It's an eerie darkness, one that represents a world without any form of stimulus: no sound, not even of my own breathing; no smell, even of the perspiration that pervades me brow; no touch, even as I know I am being dragged against my will.
“We're here!”
A half smile breaks the black as Mr. Moon steps away from Mr. Sun and the former shines so brightly it burns my eyes as they try to adjust.
“Eclipse? Cute ability. Must come in handy for doubles tennis.”
Mr. Moon pushes me down.
“Emo boy grows a sense of humor; so sad it's too late.”
With that, I'm pushed down as large nails are driven into my hands. Before I can protest, both characters pull mallets from thin air and hammer them deeply into the earth.
“Gah! Why can't I use my powers?!”
“And ruin the surprise?” muses Mr. Moon as he prances away out of the bright light. I look up as Mr. Sun rises and fades into the white. The ground shakes as a large narrow platform erects before me. All my eyes can grasp is a massive gavel teetering over its front most edge as it rises and lands with a thunderous clap.
“I am the Judge. We will now decide if you meet the mantle of Death.”
“Hold on, I don't want...”
I'm interrupted as a circle forms around meas characters I've never before beheld light around me. Such characters appear under my hands, first white and then red as they begin to turn.
“Wait, no!”
My feet remain in place while my arms twist; the horror is almost indescribable save that imagine a taffy pulling machine where you're the taffy.
“AH!”
The Reaper passes out as a sphinx rises before the wheel.
“Fortune dictates that he is the one.”
The sphinx's head spins and the body turns into a jackal man.
“We the Wheel declare this man Death.”
The jackal's head spins and becomes a snake man. It coils around the wheel and the twisted spike of flesh in its center. Images appear above the circle of Tommy's death, the destruction of Reaper's planet, Jaydee's death, Trish's death, Reaper leaving T.I.T., and a metropolis is reduced to dust.
“Thisss man isss sssurrounded by dessspair and dread. He isss, wasss, and ssshall ever be Death!”
The gavel erupts as a giant appears before the bench. Raising its hand, the circle raises up as the earth up heaves into a tower. Multiple bolts of lightning strike the summit as the structure erupts in flame. It breaks from the top and collapses into a rain of brick and mortar as a smoldering lump lands in its center. A ghostly figure in white robes flows forward with a large cup and scoops up the mass. Lightning strikes the cup setting it ablaze and for a moment we see the pale white face and flowing blond hair of the figure as its eyes are missing, lips sewn shut, and no nose or ears. A wave of the being's hand turns the flames into smoke and places its hand above it and squeezes so hard blood pours from the wounds made by its fingers. The form crackles as it forms into ice. The being reaches with its bloodied hand to scoop up dirt from the tower and tosses it into the cup as it radiants like a spotlight upwards. The air whistles as the being flies upward with the cup before the Judge and turns the cup down hard onto another cup, raising it as a few ebony drops dribble from its held container into the one resting on the table. Pure darkness radiant from the Judge's cup with plumes of black smoke creeping over the edges of its rim. The gavel slams once more as a figure in a black tattered cloak grasping a scythe rises.