"Happy New Year!" Cheers erupted, blending with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. The Zaid household buzzed with life, the warm glow of celebration reflecting in every corner. Frank stood in the middle of it all, watching his family with an ache in his chest. This moment was one he thought he'd never experience again, the year was 2030.
His mother, her soft features lit with a smile, turned to him. "Frank, are you alright?" she asked, her voice as gentle as he remembered.
Tears stung his eyes. Without answering, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her. He buried his face in her shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of lavender that used to calm him as a child. "I've missed you," he whispered, his voice breaking.
She patted his back, a confused laugh escaping her lips. "You saw me yesterday!"
But Frank couldn't speak. The image of her pale, lifeless face in a hospital bed loomed in his memory, her death an unbearable weight he'd carried for years. Now, she was warm, alive, and smiling. For five long minutes, he clung to her, his tears soaking into her sweater.
When he finally let go, he turned to his father. The older man stood stiffly by the door, arms crossed, his brow furrowed. "Are you done crying?" he asked, though his voice lacked the bite it might have carried years ago.
Frank straightened, wiping his face. "Yeah, Dad," he said, managing a faint smile.
His father grunted but didn't say more. Frank knew the man had always been proud of him, even if he rarely showed it. That pride, however, had been tested by the family's constant struggles. The weight of their $500,000 debt had been a silent burden, one his father bore without complaint.
A movement caught Frank's eye. His little sister, Mellie, stood off to the side, her arms crossed and her lips quirked in amusement. "Big bro," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You're crying like a baby. What's wrong with you?"
Frank chuckled despite himself. "Don't stare, Mellie," he said, using the nickname she insisted on.
She rolled her eyes. "You're so weird," she said, but there was warmth in her teasing tone. Mellie, a prodigy who deserved far more than their family could provide, had given up so much for them. Frank had failed her once. He wouldn't fail her again.
The celebration blurred into the background as Frank's thoughts turned inward. He was 22 again, but the memories of his death played out vividly in his mind, dragging him back to that fateful night.
The streetlights had flickered above as he and Rocco stumbled out of the bar, their laughter tinged with tension.
"You're too uptight, man," Rocco slurred, throwing an arm over Frank's shoulders. "It's just a damn item. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"
Frank shrugged him off, his steps quickening. "It's not just an item," he snapped. "I worked for it. I earned it. Do you have any idea what it took to get that drop? Months of grinding, hours in that dungeon—half my team didn't make it to the end."
Rocco's chuckle was sharp and mocking. "Alright, hero," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But Monolith wants it, and you know how they play. You can't hold out forever. Why fight it?"
Frank stopped abruptly, spinning to face Rocco. "I'm done with Monolith," he said, his voice low but firm. "They took everything I worked for and left me with scraps. This is mine, and I'm not selling it. Not to them, and not to anyone."
Rocco's smirk twisted into something colder. "You think you're better than them?" he asked, his voice sharp. "You think you can survive on your own? Let me tell you something, Frankie—you're nothing without Monolith. You're nothing without me."
Frank let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You know what, Rocco? I thought you were my friend. But all you care about is what Monolith wants. Go back to them if you love them so much. Leave me out of it."
The tension crackled in the cold night air as they reached the staircase leading down to the street. Rocco's hand curled into a fist, but his grin returned, sharp and menacing.
"You know," he said, his tone casual but laced with menace, "you should really loosen up. All this stress? It's bad for you."
Before Frank could respond, Rocco shoved him.
Frank's feet slipped on the wet steps, and the world tilted violently. His body tumbled down, each impact sending searing pain through him. When his head struck the edge of a step, the world went white-hot, and then dark.
Distantly, he heard Rocco's voice, distorted and faint. "Guess you should've just sold the damn thing," Rocco muttered, his footsteps fading into the night.
Frank lay there, blood pooling beneath him, the cold concrete sapping what little strength he had left. Darkness crept in, but one thought burned in his mind: You'll pay for this, Rocco. All of you will.
Now, standing in his family's living room, Frank tightened his grip on the present. His mother was alive. Mellie's future hadn't been crushed. He had been given a second chance, and he wouldn't waste it.
In just five days, January 5th, Underworld Online would launch. It wasn't just a game, it was a revolution. In just 2 years time, 90% of the worlds population would be logged into this game, its in-game economy tied directly to real-world currency would change everything. Guilds would rise, controlling vast territories and raking in fortunes. Monolith had used the game to amass power and wealth, crushing anyone who stood in their way.
But this time, Frank wouldn't be a victim. He knew the strategies, the rare items, and the hidden quests. He would use that knowledge to rise to the top. Monolith, Rocco, and everyone else who had wronged him would pay.
Looking at his family, Frank made a silent promise. He would save his mother. He would secure Mellie's future. And he would dominate Underworld Online.
This was his second chance, and nothing would stand in his way.