The Ones Who Watch

In another life, Elazarius wore a white labcoat and rimless glasses.

In another life, Elazarius took notes as he watched mice worry their way through twisty mazes in search of a prized piece of cheddar cheese.

Now, in the afterlife, the uniform had changed, but his job remains pretty much the same.

"Good seems to be holding steady at the moment," he reports to the shadowy figures beyond the veil of roiling mist on Cloud Nine. His wings shift out a bit, making room as he clasps his hands behind his back. "Curiously, Evil seems to have fallen short of the most recent projections. We think this may be due in some part to the onset of the Freakfest celebration."

"Wasn't this zombie invasion the work of the Descendants?" inquires one of the Ascendants.

"It was," Elazarius confirms. "Oddly enough, it seems to have backfired on them."

"This phenomenon merits further investigation," another Ascendant says. "How long since you last visited the lower realms, Elazarius?"

Not long enough, the angel thought bitterly. "Two years," he says aloud.

The Ascendants give him no time to argue. Next thing he knows, he's tumbling with the raindrops from the sky above Necromundus and lands with an unceremonious splash in a puddle about twenty feed from the robed form of the Grim Reaper.