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Chapter 69: Investigation
🕑 Added 2025-10-11 06:27:59 +0000 UTCOvernight, major social media platforms began scrubbing personal information about Alex Morrison and removing the most vicious attacks. News about the incident was buried in algorithms, unverified stories deleted, misleading content blocked entirely. The digital cleanup was swift and thorough, as if invisible hands were working to contain the damage.
But the core problem remained untouched. A teenager had crashed while allegedly imitating Fast and Furious, causing serious injuries. That narrative was set in stone. The Digital Entertainment Oversight Committee now had perfect justification to keep the game banned indefinitely, and no amount of social media management could change that fundamental fact.
In Stormwind Studios' main conference room, Nathan Pierce called an all-hands meeting. The atmosphere was somber, employees filing in with grim expressions.
"Everyone knows what's happened these past few days," Nathan began, his voice steady despite the exhaustion evident in his features. "I need you all to understand something critical: this situation cannot and will not affect our work. Alex has been the best boss any of us could ask for—fair wages, creative freedom, genuine respect for our contributions. He's taking unprecedented personal attacks right now, facing a level of hatred that would break most people."
The room was silent, employees nodding with determination. Many had been targets of online harassment themselves simply for working at Stormwind.
"As his team, we protect what he built. We keep developing, keep creating, keep pushing forward. When he returns—and he will return—we'll have something incredible waiting for him. We don't let the competition see weakness. We don't give them any opening. Every line of code you write, every asset you create, every bug you fix—it's all ammunition for when we fight back."
The employees dispersed with renewed focus, channeling their anger into productivity. If they couldn't fight the PR battle directly, they'd ensure the company emerged stronger than ever. The Tokyo expansion would be their statement—proof that Stormwind Studios couldn't be destroyed by lies and manipulation.
At an exclusive golf course outside the city, Marcus Morrison had orchestrated a full day of family activities. Golf in the morning, picnic lunch on the pristine grounds, theater tickets for the evening. Anything to help Alex escape the nightmare, even temporarily, and remind him that life contained more than digital mob justice.
"You used to love coming here as a kid," Marcus said, watching Alex line up a putt on the seventh hole. "About three years old, you were obsessed with filling the holes with grass clippings. The groundskeepers were not amused."
"I don't remember that," Alex chuckled, the first genuine smile in days. The fresh air and physical activity were helping, even if his mind kept drifting to darker thoughts.
"Danny was worse. He'd sneak off and pee in the holes when he thought no one was looking. Richard would chase him around with a nine-iron, screaming about course etiquette and threatening bodily harm."
"That explains why Uncle Richard still threatens Danny with golf clubs at every opportunity," Alex laughed, feeling tension ease fractionally. "Some traumas run deep."
"Indeed they do," Marcus agreed, though his expression suggested he wasn't just talking about golf course misbehavior.
Alex's phone buzzed. Jake's name on the screen made him tense immediately, but he answered.
"Alex, we found something major. That kid, Liu Chao? an chines american He's not some wealthy teenager with permissive parents. He's a seventeen-year-old apprentice mechanic. The car he crashed wasn't a family vehicle—it belonged to a customer at the repair shop where he works."
Alex stepped away from his family, lowering his voice. "Tell me everything."
"The accident itself is real—two people seriously injured. But Liu only had minor injuries, basically some bruises and a mild concussion. Nothing like the dramatic story being peddled. And here's the kicker—right after the accident, he vanished back to his hometown in rural Georgia."
"Let me guess—sudden influx of money?"
"Bingo. His parents are farmers, salt of the earth types, barely scraping by. But suddenly they're house shopping in town, talking about their son's 'success in the big city.' Neighbors think he hit the lottery."
"Brandon paid him off," Alex said flatly, the pieces clicking together. "Used a real accident, twisted the narrative, created the perfect weapon."
"Exactly. Kid was facing massive lawsuits, criminal charges for theft and reckless endangerment, potential bankruptcy for his family. Brandon swoops in, offers to make it all disappear plus a payday? Of course he'd take that deal."
"But proving it is another matter entirely," Alex mused, mind already working through possibilities. "As long as Liu sticks to the story about being influenced by our game, we're screwed. The truth doesn't matter if the lie is more convenient."
"That's the problem. He's got every incentive to keep quiet—money, avoided jail time, probably threats about what happens if he recants. How do we break that?"
Alex thought furiously, watching his father and Victoria practice their swings in the distance. "Jake, I might have an idea. What if we don't try to make him confess? What if we make him think the deal's falling apart?"
"I'm listening."
"Meet me at my place at three. Bring Danny. This needs all three of us."
That afternoon, the three friends huddled in Alex's home office, laptops open, legal pads covered in notes. The plan took shape through collective brainstorming—each contributing ideas, pointing out flaws, refining details.
"The kid's seventeen and desperate," Alex explained. "He took Brandon's deal because he had no choice. But what if he thinks Brandon's abandoning him? What if he believes he's about to take the fall alone?"
"Create doubt," Jake nodded. "Make him think Sterling's throwing him under the bus."
"More than that," Danny added. "Make him think he needs to protect himself by getting his story out first."
They refined the approach for hours, considering every angle, every possible failure point. By evening, they had their strategy.
The next morning, they flew to rural Georgia. Three young men in a rental car might draw attention in a small farming town, but they'd prepared for that. Baseball caps pulled low, cheap clothes from Walmart, tourist cover story about scouting investment properties. They'd even practiced Southern accents, though Danny's was hilariously bad.
Liu Chao wasn't hard to find. Small town, sudden wealth—everyone knew where the lucky kid was staying. The one decent hotel in town, living it up on Brandon Sterling's dime while his family prepared to upgrade their lives.
They surveilled him carefully for a full day, mapping his routine. Seventeen years old, barely five-foot-four, baby-faced enough to pass for fourteen. He spent his days touring properties with increasingly frustrated real estate agents who could sense something off about this teenage buyer with supposedly deep pockets. Ate alone at local restaurants, always the same three places. No friends visiting, no social life—just a lonely kid with guilty money.
After mapping his routine—predictable as clockwork—they initiated the plan.
The next day at noon, Liu entered his favorite noodle shop, a small family-run place with excellent hand-pulled noodles and prices that reminded him of home. Jake and Danny followed, taking the adjacent table. Alex entered last, choosing a corner booth with clear sightlines while remaining inconspicuous.
They ordered, made small talk about the weather and local real estate prices, then Jake spoke just loud enough to carry: "Danny, you hear about Fast and Furious? Crazy reversal yesterday!"
