Darkness falls across the land…
The midnight hour is close at hand…
Actually, the midnight hour passed by about, oh… 3 hours ago? Give or take. The witching hour was in full swing but the only thing haunting Thomas Miller was his impending deadline.
Turning off the music player, the young man sighed as he leaned back in his uncomfortable office chair. He rubbed his eyes, hoping such an action would drive away the sleep deprivation. Unfortunately, it did little besides make it even harder to keep awake.
Thomas looked at the clock, casually ticking away without a care in the world. If only he were so lucky. But every tick and tock the clock brought only hastened his impending deadline.
No one else was in the building, or at least he hoped so. If there were such a person, he was likely to rob poor Thomas. Not that he would get very much, as Thomas’s wallet grew lighter by the day. You’d think working sixty hour weeks would fatten the hungry little fella up, but it only seemed to do the opposite.
Speaking of being hungry, Thomas’s stomach bellowed loudly and fervently, demanding sustenance. “Yeah I know. You're hungry. But I’ve got this deadline and-” But his stomach would not be denied, and let out an even louder roar.
“Alright, alright! I’ll feed you. Just give me a minute…” Thomas said with a sigh. Maybe it was a good thing all his coworkers decided to come down with the flu, lest they catch him losing an argument with his stomach. A sad day for the former captain of his high school debate team.
Or at least that was their excuse, but seeing as it was New Years, he sincerely doubted they all came down with a bug at the same time. Not unless that bug came with a six pack and loose women. Now if they called tomorrow about having an illness, he might have believed it.
Giving the screen in front of him one last look before wandering through the dark streets in search of food, he frowned at the incomplete string of code. It was supposed to have been done days ago, but lazy people kept forcing their work on him.
The code itself was for a game they were making called Rift War, a sci-fi 5v5 battle game. Players would select characters from two primary factions and battle them across several different planets, each with their own gimmick. There were other modes of play, of course, but that was the gist of it.
That’s right, Thomas worked for a game company. One he had started himself with a friend from college. And what a terrible idea that turned out to be.
He thought it would be a good investment, as his friend had very rich parents who could invest in the company. That was actually part of the sales pitch that made him agree in the first place.
But as it turns out, they weren’t exactly keen on investing in a company that hasn’t produced anything of note since the company’s founding. That’s when they gave their son an ultimatum.
Either produce results, or no more money. Hearing that, Thomas’s friend guaranteed his parents that they would be unveiling their game at the next Summer Game Fest. That mollified them somewhat, but they were now on a serious deadline, something the slackers they hired weren’t prepared for.
Neither was his friend, honestly. Thomas was almost certain the company would be shut down and whatever assets they had would be auctioned off, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t put his all into trying to make it work.
So that’s why he was here in the dead of night battling the ghosts that come out after 3 AM. He would at least do his part, that’s what he was paid for after all, even if he was doing more work than his salary demanded.
His stomach took that moment to remind him of his promise to feed it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Stop yelling at me already,” he mumbled, standing up from his less than comfortable chair.
He stretched a bit, trying to work out the kinks in his back, but that proved to be less than effective. He let out a sigh as he started to walk through the empty office, passing by a multitude of computers before reaching the main hall. The space they had was part of a larger building complex that rented out space to multiple companies.
That was Thomas’s idea. His friend wanted to get a massive building, but if they had, his parents would have likely cut them off ages ago. And considering their small team, such an expense would not have been a wise investment.
Locking the door behind him, he made his way to the elevator, hitting the button for the ground floor. The building they were in wasn’t exactly the most up to date or modern structure, so it took a good bit for the elevator to grind up to his floor.
Thomas was always a bit wary about riding the thing, considering the noise it made, but so far, it’s proven to be quite reliable. Perhaps it’s just that older things were built to last, unlike products today, which were built with an expiration in mind to force the consumer to purchase more products. This was especially true with electronics, like phones or computers. A bit scummy, perhaps, but you couldn’t argue against its effectiveness.
Once he finally reached the bottom, he proceeded to leave the building, checking his phone for any restaurants that might be available at this ungodly hour. Turns out, nothing that made anything decent.
