Cloaked in dark clothing from head to toe, a man worked his way quietly through the well manicured landscaping of the Vincenso family manor. The Vincenso's were an old, respected Italian family of the organized crime persuasion, so sneaking onto their property was a notion rife with danger. Or it would be if anyone could see him. The numerous guards armed with an assortment of assault rifles, sub-machine guns, and a wide variety of pistols patrolled mostly within the light and along the well trodden paths. While obviously ready for a gunfight to break out, the guards were oblivious to what lurked in the dark. Their paranoia came from being employed by one of the more prominent members of the local mafia during the start of a recently kicked off gang war. A war their side started. A war they had no idea was coming. But gang wars aren't fought by guys hiding in the shadows at their homes, they were fought by the soldiers of the opposing forces out in the city. They would push for territory, and burn out the other side's money making businesses. So while they thought they were safe, it was still better to be prepared. And prepared meant heavily armed and weilding an itchy trigger finger.

When the blue light burst forth from the man trying to sneak through the middle of the last two large groupings of guards before the house it was a shock to everyone. The intruder was stunned to find that despite obviously being better at sneaking than the guards were at finding, he was completely screwed now. The only reaction he managed was to mutter, "Ah, what the fu-!" The Vincensos' guards were shocked at the audacity of a man to even try this, then by the fact he had made it this far, and finally that he hadn't been shot yet. And then they rectified the final point. Repeatedly. Each. They kept shooting until both the light and the body were gone. With a lack of dead people to show as evidence, explaining any of this to the boss would be very, very difficult. This difficulty became an impossibility just over an hour later when all the explosives the dead man had planted around the house finally went off, turning the once beautiful estate and grounds into a firestorm of rubble and death.

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At the same time the unfortunate intruder was discovered and aerated, the same blue light appeared somewhere else quite different from the cultured and dignified lands of the Vincenso clan. For starters it was inside. The room was rather small, appearing to be almost a walk-in closet. A closest that contained what looked quite a lot like a sacrificial chamber, if such a thing could exist without the blood or iconography. A rough gray stone table with strange runes gouged out of it that glowed with a soft violet light that failed to illuminate anything other than the runes themselves. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all more than black. Rather they were more a black that gave reason to why black holes were named with that color in mind. Even the blue light illuminating the room didn't seem to be visible on the walls, or highlight them. Instead it appeared more that the room consisted only of the table and a box shaped blue light. Less than a second after the appearance of the blue light, changes began.

The first change was the simultaneous appearance of a door and a person. The door was the same scarier than black as the walls, only door shaped. The woman, as the person was female, somehow entered the room without using said door. She appeared to be humanoid, with a skin tone leaning more towards gray, and long, lustrous, white hair that hung straight down past her waist, and golden light shining from the irises surrounding the pinpoint sized pupils. Despite the white hair her face was unlined, and seemed to be both young and ageless. Sharp features, thin brow, high cheekbones, and a slightly pointed nose completed her rather attractive and youthful appearance. A skin-tight, lavender, single shoulder dress enhanced and exposed the femine curves that it also barely managed to contain. Her attention focused immediately on the blue light, and the body that was fading slowly into existence.

After a brief moment more, the body suddenly seemed to be going through some sort of rupturing. Over and over small holes appeared on one side of the body, but blasted out chunks on the other side. Blood and viscera started accumulating on the table at a rather alarming rate. Crossing one arm over her chest, and raising the other to stroke her chin the woman muttered, "I'd heard there have been transfer problems before, but this seems extreme. And he seems to be solidifying even before the holes are torn open. How could this be caused by the transfer?" Another few seconds passed before her posture that had begun to slump suddenly straightened, her hands shooting straight into the air above as her head dropped back. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "The transfer doesn’t kill people, people kill people! This isn't happening here, it's something that is happening to him there during the transfer process." She nodded a couple of times to herself before suddenly stopping as her jaw dropped open, and her eyes shot wide. "By the dead gods, he died in transfer!" One hand shot out, almost of its own volition, to stroke the runes on the table, causing a violet cloud to float up to her eye level. After scanning her eyes back and forth several times she resumed muttering to herself, "Let's see.... Yes, definitely alive at the start of transfer.... Hmm.... I didn't even know this was possible.... Why did this have to happen during my turn.... What do I do now?"

