Death came to Rory Baker, but he didn't make much notice of it. After all, there was much work to do and a little thing like a cloaked skeleton wasn't going to stop that. Still, have looming over his shoulder for a few minutes, Death became an annoying presence.
"What do you want?" Rory said, writing something about a shooting. Death and him went back a long way. It was frightening at first, but there was something about having Death as a friend that was oddly comforting. Not that he wouldn't take him when it was time, but something else.
"I need your help." Death walked around the desk, phasing through one of Rory's coworkers. The woman paused for a second, shuttered, and looked at Rory. All he could do was shrug and it was apparently enough for her.
Rory let Death stand there for a few minutes while he worked more on his story. Some idiot shot a cop because of poor reasoning skills, something he always figured was a increasingly spreading mental illness rather than something some people had. People were stupid and getting worse day by day.
Ah, Rory thought. That's why I like Death. He'll take me one day and I won't have to worry about all this.
"So?" Death said.
"So."
"You know, I never asked you about something. Something that has bothered me for some time now."
"What's that?"
Death looked out a window, like something was out there watching him. But as long as Rory had known him, no one else ever saw him. And yet he stared intently into the world.
"Despite knowing me, you honestly don't think there's anything supernatural going on?"
Rory laughed softly. No, I don't think so at all, he thought. But he decided to give it a little thought.
"No. Just because you exist, doesn't mean something 'otherworldly' is going on. Like I've always said, one man's magic is another man's science."
"So you just think having Death as a pal is just some undiscovered scientific thing?"
"Why not?"
Death noded and turned his head back to Rory.
And then the world went black.
Rory landed hard on his back, pain shooting up his body.