Slow nights are rare in my line of work. For some reason, I’m always in demand after dark. Don’t know why – but it’s always been so. I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to do the job but still, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate an off night when I get it.

Tonight was a slow night so I decided to go into the city. I was drawn to the raucous blur of humanity that jostled and shoved on the heaving pavement, the discordant buzz of so many voices in so many different languages that was like opera to me.

I felt most alive in the midst of such chaos. Which was ironic, considering who I am. Considering what I do for a living. You know me as “Death” but me, I just call myself Jeff.

As I walked down a dark alley, admiring the way the clouds shrouded the moon, I heard the siren call of a new assignment. It came in from the downtown district – another drug overdose. I sighed. This had apparently become de rigueur, at least in the youth. What a waste. There had to be more inventive ways to end a life.