Young Writers Society

Dealing with the dead all the time can get pretty depressing. Luckily, being a hired Reaper has its benefits: you can get loads of money if you're good at it, you get a ton of healthcare and a paid psychiatrist, you can work quite literally whenever you want, and you get out scott-free of any trouble you might get into while trespassing and doing some other equally illegal things (as long as you can prove it was for the sake of Reaping). I mean, what else will you do with your life? Become a tarot card reader and comfort hysteric family members for the rest of your sorry existence? Yeah, I don't think so. Welcome to the Department of Deceased Services, or the DDS for short.



At some point in your younger life you've might have thought that you were going temporarily color blind, a sensation where the color around you might dull or seep all color out completely. Maybe you had just been nodding off during your history class or you were just walking down the street, and you used to sum it up to the medication you might have been taking or some other strange side effect of something else. What actually was happening was that your Reaping gift was beginning to bloom, and that you were unknowingly entering what the Reaper community has dubbed the Grim.

It is the grey world of the ghosts and monsters, composed of shadow and mist, the living still present but no longer tangible. In the Grim, you can see people still walking down the streets, traffic still rumbling along, but all are completely oblivious to you now.

Ghosts, however, can see you very clearly.

Unlike everything else, you still breathe with life and pigmentation. It is imperative that you enter the Grim in your Grim Shroud. Your Grim Shroud is the impersonation of your spirit, an extension of who you are, that manifests when you slip on your mask. Your mask is something that reveals itself to you when you have fully bloomed as a Reaper, a mask that exists in the living world that calls upon you. It can be anything, from one fit for a masquerade to one as smooth and as blank as white glass. Whatever it looks like, you must wear it before slipping into the Grim. Once in the Grim the mask will transform your appearance to completely veil the fact that you are indeed a living, breathing human being, into something that would far more fit the fairy tales of death.

It is you, not the mask, that transverses yourself into Grim. The Grim Shroud is simply a disguise - but a vital one. If you were to enter Grim after your blooming as a Reaper without one in place you will be a beacon to all things dead. No longer are they the forlorn and lost souls that you deal with in the living world - at the sight of you, a Reaper without a Shroud to disguise them, a being that is alive in the Grim, they will try to literally eat you in their attempt to become living again. Most times it is simply your un-Shrouded presence that attracts them. Sometimes, it even triggers them into the monsters that live under everyone's bed. Removing your mask or having your mask knocked off in the Grim will have the same effect. A bite from a ghost or a monster will leave you with a sickness that, if not treated immediately and properly, will slowly clot and suffocate your heart. That is, if you manage to escape. To slip in and out of the Grim you must utterly empty your mind, which is a bit difficult when you're about to be eaten.

Bottom line: keep your mask on when going into the Grim.

Your Grim Shroud wouldn't leave you without a means to defend yourself, of course. How will you purge the Grim of the ghosts-turned-monsters without a weapon? This, too, is an extension of who you are. Your weapon may be a whip, some sort of fancy stake, dual axes, or the classic scythe. Whatever genius monster-fighting contraption your beautiful soul produces, it is yours for life, and should be as unique as you are. No matter if a monster knocks it out of your hand, it will return to you in the Grim just like your mask does in the living world, Grim Shroud or no Grim Shroud in place. Be extremely cautious, however. If your Grim weapon were to cut something living, including yourself and other Reapers, it will immediately stop their heart.

Bottom line: keep your Grim weapon in check.



As a reaper, you're paid by the case and by the monster. The bigger the case, or the bigger the monster, the bigger the reward. As cases are usually more time consuming, some reapers only hunt monsters. But as hunting can be extremely dangerous, other reapers focus on releasing ghosts from their ties to the earth. However if you don't hunt or solve ghost cases at all your paycheck will look rather bare. To avoid faking killing a monster or purging a ghost, you have to report to the DDS and have a representative from the office confirm it and give it his or her signature of approval of the case first before you actually get anything done, and again after the case is solved. So, happy reaping on that note!

The monsters (also called demons) that you will encounter in the Grim were once the confused and forlorn ghosts that you interact with on the daily, except their ties to the earth have been unresolved for so long that their ghostly selves had manifested into something rabid. These demons, when left to their own devices, grow and grow and are known for sucking upon the life force of the living, and a big part of their severity is a result of the seriousness of the ghost's ties and emotional baggage. All of them are solid black with the occasional white markings with a very wide variety of different physiques, and their weak or "killing" spot is a patch of white that roughly resembles an eye that can be anywhere on its body. For simplicity reasons, the DDS has organized them into categories.

Type 1

These are the harmless guys. They can't do much except for ruin your mood a little bit, and are mostly found scurrying about the Grim like rats, and they are about the size of a corgi. Rarely are they the kind to generate into something severe given the time and mostly they never move to another stage. These will get you a few bucks at most.



These are the kinds that are more prone to minor possessions, usually hanging over the shoulder or trailing behind the life force they're sucking off of. They're pesky and tricky to catch mostly because they're fast and slippery and they are about the size of large dogs. They're worth a bit more, mostly because ghosts who turn into these will progress into a bigger problem later, and no one likes to be possessed. These are one of the most common types of monsters that reapers will hunt.



These are where your reaping will be the most, as killing one will get you paid relatively well and catching them is easier than the higher types. Type 3 monsters are almost always possessing someone, and unlike a Type 2 monster they can control the body if their victim is vulnerable enough to them, which given time will happen. These types aim to kill their victims through suicide because in the moment between life and death the monster can devour the victim's life energy before it has a chance to become a ghost. Type 3 monsters are the size of a baby deer.



These are the kinds that like to haunt specific buildings, areas, and objects that they had been connected to as a ghost. They're the typical terror, with the ability to make contact with objects in the real world and throw them, scratch them, etc. They can fully possess people but only for brief moments, and are usually as big as a bear. Kill one of these, and you could have dinner for a month.

Type 5

Type 5 monsters are very dangerous. They possess their victims subtly and integrate themselves into the person's mind so it is very difficult to remove it from its victim, and often times it is hard to see the demon as it hides in the person's shadow. This type slowly takes control of its victim's mind and compels him or her into madness, and sometimes if it hasn't been removed yet it convinces the person to kill others. It will feed off of the person and the person's own victims until he or she eventually dies from the prolonged exposure to the demon. Get one of these human sized demons killed and you can finally get that new surround sound you've been eyeing for a while.

Type 6

These are never to be attempted alone or without the DDS's approval, and are simply foolhardy to try to kill. They are composed of not one ghost, but of many who have turned into their monstrous selves and have morphed into one large, festering demon, progressing so instantly that they don't even remain in their ghostly stage for more than a minute. Most often they appear after a substantial amount of deaths in the same place in the same time frame, manifesting along with any major tragedy. The smallest ones could be about the size of a one story building, the bigger ones larger than a skyscraper.

Luckily the latter type 6 are only visible when you're high up and they mind their business unless provoked, collectively sucking upon the life force of an entire city from the clouds. The DDS, in fear of the amount of lives that will be lost and the damage caused, purposefully leave the bigger ones alone. The department has veterans monitor their movements but nothing more than that since the damage that they cause normally do not result in anything more than making everyone more depressed, since it is sucking on the life of a large population and not an individual. The smaller ones on the ground floor, however, are cause for much more immediate concern. They can pluck a human's soul out of its body and eat it like it's a tic tac.

