Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6899704.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major_Character
      Death
  Category:
      F/F, F/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Undertaker_(Kuroshitsuji)/Original_Character(s), Original_Female
      Character/Original_Female_Character, Original_Female_Character/Original
      Male_Character
  Character:
      Undertaker_(Kuroshitsuji), Grell_Sutcliff, William_T._Spears, Ronald
      Knox, Eric_Slingby, Alan_Humphries_(Kuroshitsuji), Ciel_Phantomhive,
      Sebastian_Michaelis, Original_Female_Character(s), Original_Male
      Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Eugenics, Empath, Yurei, Past_Sexual_Abuse, Rape, Suicide, Memory_Loss,
      Angst_and_Hurt/Comfort, Dreams_vs._Reality, Yuri, Erotica, Mind_Control,
      Fictional_Religion_&_Theology, Clones, Intrigue, Trichophilia, Blood_and
      Gore, Dismemberment, Destruction, Devotion, Sexual_Tension, Mentions_of
      Necrophilia, Disembowelment, Romance, Reapers, Alternate_Universe_-_Dark,
      I_REGRET_NOTHING, Light_Masochism, Kidnapping, Premonition_of_Own_Death,
      Flashbacks, Experimental_Drugs, Psychokenesis, vengeance, Sabotage, Semi-
      Public_Sex, envy_-_Freeform
  Series:
      Part 1 of Unnecessary_Shadows
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-19 Completed: 2016-10-20 Chapters: 29/29 Words: 84542
****** Unnecessary Shadows ******
by Deadly_Night_Sh1ft_(CrookedMath)
Summary
     Her mind is a weapon, the ultimate weapon. After years of enduring
     torture at the hands of those who created her, she escapes only to
     find herself taking refuge in a mortuary where she meets a silver
     haired man that both scares and captivates her. As the days go by,
     the secrets of her past are slowly returning to her defective memory,
     and yet the mortician is ever present in her life. But when he finds
     out the truth of what she truly is beneath the years of torture, will
     he still be there?
     *In this story, Yurei/Ikiryo are loosely based on the Japanese myths
     of which they represent*
     ***DISCLAIMER*** I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters. That
     honor goes to Yana Toboso.
     Yay! Updated summary!
Notes
     My OC's inner thoughts will be framed by ~
     Suicide via mind control contained herein. You have been warned.
***** Fear *****
The petite black eyed woman stared harshly at her assailant.
~And every time your father touched you in your forbidden place, you hated it.~
The knife wielding man stopped his advances on the cornered woman in the
darkened alley. Fear, doubt, and shame began to boil to the surface. Her
blackened eyes seemingly bore into his soul as she continued.
~But as you got older his visits to your forbidden place were less frequent.
You found yourself wanting-no, needing-your father's touch. He became a
narcotic to you, but when a new woman-~
The male's face contorted into an anguished grimace. "Stop it! Stop! Stop!
Stop!" He cried out, tearing at his hair. "Shut the fuck up! You don't know
anything!"
The whites of the petite's eyes went black. ~Your father's new wife detracted
most of his attention from you~ she continued from deep within his
subconscious. ~That's why you do what you do. That's why you violate and
destroy women.~
The violator felt his knife move to his neck on its own. He stared at the
petite woman with blackened orbs, an ashamed expression with glazed eyes of
unshed tears etched onto his ruddy face. The woman remained still, hands by her
sides, and completely expressionless. The filthy man's eyes seemed to plead for
mercy as he pressed his knife deeper into his neck. A bead of blood was visible
on his skin. Satisfied, the petite continued, ~Why not destroy yourself? You're
so much like 'daddy'.~ Her voice seemed to sneer at him from inside his
subconscious. ~He ended his affection with an opposite. Do the same, 'daddy's
boy', and destroy yourself. You've already started, so finish it already. Think
about it, you die a free man, but you'll end up in Hell. Don't worry, I heard
they have air conditioning. So, hurry it along, finish what you started, you
piece of shit!~
Despite the woman's expressionless features there was something about those
blackened eyes that invoked deep feelings of shame and self loathing about his
past. On top of that, he felt tremendous guilt for the brutal rapes and murders
that he had committed, whereas before those feelings were conspicuously absent.
Wracked by this sudden influx of emotion and this seemingly demonic girl
staring him down, sifting through his mind and unlocking the secret places; the
compulsion to escape was overwhelming. In fact, it was necessary. If he didn't
escape now, how else could he live with all that had just flooded in on him
like a tsunami?
"A-are you some kind of demon?" the assailant fearfully demanded. Tears slipped
from his eyes as he slowly backed away from the black clad woman into the wall.
~No, I'm just a friend.~ Her voice seemed pleased with itself.
The male felt his hand move as if someone else was controlling it, but deep
down he knew it was his own doing. More tears were silently flowing as he
applied significantly greater pressure to the knife, dragging it across his
neck, effectively severing his jugular, followed by his windpipe and carotid
artery in one quick deep slice. The last thing he saw before collapsing to the
ground in the dirty, darkened back alley of a London road near the mortuary was
a pale flash in the woman's eyes as they turned to a mismatched blue and green
from the black he'd been accustomed to all evening. He noticed a subtle glow in
the shocked female's eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but forgot he
severed his windpipe when he cut his throat. The unsatisfied curiosity about
the lady in black was the last thing on the dying rapist's mind as he faded
from this mortal coil.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The petite woman remained frozen in place with a look of horror painted on her
delicate features. She was too terrified to scream.
~Not again. Not again. Not again. But what was I supposed to do?~
As the pool of blood spread and began touching the toe of her worn out black
heels, she ran blindly from the alleyway to the first place she saw. Instinct
always took over in times like these.
The female looked around and realized that her refuge was a funeral parlor. And
a scary looking one at that. It was very dimly lit with coffins of various
sizes strewn about the floor and shelves with jars containing various items
(some of which appeared to house human organs) striped the walls in random
places. Many tomes of books, mostly on anatomy, lined shelves on the wall
behind a coffin serving as a desk. She was frightened of this place, but even
more so of leaving it. Worse yet, night had already fallen, so she was
virtually trapped here. There was no sign of the person who ran the place, so
she cautiously walked around the room with the intention of finding a place to
hide until morning. She desperately needed to calm down in case the shop owner
showed up. She didn't want to be an unnecessary burden on anyone.
~Why can't I be left in peace?~
Just as she was settled in between two coffins and softly crying to herself, a
creaking noise was heard from somewhere across the room followed by the sound
of swishing.
~Is it fabric? A dress, maybe? Pants don't sound like that.~
Assuming the sounds belonged to a female, the petite remained in her hiding
place and resumed her guilty release until a distinctly male voice made her
sobbing cease in an instant, although her tears still rained from her eyes in a
silent downpour of guilt, sadness, and confusion.
"What do we have here? Hehehe."
The lavender haired female shrunk into herself further as the tall, grinning
man in black continued his approach. She was still far too petrified and
confused to respond to the male who was now standing directly in front of her,
blocking any chance she had at escaping. The female hugged her knees closer to
her body and lowered her head, vaguely aware of her tears dotting the dusty
floor. Thick tendrils of silver languidly entered her peripheral vision. She
realized the black clad man was sitting on his haunches in order to be level
with her, but despite his attempt, he still towered over her.
~Please don't touch me. I don't want to know what you're thinking. Oh Goddess,
please don't touch me!~
Long, slender fingers tipped with ebony talons lightly grazed over her cheek
and came to a stop under her chin, sending shivers down her spine. The woman's
head was gently being tilted upward to look her curious companion in the...
bangs? He no doubt had eyes hidden behind the shaggy curtain of silver covering
half of his pale face. In the dimly lit room the odd top hat the silver haired
male wore cast unnecessary shadows over his face. The petite woman tried to
turn her head away since she could no longer stand the mixed feelings running
amok inside of her.
~Oh Goddess, he's beautiful, but frightening. He's so lone-... it's gone. I
can't read him anymore. Can't he stop fucking staring at me?~
The female realized her mismatched eyes were glowing slightly brighter than
usual. It was a different kind of bright, something she wasn't accustomed to,
but it happened after the mortician touched her face with the same care and
delicacy one would use when handling a porcelain doll. She blushed slightly at
the thought, but still couldn't help but be scared witless just the same. A
pale, grinning face was within inches of hers. The male very gently cupped her
face in his hands so he could get a better look at her, and when he did, his
ever present grin disappeared.
~Can this day get any worse?~
"My, my, what lovely eyes," the man in the long tailed top hat mused. He was
kneeling in front of her now to have an even closer look at her tear stained
face. The unnecessary shadows became less disturbing when he cocked his head to
the side allowing the small amount of light in the room to illuminate his
ghostly features. "What is your name, m'dear?"
The petite female felt his hands smoothly remove themselves from her face. The
faint feeling of his long nails against her skin dusted her cheeks with a touch
of pink and sent chills down her spine. "January," she replied in a meek
whisper. "My name is January." She finally mustered the courage to look
directly at the silver haired male. The lavender haired female marveled at what
beauty of his that was unobscured: pale skin, defined, angular jaw, slightly
upturned mouth, a scar around his neck and one bisecting his face diagonally
from his right jaw over the bridge of his nose to most likely over his left
eye. She wished she could see his eyes, but she made no demand of him.
Nevertheless, she did reach up below his bangs without exposing his eyes,
seeking out the fine line of marred flesh underneath. Once her small fingers
found their target, she delicately traced the scar's path as her eyes glowed
curiously. "You're lovely, too. What am I supposed to call you?" She giggled
nervously and continued to slowly and delicately trace the line of marred flesh
across the mortician's face.
The mortician closed his eyes behind the curtain of silver and felt his self
control begin to make its egress as her soft fingertips slowly moved closer to
his jaw. He was not about to protest the lavender haired woman's gentle touch.
It had been far too long since he'd been shown that kind of affection by
anyone, male or female. Sensing his inner tension, the petite female quickly
withdrew her fingers from his scarred face while mumbling an apology of some
sort. The lavender haired lady was amusing in his opinion, but there was
something more to her than that, something enigmatic. There was also an aura of
fear surrounding her, though she directed it at him, it ran even deeper. He
pushed his reverie to the back of his mind for the time being. "Undertaker,"
the mortician replied to the woman in the long, black dress. "I must say that
you're the first person I've seen in my humble little shop to desire a fitting
between two coffins rather than inside of only one. Ehehehehe." The man rose to
his feet and held out his hand offering to assist the petite, but she remained
frozen in place. "Suit yourself." He shrugged. "I'll go make us some tea."
The mortician turned around and walked away leaving the woman hypnotized by the
thigh length silver hair swaying back and forth over his long, flowing black
robes. Feeling as though her mind were in a daze, she finally got up and
followed the sound of his heavy boots clunking on the hardwood floor in tandem
with the mourning lockets lightly clinking against one another from a chain
dangling over one side of his narrow hips. She itched to feel the gray sash
slung diagonally over his body, secured by a knot opposite the locket chain.
Did the man of unnecessary shadows prefer gossamer softness? Is that why he was
a mortician dressed as a funeral mute? Or did he prefer both? He was strange
and beautiful.
~As if I'm one to talk. I did it again. I became the voice again. An
involuntary death knell. But they bring it on themselves. Still it's no
reason...~
She began to cry again. Damn these emotions. Damn them! She wished she had
never existed, then she never would have been part of the eugenics program-an
experiment-against her will. She wished she could live in peace, instead her
mind was a weapon, and she was cursed with her own internal warfare. The man
with silver hair
~Beautiful, long, silver hair.~
was dangerous in his own way, yet kind and intended her no harm. Trusting her
senses, she kept following him, but stopped just short of what she assumed was
the kitchen area. This was not her home, therefore, she would not intrude any
more than she had already. Bearing that in mind, the small woman awkwardly
perched herself atop a coffin and waited patiently for her host to bring out
the refreshments.
***** Wormwood *****
Chapter Notes
     January's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
The mortician brought out a tray with two beakers of tea and an urn of what
appeared to be dog biscuits, and placed the tray on the coffin across from the
sullen woman. She absently stared at her host's long fingers as they wrapped
themselves around a beaker of tea. To her, the way each finger individually
grasped the glass in languid succession was quite sensual.
~I wonder what it would feel like to be caressed by those wonderful nails?
Dammit! Stop thinking this way! He'll hurt you just like everyone else does!~
A single black fingernail poked her cheek and brought her back from the armory
of her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I was... lost in thought."
"It seems my lady January is quite lost indeed." The man of unnecessary shadows
giggled into his overly long sleeve as he handed the lady her beaker of tea.
With a total disregard for personal space, the man took what he deemed his
rightful place beside the timid female with the glowing eyes. Both of them
sipped tea from their respective beakers in silence for an awkward few minutes.
A single small braid peeked out from beneath the mass of silver hair when her
host leaned forward to retrieve the urn of dog treats. "Biscuit?" He thrust the
urn uncomfortably close to her face, now having her attention focused on him.
"Undertaker, are these do-" A familiar smell invaded her senses as her eyes
took on a ravenous glow at a scent only she could smell. "Wormwood."
"Hehehe! You're a sharp one, yes?" the mortician quipped, popping a biscuit
into his mouth and another into hers.
The lavender haired woman's eyes glowed brighter as she slowly chewed the bone
shaped treat, savoring the cinnamon and sugar flavor, and most of all the
wormwood extract that it was laced with. The unnecessary shadows disappeared
from her host's face as he ate more of his biscuits in curious amusement.
~Wormwood.~
The silver haired man was completely caught off guard by the small woman when
she tore the urn from his grasp and devoured the remainder of the biscuits. He
watched in amused fascination as this once frightened, meek woman transformed
into a ravenous beast, an alluring specimen with a savage glow in her eyes. A
tongue wrapping itself expertly around each of his fingers in search of tiny
crumbs left behind by the wormwood laced biscuits brought his attention to his
guest's actions. At first he was tempted to push her away, lest he lose all
self control, but he was too fascinated by her to protest.
*My, she is a peculiar one. Heehee.*
He sat frozen in her motion observing the way the lavender girl twisted her
tongue around each of his long fingers. A shudder of delight traveled
throughout the mortician's body when his companion stroked her fingers over
his, then repeated the action with his other hand.
"Wormwood," she growled softly with an eerie, savage glow in her eyes.
Hypnotized by the petite's glowing eyes, the silver haired male was vaguely
aware that his hat had somehow been knocked to the floor as he had been far too
focused on the mismatched primal glow of beautiful ferocity. Delicate hands
ever so gently cupped his face as the female leaned forward, her face inches
from his, glowing blue and green eyes scanning his face before locking on to
his lips. The female crawled onto the mortician's lap without breaking her gaze
or letting go of his face. The intensity of her glowing eyes increased as she
got closer to her prize. The madman could no longer control himself once he
felt her tongue lightly trace his lips seeking the remnants of wormwood laced
biscuit crumbs. The scarred man wrapped one arm around the pale woman's waist
and brought the other up her back, dragging his nails along the way until he
let his slender fingers find a home in her long, lavender locks. She wrapped
her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his silver tresses, deepening
their kiss.
~What am I doing?~
The female felt soft nibbles alternating with sweet kisses on her neck.
Something between a sigh and a purr escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and
knotted her small fingers further into the mortician's hair.
~He's so beautiful. Oh Goddess! What the hell am I doing?~
"Stop," the female demanded quietly. "I'm sorry. That was highly inappropriate
of me. It's just that..." She looked at the mortician with an embarrassed flush
as she scrambled to move away from him.
He simply raised an eyebrow beneath the curtain of silver over his face as a
Cheshire grin slowly appeared. "Just that what, m'dear?"
"Wormwood." Blue and green eyes flashed, then settled down again.
The silver haired man fell into a raging fit of laughter. "My, my, I had no
idea my biscuits would have that kind of effect on a little lady. Kehehehe." He
picked his hat up from the floor and placed it back on his head.
"It's like a narcotic to my kind," January whispered more to herself than to
anyone else. A few tears sprang forth from her mismatched eyes at an
involuntary flash of memory from a part of her past she wished she could
forget. "It's supposed to..." She trailed off.
"Don't cry now, love. There's no reason to be so upset," the man of unnecessary
shadows cooed. "I don't like to see pretty young ladies cry. It's unbecoming."
"I'm nowhere near as young as I look, Undertaker," the woman in black grumbled
under her breath.
The mortician pulled her into a comforting embrace. "That doesn't matter. I
still don't like to see pretty ladies cry."
Something about him was soothing to the petite woman in black. It was like
being in the arms of Death himself. Perhaps she was, perhaps she wasn't. Her
mind was too clouded at the moment to think clearly to try to read him again.
She cautiously wrapped her arms around the mortician's trim waist and silently
released some of her sadness while he stroked her lavender hair. She allowed
him to continue comforting her, and was surprised and glad that he didn't take
advantage of her, though he could have easily done so in her vulnerable state.
~He's been nothing but sweet. Creepy, but sweet, nonetheless. And somehow,
under the creepiness, he's so beautiful, but there's something deeper that I
can't quite get to.~
The experimental female buried her face deeper into the mortician's robes as
more sobs broke through the floodgates of her eyes.
"I'm...I'm...so...sorry...to have...caused...you...so much...trouble," she said
through broken sobs.
Undertaker shushed her and hugged her tighter. "There, love, you're no trouble
to me." He held her close against his chest and rest his head atop hers.
"You're no trouble to me at all, my love, no trouble to me at all." He gingerly
placed a kiss on her forehead and continued to hold her close, and he would do
so until time itself ended. But the sound of bells over the front door jingled,
announcing the arrival of a new guest. "Excuse me, my lady, I believe I have a
guest I must attend to. I'll return shortly. Hehehe." The lady in black blushed
as the mortician rose to his feet and kissed the back of her hand before
walking away, silver hair swaying fluidly over long, black flowing robes as he
went.
***** Prototypical *****
Chapter Notes
     January's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     "Lovely" is Undertaker's pet name for my OC, so for purposes of this
     story, it will be treated as a proper noun where appropriate
The petite lady in black peeked her head around the corner when she was sure
the other people had vacated the premises. She cautiously shuffled into the
main area of the shop carrying her beaker of tea in both hands, eyes wide in
fear. "Undertaker, why were those people here?"
The mortician turned around to face his living guest with his trademark grin on
his face, her flinch going unnoticed as he barely avoided hitting her in the
face with his hair as it whipped around him. "Why, January, dear, they brought
me a new guest to look after. Hehehehe." His Cheshire grin grew wider. "Would
you like to accompany me?" A fit of mad giggles failed to be restrained as he
easily lifted the makeshift coffin and carried it to the back of the shop.
~He's too strong for someone that thin. There's no way he's human. Could that
be why he hides his eyes? Is that why it's so hard to read him?~
Nodding, the experiment silently followed the tall man in black. She waited
anxiously as he pried the lid off the makeshift coffin while he hummed an
obscure tune to himself. "Hehe, well what do we have here?" he asked more to
himself than anyone else as he tossed the lid aside.
The female's curiosity was piqued when she got a glimpse of an eerie yellow
green glow peeking between strands of silver as he looked inside the coffin.
Mustering up the courage to satisfy her urge, she peeked over the side of the
coffin to see what had the silver haired man so fascinated. Her blood ran cold
upon viewing the corpse. It was one of hers. It was the man whom she had
encountered in the filthy back alley earlier that evening prior to making her
egress to her current refuge. Flashes of images bombarded her defective memory.
A scraggly man with bloodshot eyes and a crazed snarl pinning her against a
wall... A glint of silver...the knife blade... The crazed man appearing shocked
and frightened... Tears now rolled down his remorseful face...
"Are you some kind of demon?"
Blood spurts from his throat as he cuts it from ear to ear and collapses with a
look of pure terror gracing his haggard features...
~But why? Why the sudden shift from remorse to terror?~
The experiment was defective. Pieces were missing, but what was there was
frightening. Moreover, how was she supposed to explain herself to Undertaker?
Explanations would have to wait, however, as the lady in black collapsed to the
floor sending an instrument tray flipping through the air and one scalpel
lodging itself into her right side, narrowly missing her lung, while another
cut a deep gash in her leg, just above the knee.
At the sound of the commotion, the mortician spun around and found his living
guest passed out and quite injured on the floor behind him. He could make out
pools of blood forming beneath the petite girl with his blurry vision.
*What a strange day.*
"That wasn't very nice of you. Making pretty girls faint and hurting them isn't
permissible here, chap," Undertaker admonished his guest with a frown. He made
sure to cover the body and put it away as quickly as possible, thinking the
condition of the corpse is what gave the young lady such a fright. After
sanitizing his hands, he scooped the bleeding girl up and exited the morgue.
"What is it that scared you, m'dear?" he whispered to the girl as he stroked
her bloodstained lavender hair.
The mortician carefully shifted the petite figure in his arms as he opened the
bedroom door, then rushed into the bathroom to start work on cleaning and
bandaging her wounds. As far as he was concerned, the gash on her leg was easy
to work on as it preserved the broken girl's modesty. The one in her side,
however, proved to be a moral dilemma since he'd already taken a liking to her.
*There was this feral animal that came out when she ate my cookies, but then
she seems so scared and fragile at the same time. She's a starving wild animal
too afraid to eat.*
"Get a hold of yourself, old man. You're trying to save her life," he scolded
himself.
Hesitantly, he unbuttoned the petite's dress, then with a hushed apology pulled
out the scalpel lodged in her side, and made quick work of sewing the wound
back together. He realized he had nothing for her to sleep in, so he shed his
cloak and wrapped it around her semi naked body mindful of her freshly stitched
injuries. The man in black decided it would be more appropriate to wait until
the young lady was fully conscious before allowing her to bathe. He knew he had
some explaining to do once she discovered her nearly naked state concealed only
by his cloak upon her arrival back into the waking world. He carried her into
the bedroom and gently placed her small body on the rarely used bed and tucked
her in. He silently mused at the extreme reaction she had at seeing the
cadaver, and the resulting freak accident that ensued. Never in all his years
as an undertaker had he seen a series of events quite like today's.
*Such a strange day, indeed.*
"Nnggh...why are your shadows so unnecessary?" the female mumbled incoherently
from below him.
The mortician cocked his head to the side with a curious look in his eyes
lurking below his silver bangs. "What was that you said, love?" An equally
curious grin crept over his face. No response followed his inquiry. He cocked
his head the opposite direction like a curious puppy and asked again. He
frowned a bit when he still received silence as an answer yet his hidden eyes
retained their curious glint.
*What does she mean by unnecessary shadows?*
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The first month woke up groggy the following afternoon in a strange room in a
strange bed with strange clothes loosely draped about her small frame. Pain
jolted up and down the right side of her body and her left hand was caught in
something. What it was, she knew not. She sat up as best as she could despite
the pain in her side to investigate her surroundings. The afternoon sun peeked
through gaps in black curtains lighting the room up well enough to see clearly.
It was clean and sparsely furnished, though the furnishings were rather nice.
She looked down and noticed that her covers were...pink.
~How adorable, he likes pink.~
Then, she finally noticed what was clamped to her left hand: the owner of the
pink blanket. His unnecessary shadows were gone, his bangs were out of his
eyes, and his entire face was visible. As she surmised, the scar on his face
did go all the way up to his hairline. It was interesting to her how it split
his eyelid without destroying the rapidly moving eye beneath it. His long,
thick eyelashes moved like mercury in his state of REM sleep. The experiment
had never seen anything like it. She could watch every beautiful motion his
eyes made in his sleep until the end of days, especially the left eye with its
lovely scarred surface.
~He must have been born with silver hair. Every highlight and shade is too
perfect to be signs of aging. He's so beautiful.~
The petite girl dared herself to touch the tips of his eyelashes. As she did
so, his glowing green eyes flashed open staring straight at the her. They were
so beautiful, she felt her secret places begin to unlock. He had the eyes of a
hunter, an animal seeking prey, intimidating and hypnotic. Dual irises were a
dead giveaway that her host was a reaper, but she didn't mind as she sensed no
ill will in him so far. But those eyes held her frozen in her place with a
flurry of emotions coursing through her mind. "I-I'm s-sorry," the lavender
haired lady stammered. "I was enjoying watching you sleep. The movements of
your eyes were so fascinating. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." The lady
hung her head in a humbled gesture, but discretely peeked through a lavender
curtain to see his beautiful eyes.
The newly revealed pale reaper only gazed upon the nervous lavender lady. After
a few moments he lifted her head up with his black talons to look her in her
mismatched eyes without bothering to hide his again. Equal looks of both
curiosity and captivation passed between the glowing orbs of the mortician and
the experiment. Mismatched eyes of one, double irises of the other. The male
was the first to break the stillness surrounding them. "No harm done, Lovely,"
he said in a calming, almost seductive voice. "Though, I've not heard of anyone
being taken by how my eyes look when they're closed. You're quite a peculiar
one, milady."
Unsure of how to respond to Undertaker's observation, January merely pointed
out the obvious. "You're a reaper, aren't you?" She touched his forehead and
closed her eyes, "but not just any, the first of your kind. The prototype. Ex
nihilo." Opening her eyes, she removed her hand and continued, "the powers that
be fear your immense power, therefore, you are the only reaper who was created,
all others are recycled suicides." The female narrowed her eyes at her
companion. "I am correct."
The mortician stared at the girl in astonishment. "You are correct," he agreed.
A knowing grin formed on his face. "Aren't Empaths supposed to stay out of
another's subconscious unless otherwise permitted, hm?"
The injured petite blushed in embarrassment. "It was necessary. You're so
difficult to read. I was just trying to make sure you weren't going to harm me,
but as I'm a very curious person, I dug a little deeper. I apologize for
invading your privacy, Undertaker."
His grin widened. "Do I mean you any harm, milady?"
"No," she replied, bowing her head apologetically. She remained silent with
shame for what she had done to him, for all the atrocities done unto her
throughout her lifetime, and the abomination she was engineered to be. She
rolled over onto her 'good' side in a fetal position, curling in on herself as
much as the physical pain would allow, and silently let the shame pour out of
her grass and sky eyes behind the lavender curtain. More than anything she
wanted an end to this mortal coil. She wanted to be one of Undertaker's
beautiful guests. The kind that sleep and never wake up.
"Have you ever heard of eugenics?" the experimental beauty asked in whispered
tears.
"I have a bit of knowledge in it," the mortician replied.
"I am an experiment. Empaths aren't all sweet, you know. I was fused together
with a Yurei, an Ikiryo, to be specific. The eugenicists merged me with the
oldest surviving Ikiryo, whom my people-Rarities-refer to as the Formless One.
Like you, I am a prototype and the only one of my kind made by the eugenics
program. The others were only spliced with the Will of other Ikiryo, but all
were later destroyed. There was no war, so we weren't needed anymore." The
female turned her head to face the silver haired man with bloodshot, pleading
eyes. "Please, no more. I can't handle the burden anymore, Undertaker.
Please...I'm so tired..."
The reaper's heart shattered at the experiment's tale. On top of that, he
couldn't bear to see the lovely treasure before him weeping over something she
can't control, especially something done to her against her will. A sudden
overwhelming urge to protect the small woman became instinct to him. Mindful of
her injuries, the silver reaper gently embraced the guilt ridden woman in his
arms. He tucked her back under his fluffy pink covers and gently caressed her
cheek. "I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered, placing a ghost of a kiss
on the corner of her mouth.
***** Acquainted *****
Chapter Notes
     January's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Dirty lavender hair swished in front of her face as she slowly shuffled to the
mortician on half healed bloodied legs. She tugged his robes as hard as her
strength deprived body could. Clearly, it wasn't enough to garner his attention
for it was the equivalent of a feather attempting to move a mountain. Instead,
she resorted to having to speak to her fellow prototype, knowing that her
request was going to sound more like a childish demand. "Undertaker?" she began
shyly, flushing a furious red. "I'm hungry."
~I sound like such a pitiful child!~
The reaper turned mortician simply turned and laughed at the petite still
wrapped in his robe. "It's nice of you to join the world of the living, milady.
Ehehe. First, we need to get you cleaned up," he said, pointing out her
bloodstained hair.
She scowled at the tall man in black. "Why didn't you do it earlier?" she
snapped.
Undertaker's expression grew serious and softened at the same time. "I could
have, yes, but I didn't want a lovely lady such as yourself to assume that I
had taken advantage of her. Now, what kind of host would that make me? Hehehe."
The eerie, trademark grin returned. "Let's have a look at those wounds and get
them cleaned up. Afterwards, I'll leave you to your privacy if you wish."
The lavender lady felt humbled by her host's considerate behavior and kindness.
She had not been treated that way by males since the death of her guardian.
"Thank you, Undertaker, for your kindness," she said softly.
"Anything for a lovely lady," he replied with an ever widening grin.
                                    xxxxxx
"It still hurts badly when I move," the female complained. "My leg is a little
sore, but my side still feels terribly painful."
The mortician listened intently to the woman's complaints before rushing off to
get the medical supplies he would need to patch her up. A few minutes later, he
bounded back to the girl with the required materials. "We'll check your leg
first." He carefully removed the bloodied bandage and cleaned the area. The
girl giggled when some of the mortician's silver hair snuck over his shoulder
and tickled her calf.
~Why does he have to get so close to my leg?~
An ebony nail gently poked around the stitched laceration to test her pain
tolerance and the quality of his work.
*It's already closed. How strange.*
Concern crossed the reaper's face as he turned his head to look at his patient.
Part of his bangs drifted to one side revealing eyes that housed no ulterior
motives. Rather there was something deeper lurking in his expressive eyes than
mere concern for the woman's comfort and well being.
~But what?~
She giggled again as more of his silver hair snuck over his shoulder to have a
chance at her pale, bare calf. "Your hair is soft," she whispered.
"I see that you're ticklish, m'dear. Hehehe," Undertaker replied with a
devilish grin. The lavender lady blushed. "You look so cute when you blush."
"Can the stitches come out now?"
Undertaker's smile dropped slightly. "These can," he stated dryly, tapping a
nail on her leg. "You'll need to keep it bandaged for a few days. You heal
quite fast, milady, even faster than most reapers. Very impressive."
"Eugenics," she shrugged, resigned to her lot in life.
The mortician chuckled and removed the stitches from January's leg and cleaned
it once more for good measure. "I'm going to have to ask you to compromise your
modesty so that I can have a good look at your side. I'm afraid I was rather
hasty when closing your wound. As I said, I didn't want to appear as though I
had taken advantage of you while you were unconscious. Hehehe."
The small woman complied by slipping her small arm out of the mortician's
ridiculously long sleeve of the cloak she'd been wrapped up in. Fear and doubt
gnawed at her thoughts; that despite the kindness he's shown her since she's
been here, he could turn on her at any second given her vulnerable position.
She glared at his reflection in the mirror without realizing he'd been speaking
to her.
"January," the reaper said gently, not wanting to frighten the lady and lose
her trust. "I need you to lift your arm so I can tend to your wound." He
lightly poked the arm blocking access to her injury. "January!" Her name was
spoken with more force. She snapped out of her suspicious thoughts and whipped
her head around in the direction of the male's voice commanding her to move her
arm. The experiment's harsh glare disappeared when she saw a unique brand of
tenderness looking back at her. Long, spindly fingers reassuringly touched her
face. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes,
Lovely," the reaper said softly. He tilted his head, allowing his bangs to
fall, leaving one breathtaking glowing green eye framed by soft silver lashes
beneath a high, thin silver arch fully exposed.
~He's too beautiful when he does that.~
"I need you to move your arm so I can fix your injury, Lovely," he repeated.
"Oh, yes, sorry," the lavender haired woman muttered. She slowly moved her arm
as instructed, wincing in pain when she found a halfway decent position to set
it down.
Right away the mortician got to work removing bloody wraps and haphazardly sewn
stitches. He hummed an obscure song that only he knew as he cleaned the still
open puncture wound while checking for signs of infection. Finding none, he
smiled brightly to his companion for a few seconds, then resumed his work of
medicating and properly stitching the open wound in her side. "Now that your
wounds have been properly tended to, you can get cleaned up. Do you think you
can do it on your own?"
"I don't know. It still hurts a lot when I raise my arms too high," the
flustered petite replied.
Undertaker chuckled and covered her back up with his robes. "Then, let me know
if you want my help. Hehehe." He was already halfway out of the attached
bedroom when he heard the petite call out to him.
"Um, Undertaker...I might need you to help me out a little, after all. I trust
you not to do anything that will hurt me."
Not expecting the girl to accept his offer, the silver haired man stopped in
his tracks, the ever present grin gone from his face, and returned to the
waiting female. "Are you quite sure about that?" The words were cold and sharp
like a razor blade.
"You don't have to if it's too much trouble. I've been too burdensome
already..." she trailed off. Her mismatched eyes shone with unshed tears of
pain and longing...
~For...him? For him?...Oh Goddess! For Undertaker?~
The mortician's expression softened. "If my Lovely wishes, then that is what I
shall do." A genuine smile graced his lips instead of the Cheshire grins she'd
grown used to and she swore she could feel a tumbler in the lock of her secret
place turn when their eyes met.
                                    xxxxxx
The prototype shrugged off the blackness shrouding her petite frame, allowing
soft lavender locks stained with the blood of the guilty to hang loosely about
her back. Deft, clawed fingers pulled her hair into a messy bun so as not to
get into the way of her bathing. The hair is always best saved for last for
those with long locks. While waiting for the tub to fill, the mortician admired
his charge's tattoo. A sense of familiarity overtook him and quickly vanished
as he beheld the back piece. He admired how the blue gray eyeball served as a
backdrop to an upside down clock face with inward pointing hands and irrelevant
numerals dancing backward randomly around the iris. The most peculiar part of
the piece was the ice skeletons of the "Danse Macabre" lining the small of the
experiment's back. It was separate yet one with the irrelevantly timed piece
covering the remainder of her back.
*The Dance of Death. I see she understands.*
He dared run a single nail down the entire length of her back, but thought
better of it. He regretted not having his glasses at the moment as his blurry
vision didn't allow him to see the fine lines and details that went into the
prototype's work. Nevertheless, it drew him in. She drew him in, and he
wondered if she was feeling the same way about him.
"Undertaker, is something on your mind?" A female voice, soft and airy, twisted
its way inside his mind. Or was he imagining it? He'd been so lost in his
reverie regarding the divine creature and her tattoo, he had forgotten that he
was supposed to be helping the poor, injured thing with a simple daily task. A
soft hand caressed his face, a small fingertip delicately traced the outline of
his mouth from one slight upturn to the other. Before anything progressed any
further, his clawed hand roughly snatched hers away from his face. Her high
pitched squeak brought him back to the present.
