Chapter 13: Flunking Out of Life

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            "Siri, I'm not going to tell you again. Find me souls."

            "Behold!" Siri brought up a Wikipedia page again for Death.

           "You little..." Death glared at the results and growled. He fought the urge to crush the miniature device in his hand like a bug. Pressing a button again, he spoke into the i-Phone in a much more nastier tone. "Siri, find me Mason Hanes."

            "I found fifteen Masons a little ways from you."

            Death scrolled down the page, his cloak whipping wildly around as the wind howled. From Siri's results, the Grim Reaper found a bunch of construction organizations and crappy restaurants he would never go to.

            "Fuck you, Siri. If this is your way of getting me back for the whole Steve Jobs incident, then I hope you like flying." Death chucked his phone off the roof of the building, watching it dissapear thousands and thousands of feet away into a busy street. "I'll just do this the old fashioned way."

            Death held his massive scythe out in front of him and energy immediately surged from the tip of the blade, shooting out with a sonic boom, and blanketing the city of Chicago in a thin layer of blue light that only Death could see.

            "Find me Mason Hanes!" Death snarled. The wind kicked up, sending him soft whistles from all directions. Souls. He concentrated on their sounds, plucking out the weakest links. His power was complex enough to pinpoint where each and every soul was located in Chicago.

            Including Mason Hanes.

            His scythe began to glow and heat up, buzzing loudly.

            “Good girl, Scytherella,” Death whispered affectionately, caressing his scythe with a free hand. Thunder cracked the barriers of the sky and the blue beam of light over the city was rapidly sucked back into Death's scythe all at once. "Who needs that bitch Siri when I have my sexy, sharp, and kinky blade." He kissed his scythe, adding a bit of tongue. "It's time to have a little fun now, baby.."

            Death sprinted foward and dove off the building as if diving into a pool, massive black wings unleashing from his back to soften the landing, arms and legs bent slightly for impact. He dropped, and dropped, and dropped, then landed on the empty pavement below on all fours, the ground trembling wildly beneath his weight.

            Had he been allowed to fly, Death would have just flown to his destination, but instead, he had to take his motorcycle like a pathetic human.

            He even had to climb up the building in order to evilly loom over the city and then drop down like a badass.

            He hated being grounded by Lucifer.

            Death kicked off from the curb with his motorcycle, blending in with the night as he rode through the streets of Chicago, weaving quickly between cars, loudly revving the black beast between his muscular legs.

              A few houses away from his destination, he pulled the motorcycle to the side of the street. The crisp, cold autumn air blanketed him, making him only a mere shadow that would be overlooked amongst his surroundings.

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