text: Wesley and Jackson’s friendship was born from the depths of competition. While Wesley was far more competitive, Jackson was a natural born winner. Jackson’s ability came with confidence along with a sizeable helping of ego. Wesley was a hard worker but a devout overthinker. They were simply made for one another. Alongside their studies in college, they played board games, video games, pick up games, and made money on the side through under the table poker games in the dorms. Furthermore, their competitive tendencies were backed by talent. In their last year at Cal, Jackson and Wesley decided to delve into something far more serious than any game - a prank war. Of course there was no good ending to what was being started. It was *war* after all. The only real way either could have won was by ruining the other's life. \~ ‘Honey.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘You remember Wesley?’ ‘God, talk about a name I haven’t heard in years.’ ‘Well.’ Jackson took a sip of his coffee. ‘I just got an email from him this morning.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yes. And I have yet to open it.’ ‘Hopefully it has some answers to how he’s been.’ Jackson’s eyes locked onto a notification reading *email from \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_*. It stuck out like a fly Jackson had graduated ten years ago, and being a Berkeley Law graduate he lived comfortably. He looked beyond his laptop screen at his own reflection in the glass wall of his home. Beyond his reflection he saw it all. The water, the bridges, the city, a regatta speckling the bay. He clicked the notification. Dear Jackson, Bet you haven’t thought about me in a long time huh? I know I kinda *fell off the map* but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about old friends, especially you. I know you’re also probably asking yourself *why is Wesley contacting me?* All will be explained. I didn’t have a lot of friends in college. You knew that. I’ve been working on something for the past few years and I couldn’t stop thinking of you during its final days of construction. I want you to try my escape room. I know you’ve heard of them. Hell, is there really a game out there that we haven’t played? I’ve been waiting to open it publicly for the past few months but something still needs to happen. *You* need to have the first go at it. So yes - this is me inviting you to New Mexico to play a game. Oh yeah, I live in New Mexico now. Let me know if you can make it down here one of these weekends. \- Wesley. \~ Their “war” kicked off innocently, garnering attention from classmates and friends. Pranks consisted of genius plots with satisfying payouts. Their early pranks acted as training. The year went on and the pranks got worse, but they never caused any serious emotional or physical harm. Whatever the case was, it didn’t matter, because Jackson always won. \~ ‘Well you’re not going right?’ ‘Well, I’m thinking about it.’ ‘Jackson.’ ‘What?’ ‘Are you fucking serious?’ ‘About going?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I mean, he is - well was my best friend. I dunno, I feel like I owe it to him. Never really got the chance to apologize.’ ‘It’s weird though - him coming out of nowhere like this.’ ‘Yeah, and it makes it *that* more intriguing.’ Jackson shrugged. ‘You’re a real piece of fucking work.’ Jackson’s wife left the kitchen again. His presence was occasionally unbearable, especially for his wife. He shortly followed up with an email saying that he'd love to make it but couldn’t find any cheap flights to Albuquerque that month, and that he didn’t want to *hold up the show* by keeping Wesley waiting. Thirty minutes later Jackson received an email from Wesley about potential dates he would be able to fly him out. \~ Never had any of their competitive endeavors lasted more than a few weeks, let alone months, until Jackson’s subconscious barriers crumbled due to the reckless and volatile inclination to win. Jackson’s inspiration spawned from his *Intro to Politics and Current Media* course in which he had just read an article on deepfake; a technique in which artificial intelligence superimposes images onto a video to present something that did not occur. Jackson spent the next two nights using an online service which superimposed images of Wesley’s girlfriend onto one of the millions of generic sex tapes online. His girlfriend’s Facebook provided a crammed vault of photos and video to digitally replicate her facial structure, features, imperfections and capture the once innocent tone and sound of her voice. After the service finished rendering the video, Jackson asked one of his fraternity friends to personally invite Wesley’s girlfriend to an upcoming formal. \~ The plane touched the ground and Jackson didn’t look normal, because what he was doing was far from normal. He walked through the terminals and consciously made an effort to not look visibly disgusted by the faux adobe walls and midwestern theme of every single thing surrounding him. His plan followed - staying the night at Wesley’s, completing the escape room the next day, and flying back home later in the afternoon. It was short, but he knew he’d still have to endure speaking with Wesley before he played the room and beat it. No one else could complete the room before him. He saw Wesley standing outside the arrivals gate and moments later was engulfed in a bear hug. Jackson had to process the moment, but figured returning the hug was the only way out. ‘I’m so glad you could make it, how was the flight?’ ‘Not bad, good ol’ melatonin knocked me out.’ ‘Good to hear. Hey, let’s get going and catch up in the car. Every time I see this place I wanna throw up.’ Jackson and Wesley smiled at each other. The drive to Santa Fe was long. Jackson had landed a few hours before sunset, allowing the sun played its part in maximizing the beauty of Wesley’s home. Orange rays shot through the glass walls which made up the majority of the house and the adobe walls surrounding the compound bounced a warm glowing light. Cacti and other desert plants surrounded the driveway and perimeter of the home, all of which was complemented by modern sculptures and a section of Roman statues leading to the front door. They spent the night drinking and touring the home. Wesley had taken after his parents and delved into the stock market eventually landing himself in the profession of an art collector. His major in computer science was left behind. Wesley gave a guided tour of his home and of the sculpture garden in the backyard. It was as if nothing had changed. They talked about a multitude of things while dancing around the subject of the escape room and what happened years ago. However, Wesley and Jackson couldn’t dance forever. A stint of silence couldn’t have been a louder beginning to their inevitable conversation. ‘Jackson, I know you’ve probably been trying to avoid this, but I just wanted to say it now. Whatever you think was your fault - wasn’t.’ Jackson focused his attention on a sculpture of a naked woman outside. He couldn’t avoid the talk but he could avoid eye contact. ‘I was in a very bad state at the time - frankly, I just wanted to move on, so I used your - *prank*, as an excuse. I figured if I just dropped out without having some motive, then people wouldn’t be able to leave me alone, ya know? They’d ask me questions, tell me to come back, that sort of thing.’ Jackson couldn’t avoid this however. He turned and looked at Wesley. ‘I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time, Jackson. If anyone ever thought less of you for what you did I’m sorry. It didn’t affect me at all.’ Jackson stared through Wesley, unable to process his thoughts, let alone formulate a sentence. Wesley got up and patted Jackson on the shoulder and left him in the living room. Jackson had a hard time sleeping that night. It didn’t help that he was drunk. \~ The day after the formal, Jackson uploaded the video and waited till the evening to text Wesley. Hey Wesley I think Anna cheated on you last night... Jesse you know ? Our friend in KA ? Well he texted me a link to a video this morning. I really hate to be the one telling you this, but no one else had the balls to say something. I’ll send the link but I think it would be wise to talk to Anna about what happened if you end up deciding to watch it. Wesley watched the video first thing and jumped to any and every conclusion about what he saw. He went berserk, broke up with his girlfriend, moved out, dropped out of college, and fell off the map - because not once in his life had Wesley been betrayed. Jackson had dug a hole into the core of his best friend’s insecurities. \~ ‘Morning buddy.’ Wesley was making coffee and breakfast while the beauty of his glass home was resurrected by the warm light that flooded in. Jackson woke up, hungover. ‘I should’ve woken you up earlier because we have to head out pretty soon.’ ‘Oh. No problem. Where is the room anyways?’ ‘It’s out on this rez a few hours away, it’ll only take about forty five minutes to finish so we’ll get back well before your flight heads out.’ ‘A rez?’ ‘Yeah, one of those Native American reservations, they let me and helped me build it out there for a lot cheaper. No building permits, contracts, taxes, *nothing*.’ ‘Well that’s convenient.’ \~ Wesley slept on the ride to the escape room. When he woke up he had no idea where they were or how long they had been driving for. Jackson didn’t ponder that fact for too long as he became fixated on the two story rectangular, concrete building in front of their car. It was windowless with a vault door leading into the first floor and a staircase leading up to the second. There was no road leading to the building or even a structure on the horizon. The building was a monolith of the desert. Wesley admired the building for a few moments with a smug look. Jackson looked at him and the building in confusion. Escape rooms usually had a theme, and *Battleship’s* theme seemed to be an above ground fallout shelter. ‘*Battleship* - huh?’ ‘That’s the name*.* Remember when Battleship became our escape from Settlers of -’ ‘I do, yeah.’ ‘Well I thought I’d give a little homage to those days.’ Wesley got out of the car and Jackson followed. They walked to the front door and were cascaded by the shade falling from the building. Jackson couldn’t see anything through the porthole in the door. ‘The actual escape room is on the first floor. I’ll be monitoring from the second. I doubt you’ll need any help though.’ Wesley handed him a blindfold and a plastic band. ‘Put these on and I’ll lead you in. After you hear a short alarm you can take your blindfold off and get started. You excited?’ ‘Oh yeah. Just a little anxious.’ ‘You have nothing to be anxious about. You’ll probably get it in no time with your luck.’ Jackson was going along with anything at this point, which was exactly how he ended up in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico with a friend whose life he thought he ruined. Jackson donned the blindfold. Wesley guided him into the pitch black room, let go, and walked back to the front door. ‘Jackson.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘I never forgot about what you did to me.’ Wesley closed the door behind him and the sounds of hydraulics pierced through the air and his footsteps reverberated when he walked up the stairway to the second floor. Jackson heard the hydraulics again as Wesley closed the second story door. Jackson hadn’t thought about the plastic band until he felt it tighten on his wrist. The alarm then sounded at an earsplitting level. Jackson tore off his blindfold, the alarm stopped, and the room was now completely lit. A checkerboard print of black and white squares, big enough to stand on, covered and lit the entirety of the room. He reached into his pocket for his phone and looked around. The phone was lost and the door was covered - mixed in somewhere with the tiles. Across the room from Jackson was a tablet with a flashing white screen. He walked over and picked it up. A video began to play. ‘Welcome to Battleship. Much like the original game, the rules aren’t too different. You will use this tablet to choose where to strike. If you get a hit, the squares to choose will change. You will start off by selecting positions on the floor. Once you or your opponent is hit by a floor strike you will then select positions on the wall. Once and if you get a wall strike then you will then select positions from the ceiling. You are allowed to change positions after your opponent’s attempts to strike. Do not move after you have chosen a position when it is your opponent's turn to strike. You will have fifteen seconds to move and select a position, and fifteen seconds to select where to strike. The first one strike the other opponent three times wins. Select heads or tails on the screen.’ Jackson had many questions and no way to answer them. Both the coin flip and the room stood as games of complete chance. He chose heads, and heads it was. The screen transitioned to the dimensions and pattern of the floor beneath him. A timer appeared at the top of the screen and began counting down. He selected a square at random and waited for another fifteen. The square on the screen flashed red and it was a miss. The countdown began again on his screen and Jackson moved to a square while taking some time to observe his surroundings. Small indentations covered every square in the room. Fifteen seconds passed and a square in the corner of the room flashed red. The room spoke. ‘Miss.’ The back and forth went on for awhile. The room was flashing with red squares and announcing *miss*. The game showed no indication of ending anytime soon. Jackson attempted to play smarter, striking more on one side of the floor to possibly drive his *opponent* to the other side. He played that strategy for a while and finally made a move. Jackson selected a spot at the opposite corner on the tablet. After the timer finished he instantly heard screams from above him. The square he selected flashed a bright green on the screen and the room announced ‘hit’. Jackson ran under the exact spot where he heard Wesley’s screams. Jackson cried out for him and as he cried out towards the ceiling he could see a reflection of green on the white tile above him. Before he had the time to look down, spikes ejected through the indentations beneath him for a split second and retracted back into the tile. One opened the side of his left leg, slicing through tough muscles and tendons, while another pierced through his heel and between the bones of his right leg. The other spikes inverted and severed a few toes. He was razed to the ground and splashed into a pool of blood and torn flesh. Lying flat on his back he saw the tablet across the room. Despite the trauma, he remembered the rules well and knew he had to make a choice within seconds. He dragged himself across the room and hastily selected a tile. It was a miss. The experience of fatal injuries made time feel shorter and for Jackson, time was genuinely of the essence. The tablet transitioned to a select number of squares. A square across the room on the bottom layer of the wall turned red. Whatever was next would come from the walls. The game would progress faster and the chance of getting hit was much higher. Again he hastily made a selection and then slid to a far corner of the room. His blood acted as a convenient lubricant. He missed. At the end of fifteen seconds Jackson attempted to sit up, and failed. He let out a small scream and fell to the floor. A square at the other end of the room flashed red. ‘Miss.’ Jackson made a selection on the tablet and slid across the room again until the friction of the dry floor stopped him. Another miss. Wesley would either choose a spot to hit in his old or new position. Towards the end of fifteen seconds Wesley had chosen an opposite position. A tile to Jackson’s left turned green and an object flew through his torn calf. It wasn’t nearly as agonizing as the spike through his heel but he still couldn’t help from releasing a whimper that came out more like a suppressed shriek. He was losing more blood and chose to remain where he was. He could only hope Wesley would think he moved like he did last time. Jackson made another random selection and at the end of fifteen seconds he heard a scream that would have been deafening if it weren’t for the ceiling between them. Jackson had gotten a wall strike. The timer was counting down again, Jackson stayed put, and Wesley’s shrieking continued. Ponds of blood were a reminder that moving would be just as deadly as settling in one place. A tile directly next to the one above him flashed red. Wesley’s howls were relentless, despite the fact that they were nearly muted. It was obvious where they were coming from. Time was beginning to move slower. Jackson took the lapse in reality to cry. The timer was ticking and he closed his eyes. Jackson pressed the tile on screen where the weaning screams emitted from. The timer ended and a bang rang through the room followed by a swift thud. Hydraulics sounded and three tiles fell from the wall behind him, splashing into a pool of blood. The door opened and the sun was setting. Jackson had won.