Player vs Player

by Amelia C. Gormley

  He moved away from the computer to let Tim take over, experimenting with creating an avatar. Niles had to look away from the way the red-gold hairs on his forearms seemed to gleam in the lamplight. Goddamn it. Tim had always had this effect on him, ever since the day they paired up in chemistry class. For a while there in his idiotic youth, he’d thought it was love at first sight.

  Now he knew better. Lust at first sight. Apparently however much he didn’t think getting involved again with Tim was a good idea, his hormones were still tuned in to those memories.

  He cleared his throat and stared at the computer resolutely. “You can see we have a lot of options for the player character’s physical appearance. Not just face and hair and skin color, either. It costs more to produce, but it was important to Rosie that we include realistic physiques, something beyond the idealized muscle-bound barbarian and super-stacked warrior princess. But anyway, let’s go ahead and load up one of my saved games so you can get right into meeting the NPCs.”

  Niles scooted forward again, reaching for the computer before he realized just how close it would press him against Tim’s side. He felt Tim’s breath against his ear, ruffling the ends of his hair where it brushed his neck.

  “You smell just as good as I remember.”

  Niles shuddered, his fingers fumbling to grasp the mouse and navigate to the character-selection screen and then to pick an avatar at a stage in the game where he had been introduced to all the companion NPCs. “I thought you weren’t going to—”

  “Change of plans. I’m definitely going to.” Tim shifted, planting one knee into the sofa cushions behind Niles where he bent over to reach the laptop. He thrust his hands under the edge of Niles’s shirt. His fingers spread, staking a presumptuous claim to Niles’s skin. Niles bolted upright, and then Tim’s lips were against his neck, warm and moist and open, sucking just below his ear.

  “Tim—”

  “Show me the game,” Tim breathed against his skin, teeth grazing up and down his neck. Tim’s hands rounded Niles’s ribs, his fingers seeking the hard dots of Niles’s nipples. The portion of Niles’s brain that wasn’t sure this was a good idea whimpered, but its protestations were getting weaker with each passing second. It had been shunted over into the passenger seat, desperately clutching the Oh-Jesus handle while his libido steered them at breakneck speed down a one-way street that would dead-end with Tim between his thighs.

  A quick jerk of the wheel and Niles turned, twisting to catch Tim’s mouth as it dove in for another pass at his neck. A flurry of movement ended in a jolt, and then he was on his back, Tim pressing him down into the sofa. His hands fisted in the shoulders of Tim’s shirt as their lips ground together, Tim’s tongue thrusting deep into Niles’s mouth.

  “Oh God.” Niles wasn’t quite sure which of them groaned the words, but it probably didn’t matter. Tim’s thigh was between his legs, snugged up nice and tight against the crotch of his jeans, rubbing against his dick and nuts, and Tim’s hand was in his hair, taking over the kiss with a brand of aggression Niles remembered far, far too well. He tasted like beer and something salty he must have snacked on before coming over, and Niles seized the moment when Tim withdrew for a panting breath, and he ran his tongue along Tim’s lips to sample that flavor further. Hot puffs of breath exploded against Niles’s mouth, and he gripped Tim tighter, licking a wet trail down the stubbled column of his neck.

  “Niles . . .” Tim pulled him back by the hair for another kiss, rocking that thigh against his crotch again, tempting Niles to grip it between his own and just start dry humping. His hands moved from Tim’s shoulders to his back, where he grabbed twin handfuls of Tim’s T-shirt and rucked it up to his armpits. And then there was skin. Acres of pale, freckled flesh covering that broad back and wrapping around massive shoulders. He felt warm and hard and so fucking good. Niles’s misgivings didn’t have a chance when pitted against the feel of Tim’s body on his.

  When Tim broke away again, there was a growl riding the undertone of his words. “If you don’t plan on us fucking tonight, better let me know now.”

  At some point when Niles wasn’t paying attention, his reservations had been evicted from riding shotgun and were now bound and gagged in the trunk. He peeled Tim’s shirt over his head, panting, “Bedroom,” because those two syllables were all he could manage to convey where they’d find the condoms and lube.