Head down and finger tapping her lips, she started pacing in the barely large enough gap between the table and the door. Three steps, turn, three steps, turn. This repeated for a minute or two, during which the blue light faded leaving behind a human in less than stellar condition. There was too little left intact to determine much other than the body being male, and having dark hair. Everything else was either in pieces or so soaked with blood it was impossible to properly assess. None of this seemed to interest the pacing woman however. After another minute of pacing she finally seemed to have decided on a course of action, and promptly vanished, taking the door with her. The broken body of the man who was last alive at the Vincenzo estate was left behind on the overly large and bloody sacrificial altar.

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In another room made once again of whatever color makes black jealous was a man. The room was furnished with a large chair made of some sort of gray leather, a small table, and a large stein sitting on the table. The fairly large man seated in the chair looked to be roughly in late middle age, and gave off a feeling of eternity, like looking at a worn down mountain. Something that had stood for untold ages, weathered and worn down, but unbeaten, refusing to give in. Salt and pepper short cut hair and beard, strong jaw, and a toucan’s beak instead of a nose. His eyes were grey, while his pupils seemed to be black with a white circle with a cross through it. The rest of him was generally human shaped, other than the extra pair of arms, and the resulting strange musculature on his bare chest. He appeared to be napping with his eyes open, or maybe contemplating his place in the universe, until the white haired female appeared in his room. Without the door this time.

Immediately upon her arrival the white haired woman curtseyed deeply, and keeping her head down launched into the reason for her unexpected appearance, “Greetings, Crossroads. Sorry to bother you, but the newest transfer has died.” After a moment of silence she realized her statement hadn’t really cleared up her reason for being here. Transfers die early and often, so another one doing so was definitely not worth disturbing him for. Startled, she dropped the curtsey as her hands flew to her mouth, and tried to speak and hide her face at the same time. Her embarrassment caused some problems with the speaking portion, and having Crossroad’s eyes locked onto her just made it worse, “No, no, not like that. I mean, he is dead. It’s not my fault. And I know you don’t care when they die, so I shouldn’t bother you for that. But it was so messy. And I didn’t know what to do. I mean, it’s obviously not my fault if he died mid transfer, but I- eep!” Crossroads snapping to his feet caused her to squeak in surprise and terror, cutting her words short.

“Mid transfer, you say? You are sure of this?” The intensity of focus in his deep baritone voice seemed to rumble enough to shake the surroundings. It certainly intensified the shaking of the woman, who was now hugging herself in fear. Seeing her state, Crossroads smiled gently and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Easy there, Beauty. I won’t hurt you. Your news just startled me.” With a couple of deep breaths, Beauty started trying to calm herself. Seeing her calming, Crossroads restated his questions, “You are sure his death came mid transfer? Not before or after?” Still a little shaken, all Beauty could do was nod. Gently taking her hand, so as to not set her off again, he ordered, “Take us there.” And they disappeared again.

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Meanwhile back in the first room, “-ck?” was heard as the man’s eyes snapped open. His first thought was, Why the hell is the ceiling eating the light? It took an understandably long time for him to do much else, but eventually he tried sitting up, eliciting a series of groans, curses, and mumbles. When he could finally get himself upright enough to see the extensive damage done to him all he could say was, “Yep, I’m dead. Really, really dead.” This was followed a few moments later with, “Seriously, how many times did they shoot me? Seems just a little overboard.” After stretching a little, poking a few fingers into a few holes, and checking to make sure the most important parts of his anatomy were still intact he spoke again, “I feel pretty good for a dead guy. I’m not sure what I thought the imaginary afterlife for me would look like, but this seems about right.” Further musings were interrupted by the arrival of Crossroads, Beauty, and the door.

Everyone in the room was shocked, but Crossroads spoke first. Turning a glare on Beauty and growling, “I thought you said he was dead.” Beauty’s mouth opened, but before she could speak, she was interrupted by the man’s laughter. Their eyes turned back to the laughing man on the table.

“I assure you, I am very much dead,” the man said when he managed to choke back his laughter, although his eyes still twinkled with mirth. Gesturing to his blood soaked and holey appearance he added, “Humans normally carry all this blood on the inside, not on their clothes.”

Crossroads snapped back, “We know how humans work. What we don’t understand is why you are up talking and moving when you are supposed to still be dead until I remedy that condition. Any thoughts on how this happened that you’d care to tell us?”