"I'm sorry, Lovely," the silver reaper said sweetly. He kissed the hand he so
abruptly grabbed and let it go, allowing its owner to do with it as she
pleased. "What were you saying?"
The first month turned her back to Undertaker to resume the washing she was
able to do on her own. "I asked what was on your mind. Has my tattoo put you
out of sorts?" She peeked over her shoulder trying to read the look in his
eyes, but his bangs obscured them once again. "You can wash it now. Anyway, it
was given to me some time after I was forced into the eugenics program. All of
us got a unique identifier. Mine is the frozen Danse Macabre." She paused for a
moment as if collecting a forgotten memory. "They mentioned a specific meaning
behind it and our code names, but I forgot what it was exactly. My memory is
spotty. The experiments..." Softness trailed off into silence.
The mortician's hands ghosted along the outline of the back piece. "It's
beautiful work. It's unfortunate that it was given to you in the most cruel
circumstances."
The petite shivered beneath his soft touch and felt her heart beat faster than
ever. She wanted more, but didn't know how to ask for it, or if he'd give it to
her. "I'm ready for my hair, Undertaker. That is, if you don't mind putting up
with it."
The reaper snickered. "I assure you, my dear lady, I can put up with it, as you
say."
As fresh water refilled the tub, the mortician shed his outer and inner robes,
leaving him in skin tight black leather pants, black leather boots buckled all
the way up to his thighs, and a long sleeve white button down shirt. His silver
mane was pulled up into a high ponytail and secured by an elegant black ribbon,
exposing all of his ear piercings. If he were out and about right now women-and
men-would be throwing themselves at him. He bitterly laughed at the memories of
the women and men that he conquered in more ways than one. Still, he felt empty
and hollow inside. Giggling, he returned to the lavender beauty awaiting him.
Footsteps sounding slightly heavier than usual put January's defenses up as she
listened to them approach the bathroom. There was no familiar swishing of
fabric that was her host's robes. She waited nervously of what was to come, but
a wave of relief washed over her when familiar giggles floated through the air
from the doorway. She closed her eyes and breathed, thanking the Goddess it
hadn't been someone that had found their way in to harm her. She allowed
herself to relax with some difficulty, considering the fact that she kept her
knees drawn up to preserve her modesty as much as she could. After taking a few
nerve calming deep breaths she opened her eyes to an entirely different
Undertaker busying himself with some fragrant bottles at the vanity table. When
he stood up he looked a lot taller than he did compared to when he wore the
mortician's robes. The experiment felt like prey trapped in his predator's gaze
by a mere glance at the other in the mirror.
~He is so incredibly beautiful. Every scar, everything....I didn't know that
was hiding underneath all those loose clothes. He's so tall! Oh my
Goddess...he's beautiful...True Death.~
The tattooed lady felt a shiver race up and down her spine and back again when
the man of legendary beauty turned to face her. His glowing green hunter's eyes
locked onto their blue and green targets, holding their owner in place. The
coldest winter month experienced a sudden warm front as a deep red flush spread
to the tips of her ears. The want and hunger she saw fueled by some deeper need
in his eyes made hers glow just as bright as his, if not more so. She studied
every move he made and committed it to memory to the best of her ability.
Everything from the slight sway of his narrow hips to the fluid motion of his
hair to the predatory facial expressions. A soft thud announced the arrival of
a basket of shampoo and other such goodies as well as its carrier. A wooden
stick engraved with Japanese characters was slowly pulled out of her bun by a
certain reaper. With a smug smirk on his face, he leaned in closer, allowing
his nails to graze the nape of the lavender haired woman's neck on its way up
to the second wooden stick securing the messy bun. "See something you like?" he
asked casually as he pulled out the other wooden stick, allowing bloody
lavender to unfurl over pale skin.
"Oh Goddess!" the naked prototype gasped. Blue and green glowed vividly from
wide, staring eyes. She felt another tumbler turn in the lock of her secret
place as she relished the lingering sensation of his nails against her skin.
"I'll take that as a yes," the silver predator chuckled. He was once again
within inches of her face, scrutinizing phosphorescent green eyes combing over
every detail. "My, my, such a lovely creature you are. Perfect skin. You'd be a
lovely corpse, but I much prefer you the way you are...Alive, that is. Hehehe."
"I've never worn cosmetics," the petite girl admitted. "I don't see the use in
them or most other female trappings. I wasn't engineered to be a proper lady."
Scorn filled her voice and poured onto the words like a rich, bitter syrup.
"Just to pass as a commoner while in the mortal realm, and easily go undetected
in case something...Oh my Goddess, Undertaker, your nails feel so damn
good...in case something goes wrong." She sighed contentedly and leaned back
further against the rim of the tub. "Mmm...Undertaker, that feels so nice...You
have such wonderful nails..."Her glowing blue and green eyes fluttered closed
as she savored every moment of the mortician's meticulous yet gentle cleansing
of her hair.
A cool, taloned hand stroked the experiment's cheek. "Naturally exotic in your
simplicity, Lovely." A chain reaction of little shivers and a giddy smile
brought on by the feeling of the backs of his nails bidding their farewell on
her skin served to fuel his hunger for her.
"I'm flattered, but-"
Skeletal fingers twisted their way into lavender tendrils, pulling down hard,
eliciting a gasp from the female. "I wonder, though, if those eyes of yours are
also engineered to glow as bright as they do." His piercing electric green eyes
studied her mismatched glowing orbs with intense scrutiny. "Perhaps, you were
born with a light this enchanting, yes?" The words whispered darkly against
trembling lips. The mortician carefully released her hair from his grip,
purposefully allowing it to slowly drift through his fingers.
They sat in awkward silence for a while. The female had no idea how to respond.
On one hand, she wanted him to pull her hair again, and satisfy that certain
obsession she has. On the other hand, she wanted to kill him. He hit a nerve
with his words.
~My eyes aren't fake. I'm a Rarity.~
The silence was too deafening for the silver reaper, and he figured out why
when he saw the lady shaking like a leaf with her head bowed. Oh, how he hated
seeing lovely ladies cry. Not caring if he got wet, he drew January against him
in a warm, comforting embrace. "Did I upset you, Lovely?" he whispered.
"The thing you said about my eyes...after all that flattery, then to assume
that my eyes glow because it's eugenics related. All Empaths have glowing eyes.
What is wrong with you?" A confused, hurt glow emanated from the lavender
haired girl's eyes.
"I had not meant any insult to you. I meant only to compliment the beauty of
your eyes, whether or not it is genetically engineered or genetically gifted at
birth." The mortician pulled her closer. "If my Lovely will forgive me, I'd
like to finish your hair." He tilted his head to the side exposing sincerity in
the expressive green eyes behind the silver veil. "No more crying. It's
unbecoming of a beautiful lady such as yourself."
A small smile played across the experiment's lips. "Ok, Undertaker." She
blushed madly when he hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "I
just remembered something about my name and tattoo!"
"Oh, that it's a code name," Undertaker stated nonchalantly. "And there we
go...last one. No more tangles!"
The experiment spun around in the tub, splashing water in various directions.
"How do you know that, reaper?" she demanded in icy suspicion.
"Deductive reasoning. Why would a product of eugenics created to be the
ultimate weapon-the prototype, in your case-go about realms using her real
name? Also, the frozen Danse Macabre gave away a winter month, so I had a one
out of three chance of guessing correctly. Your clock, though somewhat relevant
to the piece on your lower back is far newer. It is a testament to you and
quite a clever way to conceal your mark. It really is beautiful." The mortician
rubbed conditioning oil into his guest's hair. "So, what is your real name?"
The scent of mimosa blossoms flooded her senses.
~My Goddess, where did he find that oil?~
"First, tell me yours...please...," the girl demanded in a haze of sweetness.
A seemingly long silence settled between the two prototypes. "Ok, if the lady
insists," the man of unnecessary shadows grumbled. "Adrian Crevan."
Blue and green eyes rolled back as far as they could to meet his acid green
glare. "It's lovely and befitting of someone as beautiful as you. In my
opinion, you look like an Adrian. I can't imagine you with any other name."
"That's really quite flattering, but I'd appreciate it if you kept it between
us."
"I promise I will. Now, I said I'd tell you mine." The girl took a deep breath.
"It's Stella. I hate it, but I suppose it's better than January. Right?" She
giggled at the irony of her own statement.
"You're done!" the mortician exclaimed, wrapping her in a black velvet robe.
"Let's get you fed before you end up as one of my guests. Ehehehe!"
Somehow, he will always know.
Chapter End Notes
     I got my OC/January's "real" name from a song I was listening to at
     the time.
     "Stella Was a Diver and She's Always Down" by Interpol
     Fuck it, I'm putting my headphones back on. Christian Death is on,
     and it's the good stuff when Rozz Williams was with the band.
***** Nightmares *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     Grell is referred to as he/she in this context because my OC isn't
     aware of her gender preference or even who she is in the nightmare
     she's having. It is not meant to be disrespectful to the Grell or to
     transgender folks in general. Because, dammit, I love Grell, too.
     This chapter contains rape, mention of necrophilia, suicide via mind
     control, and graphic violence. You have been warned.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The unnecessary shadows were creeping back onto the mortician's pale face by
the minute as dusk gave way to the night. The beauty that had hypnotized her
during the daylight was swallowed by secret creatures beneath foreboding
darkness. The eyes of a golden jackal stared at the tattooed lady from within
his unnecessary shadows.
"Why are your shadows so unnecessary?" she finally asked.
The possessor of the golden jackal eyes cocked his head, shifting the shadows
in the dim light. "Whatever do you mean, Lovely?"
"When the light fades...it just reminds me of something I keep forgetting. I
know it isn't you, but..." she trailed off into her own dark thoughts.
The mortician removed his hat and brushed back his bangs. "Is that better?" he
asked as he took the woman's small hands in his. "It's been a long day for both
of us. Hehe. You should get some sleep."
The female nodded in agreement and allowed her host to escort her to the
bedroom. She was given one of his button down shirts to sleep in and cautioned
not to disrupt the stitches on her side. Then, darkness followed by silence
after the reaper bid her goodnight and left her alone to drift into a hopefully
dreamless sleep.
                                    xxxxxx
"This was not part of the arrangement, Mr. Glass," a tall bespectacled man clad
in a business suit stated coldly. Metal on metal clicked as pruning shears
pushed steel framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Upper management will
be made aware of this at once!"
The bright blue eyed male rolled his eyes. "Have it your way, Spears."
Spears' eye twitched in irritation as he tried to remain stoic. Still, his
glance down at the experiment held no compassion. "I shall and good day!" With
that, the pruner wielding man stormed off muttering under his breath.
The blue eyed man Spears was conversing with chuckled and shook his head.
"Doesn't that stiff know anything?" The winter month felt a rough hand creep up
her leg and part her thighs. One finger, then two...in, out...in, out. "Souls
are souls. Once there are enough of you, those uptight collectors should be
grateful that Project 0 exists for their benefit as well." Winter remained
frozen against the unwanted attention. "Frigid bitch, just like your name
suggests," the perverted eugenicist growled as he replaced his fingers with a
certain other appendage. His words cut into her psyche like the shards of his
namesake. Still, the ice in her body refused to thaw even with the repeated
heat tearing her up inside. When she still refused to yield to him, his fist
got itself acquainted with her face, and that's when his neck got acquainted
with her hand. The blue eyed male probably should have drugged her first as he
realized he wasn't going to get his gratification. "Oh, shit."
Eyes as black as pitch concentrated on the Glass object that needed to be
destroyed. He was thrown into a corner as the lavender petite sat up.
Expressionless features housed a fearsome weapon that was about to backfire on
him.
~That was the last time, Glass. I remember now...You tried to fuck your sister
once, didn't you?~
"N-no!" the perverted eugenicist denied. "You keep out of my head! You, you
little bitch! I'll have you destroyed too!"
~But she told on you~
"Shut up, I say!"
~and your father beat you with a belt until your disgusting ass bled. To this
day, the skin is still puckered with scars from the beating.~
"Stop this, please," the male pleaded with tears threatening to spill from the
memory.
~Yet you still couldn't stop your atrocities, ARNOLD GLASS! You just had to go
and vivisect the Rarities, didn't you?~ The soft, airy voice echoed
sarcastically within the blond man's subconscious.
~And what you couldn't do with a living woman~
The experiment's eyes were completely black, from the whites to the pupils. She
was still seated and expressionless on the examination table. From deeper in
the eugenicist's filthy subconscious her soft, airy voice became much darker.
~you did with the dying, vivisected Rarities just to get your own amusement
from watching their organs twitch and move with each thrust. Did it satisfy you
to watch blue and green fade to gray when you fucked them to death?~
A stranger named "remorse" introduced itself to the violator of all that are
Rarities. Wails and lamentations burst forth from his putrid mouth. Escape from
the weapon he helped create became inevitable as it was far too late to destroy
it. Regret poured down his cheeks as his hands unconsciously removed his lab
coat and shirt.
~Remember May. Remember how you forced me to watch my love, Mae, be destroyed
in the month of her code name. Remember Mae. Remember her and remember me as
you destroy yourself like she was destroyed. At least you will be spared the
humiliation she suffered at the hands of shit like you and your sick little
friends. Remember Mae. Remember May.~
"I didn't destroy her!" the blue eyed freak argued as he dragged a scalpel over
his flesh. "Doc did."
~Voyeurs are just as cruel. Remember Mae. Remember me. Remember us in May.~
"F-fuck y-you!" he shrieked as he collapsed to the ground in a pile of his own
guts.
~Take a moment to examine how your own filthy insides work, and remember who it
was you tore apart that day. I will never forgive you for making me watch my
love be stolen from me. She was mine and you swine took her. Be happy that your
end isn't as humiliating.~
The Empath tried to protest, but his feeble attempts were in vain as his blue
eyes faded to gray. The bitterly self satisfied voice left his subconscious
mere moments before his passing to the Goddess' Divine Judgement. He would be
forever rejected by Her for the wanton slaughter of Rarities, and no amount of
pleading at Divine Judgement would change Her mind.
The lavender haired woman's eyes returned to grass and sky. A few seconds
passed by when she came to her senses. She felt blood and pain in between her
legs and swelling around her left eye. Luckily she was still clothed in her
long black dress. She frantically removed the tubes and IVs from her arms and
rolled down her sleeves. As she was in the process of buttoning them she
spotted an eviscerated corpse on the floor. She clamped her hands over her
mouth to stifle a scream as her eyes widened in terror. When she remembered
where she was, instinct kicked in as this was a prime opportunity to escape.
She ran down twisting corridors, through a rocky catacomb, and into a brightly
lit room full of books until she saw a bright light ahead of her that was
closing fast. She took a chance and dove into it, barely missing the edge of a
massive blade and hit the ground running without looking back. Once she found a
private place she vented all her terror in a blood curdling scream. In the back
of her mind she wondered why neither presence could sense the other. She knew
something was there because she was here, but what? Then, she stopped caring
because she was finally free.
                                    xxxxxx
Lavender tendrils stuck to a terrified, convulsing woman sitting on the floor
with knees drawn to her chest. She always hated these nightmares. Fast
approaching footsteps arrived at her door and slowed once they entered the
room. Her code name echoed eerily in her ears; deep, muffled, possibly in
another reality. Something warm and solid stopped her convulsing, and oddly
enough began to relax-no, comfort-her. Something soft pressed against her
forehead. The sound of a familiar voice slowly began to bring the experiment
back to the current reality.
"...nightmare. I won't let anything hurt you..."
~I know that voice.~
"Am...am I back in the lab?" the girl asked from between realities.
"No...shop..." the voice continued from far away.
"Who are you?"
"...remember?...Undertaker..." The voice sounded concerned and a bit hurt.
Nevertheless, the mortician giggled a little bit at how surreal this little
scene was. Wasn't it he who usually lost his grip on reality, not the other way
around? At least that's what people were led to believe. If he thought too much
about it, he truly would lose his grip on what little amount of sanity he had
left.
*What did they do to her?*
~That name, that voice...shop~
"Undertaker!" Bright blue and green illuminated her companion's features as she
beheld him in her half mad gaze. "In your shop? No labs?" The panic stricken
woman demanded. She looked for something of his to grab onto, but with no luck,
she climbed on top of him instead and settled for his face. "I'm still free?
You won't make me go back? I won't be destroyed?" Anxious tears flowed freely
down pale cheeks.
"Hehe. Of course not, Lovely," he replied in a soothing voice. "I told you I'd
protect you."
The tattooed woman's eyes glowed brighter as she took in the male's appearance.
His long silver hair was braided loosely down his back and his bangs were
casually swept to the side revealing his alluring green eyes.
~The hat is shadows and dim lights unnecessary.~
She realized that a bare, scarred chest wasn't exactly the same as his robes
when it came down to grabbing on to something out of desperation. She found
herself turning a little pink from staring a bit too long.
~He's pierced there too?~
She squeaked when she felt the reaper pull her body against his and wrap his
long arms around her tiny waist. "Do you promise?" Her blue and green gaze bore
straight into the golden green windows to his soul searching for it. The
answers to her questions, the truth, and to satisfy her hunger. A hunger not
unlike his own. A pair of cold hands held fast to the reaper's face, forcing
him not to avert his eyes from his inquisitor. "Do you promise not to let them
destroy me?" Her words, though softer spoken, were more insistent.
"I can't promise you that," the male responded solemnly. He reinforced his hold
on the lavender lady when she started to wrench herself free from his arms. He
took her chin in one hand and forced her to look at him. "You are not an
object, Stella-"
~He used my real name.~
"-I promise to protect you, and not let them-whomever they may be-kill you," he
stated firmly.
The perplexed cold month relaxed in the reaper's hold. "I-I'm not an object to
you?" she asked skeptically.
"Not at all. To me, you're a lady. Lovely and unusual, but a lady just the
same," he said softly. "Now, why would anyone treat such a lovely lady like an
object?"
"That's just it," the petite replied sadly. "I was engineered to be a weapon,
and weapons are objects."
"Oh, Love-"
The mortician was cut off by a passionately soft kiss from the reality confused
female. "The shadows weren't unnecessary this time," she said softly.
The two prototypes silently cast curious illuminated gazes upon each other
until it developed into a certain kind of hunger. The reaper was the first to
break the stillness by returning the female's kiss. "Your eyes light up when I
kiss you," Undertaker whispered seductively, planting soft kisses and teasing
nips along the Rarity's neck. "Such lovely eyes." His lips captured hers again
in a more heated kiss. Winter thawed as she and the mortician tasted each
other. They let their tongues dance rather than fight for dominance. He
noticeably shuddered as she grazed her nails over the rings in his nipples,
which only made him hold her tighter out of sheer reflex. Again, the reaper
attacked her neck with alternating bites and kisses, and the Rarity, in turn,
let her tongue dance over each piercing in his ears, making sure to tug on the
loops in his earlobes with her teeth, eliciting a pleasured growl. "If you keep
this up, I don't know how much longer I'll be able to control myself."
The tattooed woman pulled back. "Such a gentleman. You know, your eyes glow
when you look at me." She cocked her head to the side. "And it's with such
hunger and there's something far deeper than that driving it, though. Far
deeper than a carnal desire." The female yawned and curled up in the
mortician's lap. "Far deeper...far, far deeper... far...far...deeper..."
*You have no idea how right you are, Lovely.*
The silver haired man smiled down at the petite awkwardly curled in his lap.
"To bed it is, then. Hehe." He scooped her up off the floor and tucked her in,
but instead of going back to sleep in his coffin, he decided to stay with the
petite woman...in case she had another nightmare.
                                    xxxxxx
"Mae? Mae? Mae!"
"Stella, run!" the green haired petite woman yelled. "Go before he comes for
you, too!"
"I won't leave you, Mae! I can still get you out!"
"It's too late. They're here. Go! Now! Hurry!" the green female pleaded.
"You're the strongest, you can survive. Go! NOW!"
The lavender petite nodded and was about to comply with her lover's request
when she was caught by two men and a woman or was it a man? Well, it was red,
had a chainsaw, and was very pissed off about being dragged into this entire
situation.
"Mr. Glass, it seems May's little girlfriend has come to watch her be
destroyed."
"Indeed she has, Doc, so let's give the little bitch a show," Mr. Glass
replied. "Do your worst while I tend to our little frosty one here and make
sure she doesn't get away." The pervert's arm slid around the experiment's
waist. "Are you ready for the show, January?"
"You Empaths are truly disgusting," chainsaw wielder grumbled. "I'm not even
getting paid overtime for this and I don't even...What the fuck are you doing
to that girl!"
Doc, the Empath in charge of May, began a Y-incision on said subject without
her being dead or anesthetized. Screams of terror and anguish flooded the
laboratory that was currently occupied by the group. The lavender haired woman
watched in shrieking horror as her green haired lover was vivisected and
humiliated in front of her. The green haired petite was the only one she'd been
close to before and during the eugenics program. Now, she was forced to bear
witness to spring's destruction, which meant her days were numbered.
"MAE!"
"What are you doing to that girl? You were just supposed to destroy-"
"You're just here for collections, lady-boy," the blond Empath hissed. "Shut
the fuck up and do your job and we'll do ours."
"That is no way to talk to a lady!"
"Can it, Sutcliff!" the other Empath shouted.
The lavender experiment was too petrified to fight her captor after witnessing
the blue and green glow of her lover's eyes fade to gray once her final moments
elapsed.
~I didn't even get to tell her I loved her. She didn't get to tell me she loved
me. At least she doesn't know these sick fucks are humiliating her corpse like
this.~
"Are you quite through?" Sutcliff, the one with the chainsaw, demanded
impatiently. "I have reapings I need to get to. This, however, will not go
unreported." The last part muttered under his or her breath.
"Keep your pants on, Red," Doc said as he backed away from the lifeless
disemboweled form of spring.
"Might I suggest the same to you, Empath," the redhead snapped.
The sound of a chainsaw...muttering about being roped into something this
depraved against their will...surprised gasp..."These records have been
tampered!" the redhead shrieked. Broken film reels flew out of the disemboweled
test subject's lifeless body...fading...
                                    xxxxxx
...To a scene of utter devastation of a realm between two unearthly realms. One
of the unknowns as humans rarely encounter these creatures. In fact, other
beings rarely interact with them at all. Lifeless gray stared out from the once
blue eyes of males and green eyes of females. Bodies laid in bloodied heaps,
cut down by Death Scythes from the onslaught of reapers.
"Remind me again why we're doing this?"
"Sir?"
"Nothing, Spears. I'm just tired of this; tired of this whole lifestyle. I've
been around for a long time. I think I'm just about done with the whole reaping
business."
"But, sir, you're a legend! And, you're my role model." The last part was said
rather bashfully.
The elder inwardly rolled his eyes, despising the hero worship. "I appreciate
the notion, Spears, but I believe I will retire. I don't even see the point to
destroying this realm. I'll no longer be party to it in any way. It's
pointless! I refuse to kill one person here. And whatever damn scheme the
Higher Ups have in mind is beyond my knowledge. As I said, William, I'm done."
"But, sir-"
"Look around you. We're out here following orders, destroying an entire realm
and their people. Why? For what purpose? Can you answer that, Mr. Spears?"
A tall reaper clad in black leather with circular wire framed glasses and a
long dark braid appeared holding a tiny girl with mismatched eyes and lavender
hair. "Oi, Crevan, there's quite a number o' these," he said, referring to the
child. A small smile of amusement tugged at the corners of the little girl's
mouth as he spoke in his thick British accent. "I know of th' orders from the
Bosses, but we wasn't 'spectin' t' find such yung'ns."
"Let them live. I'm tired of the suffering today. I'm tired of it in general."
"Sir, the orders-"
"Spears!" The young man's name came out as a threatening growl. "Look at her,
she is only an innocent child. Enough have died today! Orders from the Higher
Ups or not, I'm done."
A tiny girl with wavy green hair and mismatched green and blue eyes peeked out
from behind the leather clad reaper's legs.
"Well, Jones, it seems that someone thinks you're her daddy." A round of
chuckling bounced back and forth between the elder reapers.
"You'd think so, but th' lil' dear wouldna leave lil' lovely's side. I best be
off lookin' for their parents, eh, Crevan?"
"The efforts may be futile, my friend, but give it a try." Crevan pulled his
friend closer. "If you discover their parents are dead or missing, protect
those girls to the best of your ability. You got that, Jones?" he whispered
lowly. Jones nodded as though the other were still giving orders. "Good. They
don't deserve an unnecessary end."
A tiny hand tugged on his ponytail, distracting him from his hushed
conversation with his friend and subordinate. "You're pretty and your hair is
soft. It looks like moonbeams." The little girl looked down at her green haired
friend. "Right Mae-Mae? He's the pretty one." Her little friend vigorously
nodded and hid behind the dark haired reaper's leg.
"Both of you little ladies are pretty too," the pony tailed reaper replied.
"Ye know," the braided reaper resumed. "I just don't get it. We ain't
murderers, but here we are a'murderin'. Why? 'Cause they keep t'emselves, their
realm borders th' angels an' it scares us? 'Cause they 'ave a dif'rent
religion? Makes us no better than th' humans we reap."
"You're right, Jones. It's like killing your neighbor on the second floor, whom
you don't know, because you hate your neighbor on the third floor."
"You are wise, Crevan."
"Jones, before you leave, I was just telling my student here that I'm retiring.
So, consider this my goodbye to you."
"This is unofficial, I take it?"
"You could say that."
"Some will see you as a deserter, Crevan," Jones warned.
A pair of half frame glasses was thrust into William T. Spears' hand. "Here, do
what you want with these, William. As much as it pains me to say it, you've
been one of my best students. If you can keep your wits about you, you'll go on
to do great things."
"Yes, sir. I'll do my best."
"Jones, I don't care. Let them see me how they wish. I've had enough of this
lifestyle. I was going to retire anyway, but then this..." he swept his arm
out, gesturing to the destroyed realm. "Call everyone back, we're done for the
day, and I'm done, period."
*The devastation for the sake of what? We dare call ourselves gods...*
                                    xxxxxx
~To dream from a mind not mine...~
Chapter End Notes
     Rarities code names are used by those who aren't close with them.
     Also, Mae's code name is May. So, it's not a typo.
***** Confession *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     It's fluffy time and also a bit of time in the emo corner. Get out
     your hankies.
Light, presumably the morning sun, pierced the veil of flesh covering the
weapon's eyes. Lazily and with a frustrated sigh she awakened, finding herself
wrapped securely in the silver mortician's pale, battle scarred arms.
Immediately, her blue and green eyes took on a bright, hungry glow as she
beheld his serene beauty while he slept beside her. Sometime during the night
the loose braid he wore came undone, allowing silver silk to splay loosely
about him in all directions. The lavender experiment stealthily moved the tip
of her pinky over his eyelashes.
~So unnaturally long and soft like velvet.~
This time he didn't open his eyes, so she got a bit bolder. Biting her lip in
concentration, the experiment very delicately traced the scar over her
companion's left eyelid with the tip of her index finger; earning something
between a sigh and a purr from the grinning madman.
"Mornin', Lovely," his voice cracked and husky from sleep greeted.
"Were you awake the whole time?" Embarrassment flooded her skin with an unheard
of shade of read.
"Mm hmm," he hummed, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her hair, getting
lost in its softness. "I thought you were too precious, so I didn't bother
stopping you this time. Hehehe."
The petite woman settled into the mortician's embrace. "You're a madman, you
know."
"So I've been told," he replied with his trademark boisterous laugh.
The pale haired prototypes laid there snuggled up in each other's arms for most
of the morning with contented smiles on their faces. The first month wrapped
her arms around the mortician and intertwined her right leg through both of
his, bringing them closer together. He shivered at the sensation of her leg
languidly rubbing between his pajama clad thighs as she shifted positions. He
instinctively growled from deep in the back of his throat and his hold on her
small frame tightened in a possessive manner causing her to squeak. The reaper
snapped back to reality and loosened his grip on the woman beside him, however,
the look of possessive hunger was still evident in his eyes. "I'm quite sorry,
Lovely," he said apologetically while attempting to soften his gaze. Black
talons stroked lavender locks. "It seems I almost lost control. I will admit
that I have taken a liking to you." A soft smile greeted the lady instead of
the usual creepy grin.
"It's no worse than the wormwood extract you lace your cookies with," she
replied. "I actually did lose control, but I liked it. Kissing you, that is.
You know, you have a lovely smile, Adrian. The little upturned corners and the
points on your teeth...ok, now I just sound stupid." She hid her face in
Undertaker's chest so he wouldn't see how deeply she was blushing. "Do you
really like me even after all the trouble I've caused you and even after how
mean I was to you?"
With a little bit of effort, he made Stella finally look him in the eyes.
~My Goddess, they are stunning!~
"Is such a question really necessary?" To prove his point, the mortician placed
a soft kiss on the Rarity's lips and drew her back into his embrace.
                                    xxxxxx
The wound in the petite's right side healed after almost two months, which was
extremely slow for her, but there was also the severity of the injury to take
into account and the frequent nightmares that plagued her almost every night.
The unconscious violent thrashing that accompanied each passing nightmare
reopened the stitches, leaving behind a crimson reminder of the painful past
that still dwelled within her subconscious. Not once did the silver haired man
lose patience with her every time he had to repair the stitches for he
understood all too well the nature of nightmares and the havoc they wreak on an
unstable mind. Anything she needed, he'd provide; anything she wanted, he'd
give. To him, she was his, but he wouldn't tell her that, unless she wanted him
to. He couldn't delude himself into thinking she felt the same hunger for him
as he did for her, but he often did find himself wondering if they did share
mutual feelings.
                                    xxxxxx
A shadow passed behind the lady at the vanity, no longer catching her by
surprise. By now she'd grown used to the mortician's way of moving about his
home. She paid his reflection no mind as she was hyper-focused on brushing a
single section of her lavender hair over and over again. Memories of spring's
climax coming to a brutal end replayed in her memory and this compulsory action
kept the raging blizzard of emotions at bay.
Her hairbrush was gently removed by a clawed hand, then a shimmering curtain of
silver fell in her periphery quickly garnering her attention. "May I?" A voice
equally as soft as the silver hair surrounding her vision asked. She nodded,
granting the legend silent permission to be close to her in the state of mind
she was in. She squeaked slightly as she was lifted out of the chair and placed
squarely on Undertaker's lap. A long, bony finger was over her lips before she
was able to open her mouth to protest. "Shhh..." the silver haired man
whispered in her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you. Remember?" He took a section
of her hair and began separating smaller sections of it to detangle with his
nails. "How does your hair get tangled so easily, my dear?"
"I'm not sure, but don't stop doing what you're doing." Nails slid down the
back of her neck as a particularly large section of lavender was unlocked. The
experiment clawed the reaper's thighs, pushing herself up against him. "My
Goddess! Your nails feel...so...good. I've...not since Mae...Don't stop,
Adrian...Mmmmm..." Her eyes brightened and fluttered shut as he happily
obliged, using both hands from the top of her head to her shoulders.
"It seems my Lovely has quite the fondness for these talons," the mortician
snickered, wiggling his fingers in his companion's face.
"I don't see why I shouldn't. The way you touch me with them feels so good.
It's like I've been touched by the Goddess Herself."
"Does it now? Hehehe." This time he worked his talons on the sides of her neck,
splaying his fingers out to tease the front. The lavender haired woman
squirmed, pressing her hands into the reaper's thighs with greater pressure as
she ground her backside against him. He secured her around the waist with one
arm and with the other, used his long nails to make the girl's flesh crawl from
her jaw, down her throat, across her clavicle, and back up again.
Glowing mismatched eyes blazed with furious hunger at the man wielding the
teasing talons. Her hand darted out, grabbed the back of his head by a wad of
silver, and pulled him into a wanton, passionate kiss. His clawed hand still
teased her throat, making her hungrier for the beautiful legend. "Oh
Goddess...I-I want you, Adrian," the tattooed experiment quietly murmured into
the kiss.
He broke the kiss and looked at her with a curious grin. "What was that,
Lovely?"
"N-nothing. You're mind is playing tricks on you," the flustered petite
answered.
The reaper coiled his arms tightly around his blushing companion. "I heard you,
and the feeling is mutual," he whispered seductively with a nip to her ear
causing her to turn redder than blood. "You're so cute when you blush."
"Say, why do you call me 'Lovely' all the time?"
"I call you my Lovely because you are lovely," the silver reaper replied,
caressing her cheek. "No, you're actually far more than lovely, but to say
you're beautiful is cliche' and to say you're gorgeous lacks elegance. Pretty
isn't good enough for you and cute is too infantile. So, the closest
description that suits you is lovely." The reaper embraced her and nuzzled the
crook of her neck. On impulse, he let slip an "I love you" that he hoped was
muffled by the kiss he placed there.
*Why did I just say that?*
~Did he say what I think he said? No...weapons are unlovable. But I love him. I
shouldn't but I do. I was a Rarity before the eugenics program...maybe...oh
Goddess, what should I do?~
"I love you, too," the weapon whispered inaudibly.
"What?"
*Shit! She heard me!*
~I sense it from you too, Adrian.~
"Nothing. Weren't you going to do my hair?"
"Oh, yes, that's right. Hehehe." The reaper resumed the task of brushing
lavender locks efficiently and gently.
"May I have a braid today?" the petite requested.
"Certainly, my lovely lady. You may have anything you wish," the silver reaper
replied as he wove an elaborate French braid in lavender locks.
~In that case, can I have you?~
He placed a gentle kiss on the back of the petite's neck when he completed the
task. "How do you like it?"
"It's beautiful! Where did you learn to do that?" the braided Rarity exclaimed.
"I am but a humble mortician, milady. It is my job to make my guests beautiful.
Hehehe."
"You ass!" The experiment playfully shoved him backwards causing him to lose
balance. He instinctively grabbed hold of her as they tumbled to the floor in
an awkward heap; tattoos over scars, curiously staring into each other's
glowing eyes. Neither moved, nor did they want to. "You're so beautiful," the
female spoke as she moved silver bangs further away from the legend's eyes.
"Especially when you sleep. I love the way your eyelashes move when you enter
REM sleep. They are mercury on the edge of flesh. The scar on your eyelid is a
snapping fault line unleashing its wrath on the surrounding skin. But when you
wake up, I can't help but want to live in your eyes, your beautiful mesmerizing
eyes."