McDonald’s it is. Now that was a successful business. Most people didn’t even care that what they were eating may or may not have been actual meat fit for human consumption. It was cheap, and with it being covered in grease, pretty tasty too.
What more could you ask for?
Luckily, those things were everywhere, and one just so happened to be down the street. So he wrapped his jacket around himself tighter and began his trek to the fast food joint.
He walked down the barren city streets, his breath coming out in foggy vapors as it met the chilly New Year’s air. At this time of day the city was mostly peaceful, but the atmosphere could use some work. The flickering light above as he passed under the streetlamp sure didn’t help any. It was like a scene straight out of a slasher flick.
It also spoke of either negligence or incompetence. Someone should have been around to change it days ago after he filed a report with the city. But it seems they enjoyed sitting on their asses and wasting his tax dollars on frivolous nonsense.
No use griping about what he had no control over. His time was better spent on things he could control, like getting cheap food and returning to work. Those were far better uses of his time.
Walking through the sliding doors into the fast food restaurant, Thomas winced as the bright lights assaulted his vision. He had to blink a few times to clear the spots away. “That should be a health and safety violation,” he thought to himself.
But rather than verbally assault a minimum wage employee, he chose to suck it up and just order some food. Walking up to the cash register, he saw a young woman in her late teens, staring at her phone and chewing some bubble gum.
And completely ignoring him. He waited a minute to see if she would acknowledge him, but to his immense frustration, she just continued to tap away at her phone, blowing bubbles with her gum.
“Um, excuse me?” Thomas said aloud, getting her to cast a disinterested look his way, the bubble she was blowing popping. With a long, resentful sigh, like speaking to him and doing her job was the greatest hassle in her life, she asked him a question.
“What can I get you?”
The words were professional enough, but the tone was anything but. Thomas, however, didn't care, and simply ordered a couple of burgers off the dollar menu, a medium fries, and a large drink.
“Will it be all for you sir?” she asked, bored.
“Yes, that should just about do it.”
“Fantastic. That’ll be 12.50.”
Thomas winced at the price. Damn inflation. If only congress wasn’t filled with a bunch of communists who didn't understand the first thing about economics. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Paying the outrageous bill, he went to fill up his drink and wait. Apparently, the graveyard shift was severely understaffed, because it took him 20 minutes to get his food. Perhaps if they hadn’t hiked the minimum wage up to 25$ an hour, Micky D’s might actually hire some more people.
But he was forced to wait for not so fast food, until he eventually received it. After double checking to make sure they didn’t screw up his order, he left the restaurant.
Walking back wasn’t any better than the trip there. The night air was still cold, but there was one difference. The flickering light from before had finally decided it was time to burn out. How very considerate.
The atmosphere of the dark streets was creepy enough before, but now that there was a large swath of space completely devoid of all light, well, it made him want to head back to the exceptionally well lit McDonald’s.
But he didn’t. He needed to consume this dubious meat he bought, pray he wouldn’t get heartburn from the grease, and get back to work.
But just as he was passing through the lightless path in front of him, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Thomas pulled it back, but the grip was surprisingly strong. He could see who it was that grabbed him, but he could sure as hell smell him.
It was the smell of garbage mixed with a healthy dose of vomit, and just a dash of alcohol. Thomas’s nose crinkled from the smell, and redoubled his efforts to escape, managing to drag whoever it was into the light.
He was dirty, but that should have been a given, considering the smell coming from him. His clothes were worn and ragged, having seen far too much use. His beard was wild and unkempt, with what looked like bird shit stuck in the hairs, and his shoes were held together by duct tape.
Thomas didn’t know who he was, but he knew he was one of the homeless who had made camp in the area recently. He cursed himself for forgetting that fact. If he had, he would have ignored his stomach and just kept working. But no, he had to give in to his whining.
This is what he gets for being a nice person.
“Hey asshole, let go!” Thomas yelled, hoping that his shouts would draw some attention their way and someone would have the decency to help him.
“Come on man, just give me some of that food you got. I’m starving,” the hobo said, his voice gnarled and cracked, likely from years of hard living and even harder drugs. It was hard to see in the dark, but Thomas could make out the tell-tale signs of drug abuse.
