Forbidden Game

Chapter Four

I pull out my pistol and shoot three enemies before slipping into the elevator. My fingers flick over the keyboard in quick succession, tapping out commands at a breakneck pace as I prepare for the upcoming skip.

My eyes flick ever so briefly to the timer perched to the right of my monitor.

Two hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-six seconds.

I smirk.

I’m sitting forty-six seconds faster in comparison to yesterday’s run, but I can’t get ahead of myself. If I don’t time my next move perfectly, I won’t be able to clip my character between the elevator floor and the map below, which will cost me precious seconds.

I watch the elevator move on the screen and keep my left middle finger poised on the W key while my left pinky hovers over the SHIFT key and my right pointer waits on the mouse. My mind is silent in anticipation. A small flash of orange appears in the upper right corner—my signal—and I hit each key in succession.

SHIFT. W. CLICK.

My heart stops for a solid second as I wait to see whether I was quick enough.

My character falls through the bottom of the elevator and lands in the basement of the building I was sent to infiltrate. I let out a small sigh of relief at the successful sequence break before zeroing back in on the task on hand, my left hand moving quickly to rush my character to pick up a package sitting in the back corner.

This room is where the bomb is being kept, and that clip just allowed me to bypass the entire maze of enemies and locked doors I would’ve needed to beat to get here—something that would’ve taken an average player an hour or so to get through. If I’d messed up that move, I would’ve needed to reset to my last save, which would easily add on those forty-six seconds I’ve managed to shave off the run so far.

That’s the thing about speedrunning, every move counts. If you mess up even once, it could ruin everything.

Speedrunning doesn’t really make a lot of money outside of streaming, but it’s always been my favorite subsect of the gaming space. Some people just enjoy beating their own times, but I love the challenge of finding new ways to complete the game faster. Not everyone is able to find a new skip or exploit, a way to glitch through the game, but if you are someone who does, your mark is permanent—your name becomes known in history.

That’s how I got addicted to speedrunning.

In the gaming community, I wasn’t Parker Covington, heir to a multibillion dollar hotel conglomerate and tabloid-pronounced party boy. I was EnglishCoffee, the speedrunner who completed the fastest run of Understory at the age of sixteen, beating the previous record holder by an entire eight minutes. I’m still the record holder. I found a skip that lets players clip out-of-bounds and circumvent a major boss fight, and it is still used by gamers all over the world. The knowledge of that makes me feel like a badass.

Creating EnglishCoffee and rising through the ranks of the gaming and streaming community is an accomplishment that I can only credit myself for. I’ve spent hours platinuming games, learning their ins and outs, because I love that moment when I see the little trophy that ranks me in the top percent of players worldwide.

That isn’t to say I don’t like being Parker Covington. Both halves of my life are fucking amazing. I was flying to Paris at fifteen to party in the most exclusive clubs with literal royalty. When I was nineteen, I was invited to an exclusive rave in Monaco before watching the Formula 1 qualifiers from the paddock the next day.

I’ve never been one to settle.

Why not have the best of both worlds?

Just because other people can’t handle it doesn’t mean I can’t.

Sure, it gets exhausting, but there is always a little pain that comes with fame.

I’m close to finishing the game now. Around fifteen minutes, based on my previous run times. I just need to fast travel to the final city, defeat the boss, and I’m done. It’s the one battle I can’t avoid during the gameplay since it is quite literally needed to trigger the end scene.

My focus tunnels as I fight to keep my time. The tips of my fingers dance across my keyboard, and my right wrist twitches side to side as it controls my mouse.

I can feel my heart accelerating in my chest. I really don’t want to repeat this speedrun again tomorrow. I need to get my time right, now.

The final boss’s health dips into the red, and I watch as my next blow defeats him.

I quickly maneuver my left thumb to button mash the SPACE key. I skip through the final cutscene with ease, and the second the end credits load, I hit the timer to stop it.

Two hours, forty-three minutes, and three seconds.

My head drops to my chest, and I smile.

Thank fuck.

I quit the game and then set about turning off my screen recording and my webcam recording before popping both clips into a shared folder for our team to go over. My speedruns are pretty easy to edit because, well, there is no editing, but I don’t upload every speedrun to my channel. Some are more performative, I’ll chat during them and make them entertaining for subscribers to watch as VODs. Others are runs just for me, to analyze and learn from. Today was one of those.

