Miles

Miles plastered on a grin as the cameras flashed before him. As he pulled away from the pose, his fan squealed and asked him for a hug.

"Your games got me through a really tough time," she gushed as she smashed her entire body against him.

Still holding the girl's fur-cased phone, Liam shook his head at the scene before being accosted himself for autographs.

"GAMERSUNITE! REMEMBER YOUR MISSION!" A voice boomed over the PA system. "The first fan to collect the autographs of all 300 creators at the show will receive an exclusive GamersUnite perk pass! Now go meet your heroes!"

"So much for not pulling any celebrity stunts," Liam grunted as they pulled away from the fans and headed to the VIP room.

It's not that they didn't take the boss seriously. They weren't going to pull any celebrity stunts. The stunts just ambushed them.

They were hardly halfway through the show and Miles was already exhausted. He loved his fans, but the pressure was mounting and GamersUnite was his biggest bet at finding a worthy writer.

Even Liam was being less of a jackass. He was getting worried.

Five interviews and conferences later, the pair decided to brave the hordes of fans in hopes of unearthing some talent in the mud. They arrived at the massive hall of indie games. If there were any independent industry gems, they would be found here.

"Alright." Miles muttered. "Let's get to work."

╳◯

"I liked the dude who wrote that medieval game. He was... Tolerable," Liam remarked as he consulted the list he had scribbled.

"I'm not sure," Miles replied, his eyes scanning the hall. "We need a different voice."

"Yeah but remember, he has to get along with us. Not too demanding, but not too passive. He'll be writing out your vision, and I'll be bringing his story to life. We need the wheel nice and greasy."

"Who said it has to be a he?" As he spoke, Miles' eyes landed on a girl in the next aisle. Her back was facing him and he could see her brown hair tied up in two buns. She stood inside a booth, speaking passionately and laughing with a group of visitors.

Feeling his heart launch into hyperspeed, Miles marched towards the stand, his eyes trained on his target.

It was her.

Rounding the corner, he hardly had time to think of what to say when he suddenly locked eyes with the girl.

It wasn't her.

"Hey there, can I help you?" The girl chirped, flashing him a bright smile. Two dimples punctuated her grin.

"Oh, hi," he stammered, caught off guard by the rude awakening. He steadied his thoughts. "Tell me about your work."

"Oh, Thunderlane isn't my work," she replied, disappointment flashing in her eyes. "I mean, I wrote it, but it's not an actual piece of work yet."

Liam ran up beside Miles, out of breath. "What the hell, Usain Bolt?" His eyes snapped to the cute girl in the booth, and he quickly composed himself. "Oh. Hi there."

"Is it the funding?" Miles continued unfazed, picking a brochure from the counter. It was a simple black and white printout of an old village.

"Well, and I don't exactly have a team," the girl said. "It's just me writing the story and the concept, but I'm looking for people to join me."

Miles flipped the brochure in his hand, studying the concept art. "Tell me what you have."

The girl pulled out a board littered with pictures, propping it up on the counter. "You play as a woman who has lost her child in the woods near her backyard. Halfway through searching, a thunderstorm hits and you stumble upon an abandoned village. Frightened but determined, you enter the village, convinced that your child has taken shelter there. But the storm brings more dangers than lightning and thunder, and you have to navigate the perils and mysteries of this ghost town, guided by the cries of your lost child – or is it?"

The girl looked up from her board. The piercing eyes of Miles and Liam shot back at her.

"I mean – that's what I have so far –  it's still a work in progress –"

"It's chilling," Liam murmured.

"Strong concept." Miles nodded.

"I'm sorry, I never got your names," the girl said, craning her neck to read their lanyards. "I'm Paige Clarke."

"Miles Mason and Liam Parsons. Mad Labs." Miles reached out to shake Paige's hand, and her eyes grew wide in shock.

"Mad Labs? Oh my god," she whispered. "Did I just pitch my midnight ramblings to Miles Mason?"

"And Liam Parsons," Liam interjected.

"Yes. Of course. Wow. What an honour," Paige breathed.

"Join us," Miles stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"I – what?"

"You heard me." He placed the brochure back on the counter and glanced through Paige's messy storyboard. "You're doing good work, and we need a writer. We already have a concept in mind, but you'll take charge of how the story bends."

"And there's more than one way it can bend," Liam added, winking.

Miles stood back, placing his hands into his pockets. "So what will it be, Paige?" 

"Yes! Oh my god, it would be an honour to work for you." Paige beamed, then cast her eyes back to her work. "Just... throwing this out there, is there any chance my game can be developed, like, ever?"

Miles shrugged and handed her his business card. "I don't see why not. Come to our office when this show is over. We'll talk details."

Leaving an excited Paige, Miles and Liam strode through the hall, pleased with their discovery. Only the second day and they had already found what they came for. Miles could see the worry lift from Liam's face, and a smile tugged on his own lips.

Liam decided to check out more game releases, and Miles was about to exit the hall when a shout came from the aisle.

"Take your hands off me, you creep!"

He whirled around to the source of the commotion. Two boorish men, dressed as barbarians, were sandwiching a girl in a black leather costume. She was swatting their hands away and trying to break free, but the men were holding her shoulders in a vice grip.

Disgusted, Miles stalked towards the group, his voice booming. "Hey. Let her go."

"Relax, man, we're just getting a couple of photos," one of the barbarians barked, tightening his hold on the girl.

"Stop or I'll call security," Miles threatened.

"Stop white-knighting, you simp," the other barbarian growled, before realising who they were dealing with. "M-Mason... It's Miles Mason."

"Fuck." The men dropped their arms, stammering at him. "M-Mr Mason, we don't want any trouble. We're huge fans."

"Touch another actor and I'll get you banned from the show." He glowered. "And all other shows."

The men cowered and ran away, their barbarian shields clanging behind them. Miles turned to the cosplayer, checking if she was fine.

"Oh great. It's you."

His heart stopped. It was her.