Author's Note: Hey all you possible readers, this is my first attempt at self insert fiction, so please feel free to drop feedback, criticisms, whatever so that I can work on improving my writing. Plus feedback helps keep us writers going.
Oh God, my fucking head. Stark sunlight is piercing through the curtains, forcing me to roll over in a vain attempt to ignore it. 'Fuck it,' I think, 'may as well just get up and be miserable rather than lying here doing nothing.' Clawing my way out of bed, I acutely notice that I still reek of alcohol and cigarettes from last night's partying. 'God, shower time it is. I would say never again, but that would be a filthy lie wouldn't it Matt?' Hung-over me is more sarcastic than usual it seems.
Two strong cups of coffee later, (no food though, who needs breakfast when you can have caffeine?) some self-reflection in the shower, clothes that don't smell like tobacco and I'm ready to head out and do… 'Shit, nothing as usual. You don't even have work today, so aside from videogames or procrastinating on your university work, you've got free time. Which leaves… hanging out with your mates. Sound planning Matt, ten outta ten.' Snatching my keys off the desk, I roll out, sucking in the humid air outside. Summer in New Zealand is pretty nice mind you, but sometimes it helps if the air conditioning in your car works. Cresting the top of the path, my shitty Mitsubishi Lancer awaits, dents, rust and all - Glorious.
With only the slightest coughs of protest, the Lancer chugs to life, I slap it in first and off we roll. Ten minutes later I'm steaming along the highway, heat waves conjuring small shimmering mirages in front of me 'Damn, today really is going to be a scorcher.' Checking my mirrors, I notice a Skyline coming up fast behind me 'Shit he's going fast, I'm already doing 120kph, hope he doesn't do anything dumb.' Boy does he deliver on that. Without even indicating, he swings onto the incoming lane to pass me… just as a goddamn truck comes barreling over the horizon towards him.
'You're an idiot!' I scream internally, immediately slowing so that he can get past me and into the lane again. Except he doesn't move into the lane, instead choosing to slam his own brakes on tires screaming as they lock and lose traction. With things spiralling down the proverbial fucking rabbit hole, I speed back up to get some distance from this lunatic. At that point his car crunches into mine with a finality that sends me cold. The forward inertia I have does exactly as physics intended, and keeps going, but now my car is slideways, tipping, rolling. I'm being pulled out of my seat as the car throws me around, I only have time to yell a single "Fuck" before I brutally realise 'Oh god, the truck.'
A cool breeze tickles my skin, goose bumps forming on my arms 'Should have dressed warmer, you egg. Good thing you always keep a jacket in your car.' Wait, my car! I jerk upwards, fully awake and alert, adrenaline pumping as they events of the last sixty seconds come rushing back to me. Hands clammy and shaking, I suddenly come to a realisation; 'I'm alive and with no good reason or explanation for it. Well shit.' Cracking my neck, I take in my surroundings. A grimy alleyway or avenue of sorts, trash and other detritus scattered haphazardly around. Surprisingly, the ground isn't concrete or asphalt, but instead… an alloy of some kind. Glancing upwards, I don't recognise any of the stars above, let alone the buildings around me.
'Time to take stock then, I'm still in the same clothes I was wearing when I… crashed. Wallet, phone, key, smokes and a lighter – all set for a day out on the town.' Straightening out my tee-shirt, I realise that with no idea of where to go, I can't exactly get any more lost. A crash rings out behind me, making me snap around, hands raised defensively. I can hear yelling, definitely not English though, and definitely coming closer. Taking cover in an alcove, I peer out, quickly snapping back in as the supersonic crack of gunfire rips past me. 'Holy shit' is all I have time to think before a figure flies past me, firing wildly behind them. Four large men are chasing this person, dressed… strangely in rather odd clothing, wielding pistols of their own.
A bullet strikes true, catching one of them in the neck – he falls to the ground gurgling as blood pools around him. His comrades don't even glance back at him, simply shifting their postures to minimise their profiles. "This is a dead end," one of them barks "there's no escape for the blue bitch now!" The thugs (yes stereotyping I know) close in, taking turns at providing suppressing fire. A wet smack echoes out, followed by a pained female scream. 'Shit that was a chick they were chasing. I've got to help somehow!'
Among my friends and me, we have exchanged many pieces of priceless advice and information, covering everything from homework to girls. But out of all that, there is one overriding motto that is upheld: "Don't be a bitch." Gritting my teeth, I stalk out of cover and creep over to the dead man, my stomach churning a bit at the smell of blood, piss and shit – obviously he'd lost control of his faculties before he died. Scooping up the pistol he was holding, I gave it a quick inspection. It looked nothing like any firearm I'd ever seen or handled, but at least it had an obvious trigger, plus he was shooting it earlier so the safety had to be off. 'If the clip is empty I'm fucked though. Boy that would be embarrassing.'
Gunfire is still being exchanged in sporadic bursts between the girl and the three thugs, their attention centred on each other. My Converse All-Stars convey me silently to them, holding the pistol in a firm two handed grip I point it at the back of one of their heads. Point, pull, repeat. Two sharp cracks sound out as the thug jerks violently, rag dolling to the ground. Swinging around, I point the gun at the next thug, just as he is turning towards me, surprise writ large on his scarred features. I fire wildly, planting a spread of slugs into his torso, until the pistol makes a sharp beeping noise and becomes unresponsive. The last man lifts his pistol at me, only to have it shot out of his hands by fire from the end of the alley, that girl is obviously still in the game.
Unfazed by the loss of his weapon, he charges right at me, dropping his shoulder like a rugby player would lead into a tackle. Unwilling to meet him head on, I roll out of the way, resulting in him skidding around and winding up to deliver a massive punch. Wanting to end the fight immediately, I step inside his guard and elbow him right in the nose, sending him recoiling, allowing me to kick hard at him. His hands shoot out and grab my leg mid kick, sending me off balance and to the floor with a hard thud, his face twisted into an ugly grin exacerbated by the blood oozing from his nose. His hands close around my neck, crushing me, I can't breathe.
Spots and sparks start to dot my vision as I beat weakly at his arms, time seeming to slow as I realise that I'm going to die for the second time in twenty minutes. A crack rings out, as the man's head spurts red mist and he falls sideways. I hear footsteps running toward me, and just as darkness starts to claim my mind I see the face of the girl that I (helped I guess) save. Concern and worry is written into her features, as is the fact that she is… Blue. 'Where am I and why the fuck am I seeing Asari from a videogame?' are the final thoughts that cross my mind before I black out.
