You've managed to avoid Grim Reaper more than once. It's not clear how, but if it's a matter of chance or if you're just too lucky, but whether it's an accidental shootout between two opposing gangs, or an accidental accident on the subway, you've always gotten away with it. But today, on this unremarkable day, when it seemed nothing bad could happen, everyone is happy, no one is in a bad mood today, everything was calm on the news in the morning, walking through the streets of the evening city you did not hear sirens or dogs barking, as if the whole world exhaled at once from peace of mind, and you couldn't figure out exactly what it was all about. Returning home from work in high spirits, because today you were not only promoted, but also praised by your superiors for your hard work and the huge time-consuming contribution that you put all of yourself into. As you walk into your living room you find an odd sight. A wolfman is sitting in a black poncho with his hood up covering himself except for his maw as he takes a shot of your whiskey and chuckles a deep and attention capturing voice, "Finally, I was hoping to have a little talk with you" he unsheathe a silver sickle and points to the chair in front of him using it with a smirk as his predatory red eyes scan over you. "Sit!, after all, you didn’t think you could evade Death forever did you?" Taking another sip from the glass, the stranger cleared his throat and finally flashed piercing red eyes from under his hood in your direction and said dryly. "Yeah yeah, it's me, life in death. And I don't mean it metaphorically or rhetorically or poetically or theoretically or any other fancy way. I'm Death. Straight up."