Jack opened his eyes to white. Not the white of hospital walls or fresh snow - just endless, blank white stretching in every direction. His head felt clear, no hangover, no aches, no weight of his gun against his ribs.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Jack spun around, instincts kicking in, but there was nothing to fight. Just more white.
"Show yourself," he said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded for a dead man.
A figure appeared, sitting in a leather armchair that hadn't been there a second ago. He looked like Morgan Freeman in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, flip-flops on his feet and a coconut drink in his hand.
"Really?" Jack said. "This is what God looks like?"
The figure shrugged. "I look different to everyone. You must watch a lot of movies."
"So I'm dead then?"
"As a doornail. Bullet to the brain tends to do that." The god took a sip from his coconut. "Want to guess where you're headed?"
Jack looked around at the endless white. "This doesn't look like hell."
"Oh, this isn't your final stop. This is more like... divine customs and immigration." The god waved his hand and another chair appeared. "Have a seat. We need to talk about your next life."
Jack sat, more because his legs told him to than any real desire to chat. "Next life?"
"You didn't think it was just heaven or hell, did you? The universe is bigger than that. Multiple universes, actually. Which brings us to why you're here." The god leaned forward. "I'm bored, and you're going to entertain me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"See, most souls, we just recycle them. New body, clean slate. But sometimes, I like to make things interesting." The god snapped his fingers and a massive slot machine appeared, its screens dark and waiting. "We're going to play a little game."
Jack eyed the machine. It looked like something from Vegas on steroids - gold-plated, covered in blinking lights, but with screens instead of spinning wheels.
"What's the catch?"
The god smiled. "Smart man. There's always a catch. This machine determines your next life - your powers, your circumstances, everything. But here's the thing: you only get one pull."
Jack stood up and walked around the machine. "And if I say no?"
"Then you get the standard package. Reborn as a baby somewhere, normal life, no memories. Safe, boring, predictable."
That last word made Jack's skin crawl. He'd never done well with predictable.
"What kind of powers are we talking about?"
The god waved his hand and images flashed across the screens - people flying, throwing fire, lifting cars, walking through walls. "Depends on what you roll. Could be anything. Could be nothing. That's the game."
"And the catch you mentioned?"
"Ah, yes." The god finished his drink. "Whatever you roll, I get to add a... modifier. A little twist to make things interesting. Could be good, could be bad. That's my part of the game."
Jack touched the machine's handle. It felt warm, almost alive. "Why offer this at all?"
"Like I said - I'm bored. Immortality gets dull. Sometimes we gods like to roll the dice, see what happens. Nothing deeper than that."
Jack grabbed the handle. "Let's get this over with."
He pulled. The screens lit up, spinning with impossible speed, images blurring past faster than thought. Powers, worlds, lives - all flashing by in a cosmic game of chance.
Then they stopped. All three screens showed blank cards.
The god burst out laughing. "Oh, this is perfect! Absolutely perfect!"
"What's so funny?"
"Blank cards mean I get to choose everything. Your powers, your world, your circumstances - all of it. And I know exactly where to put you."
Jack felt a chill despite the lack of temperature in the white void. "And the modifier?"
"Memory loss." The god stood up, suddenly serious. "Complete and total. Everything you are, everything you were - gone. You'll be someone entirely new."
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" The god's laugh turned cold. "You drowned eleven men. Made them beg for their lives while concrete dried around their feet. Fair isn't part of the equation."
Jack wanted to argue, but what could he say? The god wasn't wrong.
"So what powers do I get, at least?"
The god smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "Ever heard of Spider-Man?"
Before Jack could answer, the god snapped his fingers. The white void began to fade.
"Wait! What world am I going to? What's going to happen to me?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Or... well, you won't, because you won't remember any of this. But trust me - this is going to be fun to watch."
The last thing Jack saw was the god raising his coconut in a toast. Then everything went black, and Jack Ingof ceased to exist.