John Brown watched the crowds around him with awe as the noose was placed around his neck. The rope itched, but his bound hands didn’t give him the chance to scratch at it. To ease his mind, he focused on the crowds in front of him.

There were many voices, some of them cheering and some of them showed support for his cause. His mission to free the slaves was one he knew would never be accepted by all. The treatment on his trial had been rather cordial, considering the eventual sentence being treason. It was a crime he refuted, as the intention was never to commit such an act. He simply decided to take the process of liberation into his own hands and hopefully inspire those across the south to do the same. Although his means had been considered extreme by those other abolitionists, he believed it was an inevitability. Peaceful abolition has failed, and a movement that refuses progress is not a movement at all. 

He was certain now that the only way that these crimes against the almighty could only be purged through blood. He had deluded himself before that a simple insurrection and a rebellion of slaves would be enough to cleanse this land of its innumerable sins. The five men whose blood now rested upon his hands would not be enough. Even though he knew it was the correct path, it still pained his heart. 

All he could do now was hope that the other abolitionists, the one who recognized and applauded his efforts, would be willing to take up their arms when the time is right and do what the constitution and the lord deemed to be righteous. If these countless masses in chains were not free, then the promise this land was built on was a farce. 

It would come one day. He could only pray that his death would be the start, not the end, of this land’s cleansing.

As the executioner pulled the switch to drop out the floor, John Brown’s only thoughts were that of hope for a future that he would never get to see.

And then everything went white.

The first sensation to arrive in Brown’s mind was the lingering discomfort from his snapped neck. The noose had done a fine job, quickly killing him rather than letting him dangle and suffocate. Once he overcame that sensation, he could finally take some time to judge his surroundings… if there was anything.

It was a void of pure white, with not a single marker to judge distance. He existed in nothingness, and the only piece he could hold onto as a form of tangible reality was his own consciousness and what he thought might be his body. Looking down, or at least what he thought must be down, he found that his body had taken on an ephemeral quality. The general contours were all there, but lacking in detail. It was a suggestion of his prior body. He moved his hands to touch it, but found there was nothing physical about it whatsoever. His hands simply passed through it as though it was nothing but air. 

Being a religious man, John Brown had three assumptions- He was either in heaven, purgatory, or preparing to be judged by the almighty. His current existence lacked the fire and brimstone to fit with the definition of hell. If it weren’t for the fact that he was already dead, or the fact that his immaterial body had a distinct lack of any vocal cords, he would have likely said a small prayer. 

Time was hard to judge in the void, the only measure being his own thoughts. In what might have been only a few moments or an eternity, something was finally able to change. The void took shape, began to shift and have depth. Details formed, etchings onto the purest of white marble. Walls soon encased him, and eventually a floor took form beneath him. The nothingness was gone, and replaced by a very beautiful something. Brown attempted to take a step forward, but found that his position was fixed. He could turn his head, move his hips and even try to run, but he found that no distance was made.

After another indiscernible period of time, a voice called down to him.

“Oh, one sec. Let me get you something.”

The voice was unbound, surrounding him on all sides. There was no traceable voice, nor distinguishing features. What he had heard sounded like a commandment made by reality itself. It did not take much for him to understand that this was the voice of God.

Before he could think anymore, Brown found himself seated on a finely embroidered chair. In front of him was now a table, and across from that another chair. In it, sat the divine. 

“Sorry about that. Just had to get a few things set up before we could talk.”

The voice was now more focused, and he could tell it was coming from the chair. Shapes began to coalesce, and he could now see that God had taken on a humanoid form. It was a woman, or at least seemed to be judging from the now feminine qualities that he had discerned from the voice. Her soft face radiated beauty like that only found within paintings, her golden hair flowing down behind her shoulder blades. The eyes were pure white, with no pupil to be found on them. Her delicate arms held a small clipboard, and her legs were crossed on top of one another. The clothing she wore was a fine white silk dress, hanging off of her bare shoulders and ending just above her knees and her bare legs. If there was ever something that could be said to have divine beauty, this would certainly be apt for that term. 

“You can talk now, by the way. Takes a good bit of power to form those things while also not melting your brain.”

