"The main problem we face is a lack of information."

"Well. Yes. Obviously."

"I'm trying to be serious here. Care to pay attention?"

"Go ahead then. I'm listening, aren't I?"

"First. Is Gantz."

"True enough-"

"Shut up and let me talk."

"Fine."

"Gantz. What is he? What is it? He appears human. Hooked up to and locked into a highly technical computer. Or perhaps a Gantz is a computer."

"What?"

"Consider this possibility. Foreign intelligences come to Earth, kidnap a human being, and hooks their brain up to a computer, or rather, transforms their brain into a computer. Given his complete lack of reflexive stimuli, I'd say this is the most likely scenario. Gantz was once human, and may, in some way still be. Perhaps he is a willing host, a liaison between our species and… others."

"What about the global conspiracy angle?"

"Don't start with that. You don't even believe it."

"It bears consideration, though."

"No. It doesn't. If humanity had that sort of technology and organization, we wouldn't be the one's chosen. There are better people for this sort of job than us. We didn't all used to be soldiers."

"But we are now."

"True, which leads me to a rather hopeful hypothesis; Gantz chooses us based on potential, not experience. However, this is contradicted by… numerous examples."

"Like the dog."

"Right."

"And that old man that one time."

"True. This leads me to believe that not only Gantz choose based on potential… but he also just occasionally likes to fuck with us."

"Gee, really?"

"Shut up. The question is, why?"

"Shits and giggles?"

"Yes, but who's? Maybe this is all some sort of cruel galactic entertainment."

"Bloodsport?"

"Exactly."

"Huh."

"That's only one theory, though. And there is evidence against it. There is evidence that what we do has an effect on something… larger. There's been incidents, you know."

"Yes, yes. I keep my eye on those sorts of things, too."

"Right, so, at least for the sake of our sanity, we can assume that what we do has some purpose."

"Right. So what's you big theory, then? Can we move this along?"

"Alright. Gantz is the product of some sort of universal… organization we can only assume that has Humanity's best interests at heart, or at least, would like to see our race continue to survive. The presence of extra-terrestrials on our planet threatens us with mass-hysteria as well as pre-tech-exposure."

"Pre-tech-exposure?"

"Witch hunt syndrome. You introduce suitably advanced technology, and it's indistinguishable from magic. Then all sorts of crazy shit starts happening. Massive destabilization of political structures, religious fanaticism, rioting, discontent, etcetera, etcetera. It's not pretty."

"Sounds nasty."

"Quite. So, for our own protection, this organization either manufactures or kidnapps an individual, in our case, Gantz, renders him into his current state, bestowing upon him slash it understanding of sophisticated alien technology and any other knowledge he needs to convince people to hunt down and kill aliens."

"Still doesn't explain while he's a jerk."

"Two possibilities in that regard. One, that the person that the organization kidnapped was a jerk to begin with and they didn't bother to over-write his personality. Or…"

"Or?"

"Well, this is just kind of a pet-theory of mine, but it's possible that Gantz is a conglomeration of humanity."

"What?"

"The organization observes us for some time, perhaps every single pre-space faring technology race in the universe as well, and compiles information about us. Then, constructs a being it feels is most similar to the greatest number of human beings and therefore capable of providing for our survival. He is essentially the average of humanity."

"Huh."

"Yeah. Not exactly great news."

"One question?"

"Yes?"

"You bother to ask Gantz about any of this?"

"I tried once. He just laughed in my face and called me annoying, know-it-all, slutty bitch."

"That's Gantz."

"Yeah. Too bad you can't sue an extra-terrestrial, god-like overseer for sexual harassment."

"True."

"… So."

"Yes?"

"Who do you think Gantz will be pulling down next?"

"Could be anyone, right? Could be a solid soldier, or a joke. We'll have to wait and see."

"Standard procedure then?"

"Yup."

The pain involved in dying varies upon the means with which it is enacted. However, no matter how a person is killed, there is some pain associated with it. It is impossible to have a completely painless death. Though, as far as death's go, I suppose mine wasn't that bad. Quick, anyway.

The number one cause of death in my age bracket it drunk driving. Consider that I don't drink, and my particular death drops off the goddamn bell curve pretty fast.

