[ WP ] There are three deaths . One , body ceases to function . Two , body is buried . Three , your name is spoken for the last time . Tres Morte is a city where the citizens are people who have n't had their third death .

Tres Morte; a city for the unforgotten. It's wide cobblestone streets zigzagged through the city like lace. Dark gothic buildings were fitted snuggly where the roads ended. The urban sprawl's labryinthean nature and the lack of any sunlight made navigating the city difficult. Tall oil lamps dotted the paths, though they provided very little illumination. 
 
 Jade hummed to herself as she pushed a steamer trunk up one of the city's gentle slopes. Foot traffic was low, as it usually was, the dead were n't in a rush to go anywhere, but occasionally she did stop and wave'hello' to a fellow pedestrian. A broad-shouldered man with a plumed hat and a blue petticoat, an old oriental hunched over his walking stick and clothed in vibrant reds and yellows; the occasional red-faced drunkard trying to convince himself that there was still something beating inside of his chest cavity. Very few of them returned her greeting. 
 
 She did not allow their sullen faces to dampen her mood. She never thought of death as a loss, she thought of it simply as a transition. Of course, she was aware that the city was a poor place to live ( if she could still use that word ), with it's dreary decor and the lack of sunlight. 
 
 But, what where the alternatives? Restless souls had tried to venture outside of it's boundaries in the past into the cracked, dry wastes beyond, with torches and improvised weapons in hand. It never amounted to much. Sometimes they would return, disappointed and maybe missing a few men. Other times they would n't return at all, swallowed by the darkness. The Authorities had prohibited expeditions outside of the city when the latter became more likely than the former. 
 
 The cumbersome steamer trunk rolled onwards on a trolley that might've been blue once. Now it was only partially blue. The streets were filled with the sound of it's rubber wheels skidding on the uneven cobblestone. Jade was afraid that she might lose control or that the heavy leather belts strapping the trunk down might come undone. 
 
 Fortunately, she made it without any unnecessary incidents. Her apartment was on the top floor of the Heffler building, which was four stories tall. The climb would n't have been much of a problem on it's own, however it seemed impossible for Jade's petite size. Nonetheless she released her hold on the trolley and stepped up to open the front door. It opened on its own, before Jade could reach the doorknob. 
 
 `` Uh, hello.'' said the young man standing in the door frame. He seemed to be a new arrival. You could always tell the newbies from the longtime dwellers. The smell of the city had n't stuck to you yet. 
 
 Jade blushed. He had a soft boyish face, but it was handsome nonetheless. `` Hi,'' she replied, still a bit embarassed that he caught her unaware. 
 
 The lad introduced himself as Wyatt and was, as predicted, a newcomer to Tres Morte. Jade told him that she had been here only two years herself. The truth was that she had been in the city for much longer, but if you start telling people that then they became much more prone to questions. 
 
 `` God,'' Wyatt said between gasps for breath, `` How many more stairs?'' 
 
 `` Just a few more! ``, Jade giggled, standing ahead of Wyatt, just in case he dropped the steamer trunk. The gesture was cute, but Wyatt's thin, lanky frame did n't seem up to the task of climbing all those stairs lugging such weight. `` If you need help, you could always ask!'' 
 
 `` What do you keep in this? Bricks? ``, asked Wyatt as the trunk bumped against another step. 
 
 Just as they were nearing the top, the handle on the steamer trunk broke and it fell down the stairs. The lid broke on the previous landing and a man stumbled out. He ran down the stairs, mumbling through a dirty rag. 
 
 Before Wyatt could react, Jade slid a dagger into the back of his throat. 
 
 Blood soaked his shirt and soon dribbled onto the floor. Jade felt her heart flutter. She knew he would n't die. Nobody died in this place, but they could still *feel*. Jade knew that Wyatt felt every inch of that cold steel through his flesh and it made her quiver with joy. Wyatt gurgled something that might've been a scream. Jade cleaned the blade on Wyatt's shirt before sliding the slim, almost dainty little dagger into it's sheath under her petticoat. 
 
 She did n't care that one of her toys ran from her. She had found something even better, though the wriggly little mouse would be likely to alert the Authorities to her location. She smiled. It would be a chase then. She was not new to evading the police, and Tres Mortes had so many nooks and crannies where she could hide. 
 
 

