Ugh... What happened? I was at the cafe... and then... there was some guy in a mask... thought he wanted to rob the store... oh shit the store!

I try to open my eyes and get up, only to realize I can't feel anything. My body is a bloody, pulpy mess, leaning against the wall like a garbage bag. The bastard that nearly killed me stands above my body, rifle pointed at the cafe's patrons. Slowly, inching my way backwards, I feel my hands close around something metallic and hard.

Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me.

The man still hasn't noticed. Alright. Slowly... take it off the wall... and move behind him and then...

With the last of my body's adrenaline-filled strength, I smash the fire extinguisher straight into his head.

Or so I thought. Apparently, being half-dead makes it difficult to be precise. Instead, I smash his shoulder in, and he turns, unloading a round right between my eyes.

So much for employee of the month, huh? I should be scared and seeing my life flash before my eyes right now, but all I see is red. Like a big shiny apple. I'd like to eat an apple... Wait! Stay awake dammit! Fire extinguisher. Smack guy in head. Then die.

I slowly inch my truly dead self towards the fire extinguisher. Powered by willpower or the devil, I didn't care to ponder.

Fire extinguisher. Smack guy in head. Then die. No breaks.

I feel my hands wrap around the metal once more.

Fire extinguisher. What was it for? Guy. Smack guy in head. Then die?

It's heavy. Impossibly heavy.

Tired. Fire extinguisher. For guy. Hit head. Tired.

A silent scream makes it's way out of my mouth, as I force myself to grab it, and get up behind the man.

FIRE EXTINGUISHER. HIT GUY. DONT STOP. DONT STOP.

Lifting the fire extinguisher in a pathetic excuse for an attack, I barely swing it, gravity doing most of the work. This time, I miss, by an even larger margin. I hit his hand, and he fires a shot into his foot.

Good. I can stop now. So Tireeeassdeasdede...

I fall, finally done. The man turns to unload another round, only for the fire extinguisher to drop on his foot. In a moment of pain, he misfires, fatally wounding himself.

Stolen novel; please report.

I'm dying now... I should be sad... but I'm just tired...

~~~~~~~~~~

"What the hell!?" I scream. I'm alive. holy shit. where'd the bullet wound go? I grab at my face. No wounds. I didn't imagine it. Where am I? What is this place? I shiver, breathing heavily.

Calm down. Analyze the situation. I'm in an unknown place. I got patched up somehow. No, it wasn't possible. I was truly dead. That means... I'm in the afterlife. But which one. Shit, what do I do now? If only I had-

A man strides in, wearing a cloak and an eye-patch. "Hello? You must be the barista."

"The barista?" I ask, confused.

"Yes. The barista, who wields the Firesbane in battle, and perished defending the innocent."

"Firesbane? Defending the innocent? What?"

"Your weapon is designed to kill the flame, is it not?"

"What do you mean by that... Oh... no that's a fire extinguisher, not a... firesbane."

"Oh? Tell me more about this fire... extinguisher. Oh, and where did you gain the legendary title of Barista?"

"Well, a fire extingu- what do you mean by legendary title?"

"Well, we've never seen a barista in Valhalla before. So you must have been a truly legendary warrior to-

"Wait a minute. I'm in Valhalla? That would mean you're ... Odin in disguise!" The cloaked figure rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

"Yes, I am."

"Cool. Can you stop with the legend talk?"

"Fine. This better?"

"Much better. By the way, what exactly is going on?"

"Well you have been chosen, as one of the few-" I cut him off.

"No legend talk, remember? Give me the rundown."

"Alright fine. Basically, you died heroically, saving several people while in immense pain with sheer force of will. Considering you did so well with a unique weapon and you already have a title, we welcome you to Valhalla."

"Does my being an atheist cause any problems?"

"Not really. I don't really care much about the whole, "Teach them your ways from birth!" stuff that God guy keeps preaching. Your in Valhalla now though, so you better not challenge the gods and stuff, you know the usual."

"What happens if I challenge a god?"

"Well, let's say you challenged me to a battle of wits. If you won, I'd have to grant you anything within my power. If you lose, your bound to me for life, almost like slavery, but with perks."

"Can I challenge you to any game of wits?" I ask, a challenging tone making it's way into my voice.

"Hoh? Do you want to start committing hubris already? Fine. What do you think you know more about then I do?" He replies, smug.

"I know more about coffee making and preparation then you would know." He looks at me, taking me seriously.

"Unorthodox display of hubris, but very well." his voice booms, his disguise revealing his true form.

The next 14 hours are spent arguing about the nuances of coffeemaking and the finer points of anything relating to it. By the end however, 14 years of running and owning a coffee shop was enough to bring the knowledge of both to a standstill. Both Odin and the Barista knew everything there was to know about coffee.

Odin laughed. "To think a human would come close to beating me in a battle of wits. Very well then. Do we both win, or do we both lose?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"Either nothing happens, or you are bound to me, as one of my servants, though it's more like a... what do you call it? Contract? Yes. I will grant you several boons, on the condition that you help me out with things from time to time."

"I accept."

"Alright! Then your first job. Teach me how to make an espresso without a machine!"

"What?"

"I know how, just... It never tastes like the stuff in coffee shops." He sighs.

"Alright. So first you want to make sure...

And that is how I, a nameless barista, became The Barista, Wielder of Firesbane.