A knock rings out on the door. Once, twice. The man tosses the doll over to his desk, only barely missing the trashcan that Icefrog would have put it in, and rushes to answer. He cracks the chained door open, peeking through at a hooded figure much taller than him. "Were you followed? Did anyone see you?" His voice is an unsteady hiss, betraying his nerves. He has not had a good day. We can forgive him for it.
The giant outside, however, answers in nothing but calm. "Don't worry. They sent assassins after me, but Pieliedie tanked the hit. Nobody knows I'm here. Let me in, Peter. We have much to talk about, and not much time." Peter Dager nods, fumbles with the chain, and tugs the door open, slamming it shut as soon as that titanic figure steps inside. His nervous fingers manage to turn all the locks again, and then he stumbles back over to his NEEDforSEAT chair and collapses into it. The stranger, with infinite poise and grace, settles down into the one next to it, a similar chair with R T Z scrawled on the back in crayon. The owner, we can presume, is crying himself to sleep, and the involuntary loan won't be objected to. But meanwhile, the hood is raised, the mystery revealed: Puppey has come to call.
Somehow, Peter manages to open another can of Monster, the perfect energy drink for "kickin' it local with the bros," and takes a desperate chug. His mind isn't about him: he forgets to offer his guest one. But Puppey is lenient, and he forgives the slight, sitting calmly in his seat. Finally, Peter speaks. "Puppey... back in 2013. Everyone knows about it. 2k scrubs are brought up hearing the story. It was the Age of Rat." He takes another gulp of Monster, and continues. "Nobody could have foreseen it. They came out of nowhere. At first, everyone thought they were just a bunch of Swedes with an irrational hatred of Tidehunter. But then... but then... they showed their true nature." His lips tremble. "At G-1 League. The Chinese brought them and Liquid over, as jokes. They wanted to laugh at the Westerners, to show how much better they were. But they didn't know what they'd invited into their own homes. All their greatest teams fell in front of the onslaught. And the Swedes, they didn't even have a scratch on them."
His eyes drift up to Puppey's. "Everyone knew it was coming. They tried to prepare. They chose the ground for the battle: The International, Dota's last bastion in Seattle. But it didn't matter. Alliance destroyed them all. Team after team fell to them, and all hope seemed lost... until the grand finals." Puppey lowers his head slightly, and his eyes seem to focus on something distant as he listens to the young captain. "Nobody really knows what happened there. That amount of Wisp had never been condensed into a single series before, and it warped the very fabric of reality. All we can say is, after Alliance walked out with their trophy, for the first time in their history, they were wounded. They were never the same after that, and the world had Na'Vi to thank..." He drifts off, the end of the story hanging in the air with all the glory of an ancient ballad. "But now they're back. They've healed, and their power is as great as ever. Not even our Dark Seer could defeat them. If I don't do something... it could be the end of the entire pro scene. So, Puppey, I need to know - what happened that day? What did you see?"
Puppey's face has taken on an odd expression. The placid little smile has vanished, the smooth brow is furrowed, and somehow it looks to Peter as if he's afraid. He laces his fingers together, and tightens his grip until his knuckles turn as white as a Snuggie. His lips press tight together, and it's a long time until he answers. "Peter... I have to tell you the truth. About them, about Na'Vi, and about what happened that day. It's not going to be easy for me, but I know I have to. For everyone's sake. If we don't stop them now... who knows what horrors they might unleash into the meta? It could make Sniper seem like a blessing in comparison." Peter shudders. Those were dark times indeed. Puppey takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and begins.
"Alliance's strength... is not of this game. To piece together the real story took me a long time. Most of my information came from Jackie Mao, who teamed with them before they fell. He trusted them, showing them the ancient Canadian secrets of Farming, which passed down through history to him, Aui, and Arteezy. But they betrayed this trust, casting him out of their team once they had learned the old ways, and replacing him with the mechanism of their corruption: a man known as AdmiralBulldog." Peter nods, listening in fear. He's seen that power first-hand. "But of how this happened, I never could find out, until I happened to find 7ckingmad under a bridge in Paris, begging for sponsors. He was the only non-Swede who had ever been on their team, and he was privy to their darkest secrets." Puppey gulps, sweat appearing on his brow. "You see, AdmiralBulldog had made a dark pact with a being known as Alfredo: a spirit of nature." Peter looks confused, until an expression of dawning horror crosses his face. Puppey nods grimly. "Yes, it's exactly as you think. They wield the power of Outside, the antithesis of not just Dota, but of all games. This is the source of their strength, and of their hatred of the game. It is what destroyed all teams which faced them, and that which they have now regained."
"At that time, we didn't know all of that. All we knew was that there was some evil power over them, and that we needed an equal force for good in order to contest it. We needed the power which had gained us victory in the first International... the Heart of CIS."
Peter shoots forward in his seat, disbelief covering his face as he goggles at the man before him. "But... the Heart of CIS! I thought that was just a legend, something to tell scrubs to explain why Na'Vi placed best in Internationals! An old fives' tale!" Puppey shakes his head, and motions for Peter to be silent. The EG captain complies.
