My name is Bob Wilkinson. I was 41 years old. Forty-one years on this Earth without ever really leaving a mark. Virgin. Scrawny. Six foot three of emptiness. Originally from Texas, where men are supposed to be tough and manly. I was the exception that proved the rule.
I did everything that was expected of me. Kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, high school. I plowed through without flinching. Then university, where I chose to study International Tourism. A nice diploma, a promising future, my head full of travel dreams. I was going to discover the world, meet people, live adventures.
And then 9/11 happened.
The towers collapsed, and with them, the global economy. Paranoia set in. Nobody wanted to fly anymore. International travel shriveled up like a raisin. Studying tourism turned out not to be the greatest idea of the century. Thanks, universe. Thanks for screwing my destiny so thoroughly.
Anyway. All of that just to end up here. Dead. Kaput. Stiff. On my couch, earbuds jammed in my ears, listening to porn. Mouth half-open, drool on my lips, the pathetic image of a pathetic life. A legendary end.
Except here's the thing.
No heaven. No hell. No peaceful void. Nope. The universe still had something in store for me. I wake up on a planet straight out of a sci-fi movie. A purple sky, two suns burning my retinas, fluorescent vegetation that's anything but terrestrial.
I sit up, shaking, disoriented.
Bobby: "Whaaaaaar?"
I look at my hands. My real hands. My body. I pat myself down. I'm whole. Alive.
Bobby: "Shit... I'm dead."
A deep growl tears through the silence. My blood freezes instantly. I turn around, slowly, my neck stiff as an iron bar.
That's when I see it.
Some kind of tiger. But blue. Electric blue. With saber teeth as long as my forearm. Ten feet of muscle, claws, and hunger. Its yellow eyes lock onto me with an intensity that leaves zero doubt. I am today's special.
Bobby: "What did I ever do to the Good Lord? Nice, big blue kitty... nice..."
The beast roars. A sound that vibrates right down to my bones.
"GRAAAAAA!"
Bobby: "I know you're hungry, I get it, I really do. But please, don't eat me. Look at me. Nothing but skin and bones. Zero nutritional value. Zilch. Nada."
The creature doesn't look convinced. It takes a step forward. Its claws sink into the alien soil with a sound like chalk on a chalkboard. My legs are shaking. I'm about to piss myself. Definitely.
"WAGRRRR!"
Bobby: "Please... help..."
Ding!
A crystalline chime rings inside my head. A mechanical sound, perfectly incongruous. A box suddenly appears in my right hand. Square, black, covered in golden patterns swirling like miniature galaxies. A soft light radiates from it.
[Host is in danger. Activating emergency rescue box.]
I don't think. I can't. The blue tiger is getting ready to pounce. Its muscles coil. Its lips curl back. It's now or never.
I shatter the box.
Ding!
[Emergency rescue box shattered!]
[You obtained: the Body of Primarch Vulkan.]
[Warning: Host's body is currently weak. Strength will be temporarily reduced and will gradually adapt according to the host's future conditions.]
A heat floods my entire being. It's like molten metal being poured directly into my veins, into my bones, into every single one of my cells. The pain is excruciating. I scream. My body twists, transforms, rebuilds itself. Every muscle fiber tears apart and reforms, denser, more powerful.
When the sensation finally stops, I collapse to my knees. Trembling. Gasping. But alive.
I stand back up. My hands are no longer the same. My skin has taken on a black hue, dark and gleaming like polished obsidian. I feel raw power flowing through my limbs, like a dormant volcano just waiting to awaken. My body is massive, carved from granite. My muscles are dense, heavy, ready to shatter stone.
I bring my fingers to my face. My features are calm, strangely serene. A kind of ancient, wise beauty, almost divine. And in the murky reflection of an alien puddle, I catch a glimpse of my eyes. Red. Burning red. Like a sunset over a battlefield. Like lava flowing in the aftermath of war.
The blue tiger stares at me. Its ears flatten back. It saw the transformation. It senses the change. It hesitates.
Me, I'm not shaking anymore.
I stand tall. Six foot three of contained power.
Bobby: "So, big kitty... ready for round two?"
A roar. The beast leaps.
And this time, I'm ready.