“Ooooookaaayyy” I slowly loosen my stance and quizzically stare at the uh… “bartender.” He still stands there, wiping down a glass. My high school self, for that matter. “I think I know what would do ya good.” He points a finger up, turns back around, and pours a bottle into the glass he was wiping down. After a few clinks and clangs, he turns back around and sets the glass down on the bar sliding it over to the edge. “If I remember correctly, you’re a whisky guy. Funny how the military gets you a taste of your first alcohol.” I stare at him with a furrowed eyebrow, still guarded and confused about all this. But at this point, I’m too tired to really care, and the more I act like this, the more I’ll feel delusional, if not already. I sigh and finally relent, letting loose my shoulders and sitting on one of the bar stools across from the bartender, glass in hand. I take a sip. Huh. Smoky. The other “Me” goes to start wiping down another glass as we sit in silence for what seems like an eternity before I finally speak up. “So… are you… the same guy I saw earlier? Or are you another weird version of me that came to tell me I’m a fuckup?” He looks up and smiles, not smug with malice or any joking intent. “Both, actually. Though You’ll find me to actually be quite docile compared to him.” I scoff at his remark. I gotta get on with this already. Taking another sip, I ask, “So, who are you then? A part of my mind that’s calm and collected, gonna spit some wisdom at me?” He shrugs, “If that’s what your idea of me might be, then sure. But I’m not.” His smile fades and gets more serious as his mouth turns into a slight frown. He takes a deep sigh before speaking. “I’m a version of you that fucked up immensely.” I lean back in my chair and cock my head to the side slightly. Fucked up more than I have with my squad? What could I possibly have done in my high school years did I do? He turns around and starts walking down the bar to fetch a different bottle. But...I notice he’s hobbling. He looks like he is straining not to put too much pressure on the leg that’s hurt… and the way he hobbles is all too recognizable. This is the type of hobble you get when you encounter physical trauma to the leg, such as breaking your leg from a fall, or crash, or… suffering from a gunshot wound. I quickly lean over the bar table toward his way and look down towards his feet, and lo and behold, it’s wrapped in bandages with a dried blood splotch on the jeans. My eyes widen as I slowly look back up at him and I lean back in my seat as he slowly hobbles his way back over to my side. The curiosity gets to me. “What… what happened?” He sets the bottle down with his back towards me, slowly dropping his head, and sighs. “I talked too much. Said things I shouldn't have said. I broke things with the people I should’ve cherished. Instead of listening and being there for others, I did what I thought was best, and it ended in a bloodbath.” His hands clench the bar table hard with every word he speaks, his voice getting more emotional. “I messed up bad. And it led me to lose my friends, whatever semblance of a family that thought of me as a family, any future that I had all wasted away.” I stare at him intensely, drink in hand, but not taking a swig. Whatever this version of me has done… It’s fucked him up to the point of collapse, and honestly, it… kinda scares me. He lifts his head up and sighs before turning back around as a tear edges on the side of his face before wiping it away. “That waste has led me here. A place where I, like you, didn’t know where I was… that is, of course… after finding out what I did to myself months after the major fuckup.” I didn’t need to pry at all to fill up the context clues of the fuckup. Something happened with his version of Fang that led him to spiral out of control and end up in Limbo. A different question pops into my mind, “So… is this your way of atonement or something…? He shrugs as he leans on the bar table, picking up the bottle he brought, and starts wiping it down with a cloth napkin. “Dunno, rather than atonement, I want peace. But death seems too… much for me. And I haven’t really thought about going back or forward. I’m stuck here based on my own volition.” I look back down at the drink in hand and take a swig before laying the glass back down again. All this information is a lot to take in. Here I thought I was fucked in the head or that I was being drugged up by those meteor dodgers, but after hearing this, it got me thinking about my situation. But not before I heard another voice to my left “If you don’t wanna believe anything he said, then believe me. My regrets weigh heavily on me, and I know what I’m atoning for.” I nearly jump in my seat as I see another version of me, as hunky as I am, but dressed in all black from head to toe, black joggers, a black sweatshirt, and a black beanie on top. Rocking a scruffy beard that screams “doomer” and the bloodshot eyes of a man who is at the edge of his nerve. His arms are folded and shoulders sunk as a cigarette loosely sits in his mouth. The bartender hobbles over to him with a glass and the bottle as he pops the top and pours him a glass, before hobbling to a place between us. The other Anon inhales his cig and puffs it out before speaking. “My dumbass shipped off right after I was “done” with high school. I… also said some things I shouldn't have said.” He picks up the glass to take a sip but stops halfway, he looks at the glass before scowling and placing it down. Hard. “I came back after my tour and landed right back where I started; everyone was gone from my life; I just breezed by and one day saw… saw my fuckup. And instead of fixing it, I… walked away.” His blank expression suddenly drops as he puts his hand on his forehead, and a frown forms on his face. He puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales, holding in the smoke and exhaling. I look at the bartender, he’s had his arms folded as he leans against the bar table behind him as he looks down with his eyes closed and nods, agreeing with every word he says. I look down at my glass and take another swig, finishing off what was left and putting it down. Seems like whatever this version of me also fucked up big time, bad to the point where he ran away from his problem and felt like he didn’t have a choice… kinda like Lucy felt before I left… Whatever happened with both of them, it seemed like this whole meeting was meant to be. Both of them fucked up in their uh... Worlds? Timelines? Whatever. But I don’t get why they’re telling me this… “So that you don’t fuck up like we did” I look up at both of them to see both of their eyes on me. The beanie-wearing me puts a hand on my shoulder, turning me to him. “We both have our version of atonement. We’re here to tell you not to let it get to this point. Don’t mess up the way we did.” His grip on my shoulder tightens, “We loved our version of Fang, our Lucy, we wanted what was best for them, but… in our own thoughts and words, we didn’t think things through like we should. We don’t want that happening to you.” He releases his grip on my shoulder, letting me lean back. I look down at my legs, taking in everything that was said to me before looking back between them. “I… I don’t know where to go from here, you guys… I feel like everything from here on out would be a waste. After learning my current fate, I don’t wanna disappoint her when I get back.” “You don’t have to worry about that..” Another voice pops up behind me, again, nearly making me jump in my seat; it's the same version of me from when I first met. God, are any of these idiots just gonna come in normally? He leans against the bar and snaps his fingers to the bartender for a glass, the bartender nods and hobbles his way to oblige. “Your Lucy will be fine if you’re truthful and faithful to her. Don’t dismiss her troubles; help her when she needs it. You’ve gotten farther than these guys, but their effort wasn’t in vain. It’s why they’re here. We want you to realize you need to face this all head-on. We want you to be happy. …It’s what we’ve all wanted.” He looks past me. I turned around in my seat to see both of them nodding slightly to themselves, a small scowl on their faces, filled with regret for the way their paths had taken them. I look back at my empty glass on the table and take it into my hands. Well… If there’s one thing these guys are right about, it’s the fact I can’t run away from my problems anymore. Lucy was waiting for me to come home, and by God, I will make sure it happens. I look to the bartender and gesture my glass to the air; he hobbles his way towards me, popping open the bottle and pouring me a glass. I nod to him and then look at all the Anons around me before chuckling. “Well then… a toast. For a better future.”