Reap the World
Reapers. They are beings who exist to take the souls of those who have died over the border into the next life.
However, things do not always go as anticipated; there is strife amongst the ranks; A war is brewing between the Angels and the Demons, the destructive 'negatives' are on the move, and the growing threat of the mysterious 'Reap The World Foundation' strikes fear into those who would oppose the advancing chaos...
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Chapter One - Fatal Slide
Greetings! So, I mentioned I was writing a story. And now by the powers of persuasion, I am posting the first chapter. Still not perfect, but it's better than anything else I've written, really, both in length and quality. (last thing I did was 200 words per chapter. :P)
I am aware this first chapter is more or less entirely mindless killing, but I needed to demonstrate how the reapers operate, and I promise that it will be more character focused in the successive chapters. All that remains to say is I hope you enjoy, and leave me some critique, which'd be much appreciated! Thanks. :)
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Chapter One - Fatal Slide
The reaper sat silently, perched upon the rooftop's edge like a surreal human gargoyle. Her body did not move, not even to take a breath, for she needed none. Her apparel, a dull black hooded jacket, and faded grey combat trousers, made her almost blend in with the mundane stonework of the aged block of flats.
Eleven were to die tonight.
Who exactly, and why, she had no idea, but that was how it went. Time, place, and body count. That was all they got. But it was sufficient, and it added to the fun of it all to find out the means when you got there. If you enjoyed that sort of thing.
The street below was mildly bustling; it was a Tuesday night, but as it was also approaching Christmas time, there was a somewhat larger number of people out and about, trying to finish off whatever shopping they could do in the peace.
A child called out in dismay; it stood almost motionless, an ice-cream cone, minus the ice-cream, was grasped tightly in its gloved right hand, and it had a certain look of horror on its face, not really being able to process the loss. It began to wail, until its mother rushed to its side and lifted it up onto her shoulder, comforting it. What on earth a child was doing eating ice-cream at this time of night, the reaper had no idea, she mused.
It was at this point that she noted the man. He wore a battered brown long coat, and walked with a somewhat severe stagger. He flailed his arms erratically with each pace, and mad eyes darted back and forth under a thick layer of wild and matted hair. What could possibly be described as words emanated from his mouth, in a seemingly random order, and making little more sense than the distressed child who had just recently been distracted by a large soft toy animal to alleviate its wails.
This could be interesting...she thought to herself.
She was right. The man placed his left foot firmly in the spilled ice-cream, and as it proceeded on its way out from under him he yelled violently, thrashing his arms in all directions, as if he expected to be lifted up in some bizarre flying motion and save himself from falling. There was a crunch as he hit the ground. The woman cradling the child turned, to see the disgruntled man lift himself from the ground slowly. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, for he had landed flat on his face. It stained his hair, and the front of his already dirtied shirt.
His left arm receded into the depths of the jacket, and on its return his hand gripped what appeared to be some form of automatic handgun. It, like its owner, was battered, and dirtied, its once shining surfaces scratched and dull. However, that is not to say it wasn't perfectly capable of performing its job as a deadly weapon.
The woman screamed, clutching her child closer, and fleeing quickly away from the man, her high heels making an echoing clatter against the cobbled street. The rest of the crowd that had gathered began to do the same.
The man stumbled upright, and let out a low growl. He took one shambling step forward, swinging his arm around in a wide arc, until it was pointed directly in front of him. He squeezed the trigger, and his arm was thrown in a tangent upwards, as a single burst from the weapon fired four bullets towards the crowd.
A man shouted out in pain, as one of the bullets caught him in the shoulder, throwing him forward to the ground, where he writhed in pain, clutching at the wound. Another came to his side, trying to help him up, but upon glancing at the assailant he lost his nerve and began to run with the others.
The pistol was brought around, and this time one of the bullets pierced the back of the wounded man's skull, killing him instantly. A second and third bullet caught two more, killing the first outright, and knocking the second to the ground.
Again and again, shots rang out, and bullets lodged themselves in those who stopped to help, or were unfortunate enough not to run fast enough to get out of the range of the crazed gunman.
The reaper sat watching in bemusement. She had seen plenty of gun crime, but none instigated by a rogue ice-cream. Blood ran in little red streams down the street gutters, and swirled into the drains. It was almost pretty, against the light layer of snow.
The police arrived, the sirens on the car blaring out for all to hear. It skidded to a halt, some distance from the shooter. Three of them. The first, a man in his late thirties, with a thick head of brown hair, and determination in his eyes, ran swiftly forward, and dived behind a large stone bench, his gun raised ready. The others stayed crouched behind the open doors of the police car, somewhat less courageous than their younger colleague, but with good reason; those who tried too hard to be heroes always tended to find themselves with severe cases of death.
He was frantically motioning for them to follow, but they shook their heads, indicating that there was no way in hell they were moving from where they were. The lead man closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on something, and as his eyes opened, he rose, stepping out from his cover, and bellowing at the top of his voice.
'Drop your weapon, and put your hands behind your head! You are under arrest!'
The shooter swung around, looking down the barrel of the gun that was now pointed at him. He seemed to consider the officer for a moment, his eyes revealed nothing; they looked as if glazed over, as if the man was some sort of walking dead. A single shot burst from his automatic weapon, catching the officer in the right leg. He crumpled sideways, his weapon still shakily pointed at the gunman. He fired twice, the first round catching the assailant in the stomach, and the second catching the side of his neck, and bright crimson fluid sprayed from the arterial wound. The man roared, clutching the side of his neck, and emptied the rest of the clip into the wounded police man, who collapsed to the ground, peppered with bullet holes across his whole torso. The bullet proof jacket he wore could only do so much, and many of the rounds had pierced his flesh.
The other two officers leapt from their cover, firing off several round into the staggering figure, too late. He reeled, knocked backwards, spinning, as the bullets impacted his form. He too collapsed, the weapon clattering to the ground beside him.
The two ran to the side of their fallen comrade, his eyes were closed, and his breathing heavy.
'Christ, Paul, what the hell were you thinking? You can't act the god damned hero the whole time! You'll get yourself killed!' one said shakily, as the other frantically dialled for an ambulance.
'It's just how... I do things. You know me. I can't just stand by and let... bastards like that get away. I had to... do something.' he said, stuttering, and coughing.