Keep in mind that hunting is grueling, back-breaking work. Its hard to make a living off of killing demons, and constantly having to keep yourself and the oblivious pedestrians alive when in the grind of battle is even harder. Casualties happen all of the time.

Code: Select all

(Please delete everything in parenthesis <3)

[b]Name:[/b]

[b]Age:[/b] (Teenagers would still be in the blooming stage, so preferably I'm looking for 20+.)

[b]Looks:[/b]

[b]The Grim Shroud:[/b] (This is how your character looks in the Grim.  Include description of mask, outfit, and weapon.  Your overall clothing should look like some variant of the classic Grim Reaper, but with your own creative twist.)

[b]Personality:[/b] (Negative and positive traits as well, please.)

[b]Purging Style:[/b] (How does your character fight?  Are they quick and agile, or are they aggressive and flashy?  Include weaknesses as well as strengths.)

[b]Backstory:[/b] (They've seen ghosts all of their life.  How have they coped with this and how have others treated them in how they respond to seeing the dead?  Include other aspects as well please.)

[b]Not Listed:[/b]


Adriana pushed herself forward, the ache in her feet thrumming throughout the bones of her body. With each step, her soles burned with pain, her cramped shoulders stiffened, and her bleary eyes threatened to close shut. She was so, so tired.

She blinked down at her cell, her thumbs tapping upon the digits and calculations running through her head. She had approximately $83 left in her bank account and $13 in her wallet, and her phone bill is $67 (which will be overdue in three days). That leaves $29 left for groceries, but no no no, she had to pay back Ronnie from last week, so that leaves $18 left. She still had three boxes of cereal and some packets of oatmeal at home, so that means all she would have to buy is a carton of milk and some cup ramen noodles, because she still had to get that stupid lock replaced on her door. At the very least, she had $3 left. If she ever ran out of milk, she could resort to eating cereal with water again instead.

Okay, okay. She could do this. Her next paycheck was in two weeks. She could do this.

She heaved a breath and pocketed her phone to stare blankly at the broken sidewalk in front of her. Grey weeds stretched their broken and withered limbs upon the cement, as if exhausted from the effort of heaving their stems through the grungy fissures they were permanently stuck in. Adri watched as a pair of impeccable black businessmen shoes stepped on their ends and continued on their commute.

Adri jolted as an ebony form skittered across where she had been staring, fast enough that she did not have time to register what it was. She blinked rapidly and swiveled around to the direction it had gone, forcing her eyes to adjust to the dark alley it went down.

She reconsidered her options.

Finally, glancing furtively at the street, Adriana carefully stepped into the shadows between the two buildings, swinging her backpack around and opening up the top zipper. She stared down at the familiar sight inside, her mouth pressing into a thin line of uneasiness, before she reached her hand in and pulled out the vintage bunny mask that was inside.

"Please, please, please, please..." she begged the mask's unmoving and overtly cheery expression. She was so sick of eating watery cereal.

Glancing at the nearby busy street once more, she crouched behind a dumpster and slipped the mask on, emptying her mind as best she could. After a few quiet moments, she felt it; the indescribable pull, the tingling on her skin, and the sudden lightness of her limbs. She opened her eyes.

All color had seeped away, the people passing on the streets suddenly blurry and unrecognizable, the wall in front of her suddenly lacking the depth and clarity of the real world. Adriana stood from her crouched spot, shaking the stiffness from her knees. Leaning against the wall next to her was her scythe.

She grabbed it and propped it on her shoulder, her hands finding home in the ease and comfort of the twisted wooden staff. She looked down the alley, and then up; it must have escaped upwards.

She pumped her legs, huffing to their beat and staring at her end goal, before launching herself at the opposite wall. Her body in the Grim was much lighter, more floaty, and more agile, something to do with the different gravity or something in the Grim that had been explained to her years ago. She hit the wall with her feet and kicked off again. And again. I got this, I got this...

She hit the lip of the roof with a thud, her weapon almost flying out of her hands as she scrambled for a grip. She heaved herself over with a grunt, the blade of the scythe clattering in its muted Grim way on the gravel. She stood on the rooftop, hands on her knees, gathering herself again.

When she looked up, there it was. It moved around a small chimney as if it were sniffing it, its strange fur speckled with white only on one half of its side. Its head was a large mouth with two lolling tongues, resting upon seemingly hundreds of razor sharp teeth. It so far hadn't noticed her.

Okay, okay, okay. I got this, please please please I got this, oh please don't jinx me.

Adriana inched closer to the beast, trying her best to be silent on the gravel. An unprecedented shift of the rocks beneath her feet made her freeze, but it still hadn't noticed her. Closer, and closer still, she moved into striking range.

She stared at its back, wondering who it had been.

No, no, no! You need this money.

Mustering up her determination, she notched the scythe over her shoulder, adjusting the blade angle for the kill.

Suddenly the demon swiveled its mouth head up, seemingly staring at the direction she had come, and launched itself away just as her scythe swung down, grazing its strange little hairs. She screamed in frustration and slashed again at its fleeing figure to no avail, before tripping over the chimney and landing on her hands, her weapon resting a few feet away. She stayed there, staring dismally at the rocks in front of her face, before sighing.

She pushed herself up in a sitting position, staring at where the monster had leapt off of the rooftop and disappeared. Maybe, she thought, she'll eventually get around to liking the taste of water and cereal. She reached to stand before she finally heard the unmistakable clicking of teeth, the guttural growl, and the scrape of long nails upon the ground.

She turned and stared into the twisted face of a Type 4.

Samuel let out a sigh as he dragged himself out from beneath the car that he was working on. A smear of grease was spread over his cheek from the engine that he had to replace the oil plate on. Wiping his hands on a rag he tossed it into the box as he moved to the hood to start putting the engine back together.

"Hey, Samuel," his boss called out. "When you get done with that one, I have a Ford Focus that needs an oil change."

Samuel gave a wave to show that he had heard him. He didn't really talk to people much. He didn't really say anything at all. Tightening down the last bolt on the engine he closed the hood and started his clean up.

He paused.

He could sense something. He never really knew how he knew, but he could always tell when the higher types were nearby. Maybe it was his brush with the Grim when he was nine. Some perminant etching of the alternate reality within his soul. All he knew was that there was one nearby.

His boss could tell that there was something up. "You need to go, Samuel?" he asked. Samuel only nodded. "I'll cover for you."

Samuel had been fortunate enough to have a boss that was well aware of Samuel's extracurricular activities. Samuel had saved him from a type 3 a year back. So when Samuel said he had to go, he always knew what it was for.

Samuel grabbed his mask from the tool box, a black, featureless mask with a single eye opening for his right to view through. Pulling over his face he turned to the garage exit.

For him, going into the Grim was like walking through a door. It took him almost nothing to step in and out of the reality. Clothing in loose black clothing and a hood over his head to hide even more features, he began his search. A few other Reapers that had met him called him the Black Swordsman. One of a handful that managed to survive the Grim with his mask was pulled off. It took only a moment and he was left with a large scar over his left arm that was the reminder to protect his mask at all costs.

Using the lighter gravity of the world, he hopped up to the rooftops and did a quick scan of the area.

There it was.

