Chance crept up softly behind Spyda. Too engrossed at watching the threads on her screen, she hardly noticed that there was someone else in her office besides her.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’ve just given some poor soul cancer of the throat. How mean can you get?”

Spyda turned around in her chair slowly, unfazed by the sudden appearance of Chance. “You know I don’t control their destinies. I can’t do that. The - “ she said calmly pointing at the threads on the screen. “ - threads have already been determined. No one can escape fate. I merely make sure they run its course.”

“Yadda, yadda, yadda,” Chance nodded his head listlessly, having heard the same explanation numerous times. “Can’t you just humour me and tell me something different just for once?”

Spyda shook her head. “When will you ever take things seriously?”

“Hey,” Chance protested. “I do take things seriously. I’m just not as uptight as you and Reaper. Both of you carry on as if you’ve got a pole up your arses,” he laughed. “I’m glad there’s still Eros or I would seriously consider being mortal and live among the humans. Way, way far more interesting and fun.”

Spyda ignored him and turned back to face the screen. “Good. And when I’m here and you’re a mere mortal on the earth, I’ll try to find some way to inflict some horrible disease upon you.”

Chance laughed. “You just said it couldn’t be done.”

“No, it can’t. But what I can do is weave your mortal thread with that of another who is already suffering from some contagious disease and let nature run its course,” Spyda said, keeping her face straight the whole time.

Chance frowned. “Hmm...you wouldn’t do that, would you?” Then breaking out into a cheeky grin. “I thought you loved me?”

Spyda spun back round to face him. “I love you as much as I love having a pole stuck up my arse,” she smiled.

Chance rolled his eyes. “I swear you’re such a prick. Only you don’t have one,” he laughed. “C’mon,” he said, pulling her away from the computer. “Eros and Reaper should be getting back from their rounds pretty soon. Let’s go chill out in the lounge while we wait for them.”

“I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not. These...” he gestured towards the screen. “...lines carry on without you anyway. Come on!” he continued to tug at her arm.

Spyda sighed. “Okay, okay,” she surrendered reluctantly. She needed a break anyway. And if I don’t agree, he’s going to be in here pestering me the whole time, she thought.

Reaper walked into the huge white building known as ‘The Observatory’. So named because this was where they ‘observed’ each human life. This was their office. A place suspended somewhere in time, between earth and heaven, between heaven and hell. A place not accessible to mere mortals although they may have heard of it once or twice. A place where the Aspects lived. A place called Purgatory.

“Good day, Death,” the receptionist greeted Reaper. Day. Not morning or afternoon or evening or night. For there was no concept of time in Purgatory. Actually, day was somewhat of a misnomer as well. But it was merely a generic greeting.

Reaper nodded her head in acknowledgement. She remembered this particular soul. She had ‘harvested’ it about 20 years or so ago. Yes, the receptionist was a soul. So were all the other ‘workers’ who ran Purgatory. They were those whose balance of good and evil were indeterminable that they could neither go to heaven nor to hell. So, here in Purgatory they stayed as members of staff, serving the Aspects as well as seeing to the every day running of the place.

Eros stretched out on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table, accidentally kicking over the chess pieces on the board.

“Hey!” Spyda yelled at him and smacked his foot.

“Oops, sorry,” Eros grinned sheepishly as he winked at Chance.

Unfortunately for the both of them, Spyda noticed. She shook her head. “When will you guys ever learn that you can never cheat fate?”

“Are you people bullying Spyda again?” Reaper asked as she walked into the lounge.

“Us? Bully Spyda? Noooooo...” Eros grinned.

“We wouldn’t dare...” Chance added.

Spyda smirked at them before turning to face Reaper. “Immature...typical...” she rolled her eyes.

Reaper nodded. Her face expressionless.

“Hey, Reaps. You can cut the act now,” Chance teased her.

She looked at him stoically. “What act?”

“Uh huh, Death does not smile. Or laugh. Or feel,” he repeated what he had heard a million times. “But it’s like, how the mortals would say, 6 o’clock. Work’s over for the day, my dear Grim Reaper.”

Reaper’s deadpan face slowly relaxed and broke into a little grin. “6 o’clock? Work? Day? Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’ve been spending too much time on earth, Chance. You’re beginning to talk like a mortal.”

Chance shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? I find them extremely interesting creatures.”

“Bickering, bickering, bickering. They’re such a noisy bunch. The only time there’s any peace and quiet is after a little help from me,” Eros commented as he whipped out his gun and twirled it around with his index finger.

“And, they always seem to insist on inflicting harm upon themselves. Don’t they know that their actions of now determine their future? Everybody starts off on a clean slate. Every thread starts off alike, but because humans have the boon (or then again, it could be a bane) of free will, whatever they choose to do to themselves determines the direction their threads take. So you get some who, to coin a human phrase, kick the bucket before their time,” Spyda added.

Chance bowed at Spyda. “Thank you for giving us such a detailed description...yet again,” he said with sarcasm.

“Spyda’s right. Humans are such fools,” Reaper agreed.

“Hey, what about me?” Eros asked.

“Oh yea, Eros is a fool too,” Reaper grinned at him.

"Hey!" Eros protested.