<Crow T. Robot voice> We're gonna have to go a long way to get back to combat witches.

>

*snrk*

> a metal baseball bat, its shaft wrapped in black
>electrical tape, barrel decorated with festive stickers depicting
>cartoon stars and ringed planets. The doctor rested the bat on her
>shoulder with the casual ease of long familiarity, the threat in her
>eyes unsubtle, and went on,
>
>"I dunno why I can see you tonight. Somethin' in the air, maybe
>somethin' to do with the weather—Gotham doin' Gotham things," she
>added with a faint smirk. "But I can. Which means you're gonna stand
>right there an' let me work..." The smirk became less faint and
>entirely unfriendly, her eyes hardening. "... Or we're gonna hafta go
>outside an' have a frank exchange of views, you 'n me."

After all, what is a doctor if not someone who keeps Death away from their patients as long as possible? ...at the end of a bat, if need be.

>The reaper looked up. "You're... you're not angry?"
>
>WHY SHOULD I BE ANGRY?

In the celestial scope of things this probably barely counts as a rounding error.

>"What are you punishing yourself for, Calliope?"
>
>This time Mori's startled recoil was anything but slight; she sat back
>so sharply it made her chair legs rattle on the patio paving, her
>skeletal hands involuntarily rising as if to placate her superior.
>
>"Yes, I know who you are," Teleute said calmly, placing her own hands
>flat on the table. "I know the Names of everyone in Hel. I know
>you're the last of Hela's shinigami. And I know why there are
>no others left."

>Where, a moment before, had been
>a skeletal figure in a ragged black robe and cloak, there now stood a
>well-built young woman of slightly greater than average height, clad
>in a snug-fitting, gold-trimmed black dress with a high slit up one
>side and a plunging neckline, her long pink hair topped with a black
>tiara supporting a decorative veil.

Oooh, we get one of *them* ladies.

> "The last shinigami..."
>
>AND GOOD RIDDANCE TO THE REST OF THEM, said Forseti bluntly.
>
>"Amen, brother,"

Was it giving a mortal boy that Notebook of Instantly Killing People that was the last straw? Or was it when the 15 year old throat cancer patient got shape-shifting abilities so she could be an idol singer? Or were they just spending far too much time on sword fights (even by Asgard standards) and not enough on actually dealing with supernatural incursions into the mortal world? We may never know.

> Friday, July 12, 1946
> Paris, Gallia
> Dimension GCC #332/S

And we're back! Looking forward to where this goes.