Chapter 284: Tough Trip, Big Win—New Year’s Collab Vibes

“Interview crushed it, huh? In the papers at your age—my old pals can’t stop buzzing about you…”

“No wild stuff, just kept it chill. Gotta watch what I say, or it won’t even make the cut…”

“They’d edit that out anyway. Plus, you’re right here…”

“Lmao, you’re sneakier than me, for real…”

“Oh, by the way, speaking of press, I’ve got something to ask you today…”

It was the weekend again, and Gus Harper and Zoey Parker were kicking it with Walter Parker for their usual dinner.

With the Peak Eight challenges from Peak Nation now part of the regular map pool, Steel Chain Fingers was already scouting spots for the next round. Meanwhile, the Golden Experience team was full throttle on Overwatch after Gus dropped the game plan.

For Jonah York’s crew, Overwatch was a breeze. Veterans of shooters like Left 4 Dead ($10.85M budget), PUBG ($50M), and Titanfall ($170M), they could craft a banger blindfolded, even if it ditched their signature second-gen FPS mechanics for old-school crosshairs. Their work on Apex Legends ($50M) and Plants vs. Zombies: Garden Warfare (7M copies sold, Chapter 278) gave them the chops for skill-based shooters and unique modes. With Gus’s tight plan, they were set to recreate the 2016 summer magic.

With everything locked in, Gus finally had time to swing by Walter’s for tea, chess, and chats.

Back when WindyPeak was just one studio, pre-global takeover, Gus showed up weekly. Now, running a mid-sized beast, it was more like every two weeks.

Funny thing—less time together made Gus and Walter tighter. From stiff handshakes to chill vibes, Gus now played chess cross-legged, feeling a warmth he hadn’t known before. Walter went from Shen Capital’s untouchable titan to “Comrade Walter” in Gus’s head.

“Checkmate!”

Pop. Gus’s red chariot slid in, cracking Walter’s defense.

Walter blinked, missing the sneak attack entirely. “…You little sneak…”

He reached for the board, teacup down.

“Yo, Uncle!” Gus guarded his chariot. “Talk it out, no touching!”

Walter had pulled the “regret move” card before—dignified at first, but as they got close, he’d swipe pieces while Gus grabbed tea. Straight-up shady.

Zoey, perched on the sofa arm, pounced, hugging the chessboard. “Yeah, Dad! Spill it, don’t mess with the pieces!”

The duo stared down Walter, united.

Walter glanced at Gus, then at his daughter—betrayed to the South Pacific—and back to Gus. After a pause, he coughed.

“So, uh, Gus, you said you had a question?”

Zoey’s eyes popped. “Dad! That’s low, trading a question for a redo!”

She shot Gus a look, but he was thinking—weighing the deal.

“Seriously?” Zoey groaned. “Can y’all respect chess? It’s a gentleman’s game!”

Gus smirked, nodding. “Facts. A gentleman’s open, not scheming!”

Zoey grinned, ready to hype him up, but Gus leaned in, slid the chariot back, and pushed a pawn. “Your move, Uncle.”

Zoey: …What?!

She stomped, sighing skyward. “Shameless! Y’all worse than a Cat Rio trap! Tsk!”

Fuming, she stormed off to wash fruit, leaving Gus and Walter cackling.

Once the laughs died, they got serious. Chess was just a warm-up to talk shop.

Gus leaned in. “Tencel Bull from Thailand hit us up this week for a collab…”

Friday, Matt (Tencel Bull’s Chairman) and Max Wheeler (CEO) flew in, kicking off talks with WindyPeak.

Zoey was all in. Peak Nation was supposed to tank for her loss-rebate scheme, but her last-second hesitation swapped a 10x $95.6M rebate for a 1% $106K charity payout (Chapter 285). Tencel, linked through Ethan “Zane” Holt, was her shot at a new money-sink project.

“What’s the collab look like?” Zoey asked, eyes sharp. This was about her rebate.

Max nodded. “We’re thinking a joint event, shared funding, splitting ad space to boost both brands and rake in revenue. Later, we could host competitions, profit as organizers, or co-sponsor athletes in other sports events for bigger clout and cash.”

Straight-up advertising—events, sponsorships, hype. Profit was a pipe dream; the real win was burning cash for exposure.

Zoey lit up. Perfect. A pure ad project, ripe for losses. Where else could she find this?

She was ready to sign and spend, but—Ding!

A crisp chime hit her mind, pausing her charge.

[New Project Type Detected: Publicity and Marketing Project]
[View Details?]

Zoey froze. Her loss-rebate system had two modes: Regular Projects (10x multiplier, adjustable by days, main or derivative) and Charity Projects (1% of donation). Now, Tencel’s pitch unlocked a third: Publicity and Marketing Project.

[Note: Independent project focused on brand power, not tied to regular or charity projects. Success judged by profit growth vs. marketing costs within a set timeframe. Exceed costs, it’s a win; fall short, it’s a loss.]

Zoey smirked. The system wasn’t dumb—it had rules for fame-chasing cash burns.

New toy to play with. Overwatch was months out (3-4 months, per Jonah’s timeline). Why not test this? Tencel came all the way from Thailand, and with New Year’s vibes looming, it felt wrong to say no.

“So,” Zoey said, leaning in, “how’s your team pushing this? Total investment estimate?”

Max and Matt exchanged looks, stoked.

“We’re planning a ridge challenge,” Max said, sliding a prep-heavy document to Zoey. “Our data shows downhill cycling and skydiving are the hottest extreme sports. Skydiving’s less cinematic, so we’re eyeing a global ridge race in Utah, USA—not your Peak Eight Devil’s Ridge, too gnarly. A safer one for safety.”

“Prize pool’s $300K, split for first, second, third,” he added.

Gus raised an eyebrow. Tencel came ready—sport picked, location scouted, prize tiers set. If WindyPeak greenlit it, the Golden Bull Joint Extreme Challenge was a go.

Gus wanted this. A real-world event tied to Peak Nation’s vibe? Dream collab.

But he wasn’t sure. He was a game designer—planning Titanfall or PUBG was his zone, backed by system mastery and past-life know-how. This? A non-game project, WindyPeak’s first.

In another world, Red Bull rode this “we pay, you play” model to global fame, spanning extreme sports, F1, football, and more. But could that work here? Gus had zero experience in this space.

“What’s the total cost?” he asked.

Max slid another report. “Roughly $7.6M.”

Zoey yelped, “How much?!”

Matt and Max jumped, spooked.

“Uh…” Max stammered, “Seven-point-six million?”

He hesitated. Zoey’s rep—WindyPeak’s wins, Parker Capital’s shadow—loomed large, despite her age.

Zoey frowned. What kind of weak-sauce project is this?

Peak Nation burned $101M for virtual thrills. This real-world race, with actual lives on the line, was a measly $7.6M? Split 50-50, that’s $3.8M each.

Chump change. A max loss of $3.8M, 10x rebate at $38M—pocket lint compared to Overwatch’s $10.03M loss deposit and 1018x potential (Chapter 279). She could make a game instead.

How to juice this budget?

Zoey paused, then said, “My take is—”