Yo! Welcome to Lazarus! This is the rewrite of A Man Can Die But Once I promised, so here you go! Yes, it's gonna be pretty similar to AMCDBO in the beginning, but I assure you, you'll see the differences soon enough, and hopefully for the better!

Enjoy!

I died.

That's a strange thing to say, now, isn't it?

You may be wondering how I'm still able to talk to you. Hmm… to be honest, I don't really know either.

I was a really good person, if I do say so myself. You're probably wondering what that has to do with anything, but don't worry, I have a point. I promise that I'll get to it eventually.

I am a good person. My short, abrupt life wasn't the very best. I was orphaned before I was old enough to remember my parents and landed up in a small orphanage. It really was small, I'm not exaggerating. There was literally only three rooms, one for the boys, the girls and the matron and all of us had to share a bathroom.

You have absolutely no idea how early I had to get up in the morning if I wanted to shower alone. And hot water? Maybe about twice a month, if I got lucky.

But I didn't complain. I knew that I was lucky to get into the orphanage where there was a semblance of order and stability instead of getting tossed into the foster care system and being forgotten about. Even if no one wanted to adopt me up until I was old enough to gain custody of myself after I turned 18.

Yeah, I'll admit it, it kinda sucked to see some of the other kids getting adopted into nice, loving families, but after years of wishing and hoping, I just kinda accepted it and moved on. I focused on other more important things.

Our orphanage was lucky enough to have a fund to send all of the kids into the city's public school, and I grasped that opportunity with greedy hands. I studied and worked, I helped out Mother Tina, the orphanage's Matron, I tutored the other orphans and worked part time and volunteered for the community in hopes that someone would care enough to give me a good recommendation to get into college. Any college. Just so that I could have a chance at life.

And what do you know? I graduated Salutatorian of my class and got into the local Community College in our city. I was all set to attend when I got a very special letter in the mail.

Mother Tina, that wily old nun, along with some of the other orphans I had grown up with, had saved enough money to apply to three Ivy League schools under my name. And I got into all of them.

I received acceptance into Harvard, Yale and Colombia Universities.

Honestly? I thought it was a prank.

It took a week of reassurance, two shouting matches and a phone call to a very irate university helpline worker to convince me.

Of course I was happy. Who wouldn't be? Everyone had done so much for me. So when they asked me where I wanted to attend, I decided to go to Colombia, so that I could stay in New York. I didn't want to leave the guys at St. Eisen's just yet.

And so I attended Colombia and graduated with a kickass Business Degree. Hells yeah.

Of course, I got stuck with massive student loans, but hey, now that I'm dead, I don't have to pay those bitches back anything. Haha, suckers. Fucking Ivy League schools and their fucking insane tuition. Serves them right.

So yeah. I got my degree and stuff, but just as I was about to go on the job market and make the big bucks, I got a letter from my old orphanage telling me that dear old Mother Tina, the darling woman who was the closest thing to a mother I had, was on her deathbed.

And so, being the good person that I was, I went down to see her.

And then she asked me to run the orphanage in her place.

Fuck it, but I couldn't really say no.

So after Mother Tina passed away, I gave up on my dream job of working on Wall Street and took over St. Eisen's Orphanage. A shame, too. I could have been a legendary businesswoman, taking names and kicking entitled, sexist ass. Ah, well. That's life, I guess.

But regardless of my situation and looming debt, I loved all the kids unconditionally. They were all so sweet and innocent and it wasn't their fault that they got the short end of the stick. I looked into their little faces and saw more than once the bitterness that I myself had felt when looking at other children with their perfect, happy families. The fall of their expressions whenever a young couple came in to meet the kids, but never left with any of them. Their envious stares whenever other kids' parents picked them up from school. No matter how much they tried to hide it, I still saw it.

So we made our own family there, at St. Eisen's.

I damn well made sure that all of them knew that they were loved, even if they didn't have parents like the other kids. I made it clear to them that just because they had nothing right now did not mean that it had to stay that way forever. If they shed enough blood, sweat and tears, just as I did, they could walk out with a shiny college degree into a new world. I told them that even if nobody came to save them, it didn't mean that all hope was lost. They still had the power to save themselves.