  Wild-eyed, Tim pushed his weight off Niles to let him up.

  It was three o’clock in the morning, and Niles lay looking up at the ceiling as Tim snored softly beside him. His body ached in all the best ways, and he should have been worn out because Tim was as enthusiastic a lover as he had been back in college—and considerably more skilled these days—but his mind refused to rest.

  It was a horrible idea to get involved with Tim again. Forget their history, between the harassment and the shock of the murders, Niles was in no shape to be making good decisions and he knew it. He didn’t want to use Tim the way he had Daniel, for the sake of escapism and just to feel something other than dread and grief.

  Suppressing a sigh, he eased himself out from under the covers—and Tim’s arm—stepping into a pair of sweats before padding barefoot down the stairs.

  His laptop sat on the coffee table still, the screensaver swirling before Niles’s eyes. He grimaced at it, as if it were the computer’s fault he’d slept with Tim.

  Well, if he couldn’t sleep, he might as well work. He pulled it onto his lap and pressed the touchpad. The save-game screen, complete with its lineup of companion characters, confronted him, and he found himself staring at it, zeroing in on Issis and Gairi. God, how could he even continue to work on them without thinking about Charity and Lakshmi?

  “Can’t sleep?”

  Niles jumped, nearly fumbling the laptop. “Jesus fuck! How did you make it down the stairs without them creaking?” He pressed a hand to his chest, which ached with the racing of his heart and the surge of adrenaline.

  When he’d calmed down, Tim was leaning over the back of the sofa behind him, staring at the characters on the laptop screen. He reached out as if he was going to brush his fingers over the images of Issis and Gairi.

  “How are things going with the case?” Niles asked, his throat tight.

  “Right now we’re trying to track down the guys who may have harassed the girls at the convention. It’s slowgoing. Most of them were from out of state, and the rest have alibis.”

  “You know what’s creepy?” Niles looked at the screen once more. “I didn’t realize it until listening to the news yesterday, because I’ve been trying to avoid knowing too many details about the murders—I don’t want that in my head—but Lakshmi’s body washed up in the river. And in the DLC we’re in production on, the one that has had spoilers leaked, Gairi has a moment when he nearly dies when someone almost throws him into a river.”

  Tim went still. “What?”

  The reaction made Niles’s adrenaline surge again, reducing him to a nervous stammer. “Well, he’s taken captive by slavers, see, and the guy who rescues him has a grudge and is about to throw him into the river—”

  “What about Charity— I mean, Issis?” Tim’s posture was tense now, his voice sharp and demanding. “Is she bludgeoned?”

  “Almost.” Oh God. This sinking feeling in his stomach was going to make him sick. “She’s a mercenary, and there’s a scene where she meets with some buyers on a tech deal, where they plan to double-cross her, but the PC interrupts the attack.”

  “Fuck.” Tim jerked his phone out of his breast pocket and dialed. “Payne? It’s the game. Someone is recreating the game the victims were cosplaying for.”

  For a moment, the world blurred around the edges and his hands grew tingly. So this was what it felt like to nearly faint. “Oh no. God, no.”

  Well, that didn’t take long.

  Jordan arrived at the studios around 6 a.m. to find Niles leaning over the back of Tim Wyatt’s chair, walking him through Phoenix Force 3 on
one of the gaming rigs they used to test code. He shook his head with wry amusement.

  Niles glanced up and no doubt accurately read his expression. “Not a word,” he warned.

  His brother was pale and drawn, which pissed him off because Niles had just started to get his feet under him after the shocks of the last week. Jordan frowned and looked at Rosie, who was propping up the wall, her arms folded over her chest, her mouth in a grim line, letting Niles do most of the talking. Detective Payne still hadn’t arrived, but then, they were all early.

  “I noticed our friends from the Coalition for Responsible Media are back, setting up out front,” he murmured to Rosie, taking up station beside her and watching Niles and Tim. “Tell me they haven’t gotten wind of this.”

  “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” Rosie grimaced. “I don’t want anything in our handling of this to even hint at opportunism. Our hearts and prayers are with the victims’ families, and we are assisting the police in whatever way necessary. That’s it. End of story.”

