A man walks by, limping.

"Hey, you ok?"

The figure turns. It's eyes glow bright with rage, and it has very withered skin with no flesh. It emits an ear-piecing scream, and Reaper can suddenly not move an inch. The thing puts its bony fingers on Reaper's forehead, and a large of the most severe pain he's ever felt goes through his mind, as he heard a screeching in his ears and someone speaking in a scratchy and hoarse voice, their volume of speech slowly rising. Reaper cannot pull his eyes away from the beady, sunken eyes of the figure. A man can be seen in the eyes, smiling. "Reaper... You are cold, unforgiving, driven to kill. There is a small glimmer of hope in you, one that shall soon be crushed."