I stumbled through the snow, weary and frostbitten. Despite my armor’s climate control system, the sheer brutality of the environment had overwhelmed my tech and taken a heavy toll on my body.

  Count B was coiled inside the quest sack, shivering, and I didn’t blame him. I, too, clutched my elbows, shuddering in the savage winds.

  More snow was falling now, blanketing the icy terrain in a complete white-out. The ambush only happened 30 minutes ago, but it felt like days. The front of my armor was still coated in G’s blood. All I could think about was whether I had sent him off-world in time. Did he survive the trip, or did he flatline as his body zipped throughout the cosmos?

  By the way I felt, I’d soon be joining him.

  The sonic whistle signaling half-time had blown 10 minutes ago. Fireworks filled the air. The Skybotron flashed back on.

  Blink and Gill appeared, cheerily recounting the joys of the first half of Slayer Bowl. They ran highlights one after the other, showcasing dramatic and gruesome kills.

  Gaseous warriors entered the nostrils of beasts, inflating them until they popped. Liquid warriors boiled into steam, bubbling the flesh off other monsters. And, of course, there was a major highlight package focusing on Dom Blady and the Slaytriots, hacking, slashing, and ripping apart countless creatures on their way to scoring a record seven orbdowns in the second quarter alone.

  I stared at his smug smile, peeking through wintry clouds as he chomped a huge chunk of a still-beating heart and chewed it like jerky.

  “And that’s what makes this game so thrilling!” Blink exclaimed. “There’s no sports spectacle in the multiverse quite like Slayer Bowl.”

  “Absolutely!” Gill echoed the sentiment. “Just knowing there’s heroes like Dom Blady out there, makes us all sleep better at night.”

  “However,” Blink interjected, “we would be remiss if we did not honor the sacrifice, bravery, and showmanship of the fallen.”

  A mind-numbing stat flashed above—

  Warriors Lost In The First Half: 3,802,145.

  Had that many really died and DNF’d? That meant, of the six million initial warriors, only 2.2 million were left. A little more than a third remaining.

  The video tribute started off solemn enough, with regal music underscoring a montage of star combatants, their names and where they hailed from.

  But, like all things in Slayer Bowl, it soon devolved into a total gore-fest—a highlight package edited in sync to a pumping alien rock track, showing these same warriors exploding, getting eviscerated, and being disemboweled by in-game monsters.

  I could just imagine some extraterrestrial dickhead with a goatee, sitting in his edit bay, cutting this sick piece together, munching on some weird-named alien snack. Then, pointing and laughing at his screen as his pot-bellied supervisor popped in to check on his progress.

  But the most disturbing thing of all was how they handled our squad’s exile from the tournament.

  “Speaking of unfortunate incidents,” Blink continued, “I regret to even report this news—”

  “I DON’T!” Gill interrupted with a grin.

  It was the first time I’d seen that many of his teeth.

  “We just received the most shocking, exclusive footage of two warriors exiting the match. You might know them… ‘Suck-Up-Sam’ and his furry, four-armed boyfriend. But, unfortunately, our cameras caught the two in the middle of a lovers’ spat.”

  The Skybotron filled with doctored footage of me and G getting into an argument on the top of the ice ridge. Digital fakery showed us in a heated conflict, coming to blows, with both of us tumbling off the edge of the cliff at the end.

  A red, flashing—

  DNF!

  —filled the screen, superimposed over our portraits.

  The Skybotron cut to reaction shots from across the multiverse. Alien viewers reacted with shock, horror, and disbelief as they watched me and G fall to our digital demise.

  The feed cut back to the studio where Gill happily struck my name off the scoreboard with a smirk. “Ah well. That was short-lived.”

  He raised a glass of a black, bubbling cocktail. “To the Puny Pizza Earthling.” He took a sip, then chucked it over his shoulder. “NOW, ONTO MORE HIGHLIGHTS!”

  I closed the feed.

  With Krivlax and his commentators spreading the false news that G and I were dead, that could only mean one thing: no teleportation transport was coming.

  Krivlax had the perfect setup. With me marooned in this icy wasteland, no one would ever learn of my true fate. He could spin the narrative however he wanted.

  Fortunately for me, at the end of the first half, a locker room icon had appeared on my map. Unfortunately, it was 40 kilometers away. And, straddled with sleep deprivation, waning energy, and malnourishment, I was struggling even to walk.

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  I guzzled more Nebula Fuel, but that barely gave me a kick, and I didn’t have any more Aste-Roids to shoot up with.

  I wandered through the snow, aimed towards the bench and towel icon on my map for as long as I could. But my eyelids grew heavy, and the sweet bliss of sleep continued to call.

  I heard something else, too. A familiar sweet song, rising over the wind.

  It was beautiful.

  What was her name again? Sola? No. Wait. That was a… Babe? A Bowl Babe?

  My mind grew foggy. My legs quaked. With every, lumbering step, I wrestled against sheer exhaustion and bouts of micro-sleep.

  At some point, I must have started to hallucinate. I could have sworn I saw G standing up ahead, beckoning me forward.

  “Just a little further, Deep-Dish Sam.”

  I smiled, reaching towards him. But, as I took a few more steps, he disintegrated, leaving behind a pool of blood on the snow.

  ME: ERNI… I don’t think… I’m gonna make it.

  ERNI: Sam, you must remain alert. If you lose consciousness, I do not have the proper tools to resuscitate you.

  ME: It’s okay. If I die… get the story out… Show them the truth. Don’t… let… Krivlax win.

  ERNI: I will do my best, Sam.

  ME: Hey, ERNI…

  ERNI: Yes, Sam?

