Savor that memory. Cling to it. And console yourself with the incredible gift I’m about to give you—part 2 of “The Kumite Except for Video Games and Also It’s Real.”

CHAPTER 11 THE KUMITE EXCEPT FOR VIDEO GAMES AND ALSO IT’S REAL

Part Two: The Champions Club, Baby!

All right, so in case you need a reminder—who are we kidding, of course you need a reminder—here goes:

I’d flown to Hong Kong to compete in the greatest, most ancient, most cutthroat video game tournament in the world, like this actual Kumite of video games called KEFVGAAIR. It was held by this shadowy, mysterious network of super-criminals called the Brotherhood—generic, I know—and I got pissed off, kinda lost my patience a little, which I do sometimes, so naturally I insulted their one-handed diabolical leader, Lord Hannn, in front of the entire arena.

Like, I called this loser out, okay? Totally showed him up.

So it was a few hours later, and I was feeling pretty good about myself, because I’d really made a great first impression. My guide, Carl the Hunchback, was showing me to my luxury suite, and suddenly I spotted the Nigerian champion, Just Plain Usman, gesturing at me through the cracked door of a secret double-agent spy room.

Or maybe it was just a janitor’s closet. I had to find out.

“Um, you go on without me, Carl the Hunchback,” I said. “I’ll catch up to you in a sec. I’ve got to, uh, look at… something… around… here.”

He rolled his eyes and kept walking.

“All right, Just Plain Usman,” I said. “I’m getting, like, strong secret double-agent spy vibes from you. So what’s the deal, man? And why the hell are you wearing sandals with socks?”

“Doc,” he said, “I’m part of a secret international organization of double-agent hero spies that’s been trying to infiltrate the Brotherhood for centuries. The earliest known socks, dating from 300 AD, were excavated from Oxyrhynchus and had a split toe designed for sandals. Socks were invented for sandals—why are you wearing socks without sandals?”

“All right,” I said, “what’s your organization called?”

“Well,” Just Plain Usman said, clearing his throat, “we’re also called the Brotherhood.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” I shouted. “What is wrong with all you secret international organizations? Is it that hard to come up with an awesome name?”

“Look,” he sighed. “I’ve been trying to get it changed ever since I became a member, okay? But there’s a lot of red tape in these secret international organizations! It takes five meetings just to agree on an agenda, our Slack channel is an absolute mess. I’ve had to refile my proposal for our new name five separate times, in triplicate, but the registrar keeps losing the documentation…”

“So what is it?” I said. “Your pitch for the new name?”

“The Other Brotherhood.”