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Chapter 271: Let’s Bounce
🕑 Added 2025-09-08 11:23:30 +0000 UTC“Yo, what’s the vibe?” Zoey Parker asked, stepping out of the bathroom.
Gus Harper was half-kneeling by the sofa, stuffing clothes into a storage box.
“Packing my gear,” Gus said, glancing up with a shrug. “You see it.”
“I’m not blind, dude,” Zoey shot back, rolling her eyes. “You heading out again? Where to this time?”
She pouted, looking salty. Gus had been slammed lately. After clowning Komina, he was scouting talent from Forest Valley. Then he dove into Peak Nation’s prep—an extreme sports game, first of its kind. They hadn’t had a chill Sunday outing in over a month. No park, no nothing.
With Peak Nation greenlit and in development, Zoey figured they’d finally hit the road for some fun. She’d scouted dope spots nearby, even made a travel guide. But now? Gus was packing again, and she was out of the loop.
Her shoulders slumped, her usual tabby-cat energy fading into sad-puppy vibes. She flopped onto the sofa, muttering, “Back to Tokyo?”
Tokyo was Gus’s talent goldmine. First trip, he snagged Sora Tanaka and Yuki Hasegawa. Second, Kazu Okura and Steel Chain Fingers. Third, Tetsuya Moritan. Keizo Kamijo at Komina must be cursing his stars. If he could rewind, Zoey bet he’d rethink hogging Silent Hill P.T. for profit. Taro Yamamoto’s meddling didn’t help—Komina’s a mess now, basically Gus’s recruitment playground.
“You going shopping for more talent?” Zoey asked. “How long?”
Gus thought for a sec. “Half a month, give or take.”
“Half a what?!” Zoey sprang up, jaw dropping like she could hang a ketchup bottle on it. “Might as well move WindyPeak to Tokyo!”
Two weeks? Their weekend plans were already two months behind. She mumbled, “We said Sundays were locked in. This week’s pushed, next week’s pushed… I haven’t had fun in forever…”
She curled up in the sofa’s corner, legs crossed, picking at her hands, radiating petty resentment.
Zip—
Gus zipped his suitcase, and silence hit the room. For thirty seconds, Zoey sighed internally. Chill, don’t be a vibe killer. Gus is grinding for the company. Even if it messes with my loss-making plan, he’s got good intentions…
She looked up—and froze. Gus was staring, a sly grin on his lips.
“What’s with the stare?” Zoey asked, shy under his gaze, tucking her feet in and biting her lip.
“Waiting for you to pack,” Gus said, leaning back on the carpet, arms crossed, eyeing her like a meme lord.
“Huh?” Zoey blinked, brain buffering. “Me? Pack?”
Gus smirked, nodding. “Yeah, or who’m I eloping with?”
Buzz!
Zoey’s head spun, cheeks flaming red like a ripe cherry. “I… you… what?!”
“Pack your bags,” Gus said, hauling his suitcase to the door. He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I’m taking you to elope.”
This guy! Zoey’s hands went numb. Eloping? Really? No one’s stopping them—why not just date like normal people?
She pointed at herself, then Gus, stammering like a glitched NPC. “Uh… heh… no need to elope, right? We’re good, like, out in the open…”
Her ears burned, and she scratched her head like a flustered fox.
Gus burst out laughing, waving it off. “Kidding, kidding. Go pack. We’re hitting Yosemite tomorrow, then Denali Base Camp, and after, we’re cruising east to the Grand Canyon.”
Peak Nation’s design was locked in: six main events—skiing, cycling, wingsuit flying, surfing, rock climbing, parachuting. Maps ranged from S to D by track difficulty. Players train, master stages, and unlock tougher runs. Five regular maps were built from iconic global landmarks.
But the real flex? Gus and Tetsuya Moritan split duties, roping in Victor Lang from IndieVibe and Ethan Camron from the Global Digital Entertainment Association. They tapped international connections, partnering with National Geographic to pick eight extreme locations for 100% real-world restoration. These became the “Peak Eight” challenges in Peak Nation:
Power Surge: Off-road ridge downhill in Moab, Utah.
Sky Birth: High-altitude parachuting at Denali, Alaska.
Earth Awakening: BASE jumping at Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico.
Sea Creatures: Surfing Mavericks, California.
Wind Rush: Wingsuit flying through Mount Rainier, Washington.
Ice Lock: Avalanche rappelling in the Sierra Nevada, California.
Fate Master: Free solo climbing at Yosemite Falls, California.
Ultimate Trust: Facing dive at Yosemite Falls, California.
