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Down in the corpse ravine of Claire Voyagira’s basement, Andrew Knifeman’s body lay, growing increasingly still. As this was occurring, next to his carcass, a shimmering shape emerged out of the aether, slowly solidifying. It was Death, come to retrieve his soul, or something along those lines. Death poked at Andrew with his scythe until he groaned and said, “What is… who are… wh-…”
“Yeah yeah whatever.” Death pulled out a bottle of scotch and took a sip. “I’m Death. I’m here to carry your soul to the next stage of life.” Death was part of the trinity of people known as the Snuff Sodality, employed at Xyxlfrfd Corp under the Universe. The SS… nevermind, let’s not abbreviate that. The Snuff Sodality always claimed to be “carrying souls to the next stage of life,” but really, they were just eliminating them. There was no afterlife, after all. In fact, Claire’s religion, Nefueniddism, one of the only true ones, was also one of the only faiths to have no belief in life after death.
“Oh, really?” Andrew’s soul said, wide-eyed with happiness. “I’m a Catholic, and I always knew the day would come when I was proven right!” He was surprisingly chipper considering he was just gruesomely sacrificed to a pagan god.
“Uh…” Death glanced around nervously. “Yeah, I’m Catholic Death.” He swigged more scotch.
“Do I get to go to heaven now?” Andrew asked.
“Yeah sure.” Death picked up his scythe and swung at Andrew with great force, cleaving his soul in half and quickly evaporating it. His last words were “Ohhh what the hell man?”
Death looked down at Andrew’s lifeless body. It was hard to tell what emotion he felt, considering his skull-head, but it didn’t seem like anything good. He took another drink.
Meanwhile, the second member of the Snuff Sodality was reaping a different soul, specifically Will Recherche, the ill-fated taxi driver. The soul-reaper you’re reading about materialized next to Will’s body and waved politely to Will’s newly-emerged soul. Will looked at the other fellow with a bit of confusion, seeing as the last few minutes (in both senses) of his life were a rollercoaster of emotions. He said, “What is going on here?”
“You have perished, Will. I am a member of the Snuff Sodality, whose job is to deliver souls to their final resting places.”
“Oh… well I was an atheist, but I guess that was wrong. What religion was true, after all?”
“Nefueniddism.”
“Hm. Hadn’t heard of that one.”
“There is no afterlife in it. Sorry, Will.”
“That’s ok.” That soul-reaper proceeded to eliminate Will’s soul quickly and efficiently.
The last member of the Snuff Sodality, Mike Soulslash, wasn’t on duty at the moment, but I may as well describe him anyways. He was likely the most effective reaper of the three, at least partially due to his muteness, which allowed him to skip the endless philosophical diatribes he had to engage in for each soul he had to reap. He usually just ignored everything they said and eliminated them immediately. For some reason, despite his extremely fitting last name, he tended to go mononymously by Mike. Idiot.