Got the idea while reading the book about gaming and well . . . . just see for yourself! *shrugs*
Game Over by Boogermeister
Chapter 1- Got Pwn'd, Noob!
Deep cyan eyes, with pupils dilated by the intense glare of flashing lights from the TV screen. Lips, dried and cracked due to constant and stressful gnawing on the skin. Bright light-blue hair frayed from the occasional scratching. Muscles and bones stiffened in the thumbs as they continuously smashed onto the controller buttons. The need to relieve oneself was reaching to the breaking point in a torturing manner. But the young man couldn't due anything about it, not until he has finished his goal.
"Dude, you can't beat me . . . .! Once I'm done, I'm gonna shit on your dead body!" a voice jeered at his headset, to which he chuckled in disbelief.
"Doubt it, I'm the one with the better score," he sneered. "I'll be the one who's gonna shit, piss, eat nachos on it, and then shit again on yours!" Another verbal jeering came through, and he cursed the second one out.
And yet this was considered normal to him, as he was playing an online shooter game on his Xbox 360, decorated with old stickers. He finally blinked as his first-person character crept around the corner to see his enemy attempting to hide behind a pile of rubble. He sneered in glee, he found him. Without warning, he rushed up to the crouching figure and immediately shot him execution-style. "Oh fuck! I fucking hate you, Pantera6!" the person whined in frustration.
"Oh come on, you know you love me," smirked the man with a mocking kissing sound.
"Fuck off . . . .!" 'Pantera6' scoffed in amusement when the connection was cut off. He saved his winnings on his game before finally taking off the console, standing up from his lumpy couch and cracking the stiff bones in his body. Despite the dimmed (and messy) living room, he glanced up to realize that it was 1:40 in the morning, more or less, on the wall clock.
"Shit . . . . and I gotta get up before nine tomorrow too . . . ." he sighed, cracking his neck and he moved for the bathroom. He shouldn't had played for seven hours straight, but he was so caught up in the moment. Just because he played video games, it didn't mean that he shouldn't be distracted from making them.
The man was lucky to own a motorcycle to drive to work, most of the other co-workers either had bikes or scooters (mostly a kick-type) to get here. He slowed to a stop in front of a ten-story coporate building, practically unnoticeable due to the drab and neutral-looking outerstructure but the man sighed in anticipation. Removing his helmet he brisked for the door and pushed in, bright and bold colors invaded his visions as it usually does on a daily basis.
"Morning . . . ." muttered the receptionist behind her swimsuit magazine.
"Try to sound more energetic, Lisa," he smirked as he passed by her desk for the elevators.
"Whatever . . . ." she sighed, lazily turning a page. The man shrugged when the metal doors opened and stepped in, pressing the '6' button as the doors closed back. Such a cursed number and yet a lucky one, he thought fondly as he waited three seconds exactly.
"Two, one . . . ." he muttered just before the doors opened, a lone paper plane listlessly flown by as he stepped out. He playfully frowned as he glared around the environment; two dozen cubicles decorated by each co-worker's own taste with the carpeted floor littered with paper balls and planes. "Yo, wake your ass up and get to work, you fucking waste of space!" he yelled out, earning more paper balls being chucked at him as well as occasional 'boos'. "Every damn week . . . ."
"It was expected, Grimmjow," smirked a red-haired man with a spiky ponytail, peeking over the short wall through his sunglasses. "Good thing you're not my boss like the rest of these pathetic losers."
"But your boss is also my boss, Renji, don't forget that," Grimmjow smirked. "Just go back hacking for free porn or something, and I'll do my job."
"Oh, speaking of which, I got news for you about your job," Renji replied as he stood up and walked up to his friend, who frowned in concern.
"What, I'm getting demoted or something?"
"Nah, just the 'Alpha Dog' just wanna speak to you about the fill-in for the junior designer," he said, removing his glasses. "Remember? We can't continue finishing Ripper until we find a guy to help your shit?"
