Semi-AU where Max and Chloe have never met before and Max's powers work just a bit differently. Specifically the visions. Follows parallel to some parts of the game. Paraphrasing here and there unless I can find direct dialogue.

It was raining heavily. She could hear it hitting the cold ground beside her and could feel it pelting her face harshly. Light flashed before her eyelids and the loud crash of thunder startled her awake. She squinted her eyes against the heavy rain that poured down her face and soaked her clothes. Her heart started beating erratically in her chest and she looked around in a panic.

W...where am I? She thought. What's happening?

She pushed herself up from the dirt. The wind pierced her clothing like a blade and whipped about her, riddling her body with harsh chills and practically cutting at her face. She wrapped her arms around herself.

I'm trapped in a storm? How did I get here? And...where is here?

She turned her attention about to try and make sense of her location until something caught her eye. The lighthouse towered ominously against the darkened, cloud riddled sky in the distance, it's shadow casting out into the forest.

Wait... There's the lighthouse. She thought. I'll be safe if I can make it there... I hope... She winced to herself. Please let me make it there...

She lifted her arm to shield herself as best she could from the wind. She took slow, careful steps forward as to not slip on the mud developing right underneath her feet. The wind howled in her ears, the rain slammed down on her back and head relentlessly.

Come on, Max, you can make it...

She took her final step up towards the lighthouse and looked out to sea, her eyes widening at the sight of the massive tornado barreling in on the town.

Holy shit.

The wind took up a boat to the sky, steering it straight into the lighthouse with an ear splitting crash and breaking it in two. It was with a groan that the top of the lighthouse leaned over as if in slow motion, not appearing deterred at all by the harsh whips of hair blowing around it. It wasn't until the structure started falling faster that it dawned on Max it was about to crush her. She put her arms up in fear over her head.

Woah! No!-

-Max's breath caught in her throat when her head shot up from the desk. Her heart felt ready to burst from her chest with how hard it was beating. Her eyes squinted against the light around her for a moment. There was a ringing in her ears that took its sweet time going away as she looked around to take in her surroundings.

Woah... That was so surreal...

Her teacher's voice finally broke through the ringing in her ears and she looked to the front of the class to properly blink him into focus.

"...Alfred Hitchcock famously called film 'little pieces of time' but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was." Mark Jefferson was going on with his lesson and, by the looks of it, no one had noticed Max's little... episode? Much to her relief.

Okay... I'm in class...

She surveyed the room again, watching her classmates. This was a time where she was glad she chose to sit in the back of the class. No one was paying attention to her, though no one really did that anyway unless it was to mess with her. Plus, being in the back let her see everything ahead of her. She saw as Stella's pen hit the floor and she reached down to pick it up.

Everything's cool... I'm okay...

"These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow; from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro..." Mr. Jefferson went on.

Something sailed across the room in the direction of Kate Marsh's face. A paper ball sent by Taylor Christensen, one of Victoria Chase's cronies. Seeing that alone pissed Max off. Kate was such a sweet girl. She didn't deserve to be treated that way.

"Now can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?" Mr. Jefferson asked his class. "Anyone? Bueller?"

A few table's away, a phone vibrated. Victoria's. The buzzing alone reminded Max again of the electricity charged atmosphere in... whatever the hell she'd just experienced. She sat back in her chair and her expression scrunched up in thought.

I didn't fall asleep, and... that sure didn't feel like a dream... Weird.

"Diane Arbus."

Victoria's voice tore Max from her reverie once more and she picked her head up slightly.

"There you go, Victoria." Mr. Jefferson praised. "Why Arbus?"

"Because of her images of hopeless faces." Victoria said. "You feel, like, totally haunted by the eyes of those mothers and children."

Jefferson's smile at Victoria's answer almost made Max sick. She rolled her eyes.

"She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it's bullshit." Mr. Jefferson chuckled at the snickers from the class and raised his hand in a shushing manner. "Shh, keep that to yourself. Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious?" He stood up a bit straighter. "What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty and innocence? She had a brilliant eye, so she could have taken another approach."

"I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of her work." Victoria said. Max silently scoffed to herself, As if anyone asked. "I prefer... Robert Frank."

