Game Over Chapter 1: Game Over, a rwby fanfic

You're dead!

Allen Walker looked at the words for a long moment. The only thing before him in a field of white that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

"Ah...how unfortunate..." Allen said to himself. It wasn't too much of a shock considering he could vividly remember himself dying just mere moments ago.

He had been walking down the street from the local tea shop when he had taken his usual shortcut through an alleyway. It was rather late at night but it was Christmas eve and his friends at the shop threw a small party that he enjoyed greatly. His face was aching from laughing and smiling so much as he stepped into the bitter cold and snow. His pockets were full of sweets and teas and he looked forward snacking on them on Christmas.

Allen would be the first to admit that he wasn't the best person but he liked to think he was far from the worst. He worked hard, shared what he could afford to share. He was polite. He laughed easy and was slow to anger. He did stupid things and pissed people off, but he was a teenager; that was a given.

All in all, he was a rather ordinary Brit.

So, it was a rather large surprise when some blighter murdered him in cold blood.

He heard footsteps behind him before he felt a burning sharp pain in his back. Allen remembered crying out, more in shock than in pain at first. But after the seconds stab...and the third...and the fourth...all the way to the tenth, those screams were of pain. After his murderer was done poking him full of holes, Allen was pushed forward. He barely even felt it as his face slammed into the snow-covered cobblestone.

He tried to get up, to move, to fight back, or at the very least see the person that murdered him...but all he could do was lay where he fell, his strength slowly bleeding out of him. His blood dyed the snow red and more fell from the sky and covered him.

After that...everything faded. First the pain. Then the cold. Then the noise. Then the color until everything faded to black.

An eternity seemed to pass in that single moment. It was like blinking but it seemed to take forever. Allen could feel himself dying-no, he felt himself die. Then...then he opened his eyes and he was in a field of nothingness.

The words reacted to Allen's voice. The words confirming his death disappeared and the ones that replaced them puzzled him greatly.

Would you like to start a new game?

Allen looked at the words that hovered before him. A typhoon of emotions swirling inside him as he looked at the inconspicuous words. He was still reeling from his death, his murder. It was confusing enough when he opened his eyes after dying. Even more so when he took in his surroundings and the first message, but now...as he looked at the new message, Allen was completely lost.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to demand answers to the uncountable number of questions that he had.

Who killed him? What did he do to deserve being murdered? Who would find his body? Would it be one of his friends or someone that was just passing by? Was this the afterlife? Heaven? Hell? What did it mean by 'start a new game?' Was that all his life was? A game? Was he even in control of his actions? If life was a game, then did that mean the player was a god? Was there a god? What did it all mean? What was the purpose of life? To entertain some nameless, faceless player, or god, until his untimely demise? Was all life was just a realistic version of The Sims?

Allen felt everything wash over him. Fear. Confusion. Anger...it all crashed over him, threatening to overwhelm him. It should have. He should be screaming, crying and more. He should have broken down in a senseless, weeping, heap.

However, instead, he looked at the question that hovered just before him. He felt his mouth go dry as he sucked in a slow breath.

"Yes...I would like to start a new game."

Everything changed in an instant. Allen didn't blink, but in a fraction of a second the endless whiteness vanished and the deafening silence was replaced with the familiar sounds of the city. He could hear people talking and cars honking. He stood in an alleyway, one not unlike the one he was murdered in. However, as he looked around, he noticed several key differences.

The first was that there was no snow. There wasn't even a chill in the air. The walkway was concrete instead of century old cobblestone. The sun was shining in a bright blue sky instead of nighttime.

So he wasn't where he was killed. That was...good? It greatly decreased the chance of him being killed again by the same arsehole and, provided that no one saw him, being mistaken for a zombie. However, it did mean that he was somehow teleported, but that was rather low on the list of things he had to freak out about.

On the top of that list was the fact that he had somehow been brought back to life.

