[Smite Happens] 3 - A Very Uncool Death

The giant, calling himself Wonderwerk, gave me a confused look. His mouth gaped as the flames that were his beard receded a bit. It was apparent that he didn’t expect this reaction from me. Why the hell would anyone think they were dead if they found themselves in a white space?

Hang on. What was that about me being dead? No way!

“You must be talking about my dream,” I said. This alien simulation giant confused me with someone else. Or this was a dream within a dream. It was the likelier explanation. Didn’t feel like it, though. But this shouldn’t be real! “The girl in the wagon—Emery Pyrebraid or something? She’s dead. Definitely. But she wasn’t me.”

“You’re right, little one,” Wonderwerk slowly replied. “Your soul merely inhabited my poor saint’s body in the moments leading up to her death.”

“Saint?”

“Yes. My chosen saint had died. But you are, most regrettably, also dead.”

“The fuck? I can’t remember…”

Wonderwerk stroked his beard, his fingers swimming in the rolling flame. “The trip across worlds might’ve affected your memories. Let me show you what transpired.”

“What are you talking about? Across worlds—eh? I’m back in the store?” I was staring at Bite & Lite’s soft serve ice cream machine.

This was ours because it had that handle with cutesy panda stickers. Harriet stuck them there for some reason. The cover panel also had scratches from when I accidentally banged it against the counter during the first time I took it apart. I was learning how to break it when I didn’t want people to get their ice cream.

The nozzle was dripping some soft serve. The lever thing must’ve gotten loose again. I supposed this could count as broken, meaning I didn’t lie to that little girl. And the part supposed to catch it was attached the wrong way, allowing the ice cream to plop to the floor.

“Hmmm. I have to scold Harriet for this.” I reached out for the handle to tighten it.

My hand passed through as if I were a ghost.

“What? Oh… I’m dreaming…” Yes, this was all a dream. Even that giant. And that nonsense about me being dead. There were no other worlds and magic, and stuff like that.

“Look over there,” rumbled a voice over my shoulder. It was a floating ball of golden flames.

“Wonderwerk?”

“It is I. And that is you, to the left. Alive, but soon will die.”

I turned left, looking through the open door past the cash register.

There was my awesome self in the back kitchen frying the next batch of chicken because we were about to run out. The display case was only a quarter full.

Standing around five feet and nine inches, I was taller than other girls, but on the lower end for models. I knew that because I’ve been approached by a few modelling agencies before. I rejected them. Being told how to pose wasn’t my thing.

Still, it was proof that I wasn’t bad-looking. Maybe a bit of an understatement.

I didn’t put on much makeup because I was going for a girl-next-door vibe. Less intimidating that way. Make myself appear approachable to the average guy since it seemed I didn’t care much about my appearance. I even had my long red hair tied up in a ponytail for a more sporty, outgoing look. Together with the rolled-up sleeves of my uniform, I presented an extroverted and friendly aura.

My goal was to get asked out on a date. I kept a tally of it—four guys and one gal so far for October. One more week to go. A bit on the slide slower this month.

Of course, I turned them all down. My aim was only the feeling of crushing the hopes of others. We all had weird hobbies, and mine was quite harmless. I never stringed people along because that was too much effort. They would’ve asked me out in a different setting anyway. Wasn’t my fault that I was pretty.  

I might just fall in love with myself. Oh, I already am. Unapologetically narcissistic here.

But enough celebrating my appearance.  There was a problem nagging at me.

“I’ve never seen myself in a dream before…” I slowly said. Dreams were usually in the first-person perspective. I had read that it could be in the third person, but had never experienced it.

The clinking bell. Someone entered the store.

I left the counter to see who it was. Must be Harriet, because I didn’t see her around. On the way to the door, I glanced at the clock. Three minutes past ten. The rush hour had ended, explaining why there were no customers.

“Harriet went out to withdraw money,” I said, snapping my fingers. I had loaned her some cash last week to cover her rent. Her roommate moved out without notice or something. The feeling of people owing me was another one of my favorites. “Am I just dreaming about what happened earlier? I remember seeing this guy.”