His eyes for one, were wild and dilated, unable to focus on anything for long. His teeth were rotten and yellow, with several missing. There were burn marks on his lips as well as his fingertips, a common sign of those who were familiar with a crack pipe.
“I don’t think so. I paid for this with my hard earned money that I made from my job. If you would like to eat something that hasn’t been in the garbage, perhaps you should consider getting one yourself,” Thomas replied.
Honestly, the fact that he thought he would just hand over his food was absurd. Laughable even. Thomas wasn’t opposed to giving to the needy, but this man was in this situation of his own free will. He chose to do the drugs, no one forced him to do so. Or it was extremely unlikely that they did.
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“Hey, I fought for this country, so how about you show some respect. I bled over there and what do I get in return? Some uppity little cocksucker who won’t share one measly little burger. I tell ya, it’s a damn shame what’s happened to this country,” muttered the homeless man.
“Do you have any idea just how expensive these measly little burgers are? If you did, you’d understand why I have no intention of giving you one. So go try your sob story somewhere else,” Thomas told him. But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as the homeless man took a swing at him.
“Woah!” Thomas yelled out, leaning his head back to avoid the blow. This is what happens when stupid people get emotional. They lash out with anger and violence with no heed to the consequences.
“Think you’re so smart, don’t ya? Think you’re better than me? I’ll show you!” shouted the homeless man, eyes manic with fury. He took another swing at Thomas, only for him to dance clumsily out of the way.
“Damn it! How did I end up in this situation?” he thought, as the vagrant grabbed his bag of food, starting a tug of war between the two. Becoming infuriated by the fact that he was being assaulted for no reason, Thomas took a swing of his own, connecting with the man’s nose, making him release the bag as he stumbled backwards.
“How’d that feel, asshole? Shit that hurt,” Thomas complained, cradling his hand. They made it look so much easier in the movies.
“You son of a bitch!” shouted the homeless man with a bloody nose. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, brandishing it at Thomas with clear intention.
“Woah, let’s just calm down,” Thomas said, backing away from the psychotic bum in front of him.
“You had your chance you little bitch. Now go to hell with the rest of the fat cats!” he shouted, rushing towards Thomas. Said man dropped the food he was carrying in favor of grabbing the bearded man’s arms.
They struggled for a bit, and Thomas lamented the fact that he didn’t commit to the gym like he said he would. That laziness was really coming back to bite him at the moment.
The two of them continued their dance for a bit, neither one able to overpower the other. Thomas had his full attention on the knife that was aiming for his chest, which would prove to be a fatal mistake.
His foot came down on the side of the curb, and he went down like a sack of potatoes, followed closely by an enraged vagabond. The two hit the ground, with the bum landing on top of him. Thomas felt a sharp pain in his chest, and found it hard to breathe.
And not just because of the rancid breath of the homeless man straddling him. That wasn’t something he ever thought he’d say.
“Take that mother fucker,” the bum said, spitting in Thomas’s face. Once the dirt hobo got off of his chest, Thomas looked down to see the damage.
“No wonder it’s hard to breathe. It went right into my left lung,” he thought, breaths coming out in gurgling rasps. Blood leaked out of his mouth as he desperately tried for one more breath.
“Am I… dying? Seriously? All because some asshole thought he was entitled to my food? God damn it,” he thought, turning to look at his killer who was rummaging through his McDonald’s bag.
“I hope you choke, asshole.”
As if he could hear Thomas’s final thoughts, he turned around and gave the man a grin. “You should have just shared it with me. Not right that you should get two burgers and I don't get one. Is that what you call equality? You eat cause you have money, and I starve cause I don’t. How is that fair?”
“Oh great, he’s a communist, just my luck. How is it fair that I’m expected to shoulder the burden of feeding you as well, when you aren’t willing to work? What part of that is equal? Lazy shit,” Thomas thought. As he wasn’t able to verbally communicate his thoughts, due to the blood in his lungs, he instead raised a shaky hand and gave him the middle finger. Pretty sure he got the gist of it.
