Click, click, click…
Chloe Quinn's heels rang out in the quiet Tech Tower corridor.
She kept her steps measured, not daring to speed up or stop.
Over a dozen pairs of eyes followed her in silence.
Her knees felt weak.
Almost there…
Zoey Parker's office loomed ahead. Chloe held onto that thought.
But then—
"Chloe, rushing off?"
Gus Harper's voice broke the stillness, calm but sharp.
To Chloe, it felt like a cold gust, raising goosebumps.
She turned, meeting the team's silent gazes, then Gus, who approached slowly.
Forcing a smile, she said, "Well, Gus, didn't expect to see you here…"
Gus gave a slight nod, gesturing to the group. "We're—"
"Team building, right?" Chloe interrupted. "Don't worry, I won't spill to Zoey about her missing the invite."
Her smile aimed for sincerity.
Quick thinking, Gus mused. Chloe's sharp instincts showed why Parker Capital sent her to watch over Zoey. She was a pro at handling tight spots.
Gus, reading the room, didn't push. He nodded, holding up his phone. "Care to join us for a quick bite?"
"No thanks," Chloe replied, raising her phone as a faint chime sounded. "Just grabbing Zoey's USB. Gotta run."
"Safe trip, then," Gus said, pocketing his phone with a satisfied look.
"No escort needed," Chloe chuckled, nodding. "Zoey and I are headed to my mom's for dinner."
She slipped into the elevator, vanishing like she'd never been there.
In the Tech Tower garage, Chloe slid into the car and handed Zoey the USB. "Here, don't lose it."
"Thanks," Zoey said, tucking it into her bag. "What took so long?"
Chloe hid a flinch, keeping her expression steady. "It wasn't in your computer. Found it in a drawer. You forgot, didn't you?"
"Oh, right," Zoey said, tapping her head. "Makes sense."
She fired up the car, heading for the garage exit.
As they left Tech Tower, Chloe quietly sent a Slack message: "Clear of the hot zone. Op proceeds. Over."
…
Late autumn arrived in Seattle.
At Cedar Heights Apartments, 21st floor, a door clicked open.
"I'm back," Jonah York called, slipping off his shoes.
His wife, cleaning the kitchen, stepped out. "Home early? What's up—"
She froze, spotting Jonah with a bouquet of roses and a sea-blue gift box.
"Surprise!" Jonah grinned, handing her the flowers. "Happy anniversary."
His wife's eyes glistened.
Jonah hadn't done this in years. Since joining WindyPeak Games, he'd come alive—chatting eagerly about PUBG's challenges, fixes, and visuals at dinner. She didn't always get it, but the passionate man she'd married was back.
"These flowers aren't cheap," she teased, cheeks flushing despite her playful tone.
"And this," Jonah said, placing the gift box down. "High-end cosmetics—Hot Girl, I think. The team helped pick it. Even Chloe swore by the brand."
His wife's happiness overflowed. The gifts were nice, but Jonah's renewed drive meant more.
"The project's wrapped," Jonah said, arms open. "It's a knockout, and the trailer drops tonight. Double win—hug?"
She leapt into his arms with a laugh. "I knew you'd nail it!"
Jonah chuckled, spinning her in the living room before they sank onto the couch.
Catching her gaze, he whispered something close.
"Oh!" Her blush deepened, outshining the roses. "It's only 5:30, and we haven't eaten…"
Jonah grinned. "Kid's at grandma's. We'll hit a restaurant later, make a night of it. But first…"
With a sly look, he scooped her up, her soft gasp echoing as he carried her off. "…you're my appetizer."
…
"Dinner's done."
Eggplant set down his chopsticks, swiped his mouth with the curtain, and glanced at his watch. "All Asian Games titles wrap today. My timing's spot-on, right? Take notes!"
His stream chat lit up:
"Curtain wipe's a must-see daily."
"Curtain: I'm in the wrong line of work."
"Yaya's copying the curtain move now."
"Five months for this PUBG trailer—I'm climbing the walls!"
"Gus strung us along with concept art and tech talk. Master of suspense."
"Another week for the game? I'm gonna lose it."
Today was the deadline for all Asian Games titles, with 25 promo videos launching at 8 PM. In a week, the games would drop, competing for a SkyDome Arena esports slot.
PUBG stole the spotlight, its "Battle Royale" pitch by Gus Harper at the Tokyo conference fueling massive anticipation.
As Eggplant's chat buzzed, 8 PM struck.
Click.
He refreshed the Asian Games site. The "Stay tuned" banner vanished, replaced by a colorful array of promo videos.
PUBG sat at the top, a perk of its Most Anticipated Game Award.
"Here it comes…" Eggplant muttered, clicking the video as his chat roared.
Boom, boom!
A heavy drumbeat hit.
WindyPeak Games Production
Boom, boom!
An engine growled.
Director: Gus Harper
Boom, boom!
PLAYERUNKNOWN'S BATTLEGROUNDS
A final drumbeat gave way to rushing air and a rough shout: "Jump! Jump! Jump! Move it!"
The first-person view opened. The protagonist sat in a transport plane, surrounded by men and women in vests and shorts, parachutes strapped on.
Handcuffs glinted on his wrists.
Huff, huff…
His breathing raced.
Click.
A gruff warden unlocked the cuffs. Glancing at the 10,000-meter drop and the warden's glare, the protagonist shook his head, ready to beg.
Thud!
A boot to the gut sent him flying.
Whoosh!
The world spun. Prisoners tumbled through clouds, an island sprawling below.
Pop!
The parachute snapped open, and Eggplant yelped, "Holy crap!"
Skydiving? In a game?
His chat erupted:
"Skydiving?! No way!"
"Is this trailer hype or real gameplay?"
"WindyPeak could make skydiving work."
"I'm begging for skydiving in the game!"
"Sign me up!"
Thud.
The protagonist landed hard, knees buckling. No time to recover—a man nearby rose, hesitated, then charged with a fist.
The protagonist dodged, landing a brutal punch to the man's face.
Crack!
Blood sprayed, morphing into a bullet piercing a woman's head in a building. Blood splattered the wall, shifting into a grenade that exploded at a man's feet, spraying crimson mist.
The mist swept over a chaotic city—gunfire thundered, bodies fell from high-rises, smoke bombs rolled, flames surged. A brutal symphony of blood and bullets played out.
Silence fell.
The protagonist, bloodied and scarred, stood armed: white shirt, jeans, bulletproof vest, camouflage helmet, rifles slung, pistol holstered.
Pop, fizz.
He cracked an energy drink, downing it.
Revving a motorcycle, he tore off as a bomber roared overhead, dropping bombs.
Rumble, rumble!
No longer panicked, he gunned the throttle, bursting through flames.
PLAYERUNKNOWN'S BATTLEGROUNDS
Eggplant's chat exploded:
Skydiving, combat, gunfire, blood, fire—a deadly game where only one of 100 survives. PUBG shattered FPS conventions, its trailer a game-changer for PacificTech's investment.
Like the bomber in the video, PUBG swept the global FPS market with relentless force.