Flawed (Eternal Combat Book 0)

by Kitty Cox

When she sucked the lollipop into her mouth, he didn't let go, turning it gently before pulling it away to find his own mouth again. Dez grabbed her glass and finished the last of her whiskey in a single gulp. Only then did she stand, well aware that her head was still a bit light.

  "Hey," he called before she could walk away. "I only have one request of my partner."

  "What's that?"

  "Tell me before you quit."

  Dez nodded. "I can do that, but I kinda feel like I have a goal, you know?"

  "Yeah. Me too." He sighed. "And that bitch smelled like too much perfume."

  "It can't be that bad. I'll take the couch."

  He lifted an eyebrow. "How do you know I wasn't talking about the bedroom?"

  She pointed at the windows. "You forgot to close the blinds."

  "Enjoy the show?"

  She tilted her head slightly. "Did you want me to?"

  Chance licked his lips. "Yes."

  Dez smiled and turned to the stairs, refusing to answer. Two could play at this game, and she'd been doing it longer. The rules between them had just changed, and she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

  Chapter 7

  That's how the next few days went. Dez managed to perform miracles that made his mind spin, and he brought home a new bitch every night to fuck. He wondered if she noticed how his tastes were changing. He used to be into the debutantes, women with plenty of money and a style taken right out of some magazine. The past few nights it had been tattoos and piercings.

  The strangest thing was that she didn't even care. He couldn't resist them. The sun went down and he felt the pull. During the day, he could distract himself with work, but as soon as night fell, it became so achingly quiet. He needed to feel that contact, to know that he was real. Dez was amazing, but she was a damned ghost, always at the edge of his senses. Except the smell of her.

  She'd moved downstairs four days ago. Two days after that, the team had started working from the building. No women had been in his bed since. He might screw them on the counter, the shower, the couch, or the floor, but never in his bed. He didn't want to lose the smell of her that still clung to the sheets. Four days had gone by, and he hadn't washed them, terrified of losing the last trace of her in his place.

  She wouldn't touch him and he couldn't stop thinking about touching her. There was only one name for their completely dysfunctional relationship: flawed. He wouldn't trade it for anything, not even Silk.

  At nine, the developers started dragging their asses in. He didn't expect normal hours from them. Dez had been right, and the less he pushed, the more he got. They knew their jobs, and they knew how to make what he wanted. He needed to start hiring support staff, but he wanted to see a little more progress. Just a bit more assurance that he'd be able to make all the money back. As soon as they had a world that would support two players in it at the same time, he'd fill the roster and let the project go crazy.

  Of course, the first stop was always the coffee pot. No gamer worked well without too much of something, and for so many of them, it was caffeine. Chance grabbed a cup and headed to join them, wanting to know where things stood. It was Friday, and if possible, he wanted to start hiring bodies the next week. Just before he rounded the corner, he realized that Dez was the topic of conversation.

  "Swear to god, she's high," Gavin said.

  Flynn chuckled. "So? She's just a damned network admin. Not like it really matters. Any of us could manage the LAN now that it's been set up."

  Chance stepped into the room. "I take it that means you don't approve?" He wanted it clear that he'd heard.

  Mark filled his cup. "She's a complete fruit loop, man. Where'd you find her, McDonalds?"

  "Home Depot." He reached through the crowd of guys for the pot. "I also know a few things you don't."

  Flynn couldn't help himself. "Yeah? Like how she is in bed? You can't be that hard up, Chance."

  "Not fucking her."

  "I would," Gavin offered. "Bet she sucks a mean dick."

  Chance shook his head. "She doesn't. Haphephobia. Look it up, guys, then don't touch her." He looked at each man in the room. "I mean it. Don't shake her hand. Don't pat her shoulder. Don't touch her at all."

  "Pity case?" Mark asked. "Like meeting the minimums for disabled and women, all in one?"

  "Nope. When alpha goes live, she'll be the community manager." Across the break room eyes grew wide and mouths dropped open. None of them had expected that. Chance shrugged. "Won't be her first rodeo, either. I don't expect any of you to like her, but Dez is here to stay. Get used to it."