I push away from my desk and stand up, letting my chair roll behind me. Stretching, my shoulders make an audible clicking noise as they loosen up. These next few weeks are going to be brutal on my body. I’ll need to be careful on my wrist.

I send a quick text to Sydney letting her know that I finished my practice hours for the day and update her on my new run time. As much as I’m obsessed with her, I’m also deathly scared of her. She was camped out in our apartment most of last week to keep an eye on me, making sure that I was sticking to my new practice schedule.

If I wasn’t a little bit of a masochist, her overbearing nature wouldn’t be such a turn on. Instead, I found it a treat every time I left my streaming room to find her either perched at our kitchen counter working or lounging away on our couch. Her stormy eyes would narrow in on me, and I relished the attention as she logged my hours, run times, and stats.

After five days of successfully following her schedule to a T, she deemed me trustworthy enough to work on my own and went back to her own apartment. If I wasn’t serious about winning this tournament, I would’ve fudged my hours to get her to stay around more. Sydney hasn’t been over since Friday, and her cherry scent has long since dissipated.

When I open my door, I’m assaulted by the bright lights from our kitchen. I practically hiss as my eyes squeeze shut before I force them to blink open. I rip open the fridge and pull out an energy drink. Cracking it open, the hissing sound provides a sense of comfort. I drain half of the fizzy caffeinated beverage while shuffling items around the fridge.

Nothing looks good.

I’ll order in with the boys instead.

The apartment is silent, so I trudge over to Aleks’ streaming room and shove the door open. The room is lit in a deep red glow, but he isn’t inside. It’s midafternoon, so he could still be sleeping.

I really thought once he got a girlfriend that his hours would get a little more normal, but Aleksander is still as nocturnal as ever.

Shifting down the hall, I pause outside Aleks’ bedroom and lean my ear against the frame. When no sounds of pleasurable moans creep through the crack, I deem it safe enough to open.

I scowl when I’m greeted by his empty, rumpled bed.

I spin around, all patience lost as I use my foot to push down the handle to Jackson’s streaming room and kick it open.

Aleks and Jackson have rooms in the same hallway, while mine are in the one off the kitchen.

Naturally, mine are the biggest.

The door flings open with force, and I step into the green LED-lit room. Sure enough, Jackson is gaming on his PC while Aleks looms in a chair next to him. My two best friends pause their yelling to look at me for a second and nod before going back to the game in front of them.

“Are you wankers really going to ignore me?” I huff.

“You still have your headphones on, wanker,” Aleks mocks back in a shitty British accent while pawing at a bag of crisps.

I quickly shove the headset off my head and leave them to rest around my neck before walking farther into the room and snatching the bag from him.

I barely manage to shove a handful of the honey-barbeque crisps into my mouth before Aleks grabs them back from me, almost knocking my energy drink out of my hand in the process.

I give his chair a kick, sending it rolling backward, and quickly grab one of the nearby puffy, round seats to claim my spot to Jackson’s right. Aleks flicks me his middle finger, and I return the gesture twofold.

“What’re you guys playing, anyway?” My eyes scan the screen as I lean forward.

It’s a first-person game, that much I can tell. Jackson’s character is using a flashlight to search what looks like a very illegal, backwater surgery room. I don’t recognize it as anything we’ve played before, but Jackson tends to play a lot of games from indie developers.

When the music starts to turn creepy, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Jackson also tends to play a lot of horror games.

“What game is it?” I ask again while draining the rest of my energy drink, but the fizziness only upsets the growing unease as the assholes remain quiet. “Fuck this.”

I go to push up, but I’m not quick enough. Some fucked-up looking zombie creature flashes onto the screen with a screeching sound, and I just about piss myself. My attempt at leaving turns into me tripping backward over the round seat, and I end up sprawled on the ground with a grunt.

Aleks and Jackson let out a holler of laughter.

I fucking loathe jump-scare horror games and they know it.

“I hate you both.” I crush the can that is still gripped in my hand and fling it at Jackson.

