Jake ran so hard he threw up a heap of freshly eaten spaghetti all over his crinkled suit. He looked both ways – one loose hanging string of pasta slapping each cheek – and knew the no-good mobsters converging on him were in much better shape than he was.

Who was he kidding?

He was a mobster too.

Well, not the hitman, muscle type chasing him. But more of the scheming, cheating, up-to-no-good type.

Jake stole his first bitcoin at seventeen, robbed his first e-sports gambling event at twenty, and most currently… he swindled the mafia to impress a girl. He lived for the scheme, and had a real knack for squirming his way out of consequences.

Today, though?

The chickens were coming home to roost.

He coughed out the last of his dinner and ran down the puddle-ridden ally, his feet slapping up dirty water with each frantic step. His heart pulsed in his ears; He’d really done it this time. There was no way he’d talk his way out of this one. Using the Don’s daughter to get into his underground card game, and robbing it, was one step too far.

Yep. He was dead. For sure.

His heaving breath intensified when he tripped over a stray piece of garbage. “Ack!” He fumbled two steps and crashed palms first into the mud. His blazer was soaked, cheek scraped, and hands numb from breaking his fall.

“Oh no. Oh damn. Oh shit.” Jake kicked his legs in all directions to try and get back up, but felt a jolting pain when one of the mobsters stomped out his ankle. “Mother f—”

The same man yanked him by the collar off his feet like he was a dangling piece of paper.

“Mikey, I thought we were friends.” Jake smiled desperately, shivering. “Remember the, the, the E-token job? We ate good that night, huh? C’mon, Mikey.”

The man’s fist was the size of Jake’s head… his breath smelled like a mix of espresso and metallic. “Yeah, I remember.” He gritted his teeth, looking at the four other goons just catching up. “Jake the Ripper. I remember too well. You went to Artie and said you deserved my cut for orchestrating the whole thing. What were your words exactly?”

Jake gulped. He’d talked a lot of smack in his time.

“Oh yeah, ‘if you told the boys to stick their heads up their own asses, they’d think they got a good deal.’”

Jake tilted his head in defeat. “Mikey, c’mon. You know that’s just not true. Mikey. Mikey.”

The big man lowered him so his feet touched the ground again.

Jake let out a breath, wiping his crinkled suit flat. “See, we can talk it out—”

Pff.

Mikey’s fist connected with Jake’s temple so hard, his hearing reduced to a piercing ring. His vision swam, making it look like a whole army of shadowed mobsters was staring up at him, until he blacked out momentarily from the concussion.

“Ugh.” He blinked to lucidity again, noticing the wind kicked up, wherever he was.

He blinked a few more times, realizing his legs and torso were being carried by two different people… and why could he see the city skyline?

He suppressed the panic rising inside of him. Things were bad. Really bad. But there was always a way. Always some angle to find, some small crack to slip through. He’d survived bad before.

This is it, he told himself. One last scheme. Beg for your life to make them feel big. Tell them you have a big cash cow with their names on it. Sell it to them, Jake. Sell it good. Then when you get out of this one, you find Maria, you run far away, and you never look back.

You got this. You’re the Ripper.

You got this.

“No. No. No.” He began fidgeting like a fish out of water. “C’mon, Mikey. What do you want? Money? You know I blew it all on the Blackjack game in Enzo’s joint. You watched me. John-B, c’mon.” He tried to turn his head, having a feeling that’s who was holding his lower half. “John-B, me and Maria got a good thing going. How’s it going to look if I’m dead?”

“Pretty messy,” John-B said, causing the others to cackle.

“The Don’s daughter isn’t going to let you guys live it down. We’re going steady,” Jake lied. “Fine. Fine. I’ll give you guys a cut of the gaming website gig. Fuck it. You can have the whole operation. I’ll run it for free. Who’s better than me, huh?” He laughed nervously as the building ledge came closer into view.

That was it. That’s the play.

There’s no better job than my site gig. His breathing became erratic as he awaited their response.

“You really should’ve stuck with what you were good at. Computer hacking, game scamming. All that nerdy shit suited you better. The Don loved your edge.” Mikey snapped his tongue, shaming him. “Such a waste.” He yanked Jake free from John-B and cracked his back over the ledge, staring at him with delight in his eyes. “It’s been a long time coming, Jake the Ripper. You ripped him off, him off.” He pointed at the four other men surrounding him. “Him off, and him off. Worst of all, you ripped me off.”

“Mikey please, please?” Jake begged, holding his empty hands up innocently.