  "He's fucking her," Mark said as if he'd figured out the secret of the universe.

  "He's not." Dez stood in the doorway, glaring around the room. Like it had for the past week, a sucker hung at the corner of her mouth. "Chance, we got a problem. Server two is running hot."

  He nodded, moving past her to the door, but paused just on the other side. "Gonna share?"

  Her mouth curled, the look somewhere between feral and amused. "Will trade for coffee."

  "Deal."

  He turned the cup in his hand, handle toward her. Dez flicked her eyes to it, then pulled the stick from her lips and held it out. Chance snatched it in his mouth and lifted an eyebrow. With a slight duck of her head, she took the handle, lifting enough to assure him that she had the weight of the cup. When he turned back for a replacement, the three guys were watching with unveiled interest.

  Mark was grinning. "I don't believe you," he said.

  "Not fucking her," Chance assured him. "In case you missed it, I didn't even touch her."

  "Server two," Dez said again. "I think the power supply is fucked, but without a back-up, I can't pull it offline."

  He groaned and set the pot back on the burner one more time. "No way to hold off a week?"

  Dez took a sip and let her eyes move to the men on the other side of the room. "Any ideas, boys? Since I'm just a damned network admin, and any of you could handle this shit."

  "Hey. When was your last dose?"

  She blinked and looked up at him. "Like six hours ago."

  "Nice. Guess I won't bitch about you being a bitch, then. How are we gonna fix it, genius?"

  A laugh huffed from her lips and she shook her head. "It's a server, not a god. We're going to cannibalize two of the workstations and lose twenty minutes of productivity. I want you to grab a case."

  "Swap drives?"

  "Yeah. The desktop can't handle the load for too long, but should last long enough for me to swap out the power supply."

  "You," Chance told her, making sure the guys could hear, "are absolutely amazing. You sleep?"

  "Just woke up." She lifted the cup. "Now stop hitting on everything that moves and grab a case."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Together they stole two of the unused desktops, both aware that the developers were all watching closely. They didn't have to say a word. She'd already explained what she needed, and he understood. Heading downstairs, the steel door at the top gave them the first layer of privacy. Another at the bottom, locked tightly, was the last. As that door slipped closed behind them, he had to know.

  "You trying to quit?"

  Dez dropped the case on an empty section of counter. "I dunno." She looked back at him. "I just finally feel like people aren't always about to grab me, you know? Like maybe it's ok to try not being high for a bit."

  "This mean you'll get drunk with me?"

  A smile teased her lips, but she shrugged it away. "Dunno. That might get ugly."

  "Yeah. I was thinking about maybe staying in tonight. I mean, at home."

  "Trying to quit?" She pulled out the hard drive, her hands busy at work.

  Chance leaned across the counter for the cables. "I dunno. I just don't always feel like I'm slipping away when I have someone to talk to, you know?"

  She set the drive on the Formica and took a deep breath. "Can I have my sucker back?"

  "I think it's mine, now. You might have to take
it."

  She turned and grabbed the end, slipping it free before he expected it. He leaned after the tiny bit of candy, then paused, realizing just how close they were. Dez's lips were parted and her chest was rising a little too quickly.

  "I'm sorry," he breathed. "You caught me off guard."

  "Chance?" Her voice was timid, not filled with disdain like he expected.

  "Yeah, kid?"

  "Don't move, ok?"

  "Promise." His chest was just inches from hers, his face hovering so damn close.

  Dez slowly lifted her hand until her palm rested on his chest, the fabric of his shirt wrinkled between them. He could feel her pulse, or maybe that was his own. The corner of her mouth quirked back in surprise, then she looked at him again. "You're warm."

  "People usually are."

  She nodded, accepting that. "I should get the server going."

  "You have beautiful eyes." He felt like that was the dumbest thing he'd ever said, but standing this close, it was just the truth. "I like them best when they're clear, but they're always beautiful."

  "I look like a boy."

