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Chapter 278: Man, I Gotta Hit the Alps
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 13:01:09 +0000 UTC“Yo, I’m gonna need a shot of vibe energy to nail that trick…”
While Max Wheeler was hosting his virtual banquet across the globe, Octane was straight-up opening a buffet.
The Twitch scene’s “wildest speed demon,” Octane, had planned to grind points in Apex Legends’ new season. But Peak Nation dropped, and he ditched his old main like a bad habit, jetting to the Alps in-game without a second thought.
For a madlad chasing the ultimate rush, Peak Nation was pure catnip. Octane lived for sports games, but soccer and hoops? Too tame, too technical. Before Peak Nation, the closest he got to a real thrill was parkour in Titanfall.
Now? Peak Nation brought the heat—mountain biking, rock climbing, wingsuit soaring. Niche sports that pushed limits lit his soul on fire.
After sampling the buffet, Octane locked in on downhill skiing. Less weightless than biking, less intense than wingsuiting, but it demanded surgical leg control. Every bend, every muscle twitch, every knee angle could make or break the run.
At 130 km/h max speeds, you weren’t skiing—you were flying low. Every map had a hidden Peak Speed trophy: hit 250.7 km/h, the IRL record set by French skier F. Guitschell at the 2002 Utah Winter Olympics. That was just the ticket to the Peak Eight’s Ice Solidification challenge.
Sure, anyone could enter the Peak Eight for a $5 fee, but the Alps’ avalanche rappel wasn’t just a slide—it was outrunning a snow tsunami. Octane wasn’t about to half-ass it. He’d grind hard to crush that one-shot challenge.
Huff… He stood at the snow trail’s peak, exhaling. White snow stretched endless, a biting wind howling like it rolled in from the Arctic. Distant mountains loomed, a cold sun glaring behind them.
Octane stomped his skis, shaking snow off his gear. Chat buzzed—
“This game’s tech is next-level.”
“$101M budget, bro. Sekiro was under $200M.”
“Meanwhile, Torii: Phantom’s $200M+ went… where?”
“LMAO…”
“Real talk, Torii’s tech was solid for what it was.”
“C’mon, it’s a cat treadmill sim.”
“Bet that’s a Seattle coder’s joke, lol.”
“So close to nailing it!”
“360 backflip into a 720 spin? Even the 360 is wild.”
“Run it back!”
“Try again (×) Wipe again (√)”
“Sekiro’s ‘Shadows Die Twice’ is a vibe, but Peak Nation’s ‘Shadows Yeet Forever.’”
“Peak Nation: Shadows Wiped a Dozen Times.”
“Hahaha…”
With chat hyping him, Octane prepped. He flicked open the holographic UI, tuned the in-game radio to loop one track.
For Ya.
Swish— He pushed off with his poles, leaning into the slope. Snowflakes swirled as he shot down.
[All good things come for you]
[My love also comes for you]
[Baby, this is my gift to you]
[I just want to hide you in my heart…]
His body moved like a wolf on ice, carving through the snow. Wind drowned the rustling snow, speed climbing—60 km/h, 80, 100, 150…
Crunch— He hit a near-40-degree slope, launching into a 360 backflip, landing clean with a whoop. Nothing could catch him. Except freedom.
If Octane picked the century’s greatest invention, the IndieVibe X2 cabin would win. And the MVP of cabin tech? WindyPeak Games, no contest.
With For Ya pumping, his soul and body broke free.
“150 km/h! What the—!”
“160!”
“Yo, he’s crouching to cut wind resistance!”
“What?!”
“No way… this game sims wind resistance?”
“For real, his speed’s way up this run!”
“WindyPeak’s insane!”
“They built what we dreamed and what we didn’t.”
“Such a flex!”
“Octane’s pushing 200 km/h!”
“Heavy snow slopes incoming!”
