by Kitty Cox
"I know," she assured him. "It'll work out, Jason."
Chance was oddly quiet. When she looked over, his head was bent toward his lap where he had his phone cradled. Hearing the conversation pause, he looked up, smiling weakly. "Just checking the bank."
Dez's mouth flopped open. "Seriously?"
He shrugged. "I figure buying our buddy a few toys isn't really bribery, right? Can probably have Dad work something out if I have to, but Jason needs some gear."
"What?" Jason's eyes were wide.
"Look, bro, if you want to play these next-gen games, you're going to need something better than a laptop. Figure a top of the line video card – "
Once again the door opened, but this time laughter preceded the people. A second later, Sam and Tim stepped in, his arms twined around her waist. Seeing they weren't alone, both of them laughed harder.
"Doesn't count!" Sam insisted.
Tim was beaming. "Does too. Told ya those two would be in here."
Sam just shook her head. "But there's three, and you said they'd be making out."
"Fuck off."
Jason shoved his face into his hand, but a chuckle still made its way out. "I am not making out with them."
Pulling away from her boyfriend, Sam winked, then claimed the chair at the end of the table. "Such a shame. That would be some serious YouTube gold right there. Could make us rich."
"We already are," Tim reminded her.
"Ok, fair point." She sighed, letting her giggles die down. "And seriously, are we ruining a moment?"
Jason shook his head. "Nope. I was kinda hoping to talk to the Flawed team, actually."
Tim bobbed his head and pushed the door open again. "I can do that," he promised before disappearing.
Sam looked down the table at Dez. "This serious?"
"Our friends aren't done." Dez shrugged. "So, I'm thinking yeah."
"Fuck." Holding up a finger, Sam stood, following Tim out of the room.
For a moment, the three of them just looked at each other, completely confused. It didn't take long before she was back, carrying her purse. Without an explanation, she dropped it on the table and began rummaging inside, clearly looking for something.
"Tim's got Amy and they're rounding up the rest." Then she paused, pulling out a worn business card. "And Agent Raige? I think you need to look into this guy. We're pretty sure he's the fucker who doped Dez at F5."
"Jason," he reminded her, accepting the card. "Arturo Ganza, Cyber Magazine?" He pulled out his phone, his thumb tapping at the screen.
A moment later, a man's voice came across the speaker. Dez sucked in a breath. "That's him!"
Jason paused it. "Who?"
She looked over at Chance, grabbing his hand. "I heard him at the booth, talking to you. He was there."
"Where?" Jason asked again.
It was Chance who answered. "When she was abducted."
Dez nodded, bobbing her head quickly. "He was the one with the white shoes."
From behind her, Braden spoke up, leaning against the door frame. "He's also the asshole who drugged you, Dez."
Slowly, Jason laid his phone on the table. "Want to have him arrested?"
She swallowed, knowing everyone in the room was looking at her. The rest of the team was at the door, waiting for Braden to let them in. They all wanted her to answer the right way, but she had no idea what that was.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't want to do that again, and we can't prove it, but I don't want to just let him go."
"It's ok," Sam said, leaning forward so Dez would look at her. "No matter what you choose to do, it's the right answer. You've been through more than anyone deserves, Dez."
"And we won't let him get you," Braden promised.
She smiled up at him, honestly meaning it. "Thanks." Then she looked around the room. "All of you. I just don't want to say yes and screw this up, because we don't have a case."
"Then we'll make one," Jason assured her. "One where you don't have to be on the stand to get even."
After that, the talk shifted to plans. He explained his restrictions. They told him all about the big ideas they had for Eternal Combat. Lines were probably crossed, and if Dez had to guess, she had a feeling quite a few rules were being broken, but none of that mattered. She wasn't going to just let these people get away with something because the world had no idea how to treat crimes committed online. Jason explained how the legalities were murky. He ranted about his frustrations, and the team discussed ways to make things easier.
While the rest of the company partied, the people who'd started this all were doing the one thing they loved. They were solving the problem. They were finding a way to use their games to make lives a little bit easier. They were making not only an escape, but a haven for those who might need it, and Special Agent Jason Raige was going to be the guard dog.
I
t was almost dawn when the party finally died down. The Flawed team had broken up hours before. While Chance made sure the last of their employees heading home were either sober or calling a cab, Dez leaned over her computer. Her fingers were typing frantically. She had an idea, but that meant she needed to make a few changes, and she wanted to do it while no one was paying attention.
She was just finishing up when a soft nose pressed into her leg. Without thinking, she reached down to rub Master Chief's head. "Your person usually isn't too far behind you."
A chuckle proved her right. "I think you like him."
"I do." Pulling herself up, she stretched, well aware that she should have been in bed hours ago. "You crashing here for the night?"
He just pulled out a pack of smokes, tapping it to extract one. "Chance offered me one of the rooms. You cool with that?"
"Yep." She tilted her head to the loading bay. "Can I bum one of those from you?"
He offered her the one in his hand. "Always. You still go out here?"
