Status: In Progress

Genre: Gay and Lesbian


Status: In Progress

Genre: Gay and Lesbian


Characters across the video game universe have been brought together by an unknown force for a new game. While they fight to return their worlds to normal, they might just find some time to play a game of their own.


Characters across the video game universe have been brought together by an unknown force for a new game. While they fight to return their worlds to normal, they might just find some time to play a game of their own.

Prolog (v.1) - Prologue

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 02, 2017

Reads: 1131

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 02, 2017



The bright, white cell’s sleek furniture and walls were a clear indication that this was Lance’s work.  The pair of loaded handguns on the end table next to the poor excuse for a bed the man woke up on, however, weren’t.  It wasn’t like Lance to arm a prisoner, but Alexander couldn’t expect much from a man who consistently kept his most dangerous adversary alive.  He holstered the guns, grabbed his canvas backpack off the floor, and opened the door.  Or, he tried to open the door.

No handle, but the door obviously wasn’t motion activated either as Alexander discovered.  Above it, an electronic display that looked like a blank clock.  He pushed on the door again, expecting it to swing open, yet it remained in place.  An end table and bed stood behind him, neither of which held any hidden buttons or switches, another clue that Lance hadn’t put him here.

A soft beeping noise caught Alexander’s attention and forced him to do a one-eighty.  The display above the door began counting down red numbers, starting at thirty.  Definitely a trap.

The door would open and Alexander would find himself in some unnecessarily drawn out and elaborate maze full of bad guys, trap doors, pressure plates in the floor that activated dart guns set in the walls.  So nothing he never went through before.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Sliding up after a low tone, the door opened onto a small floating platform.  Hesitation wasn’t enough to keep him inside, mostly due to the cell tipping forward and dumping him onto the metal island.  Once Alexander fell out, his former prison dropped several yards and vanished through some sort of invisible floor.

Alexander looked around him and saw flying cars racing around on a track he couldn’t see.  Occasionally, one of the cars, apparently, slid off the road and plummeted like the cell did.  But when the cars fell, instead of disappearing into nothingness, they would hit the ocean or an island they were racing above and explode on impact.  He also noticed an opaque, blue grid in the distance, but it didn’t seem to affect the racers as they twisted and wound through it.

Slightly above him, Alexander saw two more platforms, the same size as his own, at the same level as each other.  They were within jumping distance.  Another platform floated beneath him.  This one was much longer than his and at the other end hovered another small platform at his same level.  The setup of the platforms must’ve been perfectly symmetrical.  Alexander took a double take and noticed another man standing on the opposite platform, pointing a loaded bow and arrow at him.

Dropping down to the next level moments before the man took his shot, Alexander rolled and recovered, ending crouched with his gun pointed at the man.  “Who are you?” he shouted over the dull roar of the engines revving in the background.

“I am Cuetzpalli, loyal warrior to Quetzalcoatl.”  He enunciated each word.  Alexander brushed off the impulse to make a joke about a name that long.

“Where are we?”

“I do not know.  I only just woke up.”

BEGIN!” a booming, electronic voice echoed around them, cutting short the two men’s introductions.  Bright flashes of light emanated from the platforms, one on top of the upper-most platform, and two evenly spaced on the largest platform.  When the lights disappeared, Alexander found himself face to… head with a wire-framed outline of a person.  The thing tilted its head in bewilderment at Alexander before swinging its fist.

The punch caught Alexander directly on the jaw, knocking him backwards.  Cuetzpalli loaded another arrow and took aim at the two figures moving in on Alexander.  However, before he released his grip, an identical figure leapt on him from above, causing the arrow to fly off into the distance.  Looking up, Cuetzpalli noticed the world around them began moving.

As a single unit, the platforms floated around the futuristic race course, drifting low enough for the ocean water to splash them and high enough to make even the bravest a bit timid.  Cuetzpalli kicked the figure off him that was preparing to punch and watched it fall into the opaque, blue grid.  Once the figure hit the grid, a bright, red flash shot up from the impact with the sound of a short, electronic explosion.

