David sat hunched on the edge of the bed, the revolver heavy and cold in his hands. His thumb trembled over the cylinder as if even his body was arguing with his mind. Empty beer cans and past-due bills littered the carpet around his feet.
"Welp… this is it for me," he muttered, a bitter laugh hitching in his throat.
"I can't take life anymore. Lost my job. My family hates me 'cause I wasted their money. My breath smells like ass… and my girlfriend…" his voice cracked. "That dirty b----, she cheated on me with Tyrone. Said he's bigger, richer, more handsome, six-five…"
He stared at the wall, blinking through tears.
"I can't help being five-seven. But I guess none of that matters now, does it?"
His knuckles whitened on the grip. For a moment he lowered the gun, staring at it, jaw trembling.
"God… please," he whispered, looking at the cracked ceiling. "Take me to heaven. Not hell."
He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.
Bang.
Silence. A ringing in his ears. His body slumped sideways onto the bed; blood bloomed darkly across the sheets. For the first time in years, his face was relaxed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Then—air. Sweet, cool air. Birds. David's eyes snapped open. He was lying on his back under a huge blue sky, the kind you only see in travel brochures. Rolling clouds drifted lazily above him. He blinked, sat up, heart hammering.
Soft grass brushed his palms—short and springy like velvet. A warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and something he couldn't name but felt like nostalgia.
"What the hell…?" he murmured, spinning in place. "Where am I?"
He stood up, the ground springy under his bare feet. He could hear a brook somewhere nearby, and in the distance, mountains rose like painted scenery. Not a single building or road in sight.
"Wow… so… this must be heaven," he said slowly, turning in a slow circle. "It's so… peaceful…"
Then he looked down at himself.
"Wait a minute… why am I naked?" His voice jumped an octave. "And—WHY DO I HAVE A SIX-PACK?!"
He ran a hand over his abs, jaw dropping, and then caught sight of his hands—darker, broader.
"Wait… wait, wait… why am I Black?!"
The wind stirred the grass around him. David stood frozen, staring at his new reflection in a patch of clear water nearby, confusion and panic warring with awe on his face.
"What the f---? Oh my God… I'm… I'm what… why am I—uh—well Black now?" he stammered, staring at the darker skin of his hands.
"Um… God? If this is what you want, okay, then I… I shall not judge Your wish. But—where are You?"
His words were carried off by a warm breeze. The grass whispered around his ankles. No booming voice answered. He spun in a slow circle.
"Hello? God? Angels? Anybody?"
Nothing but birdsong.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Well… might as well explore," he muttered.
He started walking, testing his new legs. The grass felt springy, almost bouncy, but something was off. He tried to jog, then sprint. His legs moved like they were in syrup. After three steps he lurched forward and landed flat on his stomach.
"What the living f---! Why can't I run? I'm not fat!"
He scrambled up and tried again, only to stumble and face-plant once more.
"What is goooooing on?!"
As he pushed himself upright, something flickered above the grass in front of him: a glowing blue rectangle like a holographic tablet, humming softly. A tiny, chibi-looking blue figure stood on the edge of it, arms crossed, tapping one tiny foot like it had been waiting.
David blinked.
"Oookay… that's… uh… new. Never knew Heaven was this advanced."
The little figure raised a finger and pointed at a pulsating button on the hologram. Instinctively, David reached out and tapped it.
The hologram chimed and the tiny blue guy straightened up like a news anchor.
"Hello there, Mr. Hawk. I am Bepo. I'm here to guide you through the System," it said in a high, cheerful voice.
David squinted at it.
"Hawk? Who the hell is Hawk? My name's David!"
Bepo tilted its glowing head.
"Ah. Administrative error. Your soul file says David Hawk. But no matter! You're here, and you're enrolled."
David rubbed his temple.
"Enrolled? In what? This isn't heaven, is it?"
Bepo ignored the question and swiped a tiny blue arm across the screen. Numbers and icons popped up like a video game menu:
Name: Hawk mather
Race: ???
Level: 0 (Novice)
HP: 10
"Right now," Bepo chirped, "you're Level Zero, which is very low. Which means you'll need to kill monsters, complete side quests, and clear dungeons to level up."
David's eyes went wide.
"Level zero? Kill monsters? Side quests? Dungeons… huh??"
Bepo tilted his tiny glowing head.
"Would you like me to continue, Mr. Hawk?"
David ran a hand over his face.
"Sure, why not. Might as well hear it all."
The little blue figure clasped his hands behind his back and paced along the edge of the hologram like a professor.
"Excellent. Once you level up, you'll be able to choose a skill set and distribute stat points. Strength, agility, stamina, magic affinity—the usual parameters."
David nodded slowly, trying to absorb the info.
"Okay… so it's basically a video game. Ohhh, so heaven is a video game. That… actually explains a lot."
Bepo stopped and looked straight at him, voice flattening.
"Mr. David Hawk, this is no heaven. You haven't died yet."
David's stomach lurched.
"I'm… Not died? HOW? WHY?"
Bepo's holographic eyes flicked to the side, as if reading something invisible.
"Ah. It seems you have company."
David blinked.
"Company? What are you talking about—"
The hologram fizzled and vanished. The grass ahead rippled. Out of the shimmer rolled a blue blob the size of a beach ball, wobbling like jelly as it slid toward him.
"What the heck…" David muttered, squinting.
The blob jiggled, emitting a wet squelching noise, and rolled closer. David smirked despite himself.
"Well, I do need to beat on something. Like a punching bag, right?"
He took a step forward, squared his shoulders, and swung a kick at it.
Pain shot up his foot like he'd just punted a bowling ball.
His HP bar flashed above his head: 10 → 6
"AAAAHHHHH!" he howled, hopping on one foot. "WHAT THE F—?!"
He stumbled backward, clutching his toes.
"Okay! OKAY! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that!" he shouted at the blob, which was still oozing steadily toward him without a face, voice, or any sign of mercy.
David dropped to a knee, scrambling backwards through the grass. His palm landed on something rough. He looked down—a sturdy stick about the length of a baseball bat lay half-hidden in the clover.
He snatched it up, knuckles white around the grip, and a shaky grin spread across his face.
"Oh… I'm going to destroy you," he said through clenched teeth.
The blob quivered, its color deepening, and began to lunge