GG, Kronos, But I Have Foresight

Chapter 1 - And I'd Just Escaped High School, Too
I don't know if you know anything about Ohio, but normally, the ground doesn't open up right beneath your feet, toss you into a vortex of confusion, color, and contrast, and then dump your sorry ass on a bed in a boarding school at New York City. The ground is normally very solid and unmoving. You can usually expect it to keep you in your own plane of existence.

Me, though?

I wasn't so lucky.

Falling through the magical rabbit hole, I quickly laid out a few possibilities as to how this could be happening. First: pipe dream. Evidence to this would be the whacky and shimmering rainbow colors that the walls of this otherwordly tunnel were composed of. Evidence against this would be that I'd made it a point to never ingest any sort of drug I didn't need, even over-the-counter allergy pills that didn't do shit to my allergies. Fuck Zertec.

Second: I was drunk and hallucinating all of this. There was only evidence to the contrary on this point, sadly. I had no idea whether drinking could give you the sensation of continuously falling at sufficient velocity. Furthermore, just like with drugs, I'd gone out of my way to never accept any drinks offered to me, even from my parents. The only alcohol I'd ever partaken of was Sunday morning church wine, and I highly suspected that the priests commonly cheaped out and replaced the stuff with grape juice, anyway.

Third: I was asleep and dreaming all of this. Again, not even close to an option. It had been bright, mid-August daylight mere minutes ago. I had an unfortunate habit of consistently failing at any and all attempts to take a nap, so unless I was having some weird daydream -- which I supposed could be possible since I was ADD -- that was out of the question.

So, what did that leave, then? Bad mushrooms? Nah, I was picky eater; I hated mushrooms.

...Hmmmm.

As I continued to fall through this rainbowy dimension, I folded my arms across my chest and crossed my legs. Cold wind buffetted my brown hair around and peeled my somewhat ovular face up. To any outsiders, I would've looked cartoonishly uncomfortable, and I was. Do you think having your lips ripped upwards by the sheer force of the wind striking your face is fun? If so, you're even more insane than I am, which is saying something, since I once binged the entirety of Ouran High School Host Club while I was sick and could barely keep my eyes open because of my damn allergies. My eyes were itchy as hell after that incident, but goddammit if the laughs weren't worth it.

Oh, lookie there. The tunnel's stopping. Seems like my pointless, internal rambling had managed to pass enough time that I'd finally escaped this weird wormhole aaaaaand oh, fuck, now I'm falling at terminal velocity, directly onto a bed in the middle of some completely random room.

WHUMP. My soft body landed heavily on the bed, which seemed just barely able to fit my 5'9" body in it. Its wooden legs creaked, and the bed shook dangerously. All of the air I had in my body rapidly escaped my lungs upon impact and I choked dryly. Owww. That had hurt. Human bodies weren't designed to experience high-velocity impact on a cheap-ass bed mattress that was barely softer than a prison floor! I think I cracked a rib or two. Possibly three. Sue me, I'm no doctor.

Actually, please don't! I'm dirt poor as it is and really don't need to hire a lawyer.

I groaned painfully as I bounced once, twice, on the very hard bed before finally stopping. My head spun, and my entire body ached. My chest especially hurt. In fact, it hurt strangely bad, like someone had kicked me in the balls but kind of a lesser sensation. It was making it a bit hard to breathe. That might've been from the added heaviness on my chest, though. It wasn't much at all, but I definitely noticed it, and it definitely felt like I had two weights strapped above my non-existent man-boobs. Like, what the hell? Had the thing that spirited me away from walking my dog on a bright, sunny August day also decided it cared about my physical strength? Screw you, mysterious ROB, if I want to be lazy about my physical condition, then I'm not gonna just half-ass it.

Can you half-ass half-assing things? ...I don't rightly know. Give me a few seconds on that one.

I opened my eyes without even realizing I closed them, groaned as I swung my shapely legs over the edge of the bed, and rubbed my head. Well, at least the pain told me this was real.

Closing my eyes, I sighed and shook my head. I couldn't just sit here all day. I had to figure out some clue as to where I was and exactly what had happened to me. For the first time, I took stock of my new environment.

Going by the fact that I was actually on a bunk bed, I was in a generic, unassuming dorm room, with depressing grey walls that seemed designed to give absolutely no psychological stimulus to the occupants, be it positive or negative. The floor was a fluffy, light yellow wool carpet, the kind of yellow that people use when they don't want to be blatantly in your face about it. Plastered to the wall were posters for various celebrities, like Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, and the posters had pink paper hearts of varying sizes taped to them. Noises of some city -- the high whine of cars, the honking of horns -- permeated softly through the grey walls.

A closet was shoved against the wall to my right, with a door next to it. The closet was filled to bursting with a rather ridiculous amount of items, not a single one of them having any sort of relevance to the rest. Another closet sat next to a window on the wall to my left, and upon inspecting its contents, I noticed that it was much more orderly than its brother. Clean, ironed clothes dangled carefully on hangers. They were all definitely girls' clothes, and certainly were a school uniform. A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek, and I looked to the wall directly in front of the bunk bed I was sitting on. A desk with a large mirror sat there beneath a heart-covered poster of Brad Pitt, and upon its surface sat a variety of makeup supplies and brushes and whatnot that I couldn't even begin to name.