And just like that, a few years passed. Kids got older and I even saw the three oldest graduate high school and get accepted into colleges. All of them heeded my words and worked hard, putting double the time and effort to be noticed and recognized, and yet always had the time for the younger kids in the orphanage.

Honestly? I was damn proud of them. I watched these little runts claw their way up to victory, and it was satisfying.

But you're probably wondering, if life was so perfect, then how did it all come crashing down?

Well, my friend, it was on a chilly September morning that it happened.

A fire.

The rickety, old orphanage caught on fire. I have to admit, I'm not sure exactly where and how it started, but within minutes the entire building was up in flames. Like, Balrog flames, complete with horns and fiery whip.

Coughing and wheezing, I had stumbled into the children's' rooms where the panicking brats were just running around like headless chickens. Understandable, but not what I wanted at the moment. Panic isn't very good for orderly evacuation.

Over the crackle of the flames, I could thankfully hear the wails of sirens outside. Thank god. There was at least one pro about living in overpopulated, ghetto Queens.

We tried to get out through the front door, but the shitty old building was crumbling fast and the doorframe had collapsed into a pile of blazing rubble.

I was so over this shit. I waded my way through screaming children and punted my foot through the scratched-up window. Immediately, there was a roar as fresh oxygen flowed in and the fire danced with renewed energy.

Fuck. Well, I had to wrap things up, and quickly. I grabbed the nearest sobbing child and YEET-ed him out through the window. I could hear his startled squeal and the surprised shouts of the Firefighters.

After that, it was just an activity of chucking the kids through the window as quickly as possible. Thankfully, after the first five kids or so, they got a lot more cooperative.

Just as there were a handful of kids left, the ceiling splintered and a chunk collapsed worryingly close to us.

Oookay. Time was up. The remainder of the ceiling groaned forebodingly just as I was literally shoving the rest of the kids though the window.

I almost burst into tears of relief when the last one got out. I saw the fireman scoop her up, and he extended his arm towards me, shouting frantically.

But before I could even reach back, a horrifying crack rang through the crackle of flames and the building fell on top of me like a house of cards.

And so I died a gruesome death.

The end.

Or so I thought.

Many religions have different beliefs on what happens after death, but I was hella surprised when, instead of being buried under a fuck-ton of rubble, I found myself standing in front of a man alternating between being horrifyingly skeletal and damn sexy riding a boat.

"Drachma?" He asked.

"What the fuck is that?" I responded.

He sighed wearily and pointed to a large, confused crowd. "Over there. I only do one freebie ride a day, so good luck getting on."

Oh, it was on. I didn't know what the ride was for, or, as a matter of fact, what the FLYING FUCK was happening, but I don't lose. I was gonna get on that boat.

Hour later, he announced that he was boarding for the free ride. Somehow, with a combination of guts, pointy elbows and climbing over unsuspecting people, I scrambled onto the boat. Hells yeah.

From there it was just a long ride down a black, tar-like river. In it, I saw some weird things. I saw My Blanket. Wow. I have to admit, I kinda, forgot about that. It was the only relic I had left from my parents. I remember countless nights with it, imagining what my parents would have looked like and what kind of family we would be.

And over there, floating in the black water some distance away was the little lime-green frock I used to wear whenever a prospective pair of parents came to the orphanage in hopes that they would find the perfect fit for their family. I outgrew that thing years ago, just like I outgrew my dream of being adopted.

And… oh my god. Is that…? So close I could have reached down and picked it up, if I wanted to, was my college diploma from Columbia University. In all its professional parchment glory it just bobbed up and down in the water. I felt a heavy lump in my throat. Boy, did that bring up old memories. The bitter seed of disappointment bloomed in my chest, as it always did whenever I saw it. And, as always, I swallowed it down. No matter how much it stung, I wouldn't sacrifice those kids at St. Eisen's orphanage for nothing.

But seriously. How did my diploma end up in this gooey-ass river? Shouldn't it be, I dunno, a pile of ashes back at the orphanage?

