on her. She was thankful the chunky armor she wore hid her shapely body from view, but the pouf of hair on her head still made her stick out like a sore thumb among the receding hairlines of most of her colleagues.

She tried not to let the weird looks get to her. After all, it wasn’t like the characters had anything against her—they were just confused on how a fancy-schmancy girl like her got tangled up in battling bugs with the boys. Cyndra couldn’t blame them—she still pinched herself from time to time to ensure she’d really made it into Calhoun’s esteemed corps.

All of a sudden, the soldiers were interrupted in their march by a dark blue blur whizzing past them. When the blur slowed down and appeared in front of the troops, it revealed itself not as Sonic or Fix-It Felix, but as a teenaged boy wearing a blue sweatshirt, piloting a bike weighed down with a hefty bag of newspapers.

“Hi there!” The young man said with a cheerful wave. “Paperboy at your service.” He reached into his bag of newspapers and pulled out a large, messy notepad and a stub of a pencil. “I’ve been waiting to catch you guys!”

“What’s all this hooey about?” Kersavage growled. “We’re trying to get to Tapper’s, kid, so vamoose.”

“Oh, pipe down, you old snot-rag!” Cyndra snapped back at him. “He seems like a nice boy!” She added under her breath, but loud enough for her nemesis to hear, “He could give some people here some lessons.”

“I run the Game Central Connection—that’s our newspaper,” Paperboy piped up, his explanation luckily diverting Kersavage’s attention before he could warn Cyndra that he wasn’t afraid to go back to prison. “I don’t just deliver it, I write and print it, too. No rest for this guy!”

“So you want to interview us?” Markowski asked.

“I’ve been dying to get the scoop on you guys ever since Litwak plugged you in! We haven’t had this much excitement around here since RoadBlasters went down back in ‘87.” Paperboy squealed. “If y’all don’t mind, could I join you at Tapper’s?”

“I don’t see why not,” Loya said, and the rest of the party (save Kersavage, still nursing his wounded pride) gave enthusiastic nods of assent.

The troop trooped off to Tapper’s once more, with the boy on the bike leading the way. Soon they were seated at a counter—taking up nearly the entire width of the room—with Paperboy perched on a stool in the center.

Van Pelt did his usual wave to Tapper, who slid mugs of root beer to the corps as he always did. As the cups clinked against each other, Paperboy pulled his pencil from behind his ear and turned his notepad to a new page.

“So, what’s it like being humanity’s last hope, like your sarge says?” he asked, first looking to Corporal Kohut for an answer.

“It’s a tremendous honor,” the Corporal explained, “being a part of something so big. It’s not just a game—we’ve got a duty to protect every character in this arcade from those bugs, and from any other dangers.”

“Have you had any rescues yet?” Paperboy inquired of Marco.

“Well, Sarge took care of the Sugar Rush invasion,” the soldier replied, “and did a darn good job. She didn’t even need us,” he added with a hint of jealousy.

“What do you do when the day’s over?” Van Pelt was the next soldier to get a question from the young reporter.

“Usually a couple of us go and check the perimeters, make sure there’s no stray eggs, and then we head to Tapper’s.” Van Pelt chortled. “The guy knows us pretty well now.” He gestured to the bartender, who was leaning against a counter, glaring at them with one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “See, he loves us!”

“How is the Sarge to all of you? Is she nice?”

This question was directed to Markowski, who cringed, looking around at the other soldiers who all knew they were damned whatever way they answered.

“N-next question…” Markowski stammered.

Finally, Paperboy’s gaze fell on Cyndra, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Maybe now all the weird looks would stop. If Paperboy saw her as part of the corps, then so could everyone else.

But then Paperboy asked his question.

“How do you keep that hair looking so awesome?”

Cyndra felt her face flush. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. She grimaced and began to answer with a sigh.

“Well…I…”

But her answer was interrupted near instantly.

“It’s that zero-gravity!” Markowski boomed, running a hand over his shaven head. “Works wonders on these locks.”

Paperboy, a bit confused, turned to Loya for his next question, and Cyndra turned to her boyfriend and smiled, punching him in the shoulder.

“Quick thinking, Hold ‘Em. I owe you one.”

“My pleasure, Sparkster.” Markowski ruffled her curls. “I would like to know the answer to that, though…”

Cyndra rested her head on his shoulderplate and gave him a warm smile. “Permission granted, private.”

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