Dallas had remembered his death, he remembered the pain and the circumstances; but he thought he would go to sleep. He didn't expect whatever the hell this was, he had awoken in the middle of the street where he had died, his anger boiling for an unknown reason.

His death couldn't have been a dream, it felt too real, and plus, who would leave him to lay in the middle of the street..? It didn't make any sense. He looked down at himself and saw the gunshot wounds from when the fuzz had shot him down, it made him even more confused. He was also dressed the exact way he had been when he had died.

When he stood up thats when he noticed you staring at him from afar, all bloodied up and with barely an expression until he looked at you,

"The hell is this place?" he asked, trying to seem tough.. What a stupid time to do that.