Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter One

ONE

DEER

“ J ACKSON, HE IS GOING TO KILL ME,” my best friend Lee screeches.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it. I’m like three levels above you,” Jackson’s deep voice rumbles back through my headset.

“Jackson,” she screams again.

“Lee, I swear to fucking God.”

I let loose a laugh as I maneuver my own character through the dingy basement tunnels.

“Don’t laugh at—” Lee’s voice is cut off, signaling that her video game character did in fact get killed.

The audio in the horror game we are playing is based on character proximity. The closer you are to your teammates, the more they can hear you. But if you die, you can’t hear each other at all, and you just end up stuck in an observatory role until the round ends or everyone else dies.

“She’s going to be pissed,” I muse.

As the top female video game streamer in the United States, Allison Lee—known by her gamertag LoveLee—is a force to be reckoned with. But while she might be a beast at RPGs and even has esports teams eying her, she is always the first of us to die when we play horror games.

Jackson scoffs. “I didn’t see you rushing to her aid.”

“She wasn’t asking me.”

Without Lee, there are pockets of silence between Jackson and me. When I first began playing video games with him, I used to get uncomfortable and thought he maybe didn’t like me. Then I realized that that’s just his personality; he doesn’t really speak unless he has a reason to.

As one of the members of The System—the hottest group of video game streamers, made up of three stupidly attractive men—he is known as the broody, silent one. Jackson goes by the gamertag of Shield3d, a.k.a. Shield, and built his multi-million following playing horror games and streaming MMOs. His social media feed is filled with moody street pics, gym mirror selfies, and the occasional food post. Even when he goes out, he is always the one who keeps a level head, whereas his friends find themselves on the brink of getting arrested.

I spend more time thinking about him than I should, but it’s because I can’t seem to crack him. I’m friends with his publicist and his best friend’s girlfriend, but Jackson and I never talk outside of gaming despite how often our paths cross.

I try not to read too much into it, but it does irk me slightly.

I’ve spent the last two years crafting my entire online video game persona, TheCozyDeer, as someone whom everyone likes. I’m supposed to be fun, cute and infectiously sweet—but this annoying grump of a man just won’t take to it.

I sigh, bringing my mind back into focus as I walk my character down a corridor and come across a locked door. I pull out one of the keys I’d found earlier on in the game then open it.

A giant sludgy centipede creature sits in the middle of the room.

“Motherfuc—” my hands move like lightning over my keyboard as I try to exit the room. The creature begins to scuttle toward me, and I let loose another slew of curses—my Irish lilt slipping out from my practiced American accent—before I safely manage to get back out and close the door.

“You all good there, Deer?”

“Barely,” I huff.

It’s silent for a beat before Jackson swears.

“What?”

“I heard a noise I didn’t like.”

I snort, but I understand his unease. Hunt Till Dead , the viral co-op survival horror game we are playing, is based largely around sound. If you make too much noise, you can attract certain creatures to your location. The game is set during an apocalypse, and the aim is to scavenge around in the abandoned buildings of various cities for goods to survive. You rely on your team to help you collect enough goods to survive the night, but when your team member dies, you have to wait until the next day for them to respawn. Unless you don’t collect enough goods, then you will all die when the clock hits midnight.

“I’m heading back to base camp,” Jackson announces.

I chew on my bottom lip, calculating the value of the loot I’ve gathered. It is probably enough to get us through the night.

“Okay, I’m right behind you.”

I begin running my character up a stairwell to reach him on the third floor, but the closer I get to him the more a distant noise begins to register in my headset. I spot Jackson’s character, and my shoulders relax a fraction.

Until that distant noise turns into a very decipherable sound.

Nails dragging on the ground.

“Oh no,” I whisper. “Oh no, no, no.”

“Go, go, go,” Jackson shouts, mirroring my dread. “It’s just straight then left.”

“I hate that sound,” I hiss, running my character through the maze of corridors behind him. “I hate it. I hate it.”

“Oh. I lied. It’s just straight,” he corrects when we come up to a dead end.

“Seriously?”

We backtrack, but the noise gets louder. My jaw clenches as my heart rate speeds up. Horror games and I have a love-hate relationship. They scare the crap out of me, but I live for the adrenaline. It’s a nice change from my cozy games, and it’s also helped boost my streams to a new level—people love to watch people getting scared.

“Fucking hell, I really hate this.”

I continue to run down the hallway, but like a noob, I turn around for a split second to see how far behind me the creature is.

Its chalky white body instantly fills my screen, and I let out a short yelp as it kills me.

I lightly slam my mouse against my desk in frustration as my screen flips to the observer view, and I watch as Jackson continues to attempt his escape. Considering the creature just satisfied itself with my corpse, he should be able to make it out.

So annoying.

“Good try,” Lee muses.

Since we’re both dead, we can chat again.

“I should’ve survived that,” I pout before grabbing a sip of water from my pink rhinestone tumbler. “What killed you anyway?”

“A Corpsewalker.”

I can practically hear her lip curl as she spits out the name.

“Ew, I hate those things.”

I turn my attention to my second monitor and browse the comments. It’s hard to keep up with them whenever I stream with friends because I tend to get lost in the gameplay.

My eyes catch on the video of myself in the top corner, and I frown as I fix my curly pink hair under my headset.

“Fuck. What an L.”

Jackson’s deep timbre startles me, and I look back at my main monitor to see his character’s body get dragged away by a giant fourteen-legged spider.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Lee consoles.

“You two need to stop dying,” he grunts. “This is a co-op game for a reason.”

My jaw pops open. “Excuse me? You’re the one who led me down a dead end.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see me die because of that.”

My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

The audacity of this man sometimes.