"No, it's real. It's the ancient artifact, dating back to the early 2000s, that channels the power of the entire Eastern European scene. It was discovered first by Goblak, who brought it to Na'Vi when the team formed in 2010. He didn't know of its true power, thinking it to be nothing more than a pocket strat, and left it with the team when I came to replace him. But I recognized it for what it was, and used it to bring us to victory in the first International. But then, Artstyle, who had grown greedy and avaricious in his time with us, desired its power for himself alone. He stole it and fled in the night, carrying with him our hopes of winning TI2. We struggled valiantly, but without the Heart we could not best iG in the finals. I had planned on leaving it with Artstyle, knowing that any outright confrontation over the artifact could tear the entire server apart, but when Alliance arrived I knew we needed its power."
"I won't regale you with the tale of how I reclaimed the Heart of CIS from Artstyle, but needless to say, its power was remarkable. We burst through the tournament with it, getting to the very finals with Alliance, and finally faced them as equals. The series was horrendous: game after game of the most broken heroes, neither us nor them flinching from any blow. Our power finally matched theirs, the Heart giving us the strength needed to fight them - but not enough to deal the finishing blow. That much, we could not manage. We decided that we would simply hold them in stalemate as long as we could, in hope that the reservation at Benaroya Hall - Key Arena was just a mote in Gaben's eye back then - would run out, and that we could save us all. But s4, their mid, a wizard by blood, made a desperate, wild blow, using a Dream Coil which defied the laws of reality and which shattered the Heart of CIS. With its power gone, they finally defeated us, and claimed the Aegis which they had so ruthlessly sought. We had gambled everything, and we lost."
"But their victory came at a price. That final Dream Coil of s4's had gained the notice of a greater being than even Alfredo. Its evil might sent ripples through the very game code itself, and when they reached its core, awoke Icefrog himself. His wrath was terrible: in a single mighty blow, he shattered Alfredo's malevolent aura and crushed Alliance's power. They were left hollow, empty, victorious and yet suffering the worst of defeats. This was the end of their reign; this was the wound that all saw. But it was not inflicted by us."
Peter can't hold back any longer. "But if the Heart of CIS is broken, how can anyone ever beat Alliance? Nothing else can match their power! Are you saying that Dota is doomed?" His hands are clutching his knees, and terror is showing in his eyes.
Puppey shakes his head. "There is more to the story than that. When the Heart shattered, it didn't crumble away into dust. It split into five shards, the five aspects of CIS doto, each one flying into one of our players. We absorbed the shards, and have been their hosts ever since. Funn1k received the power of Solo Kill, XBOCT received the power of Davai, and Dendi received the power of Pudge. Kuroky was German, not CIS, and so he instead received the curse of Left. And I..." His hands raise up to his chest, and an odd green glowing starts to shine forth from within. "I received the power of Radiant Side Advantage. And this power I give to you, Peter, as the savior of our game." A glowing crystal emerges from his body, its color as bright as the jungle which Puppey has always called home, and settles down in its owner's waiting palms. "Take it, Peter. Take it, and restore the Heart of CIS."
Peter reaches out with shaking hands, and takes the fragment from Puppey. His eyes are wide with wonder as he gazes upon it, and keep the same expression as they look up to the veteran's face. "B-but... why me? You could reform Na'Vi, bring the team back together, and face Alliance yourself. How could I ever succeed?"
Puppey leans forward, setting his hand on the younger captain's shoulder, and smiles down to him. "It's because you're the only one who can succeed, Peter. Remember, not even I could summon the power to destroy Alliance once and for all. But you, you have that ability. A power that appears only once every million games, the greatest ability of them all: the power of Salt. When the time comes, seek your deepest self, and draw out that power to free us of their curse forever. But that must come later. For now, seek out my ex-teammates. Get the shards from them, and rebuild the Heart. I believe in you."
Peter looks ready to answer, his lips parting for a reply - when there's a harsh banging at the door. A smell starts to fill the air: rich, warm, and flavorful, like the cafeteria of an IKEA. The old captain's eyes narrow, and his head whips around to look at the door. "Swedish meatballs," he whispers. "They're here."
The next moments are all action. The pounding on the door grows harder, like a Spirit Bear attacking T3s, and the wooden frame starts to buckle under the strain. Puppey leaps to his feet, grabs Peter, and pushes him towards the window. "Quick," he shouts, "through here! Don't be afraid, it's not a long fall - you've dropped out of bigger tournaments! I'll hold them off as long as I can!" Peter breaks through the window like he broke into the scene, hopping off the balcony a moment later. As he begins to plummet like Doom's post-patch winrate, he glances over his shoulder, seeing the door burst open. He can only catch a glimpse of five shadowy figures, but that faint sight of their presence will haunt his nightmares for months to come. He hits the ground running. Puppey remains.
Exit Peter. Exit Puppey. Fade to black.