Hey guys! LeReno169 here! So this is the first chapter of CrimsonJoy's and my collaboration fic ;D We're taking it in turns writing the chapters and this one just happened to be mine ;) This is like, a combination of Glee and the movie Gamer, so for those of you who have seen the film, you'll have an idea of what might happen. For those who haven't, well, you'll just have to read this then, won't you? ;)

We do not own Glee, nor do we own Gamer. Unfortunately :(

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Bullets jet past, whistling through the air in every direction. Two grenades explode almost simultaneously on either side of me, chunks of concrete and debris raining down around me and I narrowly avoid getting hit on the head. Blood curdling shouts and unhinged screams fill my ears. The scents of fire, gunpowder, blood and corpses overwhelm my nose so powerfully, I can almost taste the putrid amalgamation upon my tongue.

I run to the doorway of a nearby abandoned apartment building, taking shelter from the fray. My grip on my Galil rifle unfailing as I hold it up to my shoulder, my cheek pressed against the cool metal and my eye narrowed down the scope. I keep my left eye open to maintain better observation of my surroundings. Above me, at the top of the flight of stairs at my front, a man stands in a similar stance to my own, his Scar-H spewing rounds into another emotionless puppet. He doesn't even register me as I run towards him, dropping my gun to swing at my side from the shoulder-strap, ripping my blade from its sheath at my hip.

I can see his eyes widen slightly as he himself knows I'm coming for him, but still he doesn't turn in time. I plunge my knife down into his shoulder, swiftly retract it and sink it deep into his neck. He falls to his knees, releasing my dagger from the confines of his muscles, blood spouting from the wound.

Without wiping the red stain from the metal, I re-sheath my close combat weapon, grabbing my rifle again. I stalk through the shadows, my eyes searching for any threat.

A gunshot echoes around me and a large hole appears in the wall in front of me.

I whirl around and pull the trigger, not even having time to think for myself.

Another body falls from a gap in the ceiling and sprawls at my feet, red flowing from one of her eyes.

I find myself crouching over the corpse and searching through her padded, urban camouflage. I stop only when my fingers touch upon the rifle ammunition I was apparently searching for, quickly pocketing it and running away from the scene, through to the other side of the building.

More bombs detonate as I break out into sunlight once again. I don't stop, sprinting across the street to the neighbouring building. Dust shrouds the road as people like me fight, throwing explosives and firing weapons. I dive to the ground as an RPG screeches past and take cover behind a dumpster against the wall of my current target building. A second later, I'm rushing around to the side to find an entrance away from where I had just come.

This appears to be some sort of factory, stripped down and ruined. Graffiti covers the one seemingly surviving wall spanning the length of the room. I read the words "SLAYERS!", "NOBODY CARES.", "THE END IS NEAR." and "THIS IS ALL YOU DESERVE." before I feel myself turning away and sprinting towards a trench nearby. I drop to the ground, sliding into the trench feet first and take out anyone near me.

I release my magazine and drop it to the floor before quickly clicking another into place, my hands unnaturally steady. I see a group of about six men and women, banding together and jogging towards my cover, a little farther down from my position. My fingers pull a mechanism on my rifle and aim towards them. I pull the trigger again but this time my weapon attachment fires a grenade and flames erupt as bodies are thrown up high, chunks of flesh landing some distance away.

I watch as someone runs over to one of the females, whose body had miraculously remained mostly in one piece. The man moves to stand over her head and he squats down three times. Even from here, I can see the distant look in his eyes.

"He fucking tea-bagged her!" A voice shouts from somewhere over my shoulder.

I watch as the tea-bagger is brutally killed by a 6"4 man covered in tattoos, with a Spas-12.

I turn to see a figure running up the naked, metal stairs in the center of the building, up to the next level. A tracer shot embeds itself deep in his knee and he falls at the top step. He makes no sound, but attempts to drag himself up the rest of the steps. A stiletto blade twirls down from the floor above and sinks deep into his temple. This time he stays down.

I don't want to move.

I don't want to tempt fate more than I already have.

I tense as I try to hold my position, I'm about as safe as possible right now, here in this trench. Admittedly it's still not safe at all, but I know that if I move, I will be worse off.

