[ WP ] When you die the afterlife is an arena where you face every insect and animal you killed in your life . If you win you go to heaven , lose you go to hell . Your job was an exterminator on earth .

`` I know back when you were kids it probably looked like a fantasy. I mean, the world treated my kind like rock stars or war heroes. Our faces were on cereal boxes, Saturday morning cartoons, little action figures. We made more money from advertising deals than we ever did actually working. At the time I thought we deserved it too, it's a hard job. Not hard like breaking your back under a hot sun all day; not hard like being away from home for months on end, not knowing when you'll make it back. It was hard like a big game hunt. The tiger never tires, the risk never dies, and the predator has far more to lose than the prey. No one saw that from the outside, they only saw a golden age. 
 
 But they were n't golden days to anyone living in them. Yeah, I knew our luck was about to end after my last mission with a team, in'86. I was already a professional, you need only have two on your record to be considered one but I had six. On my team of ten, only five casualties my entire run. None while I was in charge. Until that time. 
 
 We were dispatched to a place called Talcott, West Virginia. There they built a mile long train tunnel, the same one John Henry was rumored to have died working in, and it had been a popular spot for disappearing teens. There were n't any confirmations, but back then it was better to be safe than sorry, so the suits sent us anyways. 
 
 So with a team of ten: you have two on point leading. Because they're the real risk takers, you put two on duty to watch their ass. You have three to man the portable equipment and three to kill the damn thing. 
 
 We were walking into a trap. You ever see a ghost before? They do n't hide under sheets, they do n't rattle chains and moan in agony. You can barely notice them at all. Especially in the stark black of the Big Bend tunnel. You have to feel them. At best it's the chill in your spine or the movement out of earshot. At worst you see the memories of the old world, the shadows of what was or wanted to be. Your soul wants to escape it all so much your skin curls and your blood boils. There's no time to hesitate, lest your very being be devoured by the specter's hunger. 
 
 We were always ready for casualties, but not like this. The point men die first, they always do, then the guard. By the time I realize what's going on I light my torch and went to protect what team I had left. It was too late, one partner with the other plasma torch goes out with a snap. The other lights a flare, holding it in one hand and a cross in the other. One of the engineers in the back gets on his knees and begs, he heard once that in worst cases you may survive through the grace of the ghost's mercy. It did n't work for him. 
 
 Soon all that was left were the two killers, myself and my mate Philip, with barely enough equipment to hold the thing down, much less kill it. Philip always had faith in Christ, and part of me believed in that faith too. Always served him well. Yet in the darkness of that pit, Christ was nowhere to be found. It killed him. 
 
 So I take the flare from Philip and I take the plasma torch and before it reaches me I kill the damn thing. I never got a good look at it, even with the blinding lights in my hands, but I felt the cold whisper of death on its breath, on its fingertips. I rested for half a moment before I realized I had to lug all the equipment back myself and write condolence letters to nine families. 
 
 I walk back a half mile to the exit of the tunnel, longest walk of my damn life. After that I decided to never work with a team again. Too many good men can get lost in the darkness. Good thinking too, because it was n't too long after the haunting in Connecticut made ghost hunting taboo and we became the pariahs I knew we were on the inside. 
 
 You know the rest: I moved to Seward, became a private hunter, and lived on whatever I could. Demand died down, but it never died off. It's why I'm still living, it's why we are down here now hunting this thing. You asked me if I believe in God after all I've done, sure I do. You deal with the afterlife so long you realize death is inevitable. What made me stop going to church was what happened to Philip. Now I know why: our job's not really honorable. Not in the eyes of the lord. If all these lost souls are looking for God's divine guidance back home, then we are the devils they fear, preventing them from salvation. How could God ever forgive that ultimate sin? That was Philip's downfall, thinking your soul could be saved even if you survived. That anyone could be forgiven for that. I knew after that day I'd never make that mistake. I shudder to imagine what awaits me in death, but I do know that I will deserve it.''