Well, that settled that, then. I was in some sort of girl's dorm room in some random city. Going by the rather aggravating amount of honking that came from the traffic outside, and the fact that I could see what looked to be a row of brownstone buildings from the window, the city was New York. I'd been to New York about four times, and had vacationed in several other important American cities, and I could say with some certainty that the Big Apple had the nosiest drivers of them all.

The thought crossed my mind that I might not be in an American city altogether.

I furiously punched and kicked that thought into the back of my mind, where it cowered in darkness. I was not spending the rest of my life kidnapped and forced to live in a Russian girl's dorm.

I pushed myself off of the bunk bed, cursing as I landed on my foot badly, and hobbled over to the door. It opened before I could get a chance to even grab the knob though, and my momentum carried me forward into a soft body. My vision was momentarily blocked by said soft body.

Oh God, please don't let this be a face-in-the-boobs cliche, please don't let this be a face-in-the-boobs cliche, I whined desperately in my head.

A sharp intake of surprise reached my ears and I backed away from the soft body to examine the girl whom I'd accidentally run into. Judging from my height and hers, I had lucked out and hadn't actually gotten my face stuck in her breasts. Then again, she didn't actually have much in that way to speak of. She was a short thing, shorter than me at least, and my vision had been blocked by her hair, not her chest. She currently was not in a school uniform, but rather in an edgy black shirt that depicted a heart pierced by an arrow with a jaggedy shaft. She wore equally edgy black pants, and from how well she would've blended into a night sky, to me she kind of looked like she was trying to simulate both a robber and an early 2000's punk band groupie. Then again, she didn't really have the hair for my last judgement; it was straight and a natural red, tied into a ponytail that hung on her back.

We stared for a few moments. She looked highly unimpressed with my accidental faceful of her hair.

"Um, hello, Earthling," I said, offering a small, nervous wave. "Are you Russian?"

Was my voice always that high? I mean, I had a naturally high voice, but I'd thought it was at least low enough to be considered a male's.

The girl cocked her eyebrow. "Eve," she said slowly, like I was a piece of gum on the bottom of her black school shoes, "you are so weird."

"My name's not Eve, it's Evan!" I snapped, wincing as she shoved past me and elbowed me into the door. Owwww, my funny bone. Seriously!? On top of having cracked ribs, I now also had a hurt funny bone!? This was not funny, God. Just what was going on, anyway? I randomly got stolen from walking my dog in Ohio, I ended up in what's probably a girl's dorm room in New York City, my voice is higher, and this edgy redheaded girl just called me Eve.

...Wait.

Waaaaaait. Just what did I like to do in my free time? Just what did I pour my life and soul and precious hours of sleep into every day of my life?

Fuck. I was a self-insert.

While the redheaded girl gaped at me, I rubbed my non-existent beard and paced in circles in the doorway, largely ignoring the aching in my chest and funny bone. Okay, so I at least know this much now. But what series was I in? Shit, I'd read and watched a lot of stuff. How was I supposed to know where I was? I still didn't know enough about this location to make an accurate guess...

I rushed over to the redhead, grabbed her, and shook her desperately. Her eyes widened in surprise and she attempted to knock my hands off of her shoulders. "What year is this!?" I asked hurriedly.

"2005!" she yelped, eyes wide. "Hey, let go, bitch!"

2005... okay, so I was definitely on Earth, then. Of course, I'd suspected as much anyway from the posters of Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, but it was nice to have confirmation. Swallowing dryly, I asked, "Where are we?"

"Did you hit your head or something?" The girl squinted at me and punched my elbow. Yelping, my grip on her shoulders relaxed, and I keeled over to nurse my poor elbow. "We're at Yancy Academy, home to every kind of problem child you could name. I'm Nancy Bobofit, and you're my annoying roommate, Eve Gamble."

That got me to look up from my elbow. Yancy Academy... Yancy... why did that name sound familiar? Nancy Bobofit was ringing a bell, too. A very faint bell, to be sure, but it was ringing something. Yancy Academy... Nancy Bobofit... Some series I had watched or read.... I tapped my foot as I tried to link them together.

Furies. Centaurs. Decapitating math teachers.
My pearly, hazel eyes shot open in recognition. Sweet Jesus on a Harley Davis, I was in Percy Jackson.

...Fuck, I was in Percy Jackson.

.......Awesome! I was in Percy Jacks -- waaaaaait a minute.

"Did you say 'Eve Gamble,' and roommate?" I asked awkwardly.

Nancy growled and sighed. "Yes. What is wrong with you today? I mean, you're weird normally, but this is nuts even for you."

I rushed over to the mirror on the makeup desk and stared. Long, chocolate hair, beautiful hazel eyes, pink blush on the cheeks, lips turned a soft, gel-ish pink from lipstick, and a girl's school uniform. I blinked. The person in the reflection blinked back. I blinked again. She copied me again. Behind me, Nancy Bobofit lifted her eyebrow and stuck her hands in her pockets before collapsing on her bunkbed. "Whatever, bitch."

Brain.exehas suddenly stopped working. Reboot? Yes/No.

Yes.

Rebooting...

I screamed.

Notes