I died in a car accident. But not some drunk-driving accident. No, just a run-of-the-mill car accident. I'd been in three before that, none of them serious. But for some reason, I ran out of luck. My roommate was driving his little Civic as we jack-knifed into a Subaru. I am a living, or, rather, not so much living, warning about the dangers of SUV's.

The last thing I remember about my old life was my final thoughts.

Oh.

SHIT.

It doesn't go black. It just goes. Next thing I know, I'm sitting in a room with a pistol leveled at my forehead.

"You are now dead. Welcome to Purgatory."

The voice behind the pistol spoke slowly and surely. A masculine voice.

"You have two options, face the great beyond right here and now, or cooperate with us. What will it be?"

Was I expected to answer?

The pistol cocked.

"Cooperation!"

"Good."

The pistol pulled away from my forehead, back, and down to the side of a man dressed in a black suit. I was in a room. An apartment, by the looks of it, maybe a flat. There wasn't only the man in the black suit. There was a woman with long black hair, rimmed glasses, and a white lab coat. She spoke next.

"Always the flair for the dramatic."

"I do my best." Said the man in the suit.

An African American man in a hoodie and jeans who looked to be about my age was grinning at me.

"Sup, boy?" asked my fellow 18-25 year old.

"Uhm…" was all I managed.

There was another man, this one Asian, middle aged but still in great shape, reading a book. He didn't bother to acknowledge my existence. Two twins, a brother and a sister with red hair, were talking together in low voices.

The woman in the coat smiled at me, "Sorry for the scare, kid, but we have to take precautions against "being-a-dumb-fucker-itis."

"What?"

"She means, if you don't do what we tell you to do, you'll probably get us all killed, unless we kill you first. Dumb-fucker-itis. It's a goddamn disease, and we don't need to be getting infected."

"Brilliantly put, Max."

"You know. I put that deep shit down like it is."

Then, I noticed something very strange.

Well, relatively speaking, I guess.

A large, black sphere in the middle of the room with the words "Enough Chit-Chat, Fuckers." Emblazoned on it in green, courier lettering.

"Uhm, what's the-"

"First rule is, don't ask questions until we tell you it's ok to ask questions," snapped the man in the black suit.

I began to hear faint music, it sounded like something I had heard in my childhood. They lyrics were simplistic, the melody contrived. It took me a few minutes to realize that the music was coming from the sphere. Everyone had turned to look at it, the man with the book had set it down to stare at the sphere. Also, the words had faded from its surface.

As the song came to a close, more words appeared on the surface, "Your dead now, fuckers. How long you live depends on me."

"You know, we all realize this by now, Gantz. You can give it a break," piped in the woman in the lab coat, cheekily. As if in response, the ball sprung open in four directions, revealing rows of firearms and black cases.

The man in the black stepped up quickly to the sphere, and began pulling the black cases out of it and handing them to people around the room, who had lined up to get them.

"All right, people, standard drill. Men's dressing rooms to the right, women to the left. Suit up quickly, and let's get this done. Aaron Jacobsen?"

I was surprised by the sound of my own name, "Uh, yes?"

The man handed me a black case, "In there, you will find a black, body-tight suit. You will need to take off all your clothes in order to put it on. It is the only thing that will keep you alive. Put it on, or I will shoot you." He gestured behind me to a room the other men had gone into. I followed Max, the kid my age.

"Best listen up, new boy. Take off all your shit and put that suit on. No one's gonna be checkin' out your package or nothin'."

The rest of the men started stripping off their clothes, the man in the black suit was glaring at me, the gun a few inches from his fingertips. I decided to do as they said.

The suit wasn't so much a suit as a second layer of skin. I realized that it fit me, specifically me, almost perfectly.

We proceeded back into the room with the strange black sphere in it before the man formerly in a black suit started talking, "All right, Gantz, show us what we're dealing with."

"Sure, jackass. Why don't I do that? You know what? Fuck it. Just go kill this fucker: " Green letting appeared on the ball's surface again, and below the words were a picture of what looked to be an old Asian man. Underneath the portrait was the caption: 'Ramen Alien.' Followed by "Likes: Noodles," and Dislikes: "Too much soy sauce."

"Would it kill you to give us some quality intel, for once?" asked the woman wearing glasses.

"Alright people, looks like we're getting a single. Keep cloaked and stay tight. Haro, you're on rifle," he handed a large, rifle-like gun to the Asian man, who took it without complaint along with a smaller, pistol-like gun.