A grotesque creature on the roof of a building. And it looked like there was another Reaper in trouble. Jumping the gaps between the buildings, he hurried toward the pair before flinging one of his daggers into the arm of the type 4. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size," he said as he drew the light blue blade from it's sheath at his side. The creature had its eyes on him now as he moved around it to get her in its blind spot. "I suggest you get your weapon. Now."

Sebastian L. Whitecandle

"I'll be marking you as complete." Sebastian said, nudging the still form of the type 3 demon. He tilted his head to the side, a stray strand of hair falling on his face. "However, you aren't the one I'm looking for."

A distant thud came from behind Sebastian. Another type 3 had landed right beside Sebastian, looking him straight in the eye.

"Well...this is unexpected. I do hope this doesn't set me off schedule." He muttered, drawing his shadowy blade. "I'll dispatch you before dealing with that type 4."

The scaly demon snarled, launching itself at Sebastian. Parrying each attack, Sebastian spun, cutting the demon in half. He sheathed his weapon and pulled out a notebook.

"Yet another one to mark. Now I'm five minutes behind schedule." He commented, writing in his notebook. Sebastian stood up, walking to the edge of the roof he was on and jumped off, gliding from rooftop to rooftop. He soon spotted his target.

"Yet another unexpected quantity." Sebastian observed, seeing that two other Reapers had engaged the type 4 demon he was tracking. He tilted his head to the side, observing the scene.

Gen|Somewhere in San Francisco|

"Hey everyone who wants to see some cool karate? You? You sir? Anyone?"

The crowds continued to move along. Gen sighed. San Francisco was never a very generous place.

"C'mon guys, could you at least throw a couple coins into the uh..." Gen glanced down at his weird gray mask thing that served as a his "hat" so to speak. A couple dimes and pennies lay there, glittering pathetically in the afternoon light.

People continued to walk by, eyes barely flickering over to where Gen stood, his pole by his side. Gen decided if he started his show, regardless of the lack of spectators, perhaps some would find his display interesting. He grabbed his lead pole, holding it with both hands, diagonal to his body. Gen let his stance widen, his toes pointing forwards. He breathed in.

Two seconds.

Gen held it, staring forwards, eyes going blank.

Four seconds.

Then he exhaled, shoulders falling slowly.

One second.

Gen opened his eyes again, staring once again into the milling crowds ahead. Slowly, he moved his weapon, positioning it's butt to fit underneath his elbow. It's head faced forwards, angling slightly downwards.

Begin.

Gen swung the pole's head up, poking it forwards in a series of quick jabs. He then let his hand slip down it's length and let his foremost leg swig out and around, dropping low and executing a perfect sweep. Gen bought himself up again, positioning his weapon in at a slant across his body.

Battle is a simple art.

He stepped back, then feinted a second step and sprung forwards, bringing the pole to face forwards once more. He struck upwards, bringing his body low, then slid backwards, letting his weapon slide downwards. He struck twice at the ground, then spun his weapon, striking twice at the sky once more.

There are only two true rules.

Gen spun his pole once more, catching it on his shoulder and striking forwards: up, down, up again. His feet slid forwards and backwards, hardly scratching against the rough sidewalk.

Strike when necessary.

The pole glimmered dully in the afternoon light, weaving it's way around Gen's body, striking forwards suddenly before retreating once more into a circle of light.

Defend when you deem worthy.

Gen let his pole slip into an upright position, then kicked it up, letting his hand cut the pole's swing upwards when he saw fit.

The only skill worth mastering is learning when and where to do these two things.

Gen threw his weapon upwards, letting it hang for just a second, before snatching it out of the sky and slamming it down on the pavement with a resounding crack.

So fight carefully, with strength and speed, and you shall prevail. But know this...

The pole stood for a second, then fell as Gen's hand left it. It swished through the air before landing on a pair of crossed legs.

Never fight with passion. Know this...

Gen smiled, breathing lightly as the sun shone down upon him, hitting his weapon and reflecting back out into the world.

The key to battle is simply not to fight so hard.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen. I'll be here all year if any of you decide perhaps your leather wallets aren't so paper thin."

No one gave him a second glance. The small group of spectators that had gathered to watch him perform threw him a couple of coins before heading off to work or home or wherever they saw fit to go.

Indeed, the key to anything is to not fight so hard for it.

Kali | her apartment | 10:01 PM


My alarm croaks at me, the customised "ribbit-ribbit" really starting to get on my nerves. Groaning, I sit up from bed and run a hand through my hair. Or attempt to run a hand through my hair. My fingers barely get passed the curls of my fringe for a tangle latches onto them. I hiss from the unexpected pain and gingerly remove my hand from my hair.

"I'm going to brush you," I snap at my red curls, hanging down my shoulders.

My hand slams down onto the little alarm clock dancing on my bedside table. I'm going to takr the batteries out of it. Miguel is also going to eat the dead clock once I've given him a piece of my mind. It's ten at night, why would I need to be awake?

Stalking out of my bedroom, I make my way into the bathroom and turn the shower on. I resist the urge to make it a hot shower, knowing I'd end up in there for hours. My water bill went through the roof last month. I had to do extra cases to pay off my water bill, on top of the gas bill, and then everything else. I've only just gotten enough money to buy my new phone, and get a gift for Miguel's birthday. Fresh food can wait another month. It's canned meals again until I've done some monsters. Urgh. I'd probably need to get a level four if I want to restock my entire kitchen.

The cold water of my shower bites into my skin as I scrub my body clean. I turn the hot tap on a fraction to relieve the icy chill from the water. I wash my hair, lathering in the conditioner, humming to myself as I brush the knots out. Once I've finished in the shower, I turn the water off and climb out to dry myself. I wrap a towel around my hair, then walk into my bedroom to get dressed, clinging the towel tighter to my body when I notice my bedroom door is open. I never leave it open.

Pushing the wooden door with my shoulder, I stroll casually into my bedroom to find Miguel sitting on my bed. His black hair is tinged with grey at tye sides, more noticeable when he has it up in a ponytail. His tanned features seem more weathered than usual. It's always a pleasure to see him, but also a surprise. Has something happened?

"Mahakali," he addresses me and stands up.

"I promise I haven't broken any rules," I blurt out. Compsred to his smooth accent, mine sounds harsh and dirty. It isn't exactly Scottish, kind of a mixture of everything, although you can tell my parents had thick Scottish accents, because it's there, in my voice. Sometimes my accent sounds Spanish, but that's with a few words. Most of the time it's just the harsh lilt of the Scottish accent that seems a little too forced.

"I know, Mahakali," he grins. "I just came to let you know that I'm moving again."

"Oh," I grin. "Where are we off to this time? Please tell me we're going to some place exotic!"

Miguel doesn't smile. I swallow thickly. "I'm going back to Spain. My mother is quite ill. I want to bid her farewell before she passes. You are staying here," he tells me firmly.

"When will you be back?" I can feel the tears burning my eyes. He's leaving me?

"I don't know. There is a shortage of Reapers in the Oceanic regions," he shrugs. "I might not be back here for a long time."

"Oh," I glance down. "So what about your birthday?"

"Mahakali," he sighs. "You're a grown woman. You'll be fine on your own."

"Yeah I know," I grip the towel around me tighter.

