Deathstroke's question did not change the smile on Death's pale little face. With an adorable expression, she held out her small hand, its fingers like water lily petals rising from the mud against the black lace gloves.
Wrinkling her nose, she said, "Come on. You know."
"Wait, beautiful." Deadpool leaned closer, looking first at the familiar yet unfamiliar Death, then at his cousin, who was still focused on the battlefield. "This isn't what I think it is, is it? Slade's time is up, and all he has to do is take your hand, then he goes 'urk' and dies?"
"Oh? You know quite a bit." Death blinked and replied with a smile, "When an ordinary person dies, I do indeed come to their side, hold out my hand to the deceased, listen to their wishes and regrets, then take them from this world to line up in my Black-and-White Garden."
This was Death's special ability. As a Concept Entity, she could manifest in countless forms and appear beside innumerable people almost simultaneously, guiding them away to stand in line.
Because "death" itself was a concept, she was everywhere.
The time of death was decreed by Destiny, not a second early or late, but the time for entering the cycle of reincarnation was up to Death. If a soul did not find Death's Realm, with nothing but black and white, boring, it did not matter if it stayed there for ten days or half a month.
Though Death brought people back to her dimension every day, she did not work around the clock. Sometimes, she took time to wander about, visit her siblings, or find somewhere to bask in the sun.
Those meant to die would still die, and after death, they would line up. If necessary, she could even ask