"Me too, Victoria." Mr. Jefferson said. "He captured the essence of post-war, beat America. And there was honesty about the economic conditions of the era, but a beauty in the struggle. You don't have beauty without a beat. Which explains why Frank was Kerouac's photographic muse and both were great chroniclers of the 1950s." He stopped to think for a moment. "Well... We've all seen that iconic shot of Kerouac on the balcony - and if you haven't, shame, shame - capturing the romantic urban solitude of the 20th-century poet. You dig?" It was almost comedic how he was trying to sound cool. It made Max laugh a little. "Now, contrast Frank's stark Americana with Salvador Dali's surrealist photographs. Like Cocteau, he was a true renaissance man, and his famous self-portraits are famous early examples of that truly awful word you pesky kids love so much, the 'selfie.'" And it's a great tradition, and I wholeheartedly fight for your right to self-expression. Or selfie-expression." Groan.

"Heh, sorry, I know." Mr. Jefferson continued. "So if anybody wants to question the portrait as modern narcissism, they could go back hundreds of years to blame society. Speaking of questions, I bet you thought I'd talk all the way until the bell rang. It's your turn to lecture us. Now, based on the chapters I have no doubt you all memorized, who can tell me the neame of the actual process that led to the birth of the self-portrait? Anybody?" Mr. Jefferson looked around at the mostly blank expressions of his students and heaved a light sigh, shaking his head. "This does not bode well. Just jump right in with an answer. This was in the chapters your read. You did read the chapters, right?" There's a beat. "Your silence is deafening. If this were a photo, I'd call it a still life."

Max inadvertedly drowned Jefferson out and lowered her eyes to the photo poking out from underneath her book. The photo meant to be entered into the Everyday Heroes contest. Her nose crinkled up at the reminder alone and she reached for the picture, sliding it out slowly from under her book.

Look at this crap! How can I show this to Mr. Jefferson? She sighed. I can hear the class laughing at me now...

She tossed the photo back onto the desk lazily and looked to her camera settled beside her belongings on the desk. Silently, almost compelled in a curious way, she reached out and picked it up. Sitting back in her chair Max adjusted the camera in her lap and tilted the lens up at her face. Her finger hovers over the button before it presses down as if on its own accord. There was a click, flash, and a whirring sound as the camera spit out the polaroid.

"Shh, I believe Max has taken what you kids call a 'selfie.'" Mr. Jefferson said. Max's face flushed deep red; she could practically feel everyone's eyes on her. "A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Max... has a gift." What? "Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800s. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie expression. ...Sorry, I couldn't resist." He dismissed the pun with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around." He turned his attention to Max and at an instant she wanted to sink under the desk. "Now, Max, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?"

Max felt her ears start to burn. He feet shuffled under the desk and she stumbled around in her brain for an answer. "I... I did know, but I kinda forgot..." She muttered with an inward flinch.

Jefferon's hand came down on the table he was settled on. "You either know this or not, Max." He said. Yeah, I wouldn't buy that either. "Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?"

Victoria raised her hand. "Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created "daguerreotypes", a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror." She turned to Max with the most taunting look on her face. "Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Sad Face."

I'll show you Retro- Max thought as Taylor laughed beside Victoria.

"Very good, Victoria." Jefferson said. "The Daguerreian Process brought out fine details in people's faces, making them extremely popular from the 1800s onward. The first American daguerreotype self-portrait was done by Robert Cornelius. You can find out all about him in your textbook. Or even... online."

The bell rang overhead and the class set into motion gathering up their belongings and getting to their feet.

"And guys, don't forget about the deadline to submit a photo in the 'Everyday Heroes' contest.' Mr. Jefferson reminded them. "I'll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be feted by the art word. It's greata exposure and it can kickstart a career in photography. So Stella and Alyssa, get it together. Taylor, don't hide, I'm still waiting on your entry photo too. And yes, Max, I see you pretending not to see me."

The rest of the class filtered out save for a Kate and Victoria. Victoria simply sauntered over to Mr. Jefferson much to Max's disgust. Victoria doesn't waste a second kissing ass...

