The fire painted Ethan's hands red.
Not with warmth.
With Hank's blood.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
One moment, they were filming desert sunsets and laughing about girls.
The next, the world was a burning nightmare.
The ground trembled beneath his boots.
Smoke rose from the wreck of the Stryker jeep like a dying beast.
Everything stank of dust, gunpowder, melted metal.
He stared at his trembling fingers, sticky with blood under the faint glow of firelight.
His mind refused to accept what his eyes already knew.
How did this happen?
How did a stupid documentary trip turn into this?
"What's the big mission now, huh?" he whispered hoarsely.
He turned over the blood-smeared ID card Hank had shoved into his hand before dying.
On the back, in messy handwriting:
Password: Coxinormus69. Delete my browser history and destroy the SSD.
Ethan blinked.
Then, despite the shaking, he laughed. A broken, ugly laugh that sounded more like a cough.
"Even in death, you're trolling me," he muttered. "You unbelievable idiot."
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of crimson across his cheek. The smell of charred oil clung to him.
"Dragged me halfway across the desert saying, 'Camera men never die!' and 'What's life without excitement?'" he said bitterly.
"Well, congrats, Hank. You found excitement."
The corpse beside him didn't reply.
Of course it didn't.
He closed Hank's eyes gently. "Guess even chatterboxes have to shut up sometime."
A distant explosion rocked the ground again. Orange light flared on the horizon, followed by screams and static gunfire.
Ethan ducked behind the jeep, breathing hard.
"You're still alive," he whispered to himself. "Keep moving."
He looked down at Hank's body. "And you're not staying here."
Grimacing, he lifted Hank's limp weight onto his shoulders. The man was heavier than he remembered. His boots slid against the rubble as he started running.
The city blurred.
Shattered windows, burning cars, collapsed buildings. The air shimmered with heat and dust.
Every step was pain. Every breath, a knife.
"F**k," he hissed. "Running with one-eighty pounds… not my best idea."
But he didn't stop.
Somewhere in the chaos, he saw a glint of metal. A door. A bunker.
A way out.
"Almost there," he gasped. "Come on, legs. Don't fail me now."
He stumbled up the concrete path, coughing through the smoke.
The silver door loomed closer. Behind its glass, he could see shadows. There, movement. People.
He smiled weakly. "Thank God. Didn't forget the way."
For a heartbeat, hope flickered.
Then something small caught his ears.
A faint sound.
A whimper.
He turned toward it.
There, under a fallen billboard, a small shape shivered.
A puppy.
German Shepherd. Paw pinned under a slab of twisted metal.
"Oh, come on…" Ethan groaned. "You too, huh?"
He laid Hank down gently and crouched beside the puppy. "Hey, hey, easy, buddy."
The animal's eyes were wide with fear. Ethan gritted his teeth, lifted the debris bit by bit until the pup wriggled free.
It barked once, a tiny, shaky sound. Then bolted into the smoke.
Ethan laughed softly. "Not even a thank you. Probably has a girlfriend."
That's when he heard it.
A faint, sharp whistle.
Not the wind.
His blood froze.
"Oh, sh*t."
He didn't even have time to finish the thought.
Light swallowed everything.
Sound vanished.
Heat bloomed.
Then… nothing.
No pain.
No body.
No sound.
Just darkness.
Ethan floated in an endless black.
He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed.
No ground beneath him.
No breath in his lungs.
Only silence, soft and deep.
So this is death, he thought. Not as dramatic as I expected.
Time lost meaning. Seconds, minutes, hours. All blurred.
Then, far away, something glimmered.
A faint light. Small at first. Like a spark struggling to stay alive.
Ethan drifted toward it. He didn't swim or walk; the light simply grew closer.
Each heartbeat pulled him forward.
Maybe it was hope.
Maybe insanity.
Maybe he was chasing the last neuron firing in a dying brain.
Didn't matter. It was something.
The light widened, turning into a keyhole shape, glowing with soft gold and blue.
"Holy sh*t," he whispered. "Did Heaven get sponsored by Pixar?"
And then the pull came.
Strong. Relentless.
The light swallowed him whole.
The world slammed back into focus.
He gasped.
He was standing in a massive cathedral.
Stone walls. Endless arches. Windows so tall they touched the clouds.
Sunlight poured in through the stained glass, too bright to look at directly.
Ethan blinked.
Then froze.
Hands.
He had hands.
"Wait… hands?!" He turned them over, flexing. His skin was smooth. No scars. No blood.