That was the last thing Thomas saw as his eyes closed and his breathing stopped.
When he opened them again, he was surprised to find himself inside of a massive chamber, with enormous marbled columns going up hundreds of feet to the ceiling. A ceiling that was painted with depictions of various wars, with red being the central color scheme.
The walls were painted in a similar fashion, only they showed the steady progression of war, from people using rocks and pointy sticks, to swords and bows, all the way up to tanks and fighter jets.
Looking below him, he saw a large, desolate expanse filled with innumerable amounts of skulls. It was like he was standing on glass, looking down at the remains of every person who ever died.
At one end of the room was an extremely large stone throne, with, shocker, more bones covering it. It looked like some fucked up cult effigy they’d make to obtain Satan’s favor. That didn’t bode well for him.
The other end of the room contained a pair of gargantuan doors made of blackened steel with depictions of people getting run through by a spear, or decapitated by a sword.
Whoever this place belonged to had a colossal boner for war. “Bet he’d get along great with dad,” Thomas thought with bitterness. His dad never did forgive him for not joining the army. He wondered if he’d even show up at his funeral, especially after he was killed in a fight with a hobo.
“Are you finished with your observations?” someone with an impossibly deep and gravelly voice asked. Thomas spun around and saw a figure sitting in the throne that was definitely not there a second prior.
He wore an outfit reminiscent of a spartan, only he didn’t wear a shirt. Probably because he couldn’t find one that fit his frame. Not because he was fat, far from it, but because his muscles were so big, he probably ripped any shirt he put on.
His lower half was covered by one of those armored, skirt thingies, and he wore a cloak the color of blood around his broad shoulders. A pair of metal greaves protected his shins, with leather sandals on his feet. Next to the throne rested a spear, easily within arms reach, with a shield on the other side.
But the most unsettling thing of all was the helmet. It wasn’t the helmet itself that made him nervous, seeing as it was just a standard spartan helmet with a red crest, it was the pair of eyes he could see within the shadows of the protective helm.
Fire. Eyes made of fire that stared at him with an intense anger. Thomas didn’t know what he did to make this guy angry, but he regretted it.
“I, um, yes?” Thomas inquired. The looming figure did not seem impressed by his stuttering.
“And have you figured out where you are, human?” he asked with a hint of condescension.
“I assumed it was hell,” Thomas stated. What else could it have been? The massive figure leaned forward, making Thomas feel more than a little intimidated.
“If only you were so lucky. However, I am not the devil. I am Ares, the God of War. And you, little human, have offended me greatly,” came the booming reply.
Thomas looked even more confused at that. “Could you elaborate on that?” he asked, having no idea what he could have done to anger a so-called god. But if it was true, and he really was the God of War, then at least the decor made sense.
Ares leaned back in his throne, staring at the human in front of him. He waved his hand, and the scene below him changed from a valley of bones to a village. One that looked like it came from the dark ages.
“Over a thousand years ago, I bestowed a blessing on your family. They were about to go to war and prayed that I would guide them in the coming conflict. It was nothing more than a whim on my part.”
The scene below showed what happened. A man and a woman, knelt in prayer, and a raging fire burst forth from the hearth. It was almost like watching a play.
“And since that time, every member of your family has set foot on the battlefield. And every member has returned alive. Not a single soul was lost to war. Such was the covenant we made.”
“That is, until you.”
His voice grew angry at that, and the scene below showed Thomas, fighting the homeless communist and getting stabbed. It was bad enough the first time but seeing it from an outside perspective was really off putting.
“I was willing to let the insult of you abstaining from war slide, as your family has honored our pact for so long. I could accept a single son refusing. That is… until you died in battle.”
The temperature in the room rose dramatically, and the scene below him shifted to the endless expanse of bones once more, all of them shaking and jittering, clacking their teeth together on a horrific cacophony of sound.
“Um, right, sorry about that. But it’s not like I intended to die or anything. And besides, it’s pretty messed up that you would hold me to a promise that I never made or even knew about. Plus, it doesn’t seem to be a very effective blessing if a starving bum could kill me,” Thomas said.
“That might have been the wrong thing to say…” he thought to himself, watching as Ares became incensed.
