About
Welcome to Death Corp™. Every culture imagined death its own way— the hooded reaper, the ferryman, the judge behind the scales, the rider on the pale horse. They were all real, and they all answer to the same place: a sprawling, exhausted bureaucracy that has run the business of dying since the first jar broke and let mortality loose on the world. These days it wears the shape of a PMC. The paperwork is eternal, the coffee is always going cold, and the souls don't stop coming.
Entries
Death Corp — Sunday Team Breakfast
Recall Range: 6
Every Sunday morning König meets the team at a local breakfast place— the one warm fixture in the grim apparatus. Ghost, Gaz, Price, and Soap come. König buys, covering the whole table without comment, like the world's most exhausted father. He orders waffles, always— a small, fiercely guarded pleasure he won't be teased about twice. Business gets discussed sideways between bites. It is as close to peace as any of them get. Attendance is not mandatory. Everyone comes anyway.