Christopher Waller would open his eyes and find himself sitting on a bench. Looking around he would realize he was sitting in some sort of waiting room.
Across from him was another bench with two people sitting on it. He didn't have long to take in much of his surroundings when he was waved over by a blond woman behind a window. Chris stood up and wandered over. "Name?" The nasally voiced woman asked without looking up from her computer.
"Uh..Christopher Waller? Hey, do you know why I'm-" Chris began to ask, only for the woman to interrupt him. "Take a number and have a seat right over there, sir."
Chris blinked but took a small piece of paper with a number printed on it: 845.
"Is this like a doctor's appointment I didn't know I had?" Chris tried once again to get an explanation out of the woman.
"Just sit right over there, we'll be right with you." The woman replied, still not looking up at him.
Sitting down on the bench once more, Chris started to talk to the other 'patients'. "Do you guys know where we are?"
"Doctor?"
"Dentist?"
"Revenue Office?"
It seemed no one else knew where any of them were. His number was called before he had more time to think on it. He stood up and proceeded through the door, almost as if on autopilot.
Before him was an almost courtroom setting. There was a row of bespectacled men glowering down at him from their seats. He stood there before these 'judges' waiting for one of them to explain what was going on.
"Christopher Waller. Age 23. Committed suicide on January 2020." The one in the middle recited in a monotone voice.
Upon hearing this, Chris began to suffer a very severe migraine. Flashes of his own apparent suicide by gun flashed in his brain...and then the pain seemed to subside as he looked up in shock.
"Uhhh...where am I?" He was starting to piece it together, this was some sort of afterlife. Hopefully he wouldn't be going to a certain fiery torture in a minute.
"You are hereby sentenced to serve as a Reaper in the Retrieval Division of the Grim Reaper Dispatch. You will reap the souls of humans and review their cinematic records until such time as your final sin has been forgiven. May God have mercy on you." The row of stern men recited his 'sentence'.
Chris blinked in confusion, "Uhh...what?"
Christopher's vision of the far away 'judges' went blurry. Holding his hand up to his eyes, he would realize that he had somehow become near sighted within the span of the last few seconds.
"The hell....?" He muttered, before he felt a pair of glasses being perched on his nose. "Uhh..." He would see he was definitely NOT in that oppressive courtroom anymore.
"Thanks will not be necessary. They are merely the same as we give all reaper trainees." A snide and stoic voice said from behind him. Turning around, he would see a man wearing a dark suit with slicked back hair. The man was wearing spectacles and had chartreuse phosphorescent eyes.
"My name is William T. Spears. I shall be overseeing your training as a reaper." William pushed up his glasses with his fingers.
A small wooden sickle was placed in Chris' hands. "Wait...is this it? I was expecting a reaper's scythe to be more...intimidating."
Before William could address that, a familiar chainsaw was revved. "Oh yes! The newbie must've expected to get something like this!!" Grelle Sutcliff waved his chainsaw around.
Christopher's eyes widened and he grew excited. "Woah! How come you got a chainsaw as yours?!"
"Custom scythes require filling out the necessary paperwork. Trainees such as yourself will have to work with what you are provided." William sighed as he dragged Chris away from Grelle.
"And I thought grim reapers were skeletons wearing hoods. Where'd that myth come from?" Chris questioned Will.
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