Max hung back for a moment, more or less eavesdropping on Victoria's conversation with Mr. Jefferson. She feigned interest in the stuff Mr. Jefferson had around the room, from the cameras to the books that lined the shelves on the wall as she listened.

"Yes, Victoria, you still have to do your homework this week, even if you're submitting your photo for the competition." Jefferson explained. Go figure Victoria was trying to get special treatment. "Everybody in class is turning n a photo, so you see the dilemma."

"I know, Mr. Jefferson." Victoria said, faking a slight whine in her tone that made Max want to gag. "I just worked so hard on this shot, and I'm sure you know what it's like to be consumed by your work. I just really think 'Everyday Heroes' is an important cultural event and I want to represent Blackwell Academy."

Yeah, because you're the face we need representing the school... Max scoffed mentally.

"You have just by participating, by putting yourself out there in the world." Jefferson said. "Well, no matter who wins, this is just a bump on a bigger road. I don't want anybody to feel excluded from this process. But I also want everybody to know that this photographic world is not for everybody. I had my moment in the camera eye and everybody should have the chance, right?"

Max's lips quirked with a smile at his words. Mr. Jefferson really did see promise in his pupils, huh? Which is more than could be said for most teachers. And while a part of Max really wanted to be that person to have the chance in the camera's eye, she still had that slightly sickening gut feeling that her skills could hardly match those of her peers.

"Oh, totally. I only want to share whatever gifts I have with the world." Victoria said.

And that's when Max decided she'd heard enough of Victoria's bullshit. She approached them slowly, leaning over to catch Jefferson's eye with her hand raised a little. "Excuse me, Mr. Jefferson?" she said. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Victoria gave her a scornful look of disdain, her nose crinkling with disgust. "Yes, excuse you." She began.

"No, Victoria, excuse us." Mr. Jefferson interrupted, much to Max's pleasure in seeing Victoria's look shift to one of shocked hurt. "I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture."

With that downright pissing Victoria off, she gave a rather haughty huffed and all but stormed out of the room. Max could still feel her lingering distaste that somehow managed to leave a chill in her wake and make her shiver slightly.

"Do I have to..?" Max went on to respond to Jefferson. "I just don't think it's that big a deal..."

"Ma, you're a better photographer than a liar." Mr. Jefferson said. Max's face flushed a little. "Now I know it's a drag to hear some old dude lecture you, but life won't wait for you to play catch-up. You're young, the world is yours, blah, blah, blah, right?" He gestures to her. "But youdo have a gift, you have the fever to take images, to frame the world only the way yoyu envision it. Now all you need is the courage to share your gift with others. That's what separates the artist...from the amateur."

Max took his words with great consideration. He.. had a point, she supposed. And if he believed that she had promise, then maybe she shouldn't spend so much time putting herself down over what she perceived as lack of skill. "Thank you, Mr. Jefferson.." She murmured, which earned her a smile.

"You're very welcome, Max." Jefferson said. He held up a finger at her. "Now don't keep me waiting for that picture much longer, understand?"

With a nod and small smile returned, Max exited the class. She stepped out into the hallway and settled beside the door of the class for a second, just surveying her surroundings. Welcome to the real world...

She could overhear some of the other students, including some that she knew or at least recognized, as they spoke amongst themselves and she couldn't keep herself from listening in for a little. Starting with Juliet and her boyfriend Zachary as they walked by.

"You didn't tell me how cute I looked yet." Juliet said, disappointment dripping from her words.

"I was about to." Zachary said. Max thought he was lying through his teeth. "You always look cute." Well, that was true. Max wouldn't deny that she was just a little envious of Juliet's looks. But not in a vain sort of way, either. Max always saw herself as just.. plain. Basic. While almost every other girl (excluding Victoria and her cronies, because no amount of make-up could make up for their ugly personalities) had something attractive about them. With the rock that started to sink in her stomach, Max relieved herself of those thoughts.

"Just cute?" Juliet said.

"Hot."

"Then I might send you a special picture during class."

Max grimaced. At least that was one thing she had going for her. Being plain meant no one was wanting - ahem - pictures from her. And speaking of the devils from earlier...

"Why would anybody want to carry around a dorky instamatic?" she heard Courtney scoff from a few feet away.

