Omegasplit [Act 2: on hiatus]

PAST ZANE :brisk walk downstairs and get the mail quickly
PAST ZANE : play GAME

> ZANE: Examine SK- HOLY SHIT IS THAT TEXT NEXT TO THE SUN?

PAST ZANE : take mail from DAD
PAST ZANE : play GAME

>PAST ZANE : Take mail from DAD.

You slowly edge your way down the stairs, careful not to arouse your dad's suspicion. It appears that he is reading the newspaper in the kitchen, he doesn't suspect a thing...

===>

You slowly sneak your way towards to the table...

>PAST ZANE: Have your cover blown.

Your father straightens the paper and raises an eye at you.
Dad: "Son, if you're looking for a friendly morning strife I'm afraid I'm a bit too tired for that today."
Zane: Oh, okay. Could I have the mail then?
Your dad nods and hands you the small pile of mail. Mostly just bills...
Ah! There's the game envelope.

>PAST ZANE: Look for some PAIN KILLERS.

You decide that while you're down here you might as well get some aspirin for that headache.
It's been going up and down for a while now, and you really don't want to be dealing with a migraine while playing a game with all your friends.

>PAST ZANE : Play GAME.

You head back upstairs to play the game, and plug it in...
Oh, looks like you need to install it. Okay then.
More waiting then...

>MEANWHILE... in the FUTURE...

On the edges of the Incipisphere, far into the Veil...
The largest collection of meteors ever assembled in Paradox Space...
A number of rocks begin to make their journey inwards...

>Back in the PAST...

Ugh, this headache just won't go away...

> Zane: Take a moment to realize that the girl you're dating is suspiciously familiar in some respects...

>PAST ZANE: Check SYLLADEX.

You examine your SYLLADEX, a nifty little thing that you got that apparently comes as a free bonus to the game. Lets you operate like a video game inventory system. All your friends have wonky fetch modii of some kind though, you don't really see the point of having a SYLLADEX if it's just going to make retrieving items when you need them pointlessly complex. You decided to go with a nice, simple Array Modus. No retrieval gimmicks to waste your time.

In your sylladex you have have 10 cards, right now only 2 are full, the fantasy novel you finished reading earlier today and the stack of bills you grabbed downstairs. The SBURB game envelopes are on your computer desk.

>PAST ZANE: Check STRIFE PORTFOLIO.

You don't have anything in here, as you have not allocated your STRIFE SPECIBUS! Usually when doing strifes with your dad you just mess around and stuff instead using things as actual weapons. It guarantees nobody will get hurt.

>PAST ZANE: Check ECHELADDER.

You are only one or two rungs up your ECHELADDER. There's not really any need to get in ACTUAL FIGHTS in REAL LIFE, so you don't climb rungs very often.

>PAST ZANE: Take a moment to realize that the girl you're dating is suspiciously familiar in some respects...

Dating? Dating who? You aren't dati-
Oh, hold on. That's one of those stupid HOMESTUCK fanfics, isn't it?
You could never get into Homestuck, time travel makes your head hurt, you just can't grasp the nuances very well without getting a HEADACHE, so you never really enjoyed the comic.
Argh! Just thinking about it made your headache worse!

>PAST ZANE: Smash HEAD against WALL, repeatedly.

Stupid headache! Stupid time travel! Stupid! Stupid! Stu

>PAST ZANE: Faint into a heap of unconscious uselessness.

You pass out mid-smash, collapsing on the floor like a moron.

>Past Zane: Wake Up on Moon

ZANE : be even more useless as you stand up really groggily



(wait so is the Zane that is unconscious past Zane? I'm a bit confused)

Yeah, sorry, I forgot to add the PAST modifiers to Zane. It is indeed PAST ZANE who is a useless heap on the floor.
And TF, I have no idea what your command is even supposed to be, sorry.

---

>PAST ZANE: Accidentally allocate your BOOK to your STRIFE SPECIBUS as you LOSE CONSCIOUSNESS.

You haven't the slightest clue why this thought occurs to you as you drift off to lala land. But you do it anyways because what else are you gonna use as a weapon?

>PAST ZANE: Wake Up.

You wake up. That's strange, you could've sworn that... No, your headache hasn't gone down at all. If anything, it's worse now. And all this bright, golden decor around you really isn't helping much at all.

>PAST ZANE: Examine room.

You look around your surroundings. It looks like you're in a replica of your own personal room, except it's all made of this odd yellow material. Quite peculiar. You don't feel threatened or anything though, just slightly puzzled.

DREAMSELF ZANE : realize you can FLY

>PAST ZANE: Take INVENTORY of the ROOM.

You look around your room. It's... much the same as your regular room, except all yellow and shiny. Your headache is finally starting to go down... really, bashing your head on the wall probably wasn't the best plan for getting rid of your migraine. Anyways, it's the same as you'd expect, there's two golden desks next to each other, a bunch of papers sort of splayed around. For some reason there's a few papers pinned to the wall next to your bed with handwriting much messier than what you usually have... It still seems to be yours, although you don't recognize the absolute gibberish that's written on them. Strange to say the least.

There is also a large window corresponding roughly to where there is one in your real room, although instead of being squarish like bedroom windows usually are, it's a sort of pointed arch, like you get on those old castles. Bright white light is shining through, tinged with red and yellow. It's mostly pleasant, but something about it makes you feel a little apprehensive...

>PAST ZANE: Investigate reading materials.

You look through the various papers strewn about your room. Most of these concepts correlate to various fic ideas you've had at sometime in the past, although you see several that you're fairly certain you've already used or discard completely. You decide that there's not really anything relevant there and examine the papers on your wall...

===>

You get even less information out of these. The papers are covered front and back with runes of some kind, you think they might be Greek or Latin, although you're not certain where you might've learned this language if you've indeed been writing on the walls in your sleep. γ, θ, Ω and Ψ are all written in lines along the page, although you can't really make sense or any order of them.

>PAST ZANE: Look out the WINDOW.

You decide that there's not really a whole lot new in your room that you can make any sense of, you might as well see what's going on outside.

===>

The view you obtain from your high vantage is a desolate one. The streets are empty, with none but the flickering flames and fluttering papers left behind from whatever calamity has claimed the cityscape roaming the alleyways and boulevards that were once the color of hope shining brightly, but now have been darkened and scorched down to the color of broken dreams.

You have absolutely no idea what happened here. Your view is filled with a cacophony of dismay, as this once pristine city now lies partly in ruins, the once golden tiles of the streets and walkways below stained to a dark crimson by the blood of fallen white figures, the burnished walls, a sooty grey. As you watch, a single, crinkled newspaper flutters down the main street, flying over the bodies of fallen combatants and fallen flags, over the crumbled outcrop of the broken buildings. Only upon closer inspection can one look deeper, seeing huddled white figures in the windows of buildings, every so often peeking out and flashing furtive glances from corner to corner, as if looking for an unseen enemy. Clearly the threat is not yet gone, and the unfortunate inhabitants not yet calmed. You are stranger in this foreign land, yet even you know that this is not how things are supposed to be.

“Glory falls around us as we sob a dirge of desolation on the Cross” - Julius Caesar.

Nah, you're just joking, you have no idea who said that. It seems like an appropriate quote though, if slightly religious.

>PAST ZANE : Realize you can FLY.

What? That's ridiculous, you can- HOLY CRAP HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN FLOATING LIKE THIS