“You dare claim me at fault!? When I so generously forgave you the insult you gave me!?”
Thomas reached up to his ear, using his finger to clean it out. That shout really did a number on his eardrums. “Again, and I mean no disrespect, but I never agreed to anything. You can’t hold me accountable to a contract I never signed or consented to. That’s not how things work,” he said.
“What!?”
“If you wanted to renew the contract, you should have done so on an individual basis. None of this collectivist crap. That completely destroys the foundation of free will. You should be ashamed of yourself,” Thomas said, lecturing the angry god.
“How arrogant you humans have become, to lecture a god about his rights.”
“A god should know these things. The fact that you deny them is pretty telling. Actually, you remind me of this show I watched, about alien abductions. How they would pretend to be something else so the person never realized what they really were. Is that what you really are? An alien who wants to probe me? Well it ain’t gonna happen pal!”
There was a bit of stunned silence for a bit, and Thomas felt proud for having sussed out this creature's true nature. A god? As if! Gods don’t exist, and if they did, surely they wouldn’t be as unreasonable as the one in front of him.
“Perhaps I should send you down below, to be devoured for all eternity by the bones of the fallen. Or maybe you’d like your organs devoured everyday, like Prometheus. So many ways to punish you for your insolence, you’ll wish you were sent to hell.”
“Um, wait, can’t we talk about this? Like civilized people?” Thomas practically begged. Even if he wasn’t really a god, that didn’t mean he couldn’t torture him in all kinds of strange ways.
But the God of War was no longer in a talkative mood.
“No. You have insulted me and my domain. War is something that should be revered and worshiped, not belittled by arrogant whelps like yourself. Perhaps a few thousand years of torture might change your tune.”
The god, or alien as Thomas believed, then rose from his throne, standing at a height that dwarfed poor Thomas. He grabbed his spear and made his way towards the trembling human.
“Hang on there big guy! I have a much better idea!” shouted a high pitched voice. The two looked around for the speaker, but it seemed like Ares knew who it was.
“Teth, what do you want? I don’t have time to play, can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Aw come on, don’t be such a fuddy duddy. Besides, don’t you want to hear my idea? I bet you’d like it!”
Appearing from thin air was another being, this one much smaller than Ares. He was almost the same size as a human. His hair was bright orange and he had freckles dotting his face. His eyes were a bright yellow and filled with playfulness. He wore a pair of baggy, white shorts, and an equally baggy red shirt. Two small wings jutted out of his back, fluttering so fast they were practically invisible. But the weirdest thing were the flip flops that covered his feet.
To Thomas, this just proved his theory even more. What human, let alone god, would dress like that? It was clearly a member of an advanced race who picked out a bunch of human clothes and threw them on, not understanding what a travesty it was.
“Somehow I doubt it. But fine, speak your piece. Then I can get back to torturing this foolish mortal.”
“Take your time!” Thomas shouted, much to Ares' frustrations and Teths’ amusement.
“Oh, I like him! But more to the point, you could torture him all you want, but I doubt he’d ever come to respecting your domain, not really. So, how about we make him play a game instead?”
“A game?” Ares asked dubiously.
“Yup! You like games don’tcha? I mean, you must, you make them for a living! So I propose he plays a game, but one with some stakes to it! If he wins, no torture, but if you win, you can do what you want with him! How does that sound?” Teth asked, buzzing around like a hummingbird on crack.
“And how does that benefit me? I can already do as I please with him,” Ares stated, crossing his hands over his chest to glare at the other god.
“Ah ah ah! You have to let me explain the game first!” Teth chastised, wagging his finger in the larger god’s face, who growled and took a swipe at him.
“Well, get on with it then!”
“Ok ok! You see, I propose we send him to a world on the brink of war, and force him to enter. Not only that, we turn his life into one of those games he loves so much to make sure he enjoys it. He wins if he can maintain his disdain for war. You win if he comes to appreciate the art that is war,” Teth explained.
Ares rubbed his chin in thought, considering the other god’s proposal. Thomas stared at the two of them in dawning horror. They were going to force him to play some sick game, where he’s forced into combat, forced to end untold lives, or he would be tortured for all eternity.