Dread filled Max's body. She knew they were talking about her and it was only confirmed further when Victoria spoke.

"Because Max wants everybody to see how hip she is." The amount of disgust in Victoria's voice could make anyone nauseous just from the sound. It certainly made Max so just a little.

It wasn't true, either. Max didn't particularly care about being part of a 'scene' (and by that, she didn't care about having a "thing" like being preppy or cool or whatever). It just so happened that she ended up in the hipster scene and had a love for polaroid cameras. There was something about those kind of photos to her. Something more intimate and, for lack of a better word, instant. They captured moments better than any digital camera ever could.

"She's so fucking shy she takes selfies with a giant camera." Taylor said.

Aaand that's enough of that. Max thought.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone and headphones, hardly needing to detangle them before she stuck them in her ears and started playing To All of You by Syd Matters, one of her favorite songs that, yes, probably qualified her as a hipster even more. I need a serious timeout in the bathroom... Splash water on my face and make sure I don't look like a total loser...

So that's where she headed. Slipping effortlessly by the students passing her or just taking up space in the hallway as they talked to their friends like no else needed to get somewhere. She decidedly ignored everyone and focused solely on the song in her ears until she'd safely made her way to the bathroom and eased her way inside. With about as fresh of a breath as she can get in a school bathroom, Max took out her headphones and sighed. Empty. Good. Nobody can see my meltdown.. except for me.

Max made her way over to the sinks but not without a glance at the graffiti scrawled out on the mirrors, giving her glasses, a mustache, and a crown that she kinda found amusing for a second. She turns the sink on cold and bends down, cupping her hands undr the rush to fill her palms and splash the water up into her face. After turning the sink off, she stands back and leans against the basic for a second to stare at her reflection under the graffiti mask before reaching into her bag for the polaroid photo. It was a simple photo of the back of Max's head in front of her polaroid wall in her room, accented with fairy lights that cast a warm autumn-like tone. It had the impression of a filter on it despite that not being so and Max did like the picture in a personal sense. However, that didn't keep her from thinking that it still wasn't enough to turn in for a competition.

Just relax... she thought. Stop torturing yourself. You have 'a gift...'

A beat.

"Fuck it."

With both hands braced on either edge of the photo, there was a satisfying ripping sound as she tore the photo in half and let it fall to the floor without a second thought. Maybe she would regret this decision later, but for now it felt good to let go of what she considered a pathetic attempt to call herself an 'everyday hero.'

As she picked her head up, she caught sight of movement in her peripheral vision and turned to spot a blue butterfly making its way from the window and down towards the janitorial space beside the stalls. Intrigue caught Max's senses and she followed after it. When a door closes, a window opens... Or, something like that. She found the butterfly settled on the edge of a bucket and a smile touched her lips lightly. Okay girl, you don't get a photo opt like this everyday...

As slow and quietly as possible, Max reached into her bag for her camera and prepped it open, kneeling down carefully and lifting the camera to her eyes. Through the lens she could see the butterfly ruffle its wings a bit and resettle on the bucket, making her freeze for a moment to make sure it wasn't going to fly away before snapping the photo. Thankfully, it waited until after the flash had gone off and the picture is in the process of being printed out before it took off from the bucket and disappeared behind Max. She got to her feet and held her hand up to the camera as the polaroid came out and pulled it gently until it was released, shaking it lightly for the image to reveal itself. She brought the photo to eye level and the beauty captured in it was enough to bring a genuine smile to her face; the most genuine she's had all week. The butterfly so beautifully poised at the edge of the bucket, the was the flash was so perfectly reflected in the metal of the bucket itself and highlighted the butterfly's wings in a truly mesmerizing manner... A picture she could truly feel proud of. As she went to safely tuck it away in her bag, she heard the bathroom door open and it came to her attention that she'd long overstayed her welcome in there. She was readying to leave, about to round the corner, when a voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"It's cool, Nathan..." The voice said breathlessly. Even without the name being spoken, his voice rang in a clearly recognizable way to Max and it chilled her blood. Nathan Prescott. What was he doing in the girls' bathroom? Max was sure that she didn't accidentally end up in the boys' and her unease only grew when he spoke again. "Don't stress... You're okay, bro. Just count to three. Don't be scared... You own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up..." Max felt a cold sweat develop at the back on her neck at that and she peeked carefully around the corner to spot him talking to himself leaning against the basin of the sink. He look freaked, scared. Nervous. "You're the boss."

