Mike was miserable.
He had no money, his girlfriend had dumped him, he studied a degree he hated, and all he managed to get out of it was a shitty-paying job as an electrician.
And all that for what?
To get electrocuted while working in the most absurd way possible.
What fucking irony, he thought somewhere in a distant corner of his consciousness, right before everything went black.
But let's rewind a bit.
It had started like a completely normal day—well, as normal as a day in Mike's shitty life could be.
He woke up late, as always. Had cold coffee and stale bread for breakfast because he didn't feel like cooking anything decent.
He put on the same grease-stained overalls he'd been wearing for three weeks without washing and dragged his feet toward the company van.
His coworker, Julio, was already waiting with that idiotic grin he always had plastered on his face.
"You're late again, Mike!" he shouted from the window.
"Shut up," was all he got in response.
The job for the day was simple: fix a streetlight pole in a residential area. Nothing special. Climb up, check the wiring, fix whatever was fucked up, climb down, get paid, go home.
Simple.
Except nothing in Mike's life was simple.
The ladder they'd been given was defective. Everyone in the company knew it. One leg was loose and it wobbled like a drunk with every step you took.
But the company didn't give a shit about employee safety, so there they were, using that death trap because "it still works."
Mike climbed carefully, muttering curses under his breath at every unstable rung.
"Hey, Mike, check out that girl," Julio said from below, holding the ladder against the light pole.
Mike didn't even turn around.
"Idiot, don't get distracted. You know this ladder's defective."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," Julio replied in that carefree tone Mike hated so much.
Then there was a brief silence.
"Wait a second, buddy… I'm gonna go ask for her number."
What?
"Idiot, wai—"
Mike didn't get to finish before the ladder wobbled and then fell.
Everything happened in slow motion and in the blink of an eye at the same time.
His balance broke. His body tilted backward. And his survival instinct—that damn reflex all humans have—betrayed him.
Instead of letting himself fall, he reached out to grab onto something.
Anything.
And what he grabbed was a high-voltage cable.
POOF.
ZAP.
Sparks exploded everywhere and the sound of electricity rang out with a metallic, furious crackle.
The smell of burnt flesh filled the air and… that was it.
Julio turned around, the phone number scribbled on a crumpled napkin in his hand, and all he found was the ladder lying on the ground and a column of black smoke rising from where his coworker should have been.
"Mike?"
Silence.
"Mike?!"
No response.
Just ashes and the fading echo of sparks in the air.
…
…
…
Then… nothing.
Just darkness and perpetual silence.
So… this is what being dead feels like?
Mike was floating—or at least he thought he was—in an absolute void. There was no up or down. No light or shadow.
Just… nothing.
Being honest… this isn't as bad as I thought.
It was strange. He had expected fear, or regret, or at least some existential dread. But no. There was only a deep calm, almost comforting.
I always searched for peace and quiet in my life.
Who would've thought the only way I'd get it was by dying…
Hahahaha.
What bullshit.
Even though he was a little frustrated—because, well, getting electrocuted because of a horny idiot trying to flirt wasn't exactly the most dignified way to go—in the end Mike was pretty calm about being dead.
No more shitty jobs.
No more bosses yelling at him.
No more waking up every morning with that hollow feeling in his chest.
Just… peace.
I guess this isn't so bad.
But just as he was starting to get used to the idea of floating in nothingness for all eternity, his reflective moment was interrupted.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here."
A voice… clear and neutral.
It came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, as if the void itself was speaking.
What the fuck…?
"Mike, right?" the voice continued, in an almost… amused tone.
"Who the fuck are you?" Mike asked—or at least tried to. He wasn't sure if he even had a mouth here.
"You can call me… well, it doesn't matter what you call me. What matters is that I have plans for you."
Oh no.
"No, no, no. Stop right there," Mike said, feeling the calm he had found begin to crumble. "I didn't ask for anything. I'm perfectly fine here, floating in eternal nothingness. I don't need your 'plans.'"
"Oh, but I think you do."
"No, I definitely don't."
"You see, Mike," the voice continued, completely ignoring him, "you had a rather… boring life. No purpose. No passion. No nothing, really."
"Hey, you don't have to rub it in."
"So I've decided to give you a second chance."
What?
"A second chance to live. To experience something… different."
"Wait, wait, wait," Mike interrupted, feeling panic crawl up his nonexistent spine. "I don't want a second chance. I'm fine here. Seriously. Death is great. Ten out of ten. Totally recommended."
"Oh, you're funny."
"I'm not joking. Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I'll pass. Thanks, but no thanks."
"I'm not asking for your opinion, Mike."
Shit.
"Hey! You can't just ignore me! I have rights!"
"Rights?" The voice now sounded genuinely amused.
"Yes! The right to stay dead in peace! It's the only thing I ever fucking asked for in my whole life!"
"Mmm… no."
"What the fuck do you mean, 'no'?!"
"It means I'm not going to listen to you. I've already made my decision."
"This is bullshit! You're a bullshit god! A celestial tyrant!"
"How dramatic."
"WAIT! AT LEAST TELL ME WHERE YOU'RE SENDING ME!"
There was a pause.
Then, in an almost… mischievous tone, the voice replied:
"To a place where you'll be… important."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You'll see. Now, enjoy your new life, Mike."
"HEY! I'M NOT DONE TALKING! THIS IS UNFAIR! I'LL FILE A COMPLAINT WITH HUMAN RESOURCES!"
But there was no answer.
Instead, he felt something—an invisible, overwhelming force—pulling him downward.
Or upward.
Or sideways.
He had no idea.
He just knew he was being dragged somewhere, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"DAMN YOU, YOU BULLSHIT GOD!"
And then everything turned white.
…
…
…
When Mike opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the cold.
A piercing cold that seeped through his… clothes?
He blinked several times, trying to focus.
Where am i…?
He was sitting.
On something hard.
Something… big.
He slowly moved his head, feeling every muscle in his body respond with a strange heaviness.
And then he saw it.
He was sitting on a throne.
A massive throne, made of black stone and decorated with engravings that seemed to glow with a faint reddish light.
Around him, the place was… dark and imposing.
The walls were tall, made of the same black material, and torches with violet flames illuminated the space with an eerie glow.
In front of him, several meters away, there was an enormous door. So large it looked designed for giants.
What the fuck…?
Mike lowered his gaze to his hands.
And froze.
They weren't his hands.
They were larger—and he was wearing metal gauntlets on them.
"Huh?"