The mortician looked bewildered at first, then smiled in amusement at the
woman's unique observation. "That's interesting, my dear. Do you make a habit
of watching people sleep?" he inquired, subtly increasing his hold on the woman
above him.
She blushed and smiled sheepishly. "I used to watch Mae."
"Mae?"
She laid her lavender head on the reaper's chest as she recalled her lost burst
of spring. "She was close to me since early childhood...since before
the...experiments. Both of us were Rarities. Neither of us really knew our
parents, but we heard they were killed the day our realm was destroyed. A man-
a reaper-with a long dark braid and circular glasses in black leather found us
in the temple ruins and took us in and protected us. His name was Marcus Jones,
and he was the only father that Mae and I ever knew. We laughed at his thick
British accent, but he never got angry with us for teasing him. In fact, he
never mistreated us or yelled at us. He raised us as if we were his own until
the day we were...stolen from him." Hot tears sprang forth from the Rarity's
eyes.
"You don't have to say anything more. I do hate to see you suffer so." The
mortician rose to a sitting position while holding his companion close to him.
"No, it's fine." She continued her haunting recollection. "Marcus was always so
protective over Mae and I, but on that day, we could tell that he felt like he
failed us because he was overtaken by a group of Empaths and reapers in his own
home without the ability to save us. I remember hiding with Mae under some
discarded leather garments in the back of Marcus' closet when the fighting took
place, then there was a long bout of silence, and then we were discovered and
dragged out of our sanctuary by several Empaths. Several reapers had Marcus
subdued, and he was looking at us with a mix of fear and fury. We knew he
wasn't angry with us, however, the fear in his eyes was what was reserved for
us. It's almost as if he knew something else was going on, but was keeping it a
secret. Before we were allowed to leave one of the Empaths ordered a tall
reaper with pruning shears to kill Marcus with his own weapon while forcing Mae
and I to watch. That son of a bitch did it; he drove Marcus' Death Scythe right
through his throat without mercy, without remorse, and with cold, calculated
precision while we were forced to watch. Then, he impaled Marcus' chest with
those awful pruners and watched his Cinematic Records, calling him a traitor
under his breath. As he collected Marcus' soul, he gave Mae and I the most
hateful look I've ever seen on anyone's face. We just clung together because we
knew from then on all we had was each other." The female buried her head in the
mortician's robes. "Rarities never know their real parents, Adrian. We're taken
away at birth and raised in the temple."
Something inside the silver reaper snapped. Guilt? Shame? Sadness? He wasn't
sure, but one thing he was sure of, it hurt. It hurt to know that his indirect
involvement with the death of Stella's birth parents, whom she never even knew,
along with hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of other Empaths was the last
straw. It's what finally pushed him to retire. What he didn't understand was
waiting until so many other beings who harmed no one were needlessly
slaughtered before giving up the reaper lifestyle. He was going to do it
anyway, eventually, officially, but what was it about the destruction of a
virtually uncharted realm that caused him to defect? He had his reasons, but
what was the real reason? And his close friend who had reaped alongside him for
centuries? His becoming a guardian to two such lovely girls-one of which he
held close to him now and was falling much too hard and fast for in spite of
himself-was not only, unexpected, but highly illegal, thereby making him a
defector in his own realm. The pain increased at the thoughts, making his heart
shatter. Something wet slid down the mortician's cheek, catching him by
surprise.
*Am I...crying?*
Before the lavender lady continued her sorrowful tale, something wet dripped on
the crook of her neck in a random pattern while some of the moisture slid down
her collarbone in delicate rivulets.
~Why is he crying? Since when do reapers cry? But he's not like other reapers.~
Despite her promise to him regarding the invasion of his subconscious, she felt
it necessary in this instance to break it. She knew he wouldn't tell her what
brought on his sudden change in mood.
~He's such a secretive man.~
This time, however, she wouldn't reveal her knowledge of his subconscious. So,
in she went, and it was just like the nightmare she had a couple of months ago
on the night before the first time she woke up in the beautiful reaper's arms.
Because he had held her that night, she was able to dream through his
subconscious without him being aware. She caught something else in her current
journey in his mind that wasn't there in the dream that the reaper was
grappling with, which could also be the cause of his tears: his deeper feelings
for her. The timing is too soon, but the fear of losing her and once again
being condemned to a life of loneliness outweighed the convention of timing in
matters of the heart. It broke her heart that he bore scars that ran deeper
than the surface of the skin, but no one would notice as he was so adept at
covering them with comedy. No wonder he hardly has a grip on his sanity.
In order to prevent herself from revealing her knowledge regarding the reaper's
reason for his sudden mood swing, the petite lady decided to continue her
story. "Mae and I were carted off to a laboratory in your realm where we were
experimented on. I won't go into that again. We grew closer while we were there
until we eventually became lovers. Well, more than lovers. She was special to
me and I to her. All of us were abused, drugged, and raped. Somehow, Mae and I
would get days outside and we'd run off to a little hideaway and talk and make
love or just enjoy the silence and each other. Then, it all stopped the day she
was destroyed when that son of a bitch vivisected her and humiliated her in
death. His blue eyes shined like the sun that day. He was so filthy! Then this
red person with a chainsaw impaled her and collected her soul. What is it with
you people? Empaths belong to the Goddess!" the weapon curled up in the
mortician's lap attempting to hide in his cloak. It was both sad and amusing.
The legend didn't know how to respond. Under any other circumstance, he'd tease
the girl's antics, but given the current situation, such behavior was highly
inappropriate. The couple's severe height discrepancy served her well because
she managed to hide the entirety of her form inside his loose cloak. The reaper
felt her small arms squeeze his waist.
*How did she unbutton this thing without me noticing?*
"I love you so much, Adrian," came a muffled whisper from within the
aforementioned man's cloak.
"What was that, Lovely?" A question delicately posed to a delicate woman hiding
in a cloak from her own pain.
"Nothing!" her muffled voice huffed as she buried her face in the mortician's
side, making him giggle. "Don't laugh at me."
"Don't tickle me!" he snapped.
That response was enough to bring the sobbing girl out of hiding. Curious
glowing eyes studied the reaper's for any signs of deception and finding none,
she mischievously smiled. "You're ticklish?"
"Please don't," he pleaded.
"What do I get if I don't tickle you?"
"First, tell me what you said."
"Nothing, I was just thinking out loud."
"Bullocks. I heard my name, my real name," the silver legend spoke in a serious
tone, though the love in his eyes betrayed it.
"Fine," the experiment groaned, knowing there was no way she was going to get
out of this predicament. "I said 'I love you so much, Adrian.' It just slipped
out. Are you satisfied now?"
The legendary prototype's eerie green eyes took on a unique glow as a satisfied
yet warm smile graced his features at hearing the woman's confession. She
stared back at him, face flushed scarlet with embarrassment. He lifted her chin
up with his index finger, then with both hands on either side of her lovely
face, kissed her with sweet abandon. "I love you as well, Lovely," the legend
murmured softly as they continued to explore each other's mouths. "But I must
warn you," he said, pulling away only slightly. "I am a very possessive man. I
will do everything in my power to protect what is mine." The reaper cocked his
head to the side and tucked a stray tendril of lavender behind the lady's ear.
His hypnotic green eyes searched her glowing blue and green orbs for signs of
understanding.
She simply responded by sweeping his bangs out of his eyes and gently combing
her delicate fingers through his silver hair. "Do you mean it? I mean, you're
not doing it out of pity?" The mortician nodded, pulling her against him.
"Good, I'm glad." She beamed and kissed him softly with half lidded eyes as she
wrapped her limbs around him. Electric shivers passed between the prototypes
intensifying the glow of their eyes as they gradually deepened the kiss with a
certain inexplicable tenderness neither individual had a grasp on quite yet.
They savored the moment locked in each other's illuminated gaze.
"Your eyes are glowing," the mortician pointed out as he tapped the girl's nose
with the end of his fingernail.
"So are yours," she replied, poking his cheek, making him blush for a change.
"Look who's blushing now!" A welcome round of giggles burst out of the girl.
"You look so cuuuuute when you blush!"
Both beings had a good belly laugh at the lavender haired woman's horrible
attempt at impersonating the mortician's teasing tone of voice. Both were even
happier that their love for the other would not go unrequited.
~He really does look cute when he blushes.~
***** Blood *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     Extremely graphic violence, certain *parts* are removed, definitely
     not for the sqeamish. Suicide via mind control.
     *YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*
     Sexy time! If you're expecting smut, so sorry, you get erotica
     instead. It's more fun. Also trichophilia time! Trichophilia is
     basically a hair fetish. Notably the hair on your head.
     *YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*
     Thanks to all who took time out to read this twisted tale of mine.
     *waves* Enjoy!
It was dark for two in the afternoon, but that's not unusual for a storm
swollen sky on any given day. She had hoped to make it back to her love, to her
reaper, before the bruised sky meted out its punishment on those foolish enough
to remain outside in May's wrath. The month of May and the storms it brings.
How it makes the blood so much easier to wash away.
~May.~
She would have made it before the sudden onslaught of severe weather if two
thieves hadn't tried to stop her first.
~...Mae...~
She just wanted to bring home her wares and watch her silver reaper do what he
does best. Maybe later he'll feed her obsession again with another braid or
perhaps a French twist with those wonderful nails tugging through the strands,
grazing her scalp, and making her shiver with delight. Ah, but it was a little
late for that as she was stuck staring down two thieves barely a street away
from the shop. One of them held her at gunpoint while the other dug
relentlessly through the shopping bag, violently throwing its contents around
in search of something worthwhile. Jars rolled around aimlessly, bottles broke
as they hit the ground, thuds and splats of groceries were audible in the
alleyway as they, too plummeted to their deaths. Cold black irises scanned the
immediate area finding most of the cosmetic supplies destroyed, all the
groceries useless, but the embalming supplies were still salvageable for the
most part. A harsh laugh broke the sweeping gaze of the black eyed petite.
"Hey, mate," the gunman slurred. "Looks like that old bastard has 'imself a
lil' playtoy, eh?" He nodded at the items strewn about the trio in the alleyway
and tapped the muzzle of the gun on the petite girl's head. "How old are ya,
lil' girl? Ya shouldn't be out 'ere without yer parents." He let out a high
pitched round of ironic cackling that his partner in crime quickly caught onto
and followed suit.
"Yeah..." He perused the items displayed before him, obviously not realizing
what he was throwing around at first until he picked up a jar of formaldehyde.
"I don't think that old loon'll mind if we...borrow her for a while."
~Yes he will.~ Her soft, airy voice sliced straight into both men's
subconscious minds simultaneously.
The entirety of her eyes became glaring obsidian. Lavender tendrils crept out
of their delicately positioned places in the intricate style the mortician gave
her that morning. Her face was expressionless, body motionless, but her mind
was lethal.
~I know all about you and your partner in crime over there. It's in more ways
than one, isn't it? You like to watch, don't you?~
"Hey!" the gunman protested.
~And you. I know all about what a big pervert you are. But, honestly, do you
prefer boys or girls?~
"What the-" the unarmed man looked at the lady in black with an angry
bewildered expression.
~I know~ The soft, airy voice danced in their subconscious minds. ~You like to
watch while he does all the work, isn't that right? You think that watching
little ones get violated isn't as bad as being their violator?~
The flabbergasted gunman dropped to his knees, unsure of how to respond, so he
shook his head in disbelief.
~Do you honestly think I'm some child you can take advantage of?~
The gunman had no excuses, no defense, nothing to say for himself as he
muttered broken apologies to an unsympathetic woman. The voice in his head was
not his own, yet it drove him on, urged him to put the pistol in his mouth and
pull the trigger. He shut his eyes, rain disguising tears he forgot he could
cry, and obeyed the command in his head as a clap of thunder camouflaged the
sound of his final egress. At least he would be spared the sight of what was to
come.
~Now you...you prefer little boys, don't you? I bet you were preferred when you
were a little boy, too. You'll take little girls. It doesn't matter to you. As
long as they're young and can't fight back. Am I right?~
"Fucking bitch! Whore! Only a whorish monster would willingly shack up with
that necrophiliac! You call me a pervert! Me? Me! At least I like them alive!"
the child raping thief bellowed.
The lavender woman's blackened orbs seemed to narrow at the man with the ghost
of a snarl appearing and disappearing on her pouty lips, however, her gaze
remained fixed on her target. The voice that was once soft and airy in his
subconscious became cold and sharp as she let her next choice of words cut
deeper into the breaking man's psyche.
~So says the boy who took it up the ass from his old man and liked it.~
"W-what's wrong w-with..." the sick thief trailed off. In a blur of confused
tears he'd unwittingly picked up a fairly large shard of glass and had already
cut open one wrist.
~Go on, join your friend. He was more than ready to escape. Hurry now.~
The woman in black continued to stare motionless at the man who attempted to
rob her. She had broken him, but she wasn't satisfied yet. He'd already sliced
his other wrist and was bleeding profusely. It was time to get creative. He
insulted her silver love and she wouldn't stand for it.
~Get rid of it.~ The cold, steel blade of her voice cut deeper and deeper still
into his mind. ~Get. Rid. Of. It. You're useless. It is useless.~
Knowing on the deepest level what the black eyed woman meant, the mugger
loosened his trousers and crudely removed his manhood with the familiar jagged
shard of glass he'd used on his wrists. Something akin to regret swam in the
child rapist's and sometimes thief's eyes as he stared at the woman. "What are
you?" he slurred as he dropped to his knees. His head lolled around unsteadily
and came back to gaze upon the girl with glazed over dirt brown eyes in hope
for some logical explanation out her.
~I'm just a friend, and as a friend, I have a word of advice. I suggest that
you keep your eyes off of me.~
The eeriness of her voice echoing deep inside his mind prompted the man to claw
his eyes out. He was dying anyway, so what difference would a matter of
misinterpretation make in the end? For the briefest of split seconds before the
optic nerves snapped, the filthy man saw the female's eyes transform to their
original state. A look of abject horror would have been frozen on his face had
he not clawed his eyes out, but no one would ever know the fear he felt as he
finally collapsed face down in a pool of his own undignified blood.
A dirty brown eye staring up at the lavender haired woman from the tip of her
shoe reminded her of the deed she had just done. She couldn't scream. She was
too shocked to utter a sound.
~I've done it again! How am I going to explain myself?~
Then she remembered she needed to get back to the shop. Surely, Undertaker
would be worried about her. She salvaged everything she could, knowing full
well she'd probably have to explain the missing or damaged items when she
arrived. He was going to be pissed, especially about the socks. He loved his
frilly pink socks.
~But they can easily be cleaned.~
The female kicked an eyeball away from her shoe as she prepared to leave the
alleyway as discretely as possible. Seeing no one around, she exited into the
side street heading to the funeral parlor. What she was totally unaware of was
a certain pruner wielding reaper spying on her from a rooftop a few buildings
away just outside of range of her senses.
                                    xxxxxx
The petite female hastily dropped the wet shopping bag on the floor next to a
coffin and ran upstairs to the bedroom without a word to the mortician. She
stripped herself of her clothing, throwing it in the middle of the floor and
dashed into the bathroom to draw a hot bath. She didn't even wait for the tub
to fill up before she got in. She undid her hair, throwing the pins in a frenzy
of flying metal while waiting for the water to reach the level she preferred.
She picked the closest scented oil to add to the scalding hot water. She didn't
care, she wanted to relax after her ordeal. Finally, it was off with the water,
and on with the relaxing, which didn't last long when she heard the mortician
knock on the door asking permission to enter. She groaned and granted his
request. Expecting the worst, the lavender winter sunk deeper into the water,
attempting to melt into its heat. She paid more attention to the dusty swirls
of lavender floating around her submerged body than she did to the other
presence in the room.
~I did it again, but they were going to hurt me and take our things. Who's
"our"? Oh, that's right! Him. The man with unnecessary shadows. They called him
a necro-~
"STELLA!"
"Huh?" The confused female looked up in a daze, suddenly jarred from her
thoughts. The sweet face of her companion was leaning his head on the rim of
the tub and smiling at her despite the worried look in his acidic eyes. She
peeked through wet hair and saw that he removed his outer robes and the odd top
hat. A tinge of pink dusted her cheeks when she caught herself staring too
long.
"What has you so bothered that you had to run up here without speaking to me?
Have I upset you?" The silver braid behind the reaper's right ear lazily fell
into the water as he tilted his head to the left. She didn't feel like
answering him at the moment. Instead, she opted to play with the stray silver
braid. For the sake of comfort, the first month also laid her head on the rim
of the tub beside that of her companion's. His taloned fingers softly stroked
her cheek. "Have I done anything to upset you, Lovely?" he asked again.
No response came from the beginning of the year.
*What has got her so upset? It's quite unusual for her.*
"I dismember people by thinking," she said through gritted teeth.
"They...fucking deserved it, alright! They deserved to be their own end! One of
them...I hate humans! They...They called you a necrophiliac and a pervert
because...well, you know why. Then, they tried to rob me and kidnap me to do
who knows what kind of perverse things with me!" The project wept bitter, cold
tears. "Does anyone know how old I am? Do you even know how old I am?"
The silver haired man listened intently to the shivering petite mess in the
bath. He knew what she was capable of and could care less if she used her
power. In fact, it fascinated him. Ultimately, all he wanted was for her to be
safe and happy.
*Heehee. 'I dismember people by thinking.' What a peculiar lady my Lovely is,
but that's what I adore about her.*
"Come on, Lovely," the reaper cooed. "You're shivering. You need to get out of
the water. You don't want to get sick, do you? Hehehe." He gathered some towels
and allowed the girl to dry herself. "Better, eh?" She yelped in surprise when
she felt herself being lifted off the floor and carried to the bed where a
fresh gown was waiting.
~Somehow, he always knows.~
"Tell me then, how old are you?"
"I'm fifty-five, but most people place me between twelve to fourteen on account
of my stature. It's not easy being 5'2" and looking far younger than you are.
All Empaths are short. Occasionally, a tall one will crop up, but those are
always Rarities. Oh, and Rarities don't age. So, when I'm 100 or 200, I'll
still look the same." The experiment laughed humorlessly.
~If Mae were still alive she'd be fifty-three.~
The male merely raised an eyebrow. A hungry flash passed over his
phosphorescent eyes as he watched the experimental beauty shake damp lavender
tresses over the back of her newly donned gown. He silently coiled his arms
around the still shivering lady, nuzzling his face in her hair. He closed his
eyes, pleasurably taking in the sweet smell of mimosa blossoms. As per usual he
gave in to the compulsion to detangle the fine lavender mess that he found
absolutely delectable like a confectioner's treat.
*How fascinating it is that these creatures are born with such vibrant colors
only to have them blacked out, erased. Such a shame.*
Winter let loose a heated moan from parted lips as the mortician released the
final tangle from a long strand of lavender at the nape of her neck. She
pressed her body close to his, taking pleasure in the feeling of his long nails
scratching the surface of her skin. A sharp pain quickly overshadowed by
pleasure was present on her neck, just an inch or so above her collarbone. She
felt it again and something wet trickled out of it. Blood? Then, something
moist seemed to soothe it, and then the sharp pain...That's when she realized
Undertaker had just claimed her. "Oh Goddess!" Winter's ice melted in the
reaper's warm embrace. She turned to face him with a rabid hunger in her
glowing eyes. Her delicate fingers twined themselves around his silver braid,
sending cold chills through her body followed by a sudden sensation of warmth.
"Adrian..."
The reaper placed a long finger over her lips, and as if reading her mind,
replaced it with his lips. "The feeling is mutual, Lovely," he purred pulling
her on top of him. He kissed her gently at first then gradually it became more
passionate as each layer of clothing was shed. A low growl thrummed in the
silver haired man's chest as the experiment teased him with the ends of her
lavender tresses the way an artist wields a paintbrush. She only stopped to
nibble at the loops in his nipples and practice her own brand of oratory on his
member. The petite yelped as she was roughly pulled up by her hair to meet the
ravenous double irises of the pale reaper.
"Harder," the petite moaned. "Pull harder." The reaper happily obliged and
plunged his fingers into a sea of lavender. "Do it, Adrian! Pull hard!" At the
female's command, he twisted his fingers into the fair sea and pulled to her
heart's content. Delicate fingers crept into a silver sea to return the favor.
"Your hair is so soft, Adrian," the girl breathed into their kiss. "You're
beautiful."
"And you're a little masochist," the mortician replied with a lighthearted
giggle. He captured her lips in a hungry kiss. "But, you're my little
masochist," he said trailing kisses down her throat and to each of her breasts
while she knotted her fingers deeper into silver tresses.
"I am."
Death felt like heaven inside of her. His black nails left red lines down her
back as she snapped her hips only to further fuel her hunger for him. Winter's
unfurled lavender hair splayed out over her naked form, sticking to some parts
of her in sweaty strings while others moved in tandem with her delicately
viscous movements. She felt like heaven above him. The dead of winter pulled
the legend up by his silver hair and wrapped her legs around his waist. He held
her close, letting their bodies meld into one. He was hers. Two sets of
illuminated feral eyes stared at each other as Death and winter blurred the
lines of pleasure and pain, gluttony and famine. He was the key that unlocked
her secret place, and she was the goddess to his cult. And in their lover's
names, they cried out, passion spent.
                                    xxxxxx
The lavender haired woman was sleeping safely in her beautiful reaper's arms,
but could sense someone near his shop. It was the one with the chainsaw who had
taken Mae's soul after those sick eugenicists humiliated her in death.
~And they forced me to watch because they knew we were lovers.~
January was unsure if the red reaper was friend or foe. She knew that the stoic
male with the pruners was an enemy to her. He killed the only father figure she
knew without mercy or remorse. On the day she killed Arnold Glass, all the
stern, uptight reaper cared about was rules and regulations, not her well
being. It was obvious in the look he gave her as she silently begged him with
unshed tears in agonized blue and green eyes. He had looked at her with such
hate and disgust while keeping the rest of his expression neutral except for
the occasional irritated twitch of the eyebrow.
~As if that matters.~
"Stella, love, are you alright?" the groggy mortician mumbled. He wiped a stray
tear off his lady's cheek, lightly grazing her eyelashes.
"I was just thinking about things and my mind wandered down the usual dark
path." She rolled over facing the legend and moved his shaggy bangs out of his
eyes. "You really did a number on my neck," the petite said enthusiastically,
hoping to change the subject.
The silver prototype softly kissed the mark he left on the female's neck. A
genuine, happy smile stretched across his face. "That's because you're mine,
Lovely. No one else can have you. Just as I am yours and no one else can have
me."
"My people don't believe in caging wild animals," the Rarity said softly.
"You're a peculiar creature, aren't you?" the mortician chuckled. "That's not
what I meant at all, Lovely. As I said, I'm a very possessive man, and I will
do everything in my power to protect what is mine, but I will never hurt you. I
will never deny you your freedom."
"Good. I would've been disheartened if you were trying to tie me down. My
people don't believe in that." She smiled, draping an arm over the reaper's
slim waist and nuzzled into his chest. She looked up suddenly, blue and green
locking onto double irises of acidic green, both sets of eyes glowing intensely
and curiously at each other. "Adrian, I adore you."
***** Merge *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's communication/thoughts =
     Thanks to all who stopped by to read my twisted tale of twisted
     twistiness. Enter the Ikiryo. The Ikiryo in my story is very loosely
     based off of the Ikiryo of Japanese legend. So, no chastising.
     Enjoy!
~Hurt. Everything hurts. Why are my own people doing this to me? What is that
thing in the glass cage with the black eyes? It's so scary. I wanna go home! I
want Mae! I want Marcus! Why do these people-~
"No! No more shots! NO! NO! NO! STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!" the lavender child
cried out in fear and rage. Her mind unwittingly summoned the power to throw
the Empath scientists away from her. The poor child hadn't the slightest idea
that she was going to be a prototype for the most advanced eugenics project in
all the realms. She would be made into the ultimate weapon to serve a higher
purpose for a war of retribution.
The eugenicist called for backup while the frightened girl threw her tantrum.
Two more male Empaths stepped in along with a bespectacled pruner wielding
reaper. The girl, however, never relented in her fit of crying rage as the
three newcomers approached. If she could, she would run away, but her little
legs were heavily restrained to the examination table.
"I WANT TO GO HOME NOW, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"
The black haired Empath tsk'd, "Now, now, young lady, it's inappropriate to use
foul language at such a young age."
His sarcastic tone of voice garnered snickers from the other males in the room
except for the stoic reaper. He stood there, expressionless, save for the
disgust swimming in the green and gold of his double irises each time they
swept over the little Rarity.
"I wanna go home!" the little girl cried desperately.
Pruning shears zipped through the air, clamping around the girl's throat,
holding her in place with just enough pressure to keep her immobilized long
enough for the other males to finish restraining her limbs. Once she was
completely secured, the mean looking reaper retracted his Death scythe and
exited the room, leaving her alone with the other three males of her own kind.
~But they're not...~
The first scientist reapproached her with a needle full of a dark purple
substance. This time she was unable to thrash about. All she could do was cry
like the child she was. His blue Empath's eyes glowed eerily as he held the
needle in front of his face, his grin stretching wider as more unnecessary
shadows absorbed the contours of his smooth skin. Softly chuckling to himself,
"This won't hurt a bit, my pretty."
The little lavender girl's big mismatched eyes glistened with terrified tears
as the mad scientist injected purple poison into her bloodstream. It burned
like hellfire and froze her to the bone all at once.
"STOP! STOP! STOP!"
                                    xxxxxx
"STOP! STOP! STOP!" Silent screams spilled from the Rarity's mouth.
"...Lovely!...up...-mare. Please, wa-..."
"STOP!" Another soundless shout emitted from the thrashing female stuck between
two realities.
"Wake up! ..........Lovely."
Blackened pits snapped open, scanning their surroundings. They landed on a
silver haired male with bangs covering half of his scarred face. She gave him a
quick once over. Pale skin, long scars taking their place on random parts of
his body, obviously very tall-6'5" by her estimate, tactical advantage-and long
limbed, thin, athletic build, long fingers, long nails, long hair, and
he's...naked and quite well endowed. She, too, was naked beneath the plush pink
blanket.
=Did they make love last night?=
She of the black eyes roughly pulled back the male's silver bangs. The most
beautiful pair of piercing green double irised eyes framed by unnaturally long
silver lashes looked back at her.
=Everything about him is long.=
They were the kind of reaper's eyes that couldn't lie. He was a prototype; the
first and most powerful of his kind. He is brutality. He is Death. But the way
he treated her and the way he looked at her with his stunning eyes...He was
always so gentle with her, never lost his patience with her, and was ever so
devoted to her. She was special to him and she didn't understand why. It's not
a weapon's job to understand such things.
=Those eyes. Oh Goddess! I could live in the eyes of Legendary Death.=
Hollow obsidian stared desperately into phosphorescent green as she struggled
to find her voice. It didn't sound quite as soft and airy as it did when it was
inside someone's mind, rather, it sounded like the staccato of a Gatling gun
merging with the soprano of an opera singer. The sound cruelly reverberated in
the ears and minds of anyone listening to hear as she opened her mouth to speak
her first words, "Ex nihilo." Her eyes searched his for understanding. "Can you
love a weapon like you love her?" She could hear herself in her mind, but
wasn't sure if he heard her cries as well. "Can you love the bastard child of
the Goddess?"
She realized she was only mouthing her pleas frantically at the reaper, yet he
continued to show her compassion, and paid no mind to the small hands twisting
silver around them in desperation. She could tell by the eyes that couldn't lie
that he loved her, that he'd do anything for her. A foreign substance leaked
from one of her eyes and slid down her cheek. Some sweet words were whispered
in her ear that she didn't understand the meaning of as long, battle scarred
arms wrapped around her. More of the foreign substance leaked from the black
pits and slid down her pallid cheeks leaving her wondering if she was broken
and in need of repair...or
=Is this what it feels like to be loved?=
She felt abandoned. Oh Goddess, did she feel lost and confused. She closed her
eyes and returned the reaper's embrace.
=Do weapons deserve love? Do the bastard children of the Goddess deserve love?
Do I deserve love?=
She had to reevaluate herself. This certainly was not her life prior to the
eugenics program. All of these feelings were foreign to her. The rush of
warmth, the feel of Legendary Death's arms around her. If the goal of the
eugenics program was to create a new being out of her and the beloved child of
the Goddess, then it worked too well.
                                    xxxxxx
=I am Yurei. I know the memories of the dead better than any being. I am not
Shinigami as I can possess the mind of the living and cause them to be their
own end. I am not demon as I do not feast upon their souls. Yurei have no place
above or below, but we are not neutral. We are banished to the mortal realm to
roam about for all time.
I am Ikiryo. I am formless; an outcast among the bastard children of the
Goddess. I do not know emotion. I am the negative to the Rarity. She is she. I
am you. Rarities are revered, Ikiryos are reviled.
She is she. I am you.
I am the oldest Ikiryo. The others didn't care when a group of female Empaths
came for me. As a matter of fact, they were more than happy to send the
Formless One away in an Unwilling Host. I had a premonition that more would
soon follow. What would the Goddess' fruit want with their bastard siblings? My
curiosity was piqued when we reached familiar grounds: The Great Library. I
hushed my thoughts and turned my focus outward to the surrounding environment
as the three female Empaths strode past the Great Library to a non descript
white building standing isolated among its peers. The three grass eyed women
talked excitedly among themselves, the glow of their eyes brightening and
dimming with each corresponding emotion.
An effeminate Shinigami sashayed past us, flipping his long, beautiful red hair
over his shoulder as he went by. His black and red stiletto ankle boots clicked
the cement and stopped abruptly when he was greeted by one of the ladies.
"Hi, Mr. Sutcliff," the female blond greeted sarcastically, eliciting snickers
from her companions.
The redhead narrowed his eyes. "It's MISS Sutcliff. What do you...ladies want?"
(I suppose I should address the redhead as a she, seeing as that is what is
preferred. I also can't tap into the Shinigami's mind from inside a useless
corpse, either) She gave the green eyed trio a fake smile full of shark like
teeth.
"We just wanted to ask for your help transporting this...thing with us to the
electrical engineering lab," the black haired Empath cooed.
The Shinigami's grin grew wider. "Only if I can paint the walls red with your
blood." A chainsaw appeared in her hands, a Death Scythe. "If not, I have souls
to reap."
The black haired Empath scoffed. "Not on your pitiful life, Grell."
"Just help us already. Dammit!" the blond demanded impatiently.
The chainsaw wielding reaper cocked her head to the side and giggled like a
deranged school girl. "Fuck you." She winked and ported out to the mortal realm
to presumably go reaping. I like Grell's attitude.
I am a test subject. My sense of time is nonexistent as a supernatural being.
I've been trapped inside an Unwilling Host, unable to probe the minds around
me. I know I'm in some kind of laboratory. I'm constantly being bombarded by
electrical currents meant to simulate the merging of myself and a Rarity's
consciousness. An unusually tall female Empath with a sad glow to her rich
green eyes has been caring for me. She understands the concept of Ikiryo.
I am not alone. I find myself relocated to a different laboratory. An
unconscious little girl with lavender hair is rolled in on a stretcher and laid
out on an examination table. She is carefully restrained by her limbs and
torso. The female scientist that cared for me has been replaced by three males,
and their sky blue eyes are aglow with malice and, dare i say, lust. A tall
stone faced man wearing a black business suit with neatly parted black hair,
rectangular framed glasses, gripping pruning shears stood at the ready. He
glared at the little girl in outright contempt with double irises of gold and
green. How can anyone hate such a tiny thing?
One of the men strips the girl of her clothes and attaches electrodes to her
body. Her eyes open revealing a dull blue and green glow. Mismatched, a Rarity.
I now realize that her genetic code has been cracked and the eugenics program
is beginning with us. We will be the prototype. I feel nothing for her as I am
a stranger to emotions, however, I do find the ethics questionable, and the
fact that children are being used as lab rats morally objectionable. They are
too young to give consent to an experiment of this magnitude. They lack the
cognitive functioning to make those kinds of decisions.
A long needle is inserted into her tiny arm. She whimpers as green liquid is
pumped through her veins. Then, violent spasms take over her small body that,
thankfully, the restraints keep her from flinging herself off the table.
Her tiny voice squeaked out a prayer to the Goddess in a dead language before
slipping into a coma.
For several weeks they'd experiment on her. She'd always stare at me with huge
mismatched eyes. The fright was plainly written on her face, but the curious
glow her eyes emitted betrayed it. The blue eyed Empaths confirmed their
findings with their green eyed counterpart and the project was ready to
commence. We were to be merged at once.
On that fateful day, I found out why a Shinigami had been present. I had
nothing to fear. I have no soul to reap, but the girl...That's when I saw him
coming for me. I peered around him to the best of my ability and saw the girl
hooked up to monitors with an IV drip. A pair of long, hair thin needles were
inserted in the corners of her eyes and her mouth was bound so she couldn't
open it to scream. In fact, she was completely restrained from head to toe to
keep her from moving. I, inside the Unwilling Host, was placed on an exam table
beside the Rarity's and placed under minimal restraints (what's a useless
corpse going to do?) and an identical set of needles were placed in the corners
of the Unwilling Host's eyes. A machine buzzed and I felt myself leave the cold
emptiness of the dead body. Then, I felt a sudden rush of warmth cradle me. A
new consciousness tried merging with me, but I can't allow it. We will only
coexist independently and that is all.
Her shrieking and crying still do not move me. I am still a stranger to
emotion, but not to the memories of the living or the dead. I am Ikiryo.
She is she. I am me. We are one weapon. Code name: January.=
                                    xxxxxx
The silver reaper laid beside his precious ice storm who stirred and whimpered
every once in a while until she finally went limp. Her heart rate slowed to a
snail's pace and her breathing was shallow enough to fool the untrained eye
into believing that she had slipped into unconsciousness.
*Please wake up, Lovely.*
He placed but a ghost of a kiss on her lips.
*Please wake up, Lovely.*
He wrapped his arms around her protectively, drawing her close to him. It's
been two, going on three days and he hasn't left her side. "I love you," he
said, kissing the crown of her head.
*Please wake up, Lovely.*
"I'm awake."
This time blue and green met his concerned but powerless gaze. The Rarity
blinked several times trying to adjust her vision. Something felt strange with
her eyes and her mind as if she was once blind and had been given the gift of
sight.
=She is she and I am you.=
The Ikiryo.
