Universe 109677
Samuel sat in his office, staring at the screen, fingers tapping aimlessly on the keyboard. The dull hum of fluorescent lights overhead only made his boredom worse. He had been stuck in this boring office all day, just clicking away through some pointless tasks.
"HAAAA! This is a freakin' boring life!" Samuel groaned, throwing his head back like he was in some dramatic anime scene. His eyes darted to the clock—it was almost time to go home, but the minutes felt like hours. He sighed for the twentieth time that hour.
"SAMUEL! Keep it down!" his boss snapped from across the room, not even looking up from his endless stack of soul-sucking paperwork.
"Yes, sir…" Samuel muttered under his breath, slumping into his chair like a deflated balloon. If only I could get out of here, he thought bitterly, staring at his reflection in the monitor. I hope he dies....Wait, no. That was a little much.
As the clock finally hit five, Samuel bolted out of the office like a bat out of hell. He didn't even log out. He could practically hear the Final Fantasy victory music playing in his head.
Outside, his best friend, Hank, was waiting for him in the parking lot, casually munching on a massive hotdog that looked like it defied physics.
"Hey, Hank," Samuel called out, stretching his arms like a free man.
"Hmmm?" Hank mumbled, his mouth full of the hotdog, mustard smeared across his cheek. He looked like a toddler in a grown man's body.
Samuel chuckled. "Don't you think life would be way more exciting if we could meet our own variants?"
Hank raised an eyebrow, chewing dramatically. "Like in that anime you're working on?"
"Yeah, exactly! Just think about it—me, but not me. Like, one of me's godlike, or something cool like that!" Samuel's eyes lit up like he was pitching a million-dollar idea.
Hank snorted. "Man, you'd probably get into trouble if you met another version of yourself. I'm talkin' explosions, betrayals, the whole multiverse soap opera."
Samuel smirked. "Still sounds better than spreadsheets and deadlines."
"Fair point," Hank said, nodding. "Alright, alright. This is your stop, right?"
"Yep. Later, dude," Samuel said, waving as he headed up the stairs to his apartment.
He pulled out his keys, humming some random tune. But as he reached his door, he froze. It was slightly open.
"What the…?" he muttered. Did I leave the door open today? I never leave the door open. That's how people die in horror movies.
He pushed it open slowly. Silence. But the sound of water running from the bathroom sent a jolt down his spine. A cold, creeping dread settled in his chest.
"Someone's in there…"
He crept into the kitchen, heart pounding, and grabbed the deadliest thing within arm's reach—a can of chili sauce. Yeah, that'll show 'em.
"HELLO?! If you don't come out right now, I'm calling the cops!" he yelled.
No answer.
"Fine… guess I'll have to do this the hard way."
He tiptoed toward the bathroom like some discount ninja, chili sauce in hand. His fingers trembled slightly.
With a swift kick, Samuel burst open the door. "HAAAA! Hands up, or I—!"
The shower turned off, and a man stepped out of the tub, casually pulling back the curtain like he wasn't trespassing.
Samuel's eyes almost popped out of his skull. "AAAAAA! WHO ARE YOU?! WHY DO YOU HAVE MY FACE?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! AND WHY IS IT SO BIG?!"
The stranger blinked. "...Sorry, what was that last part?"
Samuel blinked rapidly. "Uh—nothing! Just tell me who you are or I swear I'll chili-spray you!"
The man raised his hands slightly. "Relax, dude. I mean no harm."
"STAY RIGHT THERE!" Samuel yelled again, keeping the can raised like it was a weapon of mass destruction.
The man stepped forward slowly, calm as ever. "Do we really have to do this?"
"Yes, we freakin' do!" Samuel snapped. "You broke into my apartment! Took a shower! Who does that?!"
The stranger sighed like he was tired of Samuel already. "Guess it can't be helped."
Before Samuel could blink, the stranger blurred forward like a glitch in reality and knocked him out cold with a tap to the neck.
When Samuel finally came to, everything hurt. His head throbbed like a marching band was playing inside his skull. His arms were tied to a chair, and his mouth was dry like sandpaper.
"...What the hell..." he mumbled, squinting.
In his kitchen, the stranger from earlier was casually making tea like this was some chill Sunday morning.
"Good gods, you're finally awake. Now we can talk," the man said, sipping his tea like he hadn't just assaulted someone.
Samuel groaned. "Then UNTIE ME!"
"Only if you promise to behave," the stranger replied, smirking.
Samuel narrowed his eyes. "Do I look like I can do anything right now?!"
"...Good point," the man muttered and untied him.
The second Samuel's hands were free, he bolted toward the door like his life depended on it—but as soon as he grabbed the handle, CRACK—the entire thing turned into solid concrete.
"OW! WHAT THE—" Samuel clutched his hand, eyes wide. "What kind of Looney Tunes magic is this?!"
"Chill," the man said. "Just a little safety precaution. I had to make sure you'd actually listen."
Samuel turned around, rubbing his sore knuckles. "You expect me to listen after that ninja stunt?"
"Yes," the stranger said, deadpan. "Let's start. First off, I am you."
Samuel stared blankly. "...What?"
The man pointed to his own chest. "I'm Samuel Villiades. You, but from another universe."
Samuel blinked. "...Nah. Nope. This is too much for a Monday."
"I get it. It's a lot."
Samuel pointed accusingly. "That... doesn't explain why you look so big!"
The stranger tilted his head. "What?"
"Nothing! Just—none of this makes sense!"
"It will soon. Just call me One."
"One? You're naming yourself One? That's so ominous! Do I get a cool number too?"
"No. You're just... you."
"Wow. Thanks."
Before either of them could say anything else, a loud crash erupted outside. The windows shook.
"...Oh crap," One muttered, eyes narrowing. "He's here."
Samuel's stomach dropped. "WHO?! WHO'S HERE?!"
Suddenly, the window exploded inward in a burst of glass and wind. A massive figure stepped through, dragging shadows behind it like smoke. Its red eyes glowed like lava, and its body was twisted and monstrous, like a nightmare made flesh.
Samuel stumbled back, heart racing. "W-WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!"
One stepped in front of him protectively. His voice dropped. "He's one of them. A variant."
Samuel blinked. "A variant?! You mean there's more of you—us—me?!"
"And not all of them are friendly," One said, eyes glowing faintly gold. "This one's come to kill you."
"...OH HELL NO!"
TO BE CONTINUED...