Mister Nobody

Chapter 1

Jack DeLancie awoke in the bedroom with a start, and an immediate headache. Groaning, he gently lifted his body up from the confines of the bed, the covers strewn around him in a mess from what apparently was a restless sleep. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Jack rubbed his eyes and blearily stared at the sun filtering through the curtains. The rest of the room was in the dark, but he assumed that this was his bedroom, and he'd been out on the bend yet again. He knew he had to stop drinking, and that partying until 2:00 in the morning wasn't a recipe for a healthy lifestyle. Getting up, he tried to shake off the blur of drowsiness that came with hangovers, and opened the curtains, bracing himself for the light. As the sun blinded him, he squinted and waited for his eyes to adjust, then stared out the window. When he did, he immediately paused. What he was seeing wasn't his home. In fact, it wasn't anywhere close. What he was seeing was city streets, tall buildings, cars honking as they passed by below, from what appeared to be several stories high. He was in an apartment building in New York. This wouldn't have been strange save for the fact that he lived in Connecticut, which was over 90 miles away. Jack paused as he looked out at the sunny New York City sky, then turned back to what turned out to not be his room. He was in a hotel suite, it appeared, the kind that you would normally expect from living here. There was a single queen-sized bed, a TV sitting on a table across from it, and a room down the hall which he assumed was the bathroom. Jack blinked twice, still not sure if this was all some crazy, alcohol-fuelled dream. Knowing that he needed to clear his head, he walked around the messed-up bed to the bathroom, staggering slightly as he was still trying to keep his balance.

He opened the door and fumbled for the light switch on the wall next to him. Flicking it on, he winced slightly from the harsh artificial lighting that buzzed to life above the mirror. The bathroom was about what you'd expect, a combination bath/shower, a toilet in the corner, and a sink that was right below a mirror. Turning on the tap, Jack splashed some cold water on his face, slapping his cheeks and trying to wake himself up from whatever this is. He hadn't decided if it was a dream or a nightmare yet. Looking into the mirror, he saw a young man of 27 years with forest green eyes, slightly tanned skin, and messy brown hair staring back at him. He looked like he'd been through hell, and he desperately hoped that nothing would try and drag him back. It was then that Jack realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, hopefully his. His body was slightly toned and muscular, not overly so, just enough so that he was considered fit. Knowing that he needed to get some clothes on or something, he decided the first thing to do was figure out where the hell he was, or why he was in New York. Heading back out into the bedroom, he looked around, and felt his pulse slightly begin to quicken. None of his things were there. His wallet, phone, keys, even the clothes off of his back were gone. Now things were starting to get a little crazy. He hoped he hadn't had his organs harvested or something. Looking around his body in the mirror, he didn't see any cuts, bruises, or stitches. But, turning around again, something caught his eye.

Standing still, Jack's eyes widened as he saw what appeared to be a tattoo of a chess piece, namely a rook, on his right shoulder blade. "The hell?" Jack whispered as he leaned in closer. Jack had never gotten a tattoo in his life. Maybe he'd gotten drunk enough to finally get one, but why this? None of this was making any sense, and it was starting to worry him. He needed to get in touch with someone, anyone he knew, so that he could have some semblance of clarity. Then, he heard a sound that most people nowadays would recognize: a slight buzzing that paused, then repeated over and over. It was a phone, maybe his. Looking around the room, he didn't immediately see it, then realized it might be in the bedsheets. Fumbling around and moving the sheets, he couldn't find it, and the initial panic of missing the call began to set in. Then, a single flick of the sheets revealed what he'd been looking for. It was a smartphone, but it wasn't his. A completely different model, and nowhere near as beat up as his old one. The caller ID showed that it was an Unknown Number. Even though it seemed like a bad idea, Jack didn't have too many other options. Maybe it was whoever owned the phone, and they could have some clues about the situation. Picking up the still-vibrating phone, he pressed the accept button, and held it to his ear. "Hello?"