"Chuck."

If one could try staring at Charles Irving Bartowski – aka Chuck, the twenty-three year-old lanky brown-haired Stanford dropout – they wouldn't find anything interesting about him. And he didn't blame people for that. He knew what he was.

Ridiculously average.

"Chuck, pay attention."

He really felt like he could use some sleep but the workload kept piling up, and the Buy More was the only place willing to employ someone branded as a cheater. Even though it was his roommate / best friend, Bryce "Douchebag" Larkin, who put those papers under his bed. As if that wasn't enough – instead of comforting him or backing him up, his girlfriend (whom he was planning to marry, which in retrospect would have been somewhat hasty) actually slept with Bryce. What a fantastic way to add insult to injury. He had no option but to work extra hours because he couldn't afford to disappoint his manager.

"Chuck!"

The woman in front of him literally yelled in his face, jolting the young man from his introspection and off his desk, which he grabbed to stop himself hitting the floor. He let out a sigh as he found himself facing an exasperated glare from his newly appointed assistant manager. Understandably, he was actually trying catch a bit of a power nap after dealing with dozens of broken computers.

All he could offer was an apologetic look. No excuses. He literally ran out of everyone he had. "Sorry, Hannah."

And he was. Most guys at the Buy More would have been chomping at the bit and wouldn't have even dreamed of falling asleep if they had the chance to share work-space with Hannah Williams.

They weren't friends. Even acquaintances would be a long stretch – which was unfortunate, seeing as she was quite an incredible girl.

She had long dark hair, green eyes, and a body to go with it all. Furthermore, she was a UCLA graduate, she successfully juggled her Buy More job with freelance contracts and her parents were really rich. And last but not least, she was going to leave this place by month's end.

However, Chuck knew very well where he stood in terms of social hierarchy. His chances of getting anywhere past her name were... arguably somewhere between 'fat chance' and 'snowball's chance in hell'.

Letting out a sigh, Hannah shook her head. "It's alright. You are the only one who managed to get halfway. The others are still far behind." She tapped on the table, glancing at the completed socket. "You know – if you try a bit harder, you can still get something out of life. I mean compared to the others, you do some quality work around here."

Laughing a bit, Chuck nodded in gratitude. "Thanks."

Hannah rolled her eyes in irritation. Despite what people believed, she was quite attentive to detail and the fact that she was studying management also helped. This guy was probably the only decent techie the place had to offer and he didn't seem to have many friends. He was trying to get someone hired – Moran or something like that – but the manager hadn't approved their application yet. She knew he was kicked out from Stanford but didn't know the exact details. Though he didn't seem like someone who would engage in any sort of problematic activities.

"Do you want a hand? I studied the same subjects as you did." She offered.

"Nah, I am pretty fine on my own." Chuck waved his hands with a lame smile and immediately became absorbed in his work.

Hannah frowned a bit before walking away. If the idiot was too prideful to admit that he could use some help, she had no reason to help him out. In the end, it wasn't her business.

...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx...

Well after eight in the evening, Chuck entered his residence (or rather, Ellie and Devon's residence). Both of them were out of town, on some romantic trekking trip. Morgan was visiting his cousin in Canada. In short, he had the house all to himself... which didn't make him feel any better. Perhaps he should have stayed at Buy More for the extra bucks.

He walked around the room, glancing at the picture of his parents. Just thinking about them instilled a dull anger, the sort one feels when a long-standing issue couldn't be resolved.

His father was a commercial scientist / engineer who disappeared seven years ago; his mother had been gone for so long that he couldn't remember anything about her besides her name and picture.

One after another, both of them left him and Ellie.

With no contingency plan, no contact around to take them in and no money to help them out, Chuck would have become a 14 year-old ward of the state were it not for Ellie – somehow – successfully juggling her high school / college education with her new role as his de facto surrogate mother. Thankfully, they managed to pull through; he got into Stanford and Ellie got into medical school.

But then Larkin had to strike.

His degree and fiancée were now gone. He was tagged as a cheater and would never be able to work as an official software engineer or (as he ultimately wanted) to become the next Bill Gates. At least his sister found some sort of closure in life – she was a doctor and had a lovely and awesome boyfriend. But he was still stuck in the hole. If the cause had been of his own making, that might have been easier to accept. Not this. It would have been funny if this entire scenario wasn't so pathetic.

He had enough of the 9-to-5 crap, but what the hell was he going to do with his own life? Everything was so confusing, so frustrating and it just made him very angry.

Clenching his fists tightly, he walked into his room (it was originally his father's before he disappeared). He started stomping on everything with a purpose. He had many ideas when he was at Stanford. Ideas which could have made him rich and famous. Perhaps if he took a good look at them, he could reignite that spark he once had. However, the passing of time meant his notes made less sense than they used to, and his designs were either too complicated to work on alone or too costly to actualize. A part of him felt that he might have just lost his edge or perhaps his work from back then wasn't as relevant three years later. He just didn't know what to do about it.

Though tearing through his own closet felt therapeutic.

Eventually, he found something lying behind his drawer. A small case, which appeared to be a bit old and dusty but something about it screamed 'important'. His father's name was written on it and just reading that was enough to send him into a small fit of rage.

He was so upset he didn't even notice the biometric scanner on the front and when his finger brushed against it the case opened with a loud hiss, momentarily startling him. As soon as it opened, he was quite surprised to find a wristwatch of sorts and a bunch of little instruments alongside manuals which seemed like gibberish.

What the hell is this?

As he pulled out the light green, somewhat shiny wristwatch, Chuck had to admit it looked moderately trendy.

It doesn't show the time, though. Perhaps it needs a battery.

The moment he placed it on his wrist, the watch started producing a multitude of images and audio files. What amused him most was the image of Ryu from Street Fighter. It was followed by a guy climbing a mountain. Then a sparring match between two Marines. Then someone in a bomb disposal suit trying to deactivate an explosive. It was hard to make sense of these things. Or figure out what on earth was happening, because Chuck – try as he might – was unable to look away. There was a comfortable tingle inside his brain; a sensation which felt simultaneously pleasant and stimulating. Before long, everything became a blur and his eyes remained glued to the small dial of the watch...

...until it clicked off on its own. The involuntarily compelling slide show was replaced with what appeared to be the date and time.

No way! It's almost midnight?!

Chuck shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't have spent more than a few minutes staring at those images, right? That didn't make sense. Immediately, he stared at his own reflection in the mirror and was quite horrified at what he saw – his skin was pale, his eyes bloodshot and he was shaking furiously. He clenched his stomach, starting to feel nauseous all of a sudden.

He did the only thing he could do. He passed out.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

I finally have a Beta XD