Rockstar HQ, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean:
A sweaty Rod Edge runs through the office, heart pounding.
"Why now, why now!?" Rod thought, as he ran by a desk where a group of programmers were reskinning another super car to put on GTA Online for a cash amount equal to a Saudi Prince's Jet fuel spending.
"He is gonna be pissed." Rod kept sprinting, out of breath almost. "I told him time and time again, we have deadlines to meet." His destination up ahead. Dry blood stains the old carpet in front of the door, and a giant sign scribbled in sharpie reads "do nat facking enter"
He barges into Dan Housers office and finds him face down in a pile of coke and a pile of game award trophies littering the ground. Piles and stacks of cash rivaling Aztec temples in height surround his desk. The giant banner of the Rockstar logo hangs behind him, drawing eerie parallels of a Nazi rally.
"Oh no... not again" Rod thinks as he sees the scene before him.
"Daniel we've got sh*t news" yells Rod, barely being able to make out the words from his lack of breath.
Slowly and groggily Dan Houser raises his head from the mountain of Colombian cut powder on his desk.
"Oy.. you facking Ronald, the fook you doin, I told you not to disturb me during my breakfast" ask Dan as he raises his hands, rubbing his eyes. Little chunks of cocaine particles start falling from his face.
Rod gulps. "Well you see sir, T2 just called, it was head office on the line, they've been getting concerned"
"Oy... bout what?"
"Red Dead 2"
"Oy which one that again Reg? The one wit the james bond looking f*ck in the 70s?"
"No thats agent, Red Dead is the cowboy one"
Dan stares at Rod for a couple of seconds before his shrunken sleep ridden and blood shot eyes light up.
"OY. That one, yes, yes." He scoops up a wad of coke with his finger and starts nibbling at it. "What the fook they want Rob? I told them it'll be out by the end of de year."
Rod, uncomfortable and blinded from the suns rays coming through the window reflecting on Dan's shiny scalp, looks down at the floor.
"Well sir, thats the thing, they... they say they are quite angry you see... because its May and we haven't shown them anything ne-"
Daniel raises his clean hand, motioning to silent Rod.
"f*ck hes pissed" Rod anxiously thought.
"Rick..." said Dan softly, breaking the silence, "do you think, that I fooking care about if those suit wearing c*nts up at HQ haf to fooking say?"
Rod kept staring down, a rat running by with a human toe clenched in his teeth grabbed his attention.
"Well boy..." Dan answered for himself, sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking off the coke, "I don't. Look at this money, look at it." He exclaims, pointing his foot towards one of the ginormous piles. "Is this the money that take 2 earned?"
Rod quickly looks up and gazes among the mountain of bills.
"So much money" He thought. "So much... Blood Money. All this cash, but no one in the office get to touch it. No. Its all for him. For that bald f*ck and his greedy brother. All that money we made was still not enough. Team Bandi, Leslie, how many more will fall before that hairless devil will quench his thirst. Or will he die snorting it all up his nose?"Rod kept pondering and placing his anger, but said nothing.
"Oy..." answered Dan again, pulling his finger out of his mouth, the fat appendage covered in saliva sparkled similar to his forehead, "it was we who earned this. Without us take fooking two would be up sh*tes creek. Evolved? Dead. Mafia III? Double dead amigo. Battle-born? That f*ck Randy Pitchford couldn't program a Minecraft server, let alone one of them Overwatch clones." Dans voiced raised. "Nay, we are the ones who earn, and the ones who rule. NOT THEM! Look at the sales Rick, top selling game PS4, third best selling game of this fooking month, in the year of our lord 2017! So nay, I will not heel to some sheepskin lawman asking us to give them a game... that they did not earn."
Rod gulped, but remained silent, returning his eyes to the rat nibbling on the dismembered toe.
"So call them back," Dan cooly said, leaning back on his chair. "And tell em... it gets done by next year. Ya, sounds good to me. In the mean time, get the GTA team to start working on some more bullsh*te. Maybe weapon camos for 50 grand or some sh*te." Dan pulled an antique cavalry dagger from a desk drawer and started lining the coke with it.
Rod looked up, his anger built up, and in a brief moment of bravery shouted "But what about the gamers? They are pissed! They've waited 4 years for a new game and all we've given them is sh*tty add-ons to push shark cards, and one glorified tech demo we passed off as a trailer for the new game! Hell, most of them have turned to hackers anyway, because w'ere forcing all this expensive sh*t down their throats!"
Dans eyes darted up from the coke and locked eyes with Rod. His icy black stare penetrating Rod's soul. It was the same stare many programmers at Rockstar last saw before entering the eternal darkness of death.
"f*ck me" Rod panicked in his head, "I should not have said that."
"Rod..." Dan replied, unblinking, his grip on the knife tightening, "the fans can complain and bitch all they blood want. They can hack. They can downvote, they can fooking sign petitions. They can shoot the sh*t and hate on the forums... but I don' fooking care... because they will still buy the fooking game 3 fooking times anyway" Dan yelled as he slammed the knife down on the table. The rat dropped the toe and scurried away under a pile of broken photographs of Geoff Keighley.
A silence fell.
Dan let go off the knife, but it was dug in too deep to fall over. He looked down at the coke pile, visibly unsatisfied about how much was left.
"Oh and more thing boyo"
"Go find whatever the big modding tool is for GTA and take it down, if the players won't pay fairly, that they shan't play as they want. And we'll pin it on the suits down at HQ, the heat should be a little payback for getting smart with us."
Rod knew that the modding tool wasn't responsible for the money hacking, but he knew arguing would be useless and dangerous. Dan knew it as well, but Rod knew he didn't care. This was a show of force. A threat. A way of using the power he had.
Like the good worker he was, Rod nodded, turned around and left. He closed the door behind him.
"I'm lucky I'm irreplaceable," Rod thought, "If anyone else spoke back at him like that... they'd be sent on a 'church building' mission right away."
Rod walked away head down, crying on the inside, and reflecting on the good old days he so sorely missed.
Back in the office, Dan reclined back in his seat, picked up a gold plated phone, dialed in a number and placed it on speaker, and set it down on his belly as he looked up at the ceiling.
"Oy... what the fook you want." Boomed a voice from the phone.
Dan looked down and smiled. "Samuel brother, great news, we gotta delay the fooking cowboy game."
"Agent?" Said Samuel, loud club music echoing at the back of the call.
"Nay, Red Dead 2."
"Aye ok, well then I suppose I could always extend my vacation down here."
"Like you ain't do that anyhow?"
"ha ha fook you, you fat f*ck... AYE bitch slow down!"
A gunshot rings through the speaker.
"Sam?" Dan calls towards the microphone.
"Aye ye, don't worry, just another c*nt actin smart, trying to steal some of my blow."
"Story of my life brother... stay safe, Mum says hi... oh and bring back some of more of the good stuff." Responded Dan as he looked down at the coke pile.
"When should we talk about the game next then?" Asked Sam, music and screams echoing through the speaker still.
Dan looked back at the banner of the Rockstar logo behind him. "In a few weeks or so."
He pressed the 'end call' button, and fell asleep.