Chapter 2: Corruption Spreads

The damaged copy of The Settlers sat on Leo's desk like an accusation. The pristine box now bore the telltale signs of careless handling—a crease along one corner, a smudge on the artwork that no amount of careful cleaning could remove. Worse still was the manual, where someone had scribbled crayon marks across three pages of carefully printed strategy guides.

"Maybe it's not that bad," Mike offered weakly, though his voice carried no conviction.

Leo turned the manual over in his hands, feeling sick. Two days had passed since Damian's "trade," and the Duke Nukem 3D beta had proven to be as worthless as the Quake disk—corrupted beyond recovery. But the damage to his prized game was permanent, irreversible.

"It's ruined," Leo said quietly. "Completely ruined."

"We could try to find another copy—"

"With what money?" Leo's voice cracked slightly. "Do you know how long it took me to save up for this? And even if I could afford another one, it wouldn't be this one. This was mint condition. Perfect."

Mike nodded grimly. They both understood the collector's mentality—it wasn't just about playing the games, it was about preserving them, cherishing them. Each perfect copy was irreplaceable.

A knock at the bedroom door interrupted Leo's brooding. His mother peeked in, looking unusually cheerful.

"Boys, Damian's here to see you!"

Leo and Mike exchanged glances. After the disaster with The Settlers, they'd both been hoping to avoid Damian indefinitely. But before they could object, the new kid appeared behind Leo's mother, flashing that same practiced smile.

"Hey guys!" Damian stepped into the room with casual confidence. "I've got some great news. Remember that German strategy game I mentioned? Kultur? Well, I finally got it working on my system, and it's absolutely incredible. Like nothing I've ever played before."

Leo's mother lingered in the doorway, clearly charmed by Damian's polished demeanor. "What a nice young man," she said. "Leo, you should invite him over more often."

After she left, Damian's expression shifted subtly. The practiced charm remained, but underneath it, Leo detected something else—a predator's patience.

"Look, I know you guys are probably disappointed about the beta disks," Damian said, settling into Leo's desk chair uninvited. "These things happen with rare software. But I want to make it right."

He pulled out a worn notebook and flipped through several pages covered in handwritten lists. "I've been cataloging my entire collection, and I think I've got some stuff that'll blow your minds."

Despite everything, Leo found himself leaning forward. The notebook was filled with game titles, many of which he'd never heard of. European releases, Japanese imports, development versions—if even half of it was real...

"Wing Commander: Privateer expansion pack that never got released," Damian read aloud. "Beta version of Civilization II with completely different tech trees. And..." He paused dramatically. "An early alpha of Command & Conquer when it was still called Command & Destroy."

Mike's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Westwood was going to go with a completely different name until focus groups shot it down. There are maybe ten copies of this alpha in existence."

Leo felt his resistance crumbling. The collector in him couldn't help but be intrigued, even knowing how the last trade had ended.

"What would you want for the Command & Conquer alpha?" he asked, hating himself for the question.

Damian's eyes swept Leo's collection, lingering on several boxes. "Doom II, maybe? And that copy of Monkey Island 2?"

"Both of them?" Mike protested. "For one disk?"

"Not just any disk," Damian countered smoothly. "This is gaming history we're talking about. Do you know what collectors would pay for an authentic Westwood alpha? We're talking thousands of dollars."

Leo looked at his copies of Doom II and Monkey Island 2. Both were originals, both in excellent condition. But the promise of owning a piece of gaming history...

"Can we see it first this time?" Leo asked.

"Absolutely. I'll bring it by tomorrow, along with a few other things. We can test everything on your system before we make any trades." Damian stood up, pausing at the door. "Oh, and Leo? I'm really sorry about what happened to The Settlers. Kids, you know? Sometimes they just don't understand how valuable this stuff is."

After Damian left, Mike turned to Leo with concern written across his face.

"Dude, you're not seriously thinking about trading with him again, are you?"

Leo stared at his damaged copy of The Settlers, then at his pristine copies of Doom II and Monkey Island 2. "What if he's telling the truth this time?"

"What if he's not?"

It was a fair question, one that Leo couldn't answer. But the lure of impossible games was too strong to resist entirely.

The next day brought more disappointment. Damian arrived with his usual box of plain diskettes, each one promising digital treasure. The Command & Conquer alpha loaded without error, displaying a crude splash screen with the alternate title. For a moment, Leo's heart soared.

Then the game crashed to DOS with a memory error.

"Hmm, that's weird," Damian said, frowning at the screen. "It was working fine yesterday. Maybe it's a system compatibility issue?"

They spent an hour trying different configurations, adjusting memory settings, even rebooting with a minimal DOS setup. Nothing worked. The game would start, show tantalizing glimpses of alternate history, then collapse into digital gibberish.