=She is me and I am she.=
The Ikiryo is merging with her memories. "I have a headache. How long was I
sleeping, Adrian?"
The legendary reaper couldn't avert his eyes from his lover. Her eyes...
*Her eyes...They've changed.*
It seems the eugenics program was too successful with January. He was about to
open his mouth to answer her when she vanished into thin air, leaving the faint
blue and green afterglow of her eyes.
***** Purge *****
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to check out the story.
     *waves*
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =
     More sexy time, now with more kink, and if you squint hard enough you
     might see a tiny bit of smut. If slight bloodplay and masochism isn't
     right for you, you might want to skip over the festivities in this
     chapter. **You have been warned.**
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The reaper's oncoming panic was alleviated when he heard retching noises coming
from the adjoining bathroom.
*How did she just vanish like that?*
He quietly opened the door and approached the sick girl with concern written
all over his pale, scarred face. Somewhere within the depths of his green eyes
confusion lurked like a stalking shadow, though he endeavored to keep it hidden
for her sake. "Are you alright, Lovely?" he softly inquired, kneeling beside
her. He gently raked his nails through sweaty lavender clumps, pulling them
away from the trembling Rarity's face and draping them over her back. Her skin
was feverish, and dripping with sweat. She felt like the fires of the deepest
depths of Hell, which concerned him greatly. He knew in the back of his mind
that that a merger of two complete, independent beings was taking place, yet he
hadn't the faintest idea how to help the woman ease her distress. "I'll go
fetch you some cool water," the reaper stated in a soft, clinical tone. The
sick woman weakly nodded and resumed vomiting.
The experiment slowly turned her head to face the legend when she felt
something moist and cool pressed against her forehead. "How long was I asleep,
Adrian?" she asked the man holding the cold, wet cloth against her forehead.
"Almost three days."
The female stared wide eyed in shock at her lover, silently echoing his reply
before returning to her next round of nauseous fury. The lavender ice purged
years of the eugenics program from her body: the powerful drugs; the
experiments, especially the field tests; the abuse, torture, and being forced
to witness it done to the others; the rapes from the time she arrived until the
day she escaped; the destruction of the others; being forced to watch the death
of Mae; and fear, especially fear. She no longer understood fear. A
kaleidoscope of bitter fire spewed forth from within eliminating all that held
back the lavender haired woman from accessing her full power. She purged
weakness from herself. Empath and Yurei had merged. Rarity and Ikiryo had
joined. She was One.
"We are one," the petite said, her voice unaffected by the change. "I am me,
you are you. I am you, you are me. We are one." The weapon snapped her head up
and grabbed the reaper's hand, digging her nails into his flesh deep enough to
draw blood. Her mismatched eyes glowed desperately in their dark confines. "Can
you still love a weapon? Can you still love me knowing what I am, what I've
become?"
"Can you still love someone who doesn't hesitate to kill their own kind to keep
their weapon?" the silver haired reaper inquired with a raised eyebrow as he
summoned his Death Scythe. "This has been with me for a very long time, since
before any of the other reapers came into existence. It's a part of me, and I
won't give it up."
The petite's eyes went wide and glowed in a succulent brightness as she beheld
her lover and his weapon in awe. She hardly noticed the sound of glass
shattering when her cup of water hit the floor. The weapon was him. Silver,
long, intimidating, beautiful, powerful, brutal, and oddly gentle. She couldn't
help but wonder how much bloodshed the partial skeleton with a large, gently
curved crescent blade jutting out of the back of its thorny crown adorned skull
had seen. Images of him wrapping his long fingers around the single exaggerated
vertebrae that served as the shaft in the same sensual way he does when he
braids her hair made her crave more of him. The hilt finished off as a normal
backbone should, right down to the coccyx, which also left her questioning
whether or not that end had seen the insides of any other beings in the midst
of battle. The Death Scythe was an effigy of a biological weapon, whereas, she
was the reality.
~Oh, Goddess! He's so beautiful! He is Death Incarnate.~
"I love you even more than ever," the reaper's lover replied.
"Then, that should answer your question."
The female held her hand out, preventing the reaper from banishing his scythe.
"Don't," she quietly demanded. "You're so beautiful with your weapon."
Experimental hands slid over the legend's as she adoringly looked him in the
eye. "It's a testament to you, my love."
A wicked grin crossed the mortician's face when without warning he grabbed one
of the girl's hands and whirled her around, pinning her back against his chest
with the shaft of his Death Scythe. "You're so adorable when you squeak,
Lovely," he said with a smirk. The intimidating blade was inches from the
woman's face, but she displayed no fear. A curtain of silver tumbled over the
the petite's shoulder as her lover bent down to whisper sweet words in her ear.
"You are mine, and I will always protect you." He banished the weapon in favor
of holding another.
The snowy destroyer nuzzled her head in her reaper's chest as she looked up and
smiled at him with softly glowing eyes. She moaned as he lightly trailed ebony
talons down her throat. "I love you, Adrian," the tattooed ice purred.
"As I love you, Stella," the silver haired mortician whispered darkly. He
kissed her with an unquenchable passion that she returned in equal measure.
                                    xxxxxx
Unbeknownst to him, he was now within range of her senses. He narrowed his
chartreuse eyes at Undertaker's shop a few streets over, pushing up his glasses
with the end of his Death Scythe.
=I see you in darkness. I feel you.=
A chill ran down the reaper's spine. He felt like he was the one being watched
this time. "Always more overtime for me and never enough pay," the stoic man
grumbled to himself. He shivered slightly as another chill acquainted itself
with his spine.
=I see you in darkness. I feel you.=
The manager brushed off the feeling and leaped off the roof he was currently
occupying and disappeared into the night.
                                    xxxxxx
The experiment watched the mortician stitch up the mangled corpse before him.
It was one of hers. The yard brought him in sometime during her lengthy sleep.
Since she joined with the Yurei completely, the grotesque nature of the deaths
she influenced no longer frightened her. A tiny giggle escaped her lips as the
mortician skillfully reattached the cadaver's severed parts. He plopped the
dead man's eyes in a small jar of formaldehyde and sewed the lids shut, giving
the illusion that the perverted scumbag was peacefully dreaming of youngsters
to traumatize.
"What's so funny, my lady?" Undertaker grinned and giggled into his sleeve.
"Here." He passed the jar with the dead man's shit brown eyes floating inside
to his fair haired lover. "A gift from the deceased. Ehehehehe!"
The petite wiggled the jar, sloshing the liquid inside and watching the
eyeballs bounce off each other, hitting the glass, and back again in random
directions. "See no evil..."
This earned an earthshaking laugh from the madman. "I'm guessing this is your
work." The reaper stepped forward and claimed the lavender lady's lips,
lighting up her blue and green orbs. The mortician's sharp teeth dug into his
favorite spot on her neck, tearing at the tender flesh like a starved animal.
The coppery sweetness of her blood danced on his taste buds as he slowly looped
his tongue around the wound. He was far too engrossed in torturing his lover's
sensitive flesh to notice the petite hands making quick work of the buttons on
his robes until something soft and delicate made the scarred surface of his
abdomen quiver. A devilish smirk hidden by the female's scarlet stained neck
spread across the mortician's lips when he saw the lavender weapon fumble with
the complicated array of fastenings on his leather pants. He darkly chuckled in
her ear. "Now, Lovely," he paused to take a harsh nibble at the shell. "Is this
one of yours, hm?" He let a single onyx talon slowly travel down the length of
the woman's neck, sternum, then spiral over one small breast, and tease her
nipple below the confines of worn black fabric; then he repeated the process on
the other breast, making the petite's skin crawl under the tantalizing torture.
"It's one of mine," the creature confirmed between pleasured moans. Her small
fingers delicately left angry red trails in their wake as they ran down her
lover's pale chest. On impulse, she nibbled at each of the loops in his
nipples, eliciting a feral growl from her lover.
"You like those, don't you?" the reaper purred in a dark, seductive, velvet
voice laced with a hint of sadism. "I can give you a set if you'd like, then I
can play, too. Hehehe."
The female's wide eyes lit up, unsure how to respond. Suddenly, she found
herself in the back room with the legend pinning her against the wall with her
wrists high above her head. His hypnotic double irises stared down into her
glowing mismatched jewels set in obsidian. Insatiable hunger glowed in his
predatory gaze which ignited the secret hunger she only partially shared with
him the first time they made love. "Adrian," the female whimpered. "Neck. Hand.
Wall. Up." It was the best she could do to tell her lover what she wanted so he
could feed her secret hunger.
"What are you on about, love?" the silver haired man questioned.
"Just fucking do it!"
The legendary reaper indulged his Lovely, taking her by the throat and slamming
her against the wall, at which time she promptly wove her legs around his trim
waist. Any worry of harming the petite was quickly thrown out the window once
he got a good look at the lusty glow of her emerald and sapphire eyes. "Oh
Goddess, that felt so..." the petite didn't finish her sentence with words, but
with a return bite to pale flesh above the scar on the reaper's throat. She
could smell trace amounts of wormwood in the blood that trickled out.
~Wormwood.~
Long fingers tipped in black nails threaded themselves into soft lavender, and
with a hard, downward pull, the female cried out his name and ground her hips
against him. He gave a warning growl when he felt her slide her hands beneath
his treasured hat, which she promptly obeyed, and settled for the silver
strands cascading down his back instead. In one swift movement the complicated
fastenings to the black leather virtually painted on the mortician's lower half
were undone. He captured his vicious lavender hybrid in an animalistic kiss as
he rammed her against the wall hard and fast. The experiment basked in the
mixture of sensations her silver love provided: the gentle, sweet touches of
his hands as they caressed her face, the aggressive pulling of her hair to the
point of delighted agony, the trade off of sweet kisses and tender licks for
mischievous nibbles and succulent bites dripping with crimson, and the brutal,
unrelenting power radiating within the hunger driving the legend toward his
deadly climax. She felt a clawed hand grasp her hair, yanking it down harder
than before. She knew he was close, so she rolled her hips at a slightly
different angle and felt an even harder pull to her hair and a set of sharp
teeth clamp down on the crook of her neck unlocking her secret places. Her mind
unconsciously summoned its psychokinetic power, sending random objects flying
in equally random directions as wave after wave of painful pleasure hit her.
The sharp teeth embedded in her skin dug deeper, drawing blood as the reaper
finally succumbed to his passions.
"I love you, Stella," the silver haired man whispered to his lavender love as
he soothed the bite wound on the crook of her neck.
"And I love you, Adrian," the lady replied, kissing the mortician's throat.
"You're beautiful when you're feral."
"And you're lovely when you're vicious."
                                    xxxxxx
In another realm an irritated manager stormed down the hallway gripping his
modified Death Scythe in hidden white knuckle fury. The sound of his black
leather gloves stretching over his hand only served to further fuel his
irritation. A hyperactive redhead came barreling down the pristine, white
hallway toward him at full speed with her junior in tow. The manager was not in
the mood to deal with either of them at all.
"Senpai! Slow down! Spears-senpai looks pissed!" the blond called out to his
senior.
The redhead kept running, purposefully ignoring the younger male. "Will~iam!"
Stiletto heels skittered to a halt and the redhead tumbled to the floor rubbing
what was sure to become a headache later on. "That hurt, Will. You didn't have
to do that," the red clad reaper whined.
"Mr. Sutcliff, I am in no mood for your foolishness," the pruner wielding man
snapped. "Go finish your paperwork. I am tired of putting in overtime because
of you." He turned his hard glare to the blond. "That goes for you too, Mr.
Knox."
The red reaper quickly stood up, cocking a hip. "It's MISS Sutcliff!" the
reaper stated emphatically. "How many times do I have to tell you how to
address a lady by her proper title. Let's go, Ronnie."
The manager lingered, watching his subordinates walk to their respective
offices before he continued to his own. A few hours passed by allowing him to
catch up on some overdue reports. Checking the time, he noticed he had ten
minutes to get to the meeting scheduled with upper management. The unemotional
reaper closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "Why didn't they destroy
that...thing when they had the chance? It's kind are an abomination." He sighed
and gathered the necessary paperwork and field reports required for the meeting
with upper management. As he rode the elevator to the top floor, he could only
hope that they would allow him to destroy that abominable creature.
Chapter End Notes
     The plot thickens. *dun-dun-duuuuunnnn*
***** Violation *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =
     Thanks for stopping by to this glorious gorefest. Yes, there will be
     *graphic* violence and dismemberment. A homophobic remark appears,
     but keep in mind the context of the story. A slight mention of
     necrophilia is contained within. **Consider yourself warned.**
     Don't worry, I bring relief with erotic yuri. Buuut, if you don't
     like girl x girl, sorry. **You have been warned.**
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The hybrid was in their head now. Her eerie blackened eyes were hollow pits in
her pale, bloody face. Disheveled lavender hair hung about her shoulders while
small clumps lay spread out around her feet. She clung to the front of her
long, black dress-the only suitable article of clothing she owned-in an angry
attempt to preserve what modesty she could after the front had been ripped
beyond repair. Her initial disbelief that teenagers were capable of such crimes
as rape and murder quickly turned to fury.
~I just wanted to eat in peace. The drunks in the pub were more respectful than
these...things.~
All six of the thugs were pinned to the wall by the Rarity's sheer willpower.
Her obsidian eyes scanned each boy, finally settling on the tallest: a lanky
blond with cropped curly hair and green eyes. He had the distinct appearance of
a nobleman, as did the rest of the rotten scoundrels he tagged along with. The
experiment's soft, airy voice rang out in all six boys' subconscious minds,
freezing them in the fear she was engineered to elicit from her victims.
~All of you are filth. Each filthier than the last. I'm starting with you.~
The blond she was focusing on was unpinned from his place on the wall and hit
the concrete with a dull thud. He was too terrified to run even though he had a
chance.
~Each of you must learn from the other what the wages of sin are.~
The other five boys squirmed in a desperate attempt to free themselves, but
found it completely useless against her power. One boy made a sour face when
the smell of urine wafted in his direction.
"What the hell? We were just messing around!" the curly blond fearfully
reasoned.
~Is that the same thing the preacher told you after his 'private' Sunday school
tutoring with you? How much did you like it when his leather belt whacked you
across your little bum when you were a 'bad boy', hm?~
The other five boys pinned to the wall talked amongst themselves in hushed
whispers as they witnessed their friend's undoing. Most of the conversation
consisted of mocking their friend's secret he kept hidden from them since
boyhood. Even as the remaining boys feared for their lives, they wondered if
their broken friend lying prostrate below at the female's feet went on secret
trysts with those of the more masculine variety. Soft snickers circulated from
the group, which were quickly silenced by their secretly violated friend's ear
piercing whine.
"But, I didn't do anything wrong!" the boy sobbed. He rose to his knees, facing
the expressionless woman as his hand worked on his own to pick up a discarded
glass bottle. "P-please, miss, I-I was just tagging along. I-I wasn't going to
do anything to you, I swear! I don't even like women like that!" he admitted.
"Did you hear that? He's a faggot!" one of the pinned boys hissed, confirming
all of their suspicions.
~That matters not to me, boy. Tag-alongs are just as cruel as their leaders,
and deserve to be silenced as well. Don't you want the silence to envelope you
now that your little friends know your secret? Look at them up there laughing
at you. Do you crave the silence? You know what to do. Break it in half.~
The curly blond numbly followed the orders set forth by the soft, airy voice in
his head and broke the bottle in half. Through a shameful haze of guilty
sadness he hesitantly pointed the sharp, jagged edges of the bottle to his
throat.
~Yes, that's it.~ The voice encouraged from deep within. ~You are your own
enemy. Liar, let the silence embrace you.~
Somehow, understanding what the voice in his head meant, the tall, curly haired
blond rammed the object into his throat as hard as he could and twisted it
clockwise then counterclockwise over and over again, severing his windpipe and
several arteries. Blood spurted from his mouth as he fell on his face to die
with half a bottle jutting out of his pitiful neck.
~Now then, you three.~
The experiment unpinned a set of identically dressed ginger triplets.
Expressionless black pits scanned each boy. The one in the middle wet his pants
in abject horror as he gazed at the hellish being staring up at him. How
something this small could literally scare the piss out of him was beyond his
comprehension, but apparently here he was with pants full of fresh piss.
Instantly, he regretted his foray into depravity as he caught sight of the rest
of the girl's features. She was so delicate aside from the eyes.
~All of you are spoiled rotten pieces of shit. And you, the one reeking of
piss, last minute regrets mean nothing to me. I show no mercy. I am especially
merciless to puppy killers.~
The braver-or more foolish-of the three snickered. "Who cares? It's just a dumb
animal."
~Perhaps you're the dumb ones for getting mixed up in things you shouldn't
have. That whose power you craved did not require the wanton slaughter of your
family's gifts to you. She requires no living sacrifices, especially that of
Her sacred animal. Do your parents know that you go to church with them each
Sunday to serve their Master while at the same time, you sneak off to serve my
Mistress under false pretenses?~
The soft, airy voice challenged the triplets, knowing they knew nothing of her
faith save for what occultists thought they knew, and even they lacked adequate
knowledge. She despised people who twisted her religion into falsehoods and
teenagers who used it as an excuse to rebel against a society strictly bound by
a Christian moral code. None of the triplets could offer a word to excuse
themselves for what they had done.
~You will be rewarded justly for your willing sacrifices.~
The triplets sighed in relief believing the lavender haired woman would allow
them to leave with just a stern yet cryptic warning. After all, in their minds
it was just a cruel rebellious phase they were going through. They chattered
quietly amongst themselves wondering why they hadn't the ability to exit the
alley behind the pub when a low growl was heard from the shadows. The triplets
and two remaining boys pinned against the wall quickly fell silent as the sound
increased in volume.
~Self sacrifice is a virtue, is it not? Go, in the darkness, perhaps you may
find the light.~
The spoiled boys filled with regret willingly walked to their deaths with open
arms. Sobbing, pained wailing, broken apologies mixed with the sound of
snarling growls and tearing flesh was all that was heard from the pitch black
shadows. A severed arm and dismembered foot still housed in its brown heeled
loafer bounced out of the shadows with a wet plop.
The last two boys were released from the wall. Both of them were best friends
and the ringleaders of the attempted depravity. The stale stench of urine was
coming from the brunette on the right. The brunette on the left remained stoic
and appeared to be more accepting of his fate after witnessing the deaths of
his four friends. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and secured by a
baby blue ribbon while his foul smelling companion on the right had close
cropped brown hair.
~What to do with you two. What to do. What to do.~ The soft, airy voice taunted
as it swirled in the two teen rapists' heads with malice.
"Are you a witch?" the long haired boy asked.
"Are you a d-demon?" the short haired boy stuttered.
The female glared black daggers at one boy in particular. The hatred grew
exponentially for both of them with each passing moment, especially the foul
smelling boy.
"You're obviously not an angel," the long haired boy scoffed.
~Obviously not, but I can kill them without mercy, just like how you killed
your mother.~
The pony tailed brunette's eyes widened in shock. "H-how-"
"Are you one of those grim reapers, then?" his friend interjected.
The question set the experiment's rage into motion. ~No, but I do know some of
their secrets.~
"Like what?"
~Those I won't disclose, unlike the one you've been harboring for years now,
you corpse fucking piece of shit!~
"Huh?"
The soft, airy voice the teenage wastes of nobility were used to having inside
their heads grew dark, malignant, and disturbingly sensual as it sunk it
merciless claws into their deepest subconscious minds, digging out their
secrets for all to see.
~Both of you are abominations. You! With that girly bow in your hair! You are
such a hypocrite! Pretending to care about your dead mother that you killed in
cold blood! She never wronged you, never provoked you, and never hurt you in
any way. She protected you from your insolent father, but you killed her
anyway. You shouldn't wait to go to Hell to taste its flames.~
The long haired brunette's stoic demeanor vanished in favor of resentful
sadness. "What would you know of loss?" The boy's brown eyes landed on a gas
lamp.
~It burns. It burns like hellfire.~
The boy with the pony tail didn't know how he had done it, but somehow he
managed to get the contents of the burning gas lamp all over himself and feel
the burning pain of loss the creature spoke of. Perhaps she was willing it,
perhaps she wasn't, but the flames grew more intense as they consumed him. His
body burned, his skin began peeling back from muscles as they contracted
causing him to fall to the ground in a burning heap. His tearful friend was all
that remained, and his pants were once again stinking of urine after witnessing
a live human roasting.
~I lied.~ The prototype's voice suddenly broke the deathly still silence in the
necrophiliac's subconscious.
"A-about w-what?" the immoral brat stammered.
~I will disclose one secret about grim reapers for you. I belong to one.~
"Then, w-what does that make you?" the frightened boy stammered.
~No one. Now, take out the knife you were going to use on me.~
The brunette obeyed. "I'm sorry, miss. Please..." His hands started unbuttoning
his trousers. He didn't understand why the lady in black was so arousing even
after watching his friends kill themselves. Perhaps it was the way her
malicious, seductive voice sliced through his brain.
~You are not a gentleman of standing order. You are immoral, unclean,
repulsive, filthy, and vile. You desecrating bastard! Remove yourself! All of
it!~
The necrophiliac teen blindly removed everything that separated him from the
fairer sex. Pained tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Miss, I'm so
sorry."
~No, you're just sorry that you got caught by the wrong person.~
The boy's eyes widened as he fell to the ground. Regretful tears streamed down
his face as he laid on his side bleeding out from between his legs. Horror
froze in his hazel eyes as the petite made a final demand from him.
~Eat.~
                                    xxxxxx
The lavender haired woman picked up the pieces of herself from behind the pub
and made the trek back to the shop.
~This is what I get for being so small.~
She sensed something unpleasant from within the shop as she approached the
front door.
~Demon.~
Another presence was with it, two actually. A contract holder and
~Red Death~
a reaper. The combination's mismatched afterglow faded as she vanished from the
street into her room above Undertaker's shop. She sat quietly, daring not to
move for fear of being detected by the three guests downstairs. She put her
head between her knees and tried to listen to the conversation below, but
drifted off into an odd slumber instead.
                                    xxxxxx
It was one of the rare days where the heights of spring and winter could laugh
together and enjoy the illusion of freedom from the confines of the lab. The
two young women giggled as they ran barefoot across plush, green grass. They
collapsed into each other's arms beyond a grassy knoll in their secret place,
smiling and gazing longingly into each other's blue and green eyes beneath an
old willow tree.
"Stella, I love you," the green experiment declared, blushing a pretty pink in
contrast to her thick green curls.
"I know, Mae, and I love you, too," the other female replied, pulling her into
a loving embrace. "I've missed you since they've turned us into these things.
We don't see each other as much anymore."
"There's talk of destroying you. You're the prototype, and they think you're a
threat because you're too powerful. They didn't need to fuse-"
The lavender haired woman placed a finger over her lover's lips. "Let's not
talk of such things, Mae. Let's enjoy our illusory freedom while we can." Her
finger was replaced by soft lips. Having read her lover's mind, the green
Rarity opened her mouth allowing the kiss to lose its innocence. Reaching
beyond a thin veil of white cotton, the winter weapon's petite hands tenderly
swept over spring's ivory contours. The two experiments shared an intimate kiss
as their fingers explored each other. Both women had the same obsession, but
only one had a secret hunger that she couldn't bring herself to share with her
lady love. Not here, not in this place.
~Maybe, one day...when we're finally free, I'll let her in on the secret and we
shall dine like queens...~
Icy kisses rained down upon the green haired petite's neck and down the length
of her slender body, then back up again. The lavender winter took her sweet
time teasing the other woman at her mercy with little bites and nibbles on
perfectly molded breasts before finally getting to the pink nubs craving her
attention. "Stella," the pleasured woman whimpered.
"I know what you want, Mae," the experiment breathed. "But are you sure you
want to do this?"
"I've done it to you."
"It's a two way street between us. Are you sure you want me to do it to you?"
"Stella, please..." The slightly younger Rarity grabbed her lover's hand and
placed it between her legs while pulling her closer at the same time. "I want
this. I want you. More than anything."
The lavender haired woman smiled and kissed her lover in unbridled passion
while gently laying her on her back in the plush grass. Neither female knew
where their cotton gowns were, nor did they care. All they cared about was the
euphoria they were taking refuge in at that moment. The coldest winter month
tasted the sweetness of spring in her mouth while enjoying the hidden treasure
within her divide. The green haired woman sank her fingers into lavender
tresses, feeding said woman's obsession, as her secret places were unlocked.
Her gluttonous lover was unrelenting in her hunger and didn't stop until all of
her lover's secrets were spilled in her name.
Both women laid exhausted in each other's arms. "I love you, Mae," the lavender
haired woman whispered.
"Stella, promise me that if they destroy me, you'll find love again," spring
weaponry pleaded.
The lavender weapon looked at her fellow weapon in disbelief. "What are you
saying, Mae? I love only you! Besides, who's to say I'd be able to escape,
anyway?"
The green haired experiment nuzzled her head into her companion's neck.
"Stella, you know how powerful you are. You can escape." She paused to look the
other woman in her mismatched eyes while drawing random patterns on her small
breasts. "Do it for Marcus," she continued. "He'd want you to. He tried so hard
to protect us. His friend, the pretty one, remember, let him take us away."
"The pretty one? Yeah, I do remember Marcus defecting in his own way to care
for us...and he was killed for it by his own kind..." the winter weapon trailed
off.
"Promise me you'll love again should you survive, and I'll do the same should
I. Can you do that for me, please?" the spring weapon pleaded once more.
                                    xxxxxx
While the product of eugenics bitterly slumbered upstairs, her lover talked in
riddles about the 'suspicious suicides' plaguing London with the trio she
sensed downstairs in the shop. The child-a noble, judging by the way he spoke-
was in charge of the case. Earl, Ciel Phantomhive was what she had heard him
introduce himself as when he spoke of his status. The butler with whom he was
in the care of was the contractor,
~Demon~
Sebastian Michaelis. She had already sensed the red reaper before any of them
since the other part of herself knew her well.
=Grell Sutcliff, why you throw yourself at Michaelis, I shall never know. My
lady, though we had our moments, I am her and she is me. She holds a grudge as
ice preserves the dead. Her love is my love. Her hate is my hate. We are one.=
~Red Death, I will know what you know.~
The Earl and his demon butler were at a loss at the mortician's cryptic
responses to their inquiries. They had paid the price of prime laughter in
exchange for his information, but the vow of protecting the experiment
outweighed his duty as the Phantomhive family's informant. The silver haired
man knew the demon knew more than he was letting on, but was electing to hide
it from his master anyway. He had a habit of doing this just so he could get
under his meal's skin for his own amusement.
"Come, Sebastian," the noble ordered. "This has been a waste of time."
The butler assisted the boy with his coat and hat. "Yes, my lord," he said
bowing with his arm crossed over his chest.
"I'll be back for more information should the occasion arise, Undertaker," the
young Earl stated gruffly. He swiped his cane from the demon's outstretched
hand and marched toward the door.
"My lord," the mortician began, stopping the noble in the doorway. "Do take
care of your soul. Hehehe."
The young noble glared at the smiling mortician with his uncovered blue eye.
"Yes, yes, I know!" he barked. With that, he turned on his heel and exited the
shop accompanied by an amused butler.
"Grell, milady, you're not going to chase after Sebastian?"
The redhead broke from her dazed thoughts. "What was that you said, Unnie?"
The silver reaper giggled into his sleeve. "My lady, you've been staring into
space for several minutes. The demon and his young lord have already departed."
"Oh," the redhead replied, still in a daze. "It just felt like something was
sifting through my head. I-I'm not sure." The reaper suddenly snapped out of
her daze and returned to her perky self. "Well, darling, I have to go before
Will beats me over the head with that rotten Death Scythe of his. Oh! That
reminds me. He's been lurking around your shop a lot lately. I haven't the
foggiest idea why. Toodles!"
The legend's eyes darkened with rage as the red reaper bounded out of his shop
into the twilight lit streets. He locked the doors behind her as soon as she
was out of sight. His anger softened when he saw the sleeping beauty curled on
the floor in a fetal position only to be exponentially reignited when he saw
her condition upon closer inspection. The bruises cuts, torn out hair, and
ripped dress made his blood boil. He removed his hat and outer layers of
clothing and scooped the sleeping girl off the floor into bed. He laid beside
her, wrapping the petite form in his protective embrace. The reaper placed a
quick, tender kiss on the tattooed woman's lips and held her closer. "I love
you so much."
*I will find who did this to you and kill them.*
=You needn't worry. They're dead already, my love.=
*You're...*
=I am her. She is me. We are one. I feel what she feels. I know what she knows.
Her hate is my hate. Her love is my love. As you have claimed her, you have
also claimed me. She knows what you know. I know what she doesn't. She is
light. I am the unnecessary shadows hidden in the secret places that the
Goddess left long forgotten. She chose you because of me. Now we are one. I
love you as she does.=
*And I'll love you as I love her.*
Chapter End Notes
     The inner zealot is coming out in my OC.
***** Plans *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =
     Thanks to all who enjoy my fun little tale, it's very much
     appreciated.
     Eric and Alan fans, your wait is over.
     January/Stella refers to kinky sex as playtime. She has a hatred for
     the word kink which will be revealed much later in the future.
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The black haired reaper's eyebrow twitched with decades of pent up rage, his
mouth forced in a straight line to hold back the disgusted sneer he so
desperately wanted to display, but he couldn't do that. As a manager, he had to
set an example for his subordinates, and further fueling the fire of his stress
was the intense scrutiny he was under from upper management, therefore, open
displays of emotion were completely unprofessional and in poor taste. He was
absolutely infuriated that the meeting would not go his way at all. He just
knew it, judging by the huge pit in his stomach that grew as the minutes
dragged on during the useless meeting. Upper management wanted that perverse
freak of nature alive in exchange for his former mentor's death or else he,
William T. Spears, would be considered a defector. In the Dispatch manager's
mind, that thing made Grell Sutcliff out to be perfectly normal by comparison,
which greatly disturbed him.
"Sirs," the manager formally addressed his superiors. "I must object to this
proposal. Surely, you must be aware that the Empath scientists who fused this
thing-"
"It's a Rarity, Mr. Spears. You should be aware of what they are," a male with
wavy, shoulder length, gray hair corrected in a sharp tone. "Proceed, but do so
with more tact."
"Yes, sir. You must be aware of the end result of the Rarity and Yurei being
fused together and the threat it poses to us. Why do you want it alive and Mr.
Crevan dead after all he's done for us?"
A second high ranking reaper who looked like a broad, muscular version of the
legend shook his head at the Dispatch manager, his long, black pony tail
swaying back and forth from the crown of his head as he spoke. "Don't be
sentimental, Spears. We are all very well aware of Mr. Crevan's service, but he
is a deserter. He's also the most powerful of our kind, which poses a threat to
us, and therefore, he must be executed."
The younger reaper was furious at his superiors' nonchalant way of handling the
issue of one of their own's life. "Sir, that makes no sense!" the normally
stoic reaper vehemently objected. He rose to his feet and slammed his hands on
the table as if he were the one addressing his subordinates, not the other way
around. "We're killing our own kind-a legend-in favor of some failed eugenics
project built for a war that never happened!" He glared toxic green daggers at
his bosses. "Why that thing over him?"
"Sit down, Mr. Spears!" the gray haired reaper shouted. "The Rarity can get
inside the subconscious, whereas Crevan cannot, which will make eradication of
troublesome demons much easier for us."
"You're too nice, Hesse," the other manager stated coolly. "It's a weapon, the
ultimate weapon, the Prototype. Everyone knows Rarities don't exist anymore."
The gray haired manager gave his cohort a side glare as he continued his
decree. "Besides, with Mr. Crevan having deserted, which is punishable by death
in certain circumstances, we'll condemn him to just that simply based on his
power alone."
The raven haired manager inwardly smirked. He hoped that maybe what he was
about to say would help his idol. "What if I told you that he claimed it?"
"Are you serious?" the pony tailed reaper exclaimed. "We cannot have two beings
that volatile with highly destructive power running around!"
"May I remind you that Rarities are born sterile and so are we, Crevan
especially," the other manager chided.
"I don't give a damn if they're both sterile, Hesse, the point is they are
together!" The man with the pony tail turned his attention back to the lower
ranking manager. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir. I have kept a steady watch on the couple since it wound up there and
never left. Indeed it was claimed by Mr. Crevan. Out of all of our kind, he is
the most possessive and he will not hesitate to kill to protect his mate."
The gray haired reaper rubbed his chin in thought. "Well now, that certainly
does complicate things, doesn't it, Mr. Spears?"
                                    xxxxxx
Battered winter awakened nestled in the silver reaper's protective embrace. By
force of habit, she watched the scarred flesh of his left eyelid ripple in
tandem with the fluid movements of his feathered silver eyelashes in restless
dreams. Her fingers unconsciously moved to her lover's lips
~Like I did with Mae so many years ago.~
and lightly grazed over them, forever enchanted by the ever so slight upturned
corners. On their own frozen accord, icy hands tenderly slid across the
reaper's smooth, pale cheek, coming to rest on his jawline. She watched his
eyes flutter about in REM a moment longer, feeling an intense warmness because
she knew he was dreaming of her. With that in mind, she cupped the legendary
beauty's face in her delicate, bloodied hands, and softly pressed her lips to
his, subtly licking and biting his bottom lip before pulling away with crimson
staining her porcelain cheeks.
"Mornin', Lovely," mumbled a sleepy mortician.
"It's not morning yet."
The mortician cracked open an eye. "So it isn't." He scrutinized his mate's
torn dress and disheveled appearance with sympathetic eyes. "Oh, my Lovely," he
sighed. "Let's get you cleaned up." He kissed her forehead, earning a giddy
laugh from the lady. That little sentence, ever since that day, has always had
a way of making her feel giddy and he knew it. "You're a peculiar one, Lovely,
but that's what I love about you."
"I know," the female blushed and nuzzled her face into the reaper's hair. "Your
hair is so soft, Adrian, I could use it as a blanket."
"You have." A knowing grin spread over the silver haired man's face. "It was
awkward, yet endearing, but most of all beautiful. You looked so precious."
"I didn't know I did that. I'm glad your hair is as long as it is and I'm as
small as I am or I could have hurt you if I had a nightmare." The Rarity looked
at her lover with a twinge of guilt in her glowing eyes.
"No, you were actually quite peaceful," he replied with a tender kiss. "Your
eyes are glowing."
"So are yours."
"Come, Lovely, let's get you cleaned up." He smiled as she blushed at those
seven little words.
