“Welcome to Death, Inc. Your supervisor will be here shortly, dear.” I blink, my mouth agape. Death, Inc.? A tall man walks from around the corner. He is dressed sharply in an expensive suit: charcoal grey, pinstripes, nice shoes. He does not extend his hand. “Good afternoon. I am Agent XV37. Welcome to Death, Inc.” “I am terribly sorry because there must be some confusion,” I stammer. “Did you say Death, Inc.?” “I did,” he smiles warmly. “Whether you know it, you are Apprentice IV29, and you... read more
