Author's Note-
Hey everyone,
Here is a heads up about this piece - I wrote this on a whim while I was playing through Valmar's CYOA. Nothing too planned or polished, just something that came to me in the moment.
Whether this turns into a full series or stays a one-off really depends on you. If you liked it (or didn't), I'd love to hear why. What grabbed you? What didn't land? What do you want more of?
Feedback is the fuel here. So drop a comment, even if it's just a quick thought.
Thanks for giving it a shot.
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Jay had always thought his name was a joke. "Victory" in Sanskrit - his mother's hopeful choice for a son she believed would conquer the world. Instead, at twenty-five, Jay felt like he was drowning in the fluorescent-lit hell of Metropolitan General Hospital, working as a nurse practitioner in the emergency department.
It was 11:47 PM on a Tuesday, and Jay was mechanically updating patient charts, his mind elsewhere. Another sixteen-hour shift, another day of watching people at their worst moments while he felt dead inside. The attending physicians treated him like furniture, patients screamed at him for things beyond his control, and the hospital administration squeezed every ounce of productivity from his soul while paying him barely enough to service his student loans.
This wasn't the life he'd imagined. Hell, this wasn't living at all it was just existing, going through the motions of a life someone else had planned for him. His mother called every week, her voice bright with questions about when he'd find a nice girl, when he'd buy a house, when he'd give her grandchildren. The same script, the same expectations, the same suffocating path everyone assumed he'd follow.
Jay stared at the computer screen, cursor blinking in the notes field, and wondered what it would feel like to just... disappear. Not die, exactly, but vanish from this predetermined life and start over somewhere else, as someone else. Someone free to make their own choices.
The layout felt weirdly familiar. Like a half-remembered dream or a Reddit thread he'd read during a night shift. Those "what would you do if you could start over" posts that always made him scroll faster, pretending he wasn't mentally cataloging every escape fantasy.
The trauma alert shattered his daydream. Multi-vehicle accident on I-95, multiple casualties inbound. Jay sighed and pushed back from the computer. More broken bodies to catalog, more families to give devastating news to, more evidence that life was just a series of random tragedies punctuated by brief moments of false hope.
The first ambulance brought a screaming teenager with a compound fracture. Jay went through the motions - triage assessment, vitals, prep for the trauma team. His hands worked automatically while his mind wandered to a fantasy where he was somewhere tropical, no pager, no schedules, no one expecting anything from him except what he chose to give.
The second ambulance carried an elderly man in cardiac arrest. Jay watched the trauma team work for forty-seven minutes before calling it. Another family destroyed, another reminder of how fragile and meaningless everything really was. At least the old man was free now - free from pain, free from expectations, free from disappointing anyone ever again.
"Where's the third bus?" Dr. Martinez called out. "Dispatch said they were two minutes behind."
That's when they heard it - the screech of tires, followed by the sickening crash of metal meeting metal. Through the hospital's glass doors, Jay could see the intersection outside. An ambulance, lights flashing, had been T-boned by a drunk driver who'd blown through the red light.
For a moment, Jay just stood there. He was tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired of caring about things that didn't matter, of following protocols that served the hospital more than the patients, of being a cog in a machine that ground people up and spit them out. What was the point of running out there? More casualties, more paperwork, more of the same endless cycle.
But then he thought about the EMTs in that ambulance - people probably as trapped and miserable as he was, just trying to get through another shift. Maybe they had families waiting at home, maybe they still believed their work mattered. Maybe they deserved a chance to find their own freedom, even if he'd given up on finding his.
Besides, what did he have to lose? His crushing debt? His soul-killing job? His predetermined life that felt more like a prison sentence?
Jay ran toward the crash, and for the first time in months, he felt something like clarity. This was it - his moment to break free from the script, to do something that wasn't expected or required or part of someone else's plan for his life.
He was halfway across the intersection when the ambulance's oxygen tank exploded.
Jay's last thought wasn't about heroism or sacrifice - it was about how ironic it was that dying might be the freest he'd ever felt.
When consciousness returned, Jay found himself in what looked like the afterlife's customer service department. Everything was pristine white except for a single desk with two chairs, one occupied by someone who looked remarkably like a middle manager with infinite patience.
