The Breaking of the Timeline.

John turned the corner, it was late, about midnight. He just finished his work. He worked as a game designer in a big black company, he was exhausted. This was the first time he went back home in almost three months.

He couldn't wait to see his wife and kids, It was a wonder they didn't leave him. He was barely home, damn he was a terrible father. It's OK, he would finish this game and go back to his family, his boss promised everyone a month vacation then. He could see his house in the distance, It was a two stories apartment, with a nice varanda with some flowers on the second floor. Begonias, his wife's favorites, he went for his keys when a motorcycle stopped right next to him.

'Strange' he thought, this was a residential area, and none of his neighbors owned a motorcycle.

He turned to see two men, no, a man and a boy, no more than sixteen, with motorbike helmets with the visors up. The man had mean eyes, looking at those eyes, John knew, he was f*cked, and he would never forget them, they would haunt him forever.

"Open the gate" said the pipsqueak, aiming a revolver to the man's head.

It was a dumb idea, he would probably die. Die. His children would grow without a father. But… he knew, that bastard, his eyes, if he lest him in his house… he wouldn't let anyone live, it was like he was going against something primal, something deep inside him, but he reacted.

And the gun shot, and the world turned dark.

---

He saw the same scene again, but this time, he let them in, four gunshots, four deaths, their bodies forgotten to time, some morned, but lived on nonetheless.

---

Same scene, but he stole the gun from the kid, two gunshots, he died, the kid fell with him.

---

Again, he opened the house, but someone called the police, they got there, happy ending.

---

Stole the gun, killed the adult first, the teenage reacted, another shot, the teenage died, go to trial for self-defense happy ending.

---

The police arrived, gunfight, he died along with the criminals.

---

Again, and again, and again. For an infinite number of times, like a broken clock that repeats only death, an infinite number of him, a infinite number of variations of that same night. He stayed like that to him what felt like years, but in fact, only for a moment, then he, just like all humans on the blue planet heard a message:

[Hello Lord. Welcome To The Lord's Trial]