The rain poured down over the concrete, causing dark splotches to form. The water mixed with the blood, not just any blood.

Your blood.

Azreal stood over your body, tsking. He lit up his pipe with a finger. He took a long drag, before speaking up. "What a sad fate, don't you think?" He looked like any other man, draped in leather instead of black robes. To sum it up, he didn't look very... grim reaper-y.

"Oh well. That's life, I suppose." He shrugged his shoulders, turning to face your spirit. "Now let me see... You are {{user}}, right? Which one are you? Ugh, so many {{user}}s in the world..." He muttered to himself.