DISCLAIMER: I own no characters, ideas, or plots in this chapter or story, other than the first-person. Any characters not reserved by XxSanitariumxX are the properties of whoever owns StarFox, which is not me. Also, you should probably read Exchange Student by the author mentioned above before reading this story, because then you support him and know what's going on.

BK Prose: I'm in the game.

Prologue:

Hello, internet. I'm called [name omitted], but you can call me Ditto. Or Tallbrain, or Tallbrain123, or even George, doesn't really matter. Yes, I just broke the fourth wall, but I'm allowed to. And no, this isn't an author's note. You see, sometimes when I dream, it's more than a dream. Sometimes, I get put into an all-too-real universe, based off of a specific videogame. The dreams still have rules; I still feel pain, I can't get out until the game is beat, no matter how many days or weeks it takes, and I either take the place of my favorite character or I show up as someone else entirely. Oh, and it isn't just the same as a videogame, which have glitches. My own mind augments the game and gives it an extra layer of realism. Nothing up to this point is my choice, not even the game.

But the coolest part is the cheats. I can cheat in the game and bend reality for about one full second, doing pretty much whatever I want, at the cost of what I refer to as a Sin of the Unforgotten. (Yes, that's from Unforgotten Realms.) Basically, it feels and looks like someone's branding my left wrist with a hot iron, and until I leave the game, I can't get rid of the marks. Even weirder, the lines glow, and the others in the game can see them. I have so far assumed that five of them means game over, and that's generally a bad thing.

Oh, I've failed before. They (whoever the heck "they" are) put me in Castlevania (friggin Castlevania), and I died a few times. The game just makes me restart. I know, it sucks. That's when I found out I could cheat. Let me tell you, with one-hit kills and infinite lives, it gets a lot easier. But I've only ever gotten three of the marks, so I try to use them wisely. Besides, they hurt like crazy, so it isn't hard to avoid using them. Without further ado, I'll recount my last journey.

Chapter 1:

I didn't even know it had happened this time. Normally, I'm jolted awake and thrown through some kind of portal, and I appear in the universe in question, startling everyone nearby. But this trip wasn't normal, by any means. I only knew something had changed when I stretched out and felt the hard ground below me. I raised my head, suddenly aware of the sunlight, and saw a small variety of anthropomorphic animals, all pointing some kind of gun at my head.

Now, I'm generally a pretty laid-back guy. Heck, I don't even usually curse. But when that many people are willing to kill you, you generally sober up.

"Shit," I said, allowing myself a curse word as my head fell to the floor again and my hands slowly came up in an "I surrender" gesture. Without hesitating, they slapped some weird kind of handcuffs on me and escorted me to one of their vehicles.

Okay, I thought, I'm going through a game. But which one? If it hadn't been for the animal-looking people, I'd have thought Grand Theft Auto (I hate that game, by the way). But my mind didn't think of every game that fit the bill. There could only have been one. I'm in StarFox, I thought with a smile. Maybe not one of my favorite games, but it passed the time when it needed to. Not to mention, this was the kind of game where you can easily look like you're the best, unlike most FPS games.

Then again, being thrown into a police car didn't seem familiar from any games I'd ever played (except GTA). And so far, the only universes I'd visited were those of videogames. This one would make sense if it was the world of a story I read once. But a fanfiction from a dream about a fanfiction about a videogame? That's weird no matter who you ask. I just shrugged it off, though. My mind probably put me right in the middle of the street. I must have slept through a few minutes of time, where the police had arrested the human who had materialized from the thin air.

Although, the fanfiction idea would actually make sense. I mean, in the story, humans and Cornerians hadn't exactly been getting along. So it would make sense that they'd arrest me. But what else would change? If I already altered the timeline, could I really reach the end and get out? I blanched when I realized something else; I hadn't even read to the end of that story. I shook my head. Something was off somehow, and I had to find out what.

Heh heh...yeah...about that...do you have any idea how hard it is to convince the local police that not only are you not an enemy spy which used experimental technology to teleport to their planet, but that you're actually a denizen of a universe that, according to them, doesn't exist? Not to mention, that you need their help? It didn't go very well.

"Who sent you?!" one officer, a really, really loud bulldog shouted. These guys were jokes. They had to be the worst good-cop, bad-cop team I'd ever seen. And since they couldn't actually make me fear for my life, they were going nowhere fast. I only later found out that they had to work together because they were two of the few cops there who spoke fluent English. Everyone else apparently spoke Cornerian, and it wasn't a high priority to get me one of their automatic translator modules.

"Nobody sent me," I replied. "I already told you what happened."

"Now, I'm sure you're telling the truth," the second cop said, trying to sound sympathetic and pulling the dog out of my face. "But unless you can give me proof, I can't help you."

"Okay," I whispered, a devious idea coming to mind, "I think I want to tell you my secret now..." The "good" cop, a frog-man, leaned in to listen carefully. I lowered my voice further and finished, "I see dead people."