"I'll let you know when I get to Spain safely," he takes two easy steps toward me and kisses my forehead. "Goodbye Kali."

"Yeah, see you," I mumble as he walks out of my room.

Every door that slams shut hits me hard. I flinch when the front door closes, and just stand in my bedroom, staring into space. I'm painfully aware of the huge hole forming in my heart. I've found it difficult to connect with people after my mother left me with Miguel. With Miguel leaving me too, how am I supposed to deal with everything? And what about his birthday? I'd had things planned for months now. I guess it doesn't really matter anymore. It's just me.

I should get a pet.

Sighing, I dress quickly in some plain shorts and a blue T-shirt, before walking to my bedside table and pick up my mask. The red jewrls glint at me mockingly. They're a reminder that I'm nothing in this world. The Grim is the only place where I have any real purpose.

Shrugging, I empty my mind and put the mask on. I feel the familiar tug in my gut, a weightless feeling from being in the Grim washing over me. My eyes open and I hold my hand out, my trusty spear appearing in my grip.

"Alright, Buain," I say to the spear. "Let's go purge some monsters."

Shadows flicker on the Grim, my eyes following them. I move through the paler light as though I weigh nothing, climbing out of my bedroom window and leaping across to the other building. Something catches my attention, and I notice three Reapers trying to take down a class four Monster. Curious to see how this will turn out, I find a place to sit, out of sight, ad watch the fight play out.

Her mind blanked out.

Of course, she could still register some things. She saw its human face split into four sections, its lips now the jagged edges of its new monstrous mouth, its former human eyes bulging nearly on top of its head, and its new eyes spread all about its chest. She saw its blackish skin, so close she could decipher a bare glimmer from the strange stagnant light of the Grim upon its feather-like scales. She could see its cracked nails curling slightly over the tips of its three strikingly human arms. She could guess that it used to be a woman with long hair.

It bent closer, its gaping maw stretching its lips out, curling backwards until Adriana could see the stubs of black teeth lining the inside of its mouth. Clear liquid dripped down from its upper lip and sizzled upon Ariana's knee. She stared into the abyss of its throat.

A knife sparked upon the thick skin of its neck and it screamed in surprise.

Adriana mirrored its scream, shaken out of her trance. She pushed away from the chimney and scrambled for her weapon as the Type 4 focused on its new foe. She could feel her cheeks already begin to burn with shame, and was glad that her mask covered much of her face.

She clutched the weapon with both hands before swiveling around and nearly tripping over herself in the process. Brandishing it, she surveyed the Reaper that had to come to her aid, his Shroud unfamiliar to her. In his hand was a blazing blue sword and sparks flew as he raised it to block the demon's attack. They circled each other.

Adriana's mind raked for an idea, any idea, that didn't involve her sitting on the sidelines again. She knew she was a laughing stock where the Reapers were concerned. She imagined their faces as she walked into the office with a Type 4 under her belt. Not the mention the relief on her father's face when she showed him how much money she'd made.

Type Fours, Four, Four, Four... What was it about them? She struggled to recount the information on them from the Guide to Reaping Handbook she'd been given a few years back. Of course, she didn't have the little pamphlet to look at anymore. The Office had to take it back once she passed the test on it (well, barely passed the test on it), because they couldn't let that kind of stuff just lying around like that. People would ask questions, even though they had a relatively good system in place so getting discovered by a civilian didn't really matter, but they never really liked having to clean it all up...

Adriana yelped as the other Reaper was thrown across the rooftop, his shoulder nearly grazing her feet. Ah, yes, now she remembered. Demons had varying strengths, and Type Fours could be as strong as bulls. But there was something else about them, something itching in the back of her mind...

Now was definitely not the time to get distracted.

She brandished her weapon in front of her again, building up her self confidence. She slashed in front of her, pushing the demon farther away. It screeched and snapped at her. Adriana shivered, remembering how just moments ago she had almost let it get to her, how she had sat there paralyzed in fear as it slowly began to take over her mind.

Now fuming with indignation and her own injured pride, Adri charged the demon, slashing at its many eyes on its chest. She managed to nick one of them, which promptly burst with that slimy clear liquid again. She danced away, trying to staunch the sudden surge of smugness in her chest, and glanced briefly at the other Reaper to see if he saw her accomplishment, too. In that brief instant of her turning away, the demon took its chance and smacked its elongated arms into her and threw her again into the chimney.

She groaned.

"Get it together," he said as he passed her on the ground, weaving his smoldering sword through the air as he strode again towards the demon. Through the single hole in his utterly featureless mask Adriana could see his eye flicker, a dead movement, empty and full of stagnant indifference and contempt.

The other Reaper took her place, admittedly better at not getting smacked around than she was. Adriana's gloved fingers dug into the crumbling brick behind her, her face flushed with shame.

The brick began to disintegrate even more, and in her palm fell something not so brick-like. She pulled it out in front of her, the battle forgotten as the absurdity of the object, so clear and sharp in the Grim, surprised her enough for her to place all of her focus upon it.

It was a letter.

She flipped it over.

In flowing handwriting, so faint that it must have been decades old, it read "Happy Birthday."

In the demon ignited a scream so chilling that ice filled Adriana's veins. In that moment, as the Type 4 utterly dismissed the other Reaper in front of it and turned to her, a renewed vigor of exigency flooding through the creature's disintegrating self-control, Adriana remembered what it was about Type Fours that she couldn't remember.

They all were connected to something in the physical realm, and if a Reaper could find it and destroy it, then the demon would go with it. Of course, finding the object was near impossible, so most Reapers just outright killed the beast.

And pinched in between her fingers was the key to finally eating real food for a whole month.

The demon wailed a piercing cry and charged.

Samuel had moved in close to the creature. Letting it swipe close enough that he could feel the breeze of its claws as it brushed within a hair's breadth of his flesh. The creature roared in its frustration of not being able to get its claws into Samuel.

He moved around the Type 4 staying within its area of attack for far longer than someone would deem safe. Sparks cascaded from the blue blade as he blocked the claws that slashed about him. Normally he would be cutting this thing to shreds with his sword, but this one was already being dealt with by another Reaper. She had a claim to it.

Feeling the clammy hand gripping his arm he felt himself being thrown around like a rag doll. He gave out a grunt each time the beast slammed him against the roof beneath them. With a roar the creature flung him to the feet of the previously down Reaper. "Damn, this one is strong," he muttered.

Getting to his feet he saw that the Easter Bunny Reaper was battling the type 4, but seemed to be worried about him with her glances back at him. Taking her eyes off the creature left her open for the creature's attack.

Sighing he guessed that he was working with a novice. "Get it together," he muttered as he engaged the creature again. Moving in between its arms and striking with his pommel and hands to keep its attention.

The Type 4 suddenly turned to the other Reaper, a scream tearing from its throat. Looking to the Easter Bunny Reaper he could see a slip of paper in her hand. With a split decision he grappled with the creature, his blade across its chest he held onto the handle and the tip of the sword as he dug his feet in to hold it back.

The shape edge cutting into his own hand as well as the Type 4's torso as they fought a tug of war toward the Easter Bunny Reaper. "What are you waiting for?!" he roared over the creatures desperate cries. "Destroy it already!"