Brown’s jaw was left slack as he struggled to take in all of the information. However, as to be respectful, he spoke.

“You’re God, right?”

The divine woman merely shrugged while continuing to review the information on the clipboard. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that. Just making sure, but you’re John Brown, right?”

“Yes, my lord.” He quickly responded. After all, it would be rude to make the almighty wait.

“Yeah, let’s not do ‘the lord’ thing. Just call me God.” she said, smiling at him like he was a child who had just broken a window. “So, hanged for treason. First ever person in the USA to ever manage that.”

“I do not know if that is an accomplishment I am to be proud of. All I know is that the fight of abolition would die if it remained peaceful.”

God finally turned up from her clipboard and tossed it aside, causing it to disappear into the ether. “Well, I got some good news on that front. You’re one of the major inspirations behind the Civil War.”

“My actions led to the secession of the Union?” He blurted out. He knew the unity was frail, but he didn’t expect himself to be a major cause of it. 

“Nah, don’t worry. The North eventually won, and slavery was abolished.” She flippantly responded. 

My mission was completed? They actually went through with it?

“Congrats, I guess. You also got a ton of stuff named after you, and even a few movies with you in it.”

“What’s a movie?”

God, hearing Brown’s response, bit her lip. “Yeah, ignore that last part. Basically, you did pretty good. Not perfect, but pretty good.”

He felt a mix of pride and satisfaction well up within him at her words. Surely, this meant that he would be worthy of eternal paradise.

“Not so fast, bud. I called you here for a very specific reason. I’m not sending you to those pearly gates or whatever.” She quickly shot down Brown’s thoughts, making him realize that she was also inside of his mind. 

“I’m sorry, God. Does that mean I’m going to hell?”

God's beautiful face wrinkled in confusion. “What? I swear, what is with you Christians and all this shit about perdition? I brought you here because I have a higher purpose for you. You’re not going to hell.”

John Brown took a sigh of relief. He was glad that his actions were viewed as righteous in the name of the lord. The claims about higher purpose, however, were confusing to him.

“Ok, let me explain. I’ve got another world project currently on the side. Sorta like a second earth, I guess. Issue is, it’s got some problems that I can’t really deal with on my own. Demon Lords and other shit like that. So I’ve been sending people down there recently to go deal with those problems. In return, they get to keep their memories from their previous life and get some cool powers. Like sword skills, magic powers, enchanted weapons…” God’s words began to slowly trail off as she found herself looking into John Brown’s face and finding nothing but sheer confusion. “You didn’t get anything from the last few sentences I just said, did you?”

If he could have, Brown would have shrunk a bit in his chair.

“I am sorry, but much of this information appears to be beyond myself.” 

In truth, Brown was currently scouring any and all of the scripture he had memorized in his years as a devout Christian to hopefully find a section that covered any of the words God has just said.

“Ok, let me simplify it so someone like you can understand. There’s another Earth I have that is currently struggling, and I’ve been sending other people there to try and deal with it. If they choose to accept, I give them a blessing to use in their mission. Does that make more sense?”

John Brown nodded affirmatively, and God let out a sigh of relief.

“Am I to be one of those holy warriors, fighting those ‘Demon Lords’ and things of such?” He tepidly asked. After her previous response, he was extremely worried he might end up offending the almighty.

“No. I want you to kill all of the other people I sent down there.”

The room fell silent. John Brown didn’t know how to respond to such a request, nor could he even ordain where such a request might come from.

“Ok, long story short, I sent them down there to kill the Demon Lord and other shit. And you know what? They did that. Ended a couple wars, stopped a few eldritch horrors and did all the things I generally asked them to do. But after that, they started getting kind of weird. The powers I gave them went to their heads, and they all started doing stuff that I consider pretty shitty. And one of those things that they did was slavery.” God pointed a finger directly at him. “And I know that is something you very much hate.”

John Brown nodded again, attempting to clench his intangible fist. It angered him deeply that the crime of slavery persisted in other realms of man, and that it had also gone unpunished.

“That’s my job for you. Kill the other warriors I sent down there for me. Outside of that, you can basically do whatever you want as long as you don’t mess up things too badly. Sounds good?”

