Hey, what's up? I'm Sonny. Just Sonny.
I had a last name once, but for the life of me, I just can't recall it. In fact, I'm pretty sure Sonny isn't even my real first name. But enough about that. I've been a soul collector for about three centuries, maybe two and a half. Basically that's like a grim reaper, but a lot less scary and way more bureaucratic. Well, I'm a little scary. The projection of my skin has been rotting off my bones for quite a while. There's about 100 of us, but the workload still piles up. I honestly couldn't tell you the name of a single soul I've collected. Though in all honesty, after three centuries, my memory has pretty much gone down the toilet. So has my general sympathy for just about anything. Right now I just want to make my soul quota so that I can finally be allowed to pass into the next plane. They say its awesome, but I still have another 200 years before I'll ever come close to finishing my list. That is unless I succeed in this wild goose chase they've assigned me to. Some poor schmuck got his body hijacked by a hell monster and because I technically reaped the host's soul, they expect me to help him get it back. Whatever gets me to heaven faster, though I have a sneaking suspicion that this situation may be a whole lot bigger than it appears...