I looked up and gaped at the sight in front of me. It appeared as though I wasn't the only one who saw some weird things in the black river. Some of the other passengers were screaming at the serene boatman to stop, and some were jostling other people to run down the side of the boat to see whatever-it-is-they're-seeing better.

But what shocked me most of all was that some people were climbing off the boat and diving into the murky black water. I heard their screams of agony and watched as their flesh literally oozed off their bones, revealing gleaming, bleached skeletons, before those too were dissolved in the black water.

Yikes. Alright, message received. Stay away from nasty acid water and leave probably-fake diploma alone.

Soon, we arrived at the other side and were ushered out in a single-file line by shady-looking men. And by that, I mean that they looked shadowy and ghost-like, almost translucent.

And then I waited. I honestly don't know how long I waited, my internal clock was deader than Sirius Black. It could have been a few moments or I could have waited until the dawn of a new civilization, I honestly don't know how long I waited.

Then suddenly, I found myself standing in front of a court-like scene. There were three guys with black robes and gold masks that stared me down.

"Um, hi?"

They ignored me, and the next thing I knew, random memories of my life, things I hadn't even thought about in years, popped up to the forefront of my mind. The masked guys just hummed, bored.

"Orphaned at a young age. Worked hard ever since," the first judge stated.

The second judge shook his head. "She was a bully. Every day at school, she took money from other people, or stole it."

"She did it so that she and the other orphans could eat at least two full meals a day. It was circumstance, not desire," the third judge argued.

The first judge nodded. "Yes, see? She gave up on her dreams to take care of the children."

The third judge agreed. "And, she gave up her life for them."

The second judge huffed. "So be it. She is fit for Elysium, even if her personality has much to be desired."

I was offended. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean? Come down here and saw that to my face, moron!"

As I was carted away by the shady guards, I saw the second judge look towards the others as if to say, 'See what I mean?' Jerk.

Things went blurry as we walked, and the next thing I know, I was standing in front of a pleasant two-story house. I looked to my right and there was a Chinese-style house with a pleasantly waving Asian neighbor watering his gold and silver flowers. On my left was a roman-style house, and a handsome young man in a toga-like-thing smirked and saluted me with a glass of wine.

I looked back at the cookie-cutter house in front of me and shrugged. I entered the house.

I have to be completely frank with you. Life after death sucks.

I mean, of course, it wasn't so bad, I mean I wasn't on the Fields of Punishment or anything, but by God, it was mundane.

There was literally nothing to do except sit around and drink Mocha Lattes. There was no form of entertainment, no TV, no board games, no Wifi, nothing. There was only the other people good enough to get into Elysium to talk to.

And, there was a weekly public screening of The Godfather, but I swear to god, no matter how much I love and respect that movie, if I have to watch it one more time, I will uproot Mr. Ling's flowers.

Not that I have anything against Mr. Ling. My neighbor is actually a pretty swell guy. Turned out that he's actually a Doctor, and the reason that he ended up in Elysium was because he was in Doctors Without Borders for over 20 years, and the reason he died was because of Cancer. Sweet little man. He's extremely polite and he's absolutely obsessed with his flowers.

On the other hand, my other neighbor, Lucius Caius Vestorius III is much less sweet, but we get along pretty well regardless. Turns out he's the son of a famous Roman Senator and he died in battle. He did a few noble and heroic things here and there, the specifics of which I still don't understand, because he speaks only Latin and my uncultured ass only speaks English, but it was enough to get him a cool eternal bachelor pad in Elysium. Oh, and he's like a two-thousand-year-old frat boy. He loves his wine and giggly dead roman girls. The bastard's really living it up in the afterlife. I think that he is the ideal for frat boys everywhere. This is what they aspire for. Eternal chicks and booze. Poetic.

But yeah, exotic neighbors non-withstanding, I was bored out of my goddamn mind. So after doing a little asking around, I learned that if I wanted to, I could go to the Isle of the Blessed. Like the ultimate party club that ran 24/7.

And you know the best part?

