Description
"...because Death they say, it demands to be felt." ~*~ In this world, there is one thing that is certain - a written law carved into stone. It is a schedule no one could ever run away from. One may delay it but as we are made from dust, in dust we must return. Death. Some may choose how they die. Others, the unfortunate ones, they do not. Their fate rests into the palms of another person's hands. In the underground society, where criminals lurk their way in the shadows, The Grim gets to choose who will die by his 'Scythe' or not. With his reapers, he was invincible. Dressed in a black tux, they say, The Grim leaves a red rose behind just before he kills his prey. It is his brand. It is his own way of saying 'You have been warned'. A warning that makes the end of a lifeline. Because when they kill, they leave the scene spotless. Unflawed. Spick-and-span. Not a drip of blood nor a mark can be seen. One's reality will turn into nothingness. A speck of dust blown away into the wind and gone. Or so they thought. I was that one blind spot they have overlooked - a single soul who survived amidst the brutality they carried in their hands. I will assure their fates will rest upon my mercy. They may had drawn out the gun before me but I will definitely, this time, be the one to pull out the trigger first.
Prologue
