Colorado Game - 1. Chapter 1

I have to fully admit that I went into this week with a lot of negative thoughts. I'm not such a commercially oriented person and so when a company newsletter talks about a "team building week"... it rubs me the wrong way, you know? I hate that crap; I don't need to go hike up a mountain or be reborn with Joe Schmo from accounting to do my job. I have real friends for that. I just show up, do my work, don't ask too many questions and collect my paycheck when the contract is fulfilled.

So you'll understand that I wasn't in a very participating mood when I pulled into the parking lot that Saturday morning, a little before eight. I pretty much kept to the side of the excited throng while we waited for the transportation to wherever it was we were going to be taken to. My (granted, one-sided) opinion about the majority of the group was pretty standard; computer nerds, only better dressed. The company I currently work for, Forester Gaming, produces strategy games, mostly in the medieval or space categories and many of the programmers are very young; the average age is twenty five, like myself.

Before I continue, it might be prudent to tell you a little about myself.

My name is Mark Norcross and I'm, as said, twenty five years old. I'd like to think of myself as a free spirit, but maybe a bit of a loner. I'm 6'2 (1.88m) in height, weigh in at about 154lbs (70kg's) and am a little on the wiry side of things. I don't work out that much, just some weight training and then only when I feel like it. I like to dress myself in comfy T-shirts and jeans, preferably the worn kind, sneakers and a front-to-back cap. If I had to pick one thing about myself that makes me stand out in a crowd, it would have to be my eyes. The reason for that? Well, my left eye is green and the other is blue; the medical term for it is heterochromia. There's an ironic fun fact if I ever saw one; it's the only hetero thing about me. As for the rest; my hair is dark brown, and I'm not bad to look at, even if I say so myself. I'm also pretty easy going (have a bit of a mouth on me, though), got a few good friends who I hang out with on weekends. I like a beer, sometimes a few too many and I don't smoke (but don't mind it when others do).

As far as the matter of sexuality, briefly touched upon above; I don't like to flaunt the fact that I'm gay. I consider that a private matter, private between two people or in the privacy of ones home. I don't frequent gay bars, I don't play Gloria Gaynor every hour on the hour, and I keep my distance from the in-your-face guys who
prefer to show their difference to the masses. I'm not in the closet or anything; I just don't like that kind of lifestyle. The people who matter in my life, those are the people that know. Many may think every gay man is dressed in leather, prances around like (as Schwarzenegger called it) a girlie man, only sits on the toilet (which 60% of straight guys also do, FYI) and wave with our hands to the point where they'd fall off at any second; the fact of the matter is that a large percentage of us just don't go that way. Most of us simply accepted the fact that we're not going to have the dreams of our parents fulfilled; the white picket fence, become a doctor, have 2.5 kids and a Volvo.

My mom could've cared less about it and me? Well, I'll just say that my sexuality is mine and mine alone. If that means ‘bro's before hoe's' then that is my concern, not that of a nitwit president or politics in general. Oh, and I'm a democrat. Duh. So I guess I'm pretty normal. Yes, I do download pictures on the internet on occasion, and yes, I whack off when it turns me on. So sue me. While you're at it, sue the rest of America as well. That's as far as I'll go for now, this story will become graphic when it needs to.

Speaking of graphic:

I was hired by Forester Gaming to produce a musical score for their latest release, a medieval strategy game called ‘Knight Sword'. Ever since I was a kid, music has always been my outlet for anger, joy or sorrow and somehow, that turned into a professional career along the way to adult life. I attended Julliard, only to find myself extremely bored and unchallenged, so I dropped out in the second year, right in the middle of a boring recital. From there on, and contrary to the opinion of professors of the previously mentioned university (I’d never find a career without them), I've been lucky enough to get to where I am today, which is a freelance job of scoring commercials, documentaries and lately, games.

The job I'm currently working on landed in my lap when an employee of FG played a game I scored a few months before, who was impressed with its soundtrack. He took it to the office where he shopped it around at the appropriate levels and I got a call to discuss a potential collaboration. So I went for a meeting, got a preview of what the game was about, what they were looking for as far as ambience and mood was concerned, and then gave them a few suggestions as to what I thought would help the game-play along and so on. Apparently they liked it; a week later we signed a contract.

So, after working with FG for about two months now, I found myself here, in the company parking lot, waiting with the rest of the ‘nerds' (I’m not much better, I guess) to whatever was to come.

To be completely honest; I never gave them a chance. I never tried talking to them; the only people I talk to are the other three colleagues in the sound department, Joey Collins, Eric Delaney and Will Reynolds.
They are the three who give me the input, which they collect from other departments, input that enables me to create a sound specific to the game. And whattaya know; here are two of them right now, coming towards me with their backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Joey and Eric, two goofballs who constantly bicker, fight and compete with each other, found me leaning against the wall and joined me, one on each side.

