Abella Sterling (Female P.O.V)

October 10, 2074 

An intolerable pounding yanked me from my peaceful slumber. My eyes flew open, but the early morning rays of the sun streaming through the holes in my blinds made them quickly reclose.

Burying my head underneath my pillow, I started to drift back to sleep, only for another short burst of banging to commence. It took my sluggish brain a solid minute to process the noise of someone knocking at my front door.

"They better be dying. If not, I swear I'm going to kill 'em." I grumbled, shoving aside my pillow and blankets before reluctantly leaving the warmth of my bed.

After padding from my room, I went to my front door. While standing in my entryway, my eyes sought out the mirror on the left wall. A quick check of my reflection revealed my smooth brown skin was blemish free. Well, almost. Marring my right cheek were a few creases left behind by my pillow.

I started to rub them away, only to catch sight of the wayward strands poking from my ponytail. After tucking them behind my ears and briefly massaging my cheek, I pulled open the door.

A woman with copper red-dyed locks that couldn't have been over the age of thirty stood in my doorway. My breath caught in my throat when I spotted the gold badge attached to the waistband of her jeans. The numbers engraved in the metal made my palms grow slick.

She was a cop.

Oh, that's just great. Of course, my luck would land me in this situation.

Taking a deep calming breath, I dragged my gaze away from the shiny piece of metal to meet the lady's eyes. But a pair of dark shades kept them concealed from view. In the frames, my reflection showed with an awkward smile.

She removed the glasses, tucked them into the pocket of her navy blazer, and said, "Good morning Ms. Sterling. I am Detective Adler."

I nodded and flashed a polite smile in greeting.

"Can my partner and I come inside and have a word with you?" She continued.

"Your partner?" I peeked around the door frame looking for the other person.

She sharply cut her sapphire blue eyes to the right at a guy leaning against the wall. A pair of jeans and a white t-shirt covered his tall, muscular frame. His position only allowed a glimpse of his impressive side profile, but it was enough to pique my interest. Dark stubble covered his chiseled jawline and surrounded his bow-shaped red lips. I dragged my eyes upward over the strong bridge of his nose until they met familiar amber irises. Heat spread across my cheeks upon recognition of my dear friend.

Even though he was handsome, that was no way to think of a friend.

My momentary lapse in judgment was the result of my prolonged singlehood.

Eight months.

Eight long torturous months, I might add.

That's how much time has passed since breaking off my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, Mathew.

And regrettably even longer since I last had sex.

Towards the end of our amicable split, the sex had grown staler and duller than week-old toast. But to be fair, it wasn't newsworthy during the beginning or middle. It was lackluster at best. For the entire three minutes, he insisted on missionary and foreplay...

I scoffed.

Forget about it because it was nonexistent.

I failed to remember the precise moment I started, hiding my disappointment while he lay there maddeningly grinning as if he had just rocked my world. While unbeknownst to him, he hadn't even caused a tremor.

His being the cousin of the friend that introduced us was the only reason the relationship had lasted so long. I hadn't wanted to cause any friction between us. Therefore, I stuck it out until the end.

Soon, I would need to resurrect my love life to cure my brief insanity.

Lightly shaking my head, I dispelled my thoughts and forced a smile. "Quinton!"

"Hey, Bell!" He cheerily greeted me, pushing off the wall and pulling me in for a quick hug. "How ar-"

A throat loudly clearing interrupted him. Quinton and I turned to look at the woman.

"I'm sorry, Detective..." I trailed off, struggling to recall her name.

"Adler." She supplied, clasping her hands together.

"Right." I nodded, committing the name to memory. "What did you say you need to speak with me about?"

"Can we talk inside?" She asked with a tight-lipped smile while gesturing to my apartment.

"Sure, sure." I pushed the door, widening it and enabling them to pass before leading them into my living room. The pair settled on my plush leather couch while I sat in the matching armchair.

"Ms. Sterling..." Quinton paused, noticing my eyebrows shot up at his cold, formal tone. However, I refrained from commenting, knowing he was trying to establish a professional boundary. "Detective Adler is from the NYPD, and we are working together on a case. We need to ask you some questions."

I scooted to the edge of my seat while unconsciously wringing my hands. "Okay, what are they?"

"Do you play the game Underground Legends?"

I stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the question because he already knew the answer. Outside of my family, he was a part of the rare few that knew my profession.

"Yes, I do," I replied, figuring he was confirming it for Detective Adler. Instead of stopping there, my mouth seemed to develop a mind of its own. "I managed to make it into the next round of The Hunt an-"

When I noticed both staring at me with polite smiles, I stopped. They weren't interested in that. It was a simple question that required a simple answer. But their presence made me nervous. And when I got that way, I tended to ramble.

I muttered a quick apology before Quinton continued, "Are you currently, or have you ever been in contact with any other players?"

"No. It's anonymous. That's one of the things that made me feel better about pursuing a career in gaming."

That anonymity helped me go about my daily life without fear of being recognized and hounded regularly. Professional gamers weren't as famous as movie stars or singers, but we still received our fair share of adoration and hatred.

Less than ten people knew about my job, all family and friends. And I treasured that aspect because not many were as fortunate.

At my response, Quinton and Detective Adler exchanged a look that I couldn't quite decipher.

Before I could ask, Quinton pulled a small notepad from his back pocket and flipped through the pages.

"Do you know Drake Newman or Ellen and Jimmy Barlowe?" He inquired, reading the names off, a page riddled with scribbles.

