Lady Luck has a bad habit of throwing wrenches into the machinations of mortals. It's kind of her hobby, really. After all, the right man in the wrong place can make all the difference. Unfortunately, for most trying to flee her cascading dominos, She's trans dimensional.
It was dark, oh so dark. Pitch-black that can only be found in the depths of an old mine, kind of dark. He opened his weary eyes. Well he thought he opened his eyes, as not much changed:
It was still dark as fuck and very much confusing.
"Where am I?", he said.
Or at least he thought he said it. After all, It was rather difficult to tell, since he didn't physically hear it aloud but inside his head.
He tried to probe around his environment but found that he couldn't feel his hands. He couldn't really feel anything, which would have caused him to panic if it weren't for the fact that that was a total lie and he did notice something.
That "something", though, was still a conundrum to him. It was as if half of his body was laying down against a grainy rough surface.
Whether that "half" was his front, back, side, etc, he had no clue. Same went for which way was down.
He knew he was on something, he could feel it, but he had no idea in what position that something was in. Was it a wall, a floor, a ceiling, his whole proprioception was so off kilter that Kilter decided it had enough being under something and took a vacation to Hawaii.
All of this was very perplexing for him, as what seemed like several minutes ago he was a perfectly normal 16-year-old boy. A boy who was looking forward to another mundane morning of homeroom with the rather attractive Mrs. Flynnt.
Now he was in a dark and mysterious place. The where, how, and why all lost to him, and soon he'd lose his marbles too if he didn't do anything about it. In fact, he could tell they were slipping from his grasp as he was already beginning to hear things.
"Think! When did things stop making sense?", he grilled himself.
He thought back to what he thought was last night, the moment things started to go weird.
He was in his room popping headshots off like he was a part of the infamous Faze Clan. Several more bodies before he could summon nuclear Hellfire down upon his foes and thus ending the match.
It was after collecting another such sacrifice to the atomic gods that his Voice chat lit up with the distinctive sound of the ripping of a bong.
"Ted, don't go to school tomorrow.", forewarned Freddy, higher than the Himalayas.
"What, planning on shooting up the school, Fred? We both know you value your weed too much to risk it on something like that. HA! Eat RC-XD bitch!", Theodore retorted distractingly, driving his RC-car into the legs of an enemy soldier.
"No, nothing mundane like that, Ted. Something worse is gunna happen; I can feel it. Both you and Jess should stay home tomorrow.", Freddy's voice took on some edge, though still shrouded by his inebriated state.
That gave Theodore pause. It was one thing to talk about him being in harm's way and another thing entirely to involve his girlfriend. He was about to interrogate Freddy on "what the fuck are you getting at?", but unfortunately for Theodore that lapse in attention got his character a paid ticket on the respawn timer. The suddenness of which broke his fledgling efforts to interrogate his stoner friend.
"Gawd damnit! Sorry Fred, I gotta focus and get revenge on "44x9hallapoint" for fucking up my kill-streak." Theodore said, leaning into the true "gamer-mode" position.
Theodore would go on to achieve that unparalleled number of victims and unleash the power of Atom on the game's lobby.
Despite not remembering much of what happened that night, Theodore got what he was after, the moment things turned weird.
He needed this information so that he could help ground his already deteriorating psyche, after all those auditory hallucinations were getting worse. He could hear voices now!
They weren't clear, nor could he understand whatever gobbledygook they were saying, but he could hear them getting louder.
"H-Hey! Can anyone hear me?!" Theodore tried to shout and get their attention. He may be hallucinating, but there was still the possibility that the voices were coming from a "them" and not from him. He really hoped it was a "them" and not an "It". Theodore did not want even more confusing things to appear, as he was already, in his own words, "Trying to deal with enough shit as is".
Quite apt were those words.
For our unfortunately poor-fortuned Theodore, more shit was exactly what he was going to have to deal with.