                                    xxxxxx
The experiment shed her torn dress and stepped into the bath, allowing the
searing heat of the water to penetrate her skin. She gradually submerged into
the hot water until the only visible part of her on the surface was tangled
lavender swirls. The angry contrast watched from below as dried blood mingled
with the lavender tendrils floating overhead.
~I am you.~
=I am you.=
~You are me.~
=You are me.=
~We are one.~
=We are one.=
~Does he love you?~
=Just as he loves you?=
~Does he love me ?~
=He will always love you.=
~And if loves me, but stops loving you?~
=If he loves you, he loves me. If he stops loving you, he stops loving me. The
bond between us and him will be severed.=
The familiar sensation of long nails gently tugging lavender strands roused the
tattooed petite from her thoughts. She rose from beneath the surface of the
considerably cooler water as fair hair stuck to fair skin in wet clumps. The
soft glow of her eyes became more intense each time the mortician's nails
scratched the surface of her skin. A fan of lavender spread over most of the
petite form still submerged in the water, bobbing and swirling at each jolt of
pleasure she partook in her lover's touch. "Mmmm...Adrian..." The experiment
bit her lip to keep from crying out when the reaper decided to lick the side of
her neck in his tantalizingly slow way he so often tortured her with when he
decided it was playtime. The delightful warmth flooded her senses with the
reaper's sensual assault on her flesh. "Oh Goddess, Adrian. I-I..."
"You what, Lovely?" the reaper inquired mischievously. "Hm." Mirth and lust
danced in his acidic eyes as he turned the woman around to face him. "What do
you want, Lovely?"
"You," the female breathed. "Make love to me." Her mismatched eyes shone like
bright stars in the night sky as the mortician's hypnotic eyes met hers.
"Perhaps I can arrange that," he responded in a low, velvet voice as dark as
the backdrop surrounding her glowing irises. The lusty glow intensified in the
reaper's eyes as he grinned. "You know I'm always more than happy to oblige,
milady. Hehehe." For a moment the pair stared into each other's illuminated
eyes when the reaper finally captured the experimental beauty's lips in a
hungry, lust fueled kiss. "Anytime, Lovely," he whispered. "Anything for you."
                                    xxxxxx
"Agents Slingby and Humphries, you will also be tasked with finding 'The
Prototype' along with Agents Sutcliff and Knox," the black haired reaper
ordered. "I have met with upper management, and much to my dismay, they have
ordered us to bring it back alive. Additionally, we are to bring back
Undertaker to be tried and sentenced to death."
"Will!" The flamboyant redhead's eyes were wide with shock. "This-this..." She
stamped her stiletto boot on the ground indignantly. "But, why? You must be
joking! I simply cannot believe-"
"Sutcliff!" The stone faced manager snapped. "I do not joke! Furthermore, you
will refrain from childish outbursts or I will demote you. Do I make myself
clear?"
The feminine reaper crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her boss. The
unspoken bond between the two since that day was all the answer he needed, so
he continued the debriefing. "Each of you has a file containing the mission we
are undertaking. This is highly classified and to be discussed with no one save
for ourselves. I will be making necessary reports to upper management as
required. Proceed with extreme caution. Undertaker has claimed this science
project he calls a woman as his mate. Does anyone have any questions before we
begin our new assignment?"
A tall, rugged blond with cornrows braided on one side of his head skimmed
through his file. "Aye, Mr. Spears, the files say we're supposed to work alone.
Suppose Alan has an attack while he's on the field?"
"I'll make an exception for the two of you to remain paired on account of his
health. Does that relieve your concern, Mr. Slingby? And you, Mr. Humphries?"
"Aye, that it does. Thank ya, Mr. Spears."
"Yes, sir, thank you," the Thorn infected reaper chimed in.
The emotionless manager gave a curt nod in response, then turned his attention
to the red reaper and her trainee. His eyebrow twitched in irritation at the
look on her face. The look of anger, disbelief, and betrayal glared at him from
her toxic, catlike eyes. The irritated man swallowed the urge to kill the
redhead as he pushed his glasses up with his Death Scythe. "Since Knox is still
a trainee, the two of you will have to remain paired, Mr. Sutcliff. Are there
any further questions?"
Before the effeminate reaper could go off on another fruitless tangent about
being addressed improperly, her subordinate spoke up. "Spears-senpai, if we
need to know something that's not in the file, what do we do?"
"Ask me," the manager replied coldly. "Or if I'm unavailable, ask Mr. Sutcliff.
He was also present."
The young blond looked at his red superior in disbelief. "S-senpai?"
"I wanted no part of this," the red reaper growled. "You knew I was roped into
it against my will. Sir!" Tears of pent up emotional trauma and regret were on
the verge of spilling. "It was either that or termination and banishment to a
place I will not mention in front of anyone." She could no longer hold back the
past emotional pain, so she turned on her heel and stalked off to her office
where she could let it flow freely from her toxic green eyes. Red Death didn't
care about being formally dismissed by the boss, but she did care about looking
weak in front of her fellow reapers. She already had a reputation for being
unstable, and she wasn't about to add being a crybaby on top of it. She much
rather preferred being seen as a bloodthirsty homicidal maniac over being seen
as a sobbing weakling. Truthfully, she preferred to be seen as neither of the
two, but as the passionate lady she is. Sure, she gave in to homicidal rages at
times, and sure she could tear apart certain people with her bare hands, but
she had feelings too. Red Death wasn't just all about blood, men, and makeup.
A soft knock accompanied by a concerned trainee's voice interrupted Grell's
sobbing. "Senpai?"
"What is it, Ronnie?" the redhead sniffled. She retrieved a compact from a desk
drawer and quickly began fixing her makeup.
"I don't think what they're telling us to do is right," the dual colored reaper
said in an uncharacteristically somber tone.
"Neither do I, Ronnie," the feminine reaper sighed.
"I'm surprised to see Spears-senpai willingly go along with anything that
would..." The two toned reaper paused to gather his thoughts. "I guess what I'm
trying to say is, I'm surprised that he's ok with letting 'Taker die. He
fucking worships 'Taker, senpai! I'm willing to bet that he probably carries
around something of his everywhere he goes and doesn't tell anyone, or that he
has some secret shrine to him in his apartment."
"Worship is too strong of a word, dear," the reaper in red pointed out. "But it
is true that Willy does idolize that gorgeous old loon quite a bit, however, he
despises January a lot more."
"January?" The blond reaper made a sour face expressing his confusion.
"Yes, Ronnie, that's her name. 'The Prototype' is a female, not an it; a woman,
not an object as the files claim." The red reaper tapped the file folder with
the blunt end of an eyeliner pencil to add emphasis. "There's something else
you won't find in there." She bit her lip to hold back tears.
"What's that, senpai?" The young reaper studied his superior with curious
concern.
"I bore witness to the most humiliating death anyone could ever be dealt, and
to top it off, I had to reap the poor girl. Her name was May and she was
January's lover." Red Death checked her makeup one last time. "I only worked
collections. I didn't do anything more while all that hideous experimentation
was going on, so don't ask."
"Ok, senpai," the younger complied. "So, when you say 'lover', are you saying
she and that other lady were the same as how she is with 'Taker?"
Red Death nodded. "It was the real thing between the two women. Look, I
normally don't care when people get killed, but this is wrong. I don't give a
shit about protocol. I'm not letting Unnie die for no reason, and I'm not going
to let that poor girl get dragged back here to be tortured and used like she
has been her whole life."
"I'm with ya, senpai. Say, I think I know why you're so bent on helping this
girl," the two tone haired reaper realized. "I'll keep it to myself though."
"Perceptive as always, Knox," the redhead grumbled.
                                    xxxxxx
A new black dress was waiting for the experiment when she woke up the following
afternoon. It was a close copy of her old one, except this new one was of
superior quality and matched all of her specifications right down to the hint
of red lace trim, single layer of skirting, and high collar without all the
frills and poufy sleeves of her old dress. The fabric was black brocade-
something she always adored, but could never have-and thick enough to where she
could easily get away with forgoing the stays she despised. It's not like she
had enough up top to necessitate the use for them anyway, but they were fun for
playtime with the mortician, especially when she tied him up and left him in
the coffin for an hour or two. The dress was simple, elegant, and had its own
hidden exoticism.
~He knows...Somehow, he always knows.~
The petite gathered the dress and absconded to the bathroom, stopping in front
of the vanity to admire her reflection. Nothing had changed since the fruition
of the eugenics project except for her eyes, other than that, all outward
appearances were as they should be. Her mind was what changed the most as she
felt her power growing to a phenomenally higher level. Her love for the silver
haired mortician that took her in that night had only grown stronger and
continued to do so each day. Instinctively, her small fingers traced the scar
on her neck from the night he claimed her. The scar only became more noticeable
each time he revisited that favorite spot of his. A wellspring of warmth
flooded her body and the glow of her eyes became bright against the darkness
they rested in. She smiled to herself as she got dressed for the day, not
noticing a certain dressmaker had been watching her from the shadows.
"My, my, you certainly are a lovely one," a familiar giggle echoed from the
shadows of the dimly lit bathroom.
Two strong arms snatched the female from her spot in front of the mirror in a
silver and black blur. She found herself in the mortician's lap before she
could regain her senses. "You ass! You took my spot!" she protested playfully.
The mortician giggled and wrapped his long arms tighter around his lover's
waist. She shifted positions so she could look him in the eye. "Your eyes truly
are enchanting, Stella." The Rarity blushed as he began braiding a lock of her
hair. To him, she was a goddess and was deserving of that kind of veneration.
Today felt like it should be an elegant day for his lady love, so he delicately
wove spider lilies he seemingly pulled out of nowhere into the lavender crown
atop her head. She looked regal and intimidating, which made the reaper's mind
drift to a certain unsated hunger. "How do you like it, my lady?" he asked as
he turned her forward to admire her reflection. A choked moan was barely
suppressed when ebony talons grazed the experiment's neck, resulting in her
grinding her backside against the mortician. "Now, now, Lovely, you know it's
not nice to tease," he chided in his seductive, velvet voice.
"Who's teasing who?" the female whispered, grabbing the thin cord of silver
between her fingers to use as leverage in her devious plan. She glanced at the
work of art the legend bestowed upon her and smiled. "It's beautiful," she
complimented with devious glowing eyes. Delicate fingers twirled the woven
silver silk around until her lips brushed against her lover's. "You always make
me beautiful, Adrian."
"I can't make you into something you already are, Stella. I'm but a humble
mortician, and you are my Lovely who just happens to appreciate my work." He
kissed her with tender passion.
"I really love this dress, too. It's a perfect fit and everything I've wished
my dresses to be. Wherever did you find an item such as this, my love?" the
experiment inquired with excited light emanating from her blue and green orbs.
The reaper's trademark grin spread across his face. "Hehehe. Those measurements
I took of you weren't just for your own custom coffin, my dear." He pulled the
small woman closer to him, trailing the length of her neck with a single black
talon. Despite the thicker fabric, she could still feel the all too familiar
delightful sensation. "I made it for you, my lovely lady."
Winter smiled down at the legend. "You remembered all my rants about female
trappings! Thank you so much, Adrian! I lo-"
The mortician cut her off with a hungry kiss. The prototype reciprocated,
parting her lips to deepen the kiss. She raked her fingers through his silver
mane, moaning into the kiss as she indulged in her obsession. The reaper
growled when he heard his treasured hat hit the floor, which earned him a sharp
bite on the tongue to keep him in line. The coppery sweet taste of blood
allowed her to win dominance over him, which only made him hungrier for her.
*What is it that keeps her from tearing down that one wall?*
The icy weapon wrapped her arms around the silver legend, allowing them to get
lost in the waterfall of silver tumbling down his back while he made a home for
his fingers in her lavender tresses. With his arm secured around the petite's
waist, he pulled her tightly against him in their kiss that they reserve only
for themselves. When they finally broke apart staring into each other's glowing
eyes with eerie grins on their faces, both of them spoke with their eyes words
their mouths need not say.
~You are my greatest gift.~
*And you are mine.*
"Adrian?"
"Hm."
"Don't stop doing my hair. You always make me so beautiful." The weaponized
hybrid looked at her reaper with loving light in her sky and grass eyes.
"Hehe. Anything for you, Lovely," he replied with a gentle kiss.
                                    xxxxxx
Four reapers were on a stakeout in rotating shifts. Right now, it was shift
change. A tall Scotsman and his not so secret, terminally ill, petite lover
were about to head back to Dispatch in place of a flamboyant redhead and her
junior officer, a blond and black haired young man flying in on a lawnmower
from a portal he created to the mortal realm. The young trainee harbored a
fantasy to take his senpai out on a hot date of roof surfing on his lawnmower,
but he knew it was a pipe dream, so he kept it to himself. A reaper can dream,
can't he?
"Hi, Grell, Ron," the mousy haired reaper greeted. "It's nice to see that
you're all here on time. Not to be rude or anything, but I really don't feel
like doing any overtime today."
"Yeah, yeah," the lawnmower wielder said casually, clapping a hand on the
shorter reaper's back. "We understand with the Thorns and all, so ya better get
home."
The red clad reaper adjusted the chainsaw over her shoulder. "Ronnie and I went
over the files before we left," she stated without her usual dramatic flair.
She took the chainsaw off her shoulder and none too gently allowed the tip of
the blade to rest on the tiled roof. As always when she meant business, she
flicked her wrist slightly, rotating the machine in case anyone wanted to give
her reason to fly into a homicidal rage. She leaned on her chainsaw slightly
and flipped her red hair over her shoulder with a menacing grin. The other
three reapers fell silent at the red reaper's too casual pose and menacing
grin. She was pissed with a capital pissed, and only her subordinate knew why.
Nevertheless, no one there wanted to be on the business end of her Death
Scythe. "As William said in our little debriefing, I had the great displeasure
of having to work collections during that whole...event," the redhead dripped
venom into each word as they spilled from her mouth. "Does anyone have any
questions?"
The tall man with a hacksaw looked deep in thought for a moment, then
questioned his red peer about why Undertaker would take the experiment as a
mate, to which the reply was a huffy rant about how Undertaker's personal life
was none of his business. While the redhead was chastising the Scotsman for
prying into the mortician's personal affairs, the Thorn infected reaper
informed his blond coworker of six corpses that were brought into the morgue
earlier that day.
The redhead crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the tiled roof. "Does
anyone have any relevant questions? If not, you can go home." Receiving no
response, she dismissed the day shift and waited until their portal home was
completely sealed before she began to formulate her plan.
"It took them long enough, senpai," the younger said, sighing in relief.
"I know. They had no business digging into Undertaker's personal life like
that! How rude!" the feminine reaper snapped.
"Whoa! Calm down, Grell-senpai, I'm on your side, remember." The dual colored
man held his hands up in surrender. "Al told me that he saw six bodies get
delivered to 'Taker's shop today."
"Together or separate?" asked an intrigued red reaper.
"Together. All of them were teenage boys, all of them were 'suspicious
suicides', which means January is the one manipulating the deaths. What do we
do, senpai?"
"First, we warn Unnie of upper management's plans. Then, we'll pretend we
didn't see anything. You're good at playing dumb, aren't you?" Red Death's
razor sharp grin was fully exposed and eerily beautiful in its cunning
intimidation.
Chapter End Notes
     fun fact: corsets are also known as "stays"
***** Bodies *****
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for the reads. It's much appreciated.
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
     Mentions of necrophilia are contained within this chapter as well as
     cannibalism. Not for the squeamish. ***You have been warned.***
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The weapon's cynical laughter filled the air as she listened to the mortician
chastise the half dozen teenage guests in the morgue. A knowing glow lit up her
eyes as more laughter pealed out of her. The silver haired man was glad that
she was no longer afraid of watching him work. In fact, she looked forward to
it if it meant being by his side unless it was one of the several holy days she
was obligated to observe. He admired her conviction even if it cost precious
time spent with her. Nevertheless, he was still happy that she was here to keep
him company while he worked. Corpses don't talk back, she does; the dead don't
really appreciate his artistry, she does, and she shows it, too.
*It's her enchanting eyes. Heehee.*
Three of the rude guests looked as though they had flung themselves into a pit
of wild dogs. Various extremities were dismembered, including a foot still
housed in its shoe. Those could easily be reattached. Chunks of flesh had been
eaten clean off down to the bone in many places. Not even the unparalleled
skill of the silver haired mortician could repair the gaping holes left behind
from the carnage. This was going to be the first closed casket funeral he's had
to prepare in a very long time aside from those of the Catholic faith. The lack
of defensive wounds on the triplets was troublesome as it made the gashes that
much more difficult to repair, meaning there was more flesh missing compared to
someone who would've tried to defend themselves and at least salvage some parts
of their body. The strangest thing about the young guests was the mixture of
regret, sadness, guilt, and relief frozen on their mangled faces.
*Closed casket for sure. I almost feel sorry for their parents...almost.
Teeheehee!*
~Don't feel sorry for any of them or their family. Those who needlessly
slaughter the sacred animal of the Goddess in the greedy quest for power as an
act of childish rebellion deserve no mercy.~
=Their deaths were merciful, altruistic brutality. To destroy that which is
sacred to Her interferes with necessary shadows and negates the meaning of
One.=
The mortician stopped what he was doing as an uneasy silence enveloped the
room. He slowly turned and faced his lover with a raised eyebrow beneath silver
bangs and tilted his head to the side, letting a tiny sliver of green glow peek
out from underneath. The tips of his high pony tail were within millimeters of
making contact with the filthy guest he was tasked with cleaning up.
"You didn't think both of us could reach you at the same time, did you?" the
tattooed project realized with a sigh. She perused one of the many shelves
lining the walls in the morgue until a jar containing a disembodied heart
caught her eye as well as one on a higher shelf containing a brain. "I want
those," she demanded of her lover. He was about to tease her with them, but
seeing the intimidating glow blaze through her eyes, he thought better of it
and handed her the jars. "That's what I thought. A~dri~an. You tease me enough
for being so small. I didn't like it when you stuffed me in the coffin that one
time. I have to breathe, you know." She cradled the jars to her breast and
hopped up on an exam table with relatively little effort, ignoring her lover's
giggling about how it was her idea to see what it felt like to sleep in a
coffin, and he didn't know at the time that she needed to breathe. He's so used
to death, and death doesn't breathe. "Shut up, you madman. I'll get you back,"
she said as her tone grew softer the longer she studied the jars of parts. The
said madman looked on in fascination as the experiment nuzzled the containers,
whispering a soft prayer to the Goddess and telling her lover in the next
world, Mae, that she kept her promise and found love again, and it was "the
pretty one", Marcus' friend. Then, she spoke in an ancient, and most likely
dead language, in prayer to the Goddess. She hugged the jars ever tighter to
her person, a warm glow emitted from emerald and sapphire eyes and a soft smile
played on equally soft lips. "I love you, Mae," the lavender winter whispered
as a single tear rolled down her cheek.
The legend wasn't sure how to react or what brought on her sudden shift in
mood. He hadn't seen quite a moving scene such as the one he had just
witnessed. It was morbidly beautiful in all of its love wrapped in the beauty
of death.
*She is a peculiar one.*
When his mate first arrived at his shop, she was a trembling mess with a faulty
memory. She wouldn't have dared to peek inside any of the plethora of
disembodied organs floating in their glass houses, let alone have an intimate
religious experience with not one, but two of them. He thought back to the day
he and Marcus Jones had encountered the lavender haired Rarity and her little
green haired friend, and eventual lover, the day their realm was destroyed.
Both he and Jones defected in their own ways. Neither reaper continued to be
involved with the wanton slaughter of innocent people. Jones took the two
Rarities in and raised them as his own in secret while continuing his duties.
He wanted to officially retire so he could take the girls to the mortal realm
and raise them in seclusion in order to avoid getting caught by the
authorities. Unfortunately, that hope was cut short. Somehow, he was
discovered, and killed in front of the two girls he was so desperately trying
to protect. He was never the type to yell at anyone for any reason, least of
all children, but that day was the only time he ever yelled at anyone. Fury and
fear-a look neither Rarity ever forgot-flashed in his acidic eyes as he yelled
at the girls to run and hide. The legend, on the other hand, was just tired of
the reaping, fighting, and constant hero worship. He despised it and was ready
to retire at a moment's notice. The day the reapers were ordered to destroy the
Empaths was the last straw. He was going to retire soon enough anyway, but when
Jones approached him with the orphaned Rarities, he felt sick; he was done. In
good faith, he gave an order to cease hostilities, announced his (unofficial)
retirement from that very moment forward and simply walked away, leaving the
reapers in the Empath's realm gaping after him in awe. He truly was flawlessly
beautiful without the glasses, in looks and in combat, which was proven when he
was the only one who emerged alive from the Council chambers with his Death
Scythe and what was sure to become marred flesh later on. He is Legendary Death
and he will not part with his beloved scythe.
The silver reaper awaited winter's first move. Seeing that she was still lost
in her own world, he decided it was probably a prudent idea to clean some of
the caked on gore off of his hands. His shuffling and humming of eerie melodies
that no one else knew nor cared to know alerted the female to another's
existence in the room. "Adrian, come here," she said sweetly, beckoning the
tall man toward her. The enamored reaper obeyed. He took his place next to the
tattooed hybrid on the exam table, and with arms encircling her waist, he
pulled her on his lap. She leaned into his embrace as he nuzzled his cheek on
her head. "There's a reason why you can hear us," the lavender lady began. "And
that we can hear you in silence."
The reaper peered over the experiment's shoulder, curiosity aglow in his
stunning green eyes. "And why would that be, Lovely?" An equally curious grin
spread across his scarred face as he held her closer.
The Rarity slid her delicate fingers over her lover's hands in the smooth,
gentle way that made his heart race, and laced her fingers through his. "Your
race is possessive and cleave to a single mate, however, mine is not. Empaths
are polyamorous, but we do have a certain person we prefer over others, and
that's who we choose to form a psychic bond with." The female removed a hand
from her reaper's grasp and touched each of their heads to illustrate her
point. "Amongst normal Emapths, that particular mate is the one with whom a
family is started, but with us Rarities it's radically different as we are born
sterile, and thus, are afforded more freedoms. We are free to link with any
being of any gender, or we can abstain if we wish. Social laws still
technically apply to us, but we don't follow them for obvious reasons. All
Empaths, including Rarities, love with their hearts and minds. You only love
with your heart." She tapped the jar with the heart in it. "To me, the heart is
the mind is the heart." A small finger moved back and forth between each organ
with its corresponding word as she spoke.
"Has anyone ever chosen a mate outside of your race?" the mortician inquired
with the curious grin ever present on his face.
"Long ago, a Rarity left our realm to be with the demon she claimed as her own.
Now, I choose you, a reaper. That makes me the second to choose a mate outside
my race, and the first to move on after the severance of my previous bond." A
sad glow illuminated the Rarity's eyes in remembrance of her first love. "Do
you have a better understanding on why we can talk without speaking? I have
claimed you in the way of my people." The mortician merely nodded with the ever
present curious grin on his face. "Good. I'm glad." She tugged the silver cord
behind the reaper's ear and stole a kiss as gentle as the touches that made his
heart race.
                                    xxxxxx
The last body had been autopsied and prettied up thanks to the female's
assistance. For someone not ensnared by the social norms of women, she was
quite adept with cosmetics. The mortician, however, took care of the dirty work
with his usual brand of efficiency and care. His curiosity and amusement were
at an all time high, especially with the short haired brunette and the
triplets' corpses. The brunette was one of the more amusing specimens he had
the pleasure of reassembling in years. The man couldn't stop laughing as he put
him back together again.
*She really did a number on this one.*
=He was inside the dead. He is dead inside.=
~Piece of shit necrophiliac deserved what he got. Death is beautiful, but the
dead should not be desecrated in such a way. They will come back as vengeful
spirits with no memories rendering their efforts for revenge fruitless. One
should never defile a body.~
The mortician raised his eyebrow at the cacophony of his lover's thoughts
within his mind. Was that why he had a false reputation of committing the
deplorable act of necrophilia? Some noble brat no one would ever suspect was
the real culprit all along. It's easier to pass the rumors off on the creepy
old mortician who just happens to genuinely love his job. He would never ever
dream of doing such a vile thing to one of his guests, even if it was his worst
enemy. No wonder his lady love saved the fiercest of her fury for the noble
necrophiliac. The last fellow who had severed himself was punished for merely
accusing him of such falsehoods. This young man he prettied up actually did the
deed which fueled the gossip and threw him to the wolves. The little shit's
secrets were exposed by the wrong person, and it was her, that wrong person,
who made him remove himself and eat it. A macabre metaphor of the boy's actions
and their effects on the mortician. The bastard deserved what he got.
As for the triplets who appeared to have been mauled by a pack of wild dogs;
something was awfully askew about the wounds. The closer the mortician looked,
the more his curiosity was piqued. He carefully studied the bite marks on each
boy from all angles, and even with his poor vision it was painfully obvious
that the bites were the work of humans, not dogs. The boys cannibalized
themselves and each other...willingly, which explains the lack of defensive
wounds. The expressions on their faces had the hallmark signs he'd seen in her
work except one thing: fear.
*That's what she meant by 'merciful, altruistic brutality' and sacred animals.
It's a revenge for animal sacrifice to her deity where none is required and for
the wrong reasons. Blasphemy in any religion.*
"Self sacrifice requires no fear. Hehehe. My Lovely hates people who destroy
those things which are sacred to her. That's what they get for incurring her
wrath," the mortician muttered to himself. "How very interesting that she
pulled this off under the pretense of a feral dog attack. My Lovely is peculiar
indeed." He giggled as he committed the triplets' corpses to the long list of
the most interesting and mysterious circumstances he's been amused by to his
long memory. Somehow he knew. He always knew. Then, he began to wonder if the
bodies were in this state because he knew what she was capable of, and because
he knew the Queen's Guard Dog was on the case. Furthermore, he wondered if she
knew if he'd be the one to end up with the bodies instead of the Yard. But, the
lingering question of disguising a most brutal death as a dog attack burrowed
deeper into his psyche like a parasite to its host. To go that far to avenge
for blasphemy? He put the thought aside for now. He knew his mate had her
reasons. He remembered the darkness of her aura and the malicious rage burning
in her bejeweled eyes when she spoke of the ginger triplets. While others would
be terrified, the silver haired reaper sympathized and loved her even more.
"Adrian," frozen winter spoke softly. "Red Death is here and she brings
another."
"Ah, that would be my dear, Grell Sutcliff," the mortician confirmed without
turning around. He closed the lid on the last coffin and wheeled it to a
storage area. "As for the other, I'm not sure who it could be. Perhaps she
brought her apprentice? I do hope she isn't stuck with that miserable bloke,
Willy, again." He tapped his nail on his chin. "I never did like him. He's too
uptight, and he worships the ground I walk on. How pathetic! Hehehehe!"
A semi feminine voice calling for Undertaker echoed into the morgue from the
front of the shop. The panic stricken female vanished into the shadows, keeping
her mate in close proximity to her invisible form. She did not wish to part
from him given the current circumstances.
~Do they know?~
*I don't know, but we'll find out. Won't we, Lovely?*
=You are me. Red Death is nothing to be feared. I have seen the depths of her
depravity, but she has her limits. She lacks the love she so freely gives, but
never receives in return. She is proud. She is power. She is passion. But she
feels very deeply, and a part of you reminds her of herself. She will never
admit it to you or anyone. Do not fear her. The other, I do not know him, but
he is close to her. I am you. We are one.=
The silver haired mortician decided to creep the two reapers out that had
entered his shop. It was only fair, and he was addicted to amusement on this
particular day. With inhuman speed he popped up behind the redhead and her
associate. Slowly, silently, he rose to his full height with his trademark grin
glued to his face "You must be here for your coffin fitting, yeeeeessssss?
Heheheehe."
                                    xxxxxx
The irate manager slammed his fist on his desk. "What do you mean that you
couldn't collect the six souls? They were either there or they weren't!" He sat
back down in his chair and rubbed his temples. "Do you have any idea how much
overtime you're causing me?"
"S-sir," the young blond haired reaper stammered. "That's just it. The souls
are there, b-but I-I can't get to them. The records refuse to leave the body!
The souls can't be reaped! I've never seen anything like it. No one taught us
about this in the Academy...Sir." The blond handed over the files of neatly
stacked and completed paperwork with a slight bow. "Here is the paperwork. You
will find it completed in full detail as required, sir. I-is there anything
else I-I should d-do?"
The stone faced reaper skimmed through the paperwork with narrowed eyes. "It
appears to be satisfactory. I'll be handling this issue from this point
forward. You are dismissed," he ordered, glaring at the young man over his
steel framed glasses.
The subordinate bowed and scurried out of his fearsome boss' office, glancing
over his shoulder just enough to catch him going over distinct parts of each
document with a black marker. The poor reaper had no idea that he just made
life more complicated for a certain couple, but luckily for him, he knew how to
think on his feet better than almost any other reaper in his generation. This
was not what he signed up for, however. When he killed himself as a human, he
expected to just die and rot in the ground forever, not to become this
nearsighted, scythe wielding killer. He knew reapers could only die from a
fatal blow by a Death Scythe, but he was too much of a pathetic coward to kill
himself a second time. He still remembered the legends of Yurei from his human
life. In fact, he still remembered all of his human life. He wanted out. Out
from under his tyrant boss, out from under the stress, out from under the
rules, out of the realm, he wanted true death. Peace, freedom, eternal slumber.
He needed to find her.
Chapter End Notes
     Fun fact: Catholic funerals consist of a separate viewing a few days
     before the actual funeral service called a "Rosary." People
     acquainted with the deceased are welcome to offer their condolences.
     It's usually held at the funeral home (for obvious reasons) chapel
     for a few days. The actual service is held a few days later at the
     deceased's church. It is closed casket.
***** Warning *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
     Thanks for reading my fun story. Yay! *waves*
     Suicide via mind control contained within. References to past
     childhood sexual abuse mentioned. **You have been warned.**
     Enjoy!
"'Taker, get her to stop!" the dual colored reaper choked out from his place on
the wall.
~Who are you?~
"Senpai!" the young man choked as his superior stood frozen in place with her
own chainsaw drawn to her throat, ready to slice off her head at any second.
"Please? Someone tell her we're not here to kill her! Please!" The reaper's
legs flailed about in a vain attempt to free himself, but even his superior
strength was no match for the experiment's power. With a single thought the
petite with the glaring black pits could crush every bone in the young man's
body to dust if she wanted to.
~Don't ignore me.~
The soft, airy voice swirled in the the pinned reaper's head demanding answers.
He looked down at the girl, tears pricking the corners of his gold and green
eyes. "Ronald Knox!" The pressure on his throat increased. "My name is Ronald
Knox. Grell Sutcliff i-is m-my s-senpai. We're not here to hurt you or 'Taker!
I don't even know you!" Pained tears were rolling down the young reaper's face
from the crushing force being applied to his throat. He almost swore he could
hear bones breaking in his neck under the petite's power.
~Why are you here?~
"We were ordered to spy on you," he answered truthfully in a choked voice. "But
by associating di-" The crushing pressure cut the reaper off mid sentence.
Meanwhile, another part of herself was interrogating the red reaper.
=Red Death, we do not know him, but I know you. She remembers your deed. I am
her and she is me. We must know if the other seeks our demise. What have you
come for?=
The red reaper's chainsaw was at the ready, inches within decapitating her. "We
came to warn you and Undertaker that William is on to both of you. He knows
that you're his mate. He sent Ronnie and I to spy on you guys at night and two
other reapers to spy on you during the day. Eric and Alan-the other two-won't
have much sympathy for the two of you. Ronnie and I think what they're planning
is wrong, and that's why we came here to warn you."
=Is there more you aren't telling us?=
"The orders are from upper management. They want you alive in exchange for
Undertaker's death."
"What!" the mortician exclaimed.
"They said you're a threat as long as January is around, Unnie," the redhead
whined. "They're choosing her over you because she can 'get in people's minds.'
They obviously intend to use her as a weapon, and they want you out of the way
because you're too powerful. Two beings with immense destructive power bonded
together pose too much of a threat, so upper management is using your desertion
as an excuse to invoke the death penalty. They don't care about the eons of
service you gave to Dispatch, nor do they care about January's well being. They
call her an 'it' in the files we were given, Unnie! You know better than anyone
that she's a woman!"
"Yeah, Spears-senpai called you a failed science project, Miss January," the
young reaper rasped through the pressure bearing down on his throat. "He's an
asshole, and he's full of shit. He wouldn't know a real woman if she bonked him
on the head. Ask Grell-senpai." He squirmed in an effort to point at the
redhead. "I know why senpai is hell bent on helping you and 'Taker and I agree
with her reasons. Out of respect for her, I'm gonna keep quiet. I don't feel
like pissing out of my nose for the rest of my life."
The female probed both reaper's minds, searching for unspoken truths. Upon
finding no hidden deception lurking within either one, her eyes returned to
their new normal. "Grell, you and your apprentice speak the truth. We shall
withdraw. Under the current circumstances, please understand my actions and
accept my apologies," the lavender haired woman humbly bowed her head. "I'm not
used to others referring to me as anything other than an object. Thank you both
for properly acknowledging me." She closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to
relinquish their control over the two active reapers. The younger reaper
dropped to the floor with a thud and the red reaper's Death Scythe vanished on
its own. The mortician protectively embraced his mate, their severe height
difference obvious to the others in the room.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but is everyone from your race as small as you
are?" the two toned reaper asked as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yes, all of us are naturally short, but we do have varying body types," the
Rarity replied with a pointed look.
"I meant no offense. It's just that you and 'Taker look so adorable together."
An awkward silence filled the air after the young man's tactless "compliment"
was paid until a loud cry was heard from outside the front door. The lawnmower
wielder perked up in recognition. "Senpai, I recognize that voice. It's Brian
Jones! He was in my graduating class at the Academy."
"Why would he be here?" the redhead curiously inquired.
"I don't know. He was always really quiet and withdrawn. He never talked to
anyone. It's like he didn't want to be there. It's too bad 'cause he's a
natural at his job. He's a fuckin' genius, too! Hey, 'Taker, should we let him
in? He's not on the case with us or anything."
"Hehehe. Why not?" the mortician replied with a sinister grin.
