Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, or anything thing from Fire Emblem. I also don't own Buell or George Furman for that matter.

Chapter 1: It's a good day to die

I grew up all my life being called Neil, though it isn't my first name... I just preferred going by my middle name.

I used to hate my first name. Not anymore, but still...

My name's Neil, and for some damn reason I had the bright idea to try to get up at 6 am and actually get something accomplished at this godforsaken hour in the morning. So, after clumsily getting out of bed, throwing on some random gym shorts and a muscle tee, I proceed with my 3 orders of business for the morning.

Number 1 being a LOT of freaking cold water to my face. Wash, rinse, repeat. Times 3.

Number 2, angus burgers. 2 of 'em actually. Cooked on the world-renowned George Furman grillin' machine. Yeah, burgers for breakfast. Don't judge me. At least not until you've had one, friggin' OM NOM NOM!

Errr, I need to save the freaking out for later, 6 am is just too damn early.

Third order of business... well... I didn't plan that far ahead. But hey, I'm on a roll right now, so I walk over to the sound system, kick on some power metal and start working out. Only a few days ago I started a workout program that would (hopefully) jump my base amount of pull-ups to 50 straight. Yeah. 50. Back to back. It was gonna roughly take 7 weeks. And the first 2 days were brutal. Today is no exception, I struggle to get my last pull up down on my iron gym hanging from my door. Letting my biceps rest after that, I made myself a cup of water, downed it, and proceeded to finish the push-ups and plyometrics that became a part of my daily routine.

I don't consider myself built in anyway, in fact, I think I'm relatively weak, but I was definitely well toned, the muscles I worked had some definition to them, though my 6 pack stomach was a lil lacking. Oh well, all in good time. But what really made my body work effectively was my size. Topping off (barely) at an unimpressive 5 foot 4, and clocking in at (once again, barely) 120 pounds, I didn't bother with strength. Calisthenics, that is working out with only your own body weight, was perfect for me. That was my favorite training for parkour.

Heh, I don't like to brag, but I suppose I have acquired a decent bit of talent in parkour over the past couple years... that is to say, I'm hella adept at getting from point A to point B using my body and the environment around me.

And being done with that... I plopped down in front of my computer and...

Dammit... facebook. I REALLY need to lay off it. Its a virus that eats my soul. When I next checked the clock, it read 9 o'clock.

But hey! 9 am means the weather's warming up for some bike riding! 5 minutes of switching into some motorcycle-specific Kevlar jeans, a leather jacket, steel-tipped boots, full-faced helmet, summer riding gloves... what else did I miss... oh yeah, "keys!" I said, to no one in particular. Nobody was home and all. I grabbed them off the counter and made my to the garage, locking the house door behind in case my dad gets off work before I finish riding. He runs the graveyard shift every night, it sucks. I feel pretty bad for him. Anywho, I digress, I have a motorcycle to ride.

Adding up to a massive 900cc worth of power, my stallion in the modern world is Buell's very own Firebolt XB9R. I loved it. And not only that, but it was a beautiful summer morning. Little cloud cover, mild winds, the temperature just right. Truly, a perfect day to ride!

And unfortunately, completely unbeknown to me, this was going to be my final ride. And believe me, I'm trying really hard to fit in a Ghostrider reference in here somewhere... No flaming motorcycle, horse, or rider though.

I'll skip the next 45 minutes and get to the point here, I was riding down a fun back road which was too small for a yellow median, and as I made a left turn around some trees I couldn't see around, some damn redneck's truck was making the turn swinging wide around it. And, being on a crotch rocket, I was making the turn really quick and laying the bike almost parallel to the road, because that's how you ride my bike...

Except I crash head-on into the damn truck... Fucking redneck trucks, with wheels the size of me, and the chassis lifted some 7 feet off the ground, and friggin' front bumpers made of steel and... Yeah. Needless to say, me and my beloved Firebolt got demolished.

And my death was a really quick, albeit a painful one. I was still alive while I flew through the air, and ever after I slammed onto the ground. A split second later, my bike landed and slid in front of me about 10 feet away. The sight of the bike hurt me more than the pain did... no I take that back, I was in a lot of effing pain. And then I was dead.

Author's Note: So, welcome to my first fan fiction! Oh god, I'm writing a fan fiction O_o

Initial shock aside, I thought I'd provide a few heads-up about the story I'll be writing. It's definitely a self insert with me being inserted into the Fire Emblem Path of Radiance game. I'm going to stay very loosely canon to the game, and keep myself as... me as I can... keep... me? Yeah, something like that. Not that any of y'all might know me or my personality at all. The only thing about this story me and real like me is that story me has never touched a Fire Emblem game before. And for that matter, never used Ike in SSB:B either.

Yeah, so, you'll find out where in Tellius I am in the next chapter, hope you liked the first chapter!