The Reaper's Ruin

CHAPTER ONE

"She's here again."

"I heard she'll go with whoever has the NOS."

"Dude, totally. I heard that last time she was here, she went in The Ricer."

"Seriously? That's taking it way too far. Does she have a death wish or something?"

The voices that could be heard over revving engines was enough for him. Whoever this girl was, this was why he'd been summoned here. Ryker stalked through the crowd. In all of his time alive, he had never been wrong about a Call.

This one was so obvious it was painful—but then it begged the question: what was up with this girl, and why was she so eager to die?

It didn't matter. It never had before. He had been in ever scenario you could think of, playing out a human's demise. He had been on the battle field, aiming the gun at the Caller's head. He had helped drown someone in a pool of beer. He had helped push a whale bone through some guy's throat.

That was just what he did.

He helped people meet their time.

It was his job. It was his livelihood. It was the very reason he was here today, trying to find this girl that everyone was talking so much about. It wasn't until he laid eyes on the person that he knew it was their time. He got the call, came, scoped it out, found the person, and finished the job.

Without him, people would live to be in their eighties—and that just wasn't right, was it?

"Hey," he said to the group of guys. They were surrounding a bright yellow car, vaping their brains out. "Who are you talking about? This is my first time at one of these things."

"Just this girl—no one knows anything about her, though. She doesn't talk much."

"What's she doing here?"

It was dark, so it was a little hard to see, but the guy who spoke next had a think brown beard, and his hair was pulled back into a bun. Ryker didn't understand this latest trend, but he wasn't one to judge. Eventually, he would be watching this guy die. What he did until that time was of no difference to Ryker.

"She just shows up, scopes out the cars, and picks one to go racing in."

"Alright," Ryker said, not really understanding why that was a big deal.

"She picks the jankiest cars, man. The last time she was here, she picked The Ricer. He has rod knock hella bad."

"Hella," Ryker repeated. Then he shook his head. He wasn't here to question why this scene talked a certain way. He was here to make sure that someone died.

"Hey, man. What are you driving?" Another one in the group, this one a blonde with no beard and no bun, spoke up. He looked relatively normal, except for the fact that he took a puff of the vape and blew the cloud almost right into his face.

"What?" Were they actually trying to talk to him?

"What did bring? Are you racing? If you're interested in a race with the girl, I can probably hook you up." The blonde nodded his head like he was a cool son of a bitch. Ryker kept the laugh to himself. Pathetic humans. They weren't "cool" by any means—but they were helping him, so he wouldn't mock them to their faces.

"I didn't plan on racing. But I do want to meet this girl I've been hearing about."

"Yo, if she weren't crazy, she'd be pretty hot."

The other guys nodded and jeered, giving each other slaps on the back. Ryker barely kept the eye roll to himself. Seriously. The way people acted when they were in large groups was...idiotic.