Chapter Text
"Finally, the new spawn has awoken."
Opening your eyes, you instinctively go to blink in order to adjust to the harsh lighting, but find that you don't need to.
You seem to be standing in the middle of an office, a man in a suit and yellow bowtie sitting behind a large desk in front of you. The cat on his lap is staring at you, its tail flicking back and forth as the man pets it.
"I am honoured to welcome you into our world, spawn… Uh, hang on," the man trails off, adjusting his spectacles and flipping through the heavy book in front of him for a moment. "Ah, yes, spawn number 30. I am Fate, the keeper of world order."
It takes a few seconds of awkward silence for you to realise that he is waiting for a response, and once you do it takes a few more seconds for you to gather yourself enough to speak.
"Hello, a pleasure to meet you, Fate," you say, not quite grasping what's going on but willing to go along with it. Maybe this Fate will tell you what's going on if you're patient.
"Oh, a polite Grim Reaper for a change? This is a good start. Welcome to your new job as overseer of Cosmopois City subdivision #4, the Sun County wine region!"
The cat gives a loud meow, and it's almost like it's also welcoming you.
"I have important business to attend to, so I'll keep this brief. Your job will be to choose humans who have to die. Pretty standard stuff." There's another moment of silence, but just as you think to reply he continues. "As it is your first day, try to get to know the system and try not to destroy the world, yes?"
He chuckles to himself, and you feel like there's a joke you're not quite getting.
He seems to realise that you're not laughing along with him, because he clears his throat and brushes imaginary dirt off his shoulder. "Clear?"
Blinking, you contemplate what to say. It's not very clear at all to you what exactly it is you're supposed to be doing, but if he's busy then it's probably best to leave. It can't be too hard to figure it out on your own. "As crystal."
"Delightful. Remember, the fate of the world lies in your hands. I'll be seeing you, Reaper."
Sensing that you're being dismissed, you turn around and find an elevator, its door opening as soon as you lay eyes on it. After one last glance at Fate, you leave.
—
A strange mixture of instinct and innate knowledge guides you down to the office floor and through the maze of cubicles, finding your own desk as easily as breathing.
Only you don't breathe.
Best not to dwell on it.
As soon as you sit at your desk, the small, strange machine on one end hums, two files materialising in front of you. You briefly glance at the files, but don't pick them up yet. Something tells you it would be best to open the piece of paper with SPAWN MAIL written on it first.
The letter is addressed to Grim, which you assume must be your name. Or perhaps it is every spawn's name? Not that it matters, of course. It doesn't affect your job in any way.
Reading through the letter, it says that the files on your desk are of humans who are in life-threatening situations within your domain. Today's quota is simply to kill one human, and to send Fate the files by fax once you're done. You guess the machine on your desk must be the fax machine, which is one mystery solved.
There is also a phone on the desk, which when you look at it only has one app, called Epitaph. When you press on it there are only two posts; one from "TechBros" and another from "ScienceToday." You put down the phone.
Finally, you read over the files. It should be easy; all you have to do is pick one of them to die. Simple. Fate said so himself.
Victor Yashin
Age: 47
Safety Inspector.
The first person seems to be almost perfect; a hard worker as a nuclear power plant inspector who is good at their job. You are already fairly confident that this is who you will be sparing, but figure you may as well read the other file as well. It is your job, after all.
Ewald Buddy
Age: 32
Neurosurgeon.
Oh. This is harder than you'd thought.
An accomplished brain surgeon who's been doing their job for over fourteen years, since they were merely eighteen. Both of these people contribute to society in productive ways, doing jobs that save lives. Neither of them deserves to die, in your opinion.
But one of them must.
You stare down at the papers in front of you, contemplating what to do. There are many factors you could base your decision on. Age, job, personal details… At the end of Ewald's file it mentions that he is addicted to adrenaline and takes personal risks, but does he take risks during his job? If so, he could botch a surgery.
Maybe that is why his file was given to you? It's hard to say.
Picking up the Marker of Death, you mark for Ewald for death and for Victor to live. Pressing a button on the fax machine, the two files dematerialise in front of you.
You feel a strange twinge of regret, but shake it off. You made the best choice.
Getting up from your desk, you head towards the elevator.
—
Once again standing in front of Fate's desk, you wait patiently for him to finish his work and notice you. You could try to get his attention, but he's probably busy with important work. You don't mind waiting.
You're not sure how long it takes for him to notice you; time doesn't feel… linear, exactly. It could have been a month or an instant, and you can't be bothered to dwell on which it was. You have all the time in the world, so ultimately it doesn't matter.
"Oh, the new Death spawn! Welcome. How was your first day?"
Fate genuinely seems pleased to see you, which is a pleasant surprise. For some reason you were expecting him to be indifferent to you. Surely he oversees many more Reapers, so it's not like you're anything special.
