The Game Of Profit

Chapter 1:The Party

The City of Hawk Island, SouthSide District

Twain's Apartment

Friday, 10:00 PM

The story began on a Friday night. The Southside district was dead silent, as it always was after dark. The area was littered with abandoned buildings, burnt-down houses, rusted-out cars, and mounds of garbage. It was a slum with very few signs of life.

It was a bad neighborhood. It was even worse at night. None of the buildings had any lights on, with one exception; Twain's apartment.

Twain's apartment was on the third floor; the top floor. He was throwing a party with his seven friends, and he wanted the whole neighborhood to know about it. His two neighbors, who lived below him, had already sent in several noise complaints. They had even paid him a few visits, but nothing could stop this party. The music was booming, and it faintly echoed throughout the neighborhood.

The inside of Twain's apartment was loud and chaotic. Plastic cups, chips, pizza boxes, beer bottles, plates, etc. filled the trashcan and overflowed onto the ground. The music was cranked to eleven playing "A Forest" by The Cure.

In the living room, Jed, Klutz, and Eugene were playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Two. The sound of gunfire and explosions echoed throughout the apartment complex, causing the neighbors to scream into their pillows.

Jed was a fat bald man. An immigrant from England. He was wearing a stained t-shirt and a paper crown from Burger King.

Klutz had on a bomber jacket and at least a pound of gel in his slicked-back hair.

Eugene was wearing this quirky T-shirt with the picture of a tuxedo printed on it. Something that a total dork would wear.

For the past hour, Jed and Klutz had been playing a 1v1 against each other, so Eugene just sat there on the floor. Waiting for a turn that would never come.

Jed screamed with anger. A heated gamer moment. Klutz had decided to use the riot shield. How foolish of him.

"Klutz, You're cheating!" Jed yelled.

"Cheating? What are you talkin about? How am I cheating?"

"You keep using that riot shield because you suck at the game."

"How is using the riot shield cheating? It's in the game! It was put there by the game developers. Geez, dude..."

Everyone else was partying in the dining room. Vaughn, who was wearing a Cookie Monster hat and a Troll Face t-shirt, was sticking his head out the window. Volt was doing the same. They had been harassing anyone who dared walk past Twain's apartment. A large and round man was seen walking alone, so Volt began to insult him.

"Hey, you down there! Yeah, you! The fat one! Uhhhhh..... You're fat!"

The man looked around, confused, not sure who said that. He eventually looked up and saw two young men three stories above him.

"Aye, where are you headed, big guy? The gym?" Vaughn asked.

The man stomped his feet and yelled, "Shut up! I'm gonna come up there and kick your ass!"

"Oh yeah? Fat chance," Vaughn responded.

Volt pulled out a bag of Pop Its and started throwing them at the man below. He ran away, crying.

Volt and Vaughn withdrew their heads from the window and bumped fists.

The host of the party, Twain, was sitting at the kitchen table with Nate and Wells. Twain and Nate were having a conversation about their finances. Well actually, it was more like Twain was bragging about how much money he makes, as Nate smiled and nodded along. Wells just sat there silently drinking as he usually does.

In the living room, Klutz got up from the couch, "I'm grabbing more chips. Be right back."

"C-can I have a turn at the game now?" Eugene asked as he reached for the controller.

Klutz paused for a moment, "No."

Klutz quickly walked into the kitchen with his glass pint in one hand and a controller in the other. As he stumbled into the kitchen, his leg snagged on the doorway, and he fell to the ground. The pint flew across the room, smashing on the floor next to Vaughn.

Vaughn turned around, "Hey nice one butterfingers. You got beer on my shoes."

Twain slammed his fist on the table, "Goddamnit Klutz! That's the third glass you dropped tonight! Wells, can you get this guy a refill? Preferably in a sippy cup."

Wells got up and made Klutz another drink, as Twain regained his train of thought.

"Anyways, where was I? Oh Yeah! Business has been good to me. I just made another ten grand on a new scheme."

"Oh really? Doing what?" Nate asked unenthusiastically.

"I've been buying up fake Gucci sneakers from this guy in China. I can resell them in the States for a five to one return. These dumb-ass teenagers can't tell the difference."

"Nice."

"And also, I created this sham Non-profit Organization. I've been laundering a ton of money through it."

At this point, Nate was starting to get annoyed by Twain's constant bragging. He had been going on and on about his schemes and investments. He talked of nothing else.

"Good for you Twain. You know, I've made quite a bit of money myself. Maybe you heard about that crypto boom?" Nate said, smugly.

"Oh really?"

"Yep. Doubled my money in just a few months. Made over eleven grand."

Twain began to smirk, "Hmm. Well, that's good to hear, Nate.... It's just... You don't look like you've made eleven grand."

"And what's that supposed to mean, Twain?"

Twain stood up and started to show off every part of his outfit.

"Check out my outfit! New Gucci t-shirt: Cost me five hundred dollars. Gucci Jeans: Also five hundred dollars. Gucci belt: Three hundred dollars, and that was a steal! Doc Marten boots: Cost me over two hundred dollars!"

Twain then turned his attention to Wells. "Check Wells out! This dude has on a black turtleneck sweater from Hugo Boss! How much did that cost you, Wells?"

Wells took a sip of his beer. He responded in a monotone voice, "Hundred eighty."

"What else you got on? Your glasses! Those ray bans? Probably cost you like a hundred forty, right?"

"Yeah."

"You see what I'm talking about Nate? Wells and I are DRESSED OUT over here. We're dressed out because we're ballers. We're hitting it big! Now let's look at your outfit, Nathan. What are those?! Arizona jeans? That's like twenty bucks or something at JCPenney. A red checkered flannel, probably on sale for fifteen bucks at Khols. My point is you're not dressed like somebody who just made eleven grand. You're not even dressed like a Schemiester... You're dressed like a Corpo Slave."

Volt and Vaughn were laughing at Nate. He had been thoroughly roasted by Twain. Nate was very angry and humiliated by this, but he kept it all inside. He kept his composure and his smirk.

"Okay, so what? You bought a bunch of Gucci to show off. That doesn't take away from the fact that my scheme was more profitable than yours. I bet that I could easily out-earn you any day of the week."

"Oh really? You think so? You think your schemes could even hold a candle to mine?"

"I do, yeah,"

"Okay..... Then let's do it."

"Let's do what?" Nate asked, confused.

"Let's see who can make the most money. We'll make it into a game. Hey everyone! Get in here!"