[ WP ] The straw that broke the Grimm Reaper 's back

`` YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE, YOU KNOW.'' 
 
 `` Come on, bones,'' said the mugger through the bullet hole in his throat, his voice decidedly less melodious than gravel on a chalkboard. `` You said so yourself, this was a special occasion.'' 
 
 The reaper of Humans sighed and adjusted the bow-tie of the ridiculous tuxedo he'd dressed in for the game. At least he could stop time, he thought as he stared at the three cards facing up in his hand. He'd been kind and let them each have a single face-down card. 
 
 `` DEALER HITS.'' 
 
 A three of spades. Death had seventeen; a queen of clubs, a four of spades and his new three. The top card was a jack of hearts. The card two down from the top would be a four of hearts, bringing him to twenty one. One from the top was a four of clubs, also bringing him to twenty one. That was how it always ended. He could count cards for infinity, calculate dozens of statistics per draw and could read the kinks in the cards to know what had been drawn. Not that he needed to; even if they brought in their own deck he could just stare through his opponent's cards and continue to win. 
 
 Sometimes he liked to humor his opponents; give them the hope that they might win, especially if they'd led a particularly good life. Usually they were good sports about leaving after that. This was n't so clean-cut. A mugger, a freshly-snorted pile of cocaine, a dark alleyway, a woman, her date and a Mexican standoff over her body. It was the third time in the last hundred years this had happened. Most of the time, the criminal shoots first. 
 
 It was a rare but impressive occurrence when two people died within the exact same millisecond. It had happened, by Death's count, fourteen thousand, eight hundred and forty three times at this point. Three people had died simultaneously six hundred and ninety one times. Four had died twenty eight times. In his entire career, five people had died at the same time only once. He hosted a tea party, congratulated them, and then promptly tore their souls from their corpses. It was convenient that they were all in the same room, he mused for what felt like a millennium. 
 
 Finally, his opponent made the choice. 
 
 `` I'll stay.'' The mugger coughed as he said it, blood spraying onto his hand. He flipped his face-down card. 
 
 A ten of hearts and a jack of spades. Twenty. The reaper mused for a moment, wondering if maybe the mugger thought he was lucky instead of the product of an elaborate scam. 
 
 `` Hit me.'' 
 
 The date plucked the jack from Death's hands with a finger covered in the blood of his stomach's entrance wound. Eleven or twenty one, depending on how you interpreted the ace on the table. Death considered for a moment, looking back at the woman in the alley, the terror on her frozen face. She had a good time that night. 
 
 `` HARD 17. DEALER STAYS.'' 
 
 `` No shit?'' The mugger spat. `` You got 17. You lose, bones.'' 
 
 `` Hit me again,'' the date said, his voice growing nervous. The four came to him. Fifteen showing. 
 
 `` FOUR OF HEARTS. YOU HAVE FIFTEEN SHOWING, YOUNG MAN.'' 
 
 `` Thank you, sir.'' 
 
 The young man peered over the table, over Death's shoulder, at the woman. 
 
 `` Sir,'' he said, his wavering voice hardening, `` what will happen if I lose?'' 
 
 The skull that was the reaper's head did n't blink. 
 
 `` YOU WILL DIE.'' 
 
 `` And you're just going to let this guy live?'' The man half-asked, half-yelled as he slammed his fist on the tabletop's green velvet. Unable to speak further, the mugger just cackled as more blood spewed out of his throat. 
 
 Death said nothing for a while. 
 
 `` FIFTEEN SHOWING, YOUNG MAN. WILL YOU HIT OR STAY?'' 
 
 `` Fuck it, then! Hit me!'' The young man gritted his teeth and waited for the card. The second four came and he froze in fear. 
 
 `` FOUR OF CLUBS,'' Death said, his skull still unblinking. `` YOU HAVE NINETEEN SHOWING AND FIVE CARDS.'' 
 
 The man's eyes widened. He looked at Death and, with pure terror on his face, began to realize what the number meant. The mugger saw his face and continued to laugh, a raspy, clogged sound that grew louder as Death raised his hand. 
 
 `` FLIP THE LAST CARD.'' 
 
 Shaking, the man turned it over. 
 
 A two of hearts. Twenty one. 
 
 The mugger choked and spat out what would be his last words. 
 
 `` You son of a --'' 
 
 Death snapped his bony fingers and the mugger evaporated, nothing but a pile of ash remaining. Back in the real world, his body lay motionless. It would never move again. 
 
 `` Wh -- what do I do now?'' The man asked, still holding the bloody card. 
 
 Death gathered the cards and tossed him the deck. 
 
 `` NOW?'' 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 `` YOU DEAL.'' 
 
 The skeletal man pulled a dark cloak around himself and disappeared, leaving the new Death to his own games.