Eight SSS-difficulty maps, $5 entry fee per challenge. Fail, and you’re locked out for a cooldown. Only Ultimate Trust requires completing Fate Master first; others are player’s choice. Fail any, and the challenge resets.
The $5 fee? WindyPeak keeps zero. It all feeds eight prize pools, growing until someone conquers the “Peak Eight” and claims the lot. Post-challenge, the maps join the public pool, and WindyPeak with National Geographic hunts new extreme locations for the next round.
A global adrenaline rush. A marketing stunt for the ages.
But wait—there’s more. With cash to burn, they planned six Peak Nation trailers: three domestic, three international. The first of each? Live-action, real people.
Gus’s trip was clear: Yosemite, Denali, Grand Canyon. He’d shoot on-site for game modeling and trailer clips. At the Grand Canyon, he’d film an 8-second night cycling race on Route 66 for the live-action trailer.
Others had their gigs: some to North America, others to South America, Europe. Everyone but Golden Experience and Max Wheeler’s ops team—stuck on PUBG and Apex Legends updates—was out filming Peak Eight locations and promos.
Gus kept it low-key with Zoey, just saying it was a work-play trip for Peak Nation’s shoots. Truth was, he wanted to treat her. He’d seen her disappointment every time he bailed on outings for project prep. Not this time.
Zoey’s eyes sparkled. “You… serious?”
A trip? Her and Gus? Yosemite to Denali to the Grand Canyon? Half a month?
“No faith in pinky promises?” Gus stood, offering his pinky.
Zoey stared for three seconds, then smack! She swatted his hand, leaped off the sofa, and tackled him. Her giddy squeals mixed with Gus’s amused groans filled the room.
“Let’s go! Adventure time! Wooo!” Zoey cheered.
“Alright, chill, you gremlin,” Gus laughed.
“Wooo! Road trip!” Zoey kept bouncing.
“I’m working here…”
Sunday, 8 a.m. Zoey was a chatterbox, greeting every neighbor in their Seattle complex, spinning their trip as a “business thing.”
“Hey, you dropping the kids off? I’m off to Yosemite… yeah, work stuff…”
“Little buddy’s getting cuter, huh? I’m just heading out for a job…”
Gus groaned internally. Someone take this human megaphone away! Dragging the suitcase, he hit the elevator, then the street, hailing an Uber. Zoey clung to his arm like he’d bolt, turning every neighbor chat into “business trip” flexes.
After the seventh neighbor, they escaped. Luggage in the trunk, they slid into the Uber.
“Airport,” Gus said.
Just him and Zoey for this U.S. trip. National Geographic staff and outsourced crews would meet them at each spot. Safer stateside, less need for a big entourage. Plus, Gus wanted some alone time with her.
Click. Doors shut. Zoey’s chilly hand grabbed his arm again.
Gus glanced at her red, frozen fingers, about to speak, but the driver cut in: “You folks traveling?”
Oh, come on! Gus’s heart sank. Just drive, man.
Sure enough, Zoey lit up. “Nah, haha, it’s a work thing, business trip, you know…”
Gus facepalmed. I’m done.
Click. Doors shut at the airport. Gus exhaled, relieved. Zoey was a talk tornado.
As he pulled the suitcase, Zoey’s cold hand grabbed his arm again. “Let go,” he said.
Zoey stiffened, biting her lip. “Oh…”
Before she could pocket her hand, Gus grabbed it, sliding it into his warm coat pocket. Her blush hit like a crit, warming her face.
“Let’s roll,” Gus said.
“Hell yeah!” Zoey grinned.
A month post-Sekiro, after clowning Komina and Tetsuya Moritan’s hyped hiring, WindyPeak went radio silent. No X posts from Gus or the company’s official account. Usually, they’d drop weekly updates—project teasers, work vibes, or Gus retweeting goofy mods. Now? Ten days of nothing. Even Tetsuya, Kazu Okura, and Jake Rivers were ghosts.
Rumors spread like wildfire on X:
“Yo, something’s off with WindyPeak. Why so quiet?”
“No posts in ages. What’s cooking?”
“They should’ve teased a new project by now…”
“Trouble in paradise? Tetsuya drama?”
“Maybe Komina’s ex-boss is stirring shit?”
“Nah, Tetsuya and Komina split clean, right? Why the beef?”
“That Komina post… I can feel Keizo Kamijo’s rage through my screen.”
“New project in the works, bet.”
“What’s so hush-hush?”
“Only Outlast and Sekiro were this secret. Both sniped Komina…”
“Oh snap, they’re gunning for Komina again!”
“@GusHarper, yo, DM me, you hitting Komina?”
“@GusHarper, don’t hog the tea, slide me a DM!”