He let out a groan, clutching his stomach, and sank back to the ground.
'Oh shit, I think he's dead! Get a god damned ambulance already!' the officer yelled to his partner, who stared back at him, panic in his eyes, still talking rapidly down the phone.
The reaper smiled. It had reached it's conclusion. She shifted position, rising, slowly. Her face was concealed entirely by the hood of her jacket, and as such no expression could be interpreted as she leaned forward over the edge, and fell. The wind whistled in her ears, as she fell the eight stories downwards, head first, towards the solid concrete of the pavement below.
And as she halted, it might have been observed that she had not in fact, hit the ground, but was hovering upside down, mere millimetres from the surface. She gracefully spun herself round, until she was once again upright, and her feet touched down.
She closed her eyes, and it was as if the fabric of reality itself was being distorted, as ripples bounded outwards from her form. Azure light began to pool around the bodies of those who had fallen, and the same light could be seen faintly within the bodies of the two officers crouched by their fallen friend. It could even be seen in the trees that lined the pavements at regular intervals, and in the weeds that poked through the paving below her.
She walked slowly forward, past the body of the shooter himself, and towards the first man to have fallen. She held out her hand, and the light enveloping the man's body began to pulsate, as if it was trying to tear itself free. It coiled upwards towards the reaper's outstretched hand, quivering as it tried to touch the nearest finger.
She moved her hand slightly, connecting with the light, and it shone brighter than ever, shimmering, and shifting, taking a form that vaguely resembled that of the body from whence it came. The face, unpronounced, but still very much a face, seemed to smile, and the light bowed its head forward slightly.
The reaper retracted her hand, and pulled from behind her what seemed to be a small, yet elegant sickle. Its blade was bright silver, and was engraved with deep swirling designs. The handle too, made of a dark wood, was engraved, and bore similar markings. She swung it round swiftly, and almost without thought, cutting through the middle of the ethereal figure. The light burst into millions of tiny firefly-like entities, which began to converge on the sickle, pouring into its blade, and causing the intricate designs to glow the same azure blue as they did.
More reapers had appeared now, performing the same task she had. She noted the different appearances of those dealing with the gunman and the officer; the one dealing with the latter seemed to glow with a dim white light, and had some form of fractal wing hovering behind its left shoulder, while the other had a long thin tail, ending in a bladed point, and what appeared to be two small horns protruding from its forehead.
These were angels and demons. Reapers who dealt only with those who were abnormally wicked or pure. While not common, she had seen them before, but never approached. She kept to herself.
She collected the light from two more bodies, before replacing her sickle into whatever mysterious place she had pulled it from to begin with, and began walking down the street, past the ambulances, the paramedics still performing procedures on the wounded, and the police officers taking statements from witnesses. The startled mother with child, both stood eerily silent.
And the reaper faded into the cold night.
Chapter Two - Hangman
Chapter Two - Hangman
Dust was thrown up as her footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. A mild breeze blew through, catching the white bangs of her hair and throwing them over her face. A hand was raised to brush them back. She raised the ceramic tablet she was holding, checking again the information displayed on it.
13:23 | Morton Building Site | 1
The problem with this sort of instruction was that the building site was a rather large area to search for a single body; she had been walking through the empty skeletons of buildings for a good fifteen minutes now.
She was getting agitated.
Wandering further along the corridor, she peered inside the rooms to her left and right; some were almost completed; you could imagine people working or living in them. Others did not even have walls, and you could see out over the vast muddy area upon which the buildings were being constructed.
It was only once she reached the final room, the one at the very end of the long corridor, with a rather imposing door, complete with security pad, already secured firmly in place, that she found her objective.
She smirked. Such measures would certainly have given the average human a run for their money, but she was a reaper. And such hindrances as solid locked doors proved little issue to her. She placed her hand on the door, which rippled, bending and contorting around her outstretched fingers, which proceeded to pass through the door, the rest of her following.
Tarpaulin billowed in the wind, secured to the framework that would provide the support for walls later in this buildings life. Hanging from a girder that spanned the length of the room, was a rope. And hanging from the rope, several feet up in the air, for it was a tall room, was a man. A dead man. She couldn't help but chuckle at the safety helmet that was secured firmly to the top of his head.
'Not like anything falling on your head will make any difference now, right pal?' she said out loud, to the rest of the room, although there was no-one there, strictly speaking, to hear her.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated upon seeing the azure light within all living things. The tide of distortion rose out of her, and rushed outwards. As the wave passed through the body of the man, which gently drifted from side to side in the breeze, Little beads of blue light began to emerge from within, slowly engulfing the whole form.
The reaper took a step back, bracing herself, and then took a great leap forwards, and upwards, into the air. She rose gracefully, in a large arc, her arm following in its own curve, her beautiful sickle gripped firmly in hand. It passed through the body, and the light burst apart, filling the entire room with its luminance.
She stood up slowly from her landing, awaiting the formation of the next form of the light. But she did not expect what she heard next.
A voice behind her suddenly exclaimed, rather loudly, 'I'm DEAD?! This is not bloody cool, guys!'
She spun round. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. The light had converged, sure, but the form it had taken seemed more like the original than the normal hazy replica. And it could talk. This might be a problem.
'What the hell? What the hell are you?' she said quietly, advancing towards the entity. This was not standard. It was not normal. Therefore it was potentially dangerous and had to be removed. The entity flailed its vaguely transparent arms, and floated back slightly.
'I see that bloody knife...thing you got behind you there! Stay the hell away from me, kid!' he shouted. Then he looked puzzled, and examined his hands. 'Wait a bloody second here! I'm DEAD. You can't kill me with that stinkin' little knife o' yours!' he began to laugh, almost manically. The reaper sighed, putting her sickle behind her back and letting it disappear into its own little dimension.
'Listen you. I don't know what the heck you are, or how you can even talk, but I am a Reaper. It is my DUTY to take the life energy of the recently deceased. You are recently deceased. I require your 'soul', as you so quaintly put it, so that I can finish my job for today. Just stay still, it won't hurt. And anyway, you'll be going to a better place regardless.'
