Page 141 of Stream Heat
There wasn’t anybody waiting outside, just a massive shipping box with a VortexTech logo blazing across the side. I knew it at a glance, it was the company that dumped me after my heat crash. Slightly surreal that they were back, but I dragged the package in anyway, opened it on the kitchen table.
Inside, there was a custom streaming rig, all clearly tailored for Omega sensory needs. There was even a note:
Ms. Quinn,
We made a mistake in our hasty termination of our partnership. Your recent authenticity has inspired us to develop a new line of designation-adaptive gaming equipment, and we would be honored if you would consider being the face of this initiative.
This prototype was developed in consultation with medical experts specializing in designation-specific sensory processing. We hope it might help address some of the challenges you’ve spoken about regarding your streaming experience post-suppressants.
Please consider this a small first step in making amends for our shortsighted decision.
Sincerely,
VortexTech Gaming
I reread it, lips pressed tight. Part of me wanted to laugh, part of me wanted to scream. The thing that made them drop me was now the whole basis for a “new initiative.” Figures.
Engines rumbled up the driveway, ripping my attention away from the gear. Three cars pulled in, not subtle, not even a little. I watched through the front window as my Alphas tumbled out, arms full. Boxes, bags, flowers, takeout containers. It was a parade.
Reid spotted me and gestured to hold back, like he thought I’d ruin the surprise if I came out early. I obeyed. This was their game, and I was just along for the ride.
They filed inside, one after another. Reid was carrying restaurant takeout and looking like he expected a fight at any moment. Theo had a rainbow of assorted gift bags. Jace was balancing a stack of crisp, perfectly-wrapped boxes. Ash lumbered in with electronics. Malik last, steady as always, held flowers and what looked like a small stack of legal folders.
I stared. “What is all this?”
“Celebration supplies,” Theo announced, bouncing straight over to the table. “For your official ‘No More Hiding’ party!”
“My what?” I laughed, but it came out a little strangled.
“We saw what’s happening online,” Reid said, setting everything down and coming to stand close, practiced calm hiding an edge of pride. “How the claiming incident has gone viral, how other Omegas are finding courage in your story.”
“And we thought it deserved a proper celebration,” Malik added, handing me the flowers. He always picked calming ones, the kind that didn’t overwhelm the nose.
“But that’s not all!” Theo was practically vibrating. He elbowed Ash, who dropped a pile of what I now recognized as pro-grade streaming gear on the chair. “Show her, Ash!”
Ash’s voice was low and matter-of-fact. “We’ve been meeting with legal teams all morning. Building a case against Nexus Management and Victoria Smith.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“That call we recorded,” Reid reminded me. “When Victoria offered you illegal suppressants, even knowing what they did to you. Direct evidence. Not just your word against hers.”
Jace shifted forward, placing a hand on the back of the couch. “Combined with your medical records and what other creators have come forward to share, there’s enough for an investigation.”
Malik flipped one of the folders open. “Three designation rights organizations want to sponsor the case. If it goes forward, it could change the way creators are protected. Set precedent.”
I dropped onto the couch. My legs wouldn’t hold me. “You’ve been working on this all day?”
“And fielding sponsorship offers,” Theo piped up, already rummaging through his haul. “You would not believe the emails. Apparently ‘authentic Omega representation in gaming’ is the new hot thing.”
Reid crouched next to me. “What happened on that stream? It’s not just big for us. It’s a shift. The old story is dead. The new one is yours to shape, Quinn.”
“And we wanted you to have all the options,” Malik said, practical and a little gentler than necessary.
I looked around at the five of them, each bringing something different to the table, like always. “Options?”
Reid nodded. “For the first time, you’re not choosing between survival and success. The platform wants you ontheir policy board. Sponsors want you. Legal teams want your testimony. Or you can tell them all to get lost and just stream.”
Theo grinned. “That’s the best part of having options. You get to say no, too.”