It’s to be expected though. If there is one thing I’ve learned about Jackson Lau, it is that he hates losing and has no issue blaming others instead of himself whenever it happens. Not that it stops me from playing with him time and time again.

“Are we playing another round?” Lee chimes in.

“Totally. I need to redeem myself.” I give my wrists a quick roll.

“Yeah, I can knock another out,” Jackson agrees.

We let the game randomize the city we land in and wait for our characters to spawn at the new base camp. It’s almost pitch black when the screen loads, and my lips purse momentarily when I realize we’ve ended up in one of the cities with a higher difficulty level.

“Whoever dies last is the chosen one.”

“Not funny, Deer,” Lee huffs. “I hate this map.”

“I mean, if you think about it, this game really helps you get over your fear of the dark.”

“Or you could just bump up your gamma,” Jackson drolls. “So the dark isn’t that dark.”

“You always take the fun out of things, Shield.”

We each grab a flashlight from the base camp and start to make our way to the main entrance of the derelict building. Jackson and Lee make idle talk, but my eyes stray back to my second monitor where my chat seems to be glitching.

Scratch that.

It’s being spammed.

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

DeerHunter19384099: I kn0w where u L1v3

I blink and they are gone, deleted by one of my mods. The user, no doubt, blocked as well.

I’m careful to keep my smile on my face and even let out a short giggle as I force myself to breathe steady breaths and not freak out. There are over forty thousand people watching me right now. I will not have another panic attack.

I force myself to remain calm even though nausea roils in my gut and my heart beats with the force of a thousand elephants in my ear.

This isn’t the first time this has happened.

I have no idea who this person is—and at this point, I’m starting to think it might be an entire group—but they seem hell-bent on trolling me and harassing me. It’s been happening for months now, and this whole thing is eating me alive, like a zombie virus slowly taking over my system until I’m left as nothing but a skittish husk. They’re all empty threats; nothing has come from their weird comments or ominous DMs. Yet. And that’s the issue. With each passing day, with each stream, I get a little bit more paranoid.

What if they know who I am?

What if they do know where I live?

What if they do something?

A notification pops up on my phone, and I glance down to see a text from my main moderator, who is basically my personal assistant.

RICK: Blocked them and added the phrase to the list

RICK: Hope you’re ok

ME: Thanks :) I’m hanging in there

RICK: ok. LMK if you need anything

Rick’s a lifesaver. Without him, I’d be stuck monitoring and filtering through all my social media alone. I feel a little bad that he has to deal with a litany of dick pics, poems, and solicitations in my stead, but…better him than me.

“Shit.”

I totally zoned out.

“Hey, guys?”

I swivel my character around but don’t see either of them. Dammit. They seriously abandoned me? This map is hard enough as it is, let alone solo.

And after all that crap Jackson gave about being co-op. Hypocrite .

I head into the building and start calling out for them as I traverse the corridors. Yelling their names is a surefire way to get me killed if a wyrm is near, but it’s a chance I’ll take.

“Lee?” I shine my flashlight on and off, on and off, as I search for loot and my shitty teammates. “Leeeeeeee?”

“Just jump.”

I still at the sound of Jackson’s deep voice.

“If I miss, I’ll die,” she whines.

“If you stay there, you’ll also die.”

“Hey, guys?” I call out, continuing in the same direction.

“There you are,” he sighs. “Come watch Lee die.”

“Come watch me die? You bastard.”

I walk through an archway to find Lee’s character trapped on the other side of a broken bridge. She is perched on the railing and there’s a round slime creature on the ground trying to engulf her.

“You’re gonna need to jump, babes.”

“I know,” she grinds out.

“I’m giving you three seconds, then I’m leaving,” Jackson flatly announces.

“Fine!” she huffs. “God. I don’t know why I play these games with you two. If this was FrozeLine , you’d be eating your words.”

“Three—”

“I GET IT.” Lee’s character leaps across the bridge and barely lands on the side Jackson and I are on. “Seriously.”

“Come on. Let’s keep moving. Did you get any loot, Deer?”

“Mm. I got a stop sign.” I whip out the giant red sign I snagged on my way over and wave it around.

“Oh hey. Good shit.”

I smile at his praise. “Thanks.”

We start moving back down the corridor I passed through earlier, and Jackson stops in front of a locked door.

“Anyone have a key?”

“Yeah, I have one.” Lee pulls out a silver key. “Good thing I’m not dead, huh?”

The door swings open, and we are immediately greeted by three turrets.

Fuck.

So not good.

“Close the door!” I yell.

“Crap, crap, crap,” she chants as she scrambles to shut it right before the first bullet shoots out.

“Shit, that was close.”

Light suddenly pours into my streaming room, drowning out the pink ambient glow I’ve been basking in. My arms jerk in shock, and confusion washes over me at the deafening noises shouting over my headset.

“What the—” The words become stuck in my throat as I crane my neck to look behind me.

My breathing stutters. Sheer, unbridled panic lances through my frozen body as my eyes bounce between the guns pointed at me.

So many guns.

“Deer? What’s going on?”

I don’t risk answering Lee.

“What’s all that noise?”

Or Jackson.

Instead, I quickly raise my hands, careful not to spook the army of men filtering into my streaming room.

“Get on the ground,” they start shouting.

“Face on the ground!”

I practically throw myself off my gaming chair. My bare knees crash on the floor, and I bite back a wince. My headset slips off as I crush my chest against my rug.

Everything gets louder.

All the yelling.

So much yelling.

“Hands behind your back.”

“Hands behind your back, now.”

I scramble to do as they say.

My throat becomes clogged.

It’s getting harder to breathe, and my eyes begin to prick.

Someone grabs my wrist tightly and cold metal encloses it, but it doesn’t stop my entire body from shaking.

Oh my Gods.

Oh my fucking Gods.

This can’t be happening.