It's probably just because you're new.
"It went… Okay, considering."
Considering what your job is.
Fate seems to pick up the subtext, flashing you a knowing smile. "Ah, yes, I understand it can take some time to get acclimated. Everyone goes through that phase."
You think to ask if it ever gets easier, but decide against it. Obviously it will, you're literally made for this job after all.
Fate flips through his book, and hums in satisfaction. "I see exactly one person perished today, as tasked. Did you figure out the best choice?"
"Neither of them deserved to die," you blurt out. Horrified at yourself, you stutter, trying to think of a way to take it back, but Fate doesn't look angry.
"That is true, in a general sense. People are complex individuals with hopes, dreams and dynamic thought patterns, each one trying their best. Yet all meet their end, eventually. It is simply your job to decide when. Any further questions?"
Deciding not to try your luck twice in one day, you shake your head and take your leave.
The cat watches you go.
—
The next day you find yourself back at your desk with three files in front of you. Today's letter says the quota is for one human with an engineering or industrial background to die— a much more concrete rule than yesterday's.
You don't even have to choose which person to mark for death this time, there is only one file for someone with an industrial background. You don't even have to read the files, the personal details are irrelevant.
You find yourself reading them anyway.
The person you are going to have die is a chemist that has been working in the pharmaceutical industry for decades and is trying to find a decelerator for ageing. Important work for sure, imagine if accomplished scientists never had to die. They could conduct studies over much longer periods, could devote more of their time to developing life saving technology. Or doctors, for that matter. Imagine how many more lives could be saved every day.
The other two files are of a cobbler and a teacher that enjoys playing dungeons and dragons. Important jobs to be sure, but they don't hold a candle to the chemist. It doesn't make sense to you why the person with the more important job has to die, but it isn't your place to understand it. Your job is simply to follow orders.
You still feel the twinge of regret when you press the button on the fax machine.
—
"Ah, Grim! How was the second day on the job?"
It was awful.
"It was okay," you reply.
"Ah, good, good. Did you follow the rules properly?"
What even is 'properly'? There was only one outcome the rules allowed.
"I did."
"Great! Yes, everything seems to be in order," he replies, not looking down at his book. He must have checked it before you came in. "Continue the good work and try not to let the job get you down, we could use more spawns with your attitude. Rest well, you will need it. See you soon."
You hear the cat purr softly as you turn to leave.
—
The next few days fly by, and before you know it it's already evaluation day.
Your favourite days so far have been the one with lots of rules, because you can treat it as a sort of puzzle. You've never done a puzzle before, but if you ever got to do one you'd want it to be like those days. Except without the actual death at the end, of course.
The days where there are little to no rules, however… Well. All you can do is try your best.
(Should anyone have this much power?)
As you take the elevator up to Fate's office, you expect to be feeling nervous. But you're not.
He's been happy with your work every day previous, so today should be no different. Honestly, you're coming to like fate quite a lot. His cheerful demeanour even bleeds through into the little handwritten notes that are always on your desk, and you wonder if he writes them for every Grim he has in his sector.
On the fourth day he did try to trip you up by putting in one of the file's descriptions to mark that person to live, but you don't take it personally. It's a good thing that he wants his workers to be attentive.
In the end he said he was proud of you, saying you could even make it to middle management. An unusual tingle had run down your spine at that, and your permanent smile had felt a tad more genuine.
When the elevator doors open you find Fate already waiting for you.
"Ah, Grim, it's good to see you again," he says once you reach his desk. "Before we move on to the evaluation, I must ask, how have you found it so far? Not too difficult making the difficult choices?" There's the usual mirth in his eyes that signals when he's made a joke you don't quite understand, and his cat makes a soft purring noise as if laughing.
He waits while you mull over the question, ever patient.
How do you feel?
"It's… difficult, making decisions when I have no rules. The files don't show all the information on the person, and even if they did, who's to say a criminal's life is less important than a doctor's? I don't find the system… fair."
This is the most you've said at once and Fate seems delighted rather than irritated that you've answered with a more complicated answer than your usual 'it's going well.'
(Why are you embarrassed?)
"Perhaps it is best that you find it hard, it will keep you thinking about every choice you make. Hold off the indifference for a while," he says, and you wonder what he means by indifference. "As for the system, do try not to fret. It has been refined and developed over aeons, longer than humans have even been around. We know what we are doing."
You nod, but somehow don't feel very reassured. Just because a system is old, does that really make it right?
"Ah, I do apologise for taking up so much of your time. Before you go, are there any questions you would like to ask me?"
Go on, ask more about the files. You like rules, right? Maybe there's a point system or something, there must be a reason why they give you those files over anyone else's.
"No, thank you. Have a good night," you answer, and turn to leave. The cat purrs when you enter the elevator.
(Coward.)