AN: I like this story a lot more than my other one right now. u.u But its been nagging at me for a while, and I finally got the first chapter on paper. Lemme know what you think! Reviews encourage me to write more!

"Look mister, I don't want any trouble." The white haired teen said, voice quivering lightly. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. That was essentially the only thing going through Jackson Overland Frost's mind right now. He was going to die. He was going to die in this sketchy ass back alley all because he wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now some mafia looking guy had him backed against a wall with a gun to his head. The man in question must have been at least 7 feet tall, in a business suit that looked like it must have cost more than Jack's entire college tuition, and a black fedora on top of his head. Course, greasy hair poked out of the fedora.

"There's already trouble. I'm sure you're a good kid. But you see, you just witnessed me kill someone. Now I gotta make sure you won't talk." Jack was visibly shaking at this point. Why in God's name did he decide it was a good idea to take a shortcut home today? He just wanted to catch the new American Horror Story for Christ's sake. Now his life was a fucking horror story.

"I-I won't talk. I w-won't say a word I p-promise." He stuttered, still shaking.

"No, you won't. I'll make damn sure of it."

Jack never actually heard the gun go off. He remembered feeling the pain of the bullet as it went into his head. Time seemed to slow down tremendously. He fell to the ground slowly, watching the shit-eating grin appear on the mobsters face. His life flashed before his eyes. He remembered thinking drily, that really does happen right before you die, huh. He remembered his sister Emma and all the things they did together. Bike rides came to mind, and snowy days spent building snow forts, nights spent reading her stories… His mother, and her soft brown curly hair. The smells from the kitchen of one of her homemade meals. The talks they had… And his father, the burly man that he was. He taught Jack to change a tire, how to drive a car, how to love someone… All these memories surfaced, reminding Jack of the life he had. And then, just as suddenly as they had come, they were gone. And there was only blackness.

Jack didn't really expect to wake up. His head pounded harshly. His fingers went to touch where he was shot… but there was no wound. How could that be? Slowly, albeit painfully, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He wasn't in that back alley anymore that was for sure. It was night wherever he was. In front of him lay… a city that was a tree. Or a tree that was a city. He wasn't sure which way to describe it. But carved around this ridiculously large tree was a pathway that led up its trunk, all the way to the top. And lining the path were houses of all shapes and sizes. At least he assumed they were houses, judging from the shape.

"If this is heaven, it's pretty lame." Jack thought aloud.

"This ain't heaven boy." The poor boy nearly jumped out of his skin. Looking to the source of the noise, he saw a bearded, brown haired man who appeared to be in his thirties, dressed in what could only be described as homeless elf attire.

"Well then where is this? Am I not dead?"

"Oh no, you're dead alright." The hobo elf chuckled. "We all are."

"So… I'm in hell? I didn't think I was that terrible of a person."

"Wrong again, boy. It's nothing like that. You're… well, we don't know its name either. Most of us just call it the void and let it go at that."

"The void? The hell kind of name is that? What is this void? Why am I here? Why are you dressed like a homeless elf?"

"Slow down, boy. One thing at a time. All we know about the void is people who have died wind up here. Or some of them do, anyway. No one really knows why some of us wind up here and others don't. Point is you're here. And we know that this place offers one pair of partners a second chance. A second chance at life that is. And new clothes aren't exactly easy to come by here, for your information." The man said with a huff.

Jackson's head was spinning at the point. This was insane. How does one come to terms with the fact that they are no longer living? Could what he was here be counted as living? Could this just be a really vivid dream, and he just had to wake up? Maybe that was it. It seemed more rational than what was going on now. Hell, pink elephants riding on tricycles would seem more rational than what was going on now.

He tried pinching himself several times to test this dream theory. Softly at first, and then as hard as he possibly could. The last one elicited a cry of pain. Pain? You don't feel pain in dreams do you? Jack thought to himself. This was bad. This was really bad.

