The woman Reaper stood there as Death questioned the group. None of them knew where the scythe was. It really didn't even matter to them, for their goal hadn't been the weapon. Of course if they knew Death was powerless without they might have cared. But as it stood they neither knew nor cared. The woman instead waited for what she needed to happen, Death to start the beginning of the end for the humans. What she did not expect was the chastisement. The job tugged at her but she resisted. 

No. Not yet. She thought even as other dissipated.Leaving now would be like trying to contain a hurricane in a teacup. Impossible. There was no stopping the inevitable. There were too many. And all Death Cared about was the souls and his scythe. Was this a good thing? Would he restore balance, or get swept under?

"Can you truly do it?" The woman asked. The few Reapers still attending leaned in, waiting the answer. "Can you make the population smaller?" The closet emotion on her face was need. She needed to be able to do her job. More than she needed anything else.