Allen looked at the blue sky for a long moment before he took in a deep breath and let out slowly. Then he took another. And another. And another. And another one after that. He could feel panic rising in his chest and he doing his best to push it down but it was of little use. Within seconds, the calming breaths became him hyperventilating.

Most people think that when faced with an impossibility that they would just roll with the punches. That they would look at the impossibility and go 'huh, that's weird but whatever.'

Most people were wrong.

When faced with something that shouldn't be possible, or even something that they didn't understand, it was just human nature to reject it. Hate it. Fear it. Most simply can't cope with the fact that their entire world was shattered, or even changed. So, they tried to ignore it, pretend like it didn't exist, and failing that, hate it enough in an attempt to keep it out of their lives. Some would even hate it enough that hating that change, person, or object took over their lives.

Failing that, most mentally broke down.

Allen was no exception.

"Ohh...oh shit...I-I-I...!" He muttered to himself as he hunched over, placing his hands on his knees. It felt like someone just punched him in the gut, expelling the breaths he took. No matter how he tried to rationalize it, to make some sense of it, he couldn't explain what had just happened to him.

He had died. Then he came back.

Allen felt cold dread grip his heart, he felt tears sting at his eyes, his mind was a place of chaos. He fell down, his legs no longer having the strength to support him and he fell on his butt. However, he barely felt it. He was numb. Nothing made sense, nothing was as it should be. He had died! He was dead! How-

Just when Allen felt his sanity threaten to snap, right when it all threatened to overwhelm him and he would be reduced to a screaming lunatic...it stopped.

Allen couldn't describe it. It was like something just pushed all the dark, crazy feelings that tried to overwhelm him and just shoved them down. He could still feel the panic in his chest, he was still just as scared and just as confused but it was...distant. He still felt the anger, fear and panic but, for whatever reason, those emotions just couldn't affect his mind. Where his mind was once a chaotic mess of emotions and thoughts, now only a cold calmness reigned. It let him...think instead of just reacting to what happened.

It freaked Allen just as much and just like before, right when Allen began to freak out about it, he felt the same calmness force his panic down.

Allen sucked in a few breaths and let them out before he leaned back against one of the walls. He stared at the wall across from him and just thought. He acknowledged the feelings battling in his chest but he knew sitting here and panicking wouldn't do a damn thing for him.

The biggest question was what all of this meant. He died-the panic was once again forced down-then that field of white, then...

Allen had an impossible thought. A thought he would have dismissed outright any other time. However, in the last five minutes he died and was resurrected; so, he was rather open to suggestions.

Allen nervously licked his lips before he spoke, "status window." He had to suppress a shout of surprise when, without warning, a window screen appeared before him.

Allen Walker

Title: The Gamer

Health: 100 hp. Mana: 50

Level: 1 Exp: 0%

Strength 10

Vitality 10

Dexterity 10

Intelligence 10

Wisdom 10

Luck 10

Points to spend: 0

Allen stared at the window screen, hoping that if he glared hard enough that it would just disappear. That the memories of the last five minutes would just be a horrible dream and he would wake up in his flat. He would tell Cherie, that cute waitress at his tea shop all about it before he would go to school. He would tell his friends, they would make fun of him and all would be right with the world.

However, no matter how hard he glared, no matter how much he wished it all was just a dream, the window still hovered in front of him. Denial was rapidly losing its leg to stand on and the cold, calm, logical part of his brain was giving it a push out the door; making him face reality.

"Okay...okay. Alright. When it said start a new game...it meant start a new game. Okay, Allen, you got this," Allen muttered to himself, trying to talk himself into accepting this new reality.

Allen's eyes fell on the title that hung underneath his name. "The Gamer." Cautiously he pressed the title. His finger didn't connect with anything solid but, at the same time, he felt himself press something. Before he could investigate the mysterious feeling, a window popped up.

The Gamer- the title given to the Gamer.

"That tells me piss all," Allen said to the screen, annoyed at the stunning lack of any information. He dismissed the window and turned his attention to his stats.