“When Artie made the order, who do you think volunteered? Guess I really got my head up my ass now, huh?” Mikey smiled one last time for Jake to internalize all of his pearly teeth. “Bye, bye, Ripper.” He bent low, grabbed one of Jake’s legs and flipped him over the roof ledge.

Jake’s breath caught in his chest as gravity took him. His limbs flailed numbly, his mouth open, swallowing the muggy city air. He didn’t even notice the urine flapping out of his pants, because all he could do was scream as the ground came closer into view. Until…

Bmph.

…

…

…

Earth phase ended.

Shuffling options…

Jake saw nothing but the bold wording in an otherwise blank canvas. And it was clear to him that he no longer had a body, just some kind of contained consciousness.

“What is this? Some kind of joke?”

This is not a joke.

You have been awakened to the System…

“Oh, you hear me? Why do you say that as if it’s something I would understand?” A sudden fear rose up. He’d heard of VR used for torture. “You don’t work for the don, do you?”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The System is unaffiliated with any Earth parties

“That’s a relief…

“Hey Sys, that’s a relief, right?”

Option one processed: Reestablish Consciousness within the cosmos as a Floater.

“What, like a piece of shit in a toilet?” Jake scowled.

Incorrect. A toilet is a confined space.

Jake laughed again in his head. “So you’re not denying the piece of shit part?”

You may drift between realms and remit observations to the System. Do you accept this path?

Y/N

“Yeah, no. I’ll pass. Thanks.” Jake felt in his mind that the System, although a bit rigid, was warming up to him, especially considering it hadn’t zapped his consciousness to oblivion yet. So he decided a bolder move. “Okay. How about this for a shuffled option: crack my bones back into place, stuff my organs where they belong, stitch me up, and march me right back to life. This way I can tell Maria how I really feel and scare the shit out of Don Artie’s goons. I think that would be a fun win-win for me and you, Sys. Hm?”

System Administrators have found your plea amusing. However, the option was rejected by the System itself.

“At least someone has a sense of humor. Not looking at you, Sys.” He snickered mentally to himself.

Shuffling options…

Option two processed—

“Hey, Sys. Is there any way I can somehow be reinserted with a position of importance in the world, and maybe see Maria again? I think that would be a nice compromise since I can’t have my body back. Just make me someone else. Give me a chance. I don’t want to deal with any floating star bullshit…

“No disrespect, of course.”

Shuffling options…

The System would like to offer you a deal:

If your needs presented may be met, will you accept the System’s assignment without further questions?

Y/N

“So you’re sick of my shit too, huh?” Jake considered the offer. “Fine. Fuck it. I don’t know what would happen if I pissed you off further. So let’s do it. Agree to my terms, and we’re good, Sys.”

Reincarnation Integration Complete

Life experience processed and converted to suitable existence

Secondary phase activated:

Demon Spawn – Level 1

Racial Archetype: Goat

Jake opened his eyes in a panic. He tried to flail, but realized he had a very different set of limbs. Rigid, stubby ones, with hooves. “Baaah!” He bleated his frustrations, jerking his head side to side in shock.

“Baaah!” He tried to speak again to no avail, noticing a field of freshly cut green grass with a rickety barn not far in front of him.

What in god’s hell? You tricked me, Sys!

He began to hyperventilate as he stared down in shock at the curly black fur covering his body, his shiny hooves, his long snout. This can’t be real.

What are you saying, Jake? Of course it can. Think of Sys. She, it, or whatever wanted to turn us into a turd floating around in space. This was the next best option.

What the hell am I, anyway? Was that prompt serious. Am I really a goat?

Oh god. He suddenly felt terribly confined.

Next, in pure panic, he tried to use his hind legs to run, only to confirm how much different this experience would be.

Boof.

He face-planted into the grass and rolled onto his back, looking up at four stiff hooved limbs and a cloudy sky above.

Great, I’m stuck. Did I kill myself in this body already?

“Baah!” He bleated, rocking side to side in an attempt to get back upright.

C’mon, Jake. You can do this. Get up.

More rocking back and forth.

After the tenth time, he loosened his joints and rolled awkwardly upright, nearly face-planting again from the clumsy thin stilts holding him up. His thoughts went haywire, thinking of how this could possibly be real, whether he was dreaming, and finally… how to make sense of all this.

Another prompt appeared in the center of his vision, impossible to ignore:

Status

Manic Juice [0/10]

Replenishment Skills:

Consume [+2 MJ]

Destructive Skills:

Hot Run [-2 MJ]

*Mind Raid [-5 MJ]

Batwings [Free]

Manic Juice? That does not sound promising. Is that supposed to be like, my mana? God this feels like some kind of fucked up game.

