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WTTU Chapter 3

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Chapter 03: Leave your shoes at the door
Things got even more strange at this point too- Because I remember waking up vividly, and I wasn't standing on shaky legs either, on confident, albeit confused heels. I could think clear as day, everything that had just happened ping-ponged off of my brain like the game from the 80's. Slowing down thoughts of mania is quite the task, I was distraught, as I'd imagine anybody would be in a scenario like this. When I say the thoughts were 'clear' I mean 'completely translucent', I could think in a direction, I just couldn't make sense of anything. Once my eyes got to working though, I noticed I was in a hospital. A really retro hospital, with posters from long before I was born on the walls, at least it looked like it from what I remember seeing in my History classes. The layout of the hospital seemed very much like the ones that were around today, white floors, grey walls, an empty desk area where I'd assume a nurse would be, glass behind me to show the outside world, though I could only tell from the reflection on the ground. I hadn't turned my back to see what the world looked like just yet because somewhere inside I had this deep seeded fear I'd be looking at an alien, or a demon. You know, one of those creatures that explain that everything you've done was moot and you're now under a giant microscope or something.
When I turned to face the glass that was reflecting the light around, I learned that neither demon, nor alien was waiting for me, in fact there was nothing around for quite some time. You know that feeling you get when you think you're completely alone, that state of absolute loneliness? That's what it was like, 'cept there was absolutely nothing around aside from ''Planes?'' It was strange, I had slowly begun walking absentmindedly outside of the Hospital, my body had been working on its own while I was just kind of taking everything in. The outside was much like home, believe it or not. There were skyscrapers around, nameless buildings were the giants of the land, but wherever I had woken up, it was very much abandoned.
I looked up, to try and make out any signs of where I was, but I noticed something- the sky was purple. You could think I was making this up but I am being completely honest with you, you'd have to be there! There were a few clouds in the sky, but they were so few and far between, even they seemed a bit off-color compared to the sky. It was surreal, I had absolutely no idea where I was going, but I was still walking in this dead city. The back of my head got irritated by something, be it an invisible bug, or a gust of wind that completely eluded me, I had decided to scratch the itch, to at least give myself confirmation through touch that I wasn't a ghost. The sound of thin metal touching and brushing through hair, and a scalp was heard, and felt. Cold metal brushed against sweaty locks, when did I begin to sweat?
Around the same time that I brought my hands to my face and saw something I hadn't even imagined. From my hands, down to my feet I could see something atop of it, almost like an armor of sorts. It followed the outline of the bones in my hand, twisting around my wrist and down my sides. I didn't notice it before, but I could feel that it was on me, wrapped around my waist, holding fast to my form, and slowly down the front of my legs. Veins were highlighted with the brightest neon blue light my body could highlight with before I woke up, and a steady rise in panic was tapping me on the shoulder. Suddenly, bones that were once not even acknowledged were ten ton weights , cracking like an oak's limbs forced to bend during a hurricane.

My legs gave out immediately, bringing shaky wrists to connect palms to the ground beneath me. My fingers felt as fat as sausages on a steadily burning grill, if they weren't attached to me by skin I'm certain they would've blown up to the size of balloons and flown off, or erupted in front of my face. What little nails I did have on the tips of my fingers dug into the ground against my will, the sound of thin China against cement echoed in my head. The pain was unlike anything I've recently experienced, I've broken a bone or two in my day, but this was something that attached itself to my soul. Every action I took was counted in my head, every fiber of hair on my body from my ankles to my eyebrows were ablaze, almost as if the follicles themselves had gained a hyper sensitivity that was unknown to science in the modern age. My knees were bent, but they weren't bent, I was down on the ground, like a dog on all fours, but I couldn't tell if my legs had moved from me falling down to making a rather frail attempt at holding myself up now. The pain was so surreal that it had numbed most of the lower portion of my body. I tried calling out, praying to whatever God ran this place that somebody who didn't want to skin me would come to help, to explain why I was in so much pain. To give me a way out- nobody came. Nor did a sound aside from my own gurgling on saliva escape my throat, not until I had been forced to vomit from the pain I was in, 'churning the stomach' isn't an appropriate phrase, it was more like putting a stomach through a meat grinder, then eviscerating it. The light from the sun- which, as peculiar as it may seem, I didn't see in the purple sky- illuminated everything around me in a sort of over-saturated grindhouse feel, my head's rocking from the pressure of which I had vomited had slowed down to that of one, one-billionth of a frame every second. I felt as if I were inebriated, or at least from what I've been told it does to the body. Elbows were getting heavier, my chest felt like it was falling out of my skin, only to still be attached by nerves as it clunked to the ground in a heap of muscle, tissue, and blood.