RAVEN ÆTHER

I whistled and raised my arm. A raven landed there, cocking it's head at me and croaking. Smiling, I handed him a peanut- he'd deserved it. Pleased with himself, Anubus clambered up to my shoulder with his prize and promptly dropped it on the ground in front of me. I obediently stepped on it before he leapt down and started guzzling his treat.
The sky was blue, the sun high- a perfect day for most people. But not for me. I was about to go hunt down my first Type 5. That wasn't what my problem was, though. I was going back into the city for the first time since I'd escaped the asylum in order to get it. What if they were still looking for me? What if they found me? What if I was brought back to that horrid place where the ghosts and demons made of madmen roamed? Then I really would go crazy.
No. Better not to think about that. I offered my arm to Anubus as he finished his nut.
"You want to go to town with me?" I asked him.
"Crrrk," he told me and hopped to my shoulder. I'd saved the bird from his family when he was just a chick and raised him myself. He was leucistic, so some of his feathers were white and his eyes were blue, not black. I stroked his head and ruffled his feathers.
"Rrroke."
"Yeah, I know. It's not going to be fun out there, is it?" I walked to my car- an old, slightly rusty pickup truck- and slipped into the driver's seat. Anubus jumped down to the perch on the passenger seat I'd made for him and began preening.
"And don't you go pooping all over my seat." I revved up the vehicle and started off.
The drive was a few hours, as most of mine were. I mostly reaped in nearby towns or abandoned farms, but I didn't get much other than Type 2's and 3's with the occasional 4. Nothing bigger.
Despite my skill as a swordsman, I began to wonder if I could really take a Type 5 without another Reaper. I'd lost even to Type 3's before, when I was younger. Nowadays, it was only some of the Type 4's that posed a problem. But if I could lose to a Type 4, what would a Type 5 do to me? And what happened if I became a ghost, too? Would I become part of the demon and make it a Type 6?
I shook the thoughts out of my mind. I had to make it. Didn't I?
I pulled into a parking space in front of an asylum, then stopped to re-read the address.
"Oh, yeah," I muttered. "They possess people. Oh goodie." I grabbed my mask- a black and silver thing that covered half my face. "Stay here, Anubus. I don't want to go having to search for you."
 And I pulled on the mask.
Color dissipated from the world around me and I could feel my weight grow lighter. I picked felt the silver blade at my hip for comfort, then started looking through every barred window to find the monster.
"Come out, come out wherever you are," I whispered, the rock in my gut growing larger. Every instinct told me to run, to leave.
There was a flicker. I stopped, backtracking and looking back through the window.
There it was again. Something moving in a woman's shadow.
Run, my gut told me.
No. I looked back and counted how many cells down I'd have to go-13-then dropped and slipped inside. Thank goodness for the Grim shroud, I thought. Invisibility was one perk.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
The door shook as its prisoner tried to wrest themselves free. I had to leave.
6, 7, 8, 9, 10.
Wasn't thirteen an unlucky number?
11, 12.
This had to be a mistake.
13.
I Aglænan out of her sheath. I'd named her for with a hybrid of two names: Aglæca for demon, Banan for slayer.
I brought it down on the lock and broke it, kicking the door open, ready to kill some demon ass.
It wasn't there.
Wait, what? Thirteen. Yes, that was the number- I'd counted, and I never forgot a number.
I was on the ground with a human-sized demon in my face within seconds. Surprised, I brought up my silver sword and sliced desperately at it, trying to get free. I was an excellent swordsman, but when it got to wrestling, I was sure to lose. I needed to move.
I slammed Aglæcan into the demon's face. It roared and dropped back as I scrambled to my feet. It was gone by the time I was up and ready to fight. What was it the Reaping Guide had said? Oh, yes. They could be hard to find and often hid…hid… hid where?
 I hit the dirt as I heard the rustle of movement behind me, and the creature went sailing over my head. Again, by the time I was on my feet it was gone. How could I defeat I demon I couldn't even find? And if I didn't manage to get it out of the woman, would I kill her, too?
Run.
No! I couldn't. I had to do this. The thing pinned me down and roared in my face, one of its eyes oozing black blood. Uh-oh. I was pretty sure I'd really pissed that thing off.
It snapped at my face, and barely dodged. I didn't think I could win this.
I kicked it in somewhere in the gut. It barely loosened its grip, but that was enough. I rolled out from under it and ran.

The bus rolled through the night, then stopped on the corner with a hydraulic whisper. The doors opened outwards, casting a rectangle of dry light onto the sidewalk. Yawning, a man walked down the steps, his coat slung over his shoulder.

Daniel felt the night wind behind him as the bus deserted his corner. Sitting on the bench, he stretched his arms, bending back to look at the sky. Lucky for him, the streetlamps had all been shot out, and the stars twinkled back like so many diamonds.

“Yeah,” he said, tilting his head to see the purple neon sign across the street. “I really am a lucky guy.”

He pushed the door open with a low, ominous chime, peeking his head inside. “Enter, stranger,” the darkness beckoned.

There was some rustling, and the sound of a light being plugged in. In an instant, milky blue light flooded the room. An young woman sat at the table, eyes closed, her hands wisping over the crystal ball at the center. She was modestly dressed, but had a mystic flair to her body that drew him in. “Shut the door, please,” she said, “for the sight of the beyond is not meant for mortal eyes.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, but nudged the door closed as he walked in. The woman’s eyes opened, grey turned silver in the beauteous light. “Welcome, traveller. What is it you wish to know of fate?”

Against Daniel’s will, his heart skipped a beat. Breaking gaze, he sat in the chair across from her. “H-hello, I’d...like to see my love life. C-can you do that?” he asked, glancing bravely up at the fortune teller.

She smiled serenely. “Of course. A moment to prepare is all I ask.” Saying this, she subtly nudged a pile of business cards towards him. Daniel glanced at them, at her, then looked down.

She closed her eyes again, her hands flowing through the air. “Spirits of the beyond, help me see this man’s path. Allow me your strength, and pierce the veil of time!” She thrust her hands forward, her clothes flaring out intensely. The stack of business cards blew up from the table, storming skyward around the room. The crystal ball seemed to spin with the mist, ripples of light whirling from its surface. Daniel sunk back in his seat as the woman’s shadow grew behind her and split apart, eclipsing all in writhing darkness.

All at once, the winds ceased, and the crystal ball returned to its dim-watt glow. The business cards dispersed across the room, and one fluttered down into Daniel’s lap. The woman straightened her clothes, resting back in her seat. “My apologies,” she said, breathing shallowly. “That must have been frightening.”

Daniel broke from his trance, shaking his head. “Not at all! Anyway, what did you see?”

The fortuneteller’s eyes darkened. “It is troubling.” She looped her hair on her finger uneasily. “Your love life, I sense, has been unfortunate up until now. I see...a suit in shreds.”

Daniel nodded, tugging on his collar. “That’s completely right. And?”

“And, I sense you have recently begun to hope for love once more. It is...a card.”

He flushed bright red, looking down as he pocketed the business card. “Really? H-huh.”

“But your future,” the woman began hesitantly, “it is...a ghost. An ill omen is what I saw. Misfortune, grief, regret, sorrow, I….” The woman buried her face in her hands. “Forgive me. I cannot go on.”

The room seemed to collapse in on Daniel. “Oh.”