Just looking at them, Allen could tell he was nerfed. He was fit, worked out regularly and ran every morning. So, his strength and vitality stats should be higher than that. On the other hand, his wisdom was higher than it should be. Allen was a teenager and all teenagers are stupid. All of them. He didn't have a dark and dreary childhood that could justify being wise at the ripe age of sixteen.

Allen eyed his luck stat and resisted the urge to sneer. Lady Luck sure hadn't blessed him with her presence today.

He didn't have anything to compare it to, but his stats seemed alright for his level. Based on what he was seeing, he was a video game character. Most likely an RPG. So, to level up, and earn stat points, he would need to do quests. How, or where, he hadn't the faintest, but he would burn that bridge when he crossed it. For now, he needed to understand what exactly was done to him.

Allen hummed to himself, glaring at the pathetic numbers before he noticed the tabs in the corner.

Status. Inventory. Skills. Options.

Allen pressed inventory out of curiosity and saw the standard inventory menu. A presentation of him in the corner and his clothes in equipment slots. There was even a notification about his phone, candy and wallet in his pockets; and when he clicked his wallet it told him how much money he had in it.

Allen tilted his head in thought before he drug the icon that represented his phone into one of the empty inventory slots. When he reached into his pocket, he noticed that his phone was missing.

"That's useful...," Allen muttered before he slowly reached out to the window and to his shock, the screen rippled as his hand sunk into it. However, he did his best not to freak out and thought of his phone and when he pulled his hand out, his phone was in his hand. "Yeah...that's really useful," Allen concluded. He would have to investigate more but the potential of that ability alone was almost staggering.

He pressed the Skill tab after that and a number of his unspoken questions were answered.

Gamer Body (passive)- Ability to allow the user to live in reality as if it were a game.

Gamer Mind (passive)- Allows the user to calmly and logically to think things through. Immunity to all physiological effects.

Allen looked at the two skills and his mind raced.

Gamer Mind explained quite a bit. A game character didn't fear the future and when faced with an obstacle, he worked his way through them. He didn't fear, he didn't panic; no matter the situation or the odds, a game character just moved forward until the objective was done.

That was mostly because the character was being controlled by a player, but when Allen thought about it, it made sense. Since he wasn't being controlled, while at the same time being a game character, Gamer Mind was the solution. He could still be as calm as a gamer, but have all the physical perks of being a character.

It would also help him in battle, though he didn't anticipate getting into any fights. If he was jumped again, possibly by multiple people, instead of seizing up with fear like he normally would, he would be able to react calmly. Possibly talk his way out of the situation.

As his mind raced, Allen couldn't help but feel incredibly thankful for the skill. It didn't say, but Allen knew that it was the only reason he wasn't a raving lunatic at the moment.

Allen paused in thought before he pinched himself. Then harder, with the edge of his nails when it didn't have the desired result. It wasn't until he broke skin that a window popped up in front of him notifying him that he lost a single point of health. Allen paid it no mind in favor of watching the wound.

He could only be stunned when he watched the skin meld back together and the little pain he felt disappear along with it. Allen checked his HP and saw that he was still missing that one point of health.

"That's awesome," Allen said aloud, giving his head a small shake of disbelief. He really shouldn't be surprised but he couldn't help it.

Think of all the abuse that a game character gets put through. Beaten, stabbed, shot, mauled, falling from high up, stepping on landmines, getting mauled by dragons; all that abuse and a game character just patches himself up by eating a couple of cheese wheels and keeps moving. No matter how bad the damage or how many broken bones, they kept moving and fighting until that hp bar hits zero.

That same logic applied to him. He didn't know the extent his body was affected, not without some experimentation, but theoretically, he should be able to heal broken bones by sleeping them off. Get shot? Eat some bread. Stabbed? Have a thin mint and a cup of tea.

No matter what he did to his body, he should be able to bounce back from it so long as he had hp left.

