“God bless you,” The woman wept as Joe handed her the small box of food. “You don’t know what this means to us.”

“My pleasure, Ma’am.” Joe smiled at her, moving humbly on to the next person in line. They thanked him profusely as well. Again, he demurred from the praise, simply nodding and turning to the next.

In less than twenty minutes, his boot was empty, and he hopped into the car with a promise to come back soon.

Pulling away from the curb and onto the road out of the small neighborhood, Joseph Steffen could not deny feeling good. Times were tough these days, and the food banks were doing a roaring trade. Often too busy to see everyone, the one he volunteered at was at their wit’s end.

Until he had the idea to make deliveries.

He had the car and the time, so why not?

Now, they added their details to the delivery requests whenever they had to turn someone away due to running low on supplies or time. It was a couple of extra hours a week to run around and deliver them, no big deal.

Joe knew he was one of the lucky ones. While others his age were struggling, he was blessed. And he intended to pass that along.

It took less than ten minutes to get back to the Food Bank, even in rush hour. People recognized his car and simply let him pass if they could. It was kind of embarrassing but nice. The calls of ‘not an average Joe’ were the worst.

He knew his mother had kept the news piece on him, but he really hoped everyone else would have forgotten by now.

Was it really so unusual for someone to do charity work?

“If it wasn’t for the Stefens, this town wouldn’t have any jobs to give!” As Joe pushed open the door, Stacy was arguing with a man in torn, old clothes.

“If they’re so high and mighty, how come they pay wages so low everyone has to go to food banks?” The man snapped back.

“Everyone has their limits,” Joe said sternly. “If we paid more, we couldn’t afford to employ so many.”

The man’s eyes widened in recognition momentarily before he looked away.

“Sorry,” The man muttered. “It’s the third time I’ve come here for food, and the third time it’s run out before I get anything.”

“Damn!” Joe rubbed the back of his head. “Look, I’m really sorry about that. Give us your details, and I’ll drop a box round after I get the supplies sorted.”

“I don’t want no special treatment,” The man muttered, unable to look Joe in the eyes. “I just got a family to feed.”

“No special treatment,” Joe replied, “Just one neighbor helping another.”

The man hesitated, then nodded and put his name down on the list.

With the situation resolved, Joe waved to Stacy and headed into the back.

“I hear we ran out again,” Joe said to the middle-aged women sitting forlornly in a room full of empty shelves. Kerry was the one responsible for setting up the food bank, but everyone called it Joe’s Place these days.

“It’s getting worse,” Kerry replied with a tense smile. “It just never ends.” She pushed her brown hair back, revealing the first hints of grey hiding behind her ears. “How did the deliveries go?”

“Simple as always,” Joe said, “When can we get some more supplies?”

“Not until the end of the week,” Kerry said sadly, “The shops are running low on good will these days.”

“Here,” Joe grabbed his wallet. “I have a bit spare, it’s not much, but it’s something.” He searched through, finding his mom had topped up his money again. She was constantly worried he would run short of something.

He couldn’t even remember the last time anyone actually asked him to pay for things. They always just said it was on the house. He had a little over fifteen hundred, which his mother called ‘running around money.’

“I can’t take this,” Kerry gaped at the folded bills. “This is two weeks pay!”

“But less than a week's worth of food, even if we only get the cheapest stuff,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I might have to get my parents to start kicking some money in regularly.” He smiled.

“You’re sure?” Kerry asked again, eyes darting to the empty shelves.

“Of course,” Joe said. He wanted to tell her it was just his money for the day, but it felt a little awkward to say anything about it after her response.

“I’ll get to the shops right now!” Kerry said with a wide smile. She brushed past him and stopped to look back. “I know you hate it, but that article was right. You really are no ordinary Joe.”

He managed to bask in the warmth of that comment for almost fifteen minutes before the local killjoy crashed it.

“Oh, Joe! Thank you for the scraps from your table; how would we live without you?” Brenda’s sarcastic voice matched her look. Baggy clothes hung on a too-thin frame, but any pity it might have engendered in Joe was washed away by the pin cushion face and short hair styled into red spikes and waves.

All she was missing was a set of face tattoos.

“Hello, Brenda,” He sighed. “Having a good day?”

“Let’s see,” Brenda snapped. “I woke up in my flea-ridden apartment to find out they cut off my electricity again. After a cold shower and a cold cup of last night’s coffee, I spent the day trying to get a job.” She looked like she wanted to spit. “As that didn’t lead to money falling from the heavens, I sold some blood so I could eat tonight.” She sneered at him, “And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, Kerry called to tell me to thank you for the money you gave her.”

“I was just helping out,” Joe said defensively. “I didn’t ask for thanks.”

“You never do,” Brenda laughed at him. “You always make a point of not asking.”

“So?” Joe said, feeling himself flushing, “You would prefer I demand thanks?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t act like you owned the place,” Brenda said acidically.

