The name’s Gordon, Gordon Wentworth. 47 years old and up until recently working as a morgue technician out in the middle of nowhere, also known as the state of Wyoming. I say up until recently due to the fact that dying kinda puts a wrench in the works of staying employed, ironic I know. 

How'd I die? Simple, when you make a living digging around the insides of the recently deceased; you tend to need a little something to take the edge off at the end of your shift. It’s just that sometimes you need a lot more than you thought you’d need to keep their faces out of your dreams.

But I digress, after all this void I’ve been floating through for the past few hours is actually pretty comfy feeling now that I think about it.

“ A strange mortal indeed, but then again normalcy rarely breeds exceptional results.” A booming voice suddenly rang out from the darkness.

  Was I a bit unnerved by the sudden breaking of the silence, admittedly so. But at least now I had someone to talk to. 

“Uh.. where exactly are you speaking from? I mean I don’t mind, but it’s easier to converse when you can actually see the person you're talking to.” I mentioned some-what confoundedly.

The voice seemed to chortle nervously at my response. “You’ll have to forgive my lack of manners mortal, being sealed away for so long tends to erode away one’s sense of common courtesy.” As it said this the void around me seemed to warp and tear. And before I knew it I was sitting on a sofa a few feet across from a gangly old man in a rocking chair.

“I presume this kind of arrangement is better suited for conversation; is it not?” The old man inquired as he took a sip from the mug now manifested in his hand.

“It works,” I answered nonchalantly. “ So now that we’ve got that sorted, you mind telling me what this place is? And more importantly who you are?”

The old man slowly rose from his chair and pointed at the abyssal sky still looming overhead. “This place is my cell, personally created by the primordial deity of balance. As for your second question; I used to be known as Cinmos, god of revolution and progress. But you can just call me Simon."

This was quite the revelation, to say the least, yet it only served to spark my curiosity even more. “If this place is supposed to be a prison meant to keep you and you alone in it, then how’d I end up here?” I asked dryly.

“That could take a while to explain,” Simon enunciated as he sat back down. "Plus the why of you being here is much more pertinent than the how. For you see, Gordon; I’ve brought you here with a very specific purpose in mind.” 

“And that purpose is..” I uttered with a raised eyebrow.

“Revenge, plain and simple.” he explained. “ I’ve been forced to watch helplessly as the multiverse around me wallows in its own mediocrity, and it’s not like those Primordials’ chosen are making things any better. So what better way is there to spread retribution upon the complacent, than to kill the fool whose entire existence is devoted to maintaining it.”

I’ve heard people in the past say that making a deal with a god is just like shaking hands with the devil. Except the devil at least has the courtesy to let you eat the carrot before he beats you with the stick. But I’m already dead, so.. there isn’t really much left to lose now is there.

“Killing a primordial deity huh; sounds like fun,” I said half sarcastically. ”But surely you ain’t expecting me to just be able to walk up and sock the guy, right?” 

“Of course not mortal, If I had intended to send you in unequipped then this conversation wouldn’t be transpiring.” Following his retort, the old man reached into his long coat and withdrew two thumb-sized crystals.

“The prismatic one on the right is a system shard, absorbing it will grant you a baseline variant of the interface utilized by all primordials’ chosen. The mosaic one opposite it will allow you a one-way trip to Gaia, any questions before you go on your way?”

“Nah, not really; just make sure you've got some scotch we can crack open when I get back.” I joked while grabbing the crystals from his wrinkly hand. Once both shards were within my grasp, I began to feel strange energy coalesce around my chest.

“Will do mortal; however, let's hope you don't end up back here before the job is done." Simon spoke in a half-serious tone, "transportation shards are a pain to manifest after all.” 

 And with those words, my vision began to rapidly fade for the second time tonight.

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Written by:
Tech-Priest-Ottis

Edited by: The chapter ain't been edited yet, I'll get around to it at some point.

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Hello Terrans!

We got quite a light intro chapter this time around.(Writing fluff isn't really my forte if you will.)

Also, don't expect the release schedule on this one to be any more frequent than my other projects. (My motivation to write is spontaneous at best; that's just how it is sometimes.)