Silence filled the mystic shack, the room growing ever more pale and vast, diminishing him to a shadow on the floor. Then, a chuckle broke the silence from beyond life and time.

The woman grasped her skull, shaking her head slowly, saying, “You need not pay me for this sight; no man deserves to see this future.”

“No. It’s okay, really.” Daniel raised his hand consolingly, trying to hide his tremble. “It’s only a possibility, after all. The future’s still mine to decide.”

The woman looked up at him, smiling painfully. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” In a flash, Daniel’s hand dipped into his vest, pulling out five cards. They flew onto the table, dealt swiftly in the shape of a cross.

“In fact,” he added, a gambler’s gleam in his eye, “I’ll make another future right now.”
The fortuneteller drew back. “Wh-what is this?”

“Aw, come on,” Daniel said, tapping his forehead. “Don’t tell me you never learned tarot cardistry.” He gestured to the arrangement on the table. “The three cards in the crossbeam stand for past, present, and future. There’s more to it than that, but I don’t plan to waste your time.”

The woman attempted a sober laugh, forcing a smile. “You do realize that I am the fortuneteller here, right?”

“Right, right.” Daniel’s hand came down on the first card, flipping it over. A hideous face stared back at him, horns protruding from the pentagram upon its head. Below it, a man and woman cowered in fear, their bodies blackened by the flaming hellscape around them.

“It’s the Devil,” the woman whispered, her eyes shining silver.

Daniel nodded. “Standing for Satan, demons, and generally evil things.” He sighed. “Well, we’ve all done bad things in the past.”

The fortuneteller placed her finger on the card, face contorted with shock. “But isn’t it reversed? The card’s facing away from you. It’s upside down!”

“No, it isn’t,” Daniel replied, and before the woman could respond, his hand had moved to the second card. “Now, to unlock the present!” With one deft twist, the card’s face blazed upwards, the fortuneteller recoiling in terror.

“Wait.” Her head tilted to one side, confusion-colored. “That’s not a tarot card!”

“Hm?” Daniel held it up, observing it. At his touch, the card split in two, revealing the tarot Moon, and a white piece of paper.

The fortuneteller laughed, pointing at the cards. “You drew my business card along with the tarot! A little inexperienced at fortune-telling, aren’t we?”

“No, that’s wrong.” Daniel’s gaze became piercing green, staring straight into the woman. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “Your business card is part of the fortune, too.”

Another laugh, as the woman became more and more disheveled. “Of what? What could that card possibly have to do with your fortune?”

“Who said it was my fortune?”

Shock overtook the woman, her mouth hanging open. Daniel continued, obscuring one emerald eye with his cards. “You were kind enough to tell my misfortune for me. So, I thought I’d tell yours, for the same price. Surely, it must be a welcome change.”

“Th-that’s-”

“Incidentally, the moon stands for deception, and the hidden side of a person.” Daniel’s eyes narrowed, his cards pointed forward in accusatory poise; then he shrugged. “Well, you would know more than me.”

He threw the cards back on the table, letting them slide over to the fortuneteller. “As you know, the final card stands for the future. Are you ready to see it?”

“Wh-why would I not be?” the woman erupted, slamming her fist on the table. At Daniel’s raised eyebrow, she blushed, settling back. “Reveal your last pathetic card,” she sneered.

Daniel didn’t need to be told, reaching his right hand forward to touch the card. Resting his fingertips on it, he subtly raised his left hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat begin to race. “This...is the greatest gamble,” he murmured, panting heavily.

The woman was frozen, staring down at the back of the fateful card. “Flip the card...flip it already.” Fury deforming her face, she pounced on the table, hands racing towards the future. “Show me!!!”

“I will!” Daniel’s left hand dove into his waistcoat, pulling out a metal-red mask and slamming it over his face. In an instant, the world was warped into stone, the colors sucked out of the room. The man in the black hat threw his poncho outwards, reaching his hand into the pouch on his belt and drawing out a pure-white card.

“Your card,” Daniel said, leaping across the table, “is the Eight of Diamonds!”

The fortuneteller was slumped back in her seat, a grotesque black demon protruding from her neck. As Daniel’s card began to glow, the demon wailed, gurgling, “How?”

Eight blood-red crystals flew out of Daniel’s card, embedding themselves in the demon’s face. Not wasting a second, Daniel drew his card back and sliced downwards, brutally severing the link between the possessor and its host.

As the demon fell away, black mist seeping from its wounds, Daniel released his card, letting it shatter into shards of light. “Guess I’m just lucky,” he said.

He sighed, letting the colors flow back into the world as he slipped back out of the Grim. Turning back to the fortuneteller, he regarded her slumbering form. “You were intelligent, I’ll grant you that. But because of that intelligence, you feared the future. And that is why you lost.

“Ah.” He stretched exuberantly, leaning back to rotate his shoulders. Sauntering around the purple-clothed table, he grinned. “Not bad for the first hit in a new town. San Francisco, I’m feeling lucky!”

He flung his arms wide, throwing himself into the Grim again. Leaning over the woman’s body, he examined her quickly for injury. The black spot where the demon had implanted itself in her neck was fading fast, the dark essence wisping away. A Type 2 ghost could rarely possess someone so deeply, but Daniel was always glad to meet an exception.

Speaking of the ghost, it was still lying at his feet, eyes wide and the rest of its face bleeding like mad. Daniel grabbed it by the neck, surprised when it shuddered in his grip. “You’re still alive,” he marveled, pushing some of the diamonds in deeper with his thumb, hearing the demon whimper at the pain.

“Well, it looks like I have something to show off now,” he said, hefting the demon’s torso over his shoulder. “And the cash won’t be too shabby either. In fact, it’ll probably net me a fortune.”

Laughing and shaking his head, he pushed his way out of the fortuneteller’s shop and into the Reaper’s paradise of the Grim.

RAVEN ÆTHER

Sick with fear, I dodged around a corner and glanced behind me- the creature was maybe nine yards away on my tail, and gaining.

I had to think. If I couldn't defeat it by a frontal attack, I had to find another way to make an offensive move that would give me an advantage. The question was, how? I glanced around. There was nothing: just me and the demon in the small corridor.

The corridor. Of course!

I leapt and jumped up the wall. As I fell back to the ground I flipped and landed on the demon's back, using my legs to hang on. It bucked and leapt, slamming me into the wall as I hung on for dear life.

The beast began to fall to the side- it was going to roll on top of me.

No, no, no, no, NO! I thought. This couldn't happen. I couldn't die. I couldn't let it loose. I hooked my ankles together under its belly as it dropped and swung around so that I was sitting on its stomach instead of back. I released my grip just before it hit the ground and stood over it.

"Liberatur inmundissimi spiritus fallendis facesse hinc transire ad vitam in Æthere; et hinc eieci te!" I cried. Be freed, foul spirits! Begone from here and go on to your life in the Æther! Leave here and I banish thee!.

I plunged Anglæcan down and sliced off its head. It jerked once, then went still. I collapsed, panting. I'd done it. I'd killed a Type 5. I stumbled to my feet and back to my car, then dropped in my seat. Anubus cocked his head at me.

"It was terrible, but I did it. Now I'll be rich," I told him and revved up the engine. The bird leapt up to my shoulder and started preening my hair. I laughed and stroked his feathers as I turned on the radio to a classical station. I started to back up and slowly start driving out of the parking lot when Anubus suddenly froze. He bated and flew at the window, disappearing into a tree. He'd never done that before.

