DEATH SULKED MOODILY as he leaned back on his seat by the Table of Four, his posture slouched and slackened while his long slender fingers toyed with a wooden pencil on the table. His three brothers, Conquest, Famine and War, were all arguing about the party from a year before and all the troubles it had caused in the mortal realm.
“That party might have been a glorious one, but there weren’t supposed to be any survivors!” War roared, slamming his fist against the table as Death barely even darted his silvery eyes over.
“No one is going to believe in silly little fairy tales conjured up by a few people, Wilhelm,” Conquest rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.
“Those few people that lived happens to be angels and our resident evil’s sweetheart.”
At the mention of Addison, Death perked up, his eyes widening just the slightest as he raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. All three other men turned to look at the final addition to their gang as if waiting for him to burst into defense. Instead, all Death did was to slink further back into his seat, yawning slightly.
“Resident evil?” Death asked, shaking his head slightly as he allowed himself to let out a low chuckle. “Now that’s a new title I’ve never heard of.”
Calmly, Death placed both of his hands on the armrest of his seat, pushing himself up to his feet before he started to pace the marble room with a certain air of sinister serenity. The soles of his leather shoes clicked softly along with each step he took, resonating along the room with silence as his background vocals.
“You’re surprisingly calm for someone that lost the game,” Famine spoke up, having previously been quiet and withdrawn from the argument. “You’ve never lost.”
“That’s right,” Death nodded once, a smirk slithering its way onto his handsome face. “I’ve never lost a single game.”
And he stopped in his steps, standing in front of a large wooden cabinet before he flung the doors open. A large wailing sound filled the room as Famine winced slightly, eyeing his brother cautiously and examining his every step. From the top to the bottom, the vast cupboard held exactly twenty-nine glass jars, all sealed tightly shut. Inside each was a miniature figure of a gender neutral human, a mannequin-like figure almost. There was no face, no features, no distinct body shape, no hair, no variating color. All of them glowed a soft pale green and were standing stiff and still. And yet, all of them were souls of women Death had previously collected.
“Twenty-nine parties before the last, and twenty-nine souls I’ve collected.” He picked up a random glass jar, examining its contents before turning around to face the table. “And yet I’ve lost the game to the only one I truly ever wanted in this collection.”
“There were many opportunities for you to have killed the Pilediah girl.” Conquest piped up, turning his chair slightly. “You just couldn’t take it.”
“Haven’t you heard?” War laughed, throwing his head back slightly from the chuckle. “Addison Pilediah is a special girl in his eyes, Calvin. She can’t just be killed by a single knife to the throat; he wouldn’t allow it. He’s in lo-”
“That’s enough,” Death snapped, his sharp eyes darting over to Conquest before shooting him a glare that would’ve sent a mortal six feet underground. Ever so casually, Death placed the jar back to its original position before locking the cupboard shut with a click, moving away from it and back to his seat. As he sat down, a brilliant (in his own opinion) plan filled his mind and a sinister grin creeped his lips. “My brothers, the game is not yet over for us.”
The others edged in, all curious to know what Death had in store for the mortal girl this time. After all, Death had known the girl for most of her life. It’s just that she didn’t remember it. Their reunion would be something that could raise Hell, which was their domain. And outrageous parties were exactly what the four lived for.
“Time to start round two.”