“Shut that down!” a deep and raspy voice screamed down the phone line to Darren.

  “I’ll get it back to normal as soon as I can. I don’t know how this happened, I’m very sorry,” Darren grovelled.

  “You’d better get it back to normal or you’ll find yourself being watched!” The voice threatened. “You’ve no idea how much these changes have affected the market.”

  “Yes sir, I know sir. I’ll sort it out,” Darren said as he quickly fumbled to find the hang-up button.

  He looked down at his laptop screen and sighed. He knew he’d gotten himself in too deep, but at this point he had no recourse. He closed the computer and picked it up, heading out from his dingy bedroom to his Subaru.

  Darren drove like a madman on his way to Michael’s house. It mattered not that it was a Saturday – nay, a Saturday at 11pm – he was going to ensure Michael fixed whatever was wrong with the PM file.

  As he pulled up to Michael’s small home, the oversized exhaust pipe roared, waking up Michael as well as half of the neighbourhood. Darren stormed up to the front door and rapped aggressively on it.

  Soon Michael’s face appeared, unimpressed at the arrival of his unwelcome visitor.

  “We have a doorbell,” Michael said, motioning to the Ring camera by the door.

  “You’ve got more to worry about than your damn doorbell,” Darren said gruffly, pushing past Michael into his living room. “Why is the PM file playing up?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael lied.

  “There is rare loot all over the place and some of the zombies are even trying to pat the animals – it’s a joke!” Darren spat.

  “Look, I may have changed a couple of sliders to make it slightly more pleasant for the girls in there,” Michael conceded. “But what does it matter? You’re still making their afterlife a misery – isn’t that what you want?”

  “You’ve got to fix it immediately!” Darren yelled, his face turning a bright red as veins bulged in his forehead.

  “Or what?” Michael replied.

  “Or else! You want to keep your job don’t you? I’d hate for Dr Paisley to find out about what you’ve been up to…” Darren said.

  “I don’t care anymore,” Michael replied. “I’ve already organised a meeting with Dr Paisley; I’m coming clean. Then you can’t keep blackmailing me into doing your bidding.”

  Panic and rage gripped Darren in equal measure. Without Michael to run the technical side of his ploy, Darren would be left to run his part of the operation solo, and his lack of technical skill would lead to his downfall.

  “Fix it now!” Darren screamed.

  “No! Now get out of my house!” Michael replied.

  Darren walked closer to Michael, his unwavering stare fixed as he raised his fist.

  “THWAK!” Darren socked Michael in the face. Michael recoiled instinctively, blood dripping from his right nostril.

  “I’m calling the police! Get the fuck out of my house!” Michael exclaimed.

  Darren turned and left without saying another word. His tactics had failed in getting Michael to cooperate, so, with his tail between his legs, he retreated, before any police could add to his growing list of problems. Michael followed him out furiously, grabbing a handful of gravel and peppering it at Darren as he left. Darren jumped in his car and skid his wheels as he sped away, the ridiculously large spoiler now dented with multiple pebble-shaped holes, courtesy of Michael’s departing gifts.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “What am I going to do now?” Darren said to himself, his predicament now far more pressing than it was previously.

  Darren’s mobile rang, the ominous label of ‘Unknown Caller’ in scrolling marquee across the screen. He gulped as he answered.

  “How is our little problem going, Darren?” the familiar raspy voice demanded.

  “My tech guy wouldn’t cooperate,” he replied, “but I showed him who’s boss – I think his nose is broken,” Darren tried big-noting himself, to no avail.

  “You imbecile! He’s probably calling the police as we speak!” the voice chastised.

  “Yeah he did say that,” Darren responded. “But I’ve left, so they can’t find me.”

  “How on earth did your tiny brain think that getting more eyes onto our little enterprise was a good thing? You must be even more dimwitted than I initially thought!”

  “I thought he’d do what I wanted if I hit him – he always did when we were in high school,” Darren replied.

  “You overgrown school bully,” the voice taunted. “You’ve become a liability. We’ll have to rethink our arrangement.”

  “No, no, please, I need this money. I’ll do whatever you say,” Darren begged.

  “I’m going to put one of my men as your technical advisor,” the voice said. “You’re going to get him a job with immediate and full access to the systems so we can fix your mistakes,” the voice boomed.

  “Yes sir, I’m… okay, I’ll make it happen. Just send though his name and I’ll get him clearance,” Darren said.

  “You’d better,” the voice said finally before hanging up the phone in Darren’s ear.

  Darren, shaken by the call and actively avoiding the police, barrelled out of town, heading straight to his only lifeline: his uncle. As he pulled into the driveway of his uncle’s cavernous mansion, several security guards approached the gaudy Subaru, concerned about its arrival at nearly midnight. Darren turned off the engine and got out.

  “I need to see Geoff!” he said to the nearest guard.

  “Sir, I think you’d better leave,” the guard replied firmly.

  “What’s all this commotion?” A voice came from the front door of the mansion. “I heard some ungodly rumbling and now you’re all standing around in my yard.”

  “Sir, we’re just removing this man from the premises,” the guard advised.

  Darren stood tall and waved his hand enthusiastically.

  “Darren! My boy! What brings you to my place at this time of night?” said Geoff, Darren’s uncle.

  “Am I glad to see you! It’s a long story…” Darren said.

  “Well come inside and tell me all about it,” Geoff said, accommodating Darren’s late-night arrival.

  The two men walked inside the mansion and the troop of security personnel went back to their posts, with the head guard scowling at the dented Subaru as he walked past.

  Back at Michael’s house, police soon arrived as Michael packed his nose with tissue.

  “Hello sir, how can we assist you tonight?” an officer asked Michael.

  “I’ve been assaulted and I want to press charges,” Michael blurted out.

  “Who assaulted you?” the officer enquired.

  “Darren Meagher; I work with him at Stygian Synapses. He came in here tonight and punched me in the face!” Michael recounted to the officer.

  “I see. Well let me sit down with you and I’ll take your statement and we can go from there,” the officer responded.

  As the officer and Michael sat at his dining table, the officer’s radio started beeping.

  “Excuse me, I’ve got to answer this,” he said to Michael, stepping away from the table. “Hello? Yes Sergeant, I’m here with him now. Okay. Yes. I understand. Will do.”

  “Everything okay?” Michael enquired, still mopping up blood from his aching nose.

  “Yeah so it looks like I have to go. Clearly nothing has happened here tonight,” the officer replied.

  “What do you mean? Can’t you see my nose? I need to report this crime!” Michael barked, concerned and perplexed by the officer’s change in demeanour.

  “Looks like you just ran into a door. I’ll be on my way,” The officer said as he walked out of the house and to his cruiser.

  “What the hell?!” Michael said, his hands in the air with dismay and confusion.

  The officer drove away, leaving Michael bruised and bloodied, without so much as taking a statement.

  “I even have footage!” Michael said out loud as he looked towards both his Ring camera and the one inside he had set up to monitor his mother while he was out.

  He turned to walk back inside, disheartened by the refusal of help from the officer and dismayed by the evening’s events. Michael walked into his study and sat at his computer, drafting his usual daily diary email, noting down all the details of what had just unfolded and attaching the Ring camera footage for posterity.

  Disheartened and dismayed he may be, but defeated he was not.