To prove her point, she walked out first. "It's just a building, Jason." Then she tipped her head to the pale stain on the cement. "And hydrogen peroxide made sure that there's not any of that asshole left."
He just nodded, a sly twist to his lips. "And yet you moved the bench."
The wood bench she'd always used was long gone. In its place was a metal ashtray and trash can, the type that hovered around most store entrances. A few yards on the other side of the door was a better place to relax. Made of smooth wood and built to be comfortable, one word had been burned into the slats along the back. Flawed. Chance had it made to remind them all of why all of this mattered.
She claimed the right side, tilting her head to the space left over. "I figure you count as a bodyguard, considering you've already saved my life once."
A little huff slipped out, but he actually sat beside her. His dog quietly found a spot beside his feet. "You have any idea how many lives you're going to save?"
"Me?"
"Flawed." Flicking the lighter, Jason offered the flame to her first, then lit his own smoke. "It's not easy to be alone all the time, but it's harder to be around people. What you've done is give us a place where we can try to live."
"Yeah." She took a deep breath and leaned over her knees. "I'm not going to ask you what happened, Jason. It's none of my business, but if you ever need an ear, you have mine."
He nodded, saying nothing for a long moment. "Dez?" Jason didn't bother looking at her. "You're my hero. You know that?"
"Me?"
"Yeah." His voice was soft, keeping it between them. "You make me hope that a fuck up like me can actually be something."
She sucked back a long drag. "Not a fuck up," she said around the smoke, letting it drift out into the world. "Just flawed. We're all flawed in some way, and that makes it perfectly ok."
"I'm also jealous. Wish I could do something like this."
A smile touched her lips, and she slowly looked over. "I got you developer access."
"Huh?"
She reached
into her back pocket and pulled out a shiny black business card. The Deviant Games logo covered most of the front. Across the back were lines hand-written in purple ink. "Username, password, and how to change it. You're one step down from Chance and me."
"But..." His brow wrinkled in confusion.
Dez just shrugged. "Might make it easier to find the bad guys, right? Full access to anything Deviant makes. Besides, you're part of the Flawed team, even if you don't have the tattoo."
"I'll get it one day."
"Or not. Not everyone has one." She sucked on her cigarette again, then blew it out. "Least not on the outside."
"Thanks, babe. This our secret?" He lifted the card. "I mean Flawed's?"
"Yep."
"And Chance is ok with this?"
She nodded. "Told him I won't fuck anyone that isn't a redhead."
Jason actually laughed. "Then I'm never dying my hair red. Just make sure I get an invitation to the wedding, ok?"
"Not getting married." She looked back out to the grass. "Don't need some stupid ceremony with lots of people around to prove that I love him. He's cool with it."
"Nice." He ran his fingers over the card. "Probably not going to be back this way for a while. Might cause problems if too many people see my face."
"Don't need to come by to say hi. You know where to find me."
"And I'll make sure you always know where to find me." Then he leaned back, stretching his arm across the top of the bench. "And we're going to make sure these fucks can't do this to anyone else. I'll keep you in the background, but I'm going to need your help, Dez."
"Oh yeah," she breathed. "And you've got it. These assholes have no idea what we can do. It's our internet, not theirs."
"Exactly."
Without thinking, Dez leaned back, feeling his forearm just brush her shoulder, but she didn't care. She finally felt safe enough to not care that they were touching, and it was so nice. In the wee hours before dawn broke into the sky, only the sound of the paper crackling on the end of their smokes and their breath as they blew it all away could be heard. It was enough. Across from them, the moon turned the grass silver. Above them, the stars twinkled in a myriad of colors. This place should be filled with nightmares, but it wasn't. For Dez, this was where she'd learned how to be ok.
And for the first time in her life, she knew she finally was. She might not be perfect, but no one was.
Dear Reader,
When we decided to write a story about a rape survivor, we didn't want to make light of the trauma. Everyone, man or woman, deals with something like this differently, but it's always a serious subject. It's also not something that can be easily solved in a single story.
Sadly, sexism in gaming is real, and it's just as unbelievable as the Kings of Gaming hate group in this story seem to be. This series was inspired by some of the atrocities of GamerGate. As gamers ourselves, Kitty and Auryn watched, unable to keep from wondering, "what if that hadn't been stopped?" And thus Dez's story was born.
Read on for a teaser from Challenge Accepted, Gamer Girls #2, to meet the next soldier in this war, and for a list of more books. Each book in the Gamer Girls series will deal with a strong woman, the man who loves her, and the very real problems we all face. We hope you enjoy these books.
But what would really make us happy is a review. It doesn't matter if you loved or hated the book, each one helps. For an author, it's like a tip, showing us where we managed to succeed and those places we still need to work on. It also helps new readers find us, which means we get to keep writing (and paying the bills). Doesn't matter if you leave just a few words or a well thought out review, each one really does help, and we appreciate it more than you know.
To share your opinion about
FLAWED click here.