That damn island had all the latest technology from the Realm of the Living. All of the latest books and movies and Wifi and everything.

There wasn't even a hint of hesitation. I was gonna move my ass over to the Isle of the Blessed, ASAP. My brain was dying without any stimulation. I was wasting away. It was pitiful. I need this.

But you see there, the catch was that I had to make it to Elysium thrice in a row.

Like, I had to be reborn, die twice more, and make it to Elysium each time.

Pshhh, piece of cake. If I made to Heaven by being nothing but me, then it would be easy.

Aaaand then they told me that they were going to have to wipe my memories.

I thought about it… and still think that it would be better than sitting on my damn porch again, watching Mr. Ling water his damn flowers. Those damn flowers. I hate those flowers and I hate the fact that Roman architecture was fucking shitty and had no sound insulation, because I could hear all of Lucius' nocturnal activities. Every one of them. I can never escape it.

… I needed to get out of here. So I took the offer.

They took me to the river Lethe and told me to skinny-dip in it. Well, maybe they didn't use those exact words, but you know what I mean.

I waded into the river until I was deep enough for the water to flow around my waist, then I took a deep breath and dunked my head underneath.

I stayed for a long second, then came back up, gasping and wiping the water from my face. I splashed back to the shore where they practically threw towels at me, nobody coming within a ten foot radius of me.

Why the hell…? Oh, right, because they didn't want to be touched by the mystery memory water.

Wait. What?

How did I know that? How did I remember it? Was I allowed to remember stuff like that? Was I allowed to remember that I was a Matron to St. Eisen's orphanage who died in a fire and spent the last month in Elysium?

… No, I don't think so. I think the exact words were, '…complete clean slate, free of recollection of anything that had happened before the moment you exit your new mother's womb.'

Well. Shit. Did the memory water not work on me? Like, what?

But before I could tell anyone about the slight technical difficulty that I was experiencing, I was pushed down to lay flat on an alter-like thing.

"Close your eyes and relax."

I complied, and I must have dozed off at some point because the next thing I know there are bright lights and loud noises and gigantic people.

I had no idea what the shit was going on so I kinda just stared blankly as I waited for everything to click. And that made the people around me panic even more, then a giant person lifted me up and roughly whacked me on my backside.

That was totally uncalled for and I screamed my outrage. That seemed to calm them down, somewhat.

It was a strange, surreal feeling. I tried to move around and ask them some questions but found that I was unable to do so. And then I was easily picked up and handed to another giant.

Except this one was smiling softly and was really pretty. She had pale, creamy skin with dark hair and warm brown eyes. She spoke gently to me in another language that I couldn't really understand, but she kept on repeating one word to me.

Bianca.

Like I said, I wasn't stupid. Using all of the fairly obvious contextual clues around me, I figured that I was now reborn and that my new name was now Bianca.

Bianca. I liked it. I approve. From henceforth, I shall be known as Bianca.

The woman cooed and cuddled my blubbering form closer and rocked me, humming gently. The constant, repetitive motions were enough to make my eyes droop dangerously, but before I could slip into sweet slumber, the rocking stopped and my weak body was shifted around.

The pretty woman smiled serenely down at me as she slipped her shirt down.

Wait. Waaaiiit a minute…

She lifted me towards her chest-

Nonononono!

-and forced my wide, panicked mouth around a nipple.

I can't explain what happened next. Instead of spitting it out or turning away, I started to… suckle from it. It had to have been my primitive baby brain. It was programmed into me.

But that didn't mean that I was unaware of what I was doing.

I just had one thought that could sum up this entire situation:

I really wish that I had told someone about the whole River Lethe glitch thing, because this is just cruel and unusual.

And somehow, I had a feeling that retaining my memories from my previous life was going to lead to much more of the cruel and unusual.

Aaaannnd that's a wrap! Thanks so much for reading!

So yeah, like I said before, this story is a re-write of A Man Can Die But Once, and this time, it's gonna be much better in terms of pacing and development and all that good stuff.

So yeah! Hang in there for more Percy Jackson awesomeness!

Have an awesomesauce day, and until next time!