Speculation exploded: WindyPeak’s prepping to dunk on Komina again. It reached Tokyo, landing on Keizo Kamijo’s desk.
Another round? WindyPeak’s silence screamed trouble.
“Mountains don’t move, but water flows! WindyPeak’s plotting, and Komina’s in the crosshairs!” screamed headlines.
Despite Komina’s quiet post-Torii: Phantom, Wild Dunk, and Hotspot Rally flops, WindyPeak’s silence felt ominous.
Boom, boom! Keizo’s temples throbbed as he skimmed the gossip. Not again.
He popped two heart pills, swallowing hard. WindyPeak gave him straight-up PTSD. Since Silent Hill P.T., their silence meant war—twice before, with To the Moon and Garden Warfare as cover.
This time? Total blackout. It spooked him more.
“Any new projects?” Keizo asked his assistant, voice tight.
“Nope,” the assistant said, shaking his head. “We’re swamped with PR damage control and stock crashes from Torii and the others. No time for new stuff.”
Keizo frowned, lips smacking. “Track WindyPeak’s moves. Slow and steady. Call a meeting—I need to brief everyone.”
The vibe was tense. Every tweet felt like a sniper scope. WindyPeak’s silence hung like a guillotine over Komina.
They’re not on vacation… are they?
“This beats a damn vacation!” Luke Bennett shouted, perched in a helicopter over Mexico’s jungle, sunglasses on, headphones blaring against the rotor roar.
Central Mexico’s emerald sea sprawled below, pierced by a dark chasm—Carlsbad Caverns.
“That’s one of the world’s wildest caves!” the National Geographic rep yelled. “In 2005, for a BBC doc, Arsène Schneider strapped on a camera and parachute, then yeeted into a 1,400-foot abyss. Survival odds? Ten percent, tops.”
Luke nodded, vibing with the madness. From the chopper, the cave’s mouth looked like a dime. Parachuting in? You’d need perfect timing or you’re a goner, no grave needed.
Click, click. Luke checked the remote imaging data and waved. “Let’s drop down and scope it!”
“Forget sliding,” Jake Rivers said, shivering in the Sierra Nevada. Decked in a ski jacket and anti-glare mask, he eyed the 70-degree snow slope stretching to a distant forest. “This is orthopedic central.”
The endless white peaks screamed danger. Anyone racing an avalanche here was signing their own exit ticket.
“Maybe when Peak Nation’s done, I’ll try it in-game,” Jake said, half-laughing. “For now? I’m taking the chopper down.”
“Straight-up suicide,” Tetsuya Moritan muttered, awestruck at Yosemite Falls, California. The jagged cliffs loomed, a silver waterfall roaring like a dragon, drowning out the helicopter.
Two Peak Nation challenges here: Fate Master (free solo climbing) and Ultimate Trust (facing dive). Nearly 3,000 feet of sheer drop—the world’s tallest waterfall.
Climb up or jump down? Either way, it’s a death wish. Surviving would be a middle finger to nature itself.
“This is a playground for lunatics reborn in fire,” Tetsuya said, shaking his head.
“It’s paradise, alright. I almost saw the pearly gates,” Gus groaned, sprawled at a Grand Canyon B&B with Zoey.
They’d been in high-altitude zones for over a week. Denali Base Camp was brutal—4,000-meter elevation hit Gus like a truck. He’d heard big-lunged folks catch altitude sickness worse, but damn, it was rough. Dizziness, nausea, suffocation. A hospital oxygen hit fixed him, but Zoey shut down his Denali filming plans, taking over herself.
“Thanks to you, I didn’t flop this mission,” Gus said, sipping hot chai on a bench as the sunset painted the canyon gold.
The Grand Canyon’s dreamy vibe and Nujiang-like river felt like a warm hug. Filming wrapped yesterday, but the chill atmosphere begged them to linger.
“You’re welcome,” Zoey teased, shaking her head. “How you thanking me?”
Gus raised an eyebrow. “Words not enough?”
“Lame!” Zoey bumped his shoulder. “Try harder.”
Gus chuckled. “Name your price.”
Zoey tapped her lips, then bolted. She returned with a beat-up guitar, shoving it into Gus’s hands. “I know you play. Sing me something.”
Gus blinked, taking the guitar. “I’m still recovering from altitude sickness!”
“We’re at 2,800 meters,” Zoey scoffed. “I’ll drag you to oxygen again—big tank this time.”
Gus groaned, plucking the strings. “Fine, princess. What’s the vibe today?”
Zoey sipped her chai, tilting her head. Then, with a sly grin, she showed her teeth. “Sing ‘Elope’.”