"Well, hello there!" the figure said cheerfully. "I'm XYZ - not my real name, obviously. My actual designation is about forty-seven syllables long and includes sounds that would make your vocal cords file a restraining order. ROB - that's my boss, the Random Omnipotent Being - suggested I pick something simple. I went with XYZ because I'm always the last stop before someone's next adventure begins."
Jay blinked slowly. "I'm dead."
"Very much so! Oxygen tank explosion. Quick and painless, if that helps. You were running to help the ambulance crew, by the way - they all survived thanks to you drawing attention away from them." XYZ shuffled through some paperwork. "Interesting case, yours. Most people in your situation focus on the heroic aspect. You seemed more focused on... escaping?"
Jay laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "Escaping, helping - what's the difference? Either way, I'm out of that life."
"Ah, but that's exactly why you're here!" XYZ's eyes lit up. "Your case caught ROB's attention because of that desire for freedom. A young man named 'victory' who felt utterly defeated by the constraints of his predetermined life, yet still chose to break free in his final moment. ROB was quite moved."
"Moved enough to do what?"
XYZ leaned forward conspiratorially. "To offer you something extraordinarily rare: a genuine second chance. Not just at life, but at living. True freedom to choose your own path, define your own destiny, become whoever you want to be."
Despite his cynicism, Jay felt a spark of interest. "What's the catch?"
"No catch, just choices. ROB is offering you entry into a new world through what he calls a CYOA system - Choose Your Own Adventure. Think of it as cosmic character creation, where every choice is yours to make." XYZ produced an advanced tablet from thin air. "This particular system was designed by someone called Valmar, and ROB was quite impressed with their work."
The tablet's screen displayed several world options, but one glowed brighter than the others: [A Marvelous world of unlimited potential, where power equals freedom and heroes forge their own destinies.]
"The Marvel universe?" Jay's eyebrows rose.
"Not just any version - one where all properties coexist. A world where someone with your intelligence and... creative interpretation of rules... could carve out their own kingdom of personal freedom." XYZ slid the tablet across. "Think about it, Jay. No student loans. No soul-crushing job. No predetermined path. Just you, unlimited potential, and the power to live exactly as you choose."
Jay picked up the device, feeling its weight.
"I could really do anything?"
"Within the bounds of your choices, absolutely. Want to be a hero? Your choice. Want to be something else entirely? Also, your choice. Want to build a personal paradise and tell the world to leave you alone? Completely your choice." XYZ's smile was knowing. "The only person who gets to decide how you live this new life is you."
Jay thought about his mother, probably still planning his life from what felt like trillions of miles away, still expecting him to follow the script she'd written in her head. The thought should have made him sad, but instead, he felt... relief. She'd never have to be disappointed by his choices again.
"Will I remember this life?"
"That depends on what you choose," XYZ said gently. "Some paths preserve memory; others offer different gifts. But the core of who you are - that desire for absolute freedom, that refusal to be trapped by others' expectations - that stays with you."
Jay looked at the categories on screen: INSERTION, DRAWBACKS, PERKS, POWERS. Each one represented a choice that would be entirely his own, with no one to please but himself.
"You know what the best part is?" XYZ added. "Whatever you choose, whatever you become, you'll never have to explain yourself to anyone ever again. True freedom means never having to justify your choices to people who don't understand them."
For the first time in years, Jay smiled - really smiled. "When do I start?"
XYZ leaned back with satisfaction. "Take your time. Eternity isn't going anywhere. And remember - this is your chance to finally live completely free. Make it count."
Jay pressed 'BEGIN' without hesitation.
The interface came alive with possibilities. At the top, a message appeared:
[Welcome to your new life, Jay. In this world, victory isn't about meeting expectations - it's about exceeding your own. Your choices will determine not just your power, but your freedom. Choose selfishly. Choose boldly. Choose for yourself.
The only person you need to satisfy is you.]
As Jay began scrolling through options with genuine excitement for the first time in years, XYZ leaned back with satisfaction. This one was going to be interesting. After all, the most dangerous kind of person was someone who had nothing left to lose and everything to gain.
The game and Jay's new life were about to begin.