Don't wear a plague mask for corona I ONC 2021

Chapter 3: Don't believe in everything you see

The mini-quarters took one large building in the center of Stockholm, as he'd been informed of the name of this human settlement, and were home to 23 reapers. The information imparted to him also included the ranks of reapers, last decade's most notable accomplishments, and a description of their long-standing tradition to roam these parts of Europe. Kuolema was pretty sure he saw that word written on the map of Earth.

The reaper in charge was Anders, who rectified Kuolema after using the wrong name to address him in a painfully long explanation of hereditary names. And the reason why Kuolema needed to be informed of three generations of reapers taking the holy name of Anders was beyond his comprehension.

Anders only paused in his quest to annoy Kuolema to death with his exhaustive monologues when he adjusted the tie holding his long, blond hair in a sleek, high ponytail. After the third adjustment, Kuolema quit counting.

"...I used the female body for a while, but after being offered the opportunity to take over as the head commander along with the name, I just had to take the most prominent artificial body we had in reserve."

Why did Anders have to impart his whole life story to him? Did it even matter that body and the name match?

This guy reminded him of...

Of who? It was just a fleeting thought, escaping his mind promptly after being formed, and Kuolema couldn't bring it back for the life of him. What was going on? He stared hard at the tall reaper still trying to talk Kuolema's ear off. Who did this idiot remind him of? And why had Kuolema felt like he lost all air for a moment there? And why, just why had he thought that the color of the hair was not matching? What did it not match?

Kuolema shook his head as he internally sighed. It was time to stop this blattering fool so he growled low. It worked, though he remembered Saru's habitual adaptation to this type of non-verbal command and realized he would actually need to start punishing his underlings for being infuriating and trying his misplaced patience.

A pixie-like female reaper approached them holding a tray with food and drinks. "Master, would you care for some refreshments? I understand you had a tiring trip so I prepared some."

"Yes, indeed," Anders insisted. "Please, help yourself."

Kuolema shrugged and took the first thing from the tray just to shut them up. He then turned to stare at the large screen taking most of the sheer white wall to observe the live dead map. The signal had appeared and disappeared roughly seven times, enough to determine that he was in the right place. Sadly, it had stopped glowing some minutes ago leaving them all in the dark where the final destination would be.

Anders had assured him that most of the flights arrived here.

Which wasn't as reassuring as Anders would like to think considering Kuolema's recent unlucky streak.

As he saw Anders opening his big mouth again, Kuolema declared, "I still have the centennial report to write. I'll stay near."

And he went, stuffing whatever food he'd grabbed in his mouth, not even tasting it.

He hated waiting.

-.. . .- - ....

The air was fresh, fresher than at Kuolema's last location and the sun was warm on his skin. It was warm, but not overly so. He wasn't the only one in a coat as far as he could see.

Taking a stroll through the streets while studying his path not to get lost, he noticed that the buildings were far more colorful than in Milan. He passed a park finned with trees and at its furthermost end found a seating place.