Chapter One: The Price of Heroism
Pain.
That was the first thing I felt—raw, white-hot, blinding pain that throbbed through every nerve like fire in my veins. My body was a mess of torn muscle and shattered bone, collapsed on the concrete floor of a high-rise parking structure, soaked in blood and rain. Sirens wailed distantly, drowned beneath the echo of footsteps and laughter.
My hands twitched. Broken fingers. Cracked ribs. One eye swollen shut.
I was dying. And it wasn't even the worst part.
Not yet.
Across from me, standing beside the man who had run a serrated blade across my abdomen just minutes ago, was Leah. Her hair was still wet from the rain, clinging to her face in strands. She looked beautiful in that detached, wicked way—like a statue carved from ice.
And then she kissed him.
The man who had killed me. The one who had made me watch as his goons gutted my best friend, snapped my knee with a crowbar, and laughed while I begged for her life.
I wasn't supposed to die like this.
I wasn't a hero. I was just some guy. A guy who had spent too many nights curled up with superhero comics and rewatching Arrow and Flash while the world spun on without him. A guy who found a reason to live when Leah smiled at him during an empty philosophy class. A guy who thought love meant something. Who thought that protecting her, saving her, would make up for all the times he hadn't protected himself.
But all I had done was play right into her hands.
"You were always sweet," she said softly, crouching down next to me as I coughed blood onto my own shirt. "Too sweet. That's what made you so easy."
My vision blurred.
I think I whispered her name.
Then everything went black.
---
Silence.
No pain. No sound. No time. Just... nothing.
At first, I thought this was death.
Then a voice cut through the void, cheerful and far too casual.
"Well... that was messy."
I opened my eyes—though I didn't remember doing it—and found myself floating in an endless white space, like standing in the middle of a fog that stretched on forever. There was no sky, no floor, but I wasn't falling. I was just... suspended.
Before me stood a man.
Mid-thirties, maybe. Tan skin, sharp eyes. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops, and holding a coconut drink with a ridiculous umbrella sticking out of it.
"W-what the hell...?" I croaked.
He grinned. "No, not Hell. You avoided that one. Barely. You humans and your melodrama. Always thinking the universe owes you something."
"Who are you?"
"Ah, right. Names. Call me ROB. Stands for Random Omnipotent Being. Or Rob. Whichever. Honestly, I forget what I originally called myself eons ago. Now, let's talk about you, shall we?"
I stared, not sure if I was hallucinating.
"You died," he continued. "Brutally. Backstabbed by the woman you loved. All very Greek tragedy. The gods would be proud."
"Why am I here?" I asked, voice shaking.
He gave me a lazy shrug and took a sip from the coconut. "Because I like you."
My blood froze.
"What?"
"You. I like you. You're... interesting. You died like an idiot, but you died trying to do something right. Something noble. And that's so rare these days. Most people die screaming, or bitter, or hiding behind excuses. You faced it head-on."
I didn't respond. My throat ached. My soul ached.
He leaned in. "So, I'm going to give you a gift."
I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"
"Because I'm bored," he said bluntly. "And because you amuse me. And because somewhere in the multiverse, there's a version of you that could have been something more. A warrior. A hero. A legend."
The space around us shimmered. Screens appeared in the air—dozens of them—each playing clips from TV shows, movies, battles, cities in ruin. One screen showed Oliver Queen drawing his bow. Another showed Barry Allen racing through lightning.
My breath caught.
"Wait… is that—?"
"Welcome to your new world," ROB said. "The Arrowverse. CW's charming little sandbox. But make no mistake—this place is real now. Very real. People die. Cities fall. The end of the world happens weekly."
I felt a pull in my gut. Something stirring inside me.
"And you," he said, tapping my chest with a glowing finger, "are going to be dropped in the middle of it. As a baby. Born into wealth, privilege, and pain. But not powerless."
A ding echoed.
> SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE.
Initializing: Power Download Interface (Alpha 0.01.01)
Welcome, User.
Skill Replication Protocol: ONLINE
Level: 1 — Ability: Download latent skills, powers, and talents through observation. Speed and depth depend on user level.
Growth tied to: Combat, Experience, Risk, and Choice.
Quest Chain [Divergence]: Unlocked.
"What... is this?" I whispered, watching the glowing text in the void.
"A system," ROB said. "Gamified, because I figured your gamer brain could handle it. You'll start weak. It'll be slow. But keep fighting, and you'll be able to download powers, skills, combat styles—even languages."
"And if I don't fight?"
"You'll die. Horribly." He beamed. "Fun, right?"
I didn't answer.
"You won't remember me," he said casually. "But you'll remember everything else. Your old life. Your death. Your betrayal. And the world you're entering."
He raised his hand.
"One last thing. Change too much too fast, and the world might break. Change nothing, and it'll break you. The choice is yours, hero."
---
Warmth.
Soft, muffled warmth.
For a moment, I thought I was back in bed. Then I realized I couldn't move my limbs. My vision was blurry. Everything was too big. The air smelled of antiseptic and flowers.
A woman's voice cooed above me.
"She's perfect," she whispered.
She?
No. He.
They corrected themselves. "He's perfect. My little miracle."
Hands wrapped around me. Soft, trembling hands. A nurse said something about "Mr. and Mrs. Stone's baby boy." The name echoed through my head like a gunshot.
Stone.
That was my name now.
I couldn't talk. I couldn't walk.
But I could think.
And I could remember everything.
The betrayal. The blood. The kiss.
And then—Oliver Queen. The island. Slade Wilson. Sara. Deathstroke. The League. Zoom. The Crisis.
This world was a firestorm. A beautiful, fragile, violent narrative destined to collapse.
But not if I could help it.
> System Notification:
Welcome, [Stone, First Name: TBD].
World Anchor Point: Starling City, 2006.
Primary Timeline: Divergence Possible.
Early Mission: Survive Childhood. Prepare for the Queen's Gambit.
---
I closed my eyes, and for the first time since that rooftop, I smiled.
Let them call this a second chance.
I would call it a reckoning.
---
[End of Chapter One]
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A/N: Join my patreon for advanced chaps.
This is a trial FanFic. This is a self insert so don't expect every thing to be same as the series. The age could differ of the characters. So read it, enjoy it as an art. And stop criticizing every thing