                                    xxxxxx
An emergency meeting was called to order with upper management that night. The
stoic reaper anxiously waited for the two highest ranking managers to enter the
conference room, unaware of the sweat gathering on his brow while he
compulsively thumbed through his paperwork, making triple sure that the young
blond reaper's name was redacted from the reports. The young field agent
needn't be involved in this highly classified case. Despite his excellent
career in the Academy, something about the boy did not sit right with the
manager. The heavy double doors finally opened, revealing the two managers that
had assigned the special case.
"Sirs," the short haired manager stood and respectfully greeted with a bow.
"Spears," the gray haired reaper huffed as he sat across from his subordinate.
"Good evening, Mr. Spears," the black pony tailed reaper greeted politely,
seating himself beside his colleague. "What is the big emergency, hm?"
The short haired reaper slid the report across the table. "I have reason to
believe 'The Prototype' has fully merged."
The gray haired reaper scowled at the report, then passed it to his comanager
who raised a thin black eyebrow. "Mr. Spears, if the Cinematic Records refuse
to leave the body-" the gray haired man began gruffly.
"Oh, come now," interjected the other. "The other suicides were able to be
reaped, but these weren't. Everyone knows Yurei are soulless. No soul, no
reap."
The gray haired manager glared back and forth between the two black haired men.
"So, you're telling me that the project is finally a success?" he whispered to
his pony tailed colleague.
"It would seem so."
"It took long enough," the gray haired reaper replied sarcastically.
The lower ranking manager cleared his throat. "Sirs, what is this all about?"
he demanded.
The black haired senior smiled slyly. "Mr. Spears, you should know, you were
there. You oversaw the whole thing."
"Correct, however, I only oversaw collections and occasionally the scientists
when they required babysitting," the manager lied. He oversaw much more than
that, but he wasn't about to let a certain other manager in on the secret.
"Well now, according to your reports, it appears the two beings were coexisting
independently within 'The Prototype's' body, with the Ikiryo stepping in at the
final stages of the victim's suicide," the other added.
"Which is why the souls were still able to be reaped," William mused. "Now
that-"
"Now that 'The Prototype' has become what we engineered her to be-two complete
beings merged into one-any suicides influenced by her will have souls that
cannot be collected," the gray haired manager cut in sharply.
"That's because Yurei, specifically Ikiryo, have no souls. When 'The Prototype'
gets inside the heads of the victims, their records are too corrupted to leave
the body and move on to our world. We still don't know what happens to the
records as time passes. It's too soon to tell." The black haired man's eyes
flashed in sudden warning. "You'll recognize 'The Prototype by its eyes,
Spears. They still glow that mismatched blue and green at rest and turn pitch
black at full power, but the whites of its eyes at rest have turned black. It
can vanish into thin air and traverse great distances. Luckily, it can't phase
between realms. Its power is great enough to control multiple people and kill
with a single thought if it pleases. We used the oldest Ikiryo known when we
built 'The Prototype, and it is lethal."
"I still think it should be destroyed, sirs," the stoic manager offered. "If
it's as lethal a weapon as you say it is, then it's the one that poses the
greatest threat to us. I firmly believe it will kill to protect Mr. Crevan
without any consideration for his feelings."
"Spears, you're being sentimental again," the pony tailed reaper scolded. "We
know how you...hmm feel about Mr. Crevan." The male quietly snickered under his
breath. "I understand that he was your former mentor, but he's a deserter and
must be treated accordingly. Besides, what makes you think Crevan wouldn't do
the same for that little oddity, hm?"
"He's committed no crimes in the mortal realm!" the underling protested.
"Spears!" The gray haired manager rose to his feet along with his cohort. "We
have made our decision and it stands firm. We will send updated files to your
team ASAP. We have nothing more to say, and that's final. This meeting is
adjourned! Goodnight!" With that, he turned on his heel and briskly marched out
of the room, slamming one of the double doors behind him, leaving the two black
haired men behind.
"Mr. Spears, there's no room for sentimentality. Just obey your orders," the
senior manager said with a smug smirk. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir," the frustrated reaper bit out. He glared as the other man
casually exited the conference room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. As
soon as he knew the two higher ranking managers were clear of the room, he
drove his fist hard into the solid oak table. "Dammit! How stupid are these
people? Why don't they destroy that abomination?" The manager sighed in
exasperation, knowing he had no choice but to follow orders lest he face the
consequences. He pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses for
the umpteenth time. "Honestly," he grumbled. "It's probably best to get rid of
them both. As much as it pains me to say it, that thing will kill to protect
Crevan, and as possessive as he is, he'll do the same for that miserable
abomination."
                                    xxxxxx
The young, blond reaper clung to the legend's robes desperately begging for the
end while the latter just laughed maniacally. The other two reapers hid
themselves in case the greenhorn spelled trouble for them, however, they still
had a prime view of the boy's performance.
"Please, Undertaker," the blond sobbed. "I didn't want this. I-I-I need to find
her, the Yurei. I don't know any jokes, but I have information. Please, I just
want to end it all! Please!" The young reaper fell weeping at the silver
mortician's feet. "I didn't want this. I just wanted to sleep forever, the
final exit, ya know. I didn't want this shit job where I go around killing
people. Send me to Hell for all I care! Fuck redemption, I want the end! I
didn't want to live as a human either..." The young man jerked his head up,
neon green eyes blazing with anger fueled by sadness as he looked the legend in
the face from behind plain, black glasses. "Do you know how it feels to be
raped by your father while your mother sits back and laughs at you while she
watches? I was supposed to forget that when I moved on, but I still remember
every vivid detail, and no doctor in the realm can figure out why or how." The
boy's head drooped as tears began to fall. "Every fucking...soul I reap tears
at me. I envy the lives I wish I had, and the ones as horrible as mine used to
be, only serve to peel back the skin over and over and over and over and over,
pouring salt inside each time before it's stitched up and the cycle repeats."
The mortician's face fell. Usually, this was the part where he'd tell the young
man how pathetic he was and get over it. The legend's soft spot for crying was
reserved for the fairer sex. Given the young man's circumstances and the fact
that there was something in it that was beneficial to him and his Lovely, he
chose to play nice. "Come on, boy, get up," the mortician commanded, holding
out a hand to the sobbing heap at his feet. "I'll go make us some tea. What was
your name?"
Taking a seat on a nearby coffin, the blond softly replied, "Brian Jones."
"I had a good friend named Marcus Jones," the silver haired man mused.
"I assure you, I'm of no relation, Undertaker."
"I wasn't insinuating that you were of any relation," he replied setting the
tea tray down next to the young reaper. "Black tea. I hope it's to your liking.
Hehehe. Now then, what information do you have for me, young man?'
"I was assigned six souls to reap yesterday. All of them were teenage suicides
behind a pub." The mortician's eyes hardened beneath his bangs. "When I tried
to extract their records, they refused to come out. I remember legends about
Yurei from my time as a human. They can possess you and make you commit
suicide, that they are soulless beings, and the Ikiryo is the most feared of
all because it's neither alive nor dead. It just is. When I came across the six
boys whose records records wouldn't budge, I knew there was a Yurei around.
Prior to this incident, I overheard my boss talking to four of my coworkers,
one of whom was in my graduating class, about something they referred to as
'The Prototype, and how he wants it destroyed, but upper management wants it
alive." The blond paused to sip his tea.
"Go on," the mortician encouraged.
The blond nodded. "Well, Miss Sutcliff got mad and stormed off to her office,
so I followed her. I stayed out of sight, of course, and she was crying about
the whole affair. Ronald came in a few minutes later to check on her, and they
talked about how upper management wants to use 'The Prototype' as a weapon.
Miss Sutcliff was highly agitated about Mr. Spears' use of the pronoun 'it' for
'The Prototype.' She was insistent that 'The Prototype' was a woman, but all of
management treated her like an object anyway. Now more so than ever, because
they have plans to use her as a weapon. I know that the Yurei and 'The
Prototype' are one and the same. That's why I'm here to tell you that Grell and
Ronald should be here soon to warn you of upper management's plans."
"What does this have to do with the six souls you attempted to reap?" the
silver reaper asked suspiciously.
"I had to fill out an incident report and turn it in to Mr. Spears. I think he
thinks the Yurei is stronger. I saw him redact my name from the report just
before I left his office, so I don't know if that is of any reassurance to you
or not." The young man put two and two together. Realizing what the redhead was
going on about when she insisted the prototype was a female, a flash of insight
came to him. The creature was actually two beings. Yurei have no gender, and
why would a reaper claim something without form anyhow? "Undertaker, can two
independent beings merge together inside a single body after an extended period
of simple coexistence?"
The mortician didn't respond.
"Oh, dear God, what have I done?" the blond reaper wailed. "I just want to die;
not her, not you, not anyone else. Fuck! I'm just too much of a pathetic coward
to end it a second time."
=Legendary Death. We shall grant his release.=
*You'll need his scythe.*
=Not if he is willing.=
*As you wish, my love.*
The blond stared in astonishment at the prototype that had just appeared from
the shadows as she silently communicated with the legend with subtle changes in
the glow of her eyes. "It's true," the boy gasped. "You did claim her! You are
so beautiful together. I hope Ronald and Grell get to you soon."
"We've been warned," the cold lavender storm stated. "And we appreciate your
warning as well. For that, I'll give you what you want. Are you ready to die?"
The young reaper's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, more so now than ever!"
"Brian, what are you thinking!" the blond's former classmate yelled as he came
barreling out of the shadows.
"Ronnie, leave them be!" the redhead chided.
"I'm sorry we have to meet this way, Miss Sutcliff," the blond reaper sniffled.
"You're more beautiful now that I can see you out in the open." He turned his
attention back to the two toned reaper. "This is what I want Ronald, what I
need. Don't try to talk me out of it anymore," he admonished. "Goodbye and
thank you." He bowed with a small smile to the occupants in the shop before
turning to follow his salvation to a private place to meet his fate.
                                    xxxxxx
"I'd prefer to use my Death Scythe, and at least appear not to be as cowardly
as I really am," the young reaper said bitterly as he summoned the
aforementioned object.
=Young Death, you are willing. Your weapon is not required.=
He studied his plain, standard issue Death Scythe. His heart was never into his
work, so he never bothered to modify his scythe, just as he never bothered to
customize his glasses. Everything about him blended in to the background like a
shadow. That's what he wanted to become, a literal shadow. Unseen, unknown,
never missed, unnecessary. "I know, but it's what I want. Please allow me this
last request."
The weapon nodded, allowing the boy his final wish. Her blackened eyes focused
on the cold, gray metal scythe. As a reaper, the blond was capable of inhuman
feats. Though he was willing to die, he was still afraid. This indeed may prove
to be interesting.
"Thank you, Yurei," the young man said gratefully. "Last night I dreamed that I
was an unnecessary shadow. No one missed me, I was unknown and unseen. I was
void and I felt loved in the darkness, and I felt happy in the emptiness. I
wish to be there, Yurei."
=I will give you that which you deserve.=
"Finally," the reaper said, robotically raising his Death Scythe. "This is the
end."
Obsidian bored into neon green, the soft, airy voice of the petite sensually
sliced through the blond reaper's subconscious as his scythe sliced easily
through his flesh, effectively impaling his chest cavity.
=Unnecessary Death deserves Nothing.=
For the first time in either of his lives, both as a human, and as a reaper, he
was happy.
***** Hurt *****
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for stopping by and reading this wonderful tale of
     strangeness. *waves*
     This chapter contains rape. *Consider yourself warned*
     Not to worry, there is a totally consensual palate cleanser later on.
     *Again, you have been warned.*
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"There she is. There she is." A low chuckle echoed in the dark room. The
prototype felt alone and confused. Her mortician lover was nowhere to be found;
and she was blindfolded, gagged, and heavily restrained to an all too familiar
examination table in an all too familiar laboratory where she spent the vast
majority of her life. She didn't need eyes to see that. She just knew. She felt
dried blood on her neck when she moved her head toward the voice of her captor.
The crust of dark crimson flaked off, digging into the sensitive flesh,
reopening the wound where the leather strap was buckled down much too tight.
Her panicked eyes glowed beneath the thick cloth of the blindfold, but no one
could tell through the opacity of the black fabric wrapped around her face. She
had never been strapped down that tightly by the neck before, not even on her
captor's most sadistic of days! And where was her lover? Why wasn't he here to
protect her as he so often promised? They must have taken him from her! Sorrow
and rage spilled over her pale cheeks in the darkness. She couldn't believe for
even a second that her Legendary Death had gone the way of his guests. As
though her mind had been read, the dark chuckle of her captor returned, this
time closer to her than before. "Oh no, my pretty," the wheezy voice crooned
and chuckled darkly. "He's right here." Her captor's hot breath sent waves of
nausea throughout her very being as it hit her face. She tried and failed
miserably to hold in the vomit as her captor slid his hand up her bare leg in
search for what was hidden in between. She choked on the burning contents of
her stomach as it rose up seeking an exit only to be blocked by the ball gag.
Painful and disgusting as it was to do so, she endured and forced it back down,
lest she die humiliated, suffocating in the violence of her own stomach acid.
"Just like old times, eh?" the wheezy voice rasped in her ear, knocking her out
of her thoughts.
Immediately, the experiment recognized who it was that was violating her. "Oc!"
she cried frantically through the ball gag.
"I knew you'd remember, eh, my pretty," the violator replied.
"Err's Areean?" the female demanded of the sadist in a muffled, unintelligible
voice through the gag.
The rogue Empath snorted out broken laughter. "He's around." A brief silence
fell over the room as the blue eyed man's eyes took on a sadistic glow. "Now
then, it's time for you to shut the fuck up." He punched her in the face and
climbed on top of her. Leaning down in her ear, he whispered, "Just like old
times, ya cunt." With that, he forced himself into the cold winter night
without mercy. Muffled screaming and two sets of maniacal laughter filled the
room as blood poured down from the violated ice storm. "I told you he was
here," the violator grunted out when he finished. He laughed as he dismounted
her, and to add insult to injury, the rapist dipped his fingers into her
bleeding divide and slapped her across the face, smearing it with her own blood
in wide messy streaks. "Shut the fuck up and quit crying, you silly cow! You
should know by now that this is routine!" the blue eyed male huffed.
A familiar burst of eerie laughter resounded from further away in the room
followed by a thud. Obviously, the other occupant fell to the floor having
gotten his jollies at her expense. She knew who it was, and couldn't believe
it. He was laughing at her. Her lover, her mate, the one she loved was laughing
at her ! The eugenicist finally removed the wretched girl's blindfold to reveal
the laughing madman, proving that he was telling the truth about his presence
in the room. "I told you he was here, my pretty," the blue eyed sadist
confirmed with a dark chuckle.
Fresh tears stung the violated Rarity's bloodshot eyes as she stared in drug
hazed disbelief at the cackling reaper before her. She tried to speak, but the
ball gag obstructed the words she needed to say. She slammed her head down
against the metal table within the limited confines available to her, wailing
in agony over the violation and betrayal. She wished to the Goddess that she
could destroy the two wastes of life laughing at her, but knew it was
fruitless. The bastards had her under the influence of powerful drugs meant to
subdue her and render her powerless and unable to fight back. She was
completely at the mercy of her captors, and with this knowledge at the
forefront of her mind she screamed through the ball gag wishing for a death
that would never come.
The legend she thought she knew and trusted sauntered over to her. "Oh, did you
have something to say, Lovely?" The words drawled out dark as night. He tilted
his head to the side, exposing phosphorescent eyes that never lie. The malice
in his once captivating eyes complemented the sadistic grin plastered to his
face. The man of unnecessary shadows removed the gag from the broken woman's
mouth and tossed it aside. "What's on your fragile little mind, hm?" he asked
mockingly.
"Why?" the female demanded hoarsely. "Everything. It was...a lie? But why?"
The madman laughed, casting more unnecessary shadows over his haunting
features. "Of course it was a lie, my dear. No one could love you! Self
preservation wins in the end, you know, and I have my connections. If it
weren't for you, I'd have been tried for desertion by now. Since you're here,
I'll see to it that you're destroyed, but first we're going to have a little
fun."
"I loved you," the lavender winter sorrowfully murmured.
The reaper doubled over laughing. "You've given me prime laughter today,
milady!" His tone suddenly grew deadly serious as he gripped her chin and
glared loathing fury into the illuminated despair of blue and green. "I don't
love you, and I have never loved you, and I never will love you. You and that
green haired bitch should've been killed before Jones ever found you two. In
case you're wondering, it was my idea to double the restraints. I forgot that
you have to breathe." He turned his attention to the Empath. "Have at her. Come
get me when you get bored. Ehehehehe!"
The experiment tried in vain to thrash in her restraints to escape her
tormentor, but she knew it was useless. She had no choice but to endure torture
after torture at the hands of an old enemy and a traitor.
                                    xxxxxx
"Get your hands off me, you fucking son of a bitch!" The merged female bolted
blindly out of bed into the wall, stumbling backward onto the floor. In a haze
of enraged despair, she scrambled to her feet and attempted to flee the shop.
"I said get your fucking hands off of me!" She shrieked from between two
realities as the mortician intercepted her before she went hurtling down the
stairs.
"It was just a nightmare," he said calmly as he tried to soothe the psychotic
woman wrapped in his arms.
"Fucking LIAR! You're one of THEM!" She bit his arm, violently jerking her head
side to side, tearing out a small piece of flesh and spitting it in his face.
"You're part of it!" She shrieked with lost, paranoid eyes looking straight
through the reaper from another reality. Her lights were on, but she wasn't
home.
"No, I'm NOT!" the reaper shouted as he slammed the smaller woman against the
wall, pinning her by the wrists. He stepped closer to the petite, trapping her
between himself and her spot against the wall. "Listen to me, Lovely," he said
softly as he gazed down at her with equal softness from hypnotic green eyes.
"Whatever happened, it was just a nightmare. I will never leave you. I will
always protect you. I will always love you."
The small woman's eyes welled with angry tears. "You laughed at me when I was
raped...then you said you never loved me...then you said you were going to
destroy me, not kill, destroy. I'm an object to you."
"Look at me," the mortician softly demanded. When she refused, he repeated his
demand more firmly. "Look at me." He took her chin in one hand, forcing her to
look him in the eyes. "Look at me," the mortician repeated. The paranoid
Rarity's harsh glare locked on to his hypnotic eyes that never lie. "I would
never harm you in such a way, I will never harm you. You are mine. I will kill
anyone who dares to hurt you. I promised to protect you and I will." The silver
reaper cupped both sides of his lover's face, once again forcing her to meet
his gaze; to make the violent Antarctic storm see the warmth, tenderness, and
compassion on display in his glowing green orbs. "I hurt when you hurt, my
love. You are not an abomination or an object, you're a lovely, powerful woman
who should be treasured and adored."
The combination's grip on reality was within reach. She slid down the wall to
her knees, her lover quickly joining her. "Your eyes never lie, Adrian," she
mumbled, looking back up at his phosphorescent compassion, but underneath was a
love so unfathomably deep that the Goddess herself couldn't sever it. "Do you
really mean it?" she asked meekly. He had never lost his patience with her
before, never mistreated her no matter what she said or did or how much she
doubted him. She had her reasons, though. She instantly felt a crushing wave of
guilt for doubting him again after he just poured his heart out to her,
especially after pulling her out from the void of being stuck between realities
after having another nightmare. This was one of the worst nightmares she'd
experienced, and here was the moment of truth as she awaited an answer from her
silver love.
The legend tucked a sweaty tendril of lavender behind the tattooed experiment's
ear. "Look at me, Lovely." Their eyes met once again. This time, she looked at
him, her grip on reality was secure. They shed tears of doubt from a soft glow
of hope. "Every single word I uttered, I meant. You are a treasure. You are my
treasure, and I adore you so. You deserve to be loved, not tortured. I am more
than willing to love you, not because I need to, but because I want to."
The lavender haired woman felt terrible. His actions spoke louder than his
sweet words, but she was the one who continuously put him through the shredder.
His enchanting eyes never lied, but she constantly tried to convince herself
that they did by placing other male's faces on his when she knew damn well he
was not like them in any capacity. "Adrian, I'm so so-"
Her apology was cut off by an unexpected heated kiss. "I love you," Silver
Death breathed into the kiss as it became much more passionate. "Always
remember that," he commanded, pulling her onto his lap.
"I'm sorry about your arm," the female whispered as she embraced her lover.
"It's already healed, no damage done," the reaper smiled and presented the
previously mauled forearm to the woman to inspect.
"I'm glad." She smiled as brightly as her eyes lit up when her lips were once
again captured in the reaper's kiss. "Adrian, I love you," she whispered. His
clawed fingers ran the length of her back, making the flesh crawl beneath her
tattoo, and eliciting a low purr from the back of her throat as she pressed
herself against him. Her fingers slipped through silver, her tongue toyed with
the piercings in the reaper's ears, and at some point her clothing vanished
along with his.
The petite's hands delicately traced the long, winding scar traversing the
mortician's back, delighting in the way his flesh quivered below the scar
tissue. She squeaked as he suddenly grabbed her tightly around the waist,
holding her frozen in place under his possessive, predatory gaze. "I want you,
Stella," he half purred, half growled as he let his free hand slowly travel up
his companion's back until it found a place in lavender softness. She responded
by digging her delicate hands into a mass of silver and bringing their lips
together in that kiss that was theirs and theirs alone.
"No, Adrian, I have to have you," the petite demanded as he alternated sweet
kisses and playful bites along her neck.
"Then, I'm all yours, Lovely." He lovingly obliged to the lavender Rarity on
top of him. Her sweetness became vicious, yet it was still delicate in all its
ferocity as she demonstrated what a true biological weapon was capable of
besides warfare. Lavender bounced in swollen strings as she rolled and snapped
her hips astride Legendary Death like an exotic animal. His clawed hands
grabbed on to her hips as they were dancing in their exotic, dangerous rhythm
and used them as leverage to suit his needs as he snapped his hips up to meet
hers. She reciprocated, and like the unsated gluttons they were, the lovers
turned it into a sort of competition of endurance. The mortician made a tiny
whimper. She knew he was close because he had to be closer to her. So, she gave
in and laced her fingers through his as he pulled himself up allowing her to
wrap her legs around his waist. "Oh Charon, Stella, I love you!" the reaper
groaned as he moved in tandem with his lavender Rarity. He stole her lips in a
sweet kiss, holding her fast to him, unlocking her secret places.
"Oh Goddess, Adrian, I love you so much," she whispered in return as she felt
sharp teeth sink into her neck. She tensed and yelped in pleasured pain as her
lover's passion was spent.
"I can still see your perfect beauty in the dark even with such bad eyesight,"
the silver haired man mused. "The light in your eyes is just that bright,
Lovely. It's just that enchanting." He stroked a tendril of lavender out of the
brightly glowing mismatched orbs. "You say you could live in my eyes, I could
live in yours."
Chapter End Notes
     fun fact: Charon is not only the ferryman of Hades, it's also one of
     Pluto's moons.
***** Hidden *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thought's ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
     Thanks for reading my super fun story.
     Implied underage sexual abuse contained within. This is the
     beginnings of William T. Spears appearing to be a villain. Sorry,
     Will fans, but I had to do it. He's just got that attitude, and I
     have my reasons why he's OOC, which will be revealed much later.
     ***You have been warned.***
Five reapers were gathered in a small conference room for an update on the
special case they were assigned. Each of them thumbed through the new file
folders containing the classified materials. The red reaper and her subordinate
were already aware of what the update was all about, but being the brilliant
actress she was, and the casual goof off he was, the pair feigned ignorance
quite well.
"It has been brought to my attention that one of our junior officers has gone
rogue," the stoic manager announced sharply. "One, Brian Jones, who was
assigned to collect six souls-all of which were suicides-two nights ago. None
of the records were able to be collected as you can see in your files. We
believe the officer is unstable, and therefore, unfit for duty. He is extremely
intelligent, triple A student at the Academy, and graduated at the top of his
class. Jones is also a weapons expert and excelled in Scythe Modification,
although he chose not to customize his own Death Scythe. He excelled in combat
and is as powerful in fighting skill as Mr. Sutcliff. Unfortunately, the young
man has a history of anti-social behavior and severe depression despite having
superior abilities. He had only one person he considered a friend: Ronald
Knox."
All eyes fell on the aforementioned reaper. He swallowed hard and met his boss'
hard glare. "We had some classes together and I felt sorry for the kid, so I
was nice to him. It seemed like everyone picked on him all the time, so I'd
hang out with him and try to make him feel a little less lonely. I stopped
hanging around with him after graduation. If we saw each other in passing, I'd
say hi out of courtesy, but that's about it." The junior reaper shook his head
sadly. "The kid's got issues, Spears-senpai."
The pruner wielding reaper continued without addressing his subordinate's
commentary any further. "We will not be bringing in a reconnaissance team to
locate Mr. Jones due to the sensitivity of this case. Instead, you are to spend
half of your shift gathering information on 'The Prototype's' activities and
the other half searching for Mr. Jones. Do I make myself clear?"
A grumble of "yes, sirs" resounded from around the cheap, wooden table.
Satisfied with how smoothly the meeting went, the superior officer dismissed
his subordinates to fulfill their respective duties.
All but two of the reapers thought they were going to find a living but
unstable junior officer. The redhead and her junior, however, knew better. They
knew there was a dead reaper bound to turn up soon...or so they thought. "We
have to find the body, Ronnie. The records won't be able to be extracted, and
they'll know he went to her."
"Senpai, we don't know where they went," the dual colored reaper pointed out.
"I think I have a pretty good idea," the redhead said with a knowing grin.
                                    xxxxxx
*We all have our secrets*
For the first time since living together, the reaper woke before the Rarity,
and it was his turn to watch her as she slept. Her fair hair shimmered in the
morning sunlight struggling to break through the cracks in the black curtains.
His compulsion to arrange her long, lavender silk into elaborate works of art
fed her obsession for it. But even he had to admit he loved the way she looked
with her hair unfurled far more than when confined, especially when they made
love. She resembled a rare, exotic, wild animal: beautiful, vicious, and free.
Her eyes still glowed as she slept; lighting up the capillaries from behind
translucent eyelids. Subtle changes in the brightness, no doubt coinciding with
her emotions in whatever she was dreaming of, held his attention for an
indeterminate amount of time until she shifted positions, turning her lovely
face away from him.
As he roved the curvature of the Rarity's tattooed back with hidden eyes, the
mortician noticed something peculiar she kept hidden from him the entire time
they'd been together. A low growl of burning rage spun like a tornado in his
chest as he stared intently at the marred flesh of winter's inner thighs. For
an entire year, she took advantage of his bad eyesight and masterfully kept the
random pattern of crescent shaped scars accented by straight and narrow lines
with a dash of sloppy punctures hidden from his view. He couldn't fault her for
finding ways to conceal the marred flesh from him. He couldn't direct his anger
at her as it was most likely shame that kept that one wall between them from
falling down. Is it any wonder why they always did it in the dark? Is it any
wonder why he never got to completely enjoy her the way she did him?
*My lovely lady, what did they do to you?*
Is. It. Any. Wonder? He'd technically claimed her, but he wanted her. All of
her. The only thing he could do was wait and keep his terribly unsated hunger
in check as he did not wish to be like the Undertaker in the nightmare she had
just suffered.
The experiment's pale, smiling face turned back to him, her mismatched eyes
glowed bright beneath translucent lids, and her lavender hair draped over her
slender body like a silken sheet. She was serene and even more so when she
turned over on her side, still facing the silver reaper with a thick tendril of
lavender tumbling over her shoulder, barely concealing her breasts. The
petite's smile grew wider and more contented, her glowing eyes grew brighter as
she reached out for her mate's silver braid. Twirling the silver plait between
her delicate fingers, she pushed herself against the reaper and lazily draped
an arm around his torso. He, in turn, encircled her waist and pulled the
sleeping woman closer. "Adrian, I love you so much," the sleeping winter storm
murmured.
"I love you as well, my lovely one," the legend whispered as he nuzzled his
cheek on her head.
"So beautiful...my Adrian." The Rarity's eyes flashed brightly under alabaster
eyelids when she elicited a pleasured gasp followed by a low purr from the
mortician as she lightly traced the scar around his throat with the tip of her
tongue and followed up with an airy kiss.
"My lovely Stella." The mortician returned the soft kiss to her lips and
watched her eyes glow bright again. Placing gentle, sweet kisses over each eye,
he smiled and said, "Your eyes are glowing." As the room grew brighter with the
progressing morning light, he remembered what his Lovely had kept hidden from
him for so long. For a split second he considered basking in the beauty of her
naked glory, but for the sake of her volatile psyche and out of pure devotion
to her, he pulled the plush, pink covers over both of them, taking pleasure in
the warmth of her body as she immediately snuggled up to him. The legendary
reaper held his mate possessively, resting his head atop hers. She was his and
absolutely no one was taking her from him, especially the bastards who marred
her lovely legs with violence.
*We all have our secrets. It's no secret that she is perfect to me even with
the scars. It only makes her more beautiful. Absolute, perfect beauty.*
                                    xxxxxx
The madam picked the wrong girl to try recruiting that night. Unbridled terror
compounded with unfathomable sadness twisted her features into an
uncharacteristic snarl. "Get out of my head!" The madam's desperate cries had
no effect on the expressionless petite staring her down in the streets of
Whitechapel. The dark, airy voice of the obsidian eyed woman sliced through the
madam's subconscious like a blade through skin.
~Had you not accosted me on the way home, we wouldn't be here, would we? All I
wanted to do was bring a certain someone their favorite dinner, but you so
rudely interrupted me.~
"I just thought you'd-"
~Make a splendid whore. I assure you, madam, I do not intend to help you keep
your perverse cycle spinning in perpetuity. Tell me, how does it feel to fall
from grace? I've never been of noble blood. Did it hurt when he kicked you out
of the gilded carriage?~
Sadness best forgotten stained the madam's face. "Whore," she seethed under her
breath through grit teeth as she stood straight with clenched fists. "I was his
whore."
~Daddy kicked you out of his life over London Bridge, didn't he? His big,
booted foot right in the small of your back.~
Without warning, the taller female made a mad dash to the London Bridge,
knocking over pedestrians in blinding despair. She didn't know how long she
ran, but she was finally there when she came to a panting stop to the familiar
place where she was disowned as a teenage girl. She peered over the edge like
she did that day, the old, familiar sting pricking the corners of her eyes. "I
was his whore, and somehow it's my fault. Bullocks!"
~We meet again.~ The dark, airy, malignant voice pierced the woman's
subconscious once again.
"Bullocks!" She screamed at the black clad female as she materialized beside
her. The expressionless features of her face coupled with the solid black where
there should have been eyes cast a horrifying image in the taller woman's mind.
The black pits on the petite's face seemed to grow darker in the moonlit night.
A gust of wind blew lavender hair back, exposing the contrast of skin and eyes
even more. For the first time since their encounter, the lavender haired woman
made a subtle movement with her head, tilting it to one side. A second,
stronger gust of wind picked up, catching the petite's lavender locks in a
swirling motion. This time, she allowed her head to follow the motion of her
hair with fluid grace, but kept the blackened eyes focused on the madam whose
eyebrows knitted in confusion upon seeing the scar peek over the high neckline
of the petite's black dress.
~You see, madam, I already belong to someone. Unlike your daddy, my someone
will kill to keep me. Your daddy knew you enjoyed playing his whore a little
too much, so when you came of age to be married off, he couldn't have a sullied
little thing like you taint the family name, and here is where he dumped you.~
"It's not true!" the other woman shouted.
~Oh, but it is. You enjoyed the comforts of...home, so to speak. Daddy's big,
comfy bed, then, one day, it's all gone. Now look at you, a symbol of the thing
you hate. Why don't you jump into the most comfortable bed of all, hm?~
"Not true, not true, not true, not true..."
~Here's your chance to redeem yourself. Go ahead, jump. Jump, just like you
wanted to do that day that daddy threw you out like the trash you are.~
"...Not true...not true! Not true! 'Tis bullocks, I say!" the broken madam
shrieked.
~You know very well that it is. Just be glad this is a merciful end.~
"What the? Who?"
~Just a friend.~
=We are necessary ends to unnecessary shadows.=
With agonized tears from memories of a past best left forgotten, the female on
the brink numbly threw herself over the railing and unceremoniously plummeted
to her death from the place where she fell from grace. A sickening crack echoed
in the night as the woman's skull collided with a support beam before she
finally splashed down in the water below. The lady in black stood, staring over
the edge, making sure her work was complete.
~I will be no one's whore. Never again will I be anyone's fuck toy.~
Tension in the air accompanied by an odd electrical current signaled one thing:
a portal was about to form, which meant a reaper was about to show up. All
traces of her were gone before the reaper appeared. Within a few moments, she
was safe and sound in her room at the shop, and hoped to have a night free from
nightmares as she fell asleep in her lover's embrace.
                                    xxxxxx
~Those eyes, green and yellow, looking at me with such hatred. The face a
neutral mask, with loathing eyes that betray it. Every time he's reminded of
the pretty one, he does this to me; he touches me, he hurts me. He knows my
obsession and exploits me. He found out my secret hunger and objectifies me. I
wish I could see the pretty one again. He wouldn't do these awful things, would
he?...Oh Goddess, not again!~
The rogue Empaths wanted to borrow the stern reaper's Death Scythe to see if
their little experiment would work, but they didn't expect the reaper to join
them in their perverse plan. Of course, the uptight man wasn't going to hand
over his weapon to a pair of untrained scientists, but he was curious to know
what the outcome of the test would be. All the eugenicists wanted to know was
whether or not the prototype was "unreapable", and lo and behold, the reaper's
pruning shears were the perfect tool for the job. However, they fibbed a little
when they told the manager why they needed the scythe for the test, stating:
"We just want to make sure the prototype can withstand blows from a Death
Scythe just in case there's any trouble out on the field. It's just a general
precaution." When questioned as to why the test had to carried out on the inner
thighs: "It's a sensitive area of the body capable of causing the subject
maximum pain, therefore, leading to more accurate results." The Dispatch
manager bought it hook, line, and sinker.
"Ok, my pretty, we have a new round of tests," a dark haired, blue eyed Empath
said in a cheerfully sadistic voice. "How pretty you are with your legs open
wide and tied down." He snickered at the drug hazed young Rarity.
