Marcus had always believed that rock bottom was a myth, a dramatic flourish reserved for bad movies. Now, standing in a line that stretched around three city blocks at nine in the morning, unemployed and nursing a heartbreak that felt suspiciously like a physical wound, he realized rock bottom wasn't a myth. It had a basement, and he was currently standing in the utility closet.
The sheer, brutal irony of the situation was a bitter taste in his mouth. Just six months ago, he'd been the golden boy at Mellory Financial, the one everyone said would be the youngest partner in the firm's history. He'd had Snow, a woman whose presence alone could make a room full of men forget their own names. His future had been a gleaming, flawless diamond.
Today, his bank account was bleeding out, his apartment smelled permanently of burnt coffee and regret, and his sister, Amber, was calling him every hour on the hour to ensure he hadn't done anything "spectacularly idiotic." Amber, bless her heart, had always had a gift for understatement.
The worst part of it all was the inescapable truth: he'd engineered this collapse himself.
Not the firing, to be fair. That was pure, unadulterated spite from his boss, a bloated toad of a man whose wife had recently traded him in for a younger, more flexible yoga instructor. The toad, unable to process his own failure, had somehow decided Marcus was a suitable scapegoat. But Snow… that was entirely on him.
When you're twenty-four and utterly convinced of your own impending greatness, you make choices that seem coldly logical at the time. He'd chosen the pursuit of financial freedom over the woman he loved, operating under the arrogant assumption that there would always be time, later, to mend what he'd broken.
Later, he was learning, was a concept that rarely kept its appointments.
Marcus shifted his weight, the concrete sidewalk was already radiating a fierce heat despite the sun having only just cleared the downtown skyscrapers. The line hadn't budged in what felt like an eternity, but a strange, collective patience held the crowd. They were all here for the same reason: Dominion, the virtual reality game that promised to change everything. The game where digital currency wasn't just a score, but actual, spendable dollars in your real world bank account.
It sounded too good to be true, which meant it probably was. But when you're down on your luck and the job market treats your resume like radioactive waste, you start believing in long shots.
The woman directly in front of him was glued to her phone, murmuring about server load and beta key distribution. Behind him, two college-aged kids were locked in a fierce debate over optimal character builds, discussing virtual strategy with the gravity of generals planning a real world invasion. Everyone else had a meticulously crafted plan. They knew exactly how they were going to conquer this new digital battlefield.
Marcus, however, had no plan. He had only desperation, which he figured was either the absolute worst fuel for a new beginning, or, perhaps, the best one, depending on how you looked at it.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Amber: "Please tell me you're not doing anything stupid."
He almost let out a genuine laugh. If queuing for a video game headset at dawn qualified as stupid, then he was about to graduate with distinction from the University of Bad Decisions. But what was the alternative? Another soul-crushing interview where he'd have to invent a plausible reason for the sudden, gaping hole in his employment history? Another night staring at the ceiling, wondering where everything had gone wrong?
At least in a virtual world, you could wipe the slate clean. There, your past didn't follow you around like a hungry, judgmental ghost.
The line finally lurched forward, and Marcus felt a sudden, sharp spike of adrenaline. Maybe it was the cheap, burnt gas station coffee finally kicking in. Maybe it was the first, faint whisper of something that might, possibly, be hope.
Or maybe it was just the oppressive summer heat, making everyone irritable and restless.
His gaze shifted to a woman about twenty feet ahead. She had a truly remarkable figure, emphasized by a simple tank top and a short skirt that left little to the imagination. Her hips swayed with a deliberate, almost theatrical rhythm that made the men behind her momentarily forget the sweltering temperature. Even from this distance, he caught the faint, expensive scent of her perfume.
'Alright, look at that,' a familiar, old impulse stirred in his gut. 'She's definitely putting on a show. Could make this wait a lot more interesting.'
His mind, bored and craving a distraction, instantly began cycling through his old playbook. The classic "you look familiar" was always a weak opener. The "did you drop this" was just plain lame. Maybe something more direct? A simple, "Hey, I know this is random, but I had to come say hello..."
Watching her, Marcus started calculating his approach, timing his move for the next time the line stopped. She was clearly inviting an audience; maybe she was open to a conversation. He was dying of boredom anyway. If he didn't find a way to kill the next hour, he'd lose his mind before he ever reached the store entrance.
The hype was real. Dragonfly Corp was set to launch the public beta of Dominion in a week, and this line for the necessary VR headset was a testament to the frenzy. Stores had been selling them for three days straight, and the demand hadn't slackened. Marcus counted at least a hundred people ahead of him, and the line behind was just as long. And this was only one of over thirty retail locations in the city, all equally packed.