He bats it away with ease before extending his hand out to me. “Come on, princess.”

“You are aware you died,” I point out with a grumble, knocking his hand away and standing up myself.

“Worth it.” He shrugs, spinning back to the screen and restarting the game. “It’s a new game, by the way. They’re still in beta but asked if I would test it out and give them some feedback. It’s pretty good. I haven’t had any glitches or major bugs so far, and the creatures look super realistic.”

The brief image of the zombie creature flashes in my mind, and I suppress a shiver.

“There’s something wrong with you people,” I grumble.

I’ll never understand why people willingly scare themselves. Seriously. Why?

“How’d your run go?” Aleks asks through a mouthful of crisps.

“Shaved off thirty seconds total.”

“Ay, nice.” He holds his hand out, and I slap it before fist-bumping him.

“Yeah, I was going to celebrate and get us a table at High Wire, but I’m not feeling so hospitable anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure Syd would drag you out of the club before you even popped a bottle.”

At least it would give me an excuse to see her.

“I could always turn my location off,” I supply.

“You tried that last month,” Jackson reminds me. “Only gave you three hours, and she added five hours to your streaming quote.”

“Ugh, I’m one strike away from a tech lockdown myself,” Aleks groans. “I need to do that stupid photo shoot next week to wipe my slate clean.”

“The one for Wyreless?” I ask.

“Fuck. I still need to do that one, too.” Aleks runs a tattooed hand down his face. “High Wire doesn’t sound so bad anymore. Might as well cut my losses early and get drunk.”

An ungodly screech comes from Jackson’s laptop, and I match it with a yelp of my own. My head automatically jerks to his screen, and I spot a skeletal-looking creature with melting skin gracing his monitor in 4K. Fucking lovely.

“Turn that thing off,” I growl.

Jackson laughs but turns his monitor off. “All right, all right.” He crosses his arms across his chest, his thick biceps bulging. “Let’s not get on Sydney’s shit list any more than necessary. Why don’t we order in tonight and play a couple of rounds of Smash?”

I grin. “Loser’s penalty?”

“The Aprilia?” Aleks smirks.

“We’re not betting the Aprilia during a game of Smash.” I may bet dumb shit but not that dumb. “Plus, the Aprilia is already in play, remember? Whoever wins the next Hottest Streamer of the Year gets it.”

Aleks has been eyeing my motorcycle for the last four years, ever since I had it shipped over. But no matter how many times I put it up as collateral for one of our bets, he has yet to win it.

He thinks it’s cursed.

Right now, the Aprilia is sitting as the reward for whoever ranks higher on next year’s Hottest Steamer list that Gamer Weekly publishes. Aleks seems confident he will win again, but now that he’s scored himself a bird, I think the odds tip more in my favor. I really don’t want to lose it since it’s a vintage model, but I can always buy something else to replace it in my collection come worst case scenario. It would give me an excuse to head out to the track and test drive.

“I don’t even want the Aprilia,” Jackson sighs. “Why can’t we just bet something simple?”

“Because that’s no fun.”

“Whoever loses pays for dinner,” he pushes.

Jackson sucks at bets. Mostly because he is a sore loser. Out of the three of us, he is the most competitive, but he is so competitive that he refuses to play unless he knows he has a good chance of winning. When it comes to Smash, it’s a pretty even playing field between the three of us, but Jackson does have a higher likelihood of losing in the long run.

“I’m fine with dinner.” Aleks shrugs.

I roll my eyes. “Fine, loser buys dinner.”

We all shake hands on it, but when Jackson goes to let go, I grip his hand harder and give him a broad smile. “I’m ordering from Silver Fish, by the way.”

Jackson gives me a deadpan expression as Aleks snorts at the name of the top omakase restaurant in California, run by the renowned Chef Takisawa.

“Silver Fish sounds delicious,” Aleks muses. “I’ve really been craving a forty-dollar sushi roll; it will go great with the twenty-dollar miso soup and thirty-dollar edamame.”

“Seriously, English.” Jackson quirks an eyebrow.

“I thought you loved sushi,” I innocently reply.

“I do, but that place is stupid expensive.”

“Then I guess you’re gonna have to win.”

“You’re on.”