What the hell was wrong with them? War itself was bad enough, and a complete waste of time and lives in almost any scenario. So to turn that horrible affair into a game and not one that was on a screen, but in real life was just sick.
But the worst part was, he didn’t know if he’d be able to resist. He’s read those stories before, where someone gets game-like powers and they become addicted to the grind, forgetting about the fact that it was real human lives they were playing with.
That’s not a person he wanted to become. But it’s not like these aliens could actually do something like that, right? Unless they shoved some kind of chip in his brain that made everything like an ARG, then maybe.
Seeing the look of horror and uncertainty gracing his guest’s face, Ares own morphed into a grin. “You know what Teth, you’re on. This sounds like a good way to pass the time.”
Teth did a flip in the air, cheeks pulled back into an excited grin. “Alright, now that’s what I’m talking about! You won’t regret it I swear! And I even have the perfect world to send him to!”
Teth held out his hands, showing a spherical world that looked very similar to Earth. “This is an alternate Earth, where they have a little something called magic. And of course, humans have taken that power and turned it into a weapon of war.”
Ares looked intrigued by this. Any advancement in war was something to be celebrated, at least according to him, and he’s grown somewhat bored with the way war has been waged on the planet down below. Most of it was done online now, and that was hardly a war at all.
Cyberwar! Bah! That was a battlefield for cowards. Real war was dirty, filled with the screams of friend and foe alike as they resorted to that primal part of themselves that demanded survival.
Something the human in front of him was severely lacking in.
“Did you hear that, mortal? You should be grateful. You’ll be given this great gift of magic; use it to spread the glory of my name. The glory that is war! Should you become an apt herald, I may choose to spare you. But if you wish to resist this honor, then by all means, do so. Let’s see how long you last before the exhilaration of battle has you in its grasp.”
Having said that, Ares banged his spear on the ground, and a swirling vortex appeared below Thomas, kicking up a violent wind.
“Hang on! Can we talk about this!? This seems really unnecessary!” he cried out, blocking the wind with his arm.
“Go now, and spread the glory of my name. Let all know the might of the God of War!” Ares shouted, completely ignoring Thomas. Teth gave him a happy little wave as he fluttered by the other god.
“Good luck! You're going to need it!”
“Screw you! I won’t give in to a pair of false gods like you! I know you’re really aliens trying to trick me using advanced technology. Well I won’t fall for it, you hear!” he screamed, making Teth chortle at what he called them.
“Aliens, huh? That’s funny. Almost as funny as that other one calling “Him” Being X.”
Thomas was confused by that last statement. Other one? Does that mean there was someone else getting screwed over by these creatures? Were they being sent to the same place as he was? If so, maybe he could find them and they could team up against these things.
Those were his last thoughts before he disappeared.
The next thing he saw was a white ceiling, the sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping beside him. Confused, he looked around, and sure enough, he was in a hospital room. Although, it appeared to be a bit dated.
“Where am I? Where did those aliens send me?” he thought. He tried to move his body, but it felt so weak, like it hasn’t moved in a long time. Looking down, he made another startling discovery.
He was small. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was a child. But that’s impossible, right? Or did those aliens somehow swap his consciousness with some kid’s?
Further proof that whatever those creatures were had no respect for the sanctity of human rights and freedoms. It was appalling to think that he would be forced to take the place of some poor, sick child.
Or it could all be a simulation, who knows? There was really no telling what an advanced species could do. What was that saying again? Any technology sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic. Something like that?
Well, this seemed pretty darn magical to him!
But before he could think more on it, a screen appeared in front of him, startling him.
Welcome to the Game!
Thomas’ eyes widened at the sight, but before he could do much about it, a loud crash attracted his attention. Standing in the doorway was a middle aged woman with blonde hair wearing a nurses uniform staring at him in shock. Below her was a metal tray, with several pieces of medical equipment scattered around the floor.
“You're awake… Oh my God you’re awake! Doctor! Doctor, he’s awake!” she shouted running off down the hall.
Thomas could only stare after her, wondering what he was in for in this new life of his.