After taking a very long minute to appreciate that fact, Allen pressed the options tab and saw that it was rather limited. He pressed his finger on one of the little nods and drug it to the right; in response, a pleasant tune started up around him. Allen let out a laugh and shook his head in amusement and disbelief.

"I have a theme song," Allen said to himself before he drug the node back to mute. It was awesome, but after a minute of it, it got a little annoying not being able to hear himself think. "Huh...I wonder if I have battle music...," Allen thought aloud before he fiddled with the other nodes.

He flipped on subtitles and laughed again when he saw that he had them. He laughed harder when he saw the subtitle pop up for him laughing. He laughed even harder when the box changed to 'laughing intensifies.'

Then he saw the interface for the pop ups and he quickly changed it. Now instead of a window popping up every time he did something, most would simply appear his mind. To test it out, he gave himself another pinch and nodded in satisfaction as he suddenly knew that he lost another point of health.

Then, surprising him, a window popped up in front of him.

Through a special action, a skill has been created!

Physical Endurance (passive) Lvl 1 Exp: 0%- The durability of your body goes up and you take less damage. 3% less damage taken.

Through expirementation, your Intllgence has increased by 1

Allen read the skill over a few times and nodded slowly. That was useful, but he was a bit annoyed that it didn't appear in his mind. He couldn't exactly click it to make it go away when he was with a group of people, now could he? He already thought he might have gone insane, he didn't need others agreeing with him. A look at the second screen brought a headach. He was smarter now? What?

Allen closed out of his options and looked blankly at the wall across from him. The events, the world shattering, life changing events that transpired over the course of thirty minutes. He died, came back to life as a video game character.

Allen leaned his head back, resting against the cold stone and closed his eyes for a long moment. Then he let out a soft sigh.

"I need to get properly sloshed."

...

Allen knocked back another shot before he placed it on the top of the pyramid with exaggerated care. He let out a huff when it fell but didn't bother trying again.

While he could see all of the possibilities of his new ability, it apparently had a few flaws as well. The foremost one was that he couldn't get drunk, at least not for very long. Alcohol was technically a poison and his ability treated it as such. After taking the second shot, a window popped letting him know he developed a abnormal resistance skill; granting him 1% resistance to any kind of toxin.

So, in an attempt to spite the skill, he knocked back almost a dozen shots in a couple of seconds; earning concerned looks from the bartender and a few that were standing by.

Allen groaned in annoyance as the buzz rapidly faded and ignored the stacked windows letting him know that his poison tolerance went up to level three.

"Rough day?" Allen heard a gruff voice behind him ask. He peeked from under his arms and saw it was a tall man in his mid-twenties dressed in a sharp suit, minus the blazer. He had on a pair of red sunglasses, even in the dim lighting on the nightclub. However, what caught his eyes was the number that hung over his head.

Hei Xiong

Broker

Allen's eyes lingered on the number for a long second, the last wisps of his buzz vanishing like vapor. He was level 1 and from what he gathered on his walk to the bar; teenagers were in the 1-5 range while most adults were in the 5-10.

This guy was more than twice as strong as the average, and, more importantly, much stronger than him. He didn't know what it meant by 'broker' but he certainly wasn't enjoying the thought of what it sounded like.

"You could say that," Allen responded neutrally as he forced himself up. He spun in his chair to face the man fully and it was then that he noticed the two women standing at his sides. They looked like sisters; the same pale skin, same green eyes and black hair. The only real difference between them were the dresses they wore, and even those were the same make, only the colors were different.

Miltiades Malachite

Rose with thorns

Melanie Malachite

Blooming Orchid

Ohhh...goodie. More people that could kill him on accident.

A skill has been created!

Observe Lvl 1 Exp: 0%

By paying attention to your surroundings, you gather more information about them.

Allen ignored the window in favor of listening to the man over the music.

"Bad enough to knock drinks back like that?" Hei asked as he took a seat next to Allen, making him tense. Hei didn't show it, but he noticed, making him smile.