Check out Another Book
Gamer Girls: Challenge Accepted: Book 2
TRIGGER WARNING: Contains off-screen rape and assault, domestic violence, addiction, suicidal tendencies, phobias, bullying, cyber harassment, violence, and more. The Gamer Girls series is based on what could have happened during GamerGate. Each novel features strong women, the men who love them, and the games that let them escape reality. Contains graphic language and situations that are suitable for a mature audience. This book is a standalone novel which moves forward a larger story.
CHAPTER 1
The clicking of the keyboard was loud in the room, but Riley couldn't hear it. With music blaring in her headphones and the game sounds cranked up, the tapping of the keys didn't stand a chance. Her eyes flicked across the screen, scanning for the tell-tale movement of an enemy between the buildings. She touched the button on her mouse lightly while her left hand wove an elaborate pattern of forward, backward, and sideways. In the top right corner of her screen, a litany of names began to scroll: her victims.
"QQ, you're a damned hacker!"
The voice screamed in her ears, drowning out her favorite part of the song behind it. Riley couldn't resist the bait but – so they wouldn't hear her voice – she typed out her response.
[QQ] Cry more or Alt+Q+Q
The moment of distraction had been enough. Her screen flashed red. One click triggered a med-pack, but there wasn't enough time for it to work before her character made its last moan and fell face first into the dirt. The chat box erupted with gloating, her executioner bragging about his conquest to anyone that would listen. She just sighed and checked her kill count. Twelve. She was slipping, and if she wanted to get a paycheck from this, she had to be better.
But she could only play so many hours in a row, and it was time for a break. Pushing away from the desk, Riley flipped her brilliantly colored dreads back and glanced through the window, not surprised to see the mare still standing comfortably. This is how it went every year. That horse produced the best babies on the farm but had no interest in allowing her breeders to catch her at it. If she kept to the schedule, tonight was the night.
The room was dark, letting her see through the windows and into the barn, but it made walking to the kitchen as dangerous as traversing a mine field. Ok, not quite as dangerous, since stubbing her toe was nothing compared to blowing off a leg, but she liked the comparison. Too bad there weren't mine fields in the game. That could make things even more interesting.
Pouring a coffee, she wondered why she was doing this for the millionth time. Most people had a job. They woke up in the morning, headed into the office, and got a paycheck at the end of each week. Things would be so much easier like that, but she couldn't justify selling her soul by the hour for something that she couldn't care about. Whether it was welcoming people to Wal-Mart or answering the phone for some stuck on himself CEO, it wouldn't take long before her disorderly mouth had her looking for another job.
Riley knew that all too well. She'd tried, time and time again, to be the girl the world expected, and time and time again, she simply couldn't force herself. It wasn't until her parents died that she began to realize it must be a family trait. They'd kept this farm running on little more than hopes and prayers for decades, shoving their way into a world that was as secretive as the Illuminati.
She chuckled at the comparison. Breeding Shire horses was more like conspiracy theories than she'd ever guessed, but at least her mother had kept good notes. She'd also raised a daughter with a love for the dramatic.
With a brimming cup of coffee, she traversed the mine field of the living room one more time, making her way to the soft glow of her monitor. Setting her cup on the corner of the cheap desk, she looked through the window, a flare of excitement brimming when the mare flicked her tail. It died just as quickly when the very pregnant horse dropped her head and went back to sleep. That meant she had time for another round.
Her game of choice this week was a persistent world first person shooter. It never stopped. There were no true rounds, only an endless cycle of killing and dying just to re-spawn and kill again. With less downtime, it gave her an intense rush as she tried to keep up with the big names i
n gaming. Clicking a hot spot on the map, the loading screen flashed. She emerged from the spawn tube, checked her loadout, and was back in the thick of things.
The staccato of her gun was loud in her ears, a sharp contrast to the deceptively lyrical but depressing music behind it. This time, it was a large outpost, and she was against insane odds. For every one man on her side, there were at least six on the other. That meant more targets, but also more chances to overextend. Don't rush, she reminded herself, attacking as she pushed forward. That was the best way to end up dead, and her kill count couldn't afford a stupid move.
Her pinky flicked the tab key. Seven kills already, she saw as she strafed around the corner. A glimmer warned her of a stealther and, with a tap of a finger, she knifed him, adding one more death to her total.
That's when all hell broke loose.
Her screen registered a hit. She crouched, spinning behind cover while checking the mini-map. Riley knew better than to stand still in a game like this – she retreated, only to come face to face with one of the biggest names in gaming. Above his character, in glaring red letters, she read "Void".
Smashing G1, a long acting med-pack went off. She twitched her wrist, aiming for his head, but he was faster. Rounds hit her character, destroying her aim. They both moved, trying to outflank the other. Keys tapped louder and louder as she hammered at them, the green squares of her life slowly disappearing. Then he got just a bit too close. She tapped the mouse twice and flicked the knife, seeing the kill counter in the bottom of her screen at the same moment her own turned red.