The restrained lavender experiment lolled her head around, seeking out the
wheezing voice in her ear. A drug induced stupor began carrying her off into
unconsciousness. Her mismatched eyes glowed dimly as she tried to remember why
she was in the room with the three men. As she was about to drift off, a
sudden, sharp, searing hot pain, the likes of which she had never felt before
struck her inner thigh instantly counteracting the drug's effect. It hurt
infinitely worse than being fused with the Yurei. Another bolt of pain
followed, then another and another. She was too busy screaming in pain until
she passed out to notice snippets of celluloid rising from the puncture wounds
only to be instantly sucked back in again.
"What is the meaning of this?" the pruner wielding reaper demanded forcefully.
Deep down he was hoping to have killed her, but he couldn't let anyone know
that. Protocol.
"Mr. Spears, as you have just witnessed with our demonstration, our little
project can withstand an attack from a Death Scythe," the eugenicist wheezed
out.
"Why can't the records be extracted?"
"Was she on your little list?" he asked sarcastically.
"No."
"Also, you didn't give her a lethal blow, Mr. Spears," the other Empath piped
in. "That isn't what we were asking for. As far as her body reabsorbing the
records...Well, she's a Rarity, sir, she's different than the rest of us.
Rarities are more powerful. That trick could come in handy."
The reaper looked down at the unconscious girl and allowed an ugly sneer to
grace his features for a few fleeting seconds, then returned his attention to
the other men in the room. "Duly noted," he said curtly. With a disgusted sneer
at the bloody, unconscious girl spread eagle on the examination table, he
turned and glared at the blue eyed men. "Leave us," the reaper ordered with
cold malice.
                                    xxxxxx
That morning the mortician dreamed through her subconscious like she had done
with him many months ago.
*With a Death Scythe? And William T. Spears of all reapers to violate my Lovely
at that age?*
One of her hidden puzzles had been solved, but the silver reaper knew there was
much more to her than what she let on, however, he would bide his time for his
lady in black. She held the silver braid tightly in her hands, twisting it
through her delicate fingers, obviously seeking solace. The glow in her eyes
was angry, but the pained whimpers betrayed it. The silver legend held his
Lovely in a comforting embrace, humming an obscure tune as he stroked her hair.
He cradled her head to his chest and whispered sweet words in her ear as she
began to shake from the nightmare that plagued her. Eventually, she calmed
enough to relax her grip on his braid and slip a small arm around his waist. He
held her closer, happy that she was there with him in this reality.
*I will never leave you, Lovely.*
                                    xxxxxx
"Senpai, are you sure this is the right place?" The young reaper with the
bicolored hair looked around the clearing in the middle of the woods scratching
his head in confusion.
"Of course I am!" the red reaper snapped.
"Then, where's the body?"
The effeminate reaper continued her search until a peculiar thought popped in
her head. "Ronnie, what if she hid the body?" Her subordinate looked at her
like she sprouted a second head. "Think about it, she knows that the suicides
she influences have souls that can't be collected, so if one of ours falls
under her influence, she has to hide the body or it'll be traced back to her."
"Senpai, the only other place she has to go is back to 'Taker's shop."
"What are you saying, Ronnie?" the redhead asked.
"You know we can't be destroyed by fire," the junior officer stated matter of
factly.
"And we can still sense each other whether we're buried or drowned..." the red
reaper trailed off realizing where this was leading. Her junior officer had
always been so perceptive it was enviable. "Don't tell me..."
The younger reaper took on an uncharacteristically ominous tone. "She found a
way to destroy the body without a trace."
Red Death stared open mouthed at her partner in shock. "Then, she must have
taken his Death Scythe to Undertaker. He has ways of taking care of those that
even the higher ups don't know about."
"Senpai, is 'Taker really that powerful?" the blond and black reaper asked in
curious wonder.
Death in red nodded. "When I was in the Academy, I snuck into the Library once
and took a peek into the Vaults. I almost got caught, mind you. Anyway, Unnie's
book was totally different from ours. It had a black cover written in an
ancient language long dead, and it's the only one with a divine lock holding it
shut. I asked him about it once and he laughed at me. I found out later on that
he's the very first of our kind. He wasn't born of the human's sin of suicide.
He was created by the Divine. So, yes, Undertaker is extremely powerful."
"So, that's why upper management wants him dead," the younger realized.
"Exactly," the redhead confirmed. "And now his mate is evolving. I don't know
if he knows, or if it was meant to be part of the project. Our files are scant
on that information, but I think upper management is definitely hiding
something."
"I think everyone's hiding something from someone," the young agent grumbled.
"Why not join them?" The red reaper grinned mischievously at her subordinate,
exposing a mouthful of pointed razor sharp teeth. "This will be our little
secret."
***** Evolve *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
     Thanks for the reads. Sorry it's been a while. I haven't been feeling
     well. Boo, sickness! Boo!
     Anyway, this chapter contains gore and suicide via mind control.
     ***You have been warned.***
     Enjoy!
~And now he knows.~
The winter of mass destruction laid in her lover's protective silver embrace
watching him sleep. She let that last bit of shame evacuate her being. The
final wall that stood between her and the silver haired man sleeping peacefully
by her side came crumbling down. If he wanted to leave her because the shadows
of her past left its ugly, perverse mark so close to her hidden place, he would
have done so already. Instead, her silver reaper was holding her closer; firm,
yet gentle. Her last bits of shame for everything she had done and everything
that had been done unto her-from being violated to being the involuntary death
knell to an unknown number of beings-disappeared when she finally understood
what it felt like to genuinely feel loved and wanted. Something about the way
the reaper held her and whispered incoherent terms of sleepy endearment to her
suddenly clicked. Then, she remembered
~That day I hid here in the shop, he was so difficult to read.~
that he had been alone for so long and in need of company of the living
variety. She could sense his loneliness when she touched him. When she saw his
eyes,
~His piercing, beautiful green eyes that never lie.~
they revealed the loneliness she sensed. They also had want, hunger, and
something deeper lurking beneath it all. It was almost as if that deeper
something was reserved for someone special...the One.
~Me?~
He wanted someone to love and to love him in return. He wanted that someone to
share that inexplicable understanding on an unspoken level that no one else but
them could share. Obviously, he wanted someone who shared his voracious
appetite for sex, and who also relished in his never ending affection. Was that
too much to ask?
The lavender ice realized that those were the quiet demands hidden within the
deeper emotion conveyed in his eyes the first time she beheld them, and finally
the enigma made sense to her as she laid there in his arms.
~Every flash of passing emotion in his expressive eyes was supposed to be put
together like a puzzle rather than read separately. That's how he finds who
he's looking for.~
She thanked the Goddess for her gift and nuzzled into her lover's chest. "I
love you, Adrian," the lavender haired woman whispered, stretching slightly to
press a soft kiss on the scar around the reaper's throat.
He chuckled lowly and slid his long nails up the female's back, capturing her
soft lips in an amorous kiss as she arched her body further into his. "As I
love you, Lovely," the legend replied, once again protectively holding his
companion. "As I do you, no matter what..."
Both beings drifted off to sleep, however, one of them had to tell the other
about a certain reaper's missing corpse. The subject would most likely be
breached soon, so why not get it over with now.
                                    xxxxxx
Night shifted to day. One pair of reapers exchanged for another. All involved
were tired and wanted to go home.
"Did ya have any luck finding the rogue last night?" the tall, blond reaper
inquired of the outgoing night shift.
"No luck finding him," the redhead declared. "How about you, Ronnie?"
"Same here, senpai, no luck. The guy's a genius! He's probably long gone by
now, but I still think we should keep looking in case he does turn up. Right
guys?" the blond added with a hint of anxiety starting to creep in his tone of
voice. Luckily, his superior caught it and quickly took over the remainder of
the conversation.
"Anything from Dispatch?" the red reaper asked. "Anything in~ter~es~ting?" A
devious grin spread over her lips as she enunciated each syllable.
The brunette intelligence officer spoke up: "There was another 'suspicious
suicide' last night during your search for the rogue. A madam from the
Whitechapel district jumped off the London Bridge. Her records were unable to
be collected. A witness stated that a young girl vanished into thin air when
the madam ran from the Whitechapel district. Another witness at the bridge
stated that a young girl appeared out of nowhere and seemed to be goading the
madam into jumping off the bridge, and as she did so, waited a few moments
before disappearing. The working class are convinced that these areas are
haunted by a vengeful spirit."
"My, that certainly is interesting, Alan, dear," the red reaper purred. "And I
suppose this 'young girl', or what the working class believe to be a 'vengeful
spirit' is none other than our darling 'Prototype', hm?"
"That's right, Miss Sutcliff," the petite reaper agreed. "The reports are
correct, she has completely merged with the Ikiryo."
"Well then, Ronnie and I must be off. Good luck."
"Later guys!" the junior cheered as he followed his mentor through the open
portal.
The others bid their colleagues farewell, ignorant of the secrets that the
night withheld from the day.
                                    xxxxxx
The unhinged weapon stared blankly at the ceiling, letting everything set in.
She was evolving and she didn't know why or how. It had been on her mind all
morning, and she decided it would be in her best interest-and his-to tell her
silver protector what she was becoming and what she did to his fellow reaper.
"I destroyed him," the female blurted out. "Everything, including the Death
Scythe. I-I...destroyed it all."
The mortician blinked his eyes slowly. "Destroyed who, Lovely?" he asked in a
voice still hoarse and groggy from sleep.
"The young reaper who came here seeking death."
The mortician's eyes went wide in shocked terror as he sat bolt upright in the
bed, gripping his companion by the shoulders, consequently bringing her up with
him. He took hold of her jaw as he flipped his bangs back, forcing her to look
into his piercing eyes. "How the hell did you do that?"
Fresh tears pricked at the corners of the girl's eyes from the physical pain of
his vice like grip on her jaw. What hurt the most, though, was he seemed not to
notice. A single tear rolled down her cheek when he repeated his harsh demand.
In her love for him, she couldn't bring herself to be the arbiter of his
destruction as she would with anyone else who was this way with her. Instead of
responding verbally, she allowed her other self to speak for her.
=Legendary Death, why do you punish She? She is me. You punish me. We have not
wronged you.=
The soft, airy voice with a certain malignant edge drove its way into the
reaper's mind as the female lightly traced his hand with her fingertips.
Wavering light in her mismatched eyes combined with the soft, delicate touches
that always won his heart, traded her jaw for the persuasive fingers lacing
through his. His piercing eyes met her tearful, pleading eyes. He fucked up,
now he was going to lose her.
*You're not being punished, Lovely. I'm sorry...I'm just...I don't know how a
reaper can be completely destroyed, scythe and all, without a trace. I'm afraid
I'm going to lose you if they do find a single trace of him.*
=Legendary Death, he wished to be void and that is what we fulfilled. In Young
Death's life and afterlife, he was plagued by unnecessary shadows that he
desperately wished to escape, but they followed him everywhere he went. That is
why he remembered life in the afterlife. You Shinigami couldn't figure it out,
but as I am an Ikiryo, I preserve the memories of the living and the dead. Now
Young Death has found happiness in Nothingness. He is void. No longer is he
plagued by unnecessary shadows. He is One with Nothing.=
*Not even the Divine can do that.*
=The Goddess can. She is the Choicest Fruit of the Goddess. I am the Formless
One, the outcast and most feared among the bastard children of the Goddess. She
is me. I am She. We are One.=
*I am so sorry. I wasn't punishing you. I am just scared of losing you.~
=Worry not, Legendary Death. My love is her love. Her love is my love. We are
yours.=
*I love you as well, Lovely.*
The mortician hesitantly embraced the tearful female and stroked her lavender
hair, allowing a few tears of his own to shed. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so
sorry." He pulled away after a few moments when she didn't return his
affection.
"Why?" she whispered. "You've never been this way with me before. If not for
punishment or playtime...I don't understand fear." She remained motionless, not
caring that tears streamed down her face. "Adrian, did I wrong you?" She peered
up at the silver haired man with a hurt, confused glow contrasting the
nightmarish backdrop they were set within.
Despite being an adult, she still had childlike qualities about her. One of
which was the innocence in her large, lupine eyes. The reaper sighed and gently
tipped his lover's head up to meet his soft gaze, but ended up transfixed by
her enchanting light instead.
*That same innocence from many years ago...and that beautiful light never went
out even after all she's been through.*
He tucked a stray pastel lock behind the Rarity's ear and began, "No Lovely, I
was wrong. I was scared of losing you if you were found out through anything
left behind. Reapers can still sense each other post mortem. I honestly did not
mean to react the way that I did. I am so sorry, Stella."
The Arctic storm studied his eyes a moment longer.
~Eyes that never lie.~
"Your eyes never lie, Adrian. I'll forgive you. Had it been anyone else, they
would be dead, but I can't bring myself to be the cause of your own end.
There's something else." The female crawled onto the mortician's lap and
wrapped her arms around his neck.
"What's that m'dear?" he asked curiously. A grin slowly formed as he curled his
arms around the petite's waist and drew her in close.
"I'm evolving. I'm not sure how it's happening or why. I don't know if it's
supposed to be an end result of the eugenics project or an accidental
occurrence from merging with the Ikiryo, but, nevertheless, it's happening. I
noticed it when I took on the triplets out of the six thugs that attacked me.
The metaphor about dog sacrificing and somehow the illusion became...I don't
know how to describe it. I guess the best way to say it is, I made the
figurative literal. I'm not afraid of evolving, but I am afraid of losing you."
The petite lowered her head and withdrew her arms from around the reaper's
scarred neck, letting her hands drift slowly down the pale surface of his
chest.
~Every part of him is beautiful. Every scar, every angle, every strand of hair,
every piercing from the tips of his ears to down there, his eyes, his smile,
his laugh, his wit, his affection, his passion, his hunger, his devotion... He
is beautiful, and to lose him...~
The legend held the evolving creature closer and lifted her head to meet his
hypnotic eyes. "I meant what I said when I told you I'd never leave you, and
that I'd always love and protect you. You're still my Lovely no matter what."
His soft, sweet kiss lit up her previously tearful eyes in brilliant jewel
tones, illuminating a set of sparkling joyful tears welling in the corners.
"Don't cry anymore, Lovely. It breaks my heart to see you cry." The silver
reaper kissed away the tears that fell from the lavender winter's wide,
innocent, glowing eyes. "I will always love you."
 
The experiment smiled, relieved that she wouldn't lose her silver love. "Thank
you," she said gratefully, softly caressing the reaper's scarred cheek. "I love
you, too." She placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lover's lips. "Your eyes
glow when I kiss you."
"So do yours, my love," the mortician replied. "So do yours."
                                    xxxxxx
The drunkard couldn't leave well enough alone. Absolute horror etched in his
features as her blackened pits seemingly bored straight into his soul. He
wailed incoherent slurs at the female in spite of the gnawing ache coming from
within his core. All she wanted to do was enjoy her evening stroll through the
cemetery, but thanks to this asshole, her plans were now ruined.
=Waste.=
~When did it start? Was it when you were bored with being pampered your whole
life? Was it when you discovered what an abject failure you truly are without
your family there to be your crutch? Is that why you have to do what you do?~
The dark, airy voice corkscrewed deep into the lush's brain causing
excruciating pain no drug or drink could chase away. He probably shouldn't have
attempted to accost the girl so far away from his home turf, but then again he
was so fucked up from drinking all day he couldn't tell his ass from a hole in
the ground.
=Waste.=
~I see that you're quite far from home. Are you here to recruit the dead into
your prostitution ring?~
=Waste.=
The drunken pimp collapsed to the dirt with a wet plop, coughing up blood as he
did so.
=Waste.=
~The monsters in your head consume all of you from the inside out, bursting
forth from your eyes, and exposing your secrets for all to see. Bitter little
monsters like you. Gutless, spineless little worms who destroy innocent little
girls.~
The only coherent words the drunken pervert managed to cry out was: "Shit! It
hurts!" Blood mixed with tears oozed from eyes gradually being chewed from
their sockets by tiny corrosive mites. The same mites began consuming his skin,
slowly, but surely, leaving his flesh raw and exposed for the next course of
their gluttonous meal. To them, clothes, skin, bones, flesh, entrails, it was
all the same. They were corrosive monsters. Destroyers of men. They chewed his
guts, ate his heart, supped on his liver, dined on his kidneys, feasted on his
brain, and all in bits and pieces just for the sadistic joy in hearing him
scream. The jolt the mites received when the man hit the ground in a pile of
his own shit and blood didn't phase them one bit, they kept right on doing
their job being the bitter, corrosive monsters they were. They didn't care how
they were summoned into literal existence, but they enjoyed it just the same.
To finally feel alive!
=WASTE!=
~If it hurts so much, put an end to your misery. You have the means in your
hand, you wasted piece of shit.~
The bloodied man robotically smashed his liquor bottle on a nearby grave
marker. He screamed in agony as he felt the corrosive mites eat through his
body cavity. Some places were more eaten through than others, leaving vital
organs exposed to the cool, evening breeze. Still, he was too drunk to address
the obsidian eyed petite driving him to the end. Blind and empty handed, he
felt around the grass for a shard of glass. Mumbling incoherently, he stiffly
brought the biggest piece he found up to his neck and jabbed it in as hard and
deep as he could, then with a hard, fast jerk, made his great blood splattered
egress. The monsters had been silenced with the drunk pimp's sloppy exit. The
corrosive mites disappeared leaving a hollowed out corpse and half eaten
entrails in their wake.
~People like him should be eradicated.~
The lady in black vanished, her evening stroll now abandoned because of some
drunk pervert lying half eaten by his own corrosive bitterness, stewing in his
own digestive juices in the middle of the cemetery.
                                    xxxxxx
"I did not just see that, Eric!" the small reaper gasped in shock.
"I'm afraid ya did, Al," his not so secret lover replied.
Both day shift reapers caught the weapon in action just before shift change.
This was not in the files. This had to be reported immediately. A light cut
into the darkness. Shift change.
"Anything interesting, boys?" Red Death asked, cutting to the chase in a flirty
tone.
"Any luck finding the rogue?" the blond added.
"No luck with the rogue, Ron," the Scotsman replied. "To answer your question,
Miss Sutcliff, we did see something interesting with our darlin' 'Prototype'
just before ya showed up."
"Is that so?" The red reaper perked up with false enthusiasm.
"A drunk guy killed himself. Nearly took his own head off when he cut his
throat with a broken liquor bottle. As you know, the records won't be able to
be extracted," the brunette stated matter of factly.
The redhead twirled her wrist dismissively. "So, what else is new?"
"'The Prototype' willed the 'figurative' into the 'literal'. In other words,
the 'monsters' in the man's head became real, and began to actually consume
him, which drove him to commit suicide. She's evolving, Miss Sutcliff," the
mousy haired reaper said solemnly.
The taller reaper put an arm around his petite lover. "We have to report it to
the boss. Let us know what you find out in the morning."
"Yeah, sure. Goodnight, boys," the red reaper called as the day turned to
night.
"What are we going to do, senpai?" the junior reaper asked with worry heavily
weighing the question.
"I don't know just yet, Ronnie, but right now, we need to be extra careful."
The reaper in red's worry reciprocated that of her junior's as they proceeded
with their nightly "duty" of watching over their fair haired friends.
***** Clones *****
Chapter Notes
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     Thanks for the reads. Much appreciated.
     And in walks a blast from my OC's past...yes, another OC...and the
     plot thickens. Yay!
A room full of lavender clones greeted him on his way to meet with the Empath
scientists. He made triple sure his uptight, gray haired colleague wasn't
following him. He was a bigger asshole than that sentimental worm, William T.
Spears, but they both had their uses in the grand scheme of things. The
scheming reaper adjusted his golden spectacles, thinking to himself how nice it
would be to take one of the clones home for his own personal use. "Too risky,"
he said to himself, his long, black pony tail swaying back and forth as he
shook his head. At last, one of the scientists he had been searching for came
into view. Unlike his other subordinates, he knew when Empaths were lying,
which is why he decided to take charge of the cloning project himself without
anyone else's knowledge, let alone approval. Only one other reaper had a slight
idea of the secret project, and he had ways of keeping him in check. "Too
easy," the black haired man snickered.
A set of glowing emeralds cast themselves in the direction of approaching
footsteps. "Sir, we weren't expecting you for another three days, but no
matter, the serum is synthesized."
The black haired reaper smirked. "Please, Emily, you know we're on a first name
basis as long as that blue eyed pervert isn't around. Besides, I only wish to
speak with you. After all, you're the only one who does the real work around
here." A flash of lust illuminated his chartreuse eyes as he gave the object of
his affection the once over. "Don't bother summoning that piece of shit until I
leave."
"As you wish," the female Empath complied.
"Where is that piece of shit fraud who insists on calling himself 'Doc'?" The
reaper's tone darkened considerably with each word of the inquiry. "I'm just
curious."
"In the control room, running data for testing. He has succeeded in rendering
the clones free of independent thought."
"Is that so?" A crooked grin crept its way over the reaper's lips as he pulled
the green eyed female closer to him. "I suppose the bastard is useful after
all. It's too bad. I was on my way to kill him, too." He brushed a stray
tendril of white out of the female's face. "It's a good thing I have a kink for
exotic women or I would have tired of you a long time ago. Albinism in your
race is so strange, it never ceases to amaze me. Your eyes retain their pigment
while the rest of your body lacks it. We share the same trait in our two races,
you know, but yours...it's just so different somehow."
"I'm flattered," the female replied with a subtle glow in her green eyes. "It's
a good thing I have a penchant for exotic men, especially those who deal in
death," she whispered, lightly tugging the delicate chains connecting the loop
in his earlobe to the one in the shell of his left ear.
"You always know how to get what you want out of me, but today we haven't the
time, my dear," the reaper purred between kisses down the woman's neck.
"That's right, the serum...it's ready for use," she breathed, pulling away
before things went any further.
The high ranking manager cleared his throat as he gathered his bearings. "Are
you sure it will subdue 'The Prototype'?"
"I am positive based on blood analysis reserved from the eugenics project," the
female replied curtly.
"Be warned, Emily, 'The Prototype' is evolving. Here are the most recent
reports regarding her activities. Adjust the formula's dosage as necessary,"
the black haired male ordered, handing the files to the female eugenicist.
"Tell that scumfuck when you see him." The reaper began to exit the room, but
turned back. "I have a meeting to attend. Entertain me later on, hm?"
From the corner of her eye, the woman could see her peer approaching from the
opposite side of the room. "Yes, sir," she replied in her best interpretation
of subordination.
                                    xxxxxx
"Grell, I have to find Grell," the female Empath muttered to herself as she
frantically searched the Great Library for said reaper. Upon spotting her at
the entrance she ran to greet the reaper in red. "Miss Sutcliff! Miss
Sutcliff!"
The red reaper turned around at hearing the sound of her name. "Emily? I
haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"
"I'm well," the Empath replied, grabbing the reaper's hands with a wide smile.
She leaned forward and whispered, "Make sure this gets to whomever is caring
for little Stella."
The redhead slipped a small envelope the scientist covertly placed in her hand
into her coat pocket. "Stella?"
"January, 'The Prototype'. I, too, am a Rarity, and here against my will. I
have no time to explain. The Ikiryo will remember me, but I doubt Stella will.
I did care for the Ikiryo when it first arrived prior to Stella's fusion with
it. Anyway, let's pretend to converse normally before we arouse suspicion." The
reaper nodded. "Have you received a promotion yet?"
"Not really, but I am mentoring someone," the redhead replied with a sharp
toothed grin. "He's kinda cute, too. I think he might have a crush on me, but
we'll keep that between us girls."
"That'll be our little secret. No boys allowed." The albino scientist giggled
with the red reaper. "Well, that's great. I'm happy to see that you're moving
on nicely, Grell. I wish we had more time to spend together as friends." The
Empath beamed. "I must be off now. We both have our respective duties to return
to." The scientist drew the feminine reaper into a fierce embrace. "Remember
what I said, and do it on your next reaping. Be discreet and do not read it.
The contents are only for the eyes of Stella's caretaker. I deeply appreciate
your help, Grell."
"I want this to end as much as you do, Emily," the red reaper replied.
"You see a part of you in her, don't you?" Red Death stiffened in the woman's
tight embrace, the whispered truth hitting a secret nerve. "It's ok, I
understand, and I'll keep this between us girls, too." The redhead relaxed at
the reassurance from the scientist. "We all have our secrets. Some are dirtier
than others, but not as filthy as mine." The woman let the red reaper free
herself from the tight hug and forced a smile. "It was good seeing you.
Goodbye, Grell."
"It was lovely to see you, too!" the red reaper called after her old friend
with feigned cheer.
The pretty red reaper rushed off and did the eugenicist's bidding without
anyone the wiser on her next night's watch. Even her subordinate was totally
unaware of the covert slip of a small envelope under a crack in a certain
shop's front door.
                                    xxxxxx
As the mortician emerged from the back room after having made the most recent
guest-a hollowed out corpse-beautiful for what it's worth, he noticed a small
envelope lying near the front door. A nervous pit formed deep within his
stomach. He knew it had something to do with his Lovely and hoped it wasn't her
writing to tell him goodbye. He was still quite fearful of losing her after the
way he overreacted the night before. He slowly opened the envelope and unfolded
the paper within.
*Now would be a good time to have my glasses.*
He read and reread the contents of the letter he held close to his face. What
it contained was just as gut wrenching had his fair haired lover left him, if
not, more so. He read the letter again to make sure his blurry vision and his
mind were making the same connection regarding the contents of the horrifying
letter.
To Whom It May Concern,
I hope this letter reached you safely. This is a warning. A covert project has
been in the works since the latter stages of the eugenics program. It is known
as Project 0. Two dozen clones of 'The Prototype' (aka January) have been built
  and are currently awaiting fusion with the Will of the Ikiryo. I have been
forced to develop serums to subdue 'The Prototype' for different phases of the
   cloning project, however, I am secretly working on counteragents to said
                                    serums.
 A reaper in upper management, Martin Gaines, is in charge of this project. It
is my belief that this is not just for demon eradication. I am sure of the fact
 that he wants to use 'The Prototype' as a weapon for the rest of her life in
exchange for Adrian Crevan's death. To my knowledge, no other reapers are aware
of the project, including others in upper management or higher up. I assure you
 the conspiracy runs deeper than just having Mr. Crevan put to death or demon
eradication. It is my opinion that Mr. Gaines started this project out of sheer
boredom, and to him, all things are just toys to be played with. Unfortunately,
                   I lack hard evidence to back up my claim.
Please, whoever you are, guard and keep January well. We are well aware of her
  evolution. It is not a result of the eugenics project. I do not wish to see
   this young lady tortured anymore. I'm sorry that I cannot be of any help
   directly. Please, destroy this letter upon reading it so that no harm may
                               befall any of us.
Yours in gratitude,
E.
The mortician crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the stove. He stared
blankly into the flames as the paper turned to ash and dropped between the
chunks of wood piled within the fat, metal appliance. Numb. He felt numb.
*What am I going to do?*
The sick bastards cloned his Lovely and for what purpose? To start another war,
and this time follow through?
*Envy. He's always envied me.*
He knew what part of her they wanted and he wasn't going to let them have her.
"They won't take what's mine," the legend growled.
***** Root *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
     Thanks for stopping by and reading my wonderful fic. It's much
     appreciated. Sorry it's been a long time since the last update. I
     haven't been feeling well lately.
     So, to make up for my absence, I bring you an oddity laced with sexy
     time with trichophilia on top. Admit it, Undertaker's hair is
     gorgeous. *swoon*
     The brief theological discussion contained within chapter is slightly
     blasphemous in nature and may offend those of you who may be
     religious. Remember my OC is coming from a different culture. ***You
     have been warned.***
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
An unexpected visit from the Earl and his demonic butler caught the mortician
slightly off guard. The investigation of the "suspicious suicides" leaving
their gruesome mark in the back alleys of London was still ongoing as they had
started to move out to more open places. The deaths of the six nobles, however,
was declared closed due to the discovery of their atrocious crimes committed
before succumbing to their own suspicious exits from this world. According to
the one eyed brat, the Queen didn't want scandal to arise amongst the ranks of
the social elite due to the ghastly nature of the boys' deeds.
*Just like the Queen, high and mighty, looking down her nose at everyone else.
I can't wait to make her all pretty for her special day. Heehee.*
Unfortunately, the investigation was baffling the poor, young Earl. Even his
perceptive pet demon was at a loss on the case as the suicides followed no
discernible pattern, no distinct targets were selected, no one place was
specific in the alleys, all were indiscriminately dead. Now, the bizarre,
grotesque deaths were moving out in the open, garnering the attention of
witnesses in one case. A rumor spread among the working class that a vengeful
spirit was on the loose, however, the stuffy pair could never get a
corroborative answer from the witnesses regarding the so-called "vengeful
spirit's" description, so they gave up the search for it.
Though the "vengeful spirit" was mere feet from them, the red eyed butler still
couldn't sense her hiding in the shadows, black eyes trained on him and the
boy, ready to destroy them with a single macabre thought. She gave not a care
about her lover's feelings for the little Lord. She would kill him without
hesitation, without mercy, without regret, without fear along with his starving
demon butler all at once. No matter how many times he warned the boy, he still
couldn't get it through his head that the boy's soul was long gone. He was
demon soup now, and there was nothing in the world the reaper could do about
it. From the shadows, the angry contrast watched and waited with twin black
eyes patiently glaring down at the scene below.
The price of prime laughter was paid by the manzai humor stylings of the
"hilarious" butler, which never failed to amuse the silver haired mortician. As
always, the little Earl didn't understand the comedy routine.
*I wonder if that demon sucked the sense of humor out of the boy or if he was
simply born without one?*
In his usual cryptic manner, the mortician delivered a limited amount of
information to the demon and his dinner, frustrating the little one eyed kid to
no end. The hidden Rarity nearly gave herself away when she had to hold in an
oncoming burst of laughter from the noble's strained temper tantrum, which
always seemed to amuse his butler. The female took her leave of the trio as
they resumed their little tiff about the spoiled brat's soul with inwardly
rolling eyes. It was a holy day for her and she went to the one place where she
could be alone in prayer.
The silver haired man was more than relieved when the irritating duo finally
took their leave of him. The unexpected visit from them was just too much for
him on this particular day, so he decided to close up shop early. When he was
absolutely sure they were gone, he flipped his sign to "closed" and locked the
doors behind him. The reaper knew his lover had been watching from the shadows,
but she had somehow vanished again without him knowing. "I wonder where my
Lovely could be?" he pondered aloud in an amused voice as he puttered about the
shop looking for his lady love.
                                    xxxxxx
The reaper found her alone in the darkness of his basement praying in a dead
language. The tattooed Rarity was unaware of his presence or at least she was
doing an excellent job at pretending she was. As she continued to pray, he came
to the realization that many of the "dead" languages share a common ancient
root. He remembered the ancient language that was discarded long ago when
reapers adopted the native tongues of the souls they reaped. He remembered her
telling him that only Rarities were taught the ancient ways, including
language, as they were the Choicest Fruit of the Goddess...
                                    xxxxxx
"What do you mean by Choicest Fruit, Lovely?" the legend asked with curious
wonder in his phosphorescent eyes while he drifted soft kisses down the
Empath's neck and up again until their lips met in a soft kiss.
"It's nothing sexual if that's what you're implying," the lavender female
replied. "Depending on who you ask, Judeo-Christian faith puts 'choicest fruit'
in a sexual context in the 'Song of Solomon' as a metaphor for the hidden
place. Many faiths who worship primarily male deities alone or as part of their
pantheon also use the phrase in a sexual context more often than not. The only
exception being the 'Hail Mary' prayer which is the closest non sexualized
meaning of 'Choicest Fruit' in the Christian faith, however, it is inaccurate
as it describes giving birth, whereas in my faith, it means Rarities are
exalted above all others of our race. We are also monotheistic, but we worship
a female deity, so our vices and virtues differ greatly from those who worship
the False One."
"You mean the Divine, or God as humans call Him?" the mortician questioned.
"Precisely. I am also very well aware they feel the same about the Goddess."
Mismatched eyes flashed with hidden zealotry.
The mortician nuzzled his cheek on the girl's head. "Go on," he encouraged with
a kiss to her temple.
"We, Rarities, that is, are versed in the ancient language of our people from
the age of one, and sacred temple rites from the age of three. The Goddess'
Sacred Words are taught to us the day we are brought to temple onward. All
Rarities are biologically female, yet we possess attributes of both genders,
hence the mismatched eyes. We're born sterile, and as a trade off have life
spans that stretch to near immortality, freedom to choose any mate of any
gender or race, or completely abstain. Technically, social laws still apply to
us since the whole of our realm became more secular than it was in years past,
but we easily live above them and no one dares defy us for fear of incurring
the Goddess' Divine Wrath. All Rarities are devoted to the Goddess, even the
one who claimed a demon as her own." The female grinned proudly at her remark.
"Yes, or perhaps the demon loved her in return, my dear," the reaper said with
a knowing grin. He hooked an arm around the weapon's tiny waist and held her
tightly against him, letting his free hand travel the contours of her petite
body. "Just as I love you," he whispered as his nails lightly slid down his
lover's throat, across her clavicle, and back up again.
                                    xxxxxx
The legend remembered that night well. He shook the distracting thoughts from
his head and continued focusing on the praying woman in the darkness. He could
recognize some words in the melodic chant since they shared the same root as
his long dead language from eons past. The legendary reaper listened closely to
her soft, enchanting voice praying in the captivating chant, being able to
discern something in regard to "forgiveness", "accepting Her Bastard Children
as they are neither demon nor are they Death."
*She must be referring to Yurei.*
"Coexisting and merging"..."evolving"..."Her Bastard Child is One with the
Choicest Fruit and has freely learned love"...
*Herself...the fruition of the eugenics project.*
..."Legendary Death"..."prototype, ex nihilo, Adrian Crevan"..."True Death of
Legendary Beauty"...
*Heehee...even with all these scars.*
..."We are One"..."never sever"...
*Us?*
The female abruptly stood up, catching the reaper by surprise. He shrank as far
back in the shadows as he could, hoping he hadn't been seen. She turned away
from him, hair whirling outward like silky lavender banners, and began a new
slow, monotone chant. She repeated the same rhythmic words over again, growing
slightly louder in volume each time, and with each new round a layer of
clothing was shed. By the fifth recitation, she was standing completely nude in
the dark basement, chanting unrecognizable words as the mortician watched the
numbers on the tattooed clock align themselves to their correct positions and
hands set themselves to the appointed hour upon the divine light emanating from
the blue gray eye. The clock face blinked, sending the frozen skeletons on the
small of her back into a mirthful, deadly dance as her chanting grew louder.