Allen paused, his mind racing, but it only took him a moment to realize that he needed to lie. If he started spewing about how he died and came back with a new ability, he'd be in the loonie bin before the hour was over. However, he didn't know anything about this man. For all he knew, he could help him, or be crazy enough to believe him.

'Observe' Allen thought and a window popped up in front of him.

Hei Xiong

Level 24

Title: Broker

The owner of The Club. Prefers to be called Junior.

Again, that helped him precisely piss all.

"Yeah. I got jumped in an alley and dumped here. Wherever here is," Allen said shortly with a shrug, deciding to lie. It was close enough to the truth; he was attacked and he had no idea where he was. The only clues he picked up was this guys name, which sounded Asian, probably Chinese or something, though he didn't look it considering he was nearly seven feet tall. That and the fact the menu was written in English, and everyone spoke it so wherever he was English was the prominent language. That narrowed it down a fair bit.

Though they didn't have English accents. Most of them sounded American.

Allen saw an eyebrow peek over the sunglasses, "I'm hoping that they didn't take your wallet." He said, nodding at Allen's collapsed pyramid. Allen, however, just shook his head and took out his wallet.

"Nope," Allen said, popping the p, "the blighters jumped me and knocked me out. When I came to, I was lying in an alley a couple of hours ago. Left everything on me; just took me for a ride before dropping me off wherever here is." Allen explained as he looked into the taller, and much, much, much stronger man's eyes. It was difficult because he wore those red sunglasses, even in the dim lighting of the club.

Junior looked down at the kid with an impassive face. He had gotten a call from his bouncer, letting him know that he let a kid in. Before he could chew the guy out for doing something so stupid, his doorman said that it was because the kid looked like he could use a drink or a couple.

It was a Monday afternoon, so the club was slow. Practically dead. Mondays were always slow and their main attractions didn't start up until the latter hours. Because it was slow, he didn't have to keep an eye on things, and because of that, he was bored. Incredibly bored.

So, purely out of curiosity, he walked down to the floor and spotted the kid doing shots like there was no tomorrow.

Junior knew the kid was lying, or at the very least doctoring the truth a fair bit. The main clue of that was the fact that his hoodie had quite a few cuts in it, surrounded by what Junior instantly recognized as blood. So, the kid had been stabbed by someone who really wanted him dead from the looks of it. The second was the fact someone kidnapping him just to drop him off with his money didn't make much sense. Either they were crappy friends or there was more to the story.

That caught his interest. What kept it was the kids accent. Junior never heard it before and it was far too distinct for the kid to be making it up for giggles. He even used words in a different and amusing way.

What's more, as an information broker, he could spot a lie from a mile away. It was a necessity for the job, else he would sell false information and there were reasons he was the best in Vale.

He could see that the only true parts of the kids story were that he didn't know where he was and that he was jumped. Though, the hoodie gave that away.

It was because of all of these reasons that he just didn't toss the kid out on his ass. However, the reason why he reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle was because the kid was entertainment for the night.

This kid had an accent he didn't recognize, a hoodie telling the story of a murder, and a story that didn't fit the facts, or make much sense.

"Sounds rough. So long as you can pay, the drinks will flow." Junior said as he poured the kid a drink, ignoring the suspicious look from him and the curious ones from the girls.

While Allen couldn't get drunk, it would be rude to toss the offer in the man's face. With practiced ease, he drained the shot and began rebuilding the pyramid.

"And, to let you know, you're in The Club. I'm Junior," he pointed to himself before he nodded at the two women that stood behind Allen, both looking at him with curiosity buried under contempt and looks of superiority. "The one in the red is Miltiades Malachite and the one in the white is Melanie; they're twins," Junior filled in helpfully.

Allen nodded his head at the women, "ladies, a pleasure," he said, all the while thinking that they had odd names. They were both gorgeous, a handful of years older than him and if he was honest with himself, very far out of his league. That fact was reinforced when the Miltiades practically sneered at his attempt to be smooth.