He blazed faster, a green arrow in his Power Boy-style snowsuit. Snowflakes trailed as he soared over a slope, pulling a backflip. The white powder formed wings, flapping in slow motion.
Flight. At 200 km/h, Octane broke gravity’s grip, soaring through the Alps.
180… 360… 480… 720!
Thump— He landed, adrenaline hitting like a shot to the heart. The double backflip was flawless, the UI’s action score glowing gold.
Another slope loomed. Swish— He leaped, snow swirling into a vortex. The song faded, buzzing in his hyped-up brain—
[Liking you is my secret]
[The depth is like being 100,000 meters under the sea]
[I appreciate the tranquility of sunrise and sunset]
[I love the sky and I also love you deeply—]
In the snowy Alps, his free soul spun, dancing a defiant waltz.
Chat held its breath. One spin… two…
The UI score blazed. Then—
Crunch— Snow sprayed. Octane shot out, poles raised, screaming, “YEEEES! YEEEES!”
“Oh my God! I did it! Double 720, baby!”
Boom— Chat exploded.
Double 720 at 200 km/h—beyond standard moves. The score burned with passion, cheering Octane’s name.
“OHHHHH—”
“Insane!!”
“GOATed!!”
“Double 720 is nuts!”
“God closed a door but yeeted the roof off for this dude.”
“Apex hunt champ, now this? Five tries for a double 720?!”
“Wild!”
Octane’s heart rate spiked, chat went feral, and real-money tips flooded.
The high was unreal. Last time he screamed like this was his first Apex Legends Defender’s Summit win.
But—BAM!
A crash. His body went numb. The screen blackened. He ragdolled, staring at a cedar tree 100 meters from the finish.
Octane: …
Chat: …
Ten seconds of silence. Then—laughter.
“Hahaha!”
“Gus Harper’s evil, man…”
“A tree right before the finish? LMAO.”
“One. Single. Tree.”
“Popping champagne at halftime vibes.”
“Gus: Don’t celebrate early, fool.”
“Stupid tree!”
“Gus is smirking somewhere.”
Octane’s roar shook the stream: “Fuuuuck! Gus, you dog! A tree? There?!”
He popped open his IndieVibe X2 cabin, hopped out on his prosthetics, and shook the right one—Gus Harper’s signature scrawled on the carbon fiber. “You put that tree there on purpose?! My double 720! Pay me back my trophy, you—!”
His unhinged rant filled the stream with “LOL,” “wwww,” and pure chaos. Halftime champagne vibes maxed the energy.
Meanwhile, in a Seattle hospital ward, a kid in a gown clutched his phone, grinning. Winter sunlight lit his gaunt face, chemo’s toll clear.
He lifted his net cap, scratched his bald head, and tapped a comment into Octane’s stream:
SuperCat: Man, I gotta hit the Alps…
A ding—his buddy messaged:
[Davy: Yo, how you feeling?]
[SuperCat: Better, like a final burst of energy.]
[Davy: Lmao, 6.]
[SuperCat: Out tomorrow.]
[Davy: I’ll pick you up.]
[SuperCat: Nah, fam’s enough chaos.]
[Davy: Day after, I’m there.]
[SuperCat: Bet. Push me out, we’ll vibe together.]
[Davy: Pizza or wings?]
[SuperCat: Peak Nation. Check it. I’ll gift you a copy. Practice, then coach me.]
[Davy: For real, boss?]
[SuperCat: Word’s bond!]
[Davy: Can’t back out now!]
[SuperCat: Heard the Peak Eight’s IRL shoot is nuts.]
[Davy: Ojbk, we’ll hit it when you’re good.]
[SuperCat: Deal!]
Davy stared at the screen, eyes misty, then locked his phone. His reflection showed red eyes.
SuperCat was leaving the hospital, but not because he was cured. His terminal illness had ravaged him for 15 months. When treatments failed, he sensed the truth despite everyone’s silence.
He chose to leave the sterile despair, to reclaim his life, to embrace the world one last time.