Though the hammering of her heart in her ears, Max heard the door to the bathroom open again and her gaze moved to it just as a blue-haired girl entered with a clearly pissed off expression directed at Nathan. And while she knew this wasn't exactly the time for it, she couldn't keep herself from thinking that this girl was pretty attractive. Even with the look of annoyance etched into her features. She had a punk-rock kind of style that caught her attention, too, and made her think that if they girl stuck out that much, she would have surely seen her around if she attended the school. Max came to the conclusion that this girl didn't attend Blackwell and was only here to confront Nathan over something by the looks of it. Knowing Nathan's... problems, it made Max worry for this girl's wellbeing dealing with him.

"So what do you want?" Nathan greeted. His tone was edged in anger that clearly didn't faze the blue-haired punk.

"I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say." the girl said, knocking open a few stalls and Max held in a yelp as she ducked back behind the stall wall before either of them could see her. She figured the girl deemed the coast as clear when she heard her voice again. "Now, let's talk bidness-"

"I got nothing for you." Nathan interrupted.

"Wrong." the girl's voice was firm, a steady 'no bullshit' tone that made Max curious enough to look around the corner again. Chloe had moved in on him in a way that gave off a position of interrogating aggressively. "You got hella cash."

Nathan didn't bother to look at her. "That's my family, not me."

"Oh, boohoo, poor little rich kid." the girl pressed him further. "I know you been pumpin' drugs 'n' shit to kids around here... I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now-"

"Leave them out of this, bitch!" Nathan said, body going rigid with agitation. Max felt a chill up her spine.

The girl didn't stop. "I can tell everybody Nathan Precott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself-!"

Nathan pushed himself away from the sink and reached into the waistband of his pants, pulling out a gun and holding it to the girl's face. Max's eyes widened with fear and for a second she could swear she felt her heart stop. Oh shit, oh shit! She watched as Nathan advanced on the girl who had then put her hands up in surrender, cornering her against the bathroom door and pressing the barrel of the gun against her stomach.

"You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!" He warned through his teeth.

"W-where'd you get that?" the girl said. Whatever confidence she had before melted away to panic and fear. Even at the distance she was at, Max could see the terror in her eyes. "What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!"

"Don't EVER tell me what to do!" Nathan growled. He pushed the gun against her stomach again. "I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!"

"You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs-" the girl attempted to threaten, but the lack of bite in her words made it fall flat.

"Nobody would ever even miss you punk ass, would they?!"

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

It all happened in the span of a second to Max. The girl pushed Nathan off of her and -

BANG!

- the gun went off, firing a bullet right into the girl's gut as Nathan stumbled back, catching himself on the sink.

Max hardly saw herself react as she jumped out from behind the stall, hand outstretched and a cry of 'No!' as the girl's body started to fall limp to the floor, the gun clattered against the tile, and Nathan's head started to turn in her direction.

Everything slowed, and she wondered if it was her perception of how fast this had happened and her brain was just now processing it one excruciating second at a time. At least... that's what she thought until things started to move backwards. The girl's body righted itself as Nathan was repositioning himself before her with the gun finding its way back into his hand and against her stomach. She could even hear the sound of the gun going off reversing itself mere seconds before everything moved back faster and blended together leading into a brief flash of light.

Max's breath caught in her throat when her head shot up from the desk. Her heart felt ready to burst from her chest with how hard it was beating. Her eyes squinted against the light around her for a moment. There was a ringing in her ears that took its sweet time going away as she looked around to take in her surroundings.

She... was in class.

What the fuck?

And that's all for this chapter. We'll start delving more into AU territoy in the next chapter, but until then don't forget to follow, favorite, or review if you think this story is something you can get into and support. Please forgive any missed typos, I'm writing this on a shitty laptop and I can't be bothered at the moment I'm writing this to fight with this thing to go back and correct them. But I promise I will at some point, most likely before the second chapter is posted. Thank you for giving this story a chance, regardless.