Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim,or the Elder scrolls series. Only the characters that I create are mine.

First try at a story so please review ...though please go easy on me this is my first story.

Chapter 1: Driver

The night was cold and dark, giving a feeling of deprivity as the man drove through the quiet streets. Snow was falling slowly from the sky covering everything within a layer of inch thick snow. The street lamps illuminated with a soft yellow glow, lighting the snow covered side walks and streets as the snow and ice gave off a light sparkle as the glow of the lamps hit it. Then noise suddenly broke through the siren moment as a loud bus came driving down the empty snow covered streets, it's color bright compared to the rust adorning much of the sides and back of the blue bus as it continued down it's track through the white covered streets.

Why me? thought the driver of the cold bus, continuing its track through the cold deserted streets on what to him felt like a very ominous night.

Wilson Terono was not happy, about many things in his life at the moment, one of which was driving the old rusty bus through the quiet street, in the light snow covered streets of his home city. Why? You may be asking this question to your self right now. Why would he be in such a fowl mood on such a beautiful night such as this, with everything from the tops of the buildings to the smallest branch on the trees covered in a dashing white finish? easy. This was supposed to be the start one of his few early weekends. His mood at the beginning of that day was rather up lifting...as well as lazy.

Wilson had slept most, if not all the morning away, wasting away that Thursday as he usefully did which involved over a dozen bags of Doritos cheddar cheese chips and a full case of twelve mountain dew cans filled with it's brand specific soda and a T.v. blaring away to what ever show he chose to watch. This was to be the beginning of one of the best early weekends, though that was not going to be the case on this particular day. There he was wasting away the day on his old couch riddled with old stains of the past and small holes with the fluff ,that was used to make the couch comfortable, being visible and in some cases protruding out of the slight breach in fabric. Yep things were looking up for Wilson for once, not that he wasn't unlucky, but recent...events have proved other wise. That is until his boss called telling him he had to pull an all-nighter. Why? Because a man Wilson knew very very well had called in...sick.

" LIKE HELL HE IS!" he rebuttaled, yelling into the phone hoping to somehow blow out his bosses eardrum out of his yelling rage.

"sigh...look i know today was supposed to be your day o-"stared the man on the other end of the phone only to be answered by not so happy 28 year old man.

"YOU BET YOUR ASS IT'S MY DAY OFF!" the man having to pull the company supplied phone away from his ear ,when he heard the very angry bus driver started yelling again into the other end of the phone.

"BESIDES YOU-YOUYOU...YOu...you know he does this on purpose" the man known as Wilson boss relaxing slightly at the sound of Wilson's voice shifting from that of psychotic rage to a more annoyed tone, still angry mind you, but a very less loud annoyed tone.

"Maybe" the boss said in a tired tone "...but he didn't call in this time, apparently the kid some how got himself a girlfriend, she called in saying Jake couldn't come in saying he had been up since 3 a.m. puking his guts out"

"So whether you like it or not you are manning the 7 o'clock shift till midnight-and don't say get someone else! You and I both know you are one of the few people that actually know the damned route with out having to use the stupid GPS."

Wilson tried the ague with his boss, but already new the out come, because if working for him for at-least a good couple years have taught him anything about his boss, it's that once his mind is made up it's made up...that and since he had done this route so many times, one of the main reasons for his early weekends, he had unfortunately in this case memorized the entire route, though the only reasons why most of the other drivers didn't want this route was because of all the twists and turns as well as the extremely long streets that almost never seemed to end...and the time you had to drive. A small chuckle escaped his tired light hazel nut bearded face, remembering the down hill battle with his boss over the phone.

"Damn I 'm tired" Mentally groaning as he continued down the darken night and snow filled street, sleep still wanting to embrace his mind like a warm blanket.

