Chapter 29: Four-Man Team, Five-Player Game
In the living room, intense electronic sound effects interwoven with the men's shouts filled the space with restless focus.
The screen flashed intensely with the visuals of Halo 3. Energy weapons sliced through the air of the virtual battlefield, and explosions erupted one after another.
Leonard, David, Howard, Raj, and Sheldon were squeezed onto the couch, staring intently at the screen. Controllers clicked rapidly in their hands.
Since the split-screen multiplayer mode of Halo 3 only supports a maximum of four players, and Sheldon vehemently refused any form of "solo play" or "free-for-all"—which he considered a desecration of the game's teamwork essence and "unconstructive chaotic behavior"—the five reached a compromise: a rotation system.
After each match, the player with the fewest kills would be temporarily "benched," and the waiting person would substitute in.
"Flank! Flank! David, the right corridor needs suppressing fire!" Leonard shouted urgently while nimbly controlling the Master Chief to take cover.
"I'm on it! Sheldon, your Plasma Rifle is overheating, switch to burst fire!" David calmly replied, simultaneously throwing a Plasma Grenade with precision, blowing up an Elite trying to flank them.
"My weapon management is none of your concern! Worry about your own shield capacity—it's already below forty percent!" Sheldon retorted sharply, his fingers flying across the controller.
Howard attempted a maneuver he thought was "spectacular," but was instantly headshot by a Sniper Rifle bullet from across the map, and his screen went gray.
"Damn it! How did they know I was coming out there?" He pounded the couch cushion in frustration.
Raj, due to nervousness, made frequent operational errors, spending most of his time either respawning or running, firmly placing him at the bottom of the kill count.
Just as the intense match was in full swing, and Leonard's squad, led by David, had just reversed the disadvantage and was preparing to launch a full assault on the enemy base, the apartment door was pushed open with a click, and Penny poked her head in.
"Oh, hey, Penny. Come on in." Leonard said casually, his eyes glued to the screen, his fingers still busy on the controller.
"Hey, guys." Penny walked in, a hint of fatigue and irritation on her face.
Howard glanced up mid-action and recited in a tone he thought was witty but was actually creepy: "See a Penny, pick her up, and all day long you'll have good luck."
"No, you won't." Sheldon poured cold water on him without looking back, his entire focus fixed on the energy readings on screen.
Ignoring Howard's sleazy tone, Penny sighed and asked helplessly, "Uh... can I hide out here for a while?"
"Of course. What's wrong?" Leonard finally diverted his attention slightly and looked at her with concern.
"Ugh, it's Christie, a friend from back home in Nebraska."
Penny started venting, "I don't know how she got my number, but she called and asked, 'How's California?' What else could I say? 'It's great!' you know, better than Omaha anyway. The next second, she decided on her own to come crash at my place."
She rolled her eyes and continued, "She just arrived today and has been yapping non-stop in my apartment, talking about every single guy she's hooked up with in Omaha—which is basically all the guys in Omaha—and she's washing the nastiest pile of underwear I've ever seen in my bathroom sink!"
Upon hearing this, Howard immediately put down his controller, turned around, and asked in a tone somewhere between academic inquiry and lewd curiosity: "Was she... washing them one piece at a time, or did she throw everything in together... like some sort of... lingerie soup?"
Leonard and David simultaneously wore expressions of profound discomfort.
Leonard whispered to David, "He really needs professional help." David nodded in agreement: "Seriously."
Penny was disgusted by Howard's phrasing and snapped, "It's gross, whatever it is!"
"If you don't like Christie, why are you letting her stay?" Leonard asked while maneuvering his character to respawn.
Penny sighed, her expression complicated. "Well, she was engaged to my cousin, but she also hooked up with my brother... so, she's technically... family!"
"Good Lord! Since we have these sordid tales about the 'Omaha Slut' to listen to, who needs to play Halo?" Sheldon suddenly interjected in an exaggerated, theatrical tone, even as his character charged forward on screen.
"Oh, I don't think she's a slut." Penny instinctively defended her "family member."
"But on the other hand, she clearly has zero standards whatsoever. One time she was..." Penny paused, apparently recalling a detail, then suddenly realized something and looked around, "Where did Howard go?"
Everyone looked closely and saw that Howard had long since dropped his controller. His character stood motionless on screen due to lack of input, was instantly hit by enemy fire, and his health bar plummeted to zero.
"Howard Wolowitz!" Sheldon's scream nearly pierced everyone's eardrums. He angrily pointed at the screen, "He abandoned his tactical position! He compromised our formation integrity! He is betraying the team! This hormone-driven traitor!"
However, Howard was completely oblivious to Sheldon's rage, as he was already across the hall in Penny's apartment, offering "friendly" greetings to the "Omaha Slut," Christie.
Sheldon was trembling with fury at this point, about to launch into a lengthy lecture about the relative importance of teamwork versus individual impulse, triggered by the reduction in squad size and Howard's "desertion."
Just then, Raj, who'd been benched for having the lowest score in the previous match, quickly picked up the controller Howard had dropped, instantly taking over the motionless, nearly dead character, shouting, "I'll sub in! I'll sub in! Sheldon, look, the team's complete! Let's keep going!"
Just like that, Sheldon's "emotional volcano," which was on the verge of eruption, was extinguished by Raj's timely substitution.
Seeing that Raj had filled the position in time and the team structure was preserved, Sheldon reluctantly withdrew the words he was preparing to hurl like verbal daggers.
However, he still glared fiercely in the direction of the opposite apartment, snorted, and grudgingly pulled his attention back to the game, though he continued to mutter discontentedly: "Unreliable! Extremely unreliable! Howard Wolowitz must be blacklisted from the next team activity!"
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