Humanity has found a way to live forever: Death is actually super insecure and every time he shows up to take a life they bully him for his fashion sense and tell him that nobody likes him. Now Death has lost his confidence and has completely stopped doing his job. The world is getting overpopulated and it's a serious problem. You have been chosen to give death a pep talk and help him in regaining his confidence so the world can be in balance once more.

~~~

"It will sting, then you won't feel a thing."

"I know, you guys keep saying that," Oliver muttered under his breath to one of the several doctors surrounding him. It was so awkward and no matter how he laid he just couldn't get comfortable. Oliver was laying in a hospital bed surrounded by a large crowd in the medium-sized room. Several doctors and nurses, even a few very carefully selected new reporters and their cameramen. The doctors allowed Oliver to stay in his normal clothes and not an awful hospital gown for the... process.

There wasn't much of a process honestly. Oliver was hooked up to a steady IV drip and it would be very simple to kill him. Well, that was the goal. It would put his body in a state of limbo per se, as death hasn't happened in years actually. Oliver was randomly selected out of many volunteers to perform this important task. After taking weeks of classes, all over communication, body language, and many other mind-numbing tasks, all was set.

Some nurse held his hand as the doctors crowded around his IV and monitors, all mumbling to each other under their face masks. It was only a moment later he felt so tired. Olver's head dropped back against the uncomfortable hospital pillow. It felt like a veil of sleep was being laid over him, starting with his toes and working his way up.

The constant beeping in the room was slowing as the camera crew moved closer despite the line taped on the floor to mark their limits. Oliver could make out the fuzzy outline of his reflection on the lens. He was old, run down and tired. His hair was white if not all gone, his skin wrinkled with age that surpassed the norm. His sunken blue eyes held a tired and abandoned look like a newborn kitten left on the street to die in the bitter winter. He had monitors stuck all over his body, from his arms to his chest all the way up to his nearly bald head.

"Oliver? Can you hear me... Oliver?" The nurse asked, squeezing his hand. Oliver felt it yet didn't. He was just so tired now. His tongue felt huge in his mouth, words impossible. It was just best if he closed his eyes and sleep. Yes, that sounded so nice.

As his eyes closed the gentle beeping of the monitor filled his ears, though with ever beep it got softer and softer as if it was being pulled far away from his bedside.

He was awake, perfectly fine and energetic even. Oliver hopped out of bed, only to notice he felt lighter than air. His creaking bones were silent, the pain in his left ankle nonexistent. It was a beautiful feeling he was simply begging to feel for so many years.

A steady paced beeping filled the room, and it was oddly comforting to hear it. Oliver frowned, his mind taken away the wonderous pain-free body he now had and saw everyone in the room staring at... him, laying on the bed. The monitor showed he had a completely steady heart rate, pulse, and vitals. Though on another screen it also showed there was utterly no brain activity going on.

It was strange watching himself lay there, but he was mentally prepped for it before. He only had an hour before he was sucked right back into his body. Death was nearby, they told him that much. He was forcefully summoned whenever someone passed away. Now, all he had to do was fine the poor thing and give him a proper pep-talk.

A quick survey of the room showed no signs of death, he must have slipped out before Oliver even opened his eyes. Quick and silent, as Oliver was warned before. The elderly man walked out of the overcrowded room, walking through the people in his way. It was a strange sensation, overly warm and suffocating, but they were in his way.

As he walking through the large door he spotted Death. He looked exactly as they all described. Tall with a flowing dark hooded cloak that covered his head. Oddly enough there was something new about him, he was wearing a plague doctor's mask- Oliver hadn't been warned about that.

The entity was just staring at him, or at least Oliver assumed so. The eye holes on the mask were tinted black, he couldn't see a thing through them.

'Death, we have been waiting for you.' Is what Oliver would naturally say, but through his training classes, he learned that saying it such a way put the blame on the person you were talking to, making them feel guilty for keeping you waiting. 'Death, I'm so glad you're here," he carefully spoke, putting a smile on his face. Nothing was more friendly than a smile!

"Glad?" The entity spoke in a hushed voice.

'Well, of course, we need your help.' That was also wrong, sounded like that only liked him for the things he does. While that might be true, it wasn't the approach needed. "You bet I'm glad Death. I've been so eager to meet you."