"You two have been on one of these things before?" I asked, curious. Eric nodded.

"Yeah man... you'll love it. It's great. Last time, we went to the airport and got on a plane to Cancun. We partied all week... I'm still hung over if I think back about it." Joey agreed wholeheartedly with him, which made me think a bit more positive about whatever was to come; maybe this wouldn't be such a bad week.

"This is my third time," Joey said, whispering in a hushed tone. "And this time I'm gonna try and see if I can get into Janice's pants. I almost got to second base in Cancun. If we hadn't been interrupted by this dickhead over here..." I stifled a smile when he nodded towards Eric.

Janice Heartman: Joey's project of the decade, according to Will. He had been chasing her from the moment he'd started working at FG and I couldn't blame him; when I had first seen her, she'd almost made me rethink my preference for the male population; she was a stunning beauty and had brains too. She was the assistant to Mr. Forester, the founder of the company, and his brother, the company vice-president. I'd read about them; some hotshot businessmen ala Donald Trump, making money like water and, according to rumors, spending it like... well, Ivana Trump, I guess. I didn't know much about them. Last thing I heard, FG's vice-president was somewhere overseas, in Japan or some faraway place, and the company president was somewhere around the office, counting his money.

"Janice has been giving you the runaround for three years now," Eric said, "don't you think it's time to move on?"

"No way!" Joey exclaimed a bit too loudly. He lowered his voice when several heads turned our way. "She wants me, I know she does. Man, if you hadn't barged in, I could've have been the father of a couple of kids with her by now."

"In your dreams, man," Eric scornfully replied. And there they went again, calling each other names, slapping each other. But it never went too far and it was obvious that they were best friends. I knew for a fact that they spend most of their weekends together in bars, double dating chicks and the like.

"Guys..." I asked, waiting for them to finish their routine.

When it took a little longer than usual, I yelled it a bit harder and pointed to a bright blue sports car that I knew belonged to Janice. Immediately, Joey stopped the verbal and physical fighting with Eric. God, he practically drooled as she rose from the car. She was dressed casually, wearing jeans and a leather jacket sporting the orange/white horse-head of the Denver Broncos. The cap on her head had the same logo. She waved when a few people in the larger group called her name; one of the geeks even jogged over to offer his assistance with her luggage, much to Joey's chagrin.

"Idiot," he mumbled. "Like she would go for a beer-bellied, forty year old nerd; not when she could get a twenty-something hunk to fill her nights with hot, passionate sex."

"Like you? Sure. You'll be beating the monkey for a couple of years more, dude," Eric said, starting another round of insults. Then she surprised all three of us when she declined the help of Daddy40, took out a backpack from the trunk and walked over to where we were standing.

"Hey guys," she said, sending us a smile. "Hi Joey." That sent Joey's cheeks into overtime; he went as red as a tomato.

"H...hi," he stuttered, not at all looking like the twenty-something hunk to fill her nights with hot passionate sex, like he promised not a few seconds earlier. Well, that wasn't true; Joey did look like such a hunk. He was nice eyecandy, if you like the type. And also a nerd. And now that he was blushing, shy like schoolboy... he looked downright cute. Not my type but cute nonetheless.

"Ross here yet?" she asked, to no one in particular. I frowned when the other two guys shook their heads.

"Who the hell is Ross?" I asked, curious, setting my backpack on the ground; damn thing was heavy.

"That would be me," a deep voice said behind me. I turned around and the first thing I was looking at was a broad chest, about an arm’s length away, covered in beige cashmere. I took an involuntary step back and had to look up; damn he was tall. I'm no midget but he was at least 6'5. I grinned stupidly, extending my hand.

"Oops... sorry. I'm Mark. You with Janice here?" I asked, trying to get my wits back. That wasn't easy because, damn, he was handsome!

As my eyes traveled up to make contact with a pair of stormy grey eyes, it was hard not to notice the rest his chiseled facial features; jaw, cheekbones. He had that ‘oompf' thing; where it feels like you're hit in the gut and all wind is knocked out of you? He had that for me. Don't ask me what it is, or why it happens, it just does. And it may happen for me but it probably won't happen for you; with the same guy, I mean. What I like, the other wouldn't even spit on and vice versa.
He accepted my hand and shook it, narrowing his eyes at me and tilting his head a bit, frowning. I get that a lot. No, not because I'm so devilishly handsome but because of my eyes, remember? People generally don't see it at once but they know something is ‘off'.

"Ehm... no," he said. He looked again but couldn't see it yet; I generally don't like it when people stare at me like that. Then he let it go for the moment and looked over my shoulder, smiling.

"She's with me. Actually, you're all with me; I'm Ross Forester."