The Twist

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Brown grinned and laughed. "That's right, fuck you. Fuck all of you. You profit-killing, reputation-destroying, selfish pieces of human garbage."

Quill was so shocked that he stood up. What the hell was going on? Surely this wasn't the world's sickest joke? A deep feeling of unease snaked around his gut. Did he just waste a small fortune buying this game?

Duarte spread his hands wide, a greasy smile spreading over his lips. "This is our revenge, motherfuckers! Years in the making, and oh, it feels sweet. We've gathered so many of the former employees who accused us of baseless crimes, and who led unionization efforts. We've gathered the politicians and lawyers who fucked us. We gathered the big-name streamers and influencers who enticed millions of players to leave. And we just locked all of you into this game — permanently."

Quill felt a surge of panic. He waved his finger in the shape of an M, bringing up the player menu. Scrolling through the options, he searched for the logout button. But he couldn't see it. He glanced around and saw similar worry appearing on the faces of others around him.

"I can't find the quit or logout button."

"It has to be here somewhere. Where is it?"

"This can't be happening."

Brown threw back his head and howled. "That's right: yer fucked now!"

Ah, so that hadn't been a typo in the intro after all.

"Don't worry," Duarte assured them all, "all of your devices have connective ports to easily allow you to be put on life support. And we just published a so-called 'bug report' to the media explaining the fact that nobody is able to disconnect. So someone should come along at some point to plug you all in and keep you alive. We've warned them not to try to disconnect you lest they give you brain damage and turn you into a vegetable, or give you a heart attack. After all, we wouldn't want you to just up and die on us right away. You have a game to play, right?" He gave them an evil grin.

A ripple of fear tore through the crowd. They were taking this too far to be some screwed-up joke. But could these two really be holding a million people hostage?

Quill felt a shiver crawl up his back. Something told him this was exactly what it appeared to be. It was too messed up to be anything but real. He silently cursed the corporate bastards and their heinous plot.

"Now," Brown smugly told them, "all is not lost. To get out of here and survive to live again in the real world is simple. You just have to clear the game." He fought a smile as if he were in on a secret they didn't know. Which was probably the case. "There are two starter cities and multiple regions. Each region has a level cap. Defeat the boss of a region to unlock the next, then go on to the new area to continue levelling up and gaining more abilities. Defeat the last boss of the last region and maybe you can get yourselves out of the game."

Maybe? Quill and everyone else really didn't like the way he emphasized that word.

"Not that we'll be around to see you play," Duarte pointed out. "We've got a nice little agreement with a certain non-extradition country that we're already jetting off to even as we speak. We've decided to give up this bullshit of constantly trying to cater to selfish and demanding players who like to stab us in the back."

"And frankly," Brown snorted, "fuck the #MeToo stuff. We like our frat boy culture just fine. You want to cater to a bunch of stuck-up, man-hating, frigid prudes who cry rape every time you give them a compliment, go for it. While ultra-feminists and their spineless man-dogs make the world less fun for everyone, we'll be gorging on craft beer and gourmet food for the rest of our lives, swimming in luxury and naked women who actually appreciate us."

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