"I don't know why you would be eager," Death spoke as he started to pull away, turning to leave.

"Wait, don't go!" Oliver quickly yelled and moved forward in front of Death with unusual speed for his old age. He also felt like he was a teen again, able to actually move without his creaking joints hurting. "I really wanted to see you, talk to you. I know you've been bullied, they hurt you so bad... Is that why you're wearing that mask?"

At first, they only insulted his clothes, but he heard right before Death quit altogether the insults had increased to insulting his whole being and personal appearance, which seemed to be the final straw for the worn out entity. Anything to keep their lives, it seemed so selfish now with everyone suffering from the effects of overpopulation now.

"I wear this mask to..."

'It doesn't matter.' That would get the point across, but he needed to speak more gingerly to this heartbroken man. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. Whatever the reason it's valid, you have no reason to make excuses." Oliver relaxed as Death stopped, staring back down at Oliver. The old man was able to properly size Death now. This man was certainly at least 6 foot, if not more. "Keep it on if it makes you comfortable, Death. I think it completes your look."

"It does?" He asked in the same whispery voice. Oliver was beginning to think that was just Death's natural voice.

"Well yes. That mask belongs to the plague doctors if I'm not mistaken. They traveled miles upon miles to help the dying and sick, save them from their suffering. The mask kept them safe- well as safe as they thought they could be." Oliver tried not to talk quickly. He didn't want to rush this conversation, but the time limit was weighing heavy on his mind. "You help people stop their suffering. You're a doctor in a way."

"I... I'm no doctor, I kill them." Death said, his head dropping in defeat suddenly.

"You save them, you help them. You have such an important role in everything and you've never been thanked for it. Death, you're amazing and do so much to help people. Humankind thanks you, and we're sorry for our ignorance."

"Human, people don't want to die. I understand that now. I'm leaving them be."

"But we want you to come back Death. We need you," Oliver pleaded. He reached forward, taking one of Death's hands into his own. Death's hands were surprisingly soft, the skin smooth and taut. Oliver could image Death looking like a young man under that mask now. "Young man," he continued without letting Death interrupt him, "You're important. To me, to everyone in his hospital, to this world. You might not see your importance, but you are so important. Please, return to us."

"You want to die?" Death spoke, his voice is even softer than before.

"Yes Death, I wish for it. So do others, we need you."

"I can't fix this all at once, it will take awhile. There is much to do. I can't do it."

"You can! We believe in you!" Oliver said cheerfully, lightly patting Death's hand to give him comfort. "You're Death, you can do this."

"I can't... Not alone. Oliver, why don't you join me? We'll be Death, together."

Oliver felt his tongue turn to cotton. He stared up to Death like a gaping fish, his mouth hanging open. Be Death with... Death?

"I-I-I'm only human."

"So was I... Everything starts out as something else. Seed to a flower, rain to an ocean, human to Death. You can join me, help me fix my wrongs. It would be nice to not be so alone."

How could he leave Death alone now?

"I'll join you, Death."

"We're Death now, Oliver. Call me Maxis," he said surprisingly cheerfully. He took Oliver's hand, and much to the use to be mortal's surprise the wrinkles on his hands were gone. The clothes he was wearing changed to, shifting to ripped jeans and his old and almost forgotten band shirt. He could feel something soft on top of his head, hair! His black curly locks had returned.

Maxis removed his mask slowly. His green eyes were stunning and his sun-kissed skin could make anyone's heart skip a beat. Oliver stood there in shock, looking between himself and Maxis.

"I don't understand..."

"I'll explain everything with time, my new friend," Maxis spoke comfortingly. He held Oliver's hand, guiding the now young teen back into his hospital room. Everything was going crazy in there. Doctors and nurses were crying tears of joy, the news reports were in awe. The vitals on the monitor showed nothing, no pulse, no heartbeat- he was officially dead.

One of the doctors pulled out from their tearful hug and called the time of death, bringing cheers from all around the room.

Oliver turned to Maxis, seeing his eyes filled with shock as he now stood there slack-jawed.

"I told you, we missed you. We're so glad you're back."