The next blackout came right on time.
Ts Danger sat in the dim glow of his phone screen, sipping the last of his lukewarm tea while replaying the match in his mind. The teabaggers. The clutch. The message: "Yo. You stream?"
That one question hadn't left his head.
Streaming wasn't new to him. He watched the pros every day—how they bantered with fans, made money from donations, got sponsored by energy drinks and gaming brands. It looked easy.
But Ts knew better. Behind every "overnight success" was a grind no one watched.
His phone buzzed.
Yogesh (NetCafé Owner):
"Yo Danger. That 'Platinum' title real or fake? 😂"
"Come play at the shop today. Got a 1v1 bet match. 300 rupees if you win. Crowd might show."
Ts didn't reply. He just got up, packed his mouse into his old schoolbag, and left the house.
The NetZone café was five blocks away, wedged between a pharmacy and a pawn shop. It smelled like sweat, old plastic, and stale chips—but to Ts, it was sacred ground.
Inside, a few teenagers hovered around the central PC bay. Yogesh, the stocky café owner, waved him over with a smirk. "TS DANGER! The lag-legend himself."
"Who's the opponent?"
Yogesh nodded toward the back booth.
A boy with bleached hair and wireless headphones sat in a recliner seat, arms folded. His name: RAYZR—one of the loudest, cockiest local streamers with a small but growing online following.
"You'll be 1v1-ing him on stream," Yogesh said. "Loser walks. Winner gets 300 and the replay rights."
Rayzr didn't even look up. "Low-rank players should stick to ranked. This is the real game."
Ts sat down quietly.
The match began: 10 rounds, same map, no teammates—just skill.
At first, Rayzr dominated. Flick shots. Peeks. Crowd cheers. He was aggressive, taunting mid-game, hyping his own chat stream.
But Ts? Silent. Watching. Adapting.
By Round 5, the tide turned.
Rayzr peeked wide. Boom—headshot. Tried a fake rotation—denied. Double kill—flawless.
The café grew quiet.
Final round. Ts clutched the win with 1 HP left. The screen flashed:
WINNER: TS DANGER — 6-4
Rayzr yanked off his headset. "Whatever. You got lucky."
Yogesh grinned and handed Ts three crisp ₹100 notes. "You should stream, bro. That was savage."
Ts stared at the screen. He saw the small webcam box in the top corner. Rayzr's stream had 89 live viewers.
Maybe it was time to stop being invisible.
That night, Ts created his Twitch profile:Username: @TsDangerLiveBio: "No sponsors. No gear. Just skills."
He stared at the big "Start Streaming" button.
And finally, he clicked it.