Balin sat over the kitchen table or rather the large sheet of plywood screwed on to two up turned bins. There was a vague memory that this was the upgrade, they'd originally only had the one bin and no plywood. In fact maybe they just had a spare bin. He was sitting in a student digs, evidenced by how it managed that mix of permanently draughty and somehow musty and damp that is only available to blisteringly poor and students. In fact he was becoming increasingly certain it was his uni flat, from his second year specifically, which if anything only made it more worrying that yesterday he remembered being in his 50s. That and he remembered dying while doing his best to kick the apocalypse's teeth in.
A few minutes ago he'd opened his eyes sitting in this kitchen, he was clearly in the body that should be here, it lacked the scars that even his healing factor had struggled with, his face looked embarrassingly fresh and his muscles had the sculpted look which the young can access easier than the old. The reason he was staring into the middle distance eye's unfocused, was the cell phone in his hand next to him, it was a Nokia 3310. He remembered this phone, it was outdated even when he went to Uni but always reliable even after he took a beating in a fight so he'd kept it. It had some texts, some numbers in and the ability to play Snake. What was blowing his mind was the date. It was October same as it had been yesterday, the days were a bit out, nothing, a stint in a regenerating from some mortal wound couldn't explain, the main issue was it was minus around thirty years.
He quietly counted down from ten again, he couldn't quite get himself to do anything when he reached zero, apart from restart. He thought back to yesterday, or the future or... no that way madness lies. He thought back to yesterday. He was fighting the Grey, shadows of undeveloped futures that tore at reality. Their target was the last of humanity being piled through portals held open by mages while the empowered fought them off. He stood back to back with Gwen. Her magic blasting through them and they held back the onslaught, hoping that enough would get away, that the portals would close. Then they did and he threw aside his blade and held her as they... '
A wave of emotion knocked him from the chair, and landed him on the stained linoleum floor still sticky from spilled drinks from the last house party. He felt anguish confusion and a deep fear. A yawning chasm absent of confidence. He looked at the date on the phone again but he knew it in his twenty year old mind that this wasn't a lie. Today was important. It was Gwen's 20th birthday. While his memories seemed intact he couldn't really picture this day, despite it feeling like it should be momentous. He had to go give her a present, an important present. Before that though he should probably go to get training before Jay yelled at him, no Jay was away. He then had to see Lana. Dredging up those names was like opening a long abandoned crypt, even as he hurriedly shut it the smell and sight of the vileness within lingered. His body and mind fought, 50 years of memories trying to fit into 20 years of brain.
Sensing it's que the phone chirped at him. He couldn't remember how to navigate it, but his body knew, it sent his fingers dancing across the keys. It was an alert to get to bed as he had to be up soon. Looking through texts he deliberately ignored Lana's note saying she hoped he got home okay from work and saw the most recent other option was from Jay yesterday. 'SQUIRE TRAINING NOW! DO NOT MISS IT. I WILL KNOW. JAY' it was the only text he'd sent while he was away on business. He could feel his brain try to stand up and get him to bed so he could be off to the training hall in a bit. It was 2 in the morning and he'd have to be up relatively soon, but he fought it down. He didn't have to do anything for that liar. The text well reflected the man who sent it, loud, blunt and threatening. 20 year old Balin had a healthy respect for the man which was only different to terror because he'd otherwise have the courage to run away. Old Balin didn't really want to reexamine the balance between mentor and tormentor but was at least smart enough to know which leg to kick to get the headstart needed to escape the old bastard.
The door to the kitchen opened and a wave of weed and optimistic but ultimately useless incense announced the arrival of his housemate, Scugs. The incense was connected to the vague hope of getting the deposit back on this place, ignoring that the knife marks in the wall that were more likely the sticking point, at least they'd got the blood out. Balin remembered all this as he looked up at Scugs, last he'd seen him he'd been an ageing hippy with a weed empire and a key weapon for a group of near militant environmentalists. Right now he was the man who he found regularly passed out on the couch. He only realised he was still on floor when Scugs as he tripped over his outstretched feet. The man collapsed onto the ground beside him.
"Hey man, sorry about that. What are you doing on the floor man?" said Scugs oozing his normal calm, unaware or uncaring, of his transition from vertical to horizontal.
There were many reasons that someone with Balin's special background could find himself 'believing' he was in the past. They ranged from dark matter powered splinter reality machines to dreams woven by ethereal spiders, he'd even spent time in at least two fake realities living out alternate lives. However he was utterly confident that no mystical mage or tech wizard could possibly have rendered Scugs in such detail. While his Mediterranean housemate was at first look a scrawny shorter man, that was were commonalities with other large members of the human race ended. The full Scugs experience was something that the mind purged out of self preservation, from the questionable green flecks between his toes that was either long lost weed or a worrying foot condition, to the coffee coloured hair that was pressed flat on one side but curly on the other no one aspect of him fit into a box that could be labelled normal. Some if now stuck to the floor.
"Morning Scugs, I'm doing an exercise thing." His voice sounded both perfectly normal and also utterly fake. It was like hearing a young actor doing a poor imitation of an older one. He got up. Scugs was still looking at the ground, his brain unable to handle any speed beyond peak chill. Knowing it was likely a longshot he asked a question as he propped up his friend. "You didn't notice anything weird happening just now?"
"Well you were on the floor, then I was. Before that no, you made me a hot choc when you came in from work, it was chill." said Scugs, his body dragging itself to the otherside of the kitchen, opened a cupboard door and clearly on autopilot caught a bag of crisps that fell out. "See you later man." He half left the room before popping his head back in. "Hey also Jay said I had to tell him if you didn't go to train. I'm not doing that though dude's a prick. So have a lie in and see Gwen for her birthday." With that Scugs left, the smell of weed remained, having completed it's complete domination of the pathetic tones of incense. Well there was no other explanation for it he had to be in the past. He checked the date and felt cogs begin to turn.
Upstairs his room had that tidiness that comes from military training; everything had its place and its purpose. Not that he'd been in the military but with Jay he lived like he did. As thoughts bubbled up he pushed them right down. Even if young brain hadn't been feeding him tips he was certain he'd know where everything in the room was, so ingrained into his soul the routine had become. He pulled out the duffel bag that had his training gear in and fought down the surging panic and confusion. He was in the past, currently in London and soon if he remembered correctly his life was going to get very complicated. Living in a ten mile radius was some of the cast of his later years, allies, enemies, and those who flitted between the two. On the outside chance that an enemy had woken up in the same situation as him he needed to get his hands on something. There it was.
