Chapter 35
Luca
Use practice mode regularly to train your reflexes and gain quicker reaction time in fights.
I’ve never seen Hank in action before. I realize it the moment he steps on stage.
I’ve seen his performances, I’ve watched him during meetings, and I even watched an old speech of his on YouTube once.
But I’ve never seen him fighting passionately for something.
It’s impressive and a little scary, the way he commands the stage.
His voice echoes through the room all the way over to our little booth, even drowning out the music from the speakers around us.
Hank is speaking with such passion in his voice that the stands are now filled with people, and in front of the first row of chairs, there are actually a few visitors sitting on the floor.
The camera team switches to the audience now and then during Hank’s speech, showing their eager faces.
They’re all seeing our game. My heartbeat picks up a notch as I watch the crowd in disbelief.
There was a lot of interest in Maeve’s presentation earlier, but this .
. . this is mental. And if it feels like this to me in front of my laptop, then the judges and the audience, who are actually sitting in the stands, must be absolutely blown away.
I’m overcome by a wave of gratitude. Hank didn’t have to do this.
He could have sent Maleek and me to GameChanger and could have kept working on his own top-selling games.
But here he is. And because of the way he’s talking about Desolate Dread, because of the way he’s raving about the level design and the fight mechanics, for the first time, I believe that he understands.
Hank finally understands why Desolate Dread is a special game and why it could be just as big of a success as his other games.
The live stream chat seems hyped up too.
I keep reading things like “I need this!,” “When’s the release?
,” and “Putting this on my wish list,” as well as “Hank is such a legend!” Though nothing is decided yet, a big part of my tension falls away, until the only part that’s left is the one that’s been nagging at me ever since my conversation with Lara.
But just like I’ve been doing all day, I wrestle it back down—because if there’s one thing I shouldn’t be doing now, it’s letting that thought distract me.
Instead, I allow myself to close my eyes for a moment and just breathe.
Or I try, at least, until I hear someone clearing their throat behind me, and I remember that I have a booth to manage.
I help the boy testing our game create a save slot, and then I restock a few goodies.
Meanwhile, I keep glancing back at my laptop, now showing scenes from our game, shaking my head.
I’ve just gotten myself a Coke from the mini fridge when my phone vibrates.
Maleek: I get all warm and mushy just watching Hank.
Luca: Please work on your dirty talk for Amanda’s sake. Sounds more like diarrhea to me.
Maleek: I hate you so much right now.
Maleek: But I’m loving Hank. What a beast. I wonder if anyone’s going to dare ask questions?
I chuckle and glance back at my laptop, where the presentation is just ending and the Q I could just throw myself at Hank in gratitude right now.
For being here, and for catching the attention of the press, for himself and our game.
We couldn’t wish for better publicity. Distant though he might come off at times, he’s there for Maleek and me when it counts.
But Sophia seems like she couldn’t hurt a fly, and yet she’s the opposite of innocent.
And if Lara isn’t careful, she’ll go down with her.
About an hour later, Hank has long since wrapped up his round of questions, but he’s still nowhere to be found.
Our booth’s positively humming with activity, and the queue in front doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, no matter how many people have a go at our game or take pictures in our photo corner with the old train station clock and the fog machine.
I shoot Hank a message asking where he’s gotten to, because while I’m busy managing the chaos at our booth, I really need the loo. His answer comes promptly.
Hank: I just want to watch the next presentation; I’ll be right back after.
A sense of foreboding creeps up on me, and it makes me feel queasy.
I can hazard a guess at whose presentation is interesting enough to grab Hank’s attention: Sophia Richards’s.
I glance around the booth once more, deciding that it won’t be drowning in chaos over the next five minutes, and I open my laptop again—just in time to see Hiroshi leave the stage. The next speaker is announced: Sophia.
“Please, no,” I mutter as a foreboding swells inside me. I understand that Hank has to make her theft public, of course. But not now. Not here. Not when Lara’s caught up in this whole thing. I send a silent prayer up toward the ceiling.
Sophia manages to captivate the crowd just like Hank did.
The audience seems to be about the same size but more female-leaning than at the presentation of our game.
As the camera perspective switches to the stands, I can make out Hank’s face in the second row.
There’s a smile on his face, a calculating one.
He’s all wound up, like a predator ready to strike.
The strike comes fifteen minutes later, as the energy drinks in our fridge are running low and I’m starting to relax again. Sophia wraps up her presentation, and Hank slowly, unmistakably raises his hand.