The man wearing a hoodie that obscured half of his face walked past me. His posture exuded seediness. A possible shoplifter? I probably caught him at this time, which was why I remembered his face.  

Weird that I had forgotten stuff that had happened just today. I glanced at the flaming ball form of Wonderwerk. He mentioned the trip across worlds affecting my memories.

That was just part of the dream… wasn’t it?

Instead of browsing the shelves for stuff to steal, the dude with the hoodie headed to the counter. He pulled out an object from the front pocket of his hoodie—a knife with a four-inch blade.

“A robber!” I exclaimed. “How did he get that knife past security?” I paused. I had a talking flaming ball next to me. Why was I poking holes in a dream’s story? This should prove this was a—oh, shit.

The metal detectors were being repaired this morning. They couldn’t send the commuters elsewhere because it’d cause too much foot traffic, so they kept the entrance open. This guy slipped past that and waited for the store to clear out before coming in.

“This really happened, didn’t it?” I asked.

“Indeed,” Wonderwerk replied, his deep voice becoming gentler. “Your memories must be returning to you, yet your mind cannot accept it. I imagine you hoping this is all a dream. It is not.”

“But I… didn’t die to this guy.” I was sure of that, though the exact events eluded me.

The robber tapped the small bell on the counter. “Uh… Anyone here?” He leaned forward and saw my other self coming out of the back kitchen. He hid his knife under the counter. “Miss… Do you… Do you have…?” He tapped the empty part of the display case.

“This bastard wants me to come closer,” I said, starting to believe this wasn’t a dream. Back to my alien simulation theory? Seemed more plausible than a god taking my soul to another fricking dimension.

Or I could be going insane. That wouldn’t surprise me.

My other self raised her brow as she thrust her hand into her pocket. I was suspicious of this guy, I recalled. Who wouldn’t be? I was reaching for the pepper spray I had been hoping to use for a long time. This guy gave off vibes. He had bloodshot eyes with dark circles and suspicious-looking sores on his cheeks. Looking for money to buy crack?

A sensible person would stay away.

But I wasn’t sensible. And I didn’t want to miss the chance to cause actual physical pain to somebody in the real world.

That said, I wasn’t devoid of survival instincts either. I had contingency plans for dealing with robbers prepared during the off-hours of the store; it was quite boring when there were no customers to mess with. Time to put those plans in motion. This guy wouldn’t shoot me before I opened the cash register since his goal was the money. That’d give me time and an opening to fight back.

When I was a couple of feet away from him, separated only by the counter, he whipped out his knife. “Now, listen here, bitch. Give me all the money.”

“What were you thinking at this moment?” Wonderwerk asked.

“That this is too easy,” I replied. “I was cheering in my head that he only had a knife.”

My other self quickly switched to fearful mode, fake trembling, and squeezing out tears in my eyes. “Do-don’t hurt me. Ple-please… I have a kid!”

I snorted despite the bizarreness of the situation. Special move, blurting out random shit to cause confusion.

“I’m a single mother!” my other self went on with my concocted story. This was to put him off-guard. “I’m all that little Jimmy has in this world. My husband left with a hooker and—”

“No need for that yappin’, dammit!” The robber waved his knife at me while glancing behind him. “Do as I say, and no one gets hurt. Give me the fucking money! Fast!”

“I-I’ll open it.” My other self pretended to fumble with the cash register while hiding the small pepper spray bottle in my palm. I was trying to insert the key of one of the storage cabinets to unlock it. Of course, it didn’t work. The robber guy wouldn’t know unless he had a closer look. “It’s stuck! This always happens. Ple-please don’t hurt me!”

“Get out of the way!” He shoved aside the boxes of protein bars and jumped over the counter.

“What I’ll do next is awesome,” I told Wonderwerk. I’d figure out what was going on later. I couldn’t miss the next events.

My other self tossed the robber the wrong keys.