I grabbed my mask and stepped out of the car, glancing around. Nothing. "Anubus, come here!"

The bird ignored me and stayed stock still. Was he seeing a ghost? Legend said they could, but I'd never seen one do it before.

I pulled on my mask just in time to be slammed into the ground by a headless demon.

"&@*^?!"

Anglæcan-which appeared in my hand when I entered the Grim- clattered to the ground. I struggled as the demon's blood dripped onto my face. It clawed at me, ready to deliver a fatal blow....

I was going to die. I was finally going to die.

Ray "Azrael" Mason

Azrael watched as the kid screwed his face up really tight and focused on the paint splattered canvas balanced on the easel. He tried not to let his eyes drift to the clock because some moments were too important to bail on.

"What do you see?" Azrael repeated patiently. "What's your gut reaction?"

Mike stared for a moment longer and then he shook his head. "Can you show me again?Just one more time?"

"But what do you see?"

"Nothing interesting." Mike shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at the floor, then up at Azrael defiantly. "I never see nothing interesting," he complained.

"That's not nothing at least," Azrael replied softly. He stared the kid down until Mike looked away but he picked up the pencil and approached the canvas because sometimes a teacher had to show their pupil the way.

"What about this shape here?" Azrael drew faint circles around the orange and red splashes of paint near the bottom of the canvas, until he'd blocked out what appeared to him to be a crouching figure in a pool of blood.

"It's an alien?" Mike asked. "In one of those pod things?"

"It could be," Azrael replied, holding the pencil out to him. Mike took it excitedly and began to draw the scene and Azrael watched his world transform. The cowering figure became an alien resting peacefully in its pod and the threatening Type 5 looming over it became a hovering baby mobile with dangling planets and orbiting spaceships. Azrael quietly gathered his bag and headed for the door.

"Keep working on it," he called as he left the house. "I want to see the finished project on Friday."

Azrael slid his mask into place as soon as he was outside and he pushed the thoughts out of his head in almost no time at all, though the quiet amazement at how easily Mike turned his world upside down lingered for half a second. Then the world faded into sepia, all of it except for a red gem winking in the pommel of a fallen sword. Next to a hand, a very real and very peach hand belonging to a very real and very endangered reaper.

The space between them disappeared as Azrael launched himself at the headless demon's back and pummeled it with his mace. The demon's claws had been about to gouge the girl's heart out but it switched rapidly to the defensive and lashed back at him instead. Azrael blocked with his gauntlet and the girl scrabbled for her sword. The demon let out a menacing growl as it realised it would have to face them both and it was angry and scared and that made it even more dangerous.

"A type five? Seriously, on your own?" Azrael growled as he swung the mace back and forth, aiming more to keep the demon dodging than to inflict any real damage.

"Yeah, so what? You think I can't handle it because I'm a girl?" She was back on her feet and she swung the sword deftly but like Azrael, she seemed unsure which body part to target.

"You got it's head at least," Azrael stated.

"Yet it still seems like it can see us. That and it's still actually moving around," the girl complained.

Azrael snorted and shook his head but there was nothing for it now. He lunged at the demon, his mace sinking into its chest and he followed through with the weight of his armoured body to push the demon to the ground. Its arms stretched around him and started to crush his body as he tried to drive his mace deeper into the creature's chest. It was definitely time for the girl to start slicing off more limbs.

Gen|Still somewhere in San Francisco|

"Oi! Stop squirming, I'm trying to think!"

Gen glared down at the tiny type two as it struggled to free itself from underneath his weapon.

"I caught you, I saw some of your type three friends heading for the hills, so wheres your big brother eh? Briefing said there was a type four herding you fools around."

The demon simply squawked and scrabbled at the ground. Gen poked it hard in the ribs and it fell silent.

"This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to track a beastie that can move so fast? That things got four legs and can move through walls and I haven't had anything to eat since Thursday. Does that sound fair to you?"

The little demon didn't respond. Gen crushed it, coughing at the following cloud of ash that erupted from beneath his staff. He stood from his crouch and surveyed the area once more. The warehouse he had been directed to clear out had been burnt down sometime in the past but the city had decided to rebuild it. Now massive rows of crates lined the ground floor, making Gen's field of view quite limited. Regardless, he stalked forwards at a brisk pace, eyeing the tops of the aisles for demons that were sure to be hiding there.

"Get out here you scummy ghost. I need this catch for next weeks dinner."

Nothing.

Gen thought for a minute. What did he remember about type fours?

"I bet if I broke some stuff here you'd come after me."

Gen smacked a box near him, cracking some of the wood. In response, a low growl echoed throughout the building. Gen grinned from ear to ear.

"Face me in the ring you silly beast!"

He smacked the crate again, tearing a long gash in the wood. Shoes and other assorted footwear spilled out. Gen glanced around for the ghost, his weapon at the ready.

"Last call!"

A louder growl resonated from around him. He could hear the eerie screech of claws on cement as his prey drew near. Gen's grin did not falter as he smashed the box again and again. Finally, the type four hurled itself into the aisle and turned to face Gen. Gen plugged his nose and swatted at the stench emanating from the beast.

"Jesus. I always fight the rank ones don't I."

The demon charged, hurtling down the aisle at Gen. It dropped it's head and attempted to skewer him with it's knotted horns. Gen deftly dived to the side, avoiding the blow and keeping distance between himself and the ghoul.

"Where not in Spain are we?" Gen shouted, miming a cape in his hands. The demon cocked it's head and snorted, pawing the ground.

"Y'know, because they have the running of the bulls in Spain and you kinda look like a really messed up bull and uh..."

The demon charged again, head down horns up.

"C'mon it wasn't that bad! I have friends that would bust a nut laughing at that!."

The demon roared in rage as it's horns buried themselves in one of the crates, having yet again missed their target.

"If all your gonna do is bum rush me I might as well have worn my OH MY GOD YOU HAVE A TAIL!"

Gen backpedaled just in time to dodge the vicious side swipe.

"You have to tell me these things before hand! How am I supposed to know you have terrifying appendages coming out of your...rear."

The demon, who had succeeded in turning itself around, roared again and leaped at Gen once more. The latter dove to the left as the ghoul's claws smashed down on the spot he was just standing on. Gen rolled forwards, dodging another swipe and bought his staff up to smack his enemy on the chin. Gen spun his weapon, turning and bringing it down into a defensive position just as the beasts counter attack hit him. The blow sent him flying across the aisle to smash into another crate.

"Jesus. You pack a punch don't you." Gen wheezed, clutching his ribs. He pulled his hand away to find it soaked in blood.

The demon lunged at him once more, eager to finish off it's adversary. Gen rolled to the left, barely evading the blow. He dropped into a crouch and sprung forwards, performing the same maneuver as before, bringing his staff up to strike the beasts chin once more. Without turning, Gen flung himself to the side, dodging the demon's counter. He rolled into then leaped onto the creature's back. The demon roared as Gen's pole found it's way across it's neck. Gen pulled backwards, gritting his teeth against the pain erupting from his battered ribs.

"Please die. Please, please die."