"That's today?" Grimmjow grimaced slightly. If he had knew that the meeting was this day . . . . he wouldn't had wore a white T-shirt that read 'Suck It!' with a big arrow pointing down. It was possible that the newcomer was from a better gaming company, usually the ones that 'acts like dicks' in his mental opinion. "You saw him, the new guy?"
"Uh . . . . Just his arm when he stepped into the office," the red-head shrugged. "He looked scrawny by the look of it, but not as scrawny as Hanatarou. Whatever, just go and look for yourself."
"Shit, fine . . . ." Grimmjow turned to the elevators and pushed for up. His boss was the president of this gaming company aptly named 'Los Lobos', small compared to most other companies but it was virtually unknown over ten years back. But it became subsequently popular with the release of the acclaimed title Coyote Fangs, a first-person shooter/western game. The blunet was only a teen when it was released and although he had always wanted to be in the video game industry, playing the game itself prompted his dream further. Returning back to reality, Grimmjow waited inside the metal cube before it finally opened. There were four, five hallways on the top floor but he knew where to go to.
Walking leisurely with a few turns, he finally reached for the large set of dark oak doors and frowned. "Don't like this one bit . . . ." he sighed but straightened up as he raised a fist to knock firmly against the wood. "Starrk, it's Grimmjow," he called.
". . . . Great, come in," came a tired-sounding voice
The young man couldn't believe his luck when he applied for a job for Los Lobos. At first, he assumed that he was just getting a simple internship or a job to be a QA tester. Who would have thought that haviing an associate's degrees from a junior college would land him a role as a junior game designer. A level designer to be exact, but it was just the same considering that it was a small company and one job means several other jobs. He was shifting nervously in a chair, scratching his fuzzy orange hair as he stared down at the grey carpeted floor. His deep chocolate eyes glanced up at the one before him; the president.
The president was tall, with dark brown hair that appeared disheveled and slate grey eyes that were seconds away from closing permanently. The aura around didn't really oozed 'I'm god over you' type of ego but the man still felt apprehensive in front of him. "There's no need to worry . . . . Ichigo, was it?" the president muttered, lazily plopping his raised palm against his cheek. "It's just that we need to get this game done on time, so we can't be picky on who we hire for now. Not that we're saying that you're expendable . . . ."
"O-oh, yes! I do appreciate the responsibilities that's given to me, Mr. Gingerback-" Ichigo stammered as he sat up straight but the man shrugged.
"Sounds too old, just call me Starrk," he mumbled. "And in case you're wondering, I have a mild case of narcolepsy so I look tired even though I don't wish to be."
"Oh, I didn't notice that, sir," muttered Ichigo.
"Doesn't matter, I'm just satisfied that a young man like yourself have great talent, judging from your portfolio," he stated. "In no time, you might rank equally with one of my best guys." Ichigo blushed lightly at the compliment and glanced down. He really couldn't believe his luck, a son of a clinic doctor working for a gaming company. It was like a freaking jackpot. He couldn't help but smile a little about it, it was a dream come true. "However . . . . it may be a gaming industry, but it doesn't mean that everyone here just play video games," muttererd Starrk, slowly closing his eyes. "Well, we do but that's considered work . . . ."
"No, I understand and-" Ichigo blinked in surprise when he heard a sudden sound of soft snoring. He blinked again and frowned, that was unexpected to him. "Um . . . . Mr. Starrk?" he called out softly, tempting to stand up and move for the desk. But he froze in shock he heard loud knocking against the doors behind him.
"Starrk, it's Grimmjow!" came a muffled shout, jolting Starrk awake with a soft snort. The president yawned silently before blinking his eyes open, as if it was normal to him. But Ichigo furrowed his brows in total confusion, who would rudely interrupt their meeting like that.
". . . . Great, come in," muttered Starrk as he leaned back. The door finally opened as Ichigo glanced behind him and stepped in the man named Grimmjow. Within a second, he felt intimidation coming out of the other man. Everything about him just said 'bad-ass' from his unusual hair color to his intense cyan eyes to his biker-like outfit despite of the messenger bag draped across his chest. As the blue-haired man strolled up, Ichigo accidently locked eyes with him and abruptly glanced away.
