That one time I woke up in prison

Chapter 1

He felt weightless.

His mind was cloudy and his thoughts wouldn't form correctly.

He couldn't place where he was, currently. He had vague memories of certain things, though.

He remembered building places, inviting others to join and contribute. He could hear the echoes of laughter and friendly hijinks. He also remembered pain and fear. Was it his own? Or others'? Maybe both?

He felt like he'd overslept an alarm. Perhaps he was late for school, but he'd slept in so much that maybe it just wasn't worth it to get up now.

Hm? He was a few years too old to still be in school?

Then what would he have overslept?

Huh. Strange.

. . .

Was that his alarm he heard?

No, it didn't sound right. Or even coherent.

He felt his heart start to race, though he couldn't place why.

He strained his ears, trying desperately to catch even a word of the mumbled nonsense.

∴ᔑꖌᒷ ⚍!¡. ℸ ̣ ᔑꖌᒷ ʖᔑᓵꖌ ||𝙹⚍∷ ʖ∷𝙹ꖌᒷリ ꖎ╎⎓ᒷ
(Wake up. Take back your broken life.)

Before he could begin to wonder what the word scramble meant, something grasped at his face.

A scream tore from his throat, his hands reaching up to pry off the assaulting force.

That's when things changed.

He was shoved back harshly. His head made contact with a hard wall, a crack echoing around him as hot stakes of pain clawed through his body.

Adrenaline dulled the pain, but still he struggled to sit back up, even with a wall behind him. He gasped for breath as a boot dug into his chest.

His eyes shot open, but his vision was hazy. It was nearly too dark to see properly anyway, though the far wall was bright enough to sear his vision orange and yellow.

The heel was grinded into his chest again, causing him to squirm and focus on the figure in front of him.

An unfriendly face met his eyes. The stranger had black hair and tanned skin, a pale scar running from his mouth up through his left eye. He seemed to wear a white button up shirt with a red tie, and brown suspenders.

He didn't recognise the face at first, but then it clicked.

This was Quackity. Or "Big Q". A child had asked for him to be whitelisted on the server.

But he didn't remember ever actually letting him on. Maybe he had and he didn't remember? As far as he figured, the request had been ages ago.

His confusion didn't pause time, however.

An axe was swung into the wall right beside his head, causing him to yelp and squirm away.

What in the hell was Big Q doing?

And where were they?

What was happening?

The boot was lifted from his chest as the crazed attacker struggled to pull the axe blade from the obsidian. He scrambled away from the wall as soon as he was physically unrestricted by the man.

As his adrenaline-charged limbs clawed him forward, he heard the blade be freed from behind him, and boots clanged heavily against the obsidian ground. He risked a glance behind him, and found his arms collapsing under him as the axe was swung just over his head.