"Sarah, and I will take point, nobody open fire until we give the signal." He handed a pistol-like gun and a y-shaped one to the woman wearing glasses before taking the same himself.

"Twins, you guys do your thing." The twins picked up pistols, along with long, curved blades that seemed to crackle with energy.

"Last, new Kid and Max, you'll take support. Try not to get killed."

"What?!" said the kid who I assumed was Max.

"Just show him the ropes, will you, Max?" said the woman I assumed to be Sarah in a saccharine voice.

Max grunted before taking a pistol and a y-shaped gun for him and handing a pair to me.

"Rock and roll, bitches," said the black man as he secured the y shaped gun to the side of his leg.

Suddenly, multi-colored rainbows of light shot from the sphere and onto people's heads. They began to seem to dissolve, but none seemed horrified at this gruesome seeming-death. In fact, they were all rather complacent, and was it happening to me to? Oh god, am I going to die, Oh God Oh God Oh-

This time, it really did go black for a second.

A single, terror-filled second.

And then I was in an alley. A dark, dirty alley way, somewhere inside a suburb. Next to me stood the young black man, Max. He was grinning at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Freaky-ass shit, huh?"

"Uh. Yeah."

He laughed a bit and slapped me lightly on the back before looking intently at something on the back of his right arm. After a moment, he looked up and spoke again, this time much more serious.

"Aiight. Time to run yo' ass through the basics. Don't go askin' a lot of "freakin' out" questions, but let me know if you don't understand what I'm talkin' 'bout, Aiight?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"Aiight. Here's the deal. We gotta cap an alien. Why? So he doesn't cap our ass first. Luckily, he's pretty far away, so we got some time to get yo' ass up to speed."

"Aliens?"

"Don't start with that shit. Yes. Aliens. Yes. Creepy crawly fuckers that will skullfuck you in the head if you let them. It's not fuckin' pretty, so shut the fuck up and pay attention."

He wasn't playing around. We walked over to me and turned my right arm over so I saw a small screen on it. There was what looked like a map of the local area, as well as a button that seemed to have embedded itself into my flesh.

"This a map, aiight? Those lines and shit represent walls, buildings and stuff. Those yellow dots, those be our homies. You see that red one? That be the bitch they gonna go kill. First lesson is, if I don't finish mah lesson before we see an alien, you press that button. It'll make you invisible. Then you run, and you hide. Got it?"

"Sure. Press button, run and hide."

"Aiight, next up is the suit. Now this suit is some crazy-ass shit. It'll deflect just about every kind of bullet or other fucking shit, and it lets you do some crazy-ass jumpin', throwin', and just generally makes you into goddamn superman. Jus' remember, you do too much crazy shit in a short amount of time, and you'll break this shit. You'll know it's broken because these yellow things," He gestured towards several yellow circles on the suit, "Will pop open and leak blue shit. That happens, run and hide. No exceptions."

"Right. Run and hide."

He smiled again, "You'll find the bulk of this shit is learnin' how to keep yo' ass alive. You don't need to be coward and shit, in fact, you gonna have to be pretty brave, but you don't have to be stupid, either."

"Right. Thanks."

"No problem, boy. Next up, we got gats. My favorite part personally."

He unholstered the pistol and raised it up, I did the same.

"Now first rule of using any gat, is don't be pointing at somethin' you don't want dead. You ever point a gun at someone on this crew, I will personally fuck you up beyond all reason. Ya heard?"

"Right, no shooting anyone in the back."

"Good. Now first up, we got the X Gun." He gestured towards the pistol.

"Now, this is some more crazy alien shit, so it don't work like a regular gat. Sure, you squeeze the trigger to light shit up and all, but there's a couple differences. Try shootin' that garbage can over there."

"Now?"

"No time like the present."

I pointed the gun at the garbage can, hoping that I'd be able to hit it. Somehow, I thought that how good a shot I was would probably determine if I lived through the night. I squeezed the trigger, and the gun seemed to spring open into the shape of an X, probably where it got it's name, glow for a minute, and then return to normal.

Then, nothing really happened.

"Uhm…" I began, turning towards Max.

"Waaait for it, playa."

Suddenly, the garbage can exploded. As well as the ground under it. And the wall behind it. I ducked down and shouted out in surprise. Max was laughing.