I can't help it when my hands switch my rifle back to semi-automatic. I try to stop my knees from straightening as I stand, but all the will-power in the world can't help me now.

I take off in a sprint again, heading straight for the same staircase I had just witnessed that man soundlessly die upon. I rip two smoke grenades from my belt and throw one to either side of me. They burst on impact and thick, murky smoke erupts from their shells, shrouding the surrounding area like two unending cloaks, merging together and veiling me from oncoming fire.

I reach my hand out when I think I'm close enough and close my fist around the thin rail lining the stairs and drag myself forward, propelling myself up them faster.

I reach the top and quickly do a full 360, taking out three or so competitors in quick succession before another stiletto is flying towards me, graceful and deadly.

I watch as it soars at my face, as if in slow motion.

I take a deep breath.

I've reacted before I've realised. I duck as the blade came within arm's reach. I hear it as it whispers past my ear, I hear the sound of fabric tearing and feel it as the edge of the sharp steel nicks the skin of the angle between my neck and my shoulder.

I'm not even allowed to register the pain.

My USP.40 handgun is in my left hand and pointing towards where the knife came from. The rounds pour out and yet another body slumps to the ground ahead of me.

Again, I sprint towards and past it. My muscles are aching, agonisingly protesting, begging me to stop. But I can't. My breath hitches and comes shallow and uneven. Sweat pours down my face and into my eyes. I want to raise my arm to wipe it away. But I can't. I can only blink furiously to try and clear my vision.

I find myself standing in front of a shattered window at the far right corner of the factory, surrounded by more broken glass and empty panes. I train my gun down to the ground outside, observing for more competitors.

It's close, I can feel it.

I hear a footstep behind me, crushing the shards that plague the floor.

But I don't turn.

I tense, desperately trying to turn around, my heart rate going into overdrive.

But I can't.

Over the pounding in my ears I hear a gun being cocked slowly.

They're playing with me, knowing I'm incapable of facing them.

I try to do something, anything, any trace of hope I could ever dream of having quickly dissipating.

"Turn… Me… Around…" I grunt through gritted teeth.

I hear another step.

Suddenly, finally, I'm being dragged around to point the barrel of my rifle at my hunter.

Within a second I'm spewing bullets into her chest, her blood spraying over me and the glass. She falls out of the window frame behind her and crashes to the ground below with a sickening crunch.

A resounding clink sounds from mere feet away and I look from the fallen body to the source of the noise.

Too late.

Heat floods my face as the flames burst forth from the tiny cylindrical device. I'm blown off my feet and thrown backwards, smashing through the one intact window. I smack into the roof of a Mustang, instantly creating a deep, vast dent.

I cough and splutter as I try to recover. Blood spreads down from somewhere on my head and over my face, my eyebrow and lower lip feel like they're burst, my camouflage has small fires dancing upon it, burning down to my skin and a relatively large chunk of shrapnel is lodged deep into my thigh.

I want to wipe the blood from my face, pat out the fires, rip out the shrapnel and tie my belt above the wound.

But instead I roll off of the car, fall face down in the dirt and stagger back to my feet.

Almost there.

I limp forwards, past other people in similar states to myself, pushing them out of my way with what little strength I have left.

Stumbling, I round a corner and see my objective about a hundred yards away.

A lead pipe lays on the ground next to me, which I use as a crutch to force myself onwards.

I'm so close, yet I wouldn't even care if someone kills me now. This agony is unendurable.

After what feels like a lifetime, I reach the large dome I had been searching for this entire time. I place my hand flat upon its surface, gasping for breath and hunching over. A light scans over my palm and fingerprints and I collapse to the ground, shuddering as I continue to lose blood.

In my head I can hear the heavily accented voice of an English woman and I know I'm not the only one to receive the message.

"End game. SNIXX wins."

Wahey! So this is kinda a surprise for CrimsonJoy, I got too excited to wait for her to get online before uploading it.. Sorry CJ :( Hope you like it though :D

So what did you guys all think? I've been dying to write something like this for a while now, but with my own fic "Blood for Blood", I kinda can't give the characters Galils, RPGs, Grenades and smoke bombs because it's a western... So this was great fun to write XD Leave a review and let us know your thoughts! Thanks for reading :D