The demon reared up on it's hind leg, then fell backwards, attempting to crush Gen beneath it. Gen however, had counted on this. He swung onto the creatures shoulder and leaped upwards, pole angled downwards towards the demon's neck. The weapon collided with the tough skin of Gen's prey and ripped through it, crushing arteries and muscles. The beast tried in vain to roar, but only managed a croak as Gen rolled pulled his staff out and smacked the demon in the head.

"You've cost me...so much...in company insurance..."

The beast swiped at Gen, but the actions became more and more lethargic as black blood pooled beneath it. Gen rolled off the demon and onto the floor. Heaving, he took out his phone and dialed nine one one.

"Hello? Yes I uh....fell down some stairs...and I think...I broke my everything. I'm on the corner of uh....y'know the old warehouse....yes please send the paramedics....send some paranormal experts or something....'cuz this place is totally haunted."

Gen hung up and did his best not to giggle on account of his ribs.

He had the worlds worst job.

Sebastian Whitecandle

Sebastian's head snapped to the side as an explosion erupted a few miles away.
"I'm getting quite tired of these demons," he muttered, walking to the edge of the building and stepping off into free fall. He landed on the ground with a muted thud, stepping out into the shadowy streets. Several type 2 monsters were swarming towards the explosions source, appearing to be one mass of an oozing, black swarm. Sebastian harnessed his shroud, blasting a path down the middle of the mass, running through. The swarm bit and clawed at his ankles, but he pushed the stinging pain away, forming his shroud into a scythe. Sebastian used the weapon to dig into the ground, vaulting over a discolored taxi.

"What the! Watch where yer going!" shouted an unfamiliar reaper as Sebastian bumped into them. Looking at them calmly Sebastian pointed to the horde of monsters following him.
"I'd be more worried about where those things are going," he said before a second explosion shook the ground. Looking up, he grimaced. "It all makes sense now. The DDS needs to be informed of this," said Sebastian grim-faced to the other reaper.
"Why would we need to do that, it's only a few type 2's," said the reaper. Sebastian scoffed, unable to fathom how this reaper could not see what was truly happening.
"If you think that, you are a fool. We are watching the creation of a Type 6 demon. We cannot attack it, we cannot stop it, we can only observe it," said Sebastian. He seemed to be forgetting something but he could not remember what it was.

"But, why is it here? There hasn't been a large amount of death in the area, has there?" questioned the other reaper, rubbing his chin in thought. Sebastian said nothing but turned towards a brick building, gripping one of the small outcrops of brick where a window overlooked the street, hoisting himself onto the roof. A foul stench met Sebastian's nose, a smell of decay and death. Lying on the roof in front of him was a dead reaper, being devoured by a type 4. Sebastian slammed his fist into the monster, using his shroud to cleave the monsters head. One of the demons horns fell to the ground, spewing a black, oily substance unto the ground. Forming his shroud into a gun, Sebastian peppered the beast with holes. The type 4 still fought, snapping around and gnashing its teeth. Moving to slash the creature Sebastian brought his weapon down into the skull of the creature. The demon bit into Sebastians arm, drawing blood. Kneeing the monster in the gut, Sebastian twisted his arm free, tearing his shroud with wisps of black smoke. Even though it was for a brief moment, the shroud dissipating caused his skin to shine brighter than any beacon in the veil ever could. Sebastian cursed under his breath, snapping the type 4's neck.

"This is becoming a dangerous waste of time..." muttered Sebastian as several demons began to squawk and growl, attracted to the presence of a shroud been broken. Sebastian gathered his shroud around him, projecting himself into a much larger figure, nearly eight feet tall with a massive scythe. Slamming the weapon down into a horde of small demons split a crack into the roof that sent shockwaves down the building. More and more monster swarmed around Sebastian and he was knocked off the building. As he was being swarmed by the horde, pain shooting through his body, he saw a figure cloaked in red, someone he hoped to never see again. Shooting a black flare with his remaining strength, he prayed for help to arrive before his soul was ripped from his body.

Martin took a long drag from his cigarette, in his opinion it had been a quiet night. Only one client and that was to deal with a level two, "a waste of my time." He said to no one in particular. Martin took another drag as he looked out on to the city it was dark in the part of town where his office was, dark and quiet. He was a paranormal detective as far as the public was concerned, as far as a small circle was concerned he was a Reaper. His job was to kill ghost whose souls had been twisted in to monster. Martin knew that San Francisco had many reapers also employed by the DDS, so his public job gave him early access to work sometimes before the DDS had even posted the job.

Martin gazed out at the San Francisco skyline, and decided he was bored. An easy solution he thought was some freelancing, since he opened his agency he had little reason to, but if boredom wasn't a reason he couldn't imagine what was. He put out his cigarette, put the pack in his coat pocket, and headed up to the roof of his building. Martin stood on the roof and put on his mask feeling the Grim slowly wash over him. He felt lighter here and the air felt different, it was strangely soothing for him. He felt his blade at his waist, Prantcer a beautiful and practical weapon. Martin ran to the edge of the roof and jumped easily over several roof tops he landed gracefully atop a a cell tower, and watched.

If he wasn't working on request he at least wanted a challenge, he spotted a pack of twos and decided that was as good as anything and gave chase. He was gliding above them watching their movements for a good time to strike. Three, two, one, and drop, Martin dive bombed the one in the certain of the pack his sheathed blade striking it's back combined with the speed made it explode at once. The other nasty beast took notice and slowed beginning to circle the cloaked new comer warily. Martin laughed at the little demons he considered pest and began taunting them only six, a light challenge, but a good work out. One decided to test the waters, Martin bashed it in the face with the hilt of Prantcer then struck it across the back with the sheath killing it in a burst of smoke.

Martin laughed excitedly, "c'mon you're pathetic I've seen ones more deadly than you." Two of them took the bait, but before Martin had time to evaluate how to kill them he side stepped dodging their attacks. He'd seen something more important, a flair, a reaper in danger, play time was over.
He grabbed Prantcer's hilt and drew the blade, no time two waste. It was over in a flash of steal and smoke, his work done here he placed Prantcer back in his sheath hoping it would be unnecessary to sheath it again.
He ran in the direction of the flair as fast as he could killing other twos as he went, what was going on here why we're they swarming like this. The smell hit him almost before the aura, death, and a level four, tonight just got interesting. Martin began jumping to find the high ground to get a good view of what he was running in to, he saw a swarm of demons attacking one figure as two more already dead were devoured.

Martin focused on the downed fellow reaper that he could still help. He drove down again and formulated a plan as he landed. One option he could try and hope he didn't harm his fellow reaper, but he hadn't practiced it in a while, still couldn't hurt to try. A spirit shockwave strike could work, get close to his fellow reaper and strike just right to disperse the swarm enough to give him time to check the other reapers condition. Practiced felt warm and eager in his hand as he charged forward focus energy in to the blade and around the other reaper. He released the energy and felt his sheath explode at the point of his blade. Martin was worried about that but would have to think about it later, because his attack had worked he jumped in to the fray next to reaper that had been getting attacked.

"Hey, get up, what's going on?" Martin shook the shoulder of the guy that was lying on the ground. "C'mon, get up you're not dead and this situation looks hairy so I could use some help. So wake up!" Martin was nervous, and surrounded, and also hoping the guy he had just saved would be able to get up and help him.