Talent And Treachery

It took hours for Hans to beat that same boss which Naz beat in minutes, but once he achieved the feat it was a feeling like no other he’d experienced before. And was undoubtedly the hardest single achievement he had ever made in a game and because of that kept playing.

Continuing on the difficulty remained; the severity of the action and ability for enemies to make swift work of the health bar, which showed up after the initial victory, meant that Hans never stopped feeling on edge or desperate.

Even when Naz said he wanted to get back to working on it, the game unable to run at the same time, Hans had begged for more time. He’d been given it but ultimately had no choice but to relinquish the chair back to its owner so he could continue with work on the project.

Though, did not return to working on the unnamed game until he’d asked the blonde man, “What do you think?”

“You’ve got to finish it. Release it. It’ll sell a billion copies. But you need to put saves in, please.”

“OK, I’ll take a look at that next. I’ll even set you up with one so you can continue from where you left off.” Are the promises made by the wild haired Nazim.

“Wait, what? You can do that?” Hans’ shocked by the revelation.

“Yeah, course I can. It’s a linear game. It’s not open world. It just gives the illusion that it is. Though, I was considering on making it open once the first chapter is complete.” Is the admittance which comes from the games’ designer.

“That is only the first chapter? I’ve been at it for hours!”

Usually, with the sort of titles Hans plays, he completes them in about as long as he’s spent thus far on what his roommate has built.

“Yeah, that’s the rough plan and it is rough. I’ve got to stress that.”

“Don’t you think you should get some help?”

Speaking frankly Naz admits, “Nah, I like working on this alone. It’s my project, my baby. Let others in and they might want to change things.”

“But it’s yours so you’d be…”

“Ha ha, it doesn’t quite work like that Hans. Trust me on this. And besides, I want the challenge. I enjoy it.”

“But… But I want to play more.” The downtrodden sounding roommate says with a lowered head and averted gaze.

“Sorry, but I gotta work on it; maybe in a few days you can have another go.”

“A few days! Argh, that sucks.” Hans is outraged and deflated all at once. He even turns and plods away heading back to his room which once inside of he turns on his console and…

There is nothing he wants to play. At least nothing that isn’t the game his roommate is building anyway. Somehow he manages to whittle away the remainder of the day. If you asked the blonde he wouldn’t be capable of telling you how. Principally that is because the only thing he can think about is the game. He craves it, needs it. And so he devises a plan. One he then discards believing it to be insane and only having been dreamt up due to the lateness of the hour.

Turning in for the night, Hans tries but cannot get a good night’s rest. He tosses and turns, his mind continuing to focus on the game. Then in the dead of night he awakens and debates whether to get out of bed. He tries, only to find the air too chilly and his body refuse to move. He curses this development but does manage to dream up a name for the product, which he jots down eager to reveal it to Naz. Whether the designer is asleep or not, he cannot say for definite. Their rooms you see are on opposite sides of the apartment, their main living space nestled in-between.

Fitful sleep eventually arrives for the blonde and lasts until the new day arrives, with dawn having broken not long ago.

Naz always gets up early, and feeling unable to delay any longer Hans does to. He greets his roommate, who is more than a little shocked that his not-at-all a morning person roommate is awake.

If the wild haired man didn’t know better he’d conclude Hans has been out partying again, a frequent pursuit that often sees him rolling into their apartment at three or four o’clock in the morning. Yet, the blonde didn’t go out last night. At least not as far as Naz is aware, and he should know for he was up relatively late, midnight, working on the game.

“I thought of a name for your game…” Is the very next thing Hans blurts following the initial exchange of pleasantries.

“Oh yeah, cool. You feeling alright Hans, you look beat?”

“I didn’t get much sleep to be honest. Too busy thinking about… Well, how about this for a name, Rise of Qwera.”

The insinuation, left unspoken but clear as day is one Naz cannot miss, and it is that Hans has spent all night thinking about the game Naz has built. If their roles were reversed, in as far as who was awake all night, then the scruffy haired designer could understand it, but this… he cannot.

“That’s not bad, might be on my list already though.” Is the honest reply from Naz before he realises he’s said it. Once he does there is no doubting that it’s too late to take back, change. After all, time doesn’t work like that. It’s linear, flows in a single direction. God, he hates knowing so much.