  He couldn't help it, he laughed, bouncing her hand on his chest. "No, Dez, you don't. You don't look like Barbie, either, but I'd never mistake you for a man. How about pot? We'll sit out in the grass, get high, and watch the stars?"

  Cautiously, slowly, she slid her hand against his pectoral, stepping away. "You got pot?"

  "I can get it. We'll giggle, you'll fucking eat something, and then we'll sleep until morning, but we both gotta try not to give in to our addictions for the rest of the day."

  She shook her head. "And just how often do you grab a lunchtime quickie?"

  He tilted his head slightly. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

  Dez thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."

  "It's called jacking off, kid. I live over the shop. Just take a few extra minutes in the bathroom and it's almost as good of a high as your damned Vicodin."

  She pulled out the chewed sucker stick and pitched it in the trash can, but her eyes were bright and playful. "I am never shaking your hand."

  "I wash!"

  She was grinning, but still managing to get the server repaired, her hands on the move. "Can't believe I slept in your bed!"

  "You should do that again. I like it when it smells like you."

  That stopped her. Dez paused before her hands returned to fastening the server drive into the new case. "I can do that."

  Chase clenched his fist and tapped his pinky against the counter. "Kid, I'm gonna go back upstairs, ok?"

  She looked up, shoving her fingers through her short dark hair. "What did I do this time?"

  He stepped back and took a deep breath. "I should just probably stand a little farther back. Like a room over." When her face only grew more confused, he looked away. "So I don't try to do something stupid, like touch you."

  "Yeah." She turned back to the case. "And thanks for sticking up for me."

  "Always. Still wanna do the thing tonight?"

  "Sure. I'll be up in a second."

  He pulled open the door and left, forcing himself not to look back. There was something so damned real about her that it cut right through him. Those rare moments like this, when she didn't try to hide her feelings, made him want to pull her close and protect her from the big bad world that scared her. In his daydreams she always melted into him, pressing her lean body close, clinging to him like a raft at sea. Unfortunately, he always woke up to realize that she was doing just fine on her own.

  "Tim!" he called, seeing the exact person he'd needed.

  "Yeah, boss?"

  Chance jogged across the warehouse, gesturing for the guy to come to the side. Tim peeled himself from his chair and followed, his face curious. When they were out of earshot, Chance leaned back against the wall.

  "I need a favor."

  "What's up?" Tim's face was wary.

  "Any way you can get a dime bag by the end of the day?"

  The man's eyes widened for a split second before he schooled his features. "Dunno what you're talking about."

  Chance sighed. "I've never drug tested a dev. Won't start now. I'm asking if you can hook me up."

  "Seriously, you smoke?"

  "Among other things. Does that mean yes?"Chance reached for his wallet. "I'd rather it stays under the radar, but I'm not looking for promises of secrecy or anything."

  "Yeah, I can help ya out. I'll need a long lunch."

  "No problem. Just remember, my name is tied to the company. Deviant Games takes a hit, we all lose money."

  Tim took the folded bills and shoved them in his pocket. "Nah, I gotcha. I also wanted to talk to you about character creation. We going super simple, or you want to put the time into a few sliders?"

  "The more unique, the better," Chance told him. "We're hitting the MMO market, not FPSes, even though it's a crossover."

  "Yeah, um, cuz that might cause some lag. You know, when the server tries to render each character."

  "Leave the LOD models simple. Get Flynn to add a slider into the options?"

  Tim nodded. "Can do, boss. I'll bring a few concepts for Monday?"

  "Sounds good. I think we're going to have a roundtable, make sure we're all on the same page." Chance patted his shoulder. "Thanks again."

  He was just walking away when Braden threw up his hands, a string of expletives falling from his mouth. "Server's slow!"

  "Dez is replacing a power supply," Chance said.

  "Bitch needs to warn us."

  "Try it again," Chance said, his patience wearing thin.

  Braden clicked, looking smug, then his expression changed. "Oh. Went through. Who was fucking with my code?"

  "I was," Chance told him. "What's the problem?"