Brown gave a smile and nodded again. “Of course I will. I exist to carry out the lo- Your will.”

God, hearing that last bit, looked to cringe a little bit before quickly regaining her composure. A different object appeared in her hands this time. It was a dense book, with the cover just as white and gold as the goddess herself. She turned it and pushed it in his direction, causing it to slowly float through the air and out in front of him before opening itself up.

“Here’s a list of abilities I can give you. Consider them blessings, of sorts. What I give you now will be the tools you use to carry out this righteous mission.” The book in front of him began to slowly flip from page to page, and Brown soon realized that his thoughts allowed him to flip the pages alone. After a few minutes scanning, he turned to look up at God.

“I want my gun.”

“Huh?” she said, bewildered. Guns weren’t listed in the book. At least, she thought that was the case.

“It may be a selfish request, but I would prefer to work with the weapons I used in this life to help in this goal.” He absolutely loved his old .44 caliber Sharps Rifle. If this was an entirely new world, he wouldn’t mind having something to remind him of his home. 

“Sure…” God said, clearly a tad bit wary. “But that’s going to probably limit some of what I can do with you.”

To this, John Brown again expressed confusion. He believed that God was almighty, and that their power would be unlimited. To be entirely fair, he had also made the assumption that God would be a bit more masculine.

“Yeah, sorry about that. The limitation isn’t what I can do, but it’s more about what you can do. See, the soul has a certain quality to it. There’s a limited amount of data you can save on it.” She rattled off, sounding as though she was reading a script.

“What?” 

Hearing his words of confusion, God’s shoulders slumped.

“Let me phrase it so you, being from the 1850s, can understand. Your soul is a lot like a book, but with a limited amount of pages in it. Your soul is going to have a good amount of growing room, which means you’ll have a lot of pages. However, there’s a limited amount of stuff I can put in there before the book falls apart. Are you with me so far?” She said, starting to seem more irritated. Brown nodded again, becoming somewhat self aware of the amount of times he had done so in such a short period.

“Your guns are a lot of materials and details, so that’s going to take up a good few pages. That means that if you want to have your guns, I’d maybe have to do a few revisions and change other aspects to make room for that.”

He pondered for another moment, thinking about any aspects he would be willing to give up. 

“Would a new physical appearance give you more room in the book?”

God put her hand to her chin and thought about the idea until a wide grin came across her face. 

“Yes… that could work. I think I could work with that. Plus, it’s not like you’d be giving up much.”

That hurts.

John Brown knew he wasn’t a beautiful man, but hearing it directly from God definitely twisted the knife.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got something good in mind. Should make things more interesting…” her words trailed off into the literal ether that surrounded them. “Well, that’s all sorted. Let me take care of the rest, and you’ll be on your way. Oh and if you’re worried about the ability to find the other warriors, don’t. They haven’t done the best job hiding. And if the worst comes to worst, I’ll send you a message from above.” She gave a small wink with that final line. 

“Thank you God.” Brown said as his vision of the room began to fade. 

Before he finally slipped off and back into the white void, he heard her yell out one last thing to him.

“Oh and you might want to stop using the name John Brown from now on. Trust me.”

Time lost meaning again when he left the room with God in it. To pass the time, he’d had an internal debate over whether or not the woman he had met was the Holy Spirit. She fit most of the definitions, and he had made the relatively sane assumption that Jesus was not a woman. He also knew that Jesus wasn’t a blonde according to the scripture. 

Before he could finish the debate, he found himself in a corporeal form again. He was lying on the grass, his eyes turned up to the cloudless blue sky. The air felt extremely clear, and he could hear the sounds of swaying trees not too far off in the distance. 

There were two other sensations that came to his awareness. One of them was in his right hand, and it was a sensation he knew rather well. It was the metal barrel of his 44 Sharp. It appeared that God did in fact keep their promise, and had gifted him with his rifle. 

The other sensation was directly on his chest. Finally leaning his head upwards, he found a small paper note that had been tucked neatly between his breasts.

Spedbop

So this is a side series I'm writing as a joke. There is zero guarantee this series will continue, and if it gets bad reception it will disappear off the internet without warning. The updates of this series will be infrequent unless I think it needs actual focus.