Eyes lit up Hans blurts eagerly, “Oh, you have a list. Could I take a look at it?”

“Um, sure Hans; err, maybe later. I need some coffee and breakfast before I start for the day, yeah? Looks like you could do with something similar.”

“Nah, I’m all good. But if you’re eating could I maybe…?” The blonde man replies and begins to ask only to trail off and leave his statement incomplete. Not that it needs completing because it is pretty obvious what he is hankering after.

Against his better judgement Naz replies, “Yeah, knock yourself out. You’ve got about an hour. I set up a save state. It’s a bit rough but it’s got a dummy save. It works… -ish, and will start you from roughly where you were, roughly I think.”

“Awesome! Thanks Naz.” The man blurts rushing off to Naz’s room without a seconds thought.

Once inside, he jumps into the chair, does a half spin, claims a controller, fires up the game, loads the save, grins in awe at its success and then dives right into progressing as much as he can in the time that’s been offered to him.

In fact, so engrossed does Hans become in playing that when Naz shouts to know if his roommate wants anything he offers no reply, having note heard the query whatsoever.

Then when Naz comes in, having finished his breakfast, to begin a fresh day of work that is in no way related to his degree in programming, which he is four months ahead on, Hans does not notice that either. Until the designer, programmer, genius utters, “Hans, times up buddy. I gotta get to work.”

“Aw, come on. Please, a little longer?”

“Dude, if you want this game done then you need to let me…”

“Fine.” The obsessed gamer spits, his arms flailing as he throws the controller onto Naz’s bed, huffing and puffing like a child, a big one at that.

Then without another word he stomps out of Naz’s room, over to the couch where he plonks himself down, folding his arms across his chest so he can continue to sulk.

Shocked by the display, Naz elects not to say another word and instead get on with what he’d had planned. Said period of peace lasts little more than an hour and is ended when Hans wraps frantically on Naz’s door forcing the man to take an unwanted break and ask, “What is it Hans?”

His question uttered in a tone which masks the irritation he feels at having been distracted when he was in a good, productive groove.

“Any chance I can take a look at that list?” Says the sheepish man who’s demeanour is far closer to that of a guilty child’s than the adult that he is.

Still, following a roll of his eyes Naz relents and assures, “Sure, give me a sec. I’ll fish it out and hand it over.”

The wild haired man turns and steps away from the door giving Hans a view of the monitors, three in total, which are mounted on the desk. His jaw drops but in his shock somehow he still manages to utter, “What is that?”

A quick glance from the designer answers the question as to what Hans is referring to and is followed by, “Oh, it’s just an interested party. Sent them a prototype a few weeks back, they just got back to me to say they’re interested.”

“You’re selling the idea on?” The big blonde guy cannot believe it he is so incredulous.

“Oh no. Hell no. They’re a publisher. And it’s only an email to say they’re interested. I’ve had a few. Nothing has ever come of them. For all I know they might be automated. If I knew people in game dev I’d ask, but I don’t so…”

“Aren’t you worried they might steal your ideas?”

“No. It’s an email, means there is a trail. You’d have to be pretty stupid to steal anything with that existing. Besides it was a small slice. Far less than you’ve seen, and it’s changed a bit since then as it was an older build. Don’t think I even have it anymore it was so rough. “

“But, I thought this was a secret. It should be, our secret. You the designer, me the…” Hans doesn’t know what he is but Naz doesn’t like the proposal. It makes it sounds as though they are in this together, a team; they aren’t. This project is Naz’s alone. He only let Hans try it to get some feedback. He still hasn’t provided any really and his roommate has put a decent number of hours into it now. Hell, he’ll hit the end point of what’s been built thus far in maybe another 30 minutes of play time.

“Hans, I’m thrilled you love the game but…”

Suddenly the blonde man throws himself at Nazim, grabs him by the collar of his t-shirt and lifts him off the floor before slamming him into the nearby wall. “Don’t take this away from me, Naz. We’re in this together.”

Fearful of his roommates angry tone the diminutive Naz replies, “Err, sure Hans, sure. We’re… we’re in this together.” Stammers the held aloft man who knew his roommate had a temper but never thought he might end up on the receiving end of it.