“I don’t.” Joe snapped.

“No, but Mummy and Daddy do, don’t they?” Brenda laughed. “And everybody knows it.”

“Fuck off, I work here, same as you and anyone else,” Joe said stiffly.

“No, you don’t,” Brenda said with a smirk. “We sacrifice to work here. It costs us money, time, and effort.” Her eyes looked him up and down. “You come here and bask in the paupers' adulation, then run back to your fancy house full of food, money on tap, and tell yourself you’re the good guy.”

“I didn’t choose my family,” Joe said despite having had this argument before. “I just try and pass on the blessings.”

“Fuck off!” Brenda laughed again. “You could pay the bills on this place anonymously and do something else.” She jabbed her finger in his chest. “You prefer to come here and let everyone tell you how great you are.”

“You come here because it’s the only place that will have your stinking carcass working here!” Joe snapped. “Maybe if you didn’t hammer metal into your face and dye your hair like a whore you’d have somewhere else to work!”

“And there he is,” Brenda beamed, “Joe, the little rich boy.” She laughed as she walked past him, “They’re right about you in one way. You’re no average Joe, and you never will be.”

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Just for a second, he wanted to smash the bitchy little cow against the wall. Or maybe show her what kind of muscles a ‘rich boy’ had until she begged for forgiveness like the revolting little gutter born-

Joe took a few calming breaths. That wasn’t him

It wasn’t.

By the time Kerry came back with Tracy and the shopping, Joe felt a little bit more himself. He smiled at them, helping as they brought in the supplies.

“What did she say this time?” Kerry asked with a weary sigh. “I can see it on your face.

“It was nothing,” Joe said, carefully. “We just don’t get on, I guess.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Kerry shook her head. “Why don’t you take an early night?”

“I promised I’d run that guy round a box,” Joe said seriously. “I don’t like to let people down.”

“I’ll make it up now!” Tracy said, patting him on the shoulder as she passed. “You deserve a break!”

He argued a little, but he could use an early night if he was honest. It was so tiring having to defend himself to people like Brenda. Why couldn’t they just accept his help and smile, or at least not treat him like a hindrance? They didn’t understand; he was just like anyone else.

“Here you go,” Tracy said, handing him the box. “We’ll deal with Brenda while you get a cold beer.”

“Thanks,” Joe said, “Sure you can manage without me?”

“We’ll manage,” Tracy said, waving him out the door.

He had just placed the box in his boot when he remembered he needed the address. Pushing open the door carefully to avoid the little bell, Joe leaned over the desk and grabbed the form.

Loud voices in the back room caught his attention.

It would be nice to hear Brenda getting torn a new one. He wasn’t claiming to be perfect, after all.

The door to the packing room was almost closed, but not quite. He eased it open a little more, pressing himself against the wall to make sure he wasn’t seen.

“He said that!” Kerry laughed. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” Brenda’s voice was smug, “I have hair like a hooker!”

“I don’t think he’s ever seen a hooker,” Tracy joked. “They don’t have such nice hair.”

“Oh, please,” Kerry said. “Joe doesn’t need hookers.”

He felt his tensed shoulders start to relax. At least Kerry had his back.

“They only go after that boy for Daddy’s money,” Kerry said, “Without his parents being loaded, Joe couldn’t get a blowie on a porn shoot!”

“He’s not bad looking,” Tracy said, “But he’s so full of himself I recon he blows himself every night!”

All of them laughing had his blood pumping in his veins. Joe tried to do his breathing exercises to cool down, but they weren’t really helping this time.

“Thanks, guys,” Brenda sighed as the laughter wound down. “I needed that.”

“Just try and remember we need him,” Kerry said kindly. “He’s adding to our workload, but that money of his can help a lot of people.”

“If he got out the way,” Tracy said sharply. “That stupid delivery thing of his takes up most of his time and leaves us short every damn day.”

“How come he always takes so much?” Brenda asked.

“He hands them out,” Kerry said. “I saw him one day. Heads to a poor area and hands them out of his boot to anyone who asks.”

“You’re kidding!” Tracy said. “Around here, or?”

“Nope,” Kerry huffed. “Today, he was over by another food bank. They called to tell me.”

“Prick gets hard off the praise,” Brenda spat.

Joe turned and walked away. It wasn’t like he knew about the other food banks! They could have just told him.

It was the story of his life; everyone just failed to see how genuine he was and how much he wanted to help. All they saw was the little rich boy.

As he dropped into the driver’s seat, Joe’s greatest wish was to finally get out from under his parent’s influence. To go somewhere, he could make his OWN name.

He screamed as his vision blanked, the darkness only interrupted by two glowing words.

Wish Granted!

============

“Welcome, my Paragon!” A feminine voice called in the darkness, which slowly started to lighten.

