My name is Danuel Forstar, and I commit suicide for a living. The way I see it, if you’re immortal, you ought to have a little fun with it. New lives, new faces, no attachment. And no one could catch you if they tried.
It’s the biggest scam in the world, and I’m behind it all. Get caught? Commit suicide. Hightail it out in a body bag, escape. Repeat.
My name is Kisan Park. Face twenty-three. Oh, yes, I keep track. It pays to know who you’ve been to know where you’re going.
I’m sitting next to an snoring old geezer I once swindled out of a million bucks on a flight to Vegas. He was pretty pissed at the time, but bygones be bygones, and he didn’t miss any of it.
“Sir, wake up, they’re serving dinner.”
My name is Tomas Ikov. I died over a thousand years ago, right around the First World War. The face is new, but the name is not. And now