  Jordan bristled. “Come on, Rosie. I may be a marketing guy but even I’m not that sleazy.”

  “Sorry.” She shot him a contrite look.

  Jordan leaned close to her ear, whispering, “Is there any talk that this person might be after Niles?”

  “No.” Her denial was so sharp and sudden that Tim and Niles jerked around to look at the two of them. Rosie offered them a wan smile. “Sorry. Excuse us.” She grabbed Jordan’s elbow and led him down the hall to her office, closing the door behind them and hissing, “Why would you even think such a thing?”

  “After the threats you and Niles have been receiving, how could I not?” Rosie narrowed her eyes at him, but Jordan glared right back. He rubbed the back of his skull, where a scab still formed a crust under his hair from the rock’s impact. “Someone tried to bash my brother in the head, if you recall. Charity and Lakshmi were dressed as the two most controversial characters in PF3, who you both have used to make statements about sexual politics and racial and queer issues, and you and Niles spoke to the victims within hours of their disappearances. And now it’s obvious that whoever did it has access to spoiler details about the game, including the upcoming DLC, and Patrick Rutledge and Daniel Fortesen—both of whom are fairly close to Niles—aren’t answering their phones.”

  She immediately looked stricken. “Oh Jesus.”

  “I know.” He sank into the chair across the desk from her, casting a yearning eye at the empty coffeemaker on her filing cabinet. “Have you shown the cops those drawings yet?”

  “No, why would I— Oh God, the spoilers.” She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders rising and falling as she drew several breaths. “I’ve barely slept since Thursday. I keep thinking about Charity and Lakshmi. And when I do sleep, I dream about them. I should have realized—” She stalked over to her computer and with a few clicks, began printing off the series of drawings he’d discovered on one of the fan-run forums that was known to host a lot of Third Wave critics.

  Jordan sighed as the images printed. “You know, I’d be a lot less happy about my brother fucking Tim Wyatt again if not for the fact that it means he’ll be spending his off-work time with a cop.”

  “What? Huh?” Rosie spluttered. “Niles and Detective Wyatt? When did that happen?”

  “Back in college. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “As if things weren’t interesting enough.” She grabbed the printouts and he followed as she stalked back down to the lab, where Detective Payne had arrived and was asking questions about the game.

  “Good morning, Angie,” she said, shaking the detective’s hand. “Jordan just brought to my attention something you two should see. Do you think we could all go sit down in the conference room and talk?”

  He watched the solicitous way Tim hovered over Niles as they made the transition, grateful that he at least realized just how hard Niles was taking this. When they were seated, Rosie slid the printouts across the table to the detectives.

  “Jordan found those yesterday on a nonaffiliated fan forum. As you can see, whoever drew them had access to spoilers about the game, particularly the details of the DLC currently in production, which whoever killed Lakshmi Agrawal would have to know as well, if her death was imitating the game.”

  Detective Payne’s gaze sharpened, and she snatched up the pages, scanning through the comic-style panels. Niles’s expression was still pinched, but as she passed them to her partner, he added, “There are panels of the other characters dying, as well. I’m not sure how relevant that is.”

  “Who had access to these spoilers?” Tim asked.

  “Everyone who works here, obviously.” Rosie’s mouth was pulled into a tight line, even as she spoke. “Some other people associated with our production, like the recording studio where our voice actors do their dialogue. And—” she flicked a glance at Niles “—a columnist from The LEET News who Niles did an interview with last Thursday.”

  “The LEET News?” Detective Payne looked dubious. “What kind of publication is that?”

  “It’s a trade rag.” Rosie shrugged wryly. “The name is an outdated bit of gaming jargon. Don’t ask.”

  “If those spoilers were leaked on the internet, thousands of people could have them now,” Niles said too quickly, leaning forward with an anxious expression. “It doesn’t have to be one of our people or someone we know.”

  “Niles, honey, these spoilers weren’t made public,” Rosie said with gentle certainty. “They would have been all over the internet, and we haven’t found a thing.”

