⋆ Video Game Star !! ☆ TnT Duo !!

TRAIN STATION

Blinking, Wilbur opens his eyes to a cool, damp floor made of... polished granite squares?

He groans, standing up. His bones feel as wet and rigid as the floor. He looks down at his hands, which are more pale and thin than normal.

He tries not to look too long though, because for a second, they almost seem... transparent. See-through.

Wilbur sighs. Hes never seen a place so sad and dead looking, it makes his stomach curl. Looking around, he tries to remember what came before he woke up. Nothing comes to mind.

He looks down at his outfit. A jacket with straps across the chest, a yellow sweat with a gash in it, boots that are held together by cloth...

"Wilbur?" A voice asks. Wilbur spins around, nearly falling. A man with huge goat horns on his head is staring at Wilbur. Peculiar. He looks like something out of a videogame. Wilbur stares back. "You... didn't come by train." When he says it, it isn't a question.

Wilbur stands still for a long while, biting at the inside of his lip and looking past the man, at the train station beyond. It looks... endless. Vast. And it's so... cold. Misty too. Wilbur blinks, looking down at the slick granite tiles of the station.

"Did you... bring your cards?" The man prompts, and Wilbur's attention is pulled again to him.

"Cards?" Wilbur's voice does not sound like his own. He makes a noise, rubbing his throat.

"Check your pocket." He gestures with a gray hand. Wilbur is once again drawn to the giant horns on his head, but he pulls his attention to his pockets. He checks both of them, drawing a deck of cards from one.

The package is torn, the edges dull and rounded, the labeling faded. Wilbur studies them for a long minute.

He smiles a little, the cards make him feel better. Something familiar. But how? From where?

He takes a few steps forward, looking up at the man.
A train sounds.

Wilbur looks past the man, at the train traveling alongside the endless station. When Wilbur looks back, the man's expression flips. He starts striding forward, exasperatedly.

Wilbur feels momentary panic, hands on his shoulders, and suddenly, he is shoved onto the tracks.

He hits the railing with a thud. At first, Wilbur is annoyed by the pain shooting through his arm. And then it hits him. The train is approaching fast.

Wilbur scrambles to his feet, yelping when the pack of cards is kicked into his face. He looks up, at a man that looks... like himself. Like Wilbur, but... more gray, and without the jacket, and with white eyes. Blue stains drip from his eyes and mouth. He stands on the edge of the station platform.

"Whyd you fucking do that for?" The goat-horned man scowls, crossing his arms.

"Pull me up! Please!" Wilbur begs, grabbing at the platform. The deck of cards are forgotten behind him. The train is louder, closer. "Please!"

The other just stares, flinching when the goat man grabs his arm. "Why?" He asks, again.

"He's not real." The other retorts this quietly, and Wilbur can barely hear him over the death whistle of the train.

"Please! I am real! Pull me up!" Wilbur shouts, trying to jump up. His muscles give under the pressure, the adrenaline, and he falls back.

The train is so close. And loud. It consumes him. It's all he can think. He whines.

He just barely manages to grab the deck of cards, pulling them close to his chest, watching as the other Wilbur's hair is tousled with a gust of wind.

The train slams into him. There is a blinding white glare.

He isn't real. What does that mean?

Wilbur feels the pressure, feels each of his bones breaking, his skin flaying. Its excruciating.

The air is sucked from him. All he can feel is the bitter chill and the damp air of the train station. The haze sticks to his brain.

And then he is awake.