Hey everyone. Another fanfiction ideas out in the open. This one is going to be a really interesting one for me to write and I'm sure to read as well. I just love getting those wacky ideas out there.

Enjoy


Chapter One: A Minor Admin Error

Max's POV

My eyes slowly open, my sight bleary and unfocused unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I grab at my head as a dull aching passing through it.

My head…

As my vision becomes clearer I scan my surroundings, my brow furrowing when I don't recognize the room.

Where the hell am I?

I'm slumped in a chair in what appears to be an office, at least if the minimalistic furniture I can see is anything to go by. I shift into an upright position, massaging my neck to alleviate the pain of falling asleep at an awkward angle, and look around in a dazed trance in an attempt to figure out where I am. The room I am in is small, yet cozy. A large wooden desk sits in front of me, crumpled up pieces of paper and god knows what else strewn across it.

Damn, I think whoever works here is messier than I am, and that's saying something.

A computer is positioned atop the desk to the left. I lean forward and wiggle the computer mouse to see if it's still on. Nothing happens, the screen remaining blank. I lean back in the chair and sigh.

So much for that idea.

There are a few used cups dotted around on the desk. My curiosity gets the better of me and I lean forward to inspect one, an action I immediately regret.

How long has that even been there? You know what, I don't want to know.

I place the cup back on the desk and continue my search. Various posters line the otherwise bare walls, some of obscure bands I have never even heard of, others are… less work appropriate. A snow globe sits on the desk just in front of me. I carefully pick it up, giving it a shake and watching curiously as the small blobs of artificial snow whirl around in the glass dome, settling around a lone tawny doe fixed in the middle.

Ok, now put it back on the desk before you break it.

I gentle place the globe back on the desk, positioning it in the exact same place as before. As I stretch my legs out, my foot hits something underneath the desk. I glance under the desk to find a small cardboard box with scruffy handwriting labelling it Photos. Something about this unassuming box interests me… maybe it's just because I'm nosy. I stare at it, pondering whether to open it or not.

As much as I would love to look, it feels wrong.

I resist the overwhelming urge to peak in the box and instead rub my temples, trying hard to remember something… anything.

How did I get here? Where even is here? I don't remember. My head hurts too much to think right now.

As I sit there rubbing my face with my hand there is a loud creak from behind me. I snap my head around to look for the source of the noise to find a hooded figure walking into the office with a scythe, shutting the door behind them. My eyes widen in shock at the strange sight before me.

Uh… ok this is weird. I'm pretty sure Halloween has already come and gone. Maybe I'm at a cosplay convention or something…

I rack my brain, trying to figure out what happened with limited success. While I am lost in thought, the figure rests the scythe against a wall and takes off their cloak, chucking it haphazardly on a pile of unorganized papers in the corner of the room. Now it's off, I can see the figures features much better. Before me stand a tall girl with faded blue hair and tired azure eyes. She is wearing an off-white sleeveless t-shirt with a skull on it, grey patch up pants with suspenders hanging down either side, black boots and a dark blue beanie on her head. On her right arm is a colorful tattoo sleeve and a necklace hangs down, three bullets attached. The left most and middle bullet are rusted, however the middle one also glows a faint blue.

The girl slumps down into the chair opposite me, putting her feet on the desk as rubs her temples and sighs deeply. For a moment I wonder if she's fallen asleep, but after a few seconds she glances up at me apologetically, "Hey. Sorry, I didn't see you there. They're supposed to page me when someone is sent over."

She shoves her hand into her right pocket, taking out a small pager and regards it drowsily, "Huh. So much for that new system," she mumbles under her breath as she puts it back in her pocket before turning back to me, "Just… give me a sec. It's been busy today. Lots of people to admit."

Her words catch me off guard.

Ad-admit? What the fuck is going on?

She leans back in the chair, breathing deeply then reaches into the topmost left hand drawer and takes out some sort of tablets. She pops a few, throwing them into her mouth and washes them down with a half full glass of water sat on the desk. She rubs at her temples, "I've got such a head ache now. I hate paperwork, but then who doesn't?"

