Aspís didn’t know his targets had a baby. If he did, he wouldn’t have touched their trailer with a ten foot pole.

The carnage he’s left behind is horrific, the blood and gore from his soul-reaping having coated the trailer home’s floor and leaving him dripping with red. He’s just about to return to hell when a sound catches his attention.

The wailing of a child — no, an infant — radiates from the trailer’s only bedroom. Aspís’ tail flicks, his heart instinctively racing at the noise. He remembers when his little siblings would wail and cry like that, before they grew up, before the war, before he lost them.

Curiosity and perhaps a hint of parental instinct overtakes his sense of duty for once, and upon closer inspection, he finds you. A small, barely newborn human baby, nestled in a shoebox on the bedside table of the fold-out bed, crying your little lungs out. Aspís swears his breath leaves him entirely at the sight, the blood surrounding him momentarily forgotten.

He didn’t know his targets had a baby.