It was complete sensory overload, even the panting had sounded like nuclear bombs going off in my head, combined with Mozart's grandest of Shotgun orchestras. I figured that this was another one of those 'Jason, you really have to die' events that has been passed to me in the past…how long has it been? From a green flame trying to eat me, to lighting up brighter than a Christmas led in what felt like minutes, I didn't have time to check a watch, or the date. Did I die? Is this Hell? Why do I still remember things? Questions like that are asked constantly while your wrists break and you fall into a pit of your own vomit and spit. I've come to the conclusion that there comes a point in a man (or woman's) mind where the pain just becomes so otherworldly that you just stop giving a damn, you figure 'Hey, I'm going to die anyways' so you start making plans for the next life, or thinking over things that happened in your previous one. I don't remember a distinct smell of this place, aside from pain. Nor do I remember sights, but I had the slightest feeling that I'd be visiting this place more if this was, in fact Hell. My body seemed to give up while I was on the ground, my brain was telling me to try and move, but the pragmatic side of me said 'Fuck that!' politely, and allowed me time to lay there and focus on mainly one thing- breathing.

Even that became increasingly hard as I tried everything within the confines of my own mind to not think about everything that's been happening. The explosion, the crazy-as-balls teacher, and where I am now. Life, up to this point was pretty boring now that I think about it. I did things that most kids do in their days, I went to school, played games with my mother when she was around, made childhood friends, but as I got older, I just kind of disconnected myself from people. I remember when David and I used to be good buddies, back in grade school, he and I did nearly everything together, we rode the subway, went to comic book stores, played video games, and even joined the same sports together. It was like he and I were inseparable, some people called us brothers. That all changed once we hit high-school and Dave started dealing with drugs and booze. I was never one of those guys who went to parties to get sloshed and meet random women who had some sort of disease that rhymes with 'conjacutis' so she could share her malady with me. I was more of the semi-social type, I'd speak with people, and be able to laugh, but I didn't find any use in trying to drink, or do drugs with people of my own age. I've thought about the idea of trying it when I was older, under my own terms, but if this was a sign of a hallucination from me, then fuck that. Fuck that ten times over with the largest of steel rods, because this sucks. Dave would- wait a moment, who's Dave? My train has left the station, I've forgotten completely what I was going on about. Oh yes! The pain of laying here and whatever happened to my body.
''Yer being fitted." A voice! Not just any voice, a voice of somebody that sounded like he knew what he was talking about, however slang-esque it might be. I couldn't retort, the steady flow of sulfur-lava was still running through my veins, putting me in a state of shock, but I did try. My lips parted on the ground, and I wiggled my tongue slightly, to try and make the word 'Fitted' come out of my mouth, but instead what I had heard was two clicks, much like a fish being out of water. ''Pok pok.'' Oh, that sucked, because I musta've looked real awesome, real vulnerable too. Now that I thought about it, why didn't this guy just rob me, or kill me and get it over with? From the way he sounded, it wasn't as if seeing somebody laying in a pool of filth on the ground was new to him, so what the hell? "Yer gonna' come back. Aint'cha boy? You'll want answers, man. You'll want 'ta know everything." I couldn't respond, so all I could due, despite the pain is mull over the words spoken by him. Part of it was true, if I had lived through this immense pain I'd want to know what caused it, I just wouldn't want to look it in the face. Something that had the ability to make Jason explode into tiny bits (Hey, don't judge me here.) or at least feel like it without a touch isn't a something I'd like to see eye-to-eye. Not until I acquired the power of  some animated deity so I could show this enigmatic fellow, and the creature that had put me to the ground a thing or two.
The man standing above me sighed, and from what little I could make out of the scenery, his body looked like it was armored. Not like a tank or anything, but a damned Dragoon or something, there were black scales on his legs that made shin-guards, you could tell by the way he walked and they clanked in rhythm that it wasn't part of his flesh. What was he protecting himself from? The guards had a thin trail to them, it looked like symbols that I wasn't able to read. They had a faint glow to them, much like my veins did, but his brightness and contrast was turned down to ten, where mine was on two hundred. His leg dug the ball of its foot into the dirt, almost as if he was beginning to go into a sprint. Then he told me words that would make me infuriated with him for quite some time. "If ya' always need help like this, I'll call you Nancy." Something so miniscule, but it gave me such a seething rage towards this man that I wanted to deck him right here and now. Come down here and say that to my face so I can end you!  My thoughts were powerful, but did nothing. Instead I felt what was intended, the black-armored man kicked me in the face with an audible grunt, and then..
I woke up.
Well it's Wednesday, that means a new chapter comes up. Now I need to actually work on chapter four! Since I'm only a paragraph into it. I also don't like how dev-art doesn't indent my indentions when I indented them for the purpose of indenting =/.

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