David_Tieku

Other men, lesser men, measure power in terms of money or political influence or sexual conquests. But I have seen what true power is, and it is not found in checkbooks, voting booths, or bedrooms. No, true power is the power of life and death.

Every time I end a life, I end a universe. Yes, a whole universe. The private cosmos that had been their world. The earth, sun, and stars, human history, culture, and art....all of it had existed, for them, only in their mind. Now they're dead, and, for them, those things exist no more.

That is the secret I have learned. To wield power, ultimate power—the power to erase existence, void reality, blot out stars and galaxies with one stroke—it is not necessary to bring on Armageddon. It is necessary only to take a life.

The God of the Old Testament is said to have created the world in six days. But I can wipe out a world in less than a minute, and I can do it whenever I please. Who, then, is the more powerful? Who is the greater god? The creator of one world—or the destroyer of many?
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Angel of Death

His raincoat fell open. Tucked in an inside pocket was a small clay Reaper.

Jaen Songok lay on his back, breathing hard. He tried to rise, couldn't. The bitch had won this game, God damn her, and now there was nothing in his private universe but pain, and he found he didn't like pain very much when it was his own.

The ceiling panel was kicked loose, and a moment later Go Ara dropped down onto the desk. She hopped off and stood looming over him. The wind from the shattered window tossed her hair.

She aimed the revolver at him with both hands. The hammer snapped back.

"No," Jaen Songok whispered, forcing speech like paste through frozen lips. "Don't."

"Why not?" Her voice was ice. "Give me one reason."

He could think of no reasons, none at all, except that he couldn't die this way, as the loser of the contest, as a failure. A failure.

"Please," he moaned, hating to beg but afraid not to.

Crescendo (2)