Page 18 of Stalker

The three Blackwell brothers had decided within a week after reconciling close to two decades apart that no one would learn our backstories. That was too dangerous for our continued freedom.

But Christopher was no fool. I’d sensed a long time ago he suspected our dark humor was more of a retelling of our past deeds, so many of them heinous in nature.

We did enjoy ridding the world of snakes and cockroaches, but living in the lap of luxury did have its benefits. The enjoyment of our lifestyle usually kept us from delving too far into the darkness.

There should be something very satisfying about owning the most profitable gaming company in the world. Our stock had soared and remained high after the release of Dark Nights, our most popular game to date. We’d followed it up with an even more sexual sister game titled Seductive Nights only three months before.

The games were highly interactive, exceptionally realistic, and overtly sexual and violent in nature. Our claim to fame. They’d been the fallout of our brutal foster upbringings, providing a lucrative manner to rid ourselves of the savage demons still living inside the three of us. It allowed us to remain free men since we weren’t out actively slaughtering people.

I chuckled inwardly from the thought. Not that we hadn’t been forced to ‘handle’ an enemy or two over the years with our preferred methods. But we’d tried to become better citizens over the last five years.

Now we were even involved in charities.

“In all seriousness, don’t talk to the press,” Christopher warned. “At least allow me to see if the Clown Monster’s father is really going to sue.”

“The clown monster?” Zach repeated.

Our attorney nodded as he laughed. “Yep. The name he was given in the press. I don’t think the kid likes it very much. Not aggressive enough. Evidently, he’s carried out the rape, torture, and murder of several women over the last two years. This is the only time the police got close. Thanks to our hero.”

I shifted my gaze from Zach to Xander. We weren’t triplets yet we had an uncanny ability to read each other’s minds and know if one another was in danger.

We all had the same penchant for violence given our upbringings. However, they didn’t need to remind me that prudence was in order. We had too much at stake and over the years had had targets placed on our backs more than once.

The three of us remained quiet and Christopher finally headed toward the bar. “You guys are way too dark for me.”

“Speaking of dark,” Zach said as he laughed. “We agreed on a hunt to start the festivities.”

A hunt.

Two magical words to the three of us. To some, a hunt was terrifying. We’d cornered the market in depraved elements, both in our virtual reality games and in the contest held in real time and real life.

Hunting human prey was merely a part of an illustrious contest, one the four of us coveted, but had learned to be careful indulging in. We all had too much at stake.

The risk to safety and sanity was high. But so were the rewards.

I was already salivating from the thought. It had been too damn long.

Rewards also extended to the winner of the almost yearly event.

“Before we agree to this, I’m going to pitch an idea I’d like the three of you to consider,” Christopher said as he brought his gin and tonic back to his perch.

“You know Chris and his ideas,” Zach teased.

I leaned back in my seat, swiveling it from side to side. “Out with it.”

Christopher gave me a hard look. “The last contest, we had enough bogus applications it took me days to weed through them. Why not at least have a shorter questionnaire? I honestly think we can toss out over fifty percent immediately. That way we don’t waste time and resources on a formal application process unless there’s a better than fifty percent chance the applicant has what it takes to compete.”

We’d turned the initial darkness into a more official corporate game. I think that’s why it hadn’t appealed to me in the last few years. Why bother if it was going to be completely orchestrated? I longed for the first few years after forming the Obsidian Society when there had been few formal rules to follow. Players could hunt, capture, tease, stalk, and fuck the contestant they desired. As long as we had a formal agreement and a nondisclosure agreement from the players, most rules of decency didn’t apply.

But when you had an attorney on your board, things were different.

“What are we talking about? Another fucking mailing like we’re some scammer?” After the incident the day before, I’d yet to get the taste of blood from my mouth and was cranky as fuck.

“Why not allow one of the social media platforms you seem to hate with a passion to do the work?”

“What do you have in mind?” Xander asked him.

“We pop out a new Instagram account with a few slides. They head to our website if interested to answer so it’s still all confidential. One of you brilliant assholes can even set up an algorithm with preferred answers. Those with eighty percent affinity move into an initial approved pile. You can pick the numbers. I really don’t care. Maybe the players will find their perfect better half and we secure a possible new board member since the seat has been vacant for well over a year.”

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