What was wrong with him, feeling frightened by the likes of him?
However, when Grimmjow opened the door and walked in, a fuzzball of orange hair hit his eyes. He blinked, a lot of his co-workers had odd hairstyles and colors but he had yet see one in that color. As he stepped closer, the other man glanced up and caught his deep chocolate eyes. He only had a brief chance of seeing his face before the younger man looked away, but it was clear to him that he was more than a new person. His forehead would say 'inexperience' if possible. Hell, the kid was dressed in a yellow-and-white striped polo shirt and khaki slacks, a definite translation of 'I'm new here, please beat me up'.
"So . . . . it's this guy, huh?" Grimmjow bluntly questioned, glancing him once more before turning to Starrk. "What's next, a puppy to write out good ideas?"
"Grimmjow . . . . this is Ichigo Kurosaki, and he's here to help finish up Ripper whether you like it or not," muttered Starrk.
"Not," smirked Grimmjow yet his superior simply blinked. "But I have to put up with your decision anyway, Starrk. What kinda guy is he?"
"He's a little inexperience . . . . but a quick learner if given a chance," he replied. Grimmjow smirked once again before glancing down at Ichigo, who was staring down at his lap. This fresh meat needed to be tenderized, he thought.
"Hey, get up, it's time to start working," he taunted, reaching out to ruffle at the amazingly soft tresses. Ichigo immediately glared up as the other man stepped away, before finally standing up. Grimmjow smiled, the eyes said something else to him. "Name's Grimmjow Jaegerjacques, the leader of the designer team and you're my slave from now on," he smirked as he held out his hand.
". . . . Ichigo Kurosaki, it's a pleasure to meet you," Ichigo reluctantly introduced, taking the offer with a firm grip.
This man was strange to him, but Ichigo knew that Grimmjow was his superior. Meaning that he would have to respect him, even if he wouldn't get the respect back. His best friend, Chad, was the one who helped him get the job since he was also working here for a few years. He was told that his friend was easily hired as a character designer. So now both of them are working under Grimmjow, who was staring ahead and at the blurry reflection of the metal door of the elevator. He glanced up at him and quietly cleared his throat, fiddling with his portfolio folder in his arms. "Um, Mr. Jaegerjaques-"
"You're calling me an old man?" frowned Grimmjow as he suddenly whipped his head around. Ichigo flinched so greatly by his glare, nearly dropping his folder.
"What? N-n-no, since you're my supervisor I just thought-" he stammered nervously but Grimmjow let out an amused snort.
"Hah, you get scared so easily!" he smirked, softening his stare. "We don't call each other by our last name, you prude. If anything, we call each other by nicknames, more or less."
"Ah . . . . is that right?" Ichigo frowned in confusion. Grimmjow snorted again, just as the machine stopped.
"Man, my boys will eat your ass out raw . . . ." he growled lowly under his breath as the doors finally opened and stepped out. Ichigo quickly followed after him; almost immediately the typing noises from the computers stopped and many heads popped up over the cubicle walls. He stiffened in apprehension as he felt the eyes on him, their stares meant 'kill' in a metaphoric sense. "Hey, listen here, ass wipes!" Grimmjow shouted as he glared around the area. "This fresh meat here's Ichigo! Treat him like shit, and he'll blend in just right with your dumb asses! Ya got that!"
"No . . . .!" came a jeer.
"Who the fuck said that!" scoffed Grimmjow, which was responded by sporadic laughter. "All right, all right, on a serious note . . . . Rippers need to be released at the start of the summer season and we need all the help that we can," he continued with a cocky smile. "We're on a fucking tight schedule, and we cannot slack off. Got it? Now get to work, you dipshits." A few co-workers booed but obediently did what they were told.
