I didn't die saving a kid from a truck.
I didn't die from some rare heart disease while looking at a sunset.
I died because of a wet floor sign. Or rather, the lack of one.
I was an Otaku back on the original Earth. Not the cool kind you see in anime who's secretly a martial arts master.
I was the kind who spent too much money on limited edition DC figurines and stayed up until 3 AM arguing on forums about why the new "Absolute" line was basically a horror manga disguised as a comic book.
I was walking out of a convenience store with a bag of chips and a new volume of Absolute Batman when I saw him.
The guy was wearing a grey jumpsuit that looked like it hadn't been washed since the nineties. His name tag just said "ROJ."
He was mopping the floor, but the water in his bucket was glowing a weird, sickly neon purple.
"Watch it, kid," he mumbled. He didn't even look up.
I stepped right into a puddle that shouldn't have been there. My foot didn't hit the linoleum. It kept going.
I felt a stomach-flipping drop, like the elevator cable snapped, and then everything went white.
"Look, technically, it's a clerical error," a voice said. It sounded like a chain-smoker trying to talk through a megaphone.
I opened my eyes and immediately wanted to close them again. I was floating in a white void.
There was trash everywhere. Used soda cans, floating bits of nebula, and half-eaten sandwiches that looked like they'd been there for a billion years.
Sitting on a crate of "Cosmic Bleach" was the janitor from the store.
"You killed me," I said. My voice sounded weirdly hollow. "I tripped on your mop and died."
"I prefer the term 'involuntary relocation,'" ROJ said, leaning on his mop handle. He looked exhausted. Like, soul-deep tired.
"Space-time is a mess, kid. It's like a giant house that nobody ever cleans. I'm the Random Omnipotent Janitor. I'm supposed to keep the Multiverse from clogging up with 'filth,' but honestly? I'm lazy. I missed a spot in that 7-Eleven. You fell through a hole in reality."
"Fix it then!" I shouted. "Send me back! My pre-orders are arriving on Friday!"
ROJ sighed, and the sound literally shook the void.
"Can't do it. Your old body is currently a pancake on a sidewalk. But, I got a deal for you. I'm behind on my quota. The DC Multiverse is currently infested with 'Absolute' versions of people. They're darker, meaner, and way more disgusting than the originals. They're filth. I need a subordinate to go down there and scrub the place clean. You do the dirty work, I give you a second life. Deal?"
I looked at him. He didn't look like a god. He looked like a guy who wanted a nap.
"What's in it for me? I'm just a guy who reads manga."
"I'll give you a System," he said, waving a hand. A massive, rusty carnival wheel appeared out of thin air. It looked like it was held together by duct tape and prayers.
"And some starter gear. Spin the wheel, get an identity and a power. Then get to work. Don't make me come down there and mop you up too."
I walked up to the wheel. It was covered in labels. I saw things like 'Kryptonian,' 'Amazonian,' and 'Speedster.'
I grabbed the edge and gave it a hard shove. The wheel screeched, sparks flying everywhere.
It slowed down, clicking past the good stuff. It skipped 'Batman's Protégé.' It skipped 'Green Lantern.'
It landed on a slot that looked like it was made of dried blood and shadows.
[DING! IDENTITY SELECTED: THE BASTARD SON OF GRIMM]
My heart stopped. Jack Grimm. In the Absolute Universe, that was the Joker.
But he wasn't a clown. He was a trillionaire monster who controlled Gotham like a personal playground.
He was a horror-movie entity that ate people to stay young. And I was his discarded kid? The one he didn't even know existed?
"Oof," ROJ winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Grimm, huh? He's a real piece of filth. You're gonna have a fun time with that family reunion. Spin for your tool, kid. You're gonna need it."
I spun again. The wheel turned into a blur of black ink.
When it stopped, it hit a symbol I recognized from my comics. It was the mark of the Black Hand, the symbol of death.
[DING! CURSE SELECTED: THE ABSOLUTE BLACK HAND OF JORDAN]
"The Hal Jordan curse?" I whispered. "That thing is supposed to eat everything it touches."
"Yeah, well, consider it a cosmic vacuum cleaner," ROJ shrugged.
He walked over and kicked me square in the chest.
"Go on. Start cleaning. And don't bother calling me unless the universe is literally imploding. I'm taking a break."
I woke up face-down in something that smelled like a mixture of dead fish and chemical waste.
I groaned, pushing myself up. My body felt different.
I was thinner, wiry, but there was a strange, buzzing energy under my skin.
I looked at my hands. My right hand was a nightmare.
It was pitch black, oily, and seemed to smoke with dark energy.
It felt hungry. Not like "I missed lunch" hungry, but like it wanted to swallow the world.
Think human, I told myself, panicking. Look human!
The blackness receded, fading into pale, normal-looking skin. But I could still feel it lurking under the surface, a void waiting to be let out.
A blue screen flickered in my vision. It looked like a cheap RPG menu from a mobile game.
[System Initialized...]
[Host: Jack (Last Name Unknown)]
[Title: The Better Filth]
[Unique Ability: Stacked Consumption (Passive)]
[Effect: Devour a target to gain 50% of their Power, Ability, and Skill. Can be stacked infinitely.]
I was in an alleyway in Gotham. It was raining—not normal rain, but the kind of greasy, grey drizzle that never seems to wash anything away.
This was the Absolute Gotham. The towers were too tall, the shadows were too deep, and the people... well, the people were the problem.
"Hey, look at this little rat," a voice growled.
I looked up. Three guys were standing at the end of the alley.
They were wearing jackets with the 'JK Holdings' logo—my "father's" company.
They looked like they'd been modified. One of them had skin that looked like cracked stone, and another had teeth that were way too long for his mouth.
They were dragging a body towards a dumpster.
"You saw something you shouldn't have, kid," the lead guy said. He pulled out a knife that looked like it was made of jagged glass.
"Mr. Grimm doesn't like witnesses."
Normally, I would have begged for my life. I would have run.
But the "Hunger" hit me like a physical punch to the gut.
My stomach didn't just growl; it roared.
My bones started to snap and reform, growing at an impossible rate.
My skin turned a sickly, pale white and my jaw unhinged, teeth sharpening into jagged needles.
In seconds, I wasn't a teenager anymore. I was a 15-foot-tall biological nightmare, a monstrous version of the Absolute Joker.
My right hand, still wreathed in the Black Hand's void, reached out and crushed the stone-skinned thug's head like a grape.
I didn't just kill him. The System screamed with a primitive, base instinct.
[CONSUMPTION MODE ACTIVE]
I grabbed the body and began to eat.
It was raw, metallic, and disgusting, but as the flesh hit my tongue, I felt a rush of power that made my old life feel like a dream.
Every bite made me stronger.
[Ding! Target Consumed. Gained: 50% Stone Skin Durability. Gained: 50% Thug Combat Proficiency.]
The other two tried to scream, but I was already looming over them, my shadow swallowing the alley.
This wasn't a comic book anymore. This was a buffet.