Felix #3
Haze scoffed, then smirked as I returned to my computer chair.
“Oh yeah, ‘cause your fucking cigarettes are so much better,” he taunted while bending over to pick up his vape.
“Now that shit really stinks.” He wiped the pen off before stopping to address me again.
“You know, you really got some anger issues, hermano.”
My jaw tightened. “If anyone has anger issues, it’s you. You and Indigo.”
I tried to focus on my work, but he just kept talking. Haze grinned at the sound of his twin’s name. “Indi,” he said, “can be a little hothead. It’s true. But oh, she’s nothing compared to us.” I remained still, knowing what he said was true.
The phone in Haze’s hand lit up, just like his own demeanor.
“Speak of the devil.” He smiled, then walked across the room and grabbed a duffel bag, tossing it over his shoulder with no effort.
“Indi’s done with her training and I am off the clock.
” He shot me a look, as if hesitating to leave me.
“You sure this is how you want to spend your Friday night?” He motioned to my wall of monitors before me.
I nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m the only one capable of even hacking this system.
And we need to access it to—” I stopped, noticing my brother’s eyes glaze over from boredom.
“Just forget it.” I spun back toward the screens and rubbed my eyes, annoyed by how long this had been taking me.
“I’m so close to disabling it…I just need to—” I typed in some more coding, slamming my finger onto the enter key, hoping this time it’d work.
The green numbers and letters filled my screen as we both waited, holding our breath.
“Come on…come on. Come on!” We both watched as the coding continued to fill the monitors.
“Yes. Yes! Finally—” A loud beep rang out as a pop-up filled the main screen, telling me I’d once again failed.
“Fuck!” I slammed my fists into the keyboard, furious.
“I almost had it!” My temper began to take control as I rose to my feet and kicked the computer chair away, sending it into the wall.
“God fucking dammit!” I ran my fingers through my hair, huffing and puffing, my heart racing in my chest. “Fuck!”
Haze watched me spiral, waiting until I finally hunched over and took a breath to speak up.
“You should really look into channeling that temper of yours into a hobby.” I shot him a pissed look, watching while he purposely blew another mouthful of smoke into the air.
“It’s not good to leave it all pent up.”
My brow raised as I composed myself. “Oh yeah? Then tell me, how do you control yours? Hmm?” I crossed my arms, watching while he looked briefly at his phone.
“Oh, I got my way.” He winked, adjusting his bag.
“I used to bake to help with how pissed I’d get, seeing Indi dating all those other fuckers.
” His voice dipped just recalling the idea of his twin with other men.
“The dude twice her age, the drug dealer, even that fucking skater boy.” The corner of his mouth curled up.
“Although, dealing with her most recent ex, Carter, was a nice way to let off some steam.” His eyes twinkled at the thought.
“I should get an award for how I handled him. I held that shit in way too long.”
I shook my head, remembering the blond-haired, hockey-obsessed dick.
“Yeah, you’re welcome for my help with that one, by the way.
” He rolled his eyes. “And I’ve got hobbies.
” I looked back at my younger brother, realizing he was trying not to burst out laughing, as if my words were some ridiculous fantasy. “I do!”
Haze’s brows raised. “Sure.” He scoffed with a small chuckle.
His phone lit up again as his face shifted to a larger smile.
“Well, as much as I love staying here in your little doomsday off-grid home, I have somewhere to be, and steam of my own to let off.” He winked again.
“Don’t wait up for me.” I rolled my eyes and waved him off, knowing exactly where he was going.
Fucking twins.
An alert from the external security system I had chimed from my phone.
I swiped through to open the live feed, watching as Haze stepped outside and approached a black muscle car with a woman in the driver’s seat.
It was Indigo. And she was obviously smoking.
“I swear…” I shook my head. “Fucking potheads.” Haze turned to look directly into the security camera and flipped me off with a wide grin.
He really is a prick.
I chuckled to myself, watching as the two drove away.