Alexander kicked the first figure away and jumped to the next platform before the second one could reach him.  He drew his second handgun and opened fire on the pair, quickly noticing though that his bullets only slightly pushed them back, not dropping them like they should’ve.  He saw Cuetzpalli was watching too.  “What do you make of that?”

Cuetzpalli fired an arrow that disappeared on contact with the wire figure.  The thing stumbled, recollected itself, and then turned its attention to the man who shot him.  “I would say it means they are not human, but I suppose that would make me redundant.”  Cuetzpalli’s accent couldn't easily be placed by Alexander.

The brunette holstered his handgun and pulled out a similar looking object, this one with a grappling hook at the end.  As he pulled the trigger, the hook, attached by a tether, shot forth and wrapped around the leg of the closest figure.  Again he pulled the trigger and the tether began to retract, bringing the figure with it, up to Alexander’s platform.  The man ducked down and pushed a second switch on the gun causing the hook’s blades to flatten out, undoing its grip on the tether.  The tether quickly loosened its hold around the figure’s ankle and the pair of men watched as it continued to soar past Alexander and away from the platforms, eventually colliding with the outer, blue grid.  A similar explosion to the one before occurred.

As the third of the figures leapt towards Alexander, two more flashed onto the scene.  “How many of these things are there?” Alexander shouted, knowing the other man had no answer.

“I know one way to find out,” Cuetzpalli responded.  He jumped down to the big platform and kicked one of the figures square in the chest with his frayed, brown boot.  The figure tumbled backwards and started to regain its balance when Cuetzpalli charged it again, this time diving with both feet first.  With a solid blow to the midsection, the figure shot from the platform and freefell down to explode on the blue grid.

The two men punched and kicked and shot the figures that continued to endlessly appear.  The rhythm of their motions was only interrupted when a warning sounded out.  A bright red exclamation mark displayed over Alexander’s starting platform; one of the figures stood there nonchalantly.  Another exclamation mark appeared over the top platform.  Each warning blinked three times then vanished.  Seconds later the racecars, which up until this point weren't much more than background decorations, drove through the stage where the warnings had marked.

A car struck the figure on the mid level platform and sent it hurtling off towards the blue grid.  Alexander and Cuetzpalli became temporarily fixated on the sight, but quickly noticed something else unusual.  “Where is the new one?” Cuetzpalli asked, seeing only two figures left with them.  The bare-chested man grappled with one of the figures until they reached the edge and he tossed it over.  Alexander shot at the other figure repeatedly, its body flinching towards the edge with every bullet.

When the last figure fell and the last explosion rang out, the scene began to vanish.  The background simply disappeared like a mirage.  Even though they’d both felt the coolness of the ocean spray and the wind from the racing cars, it all faded like someone shutting off a movie projector.  The blue grid in the background ‘turned off’ and was now a dull gray.  A bridge from the edge of the lowest platform to the newly generated door appeared.  The door opened and the men could see a hallway.

Without a word to each other, the pair took off down the bridge.  “This way,” Alexander said, following the ‘exit’ sign outside the door.  They soon found themselves in an atrium where they discerned they were aboard some sort of aircraft.  Clouds rushed underneath the windows, hiding the view below.  “Where do we go?”  Not in response to the brunette’s question, the sound of something rapidly charging caught their attention.

“Move,” Cuetzpalli shouted, shoving Alexander away.  A ball of light shot from above and made a slight blast upon its impact with the floor.  Both men recovered, aiming their guns and bow at the blue shape above them.  On the second floor stood a figure outfitted with a sleek, blue, metal armor.  Its left hand cannon was still aimed at the two men.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!  It’s cool, man.  Don’t shoot.”  The man who ran up behind the armored one shouted with a southern accent.  “Hey, man, I told you not to go shootin’ everythin’ that moves.”  The man nudged the figure with the baseball bat gripped in his hand.  He turned his attention back to the pair downstairs.  “Yeah, I learned the hard way that this one’s got a trigger-finger, but we won’t hurtcha.  I mean, unless you’re tryin’ to hurt us.”