Ichigo just blinked in amazement. The workers didn't seem to mind being cursed out by him, the work ethics here was so different than the average corporations. "Don't just stand there, get over here," scoffed Grimmjow when he glanced at the stunned person, already he was halfway down the walkway. "Need to show you your new prison cell."
"Ah, right," Ichigo nodded as he started to follow behind him, only to be chucked at with paper balls. "Ah! What the hell!" he suddenly yelled out. Taunts and laughter resonated throughout the workplace as he quickly rushed up to the smirking blunet. "Hey, what's with their problem? They're throwing stuff at me!" he scoffed.
"Come on, it's only paperballs and not paperweights," smirked Grimmjow. "You expect them to welcolme you with open arms, idiot? This is how we treat newcomers, I was initiated like that and now it's your turn."
"But . . . ." Ichigo frowned and sighed. "Fine, whatever . . . ."
"Good, your shit's next to my office so I'll keep an eye on you," he explained as he pointed at the nearest corner, where an opened door was a little over a yard away from the completely empty cubicle except for desk, chair, and computer. "Don't really care of how you decorate your shit, you can hang porn there as long as you got your work's done, okay?"
"S-sure, um, Grimmjow," shrugged Ichigo, as he began to make his way to his personal space.
"See, that wasn't so hard," smirked Grimmjow.
"Ichigo . . . .!" Ichigo briefly froze before turning around, his eyes widened in surprise when a bulking young man stood up from across the large room and walked up to him. His wavy brown hair covered most of his face, and his skin was a deep tan, but Ichigo blinked and smiled in relief.
"Chad, there you are!" he scoffed lightly, patting him on the arm. "It's been a while, man!"
"It's been a few months, we've been working on this game for so long . . . ." Chad muttered with a small smile.
"Huh, didn't know you guys know each other," shrugged Grimmjow, glancing between the two.
"Yeah, Chad's the one asked me to apply here," smiled Ichigo. "But I didn't know that he works here on this floor, I'm lucky . . . .!"
"Hey, less bromance and more working over there!" one co-worker yelled out jokingly.
"That's right, get to work," smirked Grimmjow as he went for his office. "But, Chad, please warn him about lunchtime. That's, what, three to four hours away?"
"Huh?" The lead designer closed his door, and Ichigo frowned in total confusion. "Wait, what does he mean by that, Chad?" he questioned.
"Hmm, I'll tell you later . . . . But it's good to see you, Ichigo," nodded Chad before going back to his area. Ichigo frowned again, walking to his seat and heavily sat down. So much stuff was rushing in his head, though he was glad that he saw his friend. At first, when Chad had started working in the gaming industry, Ichigo didn't really believe that it could be that hard to work there. That was understandable, considering that everybody assumed that the workers' job was to just play games.
And now he was allowed to experience the work life here, even if everybody here were assholes in his opinion.
Chad pulled Ichigo aside, into the hallways, just a few minutes before lunch starts and sighed lightly. "Okay . . . . guess you wanna know why I should warn you about something," sighed Chad, scratching the back of his head.
"Yeah, maybe you should," scoffed Ichigo, dusting shredded papers off his shoulder. Earlier, when the red-haired co-worker walked up to Grimmjow's office, he purposely tossed pieces of ripped papers at Ichigo as he passed by. And it wasn't the first time, once in a while, someone would toss either paper balls or eraser at him when passing by, one even chucked an empty can of Red Bull at his head. "What's up with those guys? They're bullying me all because I'm the new guy."
"That's the thing, you're new so you have to be hazed," said Chad. "It was the same thing with me, but it only lasted a few days. Usually, they would throw harmless things at you. But at lunchtime . . . ."
"What about it, Chad?" frowned Ichigo.
"They'd tie you to a chair and throw popcorn at you," he answered, and his friend scoffed in disbelief.
"You're serious about that?"
"Don't worry, they're not doing this because they hate you," he explained. "They want to see if you can endure the torture, which pales in comparison with our work schedules." Ichigo scoffed again, but that could be true. He hadn't heard much of his friend lately, and now he saw why. "Come on, you'll see what I'm talking about . . . ." he muttered as he led him to the stairway. Ichigo followed him downstairs to the second floor and into another hallway. "The break room's to the right . . . . brace yourself."