“Where am I?” Joe demanded. Had he been kidnapped? He was sure no time had passed but…

“In my throne room, a rare honor for a mortal.” The voice was warm, and comforting, but exciting all at the same time. “I know you have questions, my new Paragon, but I shall answer them.”

As light finished returning to his world, Joe found himself sitting not in his car but on an ornate chair that sat in the center of a room that faded into a swirling blue and green mist after a few feet. The only furniture was his chair and a raised throne of gold and jewels upon which sat… an angel.

“Are you a messenger from God?” Joe asked.

“I am the Goddess of Empathy, Charity, and The Rivers,” She laughed. “My Paragon has no need of any other Gods or their messengers.”

“Why am I here?” Joe asked, “And what was that message I received?”

“You wished to go somewhere to make your own name,” She leaned forward, her features shifting as she moved. One second, she was a blond maiden; another, she was a red-haired vixen; then another, a stately silver-haired woman. “I have chosen you to be my Paragon and have granted your wish.”

“What’s a paragon?” Joe wanted to insist this was all some dream or something… But the reality of it was everywhere. His very soul rang with her words.

“There are fifteen Gods and Goddesses on this world, and after my dear brother chose one from another world to empower… well, we argued. In short, each God or Goddess will choose a mortal. Only one.” She stood, in the process becoming the very image of a battle maiden, “I chose you.”

“I’m honored, Ma’am,” Joe felt his blood beating in his veins. He had always known he was destined for greatness! “I was never told Earth had so many Gods!”

“You are no longer on your pitiful backwater of a planet,” She laughed. “My world offers much better options for you.”

Joe simply gaped.

“I have scraped the knowledge of your planet, and it is pitiful. Of use, however, is the gaming systems of your world. It is similar to the magic of our own world.” She smiled, her hair flowing in a black waterfall down a pale naked form for a second before moving to another armored woman, “You understand the principle of Classes, Levels, and Progression?”

“Yes, Goddess,” Joe said. One of his first charity projects had been trying to get a bunch of unpopular kids in school to a better position in the school. They had been obsessed with such games. It was a natural way to get to know them.

“Good, that will save time.” She beamed, and he felt his heart soar in her happiness with him. “Simply swear to be my Paragon, and this class shall be yours.”

Chosen Paladin of the Goddess

Divine Rarity

Lvl 1 Abilities

Paladin’s Arms:

Summon armor, sword, and shield.

Increases with lvl in both power and quality.

Cooldown: One Day

Paladin’s Grace:

Double your power, mana, and health for five minutes.

Cooldown: One Hour

Paladin’s Bounty:

Heal wounds.

At higher levels can regrow limbs and cleanse curses.

Cost: 10 Mana

Starting stats

Power: 50

Mana: 20

Health: 135

Replenish Mana: 1 per minute.

Lvl 10 Abilities

Summon Mount:

Summon a shining Paladin Charger.

Cooldown: One week.

Higher levels add armor and Health to the mount.

“The class is Divine, and even your starting stats are boosted. At Level One, you will be stronger than a level FIVE of the next rarity of classes.” She smiled. “And you will level fast if you work hard.”

“So it is a warrior class?” Joe asked. “I fight to level?”

“You can, but you will also gain experience and levels from any service for others. If it is according to my will, of course.” She smiled. “What say you, Mortal?”

“I accept,” Joe said humbly. “I swear to serve as your Paragon and bring glory to your name.”

“I shall send you to a distant outpost, long overlooked. Many there need your help. It will be the first step on the path for you.” She suddenly looked severe. “Do NOT fail me.”

“I won’t,” Joe said, falling to his knees. “My Goddess.”

“Good boy,” She patted him on the head. “And Good Luck!”

============

Joe took a single step forward, and by the time he had blinked, the throne room of his Goddess was gone, his sneakers crunching on the dried leaves of a dusty roadway made of flat rocks. On either side of this strange road were giant withered mushroom stalks, like dead tree trunks topped not with leaves but instead with the shrunken remains of mushroom caps. Tall, pointed caps now scrunched and wrinkled like folded umbrellas.

The bottom of the stalks disappeared into bare earth with the occasional tuft of what seemed to be grass from a distance. When he looked closer, it was a succulent of some form, thin little stalks in a pale green giving a grass-like look if you didn’t know any better.

Turning his eyes upward, he saw a pale yellow sky overhead with clouds of a sunset red. Yet the sun was visible, high above. It, at least, looked normal to him.

In the distance, clouds swollen with what he assumed was rain looked a deep, bloodlike red.

He really hoped the rain didn’t look like blood. Joe blanched for a moment when he realized that, for all he knew, it was blood. The strange road ahead of him turned, vanishing into the mushroom stalks that covered as far as he could see until a distant mountain rose to block off sight.

Joe felt a call to proceed down the road.

“Your will be done,” Joe breathed, and the feeling pulsed.

With his head held high, he took a step and set off to make his legend.