Even his clothes were spotless.
"Okay," he muttered. "Either I'm in Heaven, or some fancy dry-cleaning dimension."
He looked around.
The air smelled faintly of buttered popcorn and sea salt.
Music or something like it, hummed in the distance.
And then he saw it.
At the far end of the hall stood a throne made of light and crystal.
A figure sat upon it, glowing like a divine being.
Ethan squinted. "Oh crap. It's God. I'm so screwed."
The glow dimmed.
And there he was.
Hank.
Wearing beach shorts.
And eating popcorn.
"Yo!" Hank said with a grin. "You made it!"
Ethan blinked slowly. "You. Are. Kidding me."
Hank waved. "Welcome to the Great Beyond, my friend!"
Ethan's brain refused to process it. "You're dead."
"Yup."
"So am I."
"Double yup."
"And this is…?"
"The Great Beyond. Fancy name, right? Still workshopping it."
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course. My afterlife is managed by a clown."
"Hey," Hank said, mock offended. "I'll have you know I'm a god now. The God of Infinite Dumbassery, at your service."
"Right," Ethan said flatly. "So, the universe decided that you should have divine power."
"Technically, I decided that. But semantics."
Ethan groaned. "What do you even want from me?"
"Well," Hank said, standing up and brushing popcorn off his lap, "I might've messed up your death. Small issue."
"Small issue?"
"Yeah, see, you weren't supposed to die yet. I kinda triggered the explosion early. My bad."
Ethan just stared. "You killed me by accident?"
"Hey, accidents happen!" Hank said quickly. "But look on the bright side, free upgrade!"
Ethan rubbed his temple. "I swear, if Heaven has HR, I'm filing a complaint."
Hank brightened suddenly. "Oh! Speaking of upgrades."
He ran to the side of the throne and yanked open a heavy, rune-covered chest. The lid creaked, releasing a faint mist that shimmered like starlight.
Inside lay a single metal gear, small but humming with strange life.
Ethan tilted his head. "You brought your toolbox to the afterlife?"
Hank grinned. "This, my friend, is the Core of Insight. Your golden ticket. It won't make you smarter instantly, but it'll help you learn faster. You'll adapt, innovate, survive."
Ethan frowned. "So… magic steroids for the brain?"
"Exactly! You'll understand things quicker and maybe not blow yourself up next time."
"That feels oddly personal."
"Trust me," Hank said. "You'll need it."
Before Ethan could protest, Hank flicked the gear into the air. It hovered for a second, spun, then shot straight into Ethan's chest.
"OH COME ON!"
He stumbled back, choking as warmth spread through his ribs. For a moment, he felt something turning inside him, like unseen gears spinning in perfect sync. Then the feeling faded.
He looked down. No wound. Only a faint glow under his skin.
Hank clapped. "See? Works like a charm. Clean, magical, totally safe. Probably."
"I hate you," Ethan gasped.
"Love you too! Now, hold still. Time for the summoning."
"Wait. The what now?"
But Hank was already chanting.
The symbols carved into the marble floor lit up. Runes flared one by one, bathing the hall in a soft blue glow. The air thickened. Ethan's hair rose from static.
"Hank! This doesn't feel right!"
"Relax! I triple-checked this time!"
"Triple-checked with what, your cereal box?"
Before Hank could answer, the doors of the cathedral burst open.
A booming voice filled the hall.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU BLITHERING FOOL?"
An old man stormed in, beard glowing like lightning, robes fluttering with divine energy. His eyes burned gold as he snatched the wand from Hank's hand.
"I told you the circle was unstable!"
The floor cracked beneath Ethan. The light surged, so bright it hurt to see.
"Uh, Hank?" Ethan yelled. "You sure this is normal?"
"Totally! Probably!"
The old man groaned. "He's being reverse-summoned! You've doomed him to another world!"
"Wait, reverse what?!" Ethan shouted. "Can we not?! I just got here!"
"Pray the Core guides you, boy!" the old man called out.
"Not helpful!"
And then, light consumed him again.
Silence returned to the hall.
Hank stared at the empty floor where Ethan had stood.
Then sighed. "Well… at least I gave him something useful this time."
The old man pinched the bridge of his nose. "You gave him the Core of Insight?! That artifact rewrites itself based on curiosity! It'll drag him into every mystery it touches!"
Hank blinked. "So… side quests?"
The old man groaned. "You are why pantheons collapse."
Hank shrugged, reaching for his popcorn again. "Guess I'll see him next season."