Jocking Jameson (Face-Off Legacy/Campus Kings 4)

Shannon was right under my nose all along, and I overlooked her because I was still in love with Cece. And now, I’m making room in my heart and my life for Shannon.

I slide off the mattress, careful not to wake her. It’s five o’clock in the morning, the entire house is sleeping off their hangovers. Preston and Bex went at it for most of the night. At one point, I started to wonder if we were in a competition for who could wake the house first. Drake wasn’t as lucky. No matter how much chasing after Taylor he did, I doubt he even got a kiss.

Sinking into the chair in front of my computer desk, I tap the mouse to wake the four monitors in front of me. I quickly dim the screens and turn them away from my bed. Shannon knows about The Queen. We’ve talked a little bit about her harassment of my teammates. But I don’t want her to know how obsessed I am with this girl.

She’s a true hacker, a skilled coder who has my full attention. Every chance I get, I attempt to narrow down her location. Any time I get too close, The Queen finds some way to block me. I love the hunt, and I wonder if she knows it. Because it seems too convenient that she always lets me go so far.

I log in to my server and flip through a few tabs until I find the correct browser. Technically, what I’ve been doing to find The Queen breaks a few laws, but I’m good at covering my tracks. My fingers glide across the keyboard, and as I go through the motions, I finally hit a dead end. Another firewall prevents me from passing through—or is it something else?

The green text on the black screen disappears, and as it does, anxiety creeps into my chest. I enter a few recovery codes, doing everything I can think of to make it stop. And then the green cursor blinks in the middle of the screen. I stare at it and then attempt to type. None of the keys work. The commands I enter don’t appear on the screen.

What the fuck is going on? I have no way of controlling my own system, and now I know I have gone too far. Maybe Preston was right. Should I ask my dad for help? He’d never have allowed someone to attack his server. Thankfully, mine isn’t connected to his in any way.

After a few more seconds, the cursor stops flashing. What appears to be an ancient video game appears. It reminds me of Doom, one of the most iconic first-person shooter video games from the nineties. Except this is a custom design, a lookalike of the original with several modifications. Whoever is orchestrating this attack wants me to play. So I do.

I fight droves of demons as I make my way through the first level. Blood splatters with each demon I kill, satanic imagery present throughout the fictional world. There are elements in this game that remind me of The Fallen Universe my father created. My dad was inspired by the classics. Doom and Diablo are two of the games he’s publicly mentioned over the years.

Whoever coded this game must know that because I see so much of those games infused with parts of The Fallen worlds. I enter a dungeon, one that reminds me of those I’ve seen in Diablo. The more I play, the more I see how much Mage Wars is like both of these games.

Does this person want me to know something? Was my dad more than inspired by these games? He would never. I know deep down in my soul that his worlds are his and his alone. Yes, there are similarities. The same can be said of any creative product on the market. Even the most popular books have others like them.

I’m about to fight the last battle when demons ambush me. Hitting the buttons as fast as I can, I do my best to shoot and dodge, but my efforts are worthless. Because the owner of this game never planned to let me pass. That would mean granting me access when all they have done is keep me from the truth.

This is The Queen’s doing. I must have gotten closer to her this time. Grunting and yelling at the screen, my fingers move faster. I work even harder to reach the next level, and then I’m hit, one after the other until my character is dead. The game slowly fades until the screen turns black. Deep red blood runs from the top of the screen dripping down the center where it begins to form words.

It spells out, You Lose, Jamer.

Fucking bitch. How is The Queen this good? And how does she know my screen name? Only gamers and hackers from my inner circles know who I am.