"Man, I tell you, that look on a new kid's face never get's old! Man, bet you weren't expectin' that shit!"

"No. I wasn't."

"Sorry man, but you wouldn't have believed me if I told you."

"So, there's a delay on the gun?"

"Yeah. It fires alright when you squeeze the trigger, but it don't explode like that for a good 5 seconds. So, if you wanna cap someone, either you gotta really know how to lead them, have them running straight at you, or have them stay still for a good five seconds. It's tough shit, but it's fuckin' amazin' if you pull that shit off. Anyway, next up we got the Y Gun."

Still grasping the X Gun, he pulled out the Y.

"Now, this little puppy's for the end game. Once you got a bitch weak, you shoot this at him, and a bunch of net's will snag his ass. Make sure he's weak, or he'll just break outta that shit. Shoot it at him again, and Gantz'll do his little teleport trick on his ass. Don't ask me where the hell Gantz sends 'em."

"Makes sense, enough."

"Aiight, just one mo' thing, that button below your left ear, press it when I tell you to to get into the comm, It's how we talk to eachother."

"What, no telepathy?"

He looked at me quizzically.

"A joke."

He shrugged, "Whateva, cracka." He checked the map again, as did I. The yellow dots were closing in on the red.

"Looks like they got this shit down under control, but I guess we should get over there, just in case, Aiight?"

"Uhm, I don't suppose we could just sit it out?"

He looked at me like I was insane, then laughed.

"Tell you what, brotha. You live through tonight, you will never want to say those words again. Now come on, we got work to do."

What could I do? I followed him.

"Thing is, we regulate on this shit, nowhatI'msayin'? we keep this shit tight. We're fuckin' action heroes or some shit"

"Right. I guess." We were walking down a street. It was night, and the only illumination was cast by the streetlamps, which lit our movements against the apartment buildings.

"It's cool, though, you know? Cuz' I used to be thuggin' and all that shit, but man, you don't know what yo' missin when you doin' that petty shit! This shit is fuckin' real!"

"Real. Right." There was something moving down the street. Or, at least I thought there was. Probably just the light.

"Gangsta shit, you eva get involved in any gangsta shit?"

"Huh?" Was it moving towards us? Oh God, I hoped it wasn't moving towards us…

"Gangsta shit? You know, gats and bitches and shit."

"What? No. I'm white," I wasn't really paying attention anymore. It was really moving towards us. I glanced at display screen. Sure enough, a little red dot, speeding straight for us.

"Stupid cracka-"

There was a crack and a bang as something hit me right in the chest, almost doubling me over. I felt myself get flung backwards. Instinctively, I reached for the gun. Max was shouting, but I could barely hear him above the ringing in my ears.

And there it was. The small Asian man from the photo. Except he wasn't a man anymore. Oh no, it looked like his arms had been ripped off, and out from their sockets had emerged a host of tentacles that appeared to be, well, ramen noodles. I squeezed the triggers and prayed.

The noodles distorted, apparently avoiding the blast of my gun. Max was shouting for me to run away, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. Tentacles swung down towards me, as if to grab me and throw me again.

I rolled to the side and fired again, and the monster swung with my movement, shifting towards the right. Max was screaming now, a tentacle had wrapped itself around his foot. Suddenly, a noodle shot towards me, I tried to dodge, but it wrapped around my neck, and began to squeeze

I gasped for air like a dying fish, dropping my gun and brining my hands to the noodle, clawing at it. I was losing air, and I felt myself going light headed. More tentacles were wrapping themselves around my torso. Was this how it was going to end? Choked to death by ramen noodles? Not very noble… but, Oh God, what could I do? I looked up, my eyes bulging looking to the sky, praying to God.

But there were no angels on the roof of the apartment building who's wall I was being strangled against. Only a girl in a black suit with red hair, dropping a sword down towards me.

Several things happened at once. There was an explosion, and the alien's legs were blown to pieces. Max had pointed his X Gun at the series of tentacles encircling him, and blew them away. I grabbed the sword dropped down to me, and swung it down in a long arc, severing the cords that bound my body. I acted purely on instinct, rolling away from the tentacles, towards the body of the alien, The creature wore a look of horrible surprise on its face, and more tentacles began to emerge from the stumps of its legs. I thrust the sword deep into the chest of the creature, and for a moment, everything stopped.

