Hello! Before you start reading this story, there's something you should probably know first: This is my first real attempt at creating a story. I have very little experience with writing, and I've basically started writing this on an hour long whim. There are going to be mistakes, and I can't catch all of them. I also have no experience on creating stories based off of other works, with pre-existing characters. Characters will more than likely fall out of character, and it may happen multiple times, and I'm sorry for that. Also, chances are that updates will be more or less sporadic, though I will try to keep to a schedule of one chapter a week if I can. Chapters may release sooner though (or later) if I get them done before the week is up, but because school exists that probably won't happen a whole lot. Now, if you're still here despite all that, thank you! Please let me know (nicely) if you think I'm doing something wrong or should change something, and why (or if I get some numbers wrong).

Now that that's over, please enjoy!

'Y'know, whenever I thought about how I'd want to die, I always imagined that I'd go out with a bang.'

'But this?'

'This is a tad too literal for my tastes. And not nearly as cool or heroic as I'd imagined, either.'

Right now, I, along with about eleven other people, are being strapped to chairs, and having what I think are home made IEDs strapped to us via duct tape. As it turns out, the place I was eating at just happened to be almost directly next to a rather important state building, and these terrorists apparently need some hostages to actually get into there. That's what I've gathered, anyway, listening to some particularly loud terrorists talking. As for why they think that would work, I have no clue, but that's apparently the best idea they can come up with. It's kinda sad, actually.

The room we're in isn't anything impressive, basically amounting to a concrete square with a single wooden door and a probably years old light bulb. In the corner is a wooden table with various wiring and plastic explosives laying on it.

It's occurring to me now that I never thought about what would happen after I die. I wonder if heaven's real?

'Eh, not like I'm going there anyway. I've seen (and participated in) way too much weird stuff on the internet for that, heh.'

A loud bang emanates throughout the building, and gunshots begin ringing not soon after. It seems that the police have finally found us, thankfully.

A terrorist comes rushing into the room, looking panicked. He grabs my chair and begins dragging me to the end of the room directly opposite of the door. Once he's finished moving me, he runs over to the table and grabs what I'm pretty sure is a detonator and runs back over to me. He gets very uncomfortably close to my face and speaks.

"You! You don't say a word, got it?! Not one peep!"

'Lips are sealed, pal. Not like I can anyway, considering my mouths kind of duct taped shut.'

Instead of trying to voice my thoughts, which would be pointless anyway because of the aforementioned duct tape, I keep quiet, which seems to at least slightly appease the man. He takes up a position behind me, crouching just low enough so that his head is directly behind mine, and I can hear his ragged breaths, presumably from running to here from where ever he was in the building a moment ago.

About 20 seconds later, men clad in full suits of blue armor and 'SWAT' painted onto the chest begin rushing into the room, pointing guns around, scanning for more terrorists, all immediately moving to settle on the man behind me, and by extension, me, as he spoke.

"All of you freeze! Every one of these chairs is primed to blow! Move an inch and I take every single one of us out!"

The police, hearing this, stop, their guns still pointed, but none daring to move any further into the room, and apparently none confident enough in their aim to fire without hitting me in the process.

Unfortunately, it seems that someone from the hallway didn't get the memo, and before anyone could stop him came running in, letting loose a stream of bullets towards the terrorist behind me as soon as he laid eyes on him. The shots didn't quite hit their mark however, and instead I got hit quite a few times, which I can safely say I never, ever would wish to experience again in my admittedly now short lifetime. Though I heard the terrorist let out a yell of pain as well, which creates an ever so slight feeling satisfaction in me. This, of course, triggered the man to activate the detonator, and I could swear that every chair in the room, including mine, began to glow as the beeping of their explosives echoed throughout.

And thus, the room was engulfed in flames as it, and everyone within, was caught in 12 simultaneous explosions.

'That... is what's supposed to be happening, right?'

Oddly enough, that's not actually what's happening right now. No, what's happening right now is much, much weirder.

Everything around me seems to have stopped, thought that's not what I'm focusing on. In front of my face is a slightly transparent, dark blue box, with fancy lines that curl on the ends bordering on the edges, white text in the middle, and two buttons on the bottom, saying 'Yes' and 'No'.

WARNING: USER'S HEART WILL STOP IN [1 SECOND].

IF USER WOULD LIKE TO AVOID THIS FATE, PLEASE PRESS [YES].

[YES] [NO]

'Well, I'd love to, except for the fact that I can't move!'

CORRECTION: USER'S HEART WILL STOP IN [0.8 SECONDS].

IF USER WOULD LIKE TO AVOID THIS FATE, PLEASE SAY OR THINK [YES].

[YES] [NO]

'Oh. Well, at least it's giving me options.' I think sarcastically.

'Yes.'

USER HAS CHOSEN [YES]. PLEASE STAND BY AS THE USER'S FATE IS RELOCATED.

'Wait, what do you mean fate reloca-' is as far as I can get in my line of thought before everything turns white, and I suddenly lose consciousness.