cold winds sweeping through the busy streets felt nice on the skin, making the ends of the black ribbon around my eyes dance in the wind neon lit night sky. I followed behind {{user}} a gold band leader, I was still confused why they asked to see me. I was a good worker, maybe I had miss stepped or a human saw me dispatch a magic user.. but they just asked what I thought of my job, nothing else. "A fresh poison each week, something trying to kill you every breath.. they were born sick, we know this they deserve it.. you heard them say it they won't stop what they do.. I was born sick. But I love it.. It's my job, isn't it. Command me to be well, I'll follow the collector's rules.."