I came to, gritting my teeth and screaming, twisting a sword into the creature, a horrible bloodlust upon me. I had acted on instinct, and I had survived. Survived, where this creature would certainly soon be dead. I had beaten it. Completely.

There is no euphoria like it.

No scent as sweet as the smell of its blood coursing out the wound I had carved into it. No touch better than the tactile pleasure of feeling the blade jutter and shake inside the creature's torso. No sound more musical than it's wretched bellowing.

And then I had let go, stumbled back, amazed at myself. What was I doing? WHAT WAS I DOING?

The woman in the glasses was standing behind the creature, a Y Gun leveled at it. She pulled the trigger, and three lines burst from it, wrapping themselves around the creature and binding themselves into the street for anchorage. The creature struggled desperately, but to no avail. Sarah stepped forward, and snapped the creature's neck back, so its eyes met her own.

"We are sending you back to where you belong, even though you tried to kill us. Remember this mercy, and never come back. Tell anyone who will listen never to fuck with us again. I Hope for your sake that you understand."

She crossed in front of the twitching beast, to where I sat on the ground in simple amazement. She held the Y Gun out to me, handle first.

"Send him back, kid, you earned it."

I took the gun, and raised it shakily to level at the ramen monster. I pulled the trigger, and a jet of rainbowed light seemed to burst down from the sky, onto the creature. It let out a horrible, piercing keen, that garbled as the lights seemed to cut it away.

And then, it was gone.

Max was clutching his leg, or rather, the stump of his knee; his leg was lying a few feet away, ripped off by a noodle tentacle.

"Holy shit! Your leg!" I cried, running towards him.

"'s cool, man, Where the fuck is Turner?"

"Here."

The main formerly in the black suit jumped down from a nearby rooftop, shuddering the Earth. What the fuck happened? Why weren't you in radio conta-"

But he was cut off as the swirling rainbow of light consumed him.

Here it came again. I wondered vaguely if I would ever get used to it.

We were back in the apartment.

"Max! How's Max!?" I exclaimed.

"Fine, homie, the hell is yo' problem?" There he was, looking at me with his "cracka, you crazie" look on his face. His leg, miraculously, had returned.

"But, but you leg!?"

"Just one of the many benefits of working for Gantz," piped up Sarah.

"As I was saying, what the hell happened out there!? Why didn't you two use your comms!?" Exclaimed the man who the others had called Turner.

"Shoot, man, thought you niggas could handle one fuckin' tentacle bitch monster," muttered Max.

"Let's do scoring first, shall we, Turner?"

Suddenly, the words "Yes. Lets." Appeared on the surface of the ball.

"Scoring?" I asked no one in particular.

"We'll explain everything soon, kid. Congratulations on surviving."

The ball shifted again. "Well, fuckers. Another day, another fucking miserable performance."

A picture of Max showed up on the screen , above which read the words, "Stupid-Ass Darkie."

"Man, Gantz, that shit's racist," exclaimed Max.

The words "managed to blow off his own goddamn leg, 5 points out of pity," appeared on the ball.

"Whateva, man. You know I regulated on that bitch," muttered Max.

Next up was a picture of the quiet Asian man, above his picture were the words "Silent Psychopath." Beneath that were words "Blew a hole in the alien. Decent shot, that. 10 Points."

"Nice work, Haro," congratulated Sarah, "It was a very nice shot." Haro smiled a bit, before picking up his book again and flipping the pages.

Next up was a photo of Turner, who was labeled as "Know-It-All Ex-Soldier," Gantz commented that he had "Stayed the hell out of the way, which isn't a terrible strategy, but not what brought home the bacon, Zero Points." Turner's only comment was a grunt and a sneer at the sphere.

A picture of the girl in glasses appeared, labeled as "Nosy, Slutty Bitch." Her performance was described as "Making the new guy do the dirty work, Zero Points."

The male read headed twin was labeled as "Fire Crotch #1," and did not receive any points, and apparently had gotten his arm blown off early in the session. His sister was pronounced "Fire Crotch #2," also received no points, and was criticized for "making the new guy do your goddamn job."

Finally, my own face, the picture on my college I.D. sprang onto the screen, captioned by "Natural Murderer." "Has some talent, and show's some real promise, provided he doesn't get himself killed. Twenty points."