If he weren't trapped in this damn queue, he'd already be over there, leaning in, starting the flirty back-and-forth he knew so well.
"Hey, man, the line's back there!" A scrawny kid with a terrible dye-job tried to cut in front of him, momentarily blocking his view of the woman. Marcus didn't even have to think; the words were out before the thought registered.
The kid spun around, clearly ready for a confrontation, but the look on Marcus's face; a cold, steady glare honed by years of corporate ruthlessness, made him hesitate. A few grunts of support from the other people in line sealed the deal. The kid lost his nerve and slunk away. He'd probably pegged Marcus as an easy target, some quiet office type.
He couldn't have been more wrong. If the punk hadn't backed off, Marcus was fairly certain his next stop would have been the emergency room.
"Ah, hell…" Marcus muttered, realizing he wasn't always right, either.
The woman in the tank top turned at the commotion, and when her face came into full view, he did a genuine double-take.
She was stunning from the neck down, just as he'd observed. But her face… it was a jarring mismatch. Not ugly, but distinctly off. Her eyes were set a little too close together, and her expression was one of permanent, weary distaste, as if she'd just caught a whiff of something foul. It was a face that simply did not belong to the confident, seductive body he'd been admiring.
He actually owed that redheaded punk a beer. The kid had just saved him from walking straight into a profoundly awkward situation.
Marcus shook his head, a wry, self-deprecating smirk twisting his lips. "Yeah, never judge a book by its cover, Marcus. You'd think you'd have learned that by now."
Voices chattered all around him. News about Dragonfly Corp and Dominion was inescapable, generating a buzz so intense it managed to overshadow even the brutal summer heat.
Dominion was Dragonfly Corp's virtual reality MMORPG, developed over two decades in partnership with national research institutions. The technology was exclusively theirs, and the buzz was all about a few key features:
Near-Total Realism: A virtual world with almost 90% realism, using advanced DNA-based identity control; one person, one account, for life.
Official Backing: The game launched with the full, unprecedented support of the federal government.
Real-World Economy: It had partnered with the Big Five banks to enable a direct, real money-to-game currency exchange, though this feature was slated to be delayed for one month post-launch to ensure game balance.
The AI God: The traditional model was shattered by the fact that the world was controlled entirely by a super-intelligent AI named "Skynet." There were no human administrators or GMs, eliminating human interference and making cheating virtually impossible.
In short, Dominion was being pitched as humanity's second chance, a parallel world. In the game, anything was possible. With skill, effort, and a little luck, a player could become a hero, a king, a legend. No wonder the city had gone insane.
Marcus had graduated college a year ago and landed a decent job, full of hope and dreams. That was when he made the decision to break up with Snow, the love of his life. After that, work became his only focus, a desperate attempt to bury the pain.
Six months into the job, he'd finally started to find his footing. The new environment, the new connections, and the new friends had gradually chipped away at his grief, restoring his old, optimistic self and giving him a fresh sense of purpose.
But three months ago, his disgusting, corpulent boss's wife had run off, cleaning out their joint accounts. The bitter old man, in a spectacular display of misplaced rage, had somehow decided Marcus was to blame, as if Marcus's good looks were a weapon he'd wielded against the man's marriage.
Marcus had the looks, sure, but what did that have to do with the bastard's wife? The boss had treated him like a cancer, firing him on a trumped-up charge and leaving him high and dry.
But the whole thing didn't depress him. It didn't even annoy him. In a weird way, it lit a fire under his ass.
He remembered his last day at the company, publicly roasting that pathetic old man in front of everyone. Every insult hit its mark, nailing the guy's flaws and weaknesses perfectly. The boss was left sputtering and stammering, his face so red Marcus thought he was going to have a stroke on the spot.
Man, it was satisfying.
So when Marcus heard about Dominion's beta test, he decided to jump in. The real money exchange feature really caught his attention, and he was sick of working for other people and dealing with their crap.
Life should be about enjoying yourself, not exhausting yourself or kissing someone else's ass to get by.
"I'd like one Pro VR headset, please." Finally, it was his turn. Marcus flashed a smile at the attractive saleswoman, his eyes inadvertently dipping to the impressive cleavage revealed by her v-neck shirt.
'Not bad at all.'
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Author's Note:
Hope you enjoyed the opening of the story. I'm open to any criticism or corrections, so don't hesitate to point out mistakes or plot holes, I will make adjustments where needed. If you're enjoying it so far, don't forget to add it to your library and please support with Power Stones to help the book reach more readers.