"You're not dreaming, boy." The man answered for him. It wasn't that hard to piece together with the many pinches. "What you see before you is real." Jack shook his head, trying to think straight. He took a deep breath, followed by several dozen more before he could get his pulse rate down. "Alright, so I'm in this weird place because I'm dead. I'm... dead" he said a second time, more so to let the thought sink in than anything else. "And this place… What's this second chance you mentioned old man?"

"Alright look you little shit, I'm not old. I'm only 34. And for that, you and whoever winds up as your partner participate in the games. Not that you have much of a choice."

"Games? What sort of games?" Jack asked, intrigued.

"Not the fun kind, boy." The bearded man stated grimly. "Games that you play to death. Literally. The last pair left alive at the very end get to get out of here and live again."

"Ok, let's stop this boy thing. I have a name, and it's Jackson. Or Jack. Take your pick. …How do I pick a partner? And how do I know anything you're telling me is the truth?"

"Look at your hand Jack."

The boy was confused for a second, until he did what was instructed. What in the HELL was on his hand? It was some sort of… purple gem. He tried to pull it out, but it caused him tremendous pain that shot through his entire body when he. It felt like he expected a fresh cut diamond would feel when he touched it. But there was no sensation coming from that hand. He didn't "feel" the gem being there. It was just… there. He definitely felt something when trying to pull it out though. It was like pouring straight alcohol on a deep gash. It actually burned, but the pain had quickly subsided when he let go.

"No use trying to get it out. We all have one." The bearded man said simply, holding up his own. His, however, was a bright red color.

Alright Jack, no big deal, he thought to himself. So you got shot, wound up in a place where everyone else is dead, same as you. And you have this neat little jewelry embedded into your hand now how cool is that? He took a deep breath before speaking again. "So what do they do? Do the colors mean anything?" "Well the colors represent your status. Purple means newbie, and also indicates a protected status that lasts as long as you remain a purple. Your color changes to blue after 12 hours. If your gem is blue, you can be targeted for elimination at any time. Anyone can kill you. So basically, you have twelve hours to find a partner. People who are partnered have red gems, like mine. Reds can only be targeted during games. You don't have any powers until you partner with someone. That unlocks your ability."

"..How am I protected?" These questions were really beginning to irritate the man. And so he thought rather than explain, why not show him? He closed his eyes and concentrated for a minute. A ball of fire appeared above Jack's head, before hurling itself at him. The white haired teen went to back away… but there was no need, apparently. His gem glowed for a minute, before a brilliant shot of purple light shot out of it, surrounding Jack in a sort of "bubble", bouncing the fireball several hundred yards away before fading. "That's how." The man answered.

Jack nodded, probably a bit too enthusiastically out of slight fear. "T-Thanks for that. You got a name? And last question hobo elf I swear. Where do I find myself one of these partners you speak of?"

"Doug. The names Doug, boy. And up there, I'd imagine." He said, pointing to the city tree. Tree city. Whatever it was. "We all live there when we're not trying to kill each other. Nice places, actually. Any house with a purple symbol on its doorknob means it's vacant, and can be claimed by newcomers like yourself. You should find other newbies up there. Best of luck, Jack. Now go on, get out of here. No, really. Twelve hours goes fast kid. As soon as those are up, your fair game boy." Jack shivered at the thought. Not his idea of spending a Sunday night. …If it was still Sunday where he was, at any rate. He nodded to the bearded man before getting himself up, taking care to dust off his favorite blue hoodie and pants.

"Thanks uh- Doug. I guess I'll be... seeing you around then. Hopefully still on friendly terms." He said with a nervous chuckle.

"Relax, Jackson. I won't be gunning for you anytime soon. Most people won't during the games, actually. But you'll find out all about that on your own. Now quit wasting time, move your ass." Jack didn't like the way he worded that. Most implied that some still did. It wasn't something he wanted to contemplate too much just now. Instead, he bade the old man goodbye and started his trek toward the city tree. (Jack had officially decided that's what it was called.) He was off to find himself a partner.