Not expecting it, he failed to catch them. He bent down to get the keys from the floor. As he stood up, the other me greeted him with the pepper spray. He screamed as he stumbled back on his butt, covering his eyes with his arms. With all my might, I shoved the display case down on him. The chickens spilled all over. It added to his confusing blindness.

“You fucking bitch!” The robber shoved the glass cabinet aside and tried to get up. Since his eyes were still closed, he didn’t see the credit card reader coming down to smash his head.

“Oh, that’s a very satisfying sound,” I said, walking forward into the counter to get a better view.

My other self delivered three more strikes in quick succession. She had a big smile as flecks of blood painted her face.

The robber crumpled to the floor. Blood ran down his forehead, mixing with the tears from his eyes. My gym subscription was worth it.

I relived the excitement of this moment. Tingles went up my sides as my heart beat faster. This was the first time I had hurt somebody this badly in real life, and I was watching it happen again.

Real life? This wasn’t real life… right?  

“Yowh, bishhh…” The robber feebly swiped his knife at the air, mumbling gibberish. No shouting. No cussing. It was at this point that I realized I got him good.

“You should’ve targeted Krazy Wings over there.” My other self picked one of the plastic trays stacked on the table behind the counter. “They have more money than we do.” She used the tray to safely whack the knife out of his hands.

The robber wriggled on the floor away from my other self as he groaned in pain. Music to my ears.

My other self picked up the robber’s knife. She paused for a moment and looked up at the left corner.

The CCTV camera, I thought, following her gaze. Its fish-eye lens captured the rest of this space. But it couldn’t see what was happening to the robber if I positioned myself right to block the view.

My other self grabbed the knife and knelt beside the robber, who had mostly stopped moving. Just occasional twitches. His blood formed a puddle beneath his head. My other self leaned over him, covering his body from the camera. She then picked up his left hand and shook it.

“You were pretending that he was fighting back,” Wonderwerk said. His tone was even. He didn’t sound like he was judging me, but anyone would.

“Yes,” I simply said. If Wonderwerk had asked for an explanation, I wouldn’t have given any. There wasn’t much to explain.

My other self held the knife in her right hand. A huge grin spread across her face. I smiled with her, knowing what’d happen next. She stabbed the robber’s neck while shaking him.

Again. And again. And again, as if she were in a trance, enthralled by the spurting blood.

I had targeted the neck because it was soft and exposed. I wanted to see the knife penetrating skin and drawing blood. Couldn’t have done that if I struck his body. This was better than any dream I had.  

I crouched beside my other self having the time of her life. “Yeah, I kind of lost control of myself here,” I said. “It would be really hard to justify this as self-defense. But how was I going to die? I can’t… I can’t remember.”

“It’ll happen soon,” said Wonderwerk.

My other self stood up, looking at all the blood. I recalled that I was making up a story to explain the dozen stab wounds on the guy’s neck. I even considered tampering with the CCTV footage and hiding the body in the freezer. But I decided against that because cleaning up the blood would take too long; Harriet wouldn’t take long to return.

I intently watched my other self, hoping to get a clue about what I did next. I was drawing a serious blank.

She stepped back from the dead body, looking in the direction of the glass door.

“Oh, look out!” I yelled.

My other self slipped on the ice cream drippings on the floor and hit the back of her head on the edge of the counter. Everything went black.

The next time I could see, I was back in the Middle of Here and There, staring at the whiteness. My mind was reeling from processing everything that I didn’t react when Wonderwerk climbed up from his hiding spot.

“I’m… really dead,” I said. “What a very uncool way to die.”

(Author’s Notes: Isekai stories rarely spend much time on the MC’s prior life. My intent with this chapter is to describe Emery, add some background story, and use her last moments to show what she’s capable of given the chance to let loose. This is a test scene, so I’d very much appreciate your feedback. I feel that this chapter would let readers decide if they’d follow someone like this as a protagonist. Lastly, what do you think of her personality? I don’t want her to be an Erind 2.0. She’s likely more unhinged. We’ll see how this goes.)