A/N:
This is a trial chapter. If this FanFic works, I would continue with it, I guess.
It is available for advance in my patreon. Just go to Google or any other search engine. Search Patreon MrFlashXO.
The membership is cheap. It is just 3$
Many can afford that. U get advanced chapters, and other novels too.
Anyways happy reading. And drop comments.
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The Day I Died, Met a Weird God, and Woke Up Crying
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The last thing I remember before dying was a mozzarella stick. And not in a nostalgic, "wow, what a nice snack" kind of way—more like a death-by-dairy-stick situation.
I was twenty-six. Alone in my apartment. Watching Iron Man for the fiftieth time and dramatically declaring to my TV, "Tony Stark's cave suit could've been 35% more efficient with a flux coil stabilizer and titanium mesh, you coward!" Then I took a huge bite of mozzarella, laughed mid-chew, and—yeah. Game over. Suffocation by string cheese.
I always thought I'd go out in some cool way. Saving a kid from a fire. Stopping a runaway train. Something heroic, you know? Not... dying while mansplaining fictional engineering to a Marvel movie.
But hey—life's funny like that.
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I woke up in a cosmic DMV.
That's the best way I can describe it. Fluorescent lighting. Shimmering holographic walls. A ticket machine that went bing every few seconds. And sitting behind a desk carved from what looked like compressed stardust was a being in a Hawaiian shirt and bunny slippers.
"Yo," he said, casually tossing a paper airplane made of light. "Damon Rivers. Welcome to Post-Life Services. You died. Womp womp."
I blinked. "You're... God?"
"Technically, I'm A god. The Department of Cosmic Reincarnation. Division 42-B. You can call me Gary."
"Gary?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, my celestial name is unpronounceable by mortals and sounds like an EDM bass drop. So, Gary."
I stared. He sipped from a mug that said Not Today, Mortals.
"So," I said slowly, "this isn't heaven or hell?"
"Nah, you're in the queue for reincarnation. Don't worry, you're lucky—you racked up some solid karma. Remember when you offered your kidney to your cousin?"
"He traded it for Bitcoin."
"Still counts."
He tossed me a clipboard. "You get a choice. New life, new world, one wish."
"One wish?"
"Yep. You know the drill. Isekai rules. You want to be born in a world with swords and dragons? Giant robots? Everyone's hot and emotionally damaged?"
I rubbed my temples. "I want to be reborn with the intelligence of Tony Stark. His engineering skill, his creative genius, and..."
He raised a brow.
"I want a system. Like J.A.R.V.I.S. But in my head. A sentient one that can help me invent things."
Gary nodded, impressed. "That's a solid setup. You want to be Iron Kid. Respect."
"And... I want to go somewhere I'll need that brain. Where genius actually matters. Put me somewhere real."
He smirked, then snapped his fingers. A floating screen popped up, showing a scene I knew all too well:
A boy in a bow tie sitting in a Texas classroom, correcting his teacher's use of "who" vs. "whom."
"Young Sheldon," I said.
"Bingo. You'll be the same age as Sheldon in the first episode. I'll slot you into an open timeline branch. There's an orphan background we can patch in—you'll wake up freshly reincarnated in this world. Your memories will kick in slowly. Dramatic. Fun."
"And the system?"
Gary held up a thumb. "Upgraded. Fully voice-integrated, pop culture-literate, and likes jazz."
I grinned.
"Let's do it."
Gary leaned over his desk, his smile softening for the first time.
"Good luck, Damon. Don't waste your second shot."
The world fractured into white—
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I gasped.
Not the kind of gasping you do when waking up from a dream. This was deep. Sharp. Real. My lungs burned, my heart pounded, and my skin prickled like I'd been outside too long.
I was sitting on asphalt.
The heat from the Texas sun pressed into my back. My legs were sore. I looked down—small, pale legs. I was wearing a scuffed-up T-shirt and shorts that had probably seen better days.
And across the road from me…
A car.
Crushed.
Steam hissed from the engine. One of the wheels was still spinning, slowly, pointlessly. The windshield was caved in, glass spider-webbed and glittering like salt.
And for some reason, I felt my cheeks wet.
I reached up.
Tears. Silent. Streaming. I wasn't even sobbing. It was just... pouring out of me.
But I didn't know why.
There was no memory. No emotional trigger I could access. No one had told me to cry.
It was just—like something inside me had snapped. Or maybe... someone.
> "System initializing," came a calm voice in my head. "Welcome, Damon. Please remain still while your consciousness stabilizes."
I froze.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.?" I whispered.
> "Close. I'm your personal AI. Name: to be determined. IQ status: currently calibrating. Emotional readings: high distress. Memory integration: 42%."
I stared at the wrecked car.
Something about it... the color? The model? I couldn't place it. But it hurt. Even though I wasn't supposed to remember anything from this life... my body remembered. The way grief clings to bones, not just thoughts.
"Whose car is that?" I asked quietly.
> "Unknown. No active data link. Your current location: East Texas. Population: 500. Weather: sunny. Mental state: confused, emotionally compromised."
I chuckled, bitterly. "At least you're honest."
> "Would you like assistance with stabilizing your emotional state?"
I shook my head. "No. Let me feel it. I need to."
The system paused.
> "Affirmative. I will play smooth jazz to assist you anyway."
A soft saxophone solo began in the back of my mind.
I sat there, on the side of the road. A 9-year-old boy with a 26-year-old soul. Watching smoke rise from a car I couldn't remember... but mourned anyway.
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End of Chapter