Two weeks later.
Devon Kellerman sat alone in his high-rise office, the city lights of Singapore casting reflections on the glass walls. The room was dim, save for the glow of his laptop screen. He sipped his espresso, eyes fixed on a YouTube video titled "Furious Birds Christmas Update Gameplay."
The video showcased the new snowy levels, festive hats on the birds, and candy cane obstacles. The comments section was ablaze:
"Best update ever!"
"Can't stop playing!"
"My kids love the new levels!"
He glanced at the analytics dashboard on his second monitor. The numbers were staggering.
Downloads: 9,876,432
Active Users: 7,543,210
The game had exploded in popularity overnight. Blogs, forums, and social media were flooded with mentions of Furious Birds. Influencers were streaming gameplay, and memes were circulating at lightning speed.
Devon leaned back, a frown forming on his face. He picked up his phone and dialed.
"Yes?" came the voice on the other end.
"It's Kellerman. We have a situation," Devon said, his tone clipped.
"Go on."
"Espector Studios declined our acquisition offer."
Silence.
"They're gaining traction rapidly. The Christmas update has propelled them to nearly ten million downloads. The game's virality is unprecedented."
"You assured us they'd accept."
"I underestimated their resolve."
A pause.
"This is unacceptable. We cannot allow an indie studio to disrupt the market. We need that IP."
Devon stayed silent, letting the weight of the words hang in the air.
The voice on the other end grew sharper. "Do you understand what this means, Kellerman? We've sunk resources into mobile dominance this quarter. Espector wasn't supposed to be a threat. They were supposed to be absorbed. Controlled. Repurposed."
"I know that," Devon replied carefully. "But their founder—James Pascual—he saw through it. He's… not like the others. He's sharp. Calm. Refused to blink even after I laid out the full offer."
"You went in soft."
"I was ordered to."
A heavy breath came through the line.
"Get on the next call. Boardroom. Now."
The line clicked dead.
Devon slowly lowered the phone, jaw clenched, and turned to his laptop. In one tab, the download counter ticked past 10,014,882. Furious Birds was still climbing. He shut the lid, grabbed his jacket, and headed to the top floor.
***
Titan Forge Interactive — Executive Floor
The boardroom's doors hissed open.
Inside, the top brass were already seated—twelve executives along a glass table, the skyline of Singapore casting hard reflections across their faces. The lights were low. A massive screen behind the table showed analytics of Furious Birds: installs, retention rate, daily active users, and an accelerating monetization curve.
Marcus Lang, the CEO, sat at the head of the table with a tight-lipped frown.
"Sit down, Devon."
He obeyed, taking a seat halfway down the table.
Elaine Chen, the Chief Strategy Officer, didn't wait. "Let me guess. Pascual wouldn't even negotiate?"
"He heard the offer. Reviewed the documents. He closed the folder and said no," Devon admitted.
Marcus didn't say anything at first. He simply leaned forward and tapped the screen behind him.
The image shifted to a chart: Titan Forge's flagship mobile game, WarCore Tactics, in slow decline.
Then Furious Birds—its curve cutting upward like a rocket.
"This… is why we don't underestimate nobodies," Marcus said coldly.
"He isn't a nobody," Devon cut in. "He's calculated. Experienced. Probably from a different background than he claims. He knew exactly what to look for in that contract."
"So now we're dealing with an indie studio that's behaving like a damn veteran publisher," Elaine muttered.
"Worse," Marcus added. "They're independent, agile, and not publicly traded. No shareholders to please. They're free to move fast. And they're winning."
Another executive—Ravi Malik, Head of Monetization—interjected, "We underestimated the cultural impact. They've built characters, memes, community engagement. Kids know their raccoons better than our WarCore heroes."
"We could crush them with ads," someone muttered from the end of the table.
Marcus didn't bother responding. He was staring at Devon.
"You failed to deliver," Marcus said quietly, but every word hit like a hammer.
Devon stayed calm. "Give me another play. We'll find another angle."
"We don't have time for another soft angle."
Elaine nodded. "Espector is trending in every region. If they cross fifteen million by next month, it won't just be about one game anymore. It'll be about brand loyalty. If they launch a third title and it sticks, we've got a rival ecosystem forming."
"And their audience trusts them," Ravi said grimly. "We push ads, we get heat. They drop updates, they get praise."
Marcus stood, pacing slowly toward the window. "Then we make sure they don't reach fifteen million. Not alone."
The room went quiet.
"What are you suggesting?" Elaine asked.
Marcus turned back to the table, face cold.
"A hostile play. If acquisition fails, we devalue. We flood the market with imitations, outbid them on ad space, and buy out their suppliers. App store SEO, paid influencers, clone mechanics. Everything."
"They'll notice," Devon said.
"They can scream all they want. But by the time they figure it out, we'll have three bootleg versions in the top charts choking their reach."
"It's risky," Elaine said. "Could spark backlash, and cost us a lot of money!"
Marcus didn't blink. "Losing the mobile space to an indie studio will cost us more."
Ravi leaned forward. "And what if the clones don't catch on?"
"They will," Marcus said flatly. "We'll frontload downloads with bot traffic to push them into the top charts. Once they're visible, people will click. Then we start the smear campaign—'Is Furious Birds stealing ideas from Raccoon Rampage?' or whatever name we slap on our version."
Devon interjected, "We'll need control of the narrative. Forums. Comment sections. Reddit. YouTube."
"Then buy it," Marcus snapped. "Buy views. Buy upvotes. Push narratives. This is war."
Elaine crossed her arms, uneasy. "And if they still rise? If they survive the smear?"
Marcus looked around the table, voice low and deliberate. "Then we do what we always do."
A long pause.
"We buy the people around them. We find weaknesses. Pressure points. Burn out their lead devs with offers, sabotage their backend if we must. At the end of the day, everyone breaks."
The room fell completely silent.
Ravi finally spoke, his voice quieter. "And what if Pascual doesn't?"
Marcus turned his back to the table, facing the night skyline of Singapore.
"Everyone has a breaking point. We just haven't found his yet."
He paused.
"But we will."
The board members nodded one by one, the atmosphere grim.
Devon closed his folder, jaw tight. He knew what the next steps would entail. And for the first time, he wasn't entirely sure if they'd win.
But orders were orders.
And Espector Studios was now more than a target.
It was a threat.
One that had to be silenced.
Before it became a giant.