Max whistled softly, "Twenty Points! On yo' first goddamn night! Damn, cracka, Yo' ass can throw down!" Everyone in the room began clapping for me. It was nice, I guess, but also sort of surreal.

"Well done, New Kid! Well done!" said Sarah enthusiastically.

"Thanks… I guess… but, uh, I'm kind of confused here… do you think any of you could-?"

"Explain everything?" finished Sarah, "Sure! Well, at least, all that we know."

She motioned for me to sit down in the half circle of people that had formed around the black sphere. As I sat down, she walked over to stand by the black sphere.

"First up, introductions. He's John Turner. A retired marine colonel, and the leader of our happy little team. Listen to him when we're on a mission, and he'll keep you alive. He was killed by a mugger," began Sarah.

"You fought pretty well, new guy. It's good to have you aboard. Sorry for the scares, earlier," said Turner, shaking my hand firmly.

"You've already met Max Freeman, he does general fire-arm work and support. He's a former drug dealer, but we've got him into the University. He was stabbed to death by a crack fiend."

Max nodded his head and grinned at me a bit haplessly.

"I'm Sarah Grestein. I'm a researcher at the University, and I was killed in a lab accident. Corrosive acid is terrible stuff. I'm second in command, and if Turner goes down, I'll do my best to keep you all alive."

"Next is Haso Manamora. Accountant. He hung himself when his wife left him. He has experience with and a knack for sharp-shooting, so he usually takes sniper position."

Haso nodded his head a bit to indicate his introduction.

"Last up are the twins, Hannah and Seamus Finnigan. They were still in high school when they were hit by a drunk driver. They have experience in Kendo and Fencing, so they do recon as well as blade work."

The two said hello softly, not meeting my gaze.

"Now, who are you, cracka?" interrupted Max. Sarah looked a little annoyed, as if she would have enjoyed asking the question.

"…Uhm, James Gomez. I'm a student at the University. Biology major. I was killed in a car accident, jackknifing into a Subaru. I don't really have any special skills."

"Buuulllllshiiiiiiiit!" drawled Max, "You got this shit locked down!"

"Lastly, there's Gantz," interrupted Sarah with a severe look at Max as she patted the black sphere, "We don't know who he is, or why he brought us here, but we do know that he controls our destiny, he saved our lives, but he won't hesitate to kill any of us. The first thing you have to understand is that this is not optional. You will fight with us, and, you may die. Gantz, kindly show us the people that have died in your service."

The black sphere lit up, and rows after rows of portraits began to line up. Hundreds in all. The room took on a sober tone.

"This is not a game. This is war. We are fighting against an alien menace, that will kill us if we let them."

She looked around the room, before her eyes settled on me.

"Gantz sets a couple rules on how we operate. First, we cannot leave this room until we are transported out of it. Second, we cannot return until we have dealt with the alien threat. Third, when you go home, you must not mention Gantz. You must not talk about what we do here. You must not show anyone outside this group alien technology, or discuss it with anyone. Fourth, when we are out on a job, you must not leave the 1 square mile grid that we are operating in. If you break any of these rules, Gantz will end your life."

"The next rule is our own. First, we work together. We all die if we don't make a team effort. If you abandon us, or shoot us, or just generally fuck up beyond all reason, we will kill you. But we'd rather not have to.

"Next, keep in mind that Gantz will always patch you back up if you get screwed up on the job or out in real life. Also, the suit will typically stop blood loss, and you will feel very little actual pain from wounds. The main barrier is a psychological one. The ability to keep operating despite having an arm ripped off or your hand blown to bits. It takes some getting used to, but as Max and Seamus demonstrated, it is possible."

"Great…"

Her expression became more sympathetic, "We all realize this is a lot to take in, but everything we tell you is for your own good. Think of it this way: you died tonight. You should be dead. Think of this as a second chance. A new try. And all you have to do, is kill an alien every now and then."

It seemed sort of funny, and I almost found myself laughing. It still seemed rather inappropriate, so I suppressed the urge.

"Well, I suppose that's in then. Unless there's something else?" finished Sarah brightly.

"Stay in comm. contact next time," Answered Turner.

"Anything else?"

Silence.

"Right. Okay then. I'll see you all later then. Until next time, take care of yourselves."

There's no such thing as a painless death, and there is no such thing as a painless life, either.