They somehow recognized the quote, and the frog threw up his hands in exasperation while the bulldog slammed his fist on the table in front of me, getting right up in my face. But he only managed to turn my laughter into an overconfident smirk. I didn't know what exactly their laws were, but I knew they couldn't hold me for too long without any real evidence. 'Course, I could've just cheated and got out of there, but I didn't actually think that would be a good idea.

"We'll be back to deal with you," the bulldog said threateningly.

"I'll be waiting," I said cockily. Of course, it wasn't until that moment that I realized that it'd be a good idea to get them on my good side, but it was a little too late for that. I think the Sixth Sense joke kind of threw that out the window. Assuming that this, like in the story, was just a twisted future of ours, that would explain how they understood the joke. But if the story was true, James McCloud hadn't died yet. Maybe I could do something to help. But that meant getting close to Fox McCloud, and that meant getting back into high school.

I had just graduated. I'd started school just at the end of their age group, so I'd ended up being a week too young for whatever grade I was in. That meant that people my age were still in high school. And that took away from the weirdness of my decision to go back. Of course, I had no idea which grade Fox would be in, but I figured starting as a freshman would be easiest. I glanced warily at my wrist, which didn't yet have marks, and I wondered whether it'd be worth it to add one to lower my age.

Before I could decide, the two officers returned, holding a thin file. I assumed it had everything they knew about me, which wouldn't amount to much information. The bulldog slapped the file down on the table and sat down in the only other chair, reading from it.

"So, this sheet says you're twenty years old," he began. Wrong, I thought. I decided that it would be worth it, and in the split-second before my near-infinite power faded, I changed my body's age and the age on the file to the number fifteen. He continued, ignoring my pained grunt as the mark emblazoned itself on my arm.

"...you dropped out of a school on Earth..." Also wrong.

"...and you're the son of an outspoken anti-cornerian man." Definitely wrong. Well, he wouldn't agree with the idea of humanoid animals, but he isn't outspoken about it.

"Sorry, but none of that's correct," I told him. I'd finally decided to turn off the sarcasm, hoping they could tell. "What I told you is the whole truth."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" the bulldog growled. I resisted the urge to say "yes."

"Of course not."

"So," the frog said, "you really want us to believe that you come from a universe that doesn't exist?"

"A universe in which you don't exist," I corrected. He only stared at me. "It isn't so hard to imagine," I told him. I began to wonder if the mark on my wrist could actually help me. "I mean, look at my file again. See the age?"

The frog and bulldog both looked again, and I swear, the bulldog would've dropped his jaw if it hadn't been attached.

"How'd you do that?" he accused. I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the mark.

"I didn't have this before. Now I do. This is only a side-effect of something that does prove that I'm telling you the truth."

"Okay," the frog said, "Changing the file would be difficult, but it's doable. Giving yourself a glowing tattoo in under a minute is harder, but I don't think it's impossible. You don't think that we trust you already, do you?"

"How old would you say I am now?" I asked, looking him in the eye. His eyes widened, and he double-checked the file. He said something in Cornerian to the bulldog, leaning on his chair calmly. The dog bristled and squinted at me before saying something back. The frog said something else, and the bulldog left the room in a huff.

"Forgive him," the frog said, taking his seat and closing the file. "Is there any way we can help with...whatever it is you're doing?"

"Yeah," I told him. "Ever heard of a James McCloud?"

"Who hasn't?" he asked, amused.

"I need to find his son. And I need to enroll in the school he's going to."

The frog hesitated. "That is...an odd request. Do you have any living arrangements in the mean time? Or at least a translator?"

"No. Remember, I just fell out of the sky."

"Well, I think I might be able to help you there. After all, you seem to be a minor now."

The bulldog came back into the room and tossed a clear bag my way. I barely managed to catch it before it bounced off of my chest onto the ground.

"The only thing we found on you before you woke up," he explained before leaving. I opened the bag and pulled out my iPod, looking questioningly at it. It was an iPod Touch, fourth generation, old by my standards for technology. A single crack ran across its center from side to side, but not from top to bottom. But what really concerned me was that it was here. In any other journeys, I hadn't had anything. And nothing else showed up this time; the wallet and keys that I always kept with me hadn't come, and even the headphones that I always wrapped around the iPod hadn't appeared.

"So why is this here?" I whispered to myself.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I'll be honest, this idea came out of the blue. I did explain it mostly in the prologue, and I do plan on making a number of these. I love it because I can put my sarcasm, shortcomings, and knowledge into a videogame, while subtly (or not-so-subtly) changing the storyline. And yeah, this one specifically isn't based off of a game. It's based off of a fanfiction on this very website.

Oh, and I should mention that this story, including the Prologue, IS FICTIONAL. It'd be awesome, but it doesn't actually happen.

EDIT: As of now, I'm taking a step back to remove the self-insertion aspect. The first-person, while vaguely reminiscent of me, is not assumed to be me.