The rejection of a beautiful woman was so far down on his lists of things to worry about that he didn't even miss a beat in turning in his chair and knocking back another shot. He even smiled a bit when the skill leveled up and granting him a 4% resistance to poison.

Junior's eyebrows rose. Either the kid was an alcoholic, gay, or he had some serious confidence to not even bat an eyelash when Miltiades gave him that looked that just screamed 'I'm a goddess and you are a shitstain in comparison.'

This kid got more interesting by the second.

"My names Allen Walker by the way," Allen said, raising his fourteenth shot as a toast before draining it. He felt the beginnings of a buzz form before it quickly vanished. He could feel that warmness in his gut but the alcohol couldn't affect his mind. It seemed that he really was immune to mental status effects.

Junior nodded, thinking that even Allen's name was weird.

"So, did you get a look at the guys that jumped you? Depends on where it was, I might be able to help out." Junior offered, playing along with Allen's lie.

"I was walking down Queens Avenue when the wankers got me and no. By the time I realized what was happening, it was already too late." Allen said, thinking back on the fresh memories. He couldn't have done anything to stop it; he didn't expect to be murdered nor was he prepared. There was nothing he could have done to change what happened. That pissed him off and the angry expression on his face only added to the lie.

Junior thought of every street he knew of; while he wasn't a walking map, he knew the major roads and the ones popular for drug deals and exchanges off the top of his head. However, he never heard of a Queens Avenue, and considering that Vale was governed by a council...

"Hmmmm, sorry. I don't know it," he apologized while his mind was turning over the possibilities. Was he from another country? There were a few very minor ones that answered to the big four that still retained a monarch; maybe that's where the accent was from. There weren't many, Junior could count them on one hand and still have a few fingers left over, so it narrowed things down a fair bit.

The thing was, none of them were near Vale.

"No worries, I can find my way back home after I've gotten my head on straight," Allen said, topping off the pyramid with a lopsided grin. Junior looked impressed; Allen clearly had a liver made of iron if he was still functioning after fifteen shots.

'Now that I think about it...' Junior thought, giving Allen a cynical eye. Allen's speech wasn't slurred, not even a little. He hadn't noticed at first because of the accent, but there was no way that after fifteen shots, with his build, could still be talking like he was sober.

Allen just got more and more interesting.

However, to Juniors dismay, Allen stood up, struggling with the act slightly, before he tipped an imaginary hat at him while taking out his wallet. "Thanks for the drinks and the offer to help," he said slapping a few tenners on the table, a large tip for not calling him out on his underage drinking and for actually being concerned about him.

He turned on his heel and nodded at Miltiades and Melanie, who both looked down at him though it had an edge of frustration and annoyance. Allen didn't take that as a good sign and made to quickly get out of the club, else they might start nagging him, but he was stopped by Juniors voice.

"Oi, Allen," Junior said and when he turned around he saw Junior holding up his bills. Allen's brow furrowed in confusion, he should have paid far more than enough to cover his tab so he didn't know what Juniors problem could be-

'Crap,' Allen mentally swore. If he wasn't in England, then they wouldn't take his money.

"We don't take this," Junior said, confirming his fear. "Do you have any lien?" He asked, making Allen's thoughts grind to a halt.

'Lien?' Allen silently questioned; unless that was American slang for dollars, he might not be where he thought he was. Lien almost sounded Asian. However, knowing that if he asked what a lien was, or even what country he was in, wasn't possible without bringing up some questions that he wasn't prepared to answer. Instead, he rolled with it.

"No...no I don't. I thought you'd accept a couple of pounds." He said in a solemn tone before he took an eager step forward. "Since you don't, I can work it off. I was a dishwasher at a restaurant, soo..." Allen trailed off, giving the impression that he was nervous.

However, Junior barely noticed.

