Hey readers! Thank you so much for clicking on this book. I hope you enjoy and continue to read to completion. I'm interested in your thoughts, so after you read each chapter, read my post author note and answer the questions I posted and share your thoughts on the book. I love interacting with readers. I'm even down with the hate...at least I know you read it, right?

  Without further ado...Here's Bart!

  Chapter 1

  What in the world am I being warned about?

  "I don't have time for this!" I yelled at the notification.

  I was too busy running from a couple of swamp rats, aka nutria, that were trying to eat me to stop and choose some lineage or whatever. I wasn’t in a game! This was real life. It had to be. The pain of that first bite proved this was all too real. Nutrias shouldn’t act like crazed hyenas, but these two buck-toothed rats were insane.

  I woke up a few minutes ago with a splitting headache only to be greeted with two rodents of unusual size gnawing at my legs.

  “Dad!” I yelled again. The swamp foliage was so dense I couldn’t even hear an echo. “Where are you, old man?”

  A flash of memory hit me. Dad and I on his fishing boat.

  A brush against my leg. These damn rats were fast! It snapped, but a swift sidekick knocked it off course.

  I’d lost track of how long I’d been running, but the stitch in my side alerted me I couldn’t keep this up much longer. My abrupt introduction to my new life didn’t give me time to worry about how this all happened. I just knew I had to run to get away from my attackers. And these damn words kept flashing in my vision. They weren’t entirely opaque, but they weren’t transparent either. I’m sure there was a reason for them, but I couldn’t just stop and pull up an easy chair and read through options right now, could I?

  Another flash of memory! Boat slamming against huge wave that shouldn’t have been there. Boat lifted clean out of the water.

  I saw a stick on the ground just in front of me that looked strong enough to use as a temporary weapon. I grabbed it and got another game-like notification telling me what I was seeing. Not very helpful though.

  “No,” I verbally declined while I scooped up the stick. “Now to find a space where I can square off against these critters.”

  A stick was better than nothing. In Dad's boat, we had filet knives, Gerber pliers, a rifle, and God knows how many tools I could've used right now. But no. I had woken up with nothing but the clothes on my body.

  The area was all puddles, cypress knees (the roots of the cypress tree that grow up), and uneven terrain. My tactical brain, earned from 20 years of service to our US Army, hooah, was always working, trying to find an advantage.

  Memory flash. Me. Getting up from the ground, filthy, covered in vomit, splitting headache, warnings flashing, coughing up blood. Pain.

  Just ahead was a clearing just big enough for me to stand my ground. Reed grass lined a muddy area about twenty feet wide. No trees and no roots littered the ground. I wouldn’t trip in my attempt to defend myself.

  I jumped, somersaulted mid-flight, landed on my shoulder, rolled, and twisted around in a highly ninjaesque move if I do say so myself. I had four years of karate as a kid, and it was finally paying off. I squatted low and waited for the first rat to attack. He obliged, maw wide open, orangish buck teeth exposed, eyes wide with murder and mayhem.

  “I get it! Go away!” I shouted as the rat came within range. I swung with all my might and made contact. The rat flew a good fifteen feet and rolled to a stop, motionless.

  I moaned at the incessant notifications. “Nag.”

  I didn’t see the second rat. I was positive there had been two.

  Where was he?

  Another banner, blurry and distant, floated by the reeds I had jumped, hovering over the assassin.

  “Come on, then,” I challenged. “Come and get it!”

  The rodent of unusual size moved slowly from the reeds, growling, scheming its best course of attack. It dashed at me in a blur at impossible speed. At the last second, I tried to reach out and catch it with my hands, but I missed, and it landed on my shoulder with a quick chomp to my lat.

  “Oh God! Get off me!!” I screamed as all three inches of those teeth sunk deep into my shoulder. Searing pain shot up my neck, and I started seeing red. I punched with one hand while holding the scruff of its neck with the other. My punches seemed to do minor damage and made the beast bite down harder. I tried to pry its mouth open, but I couldn’t manage any leverage. I needed a proper weapon.

  My tactical mind went to work again. I rolled over, grabbed the rat by the head with both hands, stood up, then fell back to the ground in an awkward body slam, hoping my weight would cause enough pain to make it let go. I felt and heard a gasp escape the creepy mouth and reacted. I stood and scrambled to find that stick. Finding it, I went back over to the rat, now struggling to regain its senses, and played whack-a-mole on its head.

  Stolen story; please report.

  I stood over the dead creature, panting, bleeding, head spinning.

  What the hell is going on?!

  “AAAAAAgggghhhhhhh!” I screamed into the sky, part rage, part frustration fueling my cry. “DAAAD!! Where the hell are you??”

  I fell to my knees and cried. I came home to rest. I didn’t come back to Louisiana to be thrown into some nightmare. I had enough nightmares every night! My crew dying while I survived. Being blown up in Afghanistan. Losing friends. Watching bombs blow men into pieces. Giving orders only to get someone killed. Killing men who were trying to kill me.

  I crawled my way over to one of the thousands of bayou puddles available. The water was stagnant and smelly, but I used it anyway to wash off some of the blood, mud, and vomit from my face and hands, and to cool off a little. I ran my wet hands through my hair, cut close to a crop like I had been getting it cut for the last twenty years.

  Feeling relatively safe for the moment, I finally acknowledged the messages I was seeing.

  "Yes."

  “Ooookkkaaayyy,” I said. “Die and resurrected?”

  Yup. I had lost my ever-lovin’ mind. My therapist would be so proud of me for finally admitting that.

  I laughed nervously. "Let's see my options."

  Interesting.

  I had no clue what any of that meant, but I wasn't too sure about being a rat. The next option was a little more promising.

  Except for the hero part this class or lineage sounded more like me. The next option didn't' match my personality at all.

  Yeah. I'm not a fan of this one.

  The next one intrigued me, but I didn't know anything about magic or voodoo.

  I wasn't sure if it was the magic that turned me away, or the weakness, but I passed on that lineage. The next one really caught my attention.

  I scanned through all of them again, slower this time, weighing each option with real-world consequences in mind. Some came with immediate perks, while others hinted at long-term potential. I felt the same way I did when I had to choose whether to retire or re-enlist in the Army. I knew my choice was final then, and it would be final now. I would have to choose a lineage, and my choice could potentially affect my entire life. Maybe I’d learn new skills down the line. In old games, I remembered I could even purchase skills and abilities. At this stage, I was oblivious to the meaning behind most of the abilities and how I would use them.

  I had to make a choice and get these boxes out of my point of view so I could get out of this retched swamp, get help, and find my dad. I narrowed my choices to either Basin Hero or Cajun Navy, then I decided to go with what I already knew best: strength and weapons.

  “Basin hero!” I shouted to whoever was responsible for this crazy situation I found myself in.

  “Yes!”

  The twisting knot in my gut intensified right up until the surge washed over me. Pure energy flowed through me. Warmth radiated through my arms and chest and raced up my spine, unraveling all tension, revitalizing all cells, and reassembling at a molecular level. A humming weightlessness filled my body. The world melted away as if I was floating miles above the planet.