The battlefield was a haze of gunfire and smoke. People yelled at him, begging for him to get up and fight, but he couldn't; he just lay there in his own pool of blood. Lucas had always been one to get mixed up in the wrong crowd—gangs, drug dealers, and junkies—but he never in a million years thought he was going to die. He had his whole life ahead of him, and now, in his final moments, he realized that all of it was for nothing. It was too late to realize that he had gotten caught in the gang war.

As he lay there, waiting for the darkness to overtake him, he thought with his final breath, "I wish I could have done more."

The darkness soon enveloped Lucas, and his vision faded to black. He woke up with a jolt in a place he could only describe as both nothing and everything. As he looked around, he sometimes saw faint flashes of places and people being created and destroyed. It began to overwhelm him when everything suddenly stopped, and there was silence. Unsure of what happened, he looked around when a voice suddenly spoke.

"Lucas Grant, you have been sent here because you have died, and we are deciding what to do with you." Lucas was stunned by the presence of these otherworldly beings.

"LUCAS GRANT!!" a booming voice churned in the void, coming from all directions. "You have lived a wicked life, and so you shall now punish the wicked until we decide otherwise. You shall be sent to hell. Unlike the one you may know, this one will be different. We will send you off with the power necessary to finish your task; whether you do finish it is up to you. But know this: as long as your soul remains wicked, you shall never know the sound of peace. Now off with thy wicked soul!"

Lucas gets sucked through what seemed to be a wormhole, bending the laws of time and space.