Eventually, she takes her feet of the desk and re-positions herself, cracking her knuckles before smiling at me. She searches around on the desk, if that's what you could call it, and locates a post-it-note and a chewed pen, then gives me an expectant look, "Right, so, what's your name?"

My throat becomes very dry as I try to comprehend this whole situation I've found myself in, "M-Max Caulfield," I stutter nervously, biting at my lip.

She scribbles it down in the same messy handwriting I had seen on the box under the desk. She taps her pen on the desk, "You wouldn't believe how many people don't remember. It makes it so much harder to get everything moving. It's not usually their fault though. They're the ones who usually suffer from head trauma. Nasty way to go. You can have side effects for hours afterwards."

H-head trauma? Is this a hospital?

Her eyes pass over the mess on the desk, causing her to sigh and smile apologetically, "This might take a while," she begins to search through all the loose papers on her desk, "I've been meaning to tidy this up for a while now. As you can see, it hasn't happened," she flicks through the pile and picks up an envelope, briefly examining it and then tossing it in the trash can beside the desk with an exasperated sigh, "Why do they keep sending me adverts for fucking TV packages? It seems even here I can't escape it. They really are persistent," she mutters to herself as she examines the pile.

After a few minutes of searching, her brow furrows in confusion as she leans back further in her chair, stroking her chin deep in thought, "Huh, that's odd. There doesn't seem to be any paperwork for you. Hold on," she types away at the computer on the desk, her fingers moving with an almost inhuman speed across the keyboard. Every so often she pauses, squinting at the screen before furiously typing away again. Eventually she stops, scratching at her head, "The system doesn't seem to have anything. Strange. One minute."

Her hand finds a phone laying on the desk and she punches in a number, holding the receiver to her ear. She rolls her eyes and gives me a bored look, "It takes so long to contact anyone in this place. I swear if I have to listen to that hold music for more than a minute, I'm going to go crazy," she taps her fingers impatiently on the desk as she waits, then sits up slightly, "Hey, Juliet. I have an inquiry. Have you got the paperwork for Max Caulfield? I can't find anything," she twirls the cord of the phone around her finger as she listens, her expression changing to one of mild annoyance, "No, I haven't lost it. I just can't find it. Why do you always assume it's my fault?" she pauses, then exhales deeply, "Ok, that was once. Won't anyone drop that? There isn't anything on the system either," she re-adjusts the beanie on her head as she listens, her body tensing up by the second, "What, again? Are you serious?" she questions, her exhaustion obvious from her tone, "Thanks for letting me know."

With that, she hangs up and turns her attention back to me, clearing her throat, "I'm not quite sure how to explain this so I'm just going to say it. You may kind of be nearly dead."

My eyebrows shoot upwards to my hairline at these words. I sit there bewildered, unable to process this bold claim.

What the fuck is happening?

"What?" I weakly ask in a half-strangled voice.

The girl leans forward, placing her elbows on the desk and propping her chin on her hand, "This is the place where people wait to pass to the other side. Where all the legal shit happens. You have no idea how much work goes into this whole death thing. It's easy for you guys, you just pass. We've got the hard job."

My brain can't register anything she is telling me right now, no-one could in my position, "D-dead. I'm…" I stammer, my unfinished sentence hanging in the heavy silence. I scour my mind, trying to remember what happened, but draw a blank.

That can't be right.

The girl shakes her head, "No, like I said, you are kind of slightly on the verge of death. You're in a coma and you're here until your body decides whether to keep going or… stop. There is a failsafe in the system to prevent people from going before their time. That's why you're in a coma," at this point she pauses and stares at me with uncertainty, trying to gauge my reaction.

"Oh, you're joking, right? This is… all some big prank," I stutter, trying desperately to make some sense of this whole situation.

She offers me a tired smile, "I would love to tell you that. Believe me, it would be easier for everyone if it had been a joke, but unfortunately it's not," she exhales, rubbing at her eyes, "I have a feeling I'll be working late again to fix this cock up. Great. When I find out who did this…"

I… I can't believe this.

I just sit there completely dazed, "How… how did this happen?"

She rubs her neck and laughs nervously, "Yeah, you're not actually supposed to be here. It was a minor admin problem."

