Checkpoint

Death needed a secretary, but it sure as hell didn't pay enough for one.

Standing at the crossroads, wearing a bleak uniform of pale grey robes - slightly singed by the former employee of the same station - Amalia waited impatiently for the next soul to pass. Time positively crawled when you worked nine to eternity. Her next break wasn't for another three hours...or was it eons...

She sighed.

A sudden FLASH brought a bewildered soldier to her feet, legs sprawled out as if he'd been dropped from a box of toys. He stared, blinking more than typical. "Um, what happened?"

Leaning over, Amalia propped her arm over her company-provided scythe. "You died. Pay the silver and we'll get you back on your feet." She held out her hand and yawned.

"Pay what?"

"Silver. Currency. Coin." Her tone grew snappish. How was this idiot not with the program?

Patting his pockets, the soldier looked sheepish. "Uh, I seem to have spent it?"

"Well, sucks to be you then. Revives cost ten silver, no exceptions." Death always played by the rules. Otherwise it would seem unfair.

The soldier frowned. "So...I'm stuck here?"

"Absolutely not. You're dying for reals now, move along towards the light." She pointed at a beam just behind him. "Next time spend your money more wisely and don't waste it on useless starter gear. Weapons can't make up for experience."

With a sad and sorry face, the soldier stood up and sulked his way over to the glow of eternity, which embraced him in a poof of ending existence. Amalia cracked her neck and leaned back again.

Moments later a fierce-looking warrior covered in furs crackled into the space before her, axes aloft. Vexed, she spoke not a word but threw a sack filled with money towards Amalia. Catching it, death's agent waved her along and she blinked back to life with a roar.

A wizard appeared, his robes charred and slightly oozy along the hem. With a heavy sigh, he looked up. "Hello, Amalia."

She waved. "Pierce."

"Can I just pay up through the next five spawns?"

"There's no discount."

"Fine." Tossing a heavy purse to her, he grunted and adjusted his spectacles before poof life took him once more.

A few moments passed in silence. Amalia examined her black nail polish and fussed over a chip.

Another ZAP and this time her boss arrived, a skeletal figure of indeterminate race or sex, clothed only in black. "Cash out time. Hand over the silver." He held up a large satchel, which Amalia filled with her cache.

"Is it break yet?"

"Not yet. Zeke called in late."

Groaning, Amalia protested, "That's the third time this cycle! When are performance reviews?"

Death blinked. "I don't believe we've ever had them?"

"Well, I move to start! We need to get new faces in here."

Eyeless sockets stared at her. "New...faces?"

"You know what I mean!"

Contemplating, Death replied, "We'll consider it. In the meantime, you had one failed respawn?"

"Broke newb. No silver."

Death nodded. "Any other issues?"

"None. Just waiting for Pierce to come by four more times."

"Shouldn't be long. I'll be back when Zeke checks in." Turning, Death walked off into nothingness.

Amalia stretched. As jobs went, it could be worse.

She could be an adventurer.

Another poof and a scantily clad dancer waving daggers the size of chopsticks appeared with a cry.

Shaking her head, Amalia just held up her hand. "Lady, you need a bigger sugar daddy 'cause that armor's getting you nowhere."