Leonidas leaned back against the edge of a marble ledge, lazily unwrapping a piece of candy. The faint echo of distant voices filled the vast white expanse around them. He popped the candy into his mouth, crunching it absentmindedly before glancing sideways at the man beside him.
"Yo," he started, brows slightly furrowed, "once we get down to Earth… how are we even supposed to recognize each other?"
Rasputin didn't answer right away. He stood still, hands clasped behind his back, eyes drifting across the endless void as if watching something only he could see. Then, slowly, a faint smile crept onto his lips.
"Simple," he said at last, his voice calm and certain.
Leonidas raised an eyebrow. "Simple?"
Rasputin turned his head toward him, the faint amusement in his eyes sharpening. "I'll know you… by the way you fight."
Leonidas blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"
"You heard me," Rasputin continued, taking a few slow steps forward, his boots making no sound against the ground. "Just do what you've always done. Your instincts, your movements… they won't change. Not completely."
Leonidas tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully. "So you're saying… I just fight like myself, and boom, you'll recognize me?"
"Exactly."
A pause.
Leonidas let out a small scoff, shaking his head as a grin tugged at his lips. "Hmmm. Alright. If you say so."
Before Rasputin could respond, a sharp sound echoed across the void.
Clap! Clap!
Both of them turned.
Saint Peter stood at a distance, his presence commanding immediate attention. "All those assigned to descend to Earth," he announced, his voice resonating across the space, "you have three hours left. Use this time wisely."
A low murmur spread among the souls gathered around.
Rasputin exhaled softly, rolling his shoulders as if preparing himself. "I'm looking forward to what lies ahead," he said, a faint grin returning to his face.
Leonidas chuckled. "Well, you're the one who lived closer to modern times. I've got no clue what kind of world we're walking into."
Rasputin glanced at him, amused. "You'll adapt faster than you think."
Leonidas smirked. "We'll see about that."
Without another word, the two of them bumped fists, an unspoken agreement sealed in a simple gesture.
Then came silence.
Not awkward. Not heavy.
Just… stillness.
Moments later, Saint Peter approached them directly, holding a scroll in hand. "Are all the selected souls present?" he asked, scanning the names before reading them aloud one by one.
Voices answered in unison.
"Yes."
"Good," Saint Peter said, nodding once. He gestured toward a massive swirling portal that had formed nearby. "Step forward."
One by one, the souls began walking toward it.
Each of them carried a different fate. A different path. A different second life waiting below.
___________________________________________________________________
Gorey Armathis.
A name that echoed through the underworld. Famous. Feared. Untouchable.
But beneath that reputation lay something far darker.
In Los Angeles, his name dominated the mafia scene. People spoke of him in hushed tones. Some with respect. Others with dread.
Until one day...
"Sir! Sir!"
Panic broke through the air as his underlings rushed toward him.
Gorey staggered.
Then collapsed.
Even as darkness crept into his vision, he could still hear them. Voices overlapping, frantic, desperate.
"They're lifting him careful!"
"Get the car ready!"
"Move, move!"
****
Westwood, UCLA Medical Hospital.
Bright lights.
Cold air.
The sharp scent of antiseptic.
"Based on our findings," the doctor began, pulling down his mask slightly, "the patient has sepsis."
Gorey lay on the bed, eyes half-lidded but alert enough to listen. He turned his head slightly toward the doctor. "Explain."
The doctor nodded. "Sepsis is a severe infection that spreads throughout the body. It can cause damage to multiple organs."
He paused briefly before continuing. "If not treated immediately, it leads to a dangerous drop in blood pressure… and eventually septic shock."
Gorey stared at the ceiling, silent for a moment.
Then a faint, humorless chuckle escaped him. "So what… I've got an expiration date now?"
"We cannot determine the exact timeline," the doctor admitted. "But the infection has already reached vital organs. At this stage, the risk of organ failure and cardiac complications is very high."
Gorey shifted his gaze toward him. "Don't sugarcoat it."
The room fell quiet. For the first time in a long while, Gorey felt it.
Reality.
Not bullets. Not enemies. Not power. Just… consequences.
After a while, he made his decision. If he was going to fall, someone had to take his place. The operation couldn't stop.
****
Days later.
ICU.
Machines beeped steadily.
Then...
Irregularly.
"Doctor, his pulse is weakening! He's bradycardic!" a nurse called out.
"Start resuscitation protocol," the doctor ordered immediately. "Prepare CPR and epinephrine."
The tension in the room snapped tight. "Loss of pulse. Starting CPR!"
Hands pressed down hard against Gorey's chest.
Once. Twice. Again.
"Still no response to vasopressors!"
The monitor screamed.
"Heart rate dropping—40… 30…"
"Prepare for code blue!"
"Start CPR!"
The room erupted into controlled chaos.
"Flatline!"
"Continue CPR!"
Seconds stretched.
Then minutes.
"Still no pulse!"
"Keep going!"
Then a long, unbroken tone filled the room.
Beep… beep… beeeeeep…
"Time of death…" the doctor said quietly, eyes fixed on the monitor. "…11:42 AM."
Silence followed. Heavy.
But the doctor didn't move. "Continue CPR," he said firmly.
They obeyed. One last attempt. One more push against the inevitable.
Then... "Wait!"
All eyes snapped to the monitor. "There's electrical activity!"
"Check pulse!"
A tense second passed.
"I got it! There's a pulse! ROSC achieved!"
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
"Stabilize him!"
"Get oxygen levels up!"
Life snatched back from the edge.
___________________________________________________________
Somewhere beyond all of that…
There was the Void. Silent. Endless.
One by one, the souls waiting within it began to disappear.
Not gone. Transferred.
Each one pulled into a body prepared for them.
Lights flickered like distant stars, then vanished.
Until only a few remained. Until even those began to fade.
Leonidas felt it. A pull. Violent. Unnatural. Like being dragged into something that wasn't his.
****
Beep… beep… beep…
A sound. Slow. Rhythmic. Pain exploded in his chest.
He gasped, air forcing its way into lungs that didn't feel like his.
Voices echoed around him.
"Vitals are stabilizing…"
"BP is coming up…"
"We got ROSC!"
The rhythm quickened.
Stronger. Alive. Leonidas slowly opened his eyes.
Blurred light flooded his vision. Shapes moved. Voices sharpened.
"Doctor, he's regaining consciousness!"
He blinked.
Once. Twice. This body… wasn't his. But it moved. It breathed. It lived.
In that moment, he felt it. The connection. The binding. The truth.
Gorey.
A brief silence settled in his mind. Then a faint smile formed on his lips.
"So this is it."