In the same huge market, another figure strode through the crowds, though he had little intention of even glancing at the pathetic trinkets and wilted food items presented.

He also made no attempt to be polite.

"Get the hell out of the way, punk," Johnny Bones growled, ramming his shoulder into a stocky young man. The citizen turned to him, raising a heavy fist, and was treated to a full blast of the permanent grin of a skull bereft of flesh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Johnny yelled after him as the man bolted away into the chattering crowds. "Bloody morons, all of 'em," he muttered quietly--unfortunately, he had long since given up the expression "under his breath." Death changed lots of things...even grammar. Specific wordings, of course, yielded the center stage to his skeletal appearance. With red eyes gleaming like supernovas, he wasn't surprised when people went after him, screaming "Demon!" or "Zombie!" or "Jesus Christ!"

No, Jesus was much luckier. He got to keep his skin.

Jesus wasn't a mass murderer, though.

I can quibble with myself all day, Johnny thought, snorting. No one else is smart enough.

The search for souls to save had only just begun. Ten-bloody-thousand. That was damned steep. Johnny was positive he hadn't killed over twenty-five hundred. But...you cannot argue with God. First of all, you can't even look at God without exploding, and second, a lesser being would talk to you and argue right back until you had your back to the gates of Hell and you were wishing you had payed more attention to that book by Dante...

Just begun. He had a long way to go.

Still...somebody, surely, needed saving in this rathole of a town. Johnny gave another strapping young lad a stare, and the man fainted. It was kind of fun, though. With just a look, this skeleton had grown men pissing their pants...

"Bugger it," he grumbled, and continued to shove his way through the crowd.

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Kellson (Deceased). Johnny Bones (Only Technically Deceased).A witticism goes here.