Consume gives plus two MJ? I guess MJ is short for Manic Juice. Okay. What am I consuming? Grass?

He looked through the list of Destructive Skills

Mind Raid? I can read peoples thoughts? What?

I don’t like this. Get me out. I changed my mind. Sys? Let me look at stars!

Jake shook his head to get the bold text out of his vision, and then when that didn’t work, he began jumping frantically in all directions, until, on his third leap, he took flight – two black demonic wings burst out of his back, sending a splash of blood oozing down his black fur. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly felt strange. His wings lasted one awful flap before crumbling into decrepit remains, leaving Jake once again falling to his death.

Mikey! He screamed in his mind, reliving the trauma.

Crunch.

Ugh, he sighed in his head.

Each of his little limbs felt broken. And if anyone was watching, he was pretty sure they would be sending a priest on their way to exorcise this crazy flying goat version of himself soon.

Even the thought of a priest made Jake’s skin sizzle.

Who was he kidding? There were no priests out here, wherever here was. The best he could hope for was a farmer to put him out of his misery.

No. There was always a way. He’d been given a chance by whatever this System was, and he couldn’t let it slip by. He’d figure this out. If he could be turned into a goat, then that meant he could be turned back into a human. For now, he just had to take it one step at a time. Starting with… well, steps.

Okay... at least the text is gone, Jake told himself, feeling perplexed when his limbs cracked back into place.

Right, take it slow. Let’s just figure out standing up straight first, and then I’ll figure out what to do next.

Easier said than done.

The rocking process started again, Jake counting ‘one-two’ over and over in his head. He got to his hooves once more, considering whether he’d just summoned a set of disgusting ‘Batwings’ somehow just by thinking it.

Hm. The barn is much further away now. Jake considered, reorienting himself, turning one clumsy leg at a time to look in the other direction. He was on a hill, he realized, looking over at another barn far below with rotting wood and green gas coming out of it.

Weird neighbors. He grimaced, then salivated noticing garbage littered all around like a giant goat-inviting welcome mat, leading all the way up the hill he stood upon. He looked over it all, trying to garner some idea of what the people here might look like. If he was a Demon Spawn, did that mean he was in hell?

“Baah!” He bleated uncontrollably, his gaze drawn to a scrunched metal can with delight.

Why did a discarded, rotten piece of debris look so delicious to him? It was the same feeling as being served a fresh bowl of hot pasta drizzled in olive oil. He wanted to eat it, now.

Th-thump. Th-thump. He galloped intuitively over to the piece of garbage and chomped down on it, cutting his gums on the ripping metal, feeling nothing but pleasure as he scarfed it down and swallowed it.

+2 Manic Juice attained.

Note: Future prompts will display ‘+2 MJ’

Yep, definitely still feels like one of my games. Jake stared at the prompt in his vision, licking his lips free of blood and metallic remnants. Out of curiosity, he thought of activating Hot Run, now that he had the MJ to use it, and immediately smelt burning fur.

Fssshh.

He burst into sudden flames, his hooves molten orange, grass burning beneath him.

“Baaah!” He screamed in dismay and began galloping frantically down the hill.

He was amazed by the balance he had – nearly galloping vertical – but quickly became consumed with fear when the flames bolstered around him like a demonic aura. “Baah!”

Oh god! Oh shit! Water! Water!

He b-lined frantically toward the sea of garbage, seeing no sign of liquid to put this awful fire out, but he glimpsed the next best thing – people.

Two silhouettes came quickly into view.

Help! He wanted to scream. Do something!

But two doe-eyed farmers only threw their raking tools in a panic and tried to run away from Jake.

“Baah!” Jake gained speed far beyond any he’d ever known, desperate to try and plea with them. But as he got closer, a deep humming rumbled in his head… his vision turning infrared. “Baah!” He accelerated demonically fast, making an innocent cry for help suddenly look like a flaming Fiat was rolling to mow bystanders down.

Fssssh.

Jake crashed right into them, setting them both ablaze unnaturally quickly before he came to his senses.

He stopped and tilted his head to stare at his scorching fur, realizing for the first time that the fire wasn’t harming him at all. In fact, it was kind of cozy. But then he looked up and grimaced at the two freshly made corpses.

First murder committed.

Admittance into competition for Demon Lord successor initiated.

Ah crap.