They sit in chairs whose legs were broken off for weapons in race riots not too long before, around a table burned to ashes in the Great Chicago Fire, scrutinizing a deck of cards thrown out piecemeal almost thirty years ago. The Afterlife, as it turns out, has a place for inanimate objects as well as human souls. Its denizens have become grateful for this, for how else would they while away eternity?

North shuffles the cards. She's still an amateur at this; her fingers don't have the dexterity required to show the quick-moving arc of the cards as they slip in and out of place. A brown fedora, two bullet holes punched neatly in the left side, obscures her face and shades her dark eyes. A hank of her waist-length brown hair escapes from its position flowing down her back. She waits until the cards are mixed to her satisfaction, then tosses the wayward bit back over her shoulder, biting out a rather extreme curse in true New York fashion.

South smiles indulgently at her partner for this hand. The black woman, eldest of the group by a long shot, is more used to playing with a woman of her own age at the North seat, but she's experienced enough at this game not to be concerned with who sits opposite her. Her square, distinctive features are serene. There's a small spot on her faded blue work shirt, a bloodstain right over her heart. Of all the women at the table, she's the one who most spends her time in such games; she no longer cares enough about the land of the living to watch it.

East, on the other hand, has no choice. She's a strange case in that her body is technically still alive, but her soul, the essence of everything that she is, has been released. Because of her strange situation, she spends most of her time watching her sister and the thing that controls her body, raking her short black hair and muttering darkly in Hebrew. Straitlaced and serious, it's exceedingly rare that anyone can tempt her to a game of cards, and the way that her fingers drum a frenetic rhythm on the tabletop indicates that she wants this game to get moving in a hurry.

West takes the deck from North and cuts it in one swift motion. As North begins to deal, West stares at the cards in front of her, the bullet hole between her brows giving the impression of a psychic's third eye. Her white robes, and the sword leaning against one leg of the table, remind everyone that she took on the role of a guardian angel to her best friend- the woman who killed her in cold blood. She was the youngest when she died, barely into her twenties, but she has the most experience of the Afterlife, giving her an eerie maturity.

"Anyone goin' Blind Nil? Speak now or forever hold your peace," North says, pencil hovering over the scorepad. When everyone shakes their heads, she picks up her cards and gauges their worth. "East? Whaddya bid? East?"

But East's gaze is abstracted, distant, aimed towards the material world. She sighs involuntarily, wishing that she could reclaim her body. She knows that it will never happen; her brain has been rewired in the eight years intervening, and her soul would no longer fit. Still, she dreams.

"You need to quit obsessing," South says gently, putting her long-fingered hand on East's arm.

East shrugs off the gesture with an abrupt twitch. "What do you know, Reaper?" she snaps.

"I used to watch, just like you. But there comes a time when you can't anymore. Everyone you ever knew or cared for dies someday, dies or becomes somethin' you maybe can't stand to see anymore. You got to let go."

West defends her partner, and it surprises them all that the girl would speak so to the elder who mentored her in life. "We can't cut ourselves off as easily as you. We have people down there we still care about. I'm sworn to-"

"You're a fool and you know it. Guardian angel to the one who killed you? You're blind to what she's become. She's a religious fanatic now, one of those who'd kill us 'gain if they could."

"She was- *is*- my best friend, nothing else. Even then, she needs someone." West is a tough-looking woman, with a square jaw and blue eyes that can harden like diamonds, but the youthfulness of her features softens her somewhat and reveals her vulnerability.

South sighs. "I loved like that once, too. She was good to me in her way. But I always overshadowed her, and I guess she couldn't live with that."

"Since you're here, I'd say you're the one who couldn't live with it," North cuts in. "The two of youse can commiserate later. East, ya wanna bid already? You're holding us up here, and I'd like to get this done sometime before Last Judgment, if it's all the same to ya." The undercurrent of humor in her voice is slight, but it's just enough for everyone to calm down and focus on the game. East bids nil, South four, West six to cover her partner. North fills in with the other three, and they set to work over the cards. It's quiet for a long time.

West breaks the silence as she opens up the trumps. "Do you ever wish you could go back?"

"Not often. Just, ya know, every second," North replies. She takes off her fedora and puts it on her lap. The face underneath has a gentle beauty to it, a snub nose and round cheeks that had her being carded for ten years past the normal time. One hand holds her cards, while the other fiddles with the hat in her lap.

"I ought to be back. I should be the one down there!" East growls.

"You need to relax. You can't go back. When are you kids gonna learn this?" South softens her harsh words with a smile. "Things change down there, don't you understand? People change. None of us fit there anymore. Now, East, take that trick, you should have played your ace under your partner's trump."

"Stupid American game," East grumbles, reluctantly taking the trick.

"Aw, c'mon, just 'cause ya don't know how to bid doesn't mean the game's stupid," North needles. It doesn't take long for her to figure out that needling a trained soldier is a bad idea, and South has to leap from her chair to separate them. They play through in profound silence, only scores and bids breaking it, each woman lost in her thoughts. North finally restarts the actual conversation three hands later; she figures that it might bring her luck. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taunted ya like that. I'm just on edge."

"Seems like you're always on edge," East mutters, but she takes the apology in the spirit in which it was meant. She and West put together a run of tricks that has them make their bid and send North and South down in flames. The well-played hand is enough to put East and West over the top.

"Nice game," South says. "Again?"

"No thanks. I've been shirking my duty too long," West replies. She picks up her sword, adjusts her robes, and sets off across Infinity. North puts her fedora back on and also takes her leave of the game. South shares a look with East, offers a smile, but the angry young woman wants no part of her. She stalks away quickly, leaving South to sigh and shuffle the cards.