Slight Spoilers in this chapter... in every chapter actually. The description of the offices and... well the building in general may not be completely accurate.
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After exiting the ornately decorated office, the young supervisor of the DMD traveled to the employee's break room for a cup of free coffee, as he had been unable to drink one in the comfort of his home. He still needed to replace his old coffee-maker, as the poor thing had worn away from the constant abuse.
He would need some form of caffeine to get through the day. The souls of half-humans were extraordinarily difficult to work with. Especially with her being part angel... fallen or not. He had to tread carefully. Failure was not an option. Obviously, angels can't die, so the DMD has no reason to care about them, let alone reap them but, since the girl was half-human, she had the ability to die. However, she did have the option to go back to heaven, as it was not her who had fallen. The decision he had to make was whether or not she would succumb to the darkness.
He had heard of this happening before. Many years ago, a person with a similar type of ancestry had been permitted to live on, as that person had become a highly successful priest later in their lifetime.
However, that was only one case. The other rare cases had ended in a regular death and reaping. 'Hopefully, this one follow that example' he mused silently.
It's not like he wanted all those on the list to die; there was just less paper-work and overtime if the human in question simply succumbed to death. A shinigami had to ask for special permission from the higher-ups to let a human escape death's merciless claws.
In his entire career, he had never asked the council for permission to let a person to live on. He wasn't cruel by any means; he just didn't think it would do the universe any good if those particular humans had lived. That was the rule anyway. The only reason to forgo reaping a soul was if the human in question would live a life beneficial to the world. The closest he had come to saving someone was his graduation test with the author, even though the young Sutcliff had attempted to interfere.
Before exiting the office, the head of the DMD had ordered that the younger reaper should observe the half-angel for the month before the death-date. "Just as a precaution." William could still imagine the old man's rough, throaty voice, explaining the irksome predicament.
Her file stated that she was studying medicine at a college in Bristol, England. Her place of occupation was at an orphanage a mile away from the college. To be more specific, she was the children's nurse. She lived alone at an old apartment complex, conveniently located directly between the college and the orphanage. She had coffee coloured hair and sparkling jade eyes.
Easily locating his own workspace, he settled in the frayed chair, the plastic wheels squeaking with his familiar weight. Flicking neon green-yellow eyes at the always-orderly desk, a result of his own OCD, he opened the old silver work laptop, given to him right after his graduation test. With his calloused finger poised, he began the all-too-tedious process of typing the necessary papers for the job he had just received.
Her death-date was 04/08/86, meaning that he would need to begin his observation 03/08/86. He had four days to prepare the paperwork before the assignment officially began.
'That is plenty of time', the dark-haired reaper mused, sightlessly staring at the uncovered, silver-hued computer.
It only took one to three days for the documents to be approved and stamped. Unless the officials were busy...or just being down-right lazy... and traveling to the living world wasn't a long process by any means.
Locating her would be an easy task. Like him, she was a workaholic. She never went to any places beside the three previously mentioned. There was no mention of a significant other in her file.
Positioning his glasses for the millionth time, his veteran hands typed the long, boring procedure of typing up the documents. He could print them all out later.
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Tired, glass-shielded eyes glanced up at the dusty clock, unsteadily hanging from the right corner of the white, tiled ceiling. The distinct, red numbers displayed 4:57. He could finish writing this last form and head out. His rose-hued fingertips had bruised lightly from the that day's abuse. Every once in a while, he shook his wrists to relieve the ache from typing.
Like most days, Sutcliff had ogled the supervisor of the DMD with an undying vengeance for the primary portion of the day instead of getting his own work finished.
A lukewarm, half-drank cup of black coffee rested on the brunet's desk, the only thing that diminished the normally flawless work table.
After pre-reading the paper for the third time and finding no imperfections, he clicked the 'send' button with a maintained level of joy. Finally, he could leave and rest in the privacy of his own home without annoying crimson-haired reapers and ridiculous heaps of paperwork. It was almost unbelievable how much more difficult it was to deal with a half-human than a normal one.
Simultaneously stretching and standing from his abused office chair, he grabbed the recyclable plastic cup and, despite his desire to shoot the cup basketball-style into the foul-smelling garbage can, he ambled over sluggishly and dropped it in.
Having maintained the same, exact position for the whole day, he cracked his knuckles and tilted his head both right and left to alleviate the tension from his neck.
After swinging open the creaking oak wood doors, he skipped down the marble steps with no hand on the gleaming steel safety bar. All he could think of during his stroll to the mediocre building was how much he couldn't wait for this ordeal to be over and go back to his normal, everyday life.
Contrary to his wishes, that would never happen.
