Jeremy Miller put the stub of his cigarette into the remainder of his scotch. He had probably had enough.

"Sir, we're closing."

It was the bartender. Jeremy waved a hand dismissively and left a fifty for the five drinks he had enjoyed over the course of an hour. He felt sure his good tipping was the only reason the bartender still let him in.

"Do you want me to call you a cab?" The bartender asked. His expression was one of concern.

Jeremy shook his head simply and headed out before the bartender started insisting.

It was raining outside, but that was alright: at least the scenery matched the way he felt. If he had come out to a clear night with lover's holding hands on the sidewalk it'd only have pissed him off.

Time for a little game called wave down a cab, he thought.

One drove by without stopping, splashing him in wet, dirty water.

"You fucking bastard!" Jeremy shouted, shaking his fist. A shit ending to a shit day. Then the limo pulled up.

At first Jeremy thought someone was stopping at the bar for some reason. Maybe they didn't know it was closed. He stepped out of the way to give them a path, but the limo didn't move. After a few moments of this, the window lowered. The rain and darkness made it impossible to see within, but Jeremy could make out a voice.

"Mr. Miller, I presume?"

"Fuck off," Jeremy said, walking away. Whatever it was they wanted from him, he wanted no part of it. And EVERYONE wanted something. Especially people that sought you out.

The limo moved alongside him, keeping pace.

"Mr. Miller, a moment of your time, if you would. I have a proposition from my employer that may be of some --"

"I said FUCK OFF!" and Jeremy kicked the limo and picked up his pace to emphasize his point. It had been a stupid thing to do: pissing off rich people never ended well. That was something else he had learned in recent months.

The limo continued to pull alongside him.

"Citadel," said the voice from within.

Jeremy stopped in his tracks and turned to the half lowered tinted window.

"What did you just say?" he was shivering now, and not from the cold and wet.

"Enter the limo and I'll tell you that and more."

Jeremy hesitated, looking down the rain swept sidewalk. It was a long walk home.

"Let me give you a ride home, Mr. Miller. I just want to chat with you until then. If you aren't interested I won't bother you again."

Jeremy sighed. Rich people were rich because they were convincing, plain and simple. Or they hired convincing people. Still, he lived only ten minutes away. What was the harm?

"You have until we reach my street."

The inside of the limo was exactly what you might expect, maybe a little nicer. There was a mini bar and a small television - currently off. The voice belonged to a golden haired suit wearing man in his early thirties. Jeremy stayed quiet. If this man wanted his shot that was fine, but he wasn't going to encourage him.

"Have you ever heard of Chrysalis Online?" the man asked.

Jeremy scoffed. Of course he'd heard of the game. Despite what Jeremy felt was a stupid name and gaudy play environment the game had single-handedly crushed the competition and cornered the virtual reality online market.

"Excellent. That'll make things easier. I'm going to cut to the chase, Mr. Miller."

Jeremy nodded, he was paying more attention to where they were headed than anything else.

"Tell your man to take a right here."

The man in the suit chuckled.

"Mr. Miller, 'my man' is quite aware of where you live."

It was then that it occurred to Jeremy that getting into the limo with a stranger was maybe not a great idea.

"Relax, Mr. Miller. We know a lot about you. For example, you're a man with troubles. Debts. You've been accused of being a part of the infamous hacking group 'Citadel'. And you have no family to speak of."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Jeremy swallowed hard. Was he being threatened?

"What do you want?"

The man reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. Jeremy relaxed.

"I represent Murdock Inc and Chrysalis Online. In short, we'd like to give you an off the books job. You will be compensated, Mr. Miller. A ballpark number is written on the back of the card. An appointment has been scheduled for tomorrow at our main building down town. We understand that your schedule is quite -ahem- open so we took the liberty of making an appointment. Twelve o'clock sharp. No need to call us, just show up."

The limo driver knocked twice on his side of the window.

"We're here, Mr. Miller. I'd appreciate it if you made no mention of our meeting."

The man's eyes narrowed in a way that Jeremy did not like as he made this last request.

Jeremy locked the doors as soon as he was inside. He popped himself in a chair and poured himself a glass of the cheap bourbon he kept at home. The card read:

Murdock Inc.

2100 Absolom Ave.

That was it. No zip code. No phone number. It creeped Jeremy out, somehow. It was like they didn't want him to have any direct tie to them. On the back of the card was written a number so large that Jeremy stared at it a full minute, continuing to think that he'd made some mistake.

He got up, walked to the sink, and poured the rest of the cheap bourbon down the drain, his eyes not leaving the card as he did so. He couldn't get wasted tonight: he had a meeting tomorrow.

The next day Jeremy showed up to the glass mega structure that housed Murdock Inc. At the front desk he moved to explain about his meeting, but the receptionist, a cute blonde, smiled and guided him through before he could open his mouth.

"Head straight for elevator four, sir. It's already programmed to take you to the right place."

Jeremy was wearing his only suit, which he used only for interviews and occasions where he was dragged to something formal by co-workers, friends, or his girlfriend. All no longer in the equation any more.

The floor where the elevator stopped was some sort of beta testing area. He was surprised they had one in the corporate building but hey, it was Murdock Inc. They had enough money to do what they liked.

"Mr. Miller! Glad you could make it," said an older, robust man who more a conservative suit and tie. He patted Jeremy on the shoulder like an old friend and escorted him past the open beta floor.

"This is our beta room, for testers looking for bugs. We also encourage our employees to come up here for some relaxation after work. You know, see what it is they're working so hard for."

The man guided him by the back into an office where sat the man from the car.

"I'm Edwin Murdock, CEO and founder of Murdock Inc."

Jeremy nodded. He knew who Edwin Murdock was. Who didn't? Though he was still a little surprised that he was at a hiring meeting.

"This is my personal assistant, Timothy. You've met."

Jeremy nodded again. This was all just too surreal, and his mind hadn't caught up.

Edwin sat on the edge of his desk and tapped his finger on his chin.

"We've got a little problem here, Jeremy. A bug in our game, you could say."

Murdock and Timothy exchanged a significant glance. Murdock nodded and Timothy produced a sheet of paper out of his jacket.

"This is a non-disclosure agreement. Before we can go any further we'll need you to sign."

Jeremy gave it the once over and signed his name. Now he HAD to know what was happening.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, folding his arms. If they were this desperate, it meant they needed him. For the first time in a long time he had the upper hand.

"Well," Murdock said, exchanging another glance with Timothy. "People are dying in our game, Mr. Miller. We want you to fix it."