A hobby, huh?
My eyes scanned the large, modern room. Aside from the wall of monitors, I didn’t have much in here.
Sure, there was an oversized bed and all the basic shit you’d find in a bedroom…
My old gear, and an endless stockpile of guns and other things hidden from view in every inch of the place, but aside from that, it was pretty desolate.
But, for the first time in weeks, I was finally all alone.
I walked over and retrieved my computer chair from the floor, fixing it and rolling it back to my desk.
I looked at the blinking monitor as I sat down, staring at the hundredth failed attempt of hacking Northern Lights’ system.
I had spent so much time trying to break through, hyper-focused and grasping at anything I could to help with getting into their systems, but Haze was right—I needed a break.
Otherwise, I was going to go fucking insane.
My hand directed the cursor, hesitating as it hovered on the screen.
“Just a small reprieve,” I whispered to myself before clicking away from all the coding I’d been focused on, clearing the monitors and opening a brand new tab.
I started up my gaming console and chose one of my all-time favorite Modern Warfare video games, logging myself in.
“See? I’ve got fucking hobbies.” I snatched my headset and while it loaded, I felt a bit of excitement rush through me as my digital character appeared, my gamertag above it.
Now we’re talking. Let’s fucking go.
An old, familiar comfort settled into my bones.
The game fully loaded, sending me and a bunch of random online players into a shared lobby.
Voices from the other players filled my headphones as they overlapped one another, the volume making my eardrums ring as we were then split into two teams for a round of player-versus-player combat.
A map materialized, the intricate virtual world spread wide to mimic real life battles fought throughout time.
The rules, which were easy enough, were displayed for each person to see.
Players from opposing teams had to travel through each area and take out the opposing team in a violent game of tag, until only one team remained standing. Simple enough.
The countdown began as each player chose their firearms—my personal go-to was the Benelli M4 shotgun, which had always been my weapon of choice back in my military days.
“Just like old times,” I purred, customizing its skin.
Of course, I had a pistol as my side arm, but I knew I wouldn’t need it. I never did.
The remaining players readied up, each of us psyching one another up via our headsets as the system chose team captains.
To no surprise, I was automatically chosen as captain, thanks to my countless hours spent ranking to the top ten percent of the game’s players worldwide.
And even though it had been an extensive amount of time since I’d last played, I’d fallen back into the game as though no time had passed.
Beep. Beep. Beep!
The countdown timer hit zero and we all loaded into the game.
“Spread out!” I shouted to my team. Old instincts and experience took over, like some kind of tunnel vision—the controls and sounds of gameplay flowing back to me, and before I knew it, I was lost. “Behind you!” I shouted a warning to a teammate, shooting the opposing player as I covered him.
“Got your six!” Another player rushed over and healed the man as I kept a close eye on our surroundings, taking out a few more players.
With each calculated shot and kill, I felt an old surge of adrenaline, just like when I was knee deep in the desert, crawling my way through bodies and shit to fulfill my missions.
The reality of the game and my violent past slowly bled together with each passing second, and before I knew it, I felt as if I was really inside the game…
killing and reliving those dark days. That killer instinct I had inherited, passed down through generations of our fucked family, shot through my veins as I broke out into a light sweat and carried my team to victory with the final kill shot.
“Yes!” I shot to my feet, the voices of my teammates shouting and cheering filling the earphones as I felt such immense pride in our victory.
“Good game!” I shouted to them. The euphoric high of winning drove us wild and like the addicts we were, we were thirsty to taste it again.
“Alright, fuckers,” I shouted into the headset.
“Ready up and let’s go for round two.” And with that, my team loaded back into the lobby and together, we spent the next few hours gaming nonstop.
Throughout the night, my team and I won multiple more rounds, easily dominating our competition while rising through the ranks. Despite being an advanced war game, it felt more like child’s play, and my team and I were just moments away from locking in yet another win. And I could taste victory.
“Team leader! Up top!”