"A m-minor admin problem?"

The girl leans forwards slightly, "The people who sort that side of things out have been overworked recently, as we all have. It's really intensive work, lots of sleepless nights. Everyone makes mistakes."

Am I dreaming? Why am I even questioning this? Of course I am. There is no logical explanation for this other than it being a fabrication of my mind… right?

I reach over and pinch my hand to wake myself from this bizarre dream, but nothing happens. The girl smiles at me reassuringly, "Don't worry, we're on it. You'll be back in no time."

Even with her assurances, I can't help but feel apprehensive about all this.

What the fuck is going on? I'm… in a coma. How? How did that happen? What do I do now?

I take a deep calming breath, "Ok… ok… what should I do?"

The girl looks thoughtful, propping her chin on her hand, "Well, you can go give the place a check out, grab some tea or whatever. It shouldn't take too long, unless we have an unforeseen complication."

That sounds ominous.

"Wh-what kind of unforeseen complication?" I hesitate, not sure if I actually want to hear the answer.

"Once you have worked in this place long enough you kind of expect the unexpected. Who knows what's going to go down? It can get pretty busy here," she inspects the chipped blue nail polish on her fingers as she speaks, "Also, there are always a few… short term effects we try to minimize for you, like minor brain damage, memory loss… you know, that kind of thing."

"M-memory loss?"

She smiles at me sheepishly, "Yeah. It usually comes back… eventually... most of the time…" she clears her throat, "Look, let me worry about that. You just go have fun and explore."

I lean back into the chair, shaking my head in disbelief as she returns her attention to the paperwork strewn over her desk.

Wowser. This is crazy.

She looks up momentarily from the desk, "You can stay here if you want. It's not like I'll be doing anything majorly exciting, but I'm not going to turn down the company," she motions over to a stack of leaflets sat in the corner of the desk, "There are some pamphlet type things explaining how this whole gig works. You can have a look at those if you want. I also have a few magazines scattered around. If you can find them, you are welcome to have a look," she tilts her head curiously, "While you're here, have you lost a relative or friend recently?"

Not that I know of.

"Uh… I don't think so."

She shrugs, picking up one of the papers, "Shame, you could have said goodbye."

I guess I'm stuck here for a while. I don't really want to go wandering about. I'll probably get lost.

I take one of the leaflets off the desk and absentmindedly flick through it. It's mainly about coping with the fact that you are dead and also what happens afterwards.

I bet a lot of people freak out.

I see one of the magazines on the floor and pick it up. The girl glance over at me, her face registering amusement, "That one is a personal favorite of mine."

On closer inspection, I see that it's a porn magazine and shake my head, "I wonder why."

She grins at me cheekily, raising an eyebrow suggestively, "What can I say? It gets lonely here."

I roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks heat up ever so slightly at her insinuation, "I really needed to know that."

"It is vital information," she smirks as she shuffles through the papers rapidly, then suddenly shoves them in one of the desk drawers, "You know what? I am so done with work for today. Want to go grab a coffee or something?"

Why not? It's not like I have anything else to do.

"Why the fuck not?" I shrug, adjusting the strap of my camera bag on my shoulder.

The girl smiles warmly at me, "I know a great place, come on," she stands up, her entire body clicking as she stretches, "I've been sat down pretty much all day, not fun," she grabs a black jacket from behind the door.

I grin in amusement, motioning my head towards the cloak she threw in the corner earlier, "Aren't you going out in the cloak?"

She turns to me and scoffs, "No way. That thing gets way too hot."

I follow her out of the office and walk down the corridor, struggling to keep up with her long strides, "Why do you even have it? Is it a requirement for the job, like a uniform?"

She turns to me and shakes her head, "Nope. This is a personal creation of mine. There was no way in hell I was going to wear the uniform they provided. Trust me, it's hideous. Besides, what is cooler than a scythe?"

I guess that's true.

"A valid point," I agree.

She grins, flashing me an amused glance, "Ah, a girl after my own heart. I have a feeling we will get along famously."


So, Chloe is the Grim Reaper. A very random idea, I know. It's going to be fun to see how this one plays out. Have a great day guys and see ya soon.