  The basement door clanged. Braden glanced over but had already committed himself to the rant. "No way. This isn't your code, Chance, no offense. Someone altered the algorithms that calculate bullet drop in FPS. It's completely out of range for any modern shooter on the market."

  From the back of the room, Dez spoke up. "That's because Silk isn't a modern shooter, you noob."

  "Shut up, new girl. The boys are talking games."

  Chance lifted his hands and backed away. "All yours, Dez."

  Like a demon on a mission, the tiny slip of a girl stormed toward the front of the room. She slapped the white board with her open palm, her other hand snagging a pen. "Pay real close attention, boys. Silk is a cross-genre game." She sketched out a stick figure with a gun, then walked halfway across the room to make another. Beside it, she drew a box, then grabbed a different colored pen. "In shooters, the difficulty is measured by time to kill. Positioning and tactical awareness give you the advantage. Operator muscle control makes the skill. In skill-based MMOs, none of that exists."

  She drew an arcing line from the guy by the box over the head of the other, then a straight arrow from the lone man back. It was very obvious that she was showing the skill variance in types of play. Then she quickly sketched a wall between them with a tiny window in it, proving the biggest problem with bullet drop as the curved line bisected well above the gap.

  "Not rocket science," one of the guys mumbled.

  She pointed at him. "So you're not complete idiots. Good to know. The problem that none of you highly-paid developers seem to be able to grasp is that you have both types of play in Silk. Why the fuck would I play infantry if I can get in a highly armored mech suit and hit tab to lock on? My shots are more accurate, my defense is higher, and the required skill level is lower. It's overpowered."

  "But mechs and vehicles don't fit everywhere." That was Tim.

  Dez tilted her head, acknowledging that. "So, the box is the contested item. This guy is playing defense. That one is playing offense. Vehicles can't go everywhere, right? So, guy by the box? Yep, he's got standard bullet drop, lowered armor, and a higher skill curve." She walked back to the first guy. "Someone tell me why this dumb-ass isn't sitting in
a mech suit or hanging out in a plane?" A heavy silence filled the room, and she glared at each of them. "So after he filled the box room full of rockets, explosives, and area of effect spells, who is standing against him?"

  "Fuck," the object designer, Jeff, breathed. "I can't believe we missed that. The solution is less bullet drop?"

  "And varied quest objectives. Make some vehicular – spread those out between mechs, wheeled, and air. Another group should be infantry only. A third group should be puzzle based, or population based. This goes for PvE and PvP objectives. Remember, kill stealing kills games."

  "Where the fuck did you come from?" Jeff begged, thoroughly impressed.

  Dez smiled. "Home Depot." Tossing the pens back onto the metal lip beneath the whiteboard, she headed back to her desk.

  "Can she do that?" Braden asked. "Can she just override your designs?"

  Chance looked around the room, making sure he had all of their attention. "Yes. If we want Silk to succeed, we're all going to listen to exactly what she says. Am I clear?"

  "Why?" Braden demanded.

  Chance looked across the room, wondering how exactly he was going to spin this to keep her safe. From the look on her face, Dez hadn't thought that far. She was pissed and getting more so with each dismissive comment she heard.

  "Because I designed the concept!" she snapped. "The only person in the entire industry with the balls to listen to me is going to make a fortune, and Chance is willing to take that risk. I was the first person to promote Silk, and I'll be damned if the game of my dreams crashes and burns before it even gets off the ground because some fucking developer is worried about modern shooter dynamics in an MMO."

  "Fuck," Gavin muttered, looking at Chance. "Destiny Pierce? She fucking fell off the radar."

  "The same Destiny Pierce that designed voxels for that Sony game?" Mark asked.

  Chance's head snapped up. "What?"

  "Yeah. My college roommate worked on that. Said they couldn't..." He paused, then looked to the back of the room.

  Dez crossed her arms over her chest. "They couldn't figure out how to make them both additive and subtractive. Either the world was destructible or buildable, but without convincing the system to shift in the middle, they couldn't make it do both."