She held out her hand, but the 'ghost', or whatever you wanted to call it, folded its arms, and looked away. She narrowed her eyes, and withdrew the hand. Wonderful. Not only was this one an anomaly, but he was also a prick. What a brilliant combination. She placed her hands on her hips, and struck an aggressive pose.
'Let me get this straight; you are REFUSING to die?' she snapped. Sure, this could happen now and again, but usually the entity that emerged was mute, and simply indicated disapproval as it was reaped, and verbalised its views at the later stages, but this one was different. If she couldn't even get close enough to reap it, she might have to contact her superiors. And that never ended well for field level reaper. In response to her question, the 'ghost' was grinning rather maliciously.
'I do believe I am, luv. Wotcha gonna do about it?' he leaned forward as he said it, speaking slowly, and in a low tone, mocking her. He chuckled yet again. 'I don't think you CAN do anything. If I just keep outta the road of that stupid little swordy thing you've got, you can't do anything ta me!' He turned, and propelled himself through the tarpaulin behind him. The reaper closed her eyes, and rubbed her face. This was going to be a long day indeed. She ran swiftly in pursuit, phasing through the tarp, and summoning her sickle. She glared at her prey, which seemed to be making fairly fast headway away from her. Kicking off thin air, she launched herself after him, bouncing every few metres, then gliding, like some surreal dance, flipping, and spinning.
'Get back here you! You hung yourself! Why would you not want to die anyway?! This makes no sense!' She called out. The ghost turned, continuing at his current speed, but facing back towards her. He looked troubled.
'Hung myself? I ain't friggin' retarded lady! Someone ELSE killed me, I tells ya! And I'm gonna find out who it wos!' He called back, increasing his lead ever further. This puzzled the Reaper. You see someone hung by a rope, and you presume suicide. She then recalled that it had taken her some time to find the body. Was it possible that it had been placed there, and the culprits had left? Although normally she would not care, if she filed this as a suicide, and later it emerged that it had in fact been murder, she would be in even more trouble than if she never caught this troublesome little pest. She decided to try a different tactic.
'Alright then. What if I help you find out who killed you? Slow down. I won't take your soul just yet. Honest.' She removed her weapon, presenting her empty palms as a sign of peace. He hesitated. 'Come on, how else are you gonna find them? I'm a GRIM REAPER for goodness sake. I'm the best you're going to get.'
'Fine then. You win.' The ghost relented, slowing down to a standstill, or rather, a floatstill. He began drifting back towards the Reaper, who was now simply hovering in a single spot, causing obvious distress to the rippling air below her feet. A bit of space manipulation here and there didn't hurt anyone. 'So... Where does we start, then?' the ghost inquired.
'At the beginning. I need to work out who would want to kill you. Tell me... about yourself.' The reaper replied. This was going to be a VERY long day.
Chapter Three - Partners
Chapter Three - Partners
'So, let me get dis straight, den. You do... wot, exactly?' the ghost said for the fourth time in about 20 minutes.
The reaper sighed. Some people just were not capable of listening. She ran her fingers through her snowy white hair, turned round to face her companion, with a look of despair on her face. Trying to get to the bottom of this guy's death was proving more trouble than it was worth. They had discussed practically his entire life, all those who he had met, all those who might have had a reason to kill him, and more importantly, cover it up as a suicide. It had been useless; the man was not charismatic, far from it, but on the other hand, he wasn't universally hated. No-one really had any particular drive to kill him, from what she gathered.
'Ok. From the top. I, am a reaper. That means I work under the instruction of Death herself, and collect the life energy, or, 'souls', as you called them, of those who meet the conditions of reaping. We are given a place, and a time, and the number of dead, and that is all. We draw the very essence of life from the body, which is easy enough, as it generally wishes to be freed from its mortal coils to begin with. However, this is where things differ in your case. Normally, a form is taken which vaguely resembles that of its human appearance. But it cannot talk, it cannot run. You can. You are... are....' she grasped at a suitable word. The ghost supplied it.
'A freak?' He suggested. She smiled. Such a ridiculous term when dealing with such matters, but it would suffice.
'Yes, a freak. That shall do. Anyway. You were able to retaliate, to run away. This in itself is enough for this whole case to be taken from me and investigated. But... that would not look good for me, you understand. This was supposed to be a simple, single body reap, but something has gotten messed up somewhere along the line. I must get to the bottom of it, for my benefit, as much as yours.'
She stood up from the park bench upon which the pair had been sitting. Or at least, she had been sitting on it. He had merely been floating slightly above it, for he was no longer tangible. She began to walk along the path, her hands in the deep pockets of her jacket. Despite the frosty cold of the evening, she did not shiver. She could quite easily remove all feeling, but she found it more... involving to retain at least the basic feeling of temperature, the tastes of foods, and suchlike, if not the negative sensations that often accompanied the positive.
'C'mon. We're moving along. Where would you usually be at this hour, if it were not for your demise?' she asked casually, despite the weight in the question. She was used to death, throwing about terms like 'demise' was normal for her, if not a bit distressing for those she was talking to.
The ghost pondered, bringing an arm up, as if to check a watch, before realising there was nothing there. He looked confused for a moment, before acknowledging the reason. He pondered, then replied.
'Probably in tha pub, with me mates, if ya must know. Why?' he replied.
The reaper looked at him. 'Who are your 'mates', exactly? I do not remember you saying anything about you having drinking partners.' The ghost shrugged.
'Well I didn't think dat me bloody business partners'd have it in fer me, did I? He said, seeming exasperated. The reaper's eyes opened wider.
'BUSINESS PARTNERS?' she exclaimed, stepping up close to the ghost. 'How foolish ARE you?! Anyone who has partners in business is an obvious target! They could easily want to write you out of the picture, take everything for themselves! Right, what pub do you go to?'
The ghost was shaken, but he responded, if nervously. 'Uh, da Grand Fox, down main street. Da one with the big wooden sign and that. Very propa', you know.'
The reaper nodded. She had taken a fair number of lives in that place, over the years. The pub was known for its brawls. And their high fatality rate. She could quite easily picture this one, and his... partners, frequenting there.
The ground seemed to shake, the air began to fizzle, and ripple. The ghost looked around frantically, a look of fear covering his face. The reaper turned to him, and nodded, as a giant shockwave passed over them. In what seemed like an instant, the two were outside the door of 'The Grand Fox Public House'. The ghost spun round towards the reaper.
'Did you just do dat? What da hell wos it?' he asked, looking in awe back and forth between the building and the reaper who had brought him to it. She laughed, as she walked through him and pushed open the door, walking inside. The pub was crowded, few looked up from their current distractions to see who had just entered. This was probably a good thing. She was currently visible to human eyes. This was partly personal preference, and partly because if she caught the person who had caused her all this trouble in the first place, she wanted them to see her face as she punched their lights out.
She sat down on a vacant stool at the bar, and raised a hand for the barman. She waited patiently, arm raised, for around five minutes, before the man realised she was there. He walked over, a look of disdain on his face.
'Yes?' he asked, bluntly, obviously at odds with her in some way, shape, or form. She smiled, as she drew a card from her pocket, and thrust it in the man's face.
'This is my ID, as you can see. So I would MUCH appreciate it if you stopped being a prick, and served me. Thank you.' she said, and withdrew the card. 'Give me a pint of whatever you've got going that isn't pisswater. You know what I mean.'
she extracted a note from her pocket, and placed it on the table. 'Keep the change.' she said, absent mindedly, turning away to survey the room. The barman was about to retort, when he observed the value of the note that he had just received. A large '£100' was printed upon it. He wordlessly lifted it, placed it in the register, and poured his new favourite patron's drink, bringing it over to her immediately.
'There you are, miss. Can I get you anything else?' he said, a somewhat ridiculous grin on his face.
'No, thank you, barkeep. That will be all this evening.' she replied curtly, still studying the room. He nodded, and began to deal with some of his other customers.
The reaper noted every person in the room. The completely intoxicated irish man in the corner, singing loudly to no-one in particular, the couple sitting at a table, holding hands, staring into each other's eyes as if in some sort of epic staring contest, the group of lads wearing their football tops, cheering and booing at the small TV raised above the bar itself, completely absorbed in the game that was being broadcast. The most interesting, however, were the two men who sat further down the bar from her. They had not noticed her walk in, or her dialog with the barman. She took a sip of her beer, and focused upon the words of the men. She could tell they were the ones she was looking for, mainly because her ghostly friend was currently circling them, bellowing at the top of his voice. It was futile, for he was invisible to all but she, or another reaper. Phasing out his shouts, she listened.
'-So den I says to 'im dat I'm comin' inta a whole lot of money soon, so he can go screw himsel' if he thinks dat I'm takin' any stinkin' deal like that!' the one closest to her said, and his companion roared with laughter. She took another sip.
The laughing man recovered, and began speaking himself. 'Right, so, now we've got 'im outta tha game, we need ta go pay our friend fer his services, eh? I don't fink we really want ta try screwin' him over, do we?' he said. His partner nodded sagely.
'Yeh. Let's get outta 'ere and do it tha now. You've got enough on ya, don'tcha?' he said, rising from his stool. The other nodded in agreement, and they both walked out of the door. The reaper downed the rest of her beer quickly, and stepped away from her seat, and out into the cold night.
'What da fuck? What da hell were dey talkin' about?' she heard the ghost say behind her. She sighed. The poor sap really was oblivious sometimes. She could not stop and explain, she had to tail the men as quickly as she could. She had already phased out of reality, but if she lost sight of them, she had no way of finding them again easily.
'They were talking about you. They must have paid someone to kill you. That's why I'm following them, I need to find out who it was.' She said, breaking into a run. The targets were already perilously close to disappearing into the crowd, she needed to be right behind them at all times.
'But why would dey do that? We wos partners!' he exclaimed.
'That didn't matter. To them you were just another body to take a cut of the money. By eliminating you, they get a LOT more of the money from your business.' she replied. He had to accept it, or he wouldn't be able to move on. And after all this she damn sure wasn't letting him just refuse to die. Again.
She finally caught up to them, as they turned into a backalley beside a rather loud nightclub. They walked for a few minutes, before stopped outside a large steel door, with a slit built into it. Rivets lined its surfaces; this was not a door that a mortal could easily break down if they tried. The men knocked the door four times, then stood back. The slit opened.
'Yes?' a voice from inside inquired. The man on the left answered.
'We're here about payment.' he said briefly, stepping slightly closer to the door.
'Payment for who?' the voice asked.
'The uh, foundation.' the man replied. There was movement on the other side of the door, the slot closed, and there was the sound of bolts and mechanisms being pulled back and disabled. The door swung outwards, and an arm beckoned the two into the darkness. It slammed shut.
The reaper waited a moment, before stepping up to the door, and pressing her hand to it. A sudden burst of electricity arced across her body, and she was propelled backwards into the wall opposite to the door. She slammed off the brickwork, and fell to the ground.
'What on earth?...' she whispered.
Chapter Four – Confrontation
Chapter Four – Confrontation
The reaper was not really sure what had just happened. A physical object could not just reject her phase ability like that; it surely wasn't possible! She rose slowly to her feet, steadying her shaking hands upon her knees. She looked up at the door, which still had some residual sparks leaping across it's surface and discharging upon the surrounding walls.
'That can't be...' she murmured, taking a step forward.
Her ghostly companion hovered cautiously on the sidelines, completely silent, for once. He may have been a loud-mouth, but he knew when it was really wise just to shut up. There was the sound of movement on the other side of the door again, and the slit was opened.
'The door is rigged with reaper-proofing. Try and walk through it again, and you'll get deep fried.' the voice from beyond its steel surface said calmly. It continued. 'What business do you have here?'
The reaper hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond. The resolution to this case could pivot entirely on the answer she gave; if she couldn't phase into the building, there was no way to find out who the killer was. The doorman provided a suitable answer.
'Recreation, right? We're the only reaper club in the country, after all. I suppose you're new to the area?' he said with an air of importance. He obviously thought very highly of his place of employment, and was not afraid to show it. Luckily this was exactly what was needed given the situation.
The reaper walked up to the door, smiling, and drawing back her hood. 'What are you doing working here anyway? You should be some sort of mind reader.' she quipped. It was cheesy, but it had the desired effect. She was fairly sure the man behind the door was puffing out his chest with pride at this moment. The sound of bolts moving once again echoed through the alleyway, and the door swung open. The suited figure held it open, beckoning her inside.
'You could say that. I always did fancy myself as some sorta magician... Anyway. The night club is just down the passage and to your left. You can't miss it. Have a good night.' The reaper gave him a quick nod as she stepped inside and past him, and set off down the passage. He did not even blink when the ghost passed him, as he was quite obviously human. What on earth a human was doing performing doorman duties in this bizarre club she had no idea. What was stranger was his ability to see her, but not her companion. However these were things to be pondered later. She had a job to do.
Raising her hood once more, she scanned the blank concrete walls to either side of her. Nothing there at all; no posters, no other doors, nothing. A whole corridor full of nothing. It was perplexing. She reached the large doors at the corridor's end finally. They were grand, large doors, arched at the top, with beautifully engraved patterns encompassing their wooden surfaces. She pushed them open, and walked into the room.
It was large, even as nightclubs went, and had three tiers. She was standing on the highest. Steps led down to the next, where there were a number of round tables, around which numerous reapers, angels, and demons sat, many of which she had never seen before in her life. Down into the third tier, there was a dancing floor, where more of her kind were dancing in time to the music that was blaring from the many speakers lining the walls.
She closed her eyes. Concentrating. Using her focus here was going to a lot more difficult; so many reapers in one place meant it became harder and harder to sense the life energy of mortal things. The familiar ripples began to emanate from her body, and she opened her eyes. There were only two life forces in the room. It was perfect. She sauntered down to the second level, and across to the table where the two men she had followed sat with a smartly dressed demon. He wore an extravagant black tuxedo, and his slicked back, jet black hair was vaguely reminiscent of James Bond, obviously the look he was going for.
She observed money pass over the table and into his hands. It was at this point she interjected.
'That wouldn't be payment for MURDER, would it, friend?' she said coldly, rather much louder than she suspected the demon would like her to have. He snatched up the notes, and pocketed them, then retorted.
'What would you know about what I'm being paid for? Is it any of your business? I think not.' he said viciously, rising from his seat. His clients stayed seated, looking nervously between the demon and the reaper. Odd, she thought, that they could see her too. It must be the building. She'd look into it further later on.
'It is very much my business, demon.' She indicated in the direction of the ghost behind her, who was glaring intensely at his killer. 'You killed this man, and made it look like a suicide. Not only is that a blatant abuse of your abilities, but you ALSO left ME to clean up after you! And THAT makes this personal!' she said, raising her voice louder. The room fell silent around them. No-one talked. Even the music had stopped. The tension was overwhelming. She pressed him.
'Well? What do you have to say?!'
He stayed silent. And ran.
He bolted past her, leaping up the stairs, and out of the doors. She swivelled around, and set off in pursuit. She could see him down the corridor as she launched herself from the club, and watched as he screamed at the doorman to open the door. She had almost caught up when it was thrown open, and the demon ran out into the alley. She pushed past the doorman, and skidded out into the open. Her target was standing in the middle of the alley, waiting for her.
'What is this, huh? You run away just to let me catch you out here? What is up with you?' she said mockingly. The demon looked up.
'Catch me? You misunderstand. I just needed somewhere to stretch my wings.' he replied, letting out a long, low growl.
He clutched his head, and leant forwards. The reaper stepped backwards. This was not good. Demons were tough enough as it was, but in their released state she was in serious danger. There was nothing she could do, however, but keep her distance and watch the transformation.
His fingers lengthened, fusing with his fingernails into horrific claws, and horns began to protrude from his forehead, curling round to the back of his head. From his shoulder blades, the tips of great, skeletal wings emerged, their leathery membranes stained dark red.
Throwing his head back, and spreading his wings, he let out a blood curdling howl, causing the ground below their feet to tremble, and the dustbins and boxes lying by the alley walls to comically bound around, falling over and spilling their contents. The reaper clutched her ears, and closed her eyes. She only recovered when the howl had subsided. She opened her eyes, and took a sharp intake of breath. The demon was standing mere inches from her face. Smoke billowed from his mouth, inset with razor sharp fangs. She collapsed backwards, rolling away from the beast. He laughed manically, and began to advance.
'Stay the fuck...' She began, summoning her sickle, 'Away...' she continued, steadying herself into a prone position, 'FROM ME!' she finished, launching into a colossal leap forward into her opponent, driving her weapon into his side, and latching on, her legs clamped around his knees, causing him to topple over sideways, arms flailing. He roared, and swung at her. A claw caught her face, and she let out a short cry as she was propelled from him and into the far wall.
'You are foolish to fight me, you know...' he said, as he simultaneously tore the sickle from his side and rose from the ground.
One of his hands rose above his head, and a large flame began to appear, a massive globe of fire, spinning over and over, hovering just above his palm. The reaper opened her eyes wide. Demon fire. This was getting serious. She began to run deeper into the alley. The last thing she wanted was for civilians to be caught in the crossfire. Literally. She jumped up onto the nearest wall, kicking off into a series of leaps that brought her to the rooftop of the club building. She ran to the centre of the roof, and called her sickle to her hand from where it had been discarded, waiting.
Sure enough, rising up from the ground, she saw the top of the raging inferno, and following closely behind, the demon himself. As soon as his face came into view, she pulled her arm back, raised her leg, and flung the sickle full force at the demon's head. It impacted with a terrible crack, and crimson blood was launched everywhere. The fireball exploded, taking the demon's arm with it. He screamed, clutching his face with his remaining arm, and collapsing onto the roof. The sickle shimmered out of its resting spot, and returned to the reaper's awaiting hand.
'I want answers, demon. You know as well as I do that you had the advantage in the beginning. But you also know that as you are now, I can just as easily kill you as you me. So make your choice. Tell me why you killed my ghostly friend, or I end you right here.' she said. She knew full well she was still at risk; the large gash in her face was screaming at her, telling her to curl up and cry. She refused it the satisfaction. She needed to keep the upper hand mentally, even if she could quite easily be physically mauled to death by a one armed demon.
His breathing was torn, and his body trembled with each word. 'I work for... the foundation. We... simply take what we deserve...' he managed, sinking down even closer to the ground. The reaper questioned further.
'Foundation? Elaborate. I have little time for this.' she said.
'The... Reap the world... foundation. I am but a pawn... however. This... is all I can tell you...' he continued, before shuddering once more, and fell forward, unconscious. His wings and horns began to break apart, and were carried away as dust in the wind. The reaper casually kicked the body, but there was no response. She was sure he was not dead, but he wasn't in any state where he could do anything about her.
'Case closed' she said to no-one in particular, and gracefully fell from the building.
Chapter Five - Onwards
Chapter Five – Onwards
She slowly opened her eyes, and steadied herself on her elbows. The fall had not hurt her, but she was shaken.
For a demon to release his form so swiftly... something serious must truly be going on behind the scenes, something to do with this “foundation”. However there was little she could do about it herself. She was a lowly reaper, not even one hundred years into her service. If someone out there was causing reapers to relinquish their duties and undertake tasks of personal gain, she'd need help. But first she needed to finish things up here.
She rose from the ground, dusted herself off, and looked around her. The alley was at first glance empty bar herself. On further inspection, however, she spied the dim azure form she was searching for. She walked over to him, and folded her arms.
'So then. Are you satisfied?' the reaper asked.
The ghost frowned. Looking at her, he folded his arms also, and shrugged.
'Well... I'm still dead, and dat ain't a good thing at all. And dem bastards 'ave taken all me money.' He shifted his position, and looked away, thinking hard. 'Is der no way I can stop dem getting' away with dis?' he questioned, looking hopeful.
'Not at this point, no. Later on, you might. You'll have to ask when you get there.' she replied.
'Wot d'you mean later on?' he said, looking confused.
'Those of us who harvest life force are only the beginning. Your essence is transferred through many other... departments, shall we say, before you move on to your next life. Somewhere down the line, I'm sure someone will be able to assist you to some extent.' she said, wrapping her arms around her torso. It was cold in the alley, it was almost midnight now. This case had dragged on so much longer than she'd have anticipated at the outset.
'Roight... Uhm, I guess dat's it, den?' the ghost continued. He looked uneasy; understandable, considering his 'life' now hung in the balance. She smiled.
'You could say that. However, this is not really the end. There is more lying in store for you yet, have no fear.' she said. 'Say... I never did ask. What is your name?' she added. Although it wasn't normally part of a reaper's duty to identify, or identify with the person, she felt that they'd been through enough that day to warrant it.
The ghost looked at her, and grinned. He extended a hand, and announced in an obviously preprepared business tone, 'Dan Brownman, buildin' contractor extrordanaire. Pleasure ta meetcha!' The reaper laughed, shaking his ethereal hand.
'And you.' she replied.
'Wot should I call you den?' he said.
'Just Reaper. That will suffice.' she replied.
Dropping the handshake, the reaper reached round, drawing out her sickle. It shone in the moonlight, the intricate designs tinted the same deep blue as the ghost. He began to back away, but steadying himself, he remained still.
'I'm ready. Do yer worst.' he said with grim determination.
'It won't be painful. Goodbye, Dan Brownman.' She said, sweeping the sickle in an arc through his body. There was a pause, in which she saw the man smile. And then his form exploded into a thousand blue fireflies, Glittering against the moonlight, and illuminating her face. They danced in the cold winter air, in a beautiful spiral, cascading downwards and into the surface of the blade. As the last one completed its journey, the blade shimmered, and went dull once more. It was over.
Stepping out of the alleyway, she set off down the road. The job was not quite over yet.
She travelled for a good twenty minutes, until she was out of the city centre, and in the suburbs. Here the streets were almost completely silent, the roads were mostly clear. Delving into the tightly knit network of side-streets and cul-de-sacs, she began the last leg of the journey.
She knew exactly where she was going. It was the first place she saw in the world, after all. A small patch of green, overgrown, but free of weeds. It was surrounded on either side by rows of houses, and acted to break up the monotonous conformity of the street. In the centre of this patch, there was a stone bird bath. She approached it, reaching her hand out to touch it. Her finger met the surface of the water, and a small ripple cascaded from the point it touched.
There was the sound of chimes, and the world around her began to blur out of focus. A piercing beam of light rose from the water, reaching up into the clouds.
She knelt down before the ornament, and raised her sickle upwards. She began to speak.
'I present unto you, Lady of Death, Soul of all Reapers, this life force most precious. It is my duty unto the world that I do so. Receive them with clear judgement and compassion. Terminus est.' she recited.
As she completed the rite, blue light rose from the surface of her sickle, and began to move into the light stream, where it shone as bright as its surroundings, becoming indistinguishable. The beam of light began to fade, eventually disappearing completely. The world was once again dark, and peaceful.
The reaper rose, and replaced her weapon. She ran her fingers over the ornate stone of the bath, considering how elegant it looked, despite its purpose. Her purpose.
This was the most serene part of her duties. Returning here after collecting the life energy of countless humans calmed her, alleviated her anxiety. It was lonely as a reaper, acting alone; easy to feel alienated, hollow. Without true identity as a person. Being able to come here, to a place of tranquillity, a place that had stayed the same for over one hundred years despite a changing world around it, let her find a permanent fixture, a home, in a way. It was nice.
Ending her self reflection, she prepared to depart once more. She probably had quite a few jobs to catch up on. She was about to turn around, but was interrupted.
A chill shot down her spine. But it wasn't the cold. Her fears intensified as the source of her terror repeated itself. It repeated her name.
'Theris.' it said, it's voice striking at her very soul. It echoed in her mind, tearing through her thoughts, preventing her from phasing, preventing her from retaliating. But worst of all, It knew her name. It was the voice of Retribution.
Chapter Six - Confinement
'Who is it that speaks?' Theris said quietly.
'You know me, for I am Retribution, sister.' the voice replied. 'Please relinquish your scythe.'
Theris bent down, placing her sickle carefully on the ground before her. It flickered out of existence the moment her hand drew away. She twitched. It was never pleasant to have your weapon phased from your care. She rose once more, and spoke.
'What would you have me for, Retribution?' she queried, turning to face the figure, who was large, a good two heads higher than Theris. Its face was shielded by a skull mask, and its body enclosed in a swirling cloak of darkest crimson. The voice echoed its reply.
'You are to be detained, Reaper.' it answered, simply. It stretched out a hand, tanned skin, manicured fingernails. Obviously female, despite an intimidating façade, this Retribution was obviously very proud of its appearance, underneath the robe, anyway. Theris was puzzled.
'Detained for what, sister?' she pressed. Despite herself, she was remaining calm. She knew she had no chance of fighting back, or escape. It was better to simply accept it. But she would still yet know the reason behind her fate.
'The details shall be divulged later, I assure you. Please follow me.' Retribution responded, pushing her hand out once more, beckoning Theris to do the same. She complied, holding out her arm.
There was a flash, and a shining white chain suddenly connected the two at the wrists. Definitely no escaping now. Retribution turned around, facing away from Theris. The surrounding area rumbled, and a towering gate of light began to thrust its way from the ground below. The doors opened, and Retribution stepped within, taking Theris with her.
There came the familiar feeling of travel. Travel to the realm of Death. She had been there many times before, but never under such circumstances. She could feel the fabric of reality tugging at her, demanding she stay in one world or the other. Transition was simply not a favourable option for it. It demanded that beings stayed in one dimension at a time, and could get rather upset when reapers broke its rules by jumping in between.
The pair hit a particularly violent spot of what could be described as inter-dimensional turbulence. Theris was thrown around, still attached to the chain in that half world of nothingness. Black spots began to crowd her vision, as she passed out. She felt, as her consciousness slipped away, that she might never wake up.
The world began to take shape once more before her eyes. As she blinked, squinting in the light, she observed where she now lay, in a room of light stone, or at least, it looked like stone. Directly in front of her there was a large barrier of light, which seemed to beat in time to some unheard song.
She could hear voices. Hazy, unintelligible voices, at first. But as she came to, her senses began to be able to interpret what she was hearing, and she could make out words.
'So she is to be taken there today then, yes?' the first said. This voice was deep, a strong tenor. A second, higher voice, the voice of the Retribution who had guided Theris here, replied.
'That is correct brother. I would hate to be in her position. Nothing she can do to save herself, really. Especially since-' she cut herself off half way, as she turned to see Theris regaining consciousness on the bed upon which she now lay. 'Well then. She awakens. Shall we escort her now?' she asked her partner. He nodded, walking over to the cell's odd pulsing barrier. He touched it, and it faded.
'What... is going on?' Theris managed to ask, as she was lifted from her resting place by a strong hand. The male Retribution laughed.
'What do you think? You've been detained, and now you're to be prosecuted by the council. Come now, you can walk.' he said. Despite what he had said, his voice was jovial, as if he thoroughly enjoyed his work. Theris supposed he probably did.
They proceeded down a long, dark corridor. Great black walls towered up to an unreachable ceiling high above. Strange, shifting things drifted up there in the shadows. Things with glowing eyes, things that seemed to swim in the air. They wailed. A horrible wailing. It echoed through the corridor, and although it was not an abrasive noise particularly, it was chilling.
They walked for some time. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. Time became... hard to measure in the realm of the reapers. The endless reaches seemed to trail on forever before them, and Theris wondered if they even had a destination. Maybe it was torture enough just to keep walking through these corridors, until she went mad. But then, what of her keepers, the Retribution? Surely they too are tortured by such things. So then, she thought, there must be more in store for her. Which was definitely not a comfort. If this was merely the journey, the destination was most likely going to be far, far worse.
'We're here.' the male Retribution said. Theris almost did not hear him, so intent she was on contemplating her fate. When it finally registered, she turned to him, and then to the vast circular room she now stood on the edge of. There was a large walkway going around the sides of the room, for most of it was taken up by a massive pit, the room as endless downwards as the corridors leading up to it were upwards. She observed figures in the shadows on the far side of the drop.
'In you go!' the man said cheerfully, giving Theris a hard shove between the shoulder blades, propelling her into the abyss.
She fell for a moment. But only a moment. Suddenly she was caught by some unseen force. She glanced around her. Her wrists, and ankles, were bound by shackles of light. She was hanging in the centre of the pit, unable to do anything more than struggle against her ties. Even if she could escape them, she noted, all that would result would be a long fall into darkness. Not exactly desirable.
'Reaper of name Theris?' a voice from the shadows questioned. She nodded. This was no time to play games of social tradition. She knew who spoke, moreover. A High Councilman. A prosecutor.
'You are accused of the unrighteous modification of life energy attained from a mortal who's life has passed.' the prosecutor continued, stepping out of the shadows, so that Theris could see his face.
His skin was dark, and wrinkled. Eyes of glimmering emerald peered out from underneath his ornate hood, and his lips, fixed in a grim frown, were ordained by a thick black beard.
'Such an act... Is despicable. For doing so, there is little we can do but recycle your soul and hope for better next time. However, you are brought here before us today in order for us to understand why you did what you did. We want. No, we demand answers, young one. Speak now.' he demanded. There was a thread of anger in his tone, subtle, but commanding none the less.
Theris looked at him in horror. Tampering with life energy? What madness was this? Her mouth moved wordlessly, trying to formulate some sort of response. She finally settled upon a question, rather than an answer.
'W-what do you mean, my lord? Who's life force am I to have changed?' she said, shakily. The prosecutor laughed.
'Am I to believe that you plead innocence? Hah! The last soul that you harvested of course! He arrived to us before his time! And it is clear, from the scythe signature left as residue in his form, that you were the last to deal with him. If it was not you who meddled with his energies, and took him prematurely, who did?'
'The Foundation, Lords! This... organisation, who reap for their own gain! I was going to detail my findings in the report, but I was taken before I was able! If you let me explain to you, I'm sure you could catch the true perpetrators of this crime! Surely you have heard of these rogues? Surely such reapers would not evade you?' Theris cried out, astonished at the short-sightedness of the council.
The councilman glared. 'Do you suggest that the council missed something in their assessment? Insolent child! There were no other signatures upon this soul! It could only have been you! And as for this “foundation”, I believe you will need to conjure up a better story next time. We are not so easily fooled into believing in some fairytale group of renegades who would defy us!' He spat. He turned, his cloak billowing out behind him, as he faded back into the shadows.
'You will remain here until a time we decide we wish to deal with you. May we find you in a more co-operative manner next we meet, Theris.' he ended.
Theris felt the presence of those around her slowly move away. She was alone once more.
Alone in the halls of Death herself.
Chapter Seven – From Above
Several days passed. Theris hung alone in the chamber, alone with only the thoughts in her head to keep her company. Alone with reflection. It was an effective means of torture indeed; Reapers needed no nourishment, they needed no care. She could hang there for years, slowly going mad, the unique properties of the shackles holding her causing fatigue to burn deep within her muscles, screaming out for rest.
The worst of it was that there was no sound. No drips of badly made plumbing, no scurrying rats. These things were considered negatives in your average jail cell. Here they would be a relief from the deathly silence. Occasionally she would shout out in rage, roaring at the top of her voice until her throat burned. And then at least, she could hear the echoes for a few moments, before a return to silence.
She roared, at the top of her voice, the scream of anger tearing into the darkness. She rattled at her chains, throwing her body left and right, trying her best to free herself, despite the inevitability of the task.
But instead of mere echoes, she heard a new voice. A Retribution come to mock her, perhaps? No. That was not their way. They would prefer to sit in silence and bask in the torture of solitude that had befallen her. This voice was fresh, undulled by traditions instilled in most reapers. That was interesting in itself. But then, so were the words that it carried.
'Geez, could you be any louder? Some of us are trying to relax up here.' it said. Theris peered around her, trying to penetrate the darkness. She could find nothing.
'Where are you?' she called out, confusion crossing her brow. How could anyone reach here who wasn't either Retribution or a council member?
'Look up.' was the reply. Theris raised her eyes, searching the great expanse of nothingness above her. And sure enough, on a ledge several metres up the far wall, she could make out a pair of legs. And a body attached to them. Metallic shoe soles caught the ethereal light of the place, glinting. She was perplexed she hadn't noticed before; This place was obviously getting to her. Before she could voice a response, the visitor continued.
'I come here for self reflection. Alone time. What do I find? Some chick screaming her heart out ruining my quiet. It simply will not do.' The figure propelled himself forward, falling rapidly from his perch. A long hood covered his head, and trailed after his form, like some sort of cloth snake. Feet impacted against cold stone, and a ripple of dust and debris was launched into the air. He was obviously unphased by the large drop, or at all bothered by the damage he had caused to the floor.
'I shall simply have to remove you.' he continued, rising from the crater and dusting himself off. He clenched his fist, and extended his index and middle fingers, making the shape of a gun, as a child might in play. He pointed at Theris' right foot, and squinted down his arm. 'Brace yourself.' he said, raising his thumb.
Theris let out a small exclamation as she was forced backwards, swinging wildly on her binds. She looked down, and noticed that her foot was now free of its chains. 'How did you-' she began, but stopped abruptly, observing that the man was now taking aim once more. Two more impacts rocked Theris, and she felt her left hand hit her side. She flexed her fingers, checking that everything was in working order. Luckily it was. She cast her gaze up to her right. Only the chain attached to her wrist was holding her up now. If this one was destroyed she would fall to her demise.
'A-are you going to kill me?' she asked, as calmly as she could, looking the figure straight in the eyes. Eyes of azure blue, the colour of life energy. They seemed to resonate with her very being, tantalising in their nature. She felt as if a magpie, beckoned to by a glistening golden treasure. Her trance was interrupted however, by a long, drawn out laugh. Fascination faded to the back of her mind, as she listened. The man wiped a tear from his eye, or at least pretended to. Such mannerisms were often imitated by Reapers and the like, because they felt it made them seem human.
'No. I'm not going to kill you. That would be rude; we've only just met.' He stepped forward, reaching the edge of the precipice. He raised his “gun” once more. 'I just ask for a little faith.' he added quietly, as Theris closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.
She felt herself knocked backwards, spinning erratically in the air, and for a moment, falling. But then... Warmth against her form. Strong arms gripping her tightly, and she felt a jolt pass through her as the man landed on the other side of the pit, holding her still. She opened an eye, peering up at him. A grinning face, his skin pale, but not to the same degree as many reapers. A long strand of black hair hanging down to the side, bound by cloth where it met his head, resulting in a curious forward facing ponytail protruding from his right temple.
'You may let me go now. Thank you.' she said quietly. He nodded, and released his grip, allowing her to shakily raise herself to her feet. She took a deep breath, composing herself, and let out a slow sigh. 'What now then? Surely we'll just be captured, and brought back here again if we try to escape through the passages.' she continued, looking around her.
'If we used the passages we'd get caught, sure. But we're not using the passages.' He replied, waving a hand across the wall adjacent to him. The stonework shimmered, and a spiral of darkness appeared, just tall enough for a grown man to step through, and equally wide. A low hum rung out eerily from its surface. Waving for Theris to follow, he stepped into the shadow, fading away into the wall until nothing of him was left.
Theris simply studied the wall for a time, trying to work out the nature of the gateway that now covered it. She stepped up to it, and hesitantly pressed her fingers to it, and pulled them back immediately, as they met no resistance and sunk straight through. Working up her courage, she once again pressed her hand into the darkness, and this time she felt something catch her hand. She was about to resist, when she made out the touch of fingers, a hand, not a monster. Relenting, she passed through the gateway entirely, finding herself in an apparently endless sea of shadow.
Holding her hand was her new acquaintance, leading her along an unseen path. She said nothing, studying the back of his head, the side of her mouth twitched upward in amusement at the trailing hood he wore. It was rather comical, and she suspected somewhat impractical too. They kept walking for some time, and the man seemed certain of his destination, for he didn't stop even for a moment, walking doggedly forward.
The rhythm of their steps became uniform, and Theris drifted into something that could be described as a daydream. Reapers did not dream as humans did, per say, but left to their own devices they could allow their minds to shift into a complacent, dream-like state, allowing them at least a short period of rest. Because of this, she did not notice the time passing until she felt a bump against her body as she walked into the back of her leader. She looked up, and noticed that they had stopped. She looked around, but could see nothing different about this place compared to where they had been before.
The man in front of her waved his hand before him, and Theris blinked, unnecessarily, in the light that burst through the hole that he had created. They stepped through it, and she gasped, as she recognised her place of silent introspection; the Garden of End. Then she gasped once more, as she observed the fifteen or so reapers that stood waiting for them.