  “If the columnist didn’t have the details until Thursday, that’s too late,” Tim pointed out. “Our perp knew a week earlier, before Lakshmi Agrawal was killed.”

  Detective Payne nodded slowly. “Whoever did these drawings has a personal connection to whoever had access to the spoilers. Same for the murderer.”

  Niles eyes widened. “You think the artist is the killer?”

  Tim shook his head. “It’s too early to say. We just need to follow the connection. If we track down the source of these spoilers, we’ll know more.”

  “We’ve had an intern stop coming in.” Jordan gave Niles an apologetic glance when he opened his mouth to protest. “Patrick Rutledge. He worked on the writing staff, so he would have known the details of the game. I’m not saying he spread them intentionally, but if he confided these details to someone and then it got out that there was a leak, he seems like the kind of kid who might hide from that rather than own up to it.”

  “We’ll check into it,” Detective Payne said. “Tell me which site you found these on. Wyatt, can you tell Cyber to work on getting a warrant for their user records? I’m going to sit down and familiarize myself with this game. I want to play it through, beginning to end, see what other details we might find in there. The whole thing.”

  “There’s ninety-eight hours of gameplay to get through the core storyline, and about twenty more if you do all the side missions,” Rosie warned.

  “Guess you better get started, Payne,” Tim gloated with a smirk. “Better you than me. Niles has showed me enough this morning to make it clear that I don’t get video games, so I’ll be hanging out with Bryan in Cyber if you need me.”

  “Go. Home.” Niles’s frustration with his brother was reaching the boiling point, but Jordan remained stubbornly seated behind his desk. “Seriously, Jordie. Go home and take one of your pills. You’re not supposed to be working this week.”

  “No way. This has the potential to be a PR disaster. I need to be on top of it.”

  “You need to recover from getting bashed in the head!”

  “I need to be with my brother!” Jordan snapped, and Niles jumped. Jordan never spoke sharply to him. Ever.

  He rose from his desk and crossed the room to Niles. “Someone’s trying to hurt you,” he said gently, gripping Niles’s shoulders. Niles closed his eyes. He kept losing track of the fact that he was the likely object of the attack on Jordan. The idea that
someone would target him violently seemed unreal, and Jordan being injured was all too real. “Maybe the person who hurt Charity and Lakshmi, or maybe not, but we need to stick together right now, okay?”

  “Okay.” He wrapped his arms around Jordan’s waist and hugged tightly, breathing in his brother’s scent. He just let himself feel the moment, feel Jordan. Familiar. Safe. Home. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered plaintively. “Not about Tim, not about Daniel, not about Patrick, not about the murders. I don’t know what to do, Jordie.”

  “You’ll be okay. Why don’t you come stay with me until the police get to the bottom of this?” He could hear what Jordan wasn’t saying as if he’d spoken it anyway. Jordan’s building had a lobby, a security door, cameras in the elevators.

  “I can’t—” He buried his head in the crook of Jordan’s neck, blushing. “Tim.”

  “Oh, gee, if you stay in my apartment, you won’t be able to fuck the guy who broke your heart. What a shame.”

  Niles huffed a watery chuckle. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Niles continued to hold on to Jordan, and Jordan let him. He always knew when Niles was regressing to their preschool days when he wouldn’t sleep unless he was wrapped around his brother. Sometimes Niles needed that connection. Jordan, too, he knew, but Jordan had other ways of expressing it.

  He was considering pulling away when Rosie came dashing into the office. “Turn on the TV. We’ve got a problem.”

  Jordan jerked back, reaching for the remote, while Rosie caught her breath.

  “The news has a story that Patrick Rutledge’s stepfather has filed a missing person’s report. And someone on the forums has drawn a connection between that and the murders being linked to Third Wave.”

  “Rosie, Eliza is right. You cannot talk to him.”

  Rosie glared at Jordan as she paced her office after Eliza Muldrake of Stanton, Cobb, and Muldrake, Third Wave’s lawyer on retainer and an old college friend of Rosie’s, had left. Niles sat beside him with his head bowed. He hadn’t said a word since she had brought them the news of Patrick’s disappearance.