Godlike: Troy of the Ancients

That’s what she wanted, he thought as he was typing away on his battered laptop. Savoring the words forming in not less than sixty seconds, he smirked as he tapped, not gently, on the period key and added the final sentence: Her breath I would surely miss.

He wondered why she could do such superficial act. It might have been a game only, but it was not his fault, not quite. And it almost cost him his life and if it weren’t for his cheats…

He had to choose. And he chose. He did not expect those three dominatrices would go ballistic at him for choosing a different woman. But it was the truth! And lying to them would have punishments worse than exile.

He remembered his brother. It was graphic and morbid what they did to his brother. His older brother was the mightiest of them all, and he taught him the things he needed to reach victory in this cruel, addictive game.

Bloody bitch. Bloody hags. The predicament that he had faced was turbulent, traumatizing even. But he couldn’t deny he was not unfortunate. The higher gods made sure of that.

The apple. That fucking golden apple.

He made a choice and it resulted to the biggest and longest war he could have been involved in. His brother was not spared, and so were the others. He could glimpse the memory stained with the phantasmagoria of death and misery, the wails of the innocent exploding from the fires. Yet he survived. He was victorious.

“Dinner’s ready,” his mother called from downstairs.


He glanced at the glaring screen.

Continue? it blinked.

He left his desk and skipped downstairs to the dining room.

“What were you doing there?” his.mother asked.

“Just playing.”

“What exactly?”

“Defense of the Ancients.”

He took a seat and immediately dug in at the mashed potatoes. The gravy boat was almost empty when he replaced it on the table. Two pork steaks lined his plate and it was almost gone after a few minutes.

“You didn’t invite Helen over.”

He didn’t need to respond to such impertinent statement.

“Paris, did you two break up?”

“Yes, mom–

“I told you to choose either Hera, Athena, or Aphrodite. You had to rebel. Look where it got you. What happened?”


For him it meant she was a cunt, but he couldn’t say that in front of hia mother. That reminded him…they were supposed to be crowned Troy State California High School Prom King and Queen tonight, but a more enticing invitation appeared early morning that day.

Paris received an email for a one-on-one battle with this particular user named achilles0023BC. He couldn’t resist the urge. That was the guy who humiliated his brother. He had to avenge.

The game started before dinner, just before he blogged about Helen and the three hags. It was magnificently easy. Not at first. Achilles0023BC was beating him to pulp in the first five minutes. And after that, the cyber guy mentioned that he was Helen’s new boyfriend. All the cheats he learned from his brother worked instantly as he typed away for the kill.

It wasn’t his persistence and his fury to satisfy his revenge that aided him on that long battle. The arrow of the Shadow Huntress from Styx did his wish. It was a one second kill. He won.

He won. Just.

Then he remembered his problem didn’t end there. Then again, he wouldn’t be receiving any more horses from anyone. His equestrian days are over.

And all this because of Helen.



~ by bipolarthespian13 on August 4, 2013.

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