Wilson was then stirred from his bland boredom as he heard the soft ring of church bells coming from his pocket, slowly taking one hand off the wheel, never moving his eyes from the seemingly never ending straight splotch of snowed down asphalt. He felt his hands grip the hunk of plastic as he brought it out of his pocket moving it in the middle of his steering wheel. Looking down he saw in his hand an Iphone with the little green flashing phone button staring him in his tired face, as he swiped his meaty thumb over it he looked down to see he had gotten a text message from a fellow bus driver.

A bus driver that was currently supposed to be sick and puking his guts out.

"Hope u don't mind filling in for my shift old man-" he was already getting annoyed by the message "-just wanted to say thanks so have a nice night!" Wilson was slightly confused by this, he usually got stupid jokes or the random motivational poster, that hell even he will admit was more times then most humorous, but a message like this from Jake...not a message that actually wasn't a joke and actually serious was a rarity he thought he would never see. THAT, is until he scrolled down to see the rest of the message.

If his body was able to, there would be jets of steam rivaling a steam train belowing out of his ears.

"P.S. I know i will ;)" this caption was then followed by a picture of a very healthy looking Jake Earnings, the picture showing that he had taken the picture himself while siting on the couch, an arm holding up his phone while the other was around his girlfriend, his head turned towards her as he planted a kiss on the red heads cheek a single eye looking back at the camera and through that, at him.

"Why that son of a bit-" Wilson started talking in a quit voice lased with angry, rage, and venom all directed and promising pain towards the one that sent that message...only to be brought back when, out of his peripheral vision, his eyes saw his speedometer hitting 97 miles an hour. That and a man in a black sweat shirt standing in the middle of the road. His eyes going wide with shock and fear, instantly hitting the breaks with all the force his tired frame of a body could muster,he felt the buses wheels screech as the stopped moving slowing the bus to an extent, or he would have if the street was not covered in a layer of snow. Instead of screeching to a halt the buses old worn down tires merely skidded across the ice and snow covered street. He realized that while one hand griped his steering wheel with an unrecoverable iron grip the other that had once held the phone now not only drop it but had slammed into the wheels horn with all his might. though fear still gripping his his body like the hand of death, it made time slow in front of his eyes making him take in every detail, every guilt renching detail of the scene infront of him. That's when saw the man now knowing that it was not a man...hell not even close.

It was a kid.

Well teenager from what he could tell...just some teenage kid in the street probably in his later teens. His clothes look old and well worn, his black sweatshirt covered his,what he could tell skinny frame telling Wilson he was very athletic or hadn't eaten in a good while he also could see a dull green shirt around his neck line. The teens pants looking no better seeing a small tear in one of the lightish blue knee's, while on his back was a green back pack and pressed tightly against the back of that was a blackish-brown guitar case, a single strap running horizontally around the teenagers chest holding the case against the back pack. The teenagers face was almost completely covered with the sweatshirts hood, Wilson only seeing from the mid nose down because of the phone held in one hand giving off an-off light to barley even see that, the other around the strap of his worn out back pack,though he could make out a few white locks of hair coming down from his head.

Then he felt the bus hit it's unfortunate target, the impact not even slowing down the skidding bus the boys body meeting hard American mad steel , killing the poor homeless boy in an instant , the sound of bones breaking and gut renching wet squishing sounds being muffled by the buses thick frame. Wilson's stomach dropped so low it felt like it hit the seat he was on. The impact with the boys ,though small and skinny frame, somehow casing the bus to start spinning uncontrollably. Wilson felt guilt hit him even harder, to him harder than the bus hit the poor kid, it hit him harder...than anything. It's this feeling that caused him to forget to get the bus under some kind of control ,to forget about the feeling of flying through the air in a few seconds as the bus cartwheels down the last few feet of snowed over road into a light post and park bench.

And to forget about seeing out of the corner of his eye, before the bus started spinning to it's wreck and his eventual coma, before hitting the unfortunate boy, a man wearing a black trench coat leaning against a light post at an intersection to his right...a man he swore had goldish skin.

Last note:Thx to my two friends for helping me check my spelling...and grammar, as well as giving me the courage to actually post something on this site...Even if one is a grammar Nazi, also their characters shall be introduced later in the story line.