***

Aleks elbows me, and my character almost goes slipping off the platform, plunging to its death.

“That’s fucking cheating!” I yell, smashing my thumb down on the A button repeatedly.

I land a blow on his character, and his hit-score gets dangerously high. I just need to hit him with a special attack, and he will lose his second to last life. He needs to lose this round, or I’m royally screwed.

The game isn’t exactly going according to plan.

Somehow, Aleks and I are tied for last place, while Jackson is magically beating both of us by three rounds. If I don’t beat Aleks this round, I’m going to be stuck paying for Silver Fish, and I know Jackson is going to order the Hokkaido Bafun Uni roll just out of spite. I have nothing against the roll; it tastes amazing. But it’s one hundred and sixty dollars, and Jackson doesn’t even like Uni. In fact, he hates it.

Jackson’s character engulfs mine before spitting it back out, and I watch as my character goes blasting off the screen to its death.

Fuck. I only have one life left.

“You’ve been practicing in secret, haven’t you?” I accuse him with a waggle of my finger as I wait to respawn.

“It’s not in secret, you’ve just been busy.” He shrugs.

“Nope, I agree. It’s been in secret.” Aleks agrees with me as his own character falls to its death at the hand of Jackson.

Thank God. We both have one life left now.

“You’ve also been busy.” Jackson is a broken record and a pain in the ass.

I need to kill Aleks.

My knee taps up and down as I focus on dolling out hits to Aleks’ character, but it’s tough when Jackson is going after me like a dog with a bone. This round is turning into a 2v1 at this point.

A power-up appears on the screen, and I let out a yell when I manage to successfully grab it. I launch my attack, and Aleks’ character goes spinning diagonally off screen. He chucks his controller onto the couch with a curse, and it bounces onto the floor.

I let out a maniacal laugh.

My win is short-lived as Jackson knocks my character off the ledge and then hits me again, so I have no chance of saving myself. I die, but coming in second place was all I needed.

“This is bullshit.” Aleks folds his arms over his chest.

“You lost fair and square, mate.” I shrug.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you were in my position.”

True. But I’m not.

I pull up a new text message to Akari, my Silver Fish contact and Chef Takisawa’s granddaughter. We went to the same international boarding school in Switzerland for a year when we were fifteen. My order at Silver Fish tends to be the same every time, so I just copy and paste my last text before holding my phone out to Jackson.

“Here, type what you want.”

“You can order whatever for me.” He shrugs.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, but I’m sort of feeling like sea urchin tonight. Do they still have that Uni roll?” A wolfish grin spreads across Jackson’s face.

“Why, yes. Yes, they do.” I grin back.

“Come on, guys,” Aleks whinges.

“I’ll just add some rolls on for you while I’m at it, Aleks. How does the Gold Caviar Surprise sound?”

“Fuck no.”

Aleks lobs his body at me, crushing me onto Jackson as he attempts to wrestle my phone out of my hand. Jackson pushes us out from under us, and we go tumbling onto the carpet. Aleks grips my shoulder, and his black nails dig in as he tries to keep me in place while I attempt to wiggle out from under him.

“You’re breaking skin, asshole.”

“Give me the phone, and I’ll let go.”

“No.”

I manage to get my elbow free and clip him in the ribs. I start to scramble backward, but Aleks lunges for me again. This time, my back lands on the stupid fucking controller he tossed earlier. The plastic bites into me, and I let out a deep grunt.

I lift up my knee to push him off me and gain a split second to flip around and shove the controller away. Then Aleks is back on me, flattening me to the floor.

“Get off of me, you oaf.”

“Stop shoving your ass in my face,” he complains.

“Your mum thinks my ass is great.”

“My mom is dead.”

“Why do you always have to ruin that joke?” I let out another huff as I try to keep my phone away from his grimy hands.

“Because it makes people uncomfortable.” Aleks reaches around and tickles my left underarm, and my body spasms. I have to fight to keep my hand clenched around my phone.

“Fuck you, Blade.”

“Seems like you’re trying to.”

“Motherfu—”

“Well, this is quite the show.”

We both go still at the feminine voice.

Aleks let out a breathless, “Hey, babe,” before digging his elbow into my back.