"Fine . . . ." sighed Ichigo. They reached a set of plain-looking doors and his best friend stepped forward to grip the handle. As soon as he opened it, Ichigo was abruptly pushed in. "Hey . . . .!" he yelped out as he staggered to a stop, only to be hauled to a chair. In a blur, he noticed that the co-workers were surround him as he was then tied down with thin ropes. "The hell? Let me go, damn it!" he scowled as he struggled.
"No way, you're getting your little punishment, newbie!" sneered the red-head, ruffling at his hair. Ichigo gritted and scowled at the attacker, making the rest of the guy laughed.
"Chad, help me out!" he scowled.
"Sorry . . . . I'm part of the hazing, Ichigo," shrugged Chad.
"That's right, little Ichi, he's one of us!" taunted the same red-head.
"Go fuck yourself . . . .!" Ichigo snapped at him, causing more laughter.
"Guess the preppy look is just a front with that attitude!" sneered one bald-headed co-worker.
"Only one way to find out, right Grimmjow?" the red-head smirked as he turned to Grimmjow, who was holding a large bowl of recently popped popcorn. Ichigo stopped stuggling and glared at the blunet, so he would be on it as well.
"I don't think that he's a pussy but one way to find out . . . . if he can take it," sneered Grimmjow as he stepped up to his new subordinate. Ichigo scoffed, he realized that his legs were tied as well as his arms and upper torso so he couldn't really struggle. "Aw, don't worry, we'll be gentle with you . . . ." he mocked, enjoying seeing the fire in his eyes. "Everybody ready?"
"Yeah . . . .!" cheered the guys, some of whom armed with bowls and bags of popcorn. Ichigo wanted to protest, only to be peppered with the still warm snacks. This couldn't be right to treat your workers, it was as if he was being initiated into a fraternity. Even his friend was throwing popcorns at him, though softer than the way others are throwing.
"Come on, stop it . . . .!" he scowled. "Ah! The salt went into my eye!"
"Good, that means we're doing it right!" smirked Grimmjow.
"Stop, I'm serious . . . .!" he winced. "I'll fucking kick your asses!"
"Ohh! Kitty got claws!"
"Okay, okay, what's going on here . . . .?" the throwing quickly stopped as Starrk stepped in, lazily glancing at the sight before him. "Oh, so this is what you're doing in here, huh?"
"Gotta haze the new guy, Starrk." smirked Grimmjow with a shrug.
"Hey, you're the boss here, can't you stop him?" scoffed Ichigo as he glanced the tired man with one good eye.
"Well, you're right about that . . . ." Starrk sighed as he walked up to Grimmjow, taking the half-empty bowl from him. "But then again, everyone must follow the unspoken law here." Immediately, he poured the rest of the content over Ichigo's head.
"Hey!" scowled Ichigo, salt sprinkled over his hair. Even the president was in on it.
"All right, guys, let him go and clean up this mess," said Starrk as he stepped away. "I swear, I should docked your pays for wasting snacks like this . . . ."
"As if you would, Alpha Dog," smiled the red-head.
"Whatever," he sighed, finally leaving. The guys grumbled as Chad moved to untie his friend, who quickly shook off the salt. He winced as he tried to rub his eye, as he glared up at his superior.
"You're an ass," he scoffed.
"Tch, welcolme to the pack, Ichigo," sneered Grimmjow as he patted him on the shoulder. "And don't mind Renji, he's an idiot."
"Hey, fuck you . . . .!" scoffed Renji.
"Just clean up this shit, you scum," Grimmjow smirked. Ichigo scowled; from morning he was nervous and a little naive and now he was pissed off at everybody, even the man before him with the 'Suck It!' shirt.
My head hurts but all for the good reasons. Now I put up a poll saying which city should this fic take place in America and I want your opinion, please! Ja ne!
Read and Review.
I'll update ASAP!