"Look, I know this is frustrating," Damian said as they gave up for the day. "But these alpha versions are notoriously unstable. Half the time, they barely work on the systems they were designed for, let alone modern hardware."

Modern hardware. Leo's 486 DX2-66 was hardly cutting-edge, but compared to whatever development systems Westwood had been using in 1993...

"Tell you what," Damian continued. "Why don't you let me borrow Doom II and Monkey Island for the weekend? I've got access to some different systems at home—older hardware that might handle these alphas better. I can test everything thoroughly, make sure it all works before we finalize the trade."

Every rational part of Leo's brain screamed warnings. But Damian's explanation made sense, and the promise of owning gaming history was intoxicating.

"I don't know..."

"Look, I get it. After what happened with The Settlers, you don't trust me. But I swear on my mother's grave, I'll take better care of these games than I do my own collection."

Mike shot Leo a warning look, but Leo was already reaching for the games. The collector's obsession had overridden his common sense.

"Just for the weekend?"

"Just for the weekend. Monday morning, we'll have everything sorted out."

Monday morning brought only excuses. Tuesday brought apologies. By Wednesday, Leo realized he'd been systematically conned.

The Monkey Island 2 box came back with a long crack down the spine. The Doom II manual was missing three pages. And the games Damian had promised in return? More corrupted diskettes, more elaborate explanations, more silver-tongued justifications for why nothing worked as advertised.

"This is insane," Mike said, staring at the damaged boxes. "He's destroyed half your collection."

But Damian wasn't finished. Each week brought new promises, new rare games, new opportunities to trade away pieces of Leo's digital legacy. And somehow, despite mounting evidence that he was being systematically robbed, Leo kept falling for it.

The psychological manipulation was subtle but effective. Damian would arrive with genuine enthusiasm, spinning tales of impossible finds and rare discoveries. He'd acknowledge past problems while simultaneously offering solutions. Most importantly, he never asked for everything at once—just one or two games per trade, keeping Leo's losses small enough to rationalize.

By October, Leo's pristine collection had been reduced to a shadow of its former glory. Boxes were creased, manuals were damaged or missing, and several games had disappeared entirely under the pretense of "extended testing."

But the final insult came during lunch period on a dreary Thursday afternoon.

Leo was sitting with Mike in their usual corner of the cafeteria, picking at a sad approximation of pizza, when Damian's voice carried across the room. He was holding court at one of the popular tables, regaling a group of athletes with some story that had them laughing uproariously.

"...so this kid comes up to me with his little Queen poster and his computer games," Damian was saying, his voice pitched just loud enough to carry. "Starts going on and on about how Freddie Mercury was some kind of musical genius. I mean, seriously? The guy was a total gay weirdo. What kind of loser idolizes someone like that?"

Leo's blood turned to ice water. The cafeteria seemed to tilt around him as Damian's words sank in.

"And don't even get me started on his gaming collection," Damian continued. "All these 'rare' games that are probably worth about fifty cents at a garage sale. But he treats them like they're made of gold or something. It's honestly kind of pathetic."

The laughter from the popular table felt like knives. Leo saw several people glance in his direction, their expressions ranging from amusement to pity.

Mike's hand landed on Leo's shoulder. "Don't listen to him, man. He's just showing off."

But Leo couldn't unhear what he'd just witnessed. All those weeks of "friendly" trades, all those conversations about shared interests and mutual respect—it had all been an act. Damian saw him as nothing more than an easy mark, a pathetic loser to be mocked and exploited.

The worst part was the casual cruelty of it. Damian wasn't just stealing Leo's games—he was destroying something deeper. The safe space Leo had built around his passions, the identity he'd carefully constructed, the heroes who'd given him strength when the world felt hostile and unwelcoming.

"Leo?" Mike's voice seemed to come from very far away. "You okay?"

Leo looked down at his hands, surprised to find them shaking. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm going to destroy him."

Mike blinked. "What?"

Leo raised his head, and Mike took an involuntary step back. He'd never seen that expression on his best friend's face before—cold, calculating, absolutely certain.

"I'm going to destroy him," Leo repeated, louder this time. "Completely."

Across the cafeteria, Damian continued his performance, oblivious to the fury he'd just unleashed. He'd made a crucial error in judgment, mistaking Leo's quiet nature for weakness.

He was about to learn the difference between the two.

As the lunch bell rang and students began filing out of the cafeteria, Leo remained seated, his mind already racing with possibilities. Somewhere in the intersection of technology, psychology, and perfect timing, there had to be a way to turn Damian's own weapons against him.

The game was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning.