Just a Game

by Fleet of the Wind

The way the other man had phrased it, he almost could've tricked himself into thinking that he was sitting down for a friendly game of chess, or some other harmless match. This was no friendly game. In fact, Steve thought, as he reached forward with shaking hands to make the next move, this was probably the most important game of his life.

3. Tap the Wall

Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Steve paused. He was still bent over the book several hours after Alpha's first leave from the room. He had sighed heavily; staggered down into the metal chair in front of him, and stared at the cover for a long while—mind just completely running a blank. He had tried to think of a loophole, a way to escape—but the vent of air that kept him alive were about the size of his fist, and the door and walls were solid. Alpha hadn't returned, and the best thing that Steve had come up with in terms of escape plans was rushing the man the next time he came in. The solider knew it probably wasn't the best of plans—the man probably had considerable power to just be able to build this whole compound—and that there probably was more to this frail looking old man that met the eye—but it was the only plan he had.

Until then, the best he could do was read this book in case worst came to worst and he actually had to partake in the games.

So far, Steve had gotten very little from the book he wouldn't have been able to assume on his own.

Two teams. One offensive, one defensive. Steve assumed he was the defense team. The defensive team had six players. One game 'master' and five 'pawns'. The pawns would do their best to navigate through the maze-like compound based on where the game-master opened doors, shut them, saved their lives, etc. The game-master would be able to view panels of statistics which showed several aspects to each pawn. Health, Will, Energy, Mental-Strength, and an Injury Inventory were to name the major ones. Steve couldn't quite tell so far if he would actually be able to see what was going on in the room, he had yet to see the gameboard, but from what he'd gotten from this book—he would, but probably not in the way he expected.

Apparently, the main goal was to get to the center of the hexagonal maze. It was a game of strategy, using the pawns to their best ability to try and get all of them to the center. Steve'd have to open certain doors and close others, like some sort of gigantic puzzle.

But it wasn't going to be as easy as a maze. Opening a door in order to travel to the center was often dangerous. Most of the doors opened long empty hallways, but all of the routes that Steve had mapped had to go through at least a dozen rooms, if not more. Sometimes going through one room opened several new doors, but the failure to open the door by completing a task inside could also trap other pawns by closing doors. As well as the rooms themselves, the offensive gamemaster would be working against him by closing doors, manipulating what happens inside a room, unleashing extra challenges or temptations to the pawns, or actually inflicting a blow or two on the pawns themselves directly.

Not all of the news was bad, thank god—Steve was getting more horrified and desperate for a new escape plan as he kept reading—some of the stuff he read was helpful and good news. Some of the rooms were filled with beds (non-rigged won't suffocate you in your sleep beds), or simply a room with a single pedestal with food. Others contained medical supplies, and some rooms linked pawns to one another so they could potentially work together. However, there wasn't even telling if upon entry to a room that the pawns would eat the bread offered out of stubbornness or suspicion. All Steve could do was watch and pray and hope they would eat.

Steve had a few tactical plans, but he really didn't know what he was going to be up against until after the game started. The main plans were to get Tony reunited with his suit, and Thor with his hammer. They could hopefully cause enough controlled destruction to break free of the maze and end the game by default. Another plan was to get Banner to NOT Hulk out. He could cause some serious damage, and while that was good, Alpha could very easily turn Hulk against the rest of his team and direct him to kill each other. The plan for Banner was to move him as quick as possible to any sort of medical supply room and then around the compound to help out the other members of the team if they were hurt. Clint and Natasha had some very basic S.H.I.E.L.D. medical training, but beyond that—the rest of the team had very minimal knowledge of what to do, say, when someone had a punctured lung or something like that. Clint and Natasha were going to be aimed towards the rooms with weapons supplies, so they had something to defend themselves with. While both were very formidable melee fighters, Clint was more of a distance fighter and even Natasha could get hit every once and a while—as Steve had just seen earlier.

…in short, his strategy sucked. While he was all about a plan of attack—which didn't involve just attack—and setting up a good ring to take down an objective enemy, Steve had never been good a chess. The pawns always felt like real people he was sacrificing for the play—he just couldn't make those critical moves in order to take the checkmate. Now, guess what? The pawns in the life-sized chess-game were real people now, real sacrifices he'd be unable to make for the goal of the game. This wasn't going to work—he was going to kill them all—

Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Steve lifted his head from where he had buried it in his hands. That tapping had gone on for a while now. At first, he had assumed it was part of the creaking noise the insanely heavy metal walls were making, but—this tapping was repetitive, ringing, and light. Light as if it was made from a…

…hand.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

S.

Taptaptap.

O.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

S.

Steve stood very quickly. A silence filled the room, as if the tapper was waiting for a response. After a minute or so of Steve standing stock still and listening hard—the tapping began again, Steve pinpointing it almost instantly. He knew Thor wouldn't know the Morse-code, and he would be surprised yet not if Tony or Bruce did—which left Clint and Natasha, Clint whom had looked rather drugged the last time Steve had seen him. Which meant…?

Steve walked slowly over to the wall where he had last seen Natasha. He slowly put his ear to the wall, exhaling gently.

—taptap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound was definitely louder here. Steve swallowed, eyes bright with the most cautious of excitement, trying to remember the code frantically. It came back to him in a flash, and with another slow exhale, Steve slid down the wall with his ear still to the metal and placed a knuckle on the wall.

... - ... The person was saying. ... - ...

... . .-.. .-.. - ..-...

(Hello?) He asked.

Steve waited, breath bated, knuckles pulling off the wall and ears twitching at the slightest sound.

There was a long silence. Steve was nearly about to tap again, when—

.- ... - / .. ... / - ... .. ... ..-..

(Who is this?)

Steve let out a breath he hadn't even known he had been holding.

... - . ...- .

(Steve)

There was an even longer silence than the first.

.- ... .- - / .- .- ... / - ... . / .-.. .- ... - / - ... .. -. -. / .. / ... .- .. -.. / - - / -.- - ..- ..-..

(What was the last thing I said to you?)

-. - - ... .. -. -. / ... .- .. -.. .-.-.- / -.- - ..- / -.. .-. . .- / .. - .-.-.-

(Nothing said. Drew it.)

Silence. The next few minutes were long and painstaking as the message was slowly tapped out in reply (in fear that the other would miss it)

... - .- / -.. - / -.- - ..- / -.- -. - .- / .- ... - / .. / .- - / .. ..-. / -.- - ..- / .- .-. . / ... - . ...- . ..-..

(How do you know who I am, if you are Steve?)

He drew back, shocked. That was a very good point. It was also very clever.

- -. . / .- .- -.- / - .. .-. .-. - .-. .-.-.- / .. / -.-. .- -. / ... . . / .- .-.. .-.. / - ... . / - . .- - .-.-.-

(One way mirror) He explained. (I saw all the team)

His grammar was getting poor, but he was trying to get the message across fast before she lost interest in what he had just suggested to be the enemy.

Silence.

-. .- - .- ... ... .- .-.-.-

(Natasha.)

Silence.

-... .-. ..- -.-. . / .- -. -.. / .. / -.-. .- .-.. .-.. / -.- - ..- / -. .- - .- ... ... .- .-.-.- (Bruce and I call you Natasha).

Silence.

- ... - .-. / -.-. .- .-.. .-.. ... / -.- - ..- / - ... . / .-. . -.. -...- ... .- .. .-. . -.. / .- .- .-. .-. .. - .-. / ... - - . - .. - . ... .-.-.-

(Thor calls you the red-haired warrior sometimes)

Silence.

-.-. .-.. .. -. - / -.-. .- .-.. .-.. ... / -.- - ..- / -. .- - .-.-.-

(Clint calls you Nat.)

.- -. -.. / - - -. -.- / -.-. .- .-.. .-.. ... / -.- - ..- / -. .- - .- .-.. .. . / -... -.- / .- -.-. -.-. .. -.. . -. - / ... - - . - .. - . ... .-.-.- / .. / -.. - -. .-. - / -.- -. - .- / .- ... -...- -...-

(Tony calls you Natalie sometimes. Don't know wh—)

A soft tapping cut him off.

... - . ...- .

(Steve.)

It was a greeting this time.

-. .- - .- ... ... .- .-.-.-

(Natasha.)

.- ... .- - / .. ... / -. - .. -. -. / - -. ..-..

(What is going on?)

.- .-.. .-. ... .- .-.-.- / -.- - ..- / .- . .-. . / .-. .. -. ... –

(Alpha. You were right.)

Silence.

... - .- / -.. - . ... / ... .-.-.- ... .-.-.- .. .-.-.- . .-.-.- .-.. .-.-.- -.. .-.-.- / -.- -. - .- / ... .. - ..-..

(How does S.H.I.E.L.D. know him?)

The response came back slow and deliberate.

- ..- .-. -.. . .-. . .-. .-.-.-

(Murderer.)

Silence.

... - ..- -. -.. ... / .-. .. -. ... - .-.-.- (Sounds right.)

- .. - . ..-..

(Time?)

-.. - -. .-. - / -.- -. - .- .-.-.- / .-.. .. - - .-.. . .-.-.-

(Don't know. Little.)

They were both tapping fast, deleting unnecessary words. They both knew that they needed to exchange as much information as possible before time was up.

..-. .- -.-. .. -. -. / .- .- .-.. .-.. -..- / -. - / - -. . / - - / -.- - ..- .-. / .-.. . ..-. - .-.-.- / -.-. .-.. .. -. - / - -. / .-. .. -. ... - .-.-.- / -. - / - -. . / -... . ... .. -. -.. .-.-.- / - . / .. -. / ..-. .-. - -. - .-.-.-

(Facing wall, no one to your left. Clint on right. No one behind. Me in front.)

-.-. .-.. .. -. - ..-..

(Clint?)

-.-. .-.. .. -. - .-.-.-

(Clint.)

-. - / .- -. ... .- . .-. / - -. / .- .- .-.. .-.. / -... . ..-. - .-. . .-.-.-

(No answer on wall before.)

.. / -.-. .- -. .-. - / ... . . / .- -. -.- - - .-. . .-.-.-

(I can't see anymore).

Silence, before Steve added—

-.. .-. ..- -. -. . -.. ..-..

(Drugged?)

- .- -.- -... . .-.-.-

(Maybe.)

Silence.

-. .- - . ..-..

(Game?) Natasha asked.

Long pause.

-.- . ... .-.-.-

(Yes.) Steve tapped eventually.

-... .- -.. ..-..

(Bad?)

Steve hesitated.

...- . .-. -.- .-.-.-

(Very.)

A very long silence followed, only broken by a muffled thump that might've been a head falling back against metal in weariness. Then—

- . .-.. .-.. / - . / . ...- . .-. -.- - ... .. -. -. .-.-.-

(Tell me everything.)

And Steve did.

---

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Just a Game.

.- .- .-.. .-.. / - .- .-. ...

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

---

Steve stared unblinkingly across the table at Alpha. Neither man moved. Both were sitting in the metal chairs across from each other. Steve's face was a carefully stoic blank, while Alpha watched him with the faintest of smirks whisping across his face.

"I could punish you two—or was it three towards the end?—for that," Alpha said eventually, unlocking their gaze and moving to fiddle with his chess-piece he so fondly seemed to carry.

Steve said nothing.

"I could make this game ten times harder than it already is—" He continued, rolling the piece between two fingers "—and insure that all of them died and you to become the only one to escape with the guilt of their deaths on your shoulders."

Silence.

Alpha sighed, looking disappointed by Steve's stoic quiet. "But I won't. Because you're already so terribly outmatched, I want to give you the slightest chance of hope of success—it makes the game so much more fun."

Steve knew he was going to say something like that, from the whole way he had started the conversation with a 'could,' but still couldn't help the tiny sigh of what might have been relief as the verdict came.

"—so instead—"

Steve groaned mentally.

"—I'll just take this," the book flew out of Steve's grasp and slid across the table, much to the soldier's eye widening surprise, into Alpha's waiting hand which stopped it with a light tap. The old man looked up from the cover of the book, a mock sympathetic look crossing his face. "Oh, I do hope you finished the book before this—surely you didn't talk to your little assassin friends before you finished your reading? Because I was sure there was some information in the back you might have found useful…"

Steve grit his teeth, stopping himself from lunging across the table and either taking the book back or punching the man numerous times in the face. Upon Alpha's unannounced entry to the room, Steve had been in mid tap to Natasha. He had explained most of what he knew to her, and she was apparently passing it on to Barton, who was in the slow process of passing it on to Banner—who apparently had a very basic and rough understanding of Morse-code as well. Taken almost completely by surprise, Steve had stood, book in one hand, fist forming in the other—giving the wall a sharp backhand in warning to the listener. Alpha hadn't even stopped walking before he flicked a hand and sent Steve, who was readying his first plan of overpowering Alpha to escape, flying into the opposite side of the room and effectively away from his line of communication (where he could faintly make out faint and rapid worry raps).

So, apparently there was mutant involvement in the castle siege.

"Well, moving on from that," Alpha continued, tracing a finger over the leather book cover, before glancing back up, "I think it's time to start our little game, don't you think?"

"I agree," Steve replied through gritted teeth. As if he could say anything otherwise.

"Good," Alpha replied happily. He flipped his chess piece over from his holding it upside down before placing it in a slight indention that Steve had not noticed before in the metal table. As soon as the king-piece connected with the table, the table flickered to life, making Steve stand up quickly, nervously.

Some sort of hologram popped to life across the table, fanning out and growing to about six inches off the table in such detail that Steve knew would impress even Stark. Somewhere in the back of his mind, as Steve shot an 'I-was-not-startled-I-was-just-surveying-the-gameboard' look at Alpha's amused glance, he knew that Alpha was trying to mess with his head. Taking away the book to make him second-guess his decisions, making the room a cold to the point where he could see his own breath and be reminded of his own icy plummet years back, placing the lives of his teammates in an unfair game in which he was almost certainly going to lose, and using some sort of hologram as the gameboard—such an advanced technology that he drew a complete blank about.

Steve wasn't quite sure how he could fight it though. His best option was just ignore it, pretend like it didn't give him chills when he touched the holographic projection, or that he knew that whenever the next time he got to sleep was that he might not even be able to in this cold in fear that he might wake up another hundred years in the future.

Moving closer to the gameboard, Steve took a good look, almost flinching in surprise when he saw the tiny figures of his teammates—little holographic figures—pacing around their rooms. Stark was examining his wall, the one Steve had literally been thrown into, Thor was still pacing, and Banner, Clint and Natasha were all going between walls, trying to tap and talk to one another. Steve felt a small smile cross his lips and watched a scowl cross the old man's.

"Looks like you made an impact on them," Alpha said, voice strangely twisted—the first time Steve had heard him sound irritated.

"Looks like I did," Steve said neutrally, careful not to show his pleasure at Alpha's irritation too much—that might be deadly.

There was a silence, a brooding one, and Steve masked his smile by reaching forward with his head bent down and tapped the top of Tony's miniaturized head. Instantly a floating panel appeared over the man's head, making Steve draw back his hand quickly like he might be shocked. The pawn-Tony didn't seem to notice, still kicking the wall lightly and pacing back and forth. Flicking his eyes back towards the new panel, Steve recognized it as the meters displaying the different health stats—which he worriedly assessed until he saw that Tony's stats were fairly full/normal. According to the book, most of the stats would never be at full. Everything would naturally fluctuate. As the day went on and you ran on less sleep, your energy bar would fall—or as you became frustrated or tired your will bar might fall too. Confusion for the mental-bar, hunger for the health and energy—everything was connected with one another.

"Oh, yes, yes," Alpha interrupted Steve's thoughts, "I forgot. You can look at that stuff on the panel right below your left hand," he said, waving his hand dismissively and causing Steve to look down in confusion at his said left hand. "It'd ruin the aura if a fight-scene took place and we were trying to watch while big panels floated above the fighter's heads."

Oh, yes—it'd be a huge nuisance if my view of watching my team fight for their lives was blocked. Steve wanted to say, but didn't—not keeping a hold of his tongue was more of a person-he-was-watching-as-a-mini's (Tony's) thing. Instead, he sat down in the chair, taking his hand off the panel Alpha had mentioned and watching as it flickered to life. This panel ran all along the edge of the hexagonal table, only lit up for about half-of the one end of the table that Steve was sitting behind. The rest of the panel was faded out black, while the lit up part was displaying five square boxes. Each box had a name, a 2D figure of the person who went with the name, and their stats. Steve could almost trick himself for a second into thinking this was some sort of videogame or simulation—that these weren't actually real people and that Alpha was just tricking him into thinking so.

He almost thought for a second, as Alpha told him they were to start, and Steve glanced nervously at the 2D map on the panel under his fingertips where he would make his first move, that it was just a game.

But then he remembered the walls. He remembered how when the steel that could withstand even a punch from Thor would not budge—that their strong ability to keep anything from escaping was shattered by a single light tap and he knew that this was no game.

So with Alpha staring him down, small smile back and playing on his lips, Steve made the first move.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

If there was anything that Tony hated more than, um, other, more hateful stuff—it was being trapped. His time in Afghanistan made the dislike/hatred even worse, those weeks in that tiny blasted cave had made confinement one of Tony's notches on things he strongly disliked. He hated being in one place for too long, and especially when no one would let him out/go/wouldn't FREAKING SHOW THEIR FACES AFTER TWENTY SOMETHING STRAIGHT HOURS.

Well, it was actually more like five hours—but boredom and irritation and a slight sense of déjà vu were consuming his mind. If he didn't get out of here soon, he was going to go absolutely insane.

"ARGH." Torn out of pacing my complete and utter frustration, Tony viciously kicked the wall to his left.

And nearly broke his foot.

"Damnit," Tony hissed, pushing himself off the wall and hobbling on one foot. "Goddammit. GOD. FREAKING. DAMMIT. What does it take to get to talk to the likely masked and incredibly stupid MANAGER around here?"

As if on cue, the door on the opposite side of the room slid open with a faint hiss.

Tony whirled around, staring at the now opened door and hopefully route to escape. He raised his eyes, rolling them in exasperation, and his hands flew up dramatically. "Thank you. THANK. YOU. Finally. Took long enough."

He wasn't stupid though. Tony waited a few seconds for someone to come through, or the room inside to explode, before cautiously making his way to the now open door peering out without stepping a single inch outside the room. Left, right—nothing. It was just a long hallway, lit by florescent swinging lights that one might find in a school classroom. Idiots. Who in their goddammed right mind would give him florescent lights if they wanted to live? But, making an atomic bomb out of florescent lights would have to wait. This hallway seemed long, and also appeared to be lacking doors. Huh, well—Tony stuck his neck outside the door to try see better—

"HOLY—" Tony swore violently as the door almost snapped shut on his neck. He leapt back from the door, eyeing the closed metal door with malice. "ARE YOU TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME?" He yelled at the ceiling, knowing somehow they were probably listening. "DO YOU WANT ME OUT OF THIS ROOM OR NOT?"

"Not," Alpha sneered at the tiny-little mini-figure of Tony, Steve still staring wide-eyed at the board game with his heart going a mile-a-minute. He did NOT see that coming. He shot a still rather 'oh-my-god-did-that-really-almost-just-happen?' glare in the older man's direction.

"Not the fairest of tactics," He hissed. Well, at least now Tony would be warned to move through doors quickly or not at all.

"But a quick game ender," Alpha replied, looking amused. "I wonder if I could actually kill all five of Earth's mightiest heroes minus Captain with a bit of door-play."

Steve fumed and made his move to reopen Stark's door.

The door reopened. Stark glared at it, crossing his arms. Did they really expect him to go for the door after that? That his curiosity and boredom would get the better of him so they could try and cut him in half again? Well, they were dead right—but they weren't going to half-him anytime soon.

Darting across the door frame, Tony had the second to shoot a glance over his shoulder and watch as the door snapped shut—ruffling his shirt with the strong breeze created. He glared faintly at the door before giving a huff and walking forward, shadow long under the florescent lights. It'd take more than a freaking door to kill him.

Irritation subsiding, Tony rubbed the back of his head, running a hand along the large scabbing gash beneath his head. He let out a shaky exhale, steps faltering for a moment, pulling to an unsteady halt as the whole reason, the whole memory, for the gash in the first place rushed back. Then he forced the memory away, let a hard look cross his face, and began walking, one foot in front of the other, again.

But the memory, despite all he did to ignore it, was still there.

---

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR AWESOMNESS! 3 Never, ever, have I seen so many favorites/story alerts in my inbox. :'3 I'm going to keep this brief because I want to get this up before my ride gets here so I can post it up ASAP!

This chapter was originally going to be a thousand or so words longer-a flashback on what memory Tony's thinkin' of-but I decided to move it to the next chapter because I waaaaaasn't quite happy wiht it and I have like zero-time. xD SO, here we go!

IN RESPONSE TO YOUR REVIEWS
To The Darkness of Your Fall: You are very welcome! ^^ And hehe, that was my intention-I almost didn't reveal that she wasn't until the this chapter, but I decided against it so I wouldn't be shot. xD Thanks for your review!
To KelpBass: Thanks! Glad you are enjoying it. :3
To Miss America of the USA: Why thank you! I'll try. ;) But I can't make any promises.
To StarkObsessed: Well, ya' got your wish! Kinda. xD Thank you so much for your compliment and review!
To LaughsAtThunder: Omgosh you have no idea how much your review cracked me up. I spent the night doing an all nighter working on my Dad's birthday gift-and everytime I got frustrated/tired I would go read your comment and get all happy again. :D BEST REVIEW AWARD-RIGHT HERE. Thanks!
To : :DDDD I'm so happy I inspired movement! I do the same thing, so I'm glad my story was good enough to get you to write! Thanks for your review!
To Dalekgirl: I'm working on that. I get lost a bit too. xD That's the original picture I kinda had as well!-but it sorta morphed into this. xD I'm doing a concept sort of like what you mentioned, but I want them to keep their free will. Makes it a lot more interesting at some parts-trust me. :3
To JohnCorn: YOU ARE SO RIGHT. I must develop that... :3 (on both points)

Until next time! (gotta go!)
-Fleet of the Wind