I briefly pondered the names before shaking my head. "No. Who are they?"

He held up one finger, signaling me to wait as his eyes traveled further down the page.

"How about PANDORA99267, THE_LEGEND77, and JIMBO?"

The familiarity of one of the names made me freeze. But the cogs in my brain turned a mile a minute to recall from where yet to no avail.

"PANDORA99267 sounds familiar." I finally answered, momentarily giving up on remembering. "But why do you ask?"

I braced myself for what he was about to say, expecting the worst because cops weren't known for delivering good news.

"They are the gaming identities of the people I previously named. They were contestants in the competition, and..." He deeply exhaled before continuing, "All of them were unfortunate enough to die the same way they did in the game."

Even though I prepared myself, the news still managed to suck the air from my lungs. A memory of the game suddenly sprang forth in my mind. Quinton's words seemed to be the key that unlocked my forgotten memories.

The image was fleeting but vivid enough to make my blood run cold. It was of PANDORA99267. The pink-haired girl was running away when another player unloaded a heap of bullets into her back.

If that had been her fate, I knew the other two were just as if not more horrific.

"Oh my god." I breathed out, clutching my clammy palm to my mouth. "W-w-why would s-someone do that?"

"We're still trying to figure that out."

I started to nod but stopped midway as the players' real names circulated throughout my head. I couldn't forget them. It was like they brandished themselves in my mind.

"Is it a coincidence that two players have the same last name?"

"No, it's not." Quinton slipped his notebook back into his pocket. "They are siblings. And Ellen's time of death predates Jimmy's."

Damn.

I fell back against the seat and rubbed my throbbing temples. All of this was too much, and I struggled to comprehend it. Let alone believe it. One thought kept circling in my mind on a never-ending cycle. Some psycho was out there killing players for some unknown reason.

I am a player.

The realization made me shoot up straight in my chair. "How did the killer even know where they live?" I slowly enunciated each word as my eyes shifted between the pair.

Quinton ran his hand over the deep-set waves in his low-cut hair. "When we visited Mr. Cromwell, the game creator, he told us that someone recently hacked the servers containing the player's information, so any of you could be in danger."

My eyes bulged. "What?!"

Now I know the reason for their previous exchange. But a small part wished I didn't. That anonymity I thought I had to avoid crazed fans was gone instantly.

"Why didn't he tell us?"

"That's a question only he can answer."

"That bastard probably just wanted us to keep playing." I darkly muttered, going to my desk and searching for my car keys.

I was still in my pajamas, but I didn't care. I was hellbent on driving to Cromwell's office and giving him a piece of my mind.

"But if you're here, you must have a plan to protect us, right?" I asked, sifting through the contents of my drawer.

"We're contacting the police departments in every player's state and getting officers to monitor their houses." Detective Adler spoke up for the first time since coming inside.

I stopped my frantic searching and looked over at her. When she didn't say anything more, I asked, "Is that it? What about shutting down the game?"

"We're trying b..."

"Trying?!" I snapped, and the woman recoiled backward at my sharp tone. "Three people lost their lives. That should be more than enough."

"Come, Abella. You know it's not that simple." Quinton said. "The revenue Cromwell will make in streams alone is insane. You or I will never see that much in three lifetimes. He won't shut the game down and risk losing it."

"Of course." I moved away from my desk and slowly settled back into my seat. "It's always about money."

I could understand that better than anyone. My entire livelihood depended on the money I earned from playing Underground Legends. If I didn't make any, I would have to devote my time elsewhere.

"Plus, he also has a lot of rich and influential people in his corner, and they are doing everything within their power to stop us." Detective Adler said.

Softly sighing, my fingers tapped on the chair armrest while I tried to devise a solution.

There just had to be a way.

Cromwell shouldn't be able to continue profit while three people were dead.

Their lives meant more than whatever he was getting.

My fingers stopped mid-tap, hanging suspended in the air when an idea suddenly popped into my head.

Quinton shot me a questioning glance when a smile slowly broke out across my face.

"What if all the players refused to play? Then Cromwell won't have a choice but to shut it down." I posed.

"That's a good idea." Quinton nodded approvingly, but his following words crushed my hope flatter than roadkill. "But we don't know how the killers will react. So the only option is to see it through to the end."

I sighed again before one word registered more than the others. "Killers? What do you mean killers? How many are there exactly?!"

"We don't know the exact amount yet." Detective Adler softly confessed. "But it seems there are at least two. The two siblings, Ellen and Jimmy Barlowe, died here in Miami, while Drake Newman's death was in Brooklyn. An-"

She suddenly clamped her mouth shut. The death glare Quintion aimed her way alluded to the fact she let pertinent information slip that she wasn't supposed to.

"At least two ki..." My voice slowly faded out toward the end. Being able to vanish that effortlessly would solve my problem. At least then, I would be safe. The cops monitoring our homes weren't enough protection against an unknown number of assailants.

Anytime, anywhere I was vulnerable. I couldn't just stay locked inside my apartment.

"S-s-so, is there anything else I could do to protect myself?" I questioned.

Quinton's brow pinched, forming deep creases in his otherwise flawless toffee-colored complexion. "You can hire a bodyguard. And I can even recommend someone if you want."

"Umm...okay."

The idea didn't exactly instill me with joy, but if they could keep me alive, I would try.

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Thank you for reading!❤

7-1-22