“Who are you?” Cuetzpalli asked, his arrow still aimed at the blue figure.

“Well my name’s Toby.  I’m from New Orleans.  It’s the craziest shit; one minute I’m fightin’ zombies and shit, and the next thing I know I’m on some kinda damn spaceship with a robot,” he motioned to the thing standing next to him, “fightin’ chicken-wire men.”

“And who’s the robot?”  Alexander asked.

“You can call me Phalanx.”  The voice was deep and electronic, but it didn’t sound like an automated voice.

“How about you lower that gun and tell us where you’re from.”  Alexander slowly holstered his guns as he spoke and made a facial gesture at Cuetzpalli to get him to lower his bow.  The armored figure remained still for a moment, considering if it should trust the men it just tried to kill.

“C’mon, do it, man,” Toby implored, earning him a stare from the metal figure.  It lowered its arm and spoke again.

“I’m from the Alpha Facility in Quadrant SF-307.  I was part of a specialized team whose purpose was to recover alien artifacts.”

“So you’re a treasure hunter too?” Alexander smirked.

“You could say that.”  It was clear to all of them, except maybe Toby, that something was amiss.  These four didn’t seem to have much in common except waking up aboard this ship.

“So what do we do now?” Cuetzpalli asked.  His answer came from the floor as it opened up to the outside.  The upstairs floor dropped out as well.

The four individuals fell through the clouds that blocked their view down and saw they weren’t as high up as they thought.  The ‘clouds’, in reality the exhaust of the slow-moving ship.  Below them, a dark city rapidly approached.

Alexander took out his grappling gun and fired it as soon as he got close to the clock tower.  Cuetzpalli did the same with a specialized arrow and rope.  Toby didn’t have any means of catching himself and was lucky that he landed in the nearby river as opposed to the stone streets.  Phalanx was the only one unfortunate enough to hit the ground directly.

As Alexander soared above the city, the hook of his gun snapped and released its hold on the tower.  “Oh, shit!” he shouted as his body crashed into a display of boxes on the side of the street.  He rolled a little farther, getting tears in his tank top and shorts as he did.  He finally came to a stop and felt instant relief he was still breathing.  To his left, Phalanx landed with its own fair share of scuffs and scrapes.

The brunette slowly stood up, assessing himself as he did.  His canvas backpack still clung on and in one piece.  The white soles of his shoes were marked up and scuffed; he supposed new shoes never stayed that way for long anyway.  His muscles ached as he flexed and started walking over to the robot.  The sound of a hundred voices screaming stopped him for only a second.

Filled with terror thinking how close those voices sounded, Alexander limped as fast as he could over to Phalanx.  “Wake up, man,” he said as quietly and firmly as he could.  He shook the shape’s shoulders and smacked its head, but it didn’t move.  “Fuck.”  To his right stood an open door and, beyond that, a sturdier looking metal door.

Straining, Alexander grabbed Phalanx from under the arms and began dragging.  He heard the screams again, definitely getting closer.  Adrenaline surged through him, helping him through the first door.  He could hear more than screams now.  The voices of the unseen mob, speaking in gibberish, panting and shouting.  Finally, Alexander reached the metal door and, after a moment of brief panic, pushed it open, drug Phalanx into the seemingly safe room, and shut the door behind them.  Alexander slid a metal pole next to the door into the intended slots for a little extra security.

The small, dirty window in the door allowed a peek outside.  While he couldn’t make out many fine details, Alexander could still see the horde rooting around, thankfully unaware of his presence.  The thought of the other two strangers entered his mind and he hoped they were okay.  Only knowing him for a brief time was still enough to have Alexander wishing the shirtless, defined Cuetzpalli made it into the room with him rather than the possibly dead Phalanx.

© Copyright 2019 murphtaf. All rights reserved.


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