Allen had an accent that he didn't recognize. His jacket looked like it was stabbed to death. He didn't know where he was. Could absorb alcohol like a sponge and be completely unaffected by it. Then, he tries to pay in a currency with a picture of some lady's face with a crown.

Junior didn't know who Allen was, but now he defiantly wanted to find out and Allen just gave him the perfect excuse keep him here until he did.

Junior nodded, "that sounds fair. You can sit around for a couple of hours to sober up, but when it gets dark is when we get busy. After your shift ends, we'll be square."

After that, Junior lead him into the dish pit. It was exactly what he would expect from a high-end night club. They had a little assembly line; a sink to wash, a dishwasher, then a drying area along with racks to dry. After re-familiarizing himself with the equipment, he leaned back and waited for time to tick down while he answered some of Juniors questions.

…

Allen let out a sigh as he walked out of The Club. It was well past midnight and Junior wasn't kidding when he said that they really pick up in the latter hours. It had been a frenzy and it was only thanks to the dish washing skill that he created early on that he managed to keep up.

'That stain removal buff saved my life,' Allen thought with a small grin tugging at his lips. It had been so bad that he leveled it up to ten in the first hour.

He noticed after that once it hit ten, it took a lot longer to level it up in comparison. He still managed to, but where he hit level ten in an hour, he leveled it up once every thirty minutes since.

The other good thing about it getting busy was that Junior left him alone. He liked him; he didn't get pissed when he couldn't pay and didn't throw him out when he was clearly underage. He even offered him a job when the night was over. However, the subtle inquiries about his background put him on edge.

Junior didn't seem like the kind of bloke that would sell nerve gas to a five-year-old if there was a couple of quid in it for him, but the guy did reek of criminal. A high-class criminal, but a criminal nonetheless. So, when he spent a couple of hours poking at Allen's story and background, it put him on edge. Like he was trying to test the waters before he recruited him for something.

Junior didn't get much out of him. He did his best to keep his answers vague; never mentioned cities, names of stores, his school or even the names of his friends and family. Instead of annoying the man to the point that he just left him alone, it seemed to only make him press more with...excitement?

Whatever it was, it wore on Allen and he was glad when Junior left him alone.

Now that work was finally over, he just needed somewhere to get some sleep and in the morning, he could start looking into where he was and how to get home. If he could find a cash exchange, he could find a hotel that didn't put him at risk of catching a venereal disease when he laid on the bed. He was tired but he wasn't enough so would sleep on a bench in the middle of a city.

He could get robbed, or killed again.

The thought made Allen sigh again. A lot happened today but the day was finally coming to a close. After he found a way home, he would find the bugger that murdered him, kick his head in, then pick back up where he left off with a few extra perks. He would flirt with Cherie, he would goof off in class with his mates, he would get in fights with his dad about how late he could stay out and he would ignore his sister's attempts at mocking him when he didn't get his way.

"Everything is going to go back to normal," Allen said, waiting for the walk signal to turn white. He looked up at the cloudy night sky and he felt all the tension melt from him. He relaxed at the promise and found comfort in it. He felt a weight lift off his chest and it was only after it was gone that he realized that it was almost crushing him.

"Everything is going to go back to normal," he repeated with a soft smile on his face. It would all be fine. Everything was going to be fine.

However, his soft smile slowly turned into a frown, and then open mouth horror as the clouds parted and revealed the moon.

What was left of it.

Allen stared at the moon, his brain trying to shut down at the sight but Gamer Mind stopping the process before he could even begin. He could only stare helplessly at it, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He was frozen in place, the turn signal long since turned white and a someone on a bike was glaring at him in annoyance.

As Allen stared up at the shattered remnants of the moon, only one word came to mind. As the thoughts and hopes of returning home and living a normal life shattered only one word summed up how he felt. As he realized what this meant for him, only one word described his situation.

"Shit."

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I wrote this on a whim after reading Gamer Arc by SmilingJester. If enough people like it, I'll continue it.