“Wait a moment. I...What is this about fighting? Who are you even? Why...How...?”

The young man did not know what to make of all this. Suddenly a man had entered asking them things like if they were functioning well or something and that they had to fight. That last part wasn't really a question. He merely expected them to do so. Well he did ask them if they were familiar with it but still. It did not answer any question they might have and only gave room to even more questions. He felt as if he had gone insane and he was now in some hallucination. It was all so absurd and surreal. Perhaps, when he got shot, he didn't die but instead he was in the hospital dreaming some coma induced dream. 

So confused he felt he nearly tripped over his own feet as he took a few steps backwards, his mind racing with flashes of memories. If this would be a fantasy novel, this would be considered the moment where the reader gets to know the protagonist, the hero who would undertake a quest to save the world or some sorts. But that was just the thing. In novels it would be like that but surely not in real life. He looked at his gloved hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. It just felt too real to be some kind of dream though. His last step backwards made him walk against the coffin in which he had woken up in. He dropped his sword which clattered to the ground. It was loud enough to drown out the humming sound.

[i]Fight.[/i]

As he picked up the sword from the ground, he could hear it whisper in his head.

[i]Fight![/i]

The whisper got louder into the voice that was not his. Or was it?
He weighed the sword in his hand, holding the hilt. It felt good. As if he had been born with it as a part of himself.

[i]Fight, Yakeru![/i]

His eyes got drawn to the name engraved on the sword. The name he knew all too well, even better than he knew himself. Yakeru. 

“If your coin matches the risk, I am your man.” He mumbled softly the phrase Yakeru often said in his novels and he chuckled. His entire body language changed in that moment and he inhaled deeply before releasing his breath slowly. The sword got back in the scabbard which he slung on his back. His eyes went from Mackensie to David, who both also seemed to be armed, and the odd man who had entered earlier. If this really was the afterlife as Mackensie had put it and this to be his fate, then he would grab the opportunity with his both hands to be someone he never was or could be before and his name would be Yakeru. 

With a grin he sat down on the edge of the coffin, his arms crossed on his chest. 

Heck, he already was him. 

A sudden movement in the dark made him turn his head and he saw some...thing looking at them. He was surprised he had not noticed it before. [i]So is this afterlife in Hell?[/i]

“Who are you, demon?” He jumped up, cocking an eyebrow as his gaze was locked with the creature.