  ME: You were a good friend.

  ERNI: Thank you, Sam. So were you.

  I thought I saw the locker room door up ahead.

  ME: Door? Doors?

  ERNI: You wish to hear the Doors?

  I crumpled to my knees, in the snow. The last thing I remember was hearing ERNI playing ”This Is the End” by the Doors.

  ME: That’s… really disconcerting…

  Then, there was nothing but blackness.

  ----

  Sola stood over me with a snarky smile. “Some warrior you turned out to be.”

  “It’s really you. You’re here.” I reached up and touched her face.

  “No, you are here.”

  “What do you mean?” I said, rising from a cot.

  “Take a look around you. We’re on Blady’s ship.”

  “We are?”

  “Yeah, how else were you expecting to see me again?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m so glad I am.”

  I grabbed her into a warm embrace. She felt so good. She smelled even better. I pulled her into a kiss.

  “I thought you might be dead. I didn’t know what happened to you.”

  She flipped her hair back with a smile, “I can handle myself.”

  “Wait a minute? They just let you roam free around here? Why aren’t you shackled?”

  “Is that the way you’d like me? Tied up?” She flashed a sexy grin.

  “I mean, I’m not mad at the idea.” I cheesed back.

  “You’re a funny bird, Sam Wynbrook.”

  I swelled with emotion. I felt like I hadn’t seen her or heard that phrase in months.

  Sola pulled away from me—a strange expression washing over her face.

  “It’s pathetic, really.”

  “What?”

  “Just how easily your kind can be manipulated.”

  It was still Sola speaking, but her voice was different now. Deep and gravelly. I recognized it in an instant.

  “Krivlax!”

  He broke into a sustained, evil laugh as he dispensed with the charade and morphed into his green-skinned, needle-toothed smile.

  “Sam, Sam… the Pizza Man… It seems no matter what I do, you persist in living.”

  “You’ll never get away with this, Krivlax! The fans will never believe that me and G killed one another!”

  “They will if that’s what I want them to think. But I’ve come to you with a different proposal. One that should solve both of our… problems.”

  I cocked my head, surprised by the suggestion.

  “One billion credits, untraceable, in an account. A complete identity wipe and appearance transformation… and yes, even your Earthling woman, Sola. The two of you can start fresh on any planet of your choosing. Just agree to go away and I shall make it so. You can leave all of this behind and you and I never need to speak with or see each other again.”

  “You came here to buy me off?”

  Inside, my blood boiled. I threw a punch, but it sailed right through him, flickering his holographic image.

  “Now what kind of gratitude is that?”

  “Gratitude? You destroyed my planet. Killed my mother, And let Blady kidnap Sola. And now you try and buy my silence? You bet against the wrong horse!”

  He pursed his lips, seething.

  “Watch your tone, boy. This is a one-time offer, and one I won’t repeat. If you foolishly decline and try to re-enter the game, a far worse fate awaits you. Think it over. Why don’t you sleep on it?”

  He cackled, then hissed like a snake, lassoing my neck with a forked tongue.

  ----

  I snapped awake.

  I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but I was sure Krivlax had found some way to invade my subconscious.

  My vision was fuzzy. Disoriented, I looked around, trying to determine my surroundings. I was on a hover cot in what appeared to be another locker room. I was out of my armor, wearing a thermal suit, and Count B’s leafy arms were wrapped around my body like a protective blanket.

  “Count Basil?” I asked, my throat raw.

  COUNT BASIL: LEAF! LEAF! LEAF!

  He was so excited, he squeezed me tight, hugging me like a long-lost sibling.

  “How… how did we get here?”

  “Count Basil brought you,” ERNI replied.

  “What?”

  “When you fell unconscious, Count Basil pulled you the remainder of the distance.”

  “Are you serious? Count B? You did that?”

  He shook his leafy head.

  COUNT BASIL: Leaf.

  I noticed several of his leaves, withered and black with frostbite, and suddenly understood just how much pain he must have endured to drag me through the snow.

  “Thanks, little buddy. You saved my life.”

  We embraced even tighter. Count B’s vines quivered, as if he were crying. I could sense all of our shared trauma releasing as we held onto one another. We didn’t have to communicate with words. We both had survived so much and had lost a dear, dear friend.

  ----

  Cleansing Initiated.

  I stood in the cleansing chamber, palms flat against the wall, head down, as the hot steam enveloped my body. My legs were shot, quivering like Jell-O, but the warm mist was comforting, and I felt refreshed as it washed over my body.

  Cleansing Complete.

  ----

  I sat at the table, mindlessly scarfing down food. I guzzled a pint of ale, knowing full well it wouldn’t help my dehydration. I didn’t really care. I drank and I thought of G and Sola, and my mother, and everyone else I lost to Krivlax’s evil empire.

  I belched and kneaded the Squishy Slayer Bowl Stress Ball from my inventory. It didn’t help. There’s not much that can console you when you’ve lost everyone you care about. I looked over at Count B, resting on the cot.

  Well, almost everyone.

  I kissed my mother’s game-pendant as I laid down on the hover-cot. A voice from the past played in my head—

  “Halftime is for making adjustments.”

  It was my father’s voice in a video interview before he died.

  “You go in. You figure out what worked. What didn’t. And you fix it. You hit ‘em with something they ain’t ready for. Somethin’ new. Somethin’ special. That’s how you win it all!”

  I had watched that clip endless times as a kid, not knowing what it meant or really knowing the man who was saying it.

  But the words resonated with me now. It was halftime and I was going to have to change up everything to beat Blady and Krivlax.

  And as I fell asleep, once more, that was exactly what I swore to do.