With a smirk on his face the man shoved himself back across the table until he could lean against the wall with his hands behind his head. Comfortable at last, he replied, “Nope. I thought you were the guy who comes to render Judgement on me for the afterlife, and this gorgeous lady was here to be my own personal Goddess by healing my wounds and soothing my soul. Looks like we all have to live with disappointment. Or die with… be dead with…. How would you put that anyways?” As though the thought was actually of great importance to him, the man leaned forward off the wall and rubbed his chin while staring vacantly at the runed surface of the table. Beauty, meanwhile, was smiling and blushing at the compliment. Even a goddess likes compliments.

Crossroads continued glaring sternly for a bit. This human was quite the conundrum. In his experience most people reacted badly to being dead. This one didn’t seem bothered at all. As to how he was ambulatory, Crossroads wasn’t at a complete loss. The most likely reason was that he died early in the transfer. This would mean that the reconstitution process had only just begun. The final step of the transfer was the reconnection of the soul to the body, thus negating its earlier separation through death. His body was still dead, but the connections were all there. His current condition more closely resembled the undeath state of a Lich than anything else. Still, dead or undead, due to his rather unique condition on entry to this world he fell under Crossroads purview, so he sighed and got to work.

“First things first. What’s your name, kid?” As he spoke Crossroads tossed a quickly made ball of Mana at the man who tried to catch it, but the ball sank into his skin. The man blinked and looked at his hand, only to see a couple of his many gunshot wounds starting to heal closed. The light tingling, milder than your hand trying to wake up after you fell asleep on it, distracted him enough that he didn’t even see the second ball of mana that flowed into his clothing, cleaning and repairing it much like the first was doing to his body. Smile growing on his face, he pulled up his shirt to see that all of his gunshot wounds appeared to be healing at the same rate. Being a human male he had to try poking one while it was healing, but Crossroads snapped at him again before he got too far, “Don’t poke it, you moron. You want your finger to be stuck in your stomach? I’m not healing that if it happens.” Crossroads huffed and crossed both pairs of arms. Beauty turned her head away to try and hide her giggles. The stupid things men do will never stop amussing her.

“Sorry, old timer. Never been healed magically before. Thanks for that,” the man nodded to show his thanks. “Name’s Dix. Pleased to meet you.” At this he smiled broadly and winked at Beauty, who blushed and giggled some more while shooting surreptitious looks towards his crotch. She obviously understood the innuendo behind the name. Crossroads just groaned and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like children.

Tall, dark, and handsome seemed to be the perfect description of Dix. Dark hair, beard, and eyes only seemed to highlight the contrast of the olive complexion. The hair was only an inch or so long, and the beard was trimmed close. While he had a slightly rounder face that would typically give him a more youthful look, the beard helped slim it down causing him to look older and more distinguished. At least until he smiled, and then the boyish charm with just a hint of wickedness came out strong. The medium build with the hard, solid muscles that indicated he worked hard instead of simply working out just added to his attractiveness. The whole physical package added to his confidence and blatant flirting had Beauty almost drooling.

When Crossroads brought his attention back to the situation at hand, Dix and Beauty were visually flirting even harder than before. Disgruntled, he tried clearing his throat repeatedly to get their attention, but eventually had to give up and just step between them. What I should do is fill the room with freezing water, Crossroads thought. There’s a chance it would kill the human, but at least it would definitely kill the mood these two are building. “Enough of that you two. Beauty, you may get your chance later, but for now he’s my responsibility.”

Beauty startled, and looked at Crossroads with puppy dog eyes, but he was unmoved and merely shook his head. Dix was impressed the man didn’t cave immediately, she put everyone he’d ever seen to shame with how well she performed that pleading look. Crossroads was struggling to keep his inner laughter hidden from the both of them while he shooed Beauty out the door. Eventually she went, but not before giving Dix a dazzling smile and a little wave as she slowly sashayed out the door. He was so entranced in watching her walk away, he failed to notice what was beyond the door before it closed. It took him a moment to gather himself again before he looked at Crossroads. The large, four armed man was just smirking at him, but snorted at the dazed look on his face. “Don’t be too surprised, she’s not a goddess of Beauty for nothing. You had her a little off her game at first, or you would have been her toy from the beginning. But enough of that, Dix, it’s time to get started. Let’s go.” With that, Crossroads offered Dix a hand to help him off the table.

Once Dix was standing, Crossroads gave his hand a shake before letting go. With a sweep of one of his other arms the door opened again. As he turned to lead the way he spoke over his shoulder, “Most of us gods don’t really have names like the mortals do, we just go by our titles. I am the God of the Crossroads. Welcome to Mantra.”