Sure, Naz wouldn’t have been shocked if Hans had ended up in a bar fight, or something like that, but threatening him, over a game! That is madness. So when, a couple minutes later, during which Naz felt it necessary to continue his assurances, he is lowered and returned to solid ground, his conclusion is that he needs to get out of here and away from Hans. Sooner rather than later would be best, by which he means tonight.

“Can I have that list now?” Asks the blonde man as if nothing has happened.

“H-Here it is.” Is the response stuttered during the handoff.

“Thanks.” Hans utters alongside the issuing of a nod. Right after he does an about and leaves Naz’s room eager and excited to pour over the document he’s been provided.

With his space once more his own and him the only one occupying it, Naz shuts his door and barricades it with items he are sure are not up to task, namely a bedside table.

Heart pounding in his chest, the genius tries to calm himself. It doesn’t really work and so ultimately he returns to working. That helps, enormously, and soon sees him forget about Hans. Until there is a fresh set of knocks on his door, which send surges of panic up and into his throat.

Somehow, he manages to shout that he’ll be right there. However, Hans doesn’t want to come in. Rather, he slides the list of potential game names under the door admitting, “There’s a tonne of good stuff there, but I’ve ringed the ones I think should be on the shortlist. Have a look, see if you agree. Maybe we can pick a name in the next couple days.”

“A-Absolutely yeah, I’ll take a look and we’ll go over it tomorrow.” A plan has formed in Naz’s mind in the wake of this little powwow. Yet, he doesn’t dare think too closely on it for fear his roommate might somehow learn of it if he does. How, he hasn’t a clue.

Thankfully, the plan demands almost no additional planning or equipment past a storage drive, which he has, and himself.

Checking the time, startled to see how late it is, Naz finishes what he’d been working on, which takes another couple hours, saves and backs up the data, then locks his PC and grabs his jacket.

Now more than ever, because it has never really been important until today, has he been so relieved he has a password set for when he locks his PC. If he didn’t have one, or know how to, Hans would be capable of gaining access to everything and… He doesn’t know. But it seems as though his obsession has, stupidly fast, gone from simply playing the game to muscling in so that he is part of it, maybe wanting ownership of it too.

Sorry, but that’s not happening Fitzgerald. You’ve only kept me around since we were kids to copy my work, or get me to do it for you. We aren’t really friends. And never have been. We used each other. You got decent grades and I got protection, so I wouldn’t be bullied. But the deals turned sour. I’m not being a part of it anymore. This is mine, all of it, and it’s staying that way.

Naz stashes the drive in his pocket, zips it tight, checks it is safe and then opens his window. He clambers through the gap and onto the fire escape. This room hadn’t been his choice, the other had but he is beyond happy Hans insisted on having that room now or otherwise this plan would not be possible.

Regardless, the wild haired man is careful to not make too much noise as he creeps across the metal fire escape, then down one flight of steps, round and down the next.

It’s a process he repeats three more times and then finds himself faced with a ladder, raised and locked in place. Mercifully, there is no padlock, as is commonplace to secure these ladders from criminals, wayward children, etc. Rather, there is only a bolt and with a quick sharp pull it comes loose. The ladder in reaction to the retracted bolt lets out a loud rushing racket that dead-ends with a sudden boom to signal the end to its downward extension. The boom, both its volume and sudden appearance, send Naz recoiling terrified of potential repercussions.

Hence, that is why in the wake of it he remains perfectly still, motionless like a statue.

No event, unfortunate or otherwise, transpires and so feeling time is of the essence. After all, who knows how long it might be until Hans knocks on his bedroom door, then breaks it down when he doesn’t answer only to discover he’s gone, with the game, might be.

How will he know the game is gone? Is the query he hears uttered by his own voice in his head.

The wild haired Naz doesn’t have an answer but having completed his descent of the ladder feels it is not of import as he turns and then begins a brisk paced walk.

It such a pace it shouldn’t take him long to cross from the alley, at the base of the fire escape ladder, to its mouth and the main street which it connects to.

Out of nowhere a large mass appears. Too late Naz realises it is Hans.

“You are not taking the game from me.” Is the declaration made with surety by the big blonde man.

“Hans, what…? I don’t know…”

“Don’t lie. I saw what you did.”