“Stephanie, be a dear and get your sore loser of a boyfriend off me,” I plead to the lithe brunette who is leaning against the wall.

“Seems like I might break a nail doing that.” She scrunches up her nose while examining her hands. “But don’t worry, Parker. I’m rooting for you. You’ve got this. Kick his ass.” She gives me a thumbs up.

“You’re going to pay for that later, Stevie,” Aleks growls.

“I hope so.” She winks.

I take the momentary distraction to twist myself around and land another elbow to Aleks’ ribs before kneeing him. He curls in on himself for a millisecond, and I scramble up. I finally manage to stand, but I only take one step before Aleks’ hands close around my sweatpants and tug.

“What is with all this grunting?” Sydney rounds the corner from our private elevator with an annoyed expression.

Aleks pulls my sweatpants down.

Chaos breaks out as cold air runs across my bare ass.

Sydney lets out a screech as she comes face to face with my dick, and Stevie doubles over, clutching her stomach in laughter.

“Stevie, stop staring at Parker’s dick!” Aleks yells.

“You’re the one who just pantsed him,” she cackles.

“Pull your damn pants back up,” Sydney shrieks through the hands covering her face. I don’t miss the way she can still see through her fingers and is staring at my junk.

I can’t help but grin.

“Your ass is super white, dude,” Jackson comments.

I reach down and jerk my sweatpants back up. “Sorry, next time I go to Italy, I’ll make sure to visit a nude beach so my ass tans.”

“You have a nice butt,” Stevie supplies.

“Thank you.” I grin at her.

“Stephanie,” Aleks growls.

“What? I didn’t say anything about his penis.”

“Why can’t you guys ever be normal?” Sydney is beet red beneath her golden blonde bangs. Her embarrassment is adorable. I just want to pull her into my arms.

“You should all feel very privileged right now. Not many people get to see the big P.”

“Dude, did you just refer to your dick as ‘the big P’?” Jackson judges.

“What? It’s not like I gave it an actual name like Parker Jr or Lil’ P.” I freeze. “Wait. No.”

“Lil P,” Aleks hollers.

God-fucking-dammit. Why do I always dig my own grave?

“Quit while you still can, dude.” Jackson claps his hands around my shoulder.

“Sod off,” I grumble. “You still have to buy us Silver Fish.” I point my finger at Aleks.

His face instantly sobers into a scowl.

“Oh, I love Silver Fish,” Stevie croons.

“How perfect, we were just finishing our order. What do you want, love?” I hand her my phone and shoot her a conspiratorial smile, which she matches pace for pace.

She taps out her order and then offers the phone to Sydney. “You joining us, Syd?”

“They don’t really have vegan options, and I still have work to finish before Parker and I leave Friday. I only came up because I needed to give him his new mouse from Wyreless.”

She looks at me for a brief second before the redness returns to crawl up her neck and she looks at the floor.

I like how much I’m affecting her right now. That I’m seeing a glimpse of discomfort in her usual poised fa?ade. Every day I break through a little more. She thinks I can’t get in because she changed the locks to her heart, but she forgets she gave me the keys once before. Nothing is going to stop me from getting them again.

Sydney shoves the box in my hands before spinning on her kitten heels and giving Stevie a quick hug. She throws the rest of us a fleeting wave.

“I’ll see you guys later. Behave.”

She’s almost out of sight when she pauses and turns back. Her eyes automatically skip to mine before they shift to Aleks, and she points a finger at him.

“I rescheduled your shoot for Monday. I’ll be taking you there personally. Don’t think for a second that I won’t chain you to your bed Sunday night to make sure of that.”

“I’d love to see that.” Stevie winks.

Aleks loops his arms around her midsection and pulls her against him, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Of course, you would, little dove.”

“Aleksander,” Sydney warns.

“Yeah, yeah, Syd. I promise.”

“Good.” She resumes her retreat to the elevator, and I follow her. I lean against the wall as she waits briefly for the doors to open. She steps in and eyes me warily while hitting the button for her floor.

“You can chain me up, too, love.”

I blow her a kiss as the elevator doors start to close, and she rolls her eyes.

I smirk and return to the chaos behind me.

Brick by brick.

I’ll break down those walls.