“How?” Naz spits confused.

“I placed a camera in your room.”

“You’re insane.”

“No. I’m a survivor. It’s how the Fitzgerald’s stay on top.”

“By stealing what belongs to others.”

“Pfft, like you wouldn’t if you had the chance.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“Hand it over.” The blonde guy demands with an outstretched hand, ignoring the retort by his roommate and ‘friend.’

A pause follows. During it Naz weighs up his options. He doesn’t like any of them. Nevertheless, he shoves his hand in his pocket and begins to fish around for… All of a sudden he changes tact and rushes off, at full tilt.

Grumbling, Hans follows suit; regrettably the big blonde guy is quicker. He grabs Naz, then tackles him. The pair tumble end over end, out of the alley and onto the street illuminated with bright dazzlingly lights.

“HELP!” The designer of the unnamed game screams desperate for aid at this late hour, believing he might get some because he is out on the street, a main avenue, and not in a dark alley.

After all, let’s face it; no one is going to go diving down a dark alley into potential danger, especially if they can’t see what said potential danger might be. That is doubly so if they don’t know whoever is calling for aid.

Out on a brightly lit street on the other hand…

Well the reality is that no one comes to Naz’s aid. Rather, he is left to be smashed in the jaw by a balled fist from Hans. If the man did not have hold of him he’d likely have spun away. Still, the smaller man with wild hair attempts to wriggle free. Alas, with the bigger man atop him it’s naught but futile attempts that prove how desperate and scared he is.

“It’s mine. You can’t take it from me.” Is the assurance made by Hans who continues to punch Naz as those on the street serve as onlookers but nothing else.

Many even film what is happening with their phones, but none make any effort to intervene.

“Help, please! Don’t let him do this. He’s going to kill me.”

“Good idea. But first…” The large man’s hand dives into a pocket. It finds nothing and so Naz is spun round only to be pressed harder still into the concrete giving Hans access to more of the pockets.

It takes barely thirty seconds for him to find the drive, claim it and then flip Naz onto his back once more.

“Is there a password? Tell me, Naz. Tell me now!” The threat for not telling is clear as day and so the wild haired genius admits, “N-No.”

A smile splits across Hans’ face because he is most pleased by the answer provided to him. Then he stashes the drive about his person and…

Naz uses all his strength to deliver a fierce knee to Hans’ groin. It has the desired effect, the man falls back groaning painfully, releasing Naz as he cups his testicles.

Free and believing this to be his only opportunity Naz scrambles away. Several failed attempts follow until he is back on his feet, barely. Yet, he offers no hesitation in rushing away, determined to put some distance between himself and Hans.

“You’ll never get away with this. And have no way of finishing it either. You know that. You need me.”

“Then join me. Stop trying to run away.”

“No! I made it. It’s mine. Fuck you!”

A shrug from Hans, who has managed to stagger back to his feet, follows.

The look on the big man’s face is one Nazim really doesn’t like the look of. It suggests that…

Hans explodes into a barrelling run. Naz’s eyes go wide. Sadly his body does not obey his demands to run. Rather, he finds himself locked in position, a passenger, a viewer able only to watch as Hans grow ever closer until…

The blonde guy doesn’t tackle his ‘friend,’ rather he grabs hold of him and lifts him clear off the ground. Throughout this lifting process Naz kicks. One hit drives hard into Hans’ gut. As a result the pair of them go over, only to roll into the road. At this hour there aren’t many cars but those that there are blow their horns, swerving to avoid the living obstacles which have entered a space not meant for them.

Hans is the first to his feet. He flips off several of the drivers who curse angrily in response but offer no signs of stopping.

Sadly, just as Naz is getting to his feet, Hans grabs him again and pulls him in close, so they are face-to-face.

“One last chance, cause the game is mine now. You can’t win, you know that right?”

“Fuck…” Naz begins but never gets to finish as at the first sight of the scowl on his face, Hans shoves him back.

A horn blows. Both Naz and Hans look and see bright headlights danger close.

Screeching tyres morph with cries of panic, then a bang follows. It’s the sort which only results when a vehicle and body collide. Right after there is more screaming. And at last people, onlookers, begin to flock toward the scene of the disaster.