*The Danse Macabre*
The lavender Rarity opened her eyes, flooding the room with bright blue and
green light. She tipped her head back, chanting the unrecognizable words at an
absurdly loud volume, and began levitating.
*That's not a prayer, it's an incantation.*
Something resembling an inhuman howl, a scream
*Hers?*
muffled within, and a soothing voice whispering ancient words of love, wisdom,
and vengeance emanated from the lavender light flowing into the petite. As
sudden as the communing started it stopped. The woman remained suspended in
midair a moment longer in the stillness then fell to the basement floor with a
soft thud. Ordinarily, the silver reaper would have prevented her from falling,
but in this case, he wasn't sure if his intrusion on this blessed event would
anger the girl until he noticed her barely breathing and motionless on the cold
ground.
*To hell with this. I'll incur her wrath later.*
The reaper rushed out of the shadows and carried the Rarity upstairs to their
shared room, hoping she was unharmed by her ritual. Her back felt like flames
in his arms, and he found himself wondering just how the hell did she get the
back piece anyway.
=I know you were there, Legendary Death.=
                                    xxxxxx
"How are you feeling, Lovely?" the silver legend asked as he slid his nails
through lavender tresses.
The female moaned lowly. "Much better since you're doing that. Mmm...I love
your wonderful nails." She leaned her head back as the reaper licked and
nibbled her throat. "Have you noticed we spend more time together with our
clothes off than we do with our clothes on? By no means am I complaining. If I
had my way, I'd keep you naked all day."
 
"I don't see how that's a problem," the distracted reaper mumbled, working his
teasing mouth down to the Rarity's breasts.
She squeaked at the unexpected contact and grabbed a handful of silver. "D-
don't you think it would be a little disturbing to make your guests beautiful
in the nude?"
Piercing green eyes met hers. "I almost forgot, I do have a job. Hehehe."
"You ass! You're a madman, you know that!" the female teased, pulling her
silver love into a deep, passionate kiss.
"So I've been told. I want to braid your hair," the mortician purred, his lips
lightly brushing the side of her neck. He sunk his fingers deep into the
weapon's abundant lavender tresses, grazing her sensitive scalp with long,
ebony talons. "You are positively delectable, my Lovely." His long fingers
knotted themselves in lavender roots, eliciting a pleasured yelp from winter
weaponry. "Such perfect beauty," he murmured against her lips.
"Oh Goddess, Adrian," the bare winter sighed as her scar adorned lover
feathered his nails over the naked expanse of her back. Her small body arched
into his, flesh on flesh, delicate fingers wove themselves through thick silver
as she stole the reaper's lips in a fire inspiring kiss. "Make me beautiful,
Adrian. Give me something fit for a queen."
"A queen is a lowly peasant compared to you, my dear." The mortician trailed
soft kisses down her neck and in between her breasts. She giggled softly at the
wispy feel of silver strands dancing on her thighs. "Ticklish, are we?" A
devilish grin crept over the reaper's face as he suddenly turned the girl
around, pinning her back against him. He plunged his long fingers into the
experiment's lavender locks, relishing the feeling of it sliding between his
fingers. He nuzzled his face in her hair, deeply inhaling the scent of mimosa
blossoms. The silver haired reaper was fully aroused by the way the weapon's
plentiful lavender locks splayed out over her petite frame. "You are mine,
Lovely," he purred as his skilled hands wove a lattice work of lavender at the
crown of his lover's head, leaving the rest wild and free from the tapering
point down the center of her back.
*She truly is exalted above all others. My Perfect Beauty.*
The reaper's soft kisses slowly traveled from her shoulder up the side of her
neck where it lingered just behind her right ear, mercilessly teasing her. A
tumbler in the Rarity's secret place turned in its lock as the mortician
smoothly caressed her skin, lightly running his ebony talons over the feminine
contours of her body. Ever the perfect gentleman, he remained mindful of the
violent marring of flesh on her inner thighs and refrained from touching them
without her consent. "I want you, Lovely," the silver reaper purred darkly,
pulling the female closer against him.
"I know, and I want you, Adrian," the lavender haired woman replied. She could
feel his want making itself known as he held her closer.
"Stella, I want all of you. I want to take you as you have taken me," Silver
Death softly insisted in his seductive, dark, velvet voice the Rarity found
almost as entrancing as his acidic eyes. "That is, if you will permit me." He
nuzzled the lavender lady's neck awaiting her answer.
A new, different glow took over her mismatched eyes as she slowly nodded her
consent to surrender herself to the reaper.
"Are you sure, Lovely?"
"I am. Just don't..." she trailed off.
~Don't harm me.~
"I know," he replied, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Whatever you wish, I
shall do, my love."
The shy weapon turned to face her silver love, a strange glow emanating from
her strange eyes. "Take me as I am," she said softly with averted eyes.
The legend cupped her face in his hands, the strange captivating innocence
brought back an old memory he forced himself to forget.
"One day, Fate will bring us together again..."
"Such strange eyes, my love. The most beautiful, perfect eyes I've ever seen,
my lovely one. You have such a strange, alluring innocence that I've seen
before from your eyes, but I can't remember when exactly it was that I saw it.
It's almost as if you were trying to tell me something you, yourself didn't
understand." The mesmerized legend's heart skipped a beat when his mate
delicately traced the scar across his face. "Oh gods, Stella, I love you, my
perfect beauty."
"Adrian, I've always been told my eyes are strange by your kind, and always by
the ancients. Why?"
"That's a secret," the enchanted reaper stated, taking his Lovely into his arms
in a gentle kiss. "I want to take you as you are, my love, not as you were
engineered to be. You are a Rarity, a treasure, my treasure." With that, he
curled one arm around the Rarity's waist and let the other travel up the
tattooed length of her back, trailing black talons along the way until his
spindly fingers nestled themselves in her lavender locks. The petite's
obsession ignited as she lost her small arms beneath a waterfall of silver,
twining delicate fingers in at the roots as their lips collided in a passionate
kiss that was special only to them.
The lavender lady hadn't realized she'd been maneuvered onto her back until she
opened her brightly glowing eyes to find herself staring up at a pair of
piercing green reaper's eyes. The owner of those stunning eyes caressed her
pale cheek with such tenderness and care. "I love you, Stella," the man
surrounding them in a curtain of silver whispered. All she could do was nod in
response with wide, glowing eyes. For some reason, the way he looked at her
combined with his tender touch made her feel as though her innocence had never
been lost. The reaper seemed understanding of her wide eyed silence as a warm
smile graced his lips. Before she knew it, the legend descended upon her in the
sweetest kiss she had ever experienced, literally taking her breath away.
"Lovely, you might want to breathe now. Out of the both of us, I'm the only one
who can live without doing so. Hehehe."
Once again, the weapon could only nod in wide eyed silence and release the
breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Adrian...I...I want you," the
flustered woman breathed.
Always more than happy to oblige, the mortician chuckled and captured his
mate's lips in another euphoric kiss while letting a clawed hand explore the
contours of her body. Next, his lips followed by his teeth in soft kisses and
nibbles along the woman's neck drew pleasured purrs until he got to his
favorite spot. As he sank his sharp teeth into that certain spot on her neck,
he sank into her, truly claiming her as his own. He moved slowly at first,
softly caressing her legs as he drew them up to his chest. The Rarity's eyes
fluttered closed, translucent skin glowed over mismatched eyes. "Adrian..." the
lavender winter breathed. A pleasured yelp escaped her as her lover gradually
let his hunger take control, that certain piercing unlocking her secret places
in a delightfully imaginative way. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around
the silver reaper and arched her body up as if to take back control. She gasped
and her eyes opened wide to the phosphorescent hunger of the legendary reaper
pinning her to the bed by the wrists. Her wide, glowing eyes were trapped in
his possessive gaze. His long fingers laced through hers, refusing to give up
control.
"You are mine, Lovely," the reaper growled.
Lavender ice cried out in ecstasy as her silver lover tantalized her senses
with soft touches contrasting with the relentless power of his approaching
climax. The weapon's eyes lit up like solar flares as she shrieked her lover's
name while he mercilessly snapped his hips, unlocking her secret places. "What
am I to you?" the mortician growled. He snapped his hips at just the right
angle, unlocking the secrets to her secret places.
"Oh Goddess! Adrian" the reaper's lover screamed. "You are mine!"
"What are you to me?" His piercing eyes bored into hers, trapping her like
prey. The silver reaper's clawed fingers laced through hers once again as he
stared at her with his hypnotic eyes. It was just the two of them behind a
curtain of silver, and nothing else in all of existence mattered. The female
was literally lost in her lover's eyes. Her glow was soft, but strangely
bright, pupils dilated, and the trapped gaze willingly unmoving. Aside from the
luminosity, the look in her eyes was identical to souls throwing themselves at
him for the reaping. "What are you to me, Lovely?" he repeated, his dark,
velvet voice ghosting over her parted lips. The softness of his voice played
the hero to the villainous power fueling the snapping of his hips.
"I-I..." Her eyes widened as she gasped when that certain piercing found
another delightful way to unlock her secret places. "I am yours!" she called
out, tensing her whole body as the silver legend became the key to unlocking
all of her secrets. "I am yours."
A predatory grin spread over the reaper's lips and an animalistic
possessiveness gleamed in his electric eyes that was frighteningly alluring.
"You are mine, Stella," he growled as he descended upon his favorite spot on
her neck, feeding the girl's secret hunger with his sharp bites and kisses.
"I love you, Adrian," the euphoria hazed Rarity whispered.
"As I love you." And with a feral growl, Legendary Death's claim on his Rarity
was complete.
                                    xxxxxx
"Adrian, why were you spying on me?" the petite inquired shakily in an effort
to regain control of her senses.
"Hehe. I was looking for you, my love. I noticed that your native language and
the ancient language of my kind share a common root." The silver haired man
paused, seemingly lost in thought. "I'm the only one that's been around long
enough to remember a language long dead unless some of the other fossils kept
up their knowledge. Hehe." He shrugged slightly. "The way you speak your native
language has always captivated me, my dear. It was not my intention to intrude,
I assure you." The reaper moved his bangs out of his eyes and turned his
companion's face toward his. "If I meant any offense, then I ask my Lovely's
forgiveness."
~Eyes. Breathtaking, beautiful eyes that never lie.~
The Aurora Borealis glowed against dark skies of the deadly ice storm as she
stared, transfixed by the legend's stunning eyes. "O-ok..." she quietly
stuttered. "Were you afraid?"
"Yes, at the end," the silver haired man admitted. "You were barely conscious,
your skin was burning up, especially your back, it was like touching fire. I
couldn't leave you down there alone, so I brought you up here." She turned
around again to face him. "I never want to lose you," the reaper whispered,
sounding as if he was on the verge of tears. He held the dead of winter in a
loving embrace and affectionately nuzzled her cheek with his. "I love you so
much, Stella." He ran his hand through broken lavender lattice work. "My dear,
all that work only to be destroyed by our lovemaking."
"It was worth it," the Rarity snickered as the mortician deftly deconstructed
lavender lattice work. She stole a quick kiss as his nails grazed her scalp. "I
love your wonderful nails." She leaned into the mortician as he efficiently
picked lavender locks. He tilted her head up, stealing a quick kiss from her,
using it as an excuse to weave a braid identical to his in his lavender love's
long, pastel tresses. That look of the purest form of devotion borne of a love
so deep no force known or unknown could sever it stared down at the lavender
petite's strange innocence within softly bright glowing eyes. It was that look
that always made her heart stop. "I love you so much, my Perfect Beauty."
"We will never sever, Adrian," the painted snow vowed. "No matter what, we will
never sever." She kissed the reaper sweetly and lightly ran her fingers over
the thin, lavender plait. "I don't have to see it to know it's beautiful."
Chapter End Notes
     Sexy time brought to you by Nero. "My Eyes" is a fitting song for
     that scene.
     Also, if Undertaker dedicated a song to my OC, it would be "Cult" by
     Skinny Puppy. I fucking love Skinny Puppy.
***** Circling *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts/communication =
     Sorry it's been a while. I just had a birthday, and I was doing my
     celebratory birthday ritual of being a complete lazy ass. Anyway,
     thanks for the reads and kudos.
     So, who's ready for a *tiny* glimpse into the emotional turmoil of
     William T. Spears? *evil grin*
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Loneliness was his Achilles heel. The Rarity recalled how close he was to
breaking down at the thought of losing her and once again being condemned to a
life of loneliness. Each loss he endured stripped away part of his sanity one
layer at a time, and it was she who kept that last bit of it from escaping his
grasp. The reaper knew she was mortal, but was ecstatic when he learned of her
extremely long lifespan. She looked down at her slumbering lover with a soft,
contented glow in her mismatched eyes. Reapers were well known for their
possessive natures, but his was different. To him, she wasn't property or a
prize to be won, nor was she an object, rather she was a treasure
~His treasure.~
that was too precious to be stolen and too powerful to be locked away.
Incidentally, she felt the same way about him without the need for a possessive
nature as it was simply not the way of her people.
The legend stirred in his sleep, a contented smile plastered to his scarred
face. The experiment's eyes roamed the reaper's body, indulging in the lean
musculature, long limbs, random placement of scars, various array of piercings,
long fingers tipped by onyx talons,
~Oh my Goddess! Those wonderful nails!~
the perfectly angled planes of his face, his long silver hair, and those
piercing green eyes. She could abandon everything and live in them for all
eternity. Some women would be put off by the mortician's never ending
affection, but, as a Rarity, she thrived on it. She had been starved of the
affection her kind-Rarities-neeed for most of her life, and to lose his...That
was her remaining fear, her Achilles heel. To lose him would mean starvation,
and after all she'd been through, she refused to starve again. She combed
shaggy silver from the sleeping man's face nestled on her lap recalling their
gluttonous indulgence with each other throughout the night and into the
morning. She bent down and softly kissed her lover's lips. "We will never
sever, Adrian," the vow reaffirmed softly into the kiss.
A clawed hand gently cupped the female's cheek. "No, we won't, Lovely," the
mortician mumbled sleepily, returning the kiss.
                                    xxxxxx
"You fucking pervert! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the enraged
female shrieked at her fellow Empath. "Those aren't for your personal use. If
the boss finds you fucking around with the clones, we're both dead!"
"Can it, Emily!" the frustrated male huffed as he yanked his trousers back on
without bothering to clean himself up first. "I didn't fuck it, per se." He
smirked at the lavender clone as he cleaned off its hand with a moist cloth.
"It was just getting to know me a bit better, if you get my drift." Wheezing
chuckles escaped the eugenicist.
"Still, Carlton, you're going to ruin the whole project because you can't keep
your dick in your pants," the female protested.
Menacing blue eyes glowed at the green eyed accuser. "What did I tell you about
using my real name, Emily?"
The abnormally tall female Empath stood toe to toe with the shorter male with
an intimidating green glow in her eyes. "I'll start calling you 'Doc' when you
earn the title. Until then, you're a fraud since I'm the only one here with
legitimate credentials, and you don't have your Goddess forsaken goons here
anymore to cover your sorry ass. I've had enough of your bullshit for a
thousand lifetimes. Let's wrap this shit up and leave." The albino's green eyes
blazed maliciously at the other Empath. "Seriously, it's ridiculous having to
deal with your perversion."
For the first time in all the years they had worked together, the blue eyed
Empath felt genuinely intimidated by his green eyed colleague. The furious
green glow in her eyes meant business. In fact, she was all business. Getting
her to smile or laugh was like rendering blood from a turnip. On second
thought, the possibility of a bleeding turnip popping into existence was far
more likely than a ghost of a ghost of a smile gracing the albino's sharp
features. Even the stern Dispatch manager managed to show a ghostly smirk a
couple of times in the past. The blue eyed pervert conceded to his coworker's
demand for the time being and kept the meeting strictly business. "Any changes
with my pretty prototype, eh Emily?"
The female eugenicist narrowed her eyes in cold suspicion at the other. "Aside
from her evolution, none worth reporting, however, the rate of her evolution is
unknown as it was not an intent of the eugenics project."
"I see. So, this Yurei we fused her with not only merged with her
consciousness, it merged with her as a whole." Blue eyes lit up with cruel
intentions. "How delightful! Now that I have so many blank slates to play with.
Oh, this will be such a fun time! So many toys!"
"Fuck you, Carlton. Let's stay focused," the female huffed in annoyance. "I
have already synthesized enough serum to subdue her. If my feeling is correct,
'The Prototype's' power will continue to grow exponentially. We must capture
her now while I have potent enough serum on hand. If we continue to wait, the
serum will be useless no matter how high the dosage. We must inform Mr. Gaines
that enough serum has been produced to subdue her with some to spare."
The male tapped his chin in thought. "Very well. You meet with the boss and
tell him we're ready."
                                    xxxxxx
There was still no change in plans, Undertaker was still up for execution. His
black haired superior was more smug than ever and their gray haired superior
colder and harsher than ever, but something seemed off about his response as he
glared poisonous wrath at both subordinates.
If I had my way, I'd have all of you reaped for what you've done. Nevertheless,
the decision is final.
"Spears, it's time to stop being so sentimental. There's nothing you can do
about it. That legendary deserter isn't going to be pardoned. I know how you
really feel about Crevan. It's written all over your face," the smug manager
pressed the irritated man wielding pruning shears. "It runs even deeper than
admiration, doesn't it?"
"Where did Hesse get that?" the red faced manager huffed, desperately trying to
change subjects.
"Oh, the ear piercing? I'm surprised you haven't noticed it after all these
years," the pony tailed manager chuckled. "She gave it to him, and he's never
removed it even after losing her. I'd be careful to never mention loss around
him, Spears. It would be most entertaining to see that little guy tear you limb
from limb, but I still need you around, so just obey your orders."
"Yes, sir," the lower ranked manager replied curtly as the higher ranking male
casually exited the room.
"You know, she was really special to him, and when he lost her he lost his
passion for everything. Only his blood lust remains, but you know what they say
about us fossils as we age," the black haired reaper smirked smugly. "Get the
fuck out of here and do your job. Bring me 'The Prototype'," the high ranking
reaper ordered from the open doorway, laughing at his bowing subordinate.
The irate manager stormed out of the conference room under orders to inform his
team of field agents that "The Prototype" had to be captured and brought to a
secure location within twenty-four hours or there would be dire consequences
for himself and his team. The uptight man was not one to throw away his career
even if it meant saving the life of the legendary reaper and man he more than
just idolized. His black haired superior was right, his feelings for the silver
haired man ran far deeper than admiration no matter how much he outwardly
denied it. His desperate pleas to prevent the legend's execution spoke volumes
coming from him. Had it been coming from someone like Sutcliff or Knox, not a
single eyebrow would be raised, but from him, William T. Spears? That just
didn't happen. No. It. Just. Did. Not. Happen. The irritating noise his gloves
made as he squeezed the pole of his Death Scythe led to a chain reaction of
grit teeth and a twitching eyebrow as the gray haired reaper's words echoed in
his head once again.
If I had my way, I'd have all of you reaped for what you have done...
The pruner wielder briskly strode into his office without acknowledging his
secretary and slammed the door shut behind him, startling the four reapers
waiting inside. Cutting to the chase, the manager inquired of the foursome in
an almost accusatory tone if they had found the rogue yet, to which all four
reapers answered in the negative. The day shift handed in the only honest
reports, whereas the night shift handed in a shadowed version of the truth. The
manager placed a small metal case on his desk. "Let's get to the point, agents.
I have just been informed that 'The Prototype' is evolving at an alarming rate,
therefore, it is of the utmost urgency that it be brought back to our realm
alive along with Undertaker within twenty-four hours. Failure to do so will
result in dire consequences for all of us."
"What do you mean by 'dire consequences', Spears-senpai?" asked the confused
young trainee.
"I am not privy to that information, Knox. I was simply informed that
punishment will be severe."
"Oh."
"Now then, a serum has been developed to subdue 'The Prototype," the black
haired reaper stated matter of factly as he opened the metal box. A syringe
loaded with red liquid and a spare vial filled with the same solution was
securely tucked inside. "It will render 'The Prototype' temporarily powerless.
Depending on how much it has evolved, the serum may render it unconscious, but
will not kill it."
"What about Undertaker, Mr. Spears?" the mousy haired reaper asked. "According
to our observations he is extremely devoted to her-"
"They're extremely devoted to each other, Al," the tall blond interrupted.
"Yes, Eric's right. Undertaker and 'The Prototype' are extremely devoted to
each other. He will not hesitate to kill anyone who harms her. It was no
ordinary mate selection between the two of them, sir."
The manager glared at the frail intelligence officer across the desk from him.
"Explain to us what you mean, Humphries, and I suggest that you be specific.
May I remind you that its kind have a singular belief in a goddess and many of
its kind are prone to fanaticism."
"Will, she hasn't shown any signs of fanaticism," the red reaper stated. "It
would be in the reports."
"I'm not accusing it of fanaticism, Sutcliff!" the irritated man snapped. "Mr.
Humphries, please explain yourself."
The petite reaper nervously glanced at his coworkers and scowling boss. "Thank
you for your insight, Mr. Spears," he began. "What I was meaning to say
regarding Undertaker claiming her as his mate is that it is the Will of the
Higher Up. I'm sure if you were to ask 'The Prototype', she'd attribute it to
whatever goddess she believes in while Undertaker would simply agree with us."
"No, he would say it was Fate," the redhead mused. "He's all too aware of their
differences, but wise enough to know there are other possibilities. And it's
not just because he's supposedly blindly devoted to her either."
"Sutcliff!"
"No, senpai is right," the mowing reaper jumped in. "She feels the same way
about him; that Fate brought them together."
The others nodded in agreement.
"Aye, boss," the tall blond affirmed. "With that out in the open, it begs the
question: how do we get Undertaker to come with us when we take his lady?"
The manager inwardly smirked as he absorbed his subordinates' input. "We don't.
He'll follow once he finds out that thing is missing."
"Aye, divide and conquer. Good idea, boss." The Scotsman smirked.
The manager closed the metal case on his desk. "Slingby, Humphries, I will be
accompanying you on your shift for obvious reasons. Knox, Sutcliff, both of you
are dismissed until required." All five reapers stood and exited the office. "I
believe we each have our respective duties to attend. Debriefing will occur
precisely at 8:30 pm unless otherwise specified. Do NOT be late!" With that,
the manager turned on his heel and marched down the corridor with the
terminally ill reaper and his rugged lover following close behind.
"I think he meant you, senpai," the short blond grumbled when the trio was out
of earshot.
"Fuck you, Ronnie." Both reapers chuckled, attempting to suppress the feeling
of dread washing over them in ever increasing waves. All they could do was
futilely hope the fair haired couple could somehow escape before it was too
late.
                                    xxxxxx
A feeling of dread knotted in the pit of the weapon's stomach. The mortician
was immersed with guests today, none of which were her work. She sensed three
reapers approaching the shop's general vicinity, but still remaining at a safe
distance. Only one of them was familiar to her, whereas the other two were not.
~One of them is terminally ill.~
=Dying Death is infected with Thorns. Scottish Death harbors within him secret
souls in a most futile attempt to save Dying Death. Unknowingly cruel to
prolong the inevitable. Dying Death will succumb.=
The familiar reaper the experiment sensed was one she never wanted see again.
Her body visibly shuddered in fear as her mind unconsciously reached out to her
mate's at the thought of the reaper who regarded her as nothing other than a
repulsive object while she was trapped inside the living hell of the eugenics
program; the reaper who showed no remorse for the grave sins he committed
against her, nor did he show compassion even once for the same grave sins
others committed against her; the reaper who mercilessly killed her guardian
and only father figure she had ever known, and coldly stared at his Cinematic
Records, quietly lambasting the ancient reaper for his alleged treason while
she and her dead lover were forced to watch; the same cold, cruel bastard that
blamed her for...
The mortician held the lady in black in a comforting embrace. "Lovely, what's
wrong?" he asked so softly her eyes inadvertently glowed the way they did that
day. He looked down at her, his piercing eyes brimming with compassion.
~William T. Spears.~
The experiment buried her face in the legend's chest, holding him tight, and
let her pent up pain and sadness from a past she desperately yearned to forget
fall like a torrential rain from her mismatched eyes. The silver haired man
carried her to a nearby coffin and sat down with the petite curled up in his
lap crying and muttering strange, fearful phrases in the language of her
people. It had many months since she'd broken down out of fear, yet the silver
reaper was there showing the same devotion to her without question, without
complaint, without fail. She, of course, would do the same for him, or die
trying.
"I don't want to go back there," the winter weapon whimpered.
"I know, Lovely," the mortician replied, sliding black nails through lavender
silk. "I'll protect you, but if for any reason you are taken from me, I will
find you and I will bring you back. You are mine and I love you so much. I want
you to be safe and happy."
"Adrian, the time is approaching. When my hour strikes, I want you to reap me.
I don't care who you have to kill, I want you alone to do it," the Rarity's
sadness grew ominous with her request.
The reaper balked at his lover's request. "You're merged with an Ikiryo,
Lovely. Not even I have the power to break that kind of bond."
"I will find a way, my love. The Goddess revealed a great many things to me,"
she said solemnly. "I never want you to be lonely. I always want you to have
the love and understanding of someone who can appreciate you for what you do
and who you are. I'm glad I could be that One until The End comes." The Rarity
took his hands in hers and looked him straight in the eyes, the strange
innocence softly glowing from bright emerald and sapphire eyes.
*Now I remember where I've seen that light...over and over, but I remember
now!*
"Adrian, we will never sever. No matter what. We. Will. Never. Sever. I love
you." The female lowered her head, blushing sheepishly. "I suppose, in a way, I
always have."
The silver reaper lifted the blushing Rarity's head up, his acidic eyes locking
on to her brilliant jewels set in darkness. "Fate brought us together, Lovely.
I've seen you many times since the day I retired, and always with the same
strange, beautiful, innocent hunger glowing in your eyes. Do you understand
what you were trying to tell me since that day?"
"The same thing you told me: 'One day, fate will bring us together.' In Hell,
that assurance began to lose its meaning as I lost hope that I would soon see
the next day, let alone that One." Delicate fingers twirled the little silver
braid absently as glistening tears returned with quiet vengeance. "You aren't
angry with me?"
"How could I be? I am just as guilty as forgetting certain things too. It's
funny how Fate works, isn't it?" The mortician nuzzled the lavender ice
affectionately. "Don't cry anymore, Lovely. You know it breaks my heart to see
you cry."
"Tell me I'm not an object, Adrian."
"Lovely, you're always a woman to me, and never an object. You are my treasure,
not my toy. You are my Perfect Beauty, not a prized possession. You are you, my
love, it's your heart that belongs to me until you decide to walk away," the
silver haired mortician softly reassured.
"Thank you. You have no idea how much those words mean to me, and that you have
always been so devoted. I don't have other words to describe it in my language.
We are One as She intended and happy as we intended." The experimental beauty
smiled at her silver love and kissed him with the sweet gentleness that always
made his ancient heart skip several beats.
Outside, unbeknownst to their intended targets, three reapers were circling,
closing in on the dark mortuary, like hungry sharks preparing to attack while
the two lovers inside had their guards down.
Chapter End Notes
     I am such a tease.
     If I had my way, I'd hit William in the face with his Death Scythe
     because he's mean to Grell all the time. Then I'd give Grell a hug
     and braid her hair. Grell is so pretty! *squee*
***** Stolen *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts/communication =
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for reading, and my apologies for the slow updates. I'm
     currently working on the first draft to the multi chap follow up to
     this story as well as jumping into some one shots for the series that
     have yet to be completed because I wind up going back to the multi
     chap, so it's been hectic.
     *clears throat* This chapter contains suicide via mind control,
     references to past sexual abuse, and major character death. ***You
     have been warned***
     So, who's ready to see more tiny cracks appear in William T. Spears'
     shell? The ever so tiny cracks, they are there. You just have to know
     where to look.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The rogue female snuck into the darkened lab while her perverted colleague was
out doing who knows what with their boss. Two dozen unconscious clones of war
were securely held in place by magnetized bonds to their respective chambers
while various machines monitored their vital signs. Their mismatched eyes
didn't glow beneath their pale eyelids the way an authentic Rarity's did. The
disgusted scientist had a small window of time to work while the security
cameras reset themselves.
"No time to admire the forgeries," she mumbled.
With swiftness and efficiency exceeding that of a demon's, the green eyed
scientist injected a clear liquid into each clone's IV bag and slipped out of
the darkened room without a trace with mere seconds to spare before the cameras
completed the reset cycle. The Empath casually walked back to her work station
after inconspicuously disposing of all evidence linking her to the sabotage of
Project 0. A smug smirk morphed into a sad smile on the double agent's face as
she looked fondly at an old photograph of a tiny girl with glowing eyes and
lavender hair. A tall man dressed in leather with a long dark braid and
circular wire frame glasses held the brightly smiling girl and her green haired
companion.
+Marcus, you bastard reaper, I miss you.+
The man in the picture took in the girls in an effort to save them, but to save
her...
+My eye. I knew before all of it started. It was like so long ago with her when
she was slain by the bastard with the sharp sword, but she and I will never
sever. I warned Marcus, but he didn't heed me.+
The eugenicist snapped the watch face closed, hiding the memory for a little
while longer and resumed mixing the formulas needed to subdue and extract the
Ikiryo. "All I have to do is take a little bit of the Formless One and send it
to those fucking frauds, and it will be poison to them and they will be
destroyed. There is only one Conduit." The albino female grimaced as she
glanced at her watch. "Shit, ten minutes til lock down." She hastily gathered
the required materials for reversing all the harm done over the past forty some
odd years to take with her to the makeshift laboratory in her small apartment
as she cleaned up her work station. The time had finally come for the albino
female to begin serving her penance by way of vengeance.
+May the Goddess forgive my wrongdoings.+
                                    xxxxxx
The mortician returned to his task of dressing up a recent murder victim. If it
hadn't been for the overwhelming number of guests showing up at his front door,
he'd have more time to devote to his icy beauty than he'd already allotted.
Aside from his humming and shuffling about, he noticed the shop was pretty
quiet, but figured that his Lovely got bored and went upstairs to their room on
account of his heavy workload. Unbeknownst to him, the female vanished from
within the shop to face off against the three surrounding reapers that she
sensed earlier that morning.
                                    xxxxxx
=Thorns=
The petite reaper screamed in agony as his illness came to life within his
body. Blood trickled down his arms, dripping to the rooftop below his feet as
the fabric of his suit ripped beneath the spiny protrusions escaping from their
prison of flesh. The others were powerless to come to his aid as they were
trapped in mid air by the lady in black's sheer will power. Her darkened pits
bored straight into the small reaper; her voice, dark, melodic, and
disturbingly sensual as it sliced through his subconscious.
~Your lover harbors impure souls. You think your so called neutrality makes you
an arbiter of purity? You have eyes that lie. Your compassion is a lie. It
exists because you will die. Your beautiful molten gold and grass green eyes
lie.~
=Thorns.=
"Eric!" the sickly reaper shrieked, holding out a desperate hand to his reaper
lover. "Oh God! What's happening to me?" Terrified shrieks rang out as he gaped
at the growing spiny protrusions twisting their way out of their host's arm. He
lifted his other arm to inspect it for confirmation of the truth, and indeed he
was literally being torn apart by the Thorns of Death.
"Alan, hold on! It'll be ok!" the thorny reaper's lover called back
desperately.
~No, it won't, liar. You built his hopes up on a myth. A pure soul is one that
doesn't exist among humans.~
"I suppose you're so pure, then, aren't ya?" the Scotsman angrily retorted.
~I am as the Goddess determines me to be.~
=Thorns.=
Flesh ripped apart, blood flowed freely as the twisting thorns dramatically
increased in size. The shredded reaper's howling agony turned into pleas of
mercy.
=THORNS!=
The thorny spikes twisted hard and fast, leaving the mousy haired reaper a
mangled mess on the cusp of death.
~I show no mercy to those who objectify me. I show no mercy to those who take
what belongs to me. If you think you deserve mercy, then you know what you must
do.~
Getting the hint, the petite reaper summoned his Death Scythe, and with what
little strength he had left, impaled himself.
"No! Alan! No!" the burly Scotsman screamed. "What the hell are ya doin' ya
crazy bitch?"
=Consume.=
~How does it feel to believe a myth as though it were fact? How does it feel to
betray your own race? To act as vermin do, as a thief of souls?
=Consume.=
~How does it feel to betray the only one who ever loved you unconditionally?
Your cruelty prolonged his suffering. That is no way to treat a lover.~ The
petite's dark, airy voice sliced through the tall blond's head like a razor
blade.
Tears sprung to the burly man's face. "Alan," he whimpered. "I-I didn't know it
was a myth."
=Consume.=
~Beautiful sunny yellow and forest green eyes that lie to the world around you.
The souls within you consume you from the inside out seeking freedom from their
host with the eyes that lie.~
=Consume.=
The cold experiment looked beside the devastated reaper slowly being consumed
by the trapped souls within and into the cold, cruel eyes of his boss.
~William T. Spears, we meet again, you filthy piece of shit. You stole
everything from me. You wronged me. It was you who made me feel shame when
those of my race don't know that feeling. There's no word for it in our
language, but you managed to break me. You marred me with your violence, you
vile son of a bitch! Your eyes lie! Your ugly eyes spew hatred and lies!~
"I most certainly did not touch a vile creature like you," the manager stated
coldly.
"Yes you did! You stabbed me with that strange weapon in your hand over and
over again next to my hidden place in the summer of my seventeenth year!" the
Rarity yelled. Her otherworldly accent clearly irritated the chronically irate
manager even more as she hurled more accusations at him. "You and those sick
fucks dare defile me? I am a Rarity. I am Her Choicest Fruit. You are shit
compared to me. All of you are shit compared to me. The Goddess will have Her
vengeance."
=Consume.=
"Boss?" the blond looked at him with pained eyes, weeping blood, questioning
the girl's claim.
The unstable weapon's dark, airy voice made a quick stab into the slowly dying
reaper's mind. ~Let them go.~
Somehow, understanding what the Rarity meant, the male summoned his hacksaw and
plunged it into his liquefying insides, giving birth to more Bastard Children
of the Goddess, and reuniting with his lover in the next world.
The lavender haired woman's intense focus stayed on the stern pruner wielding
son of a bitch in front of her. The only thing that mattered to her was his
death. She would kill him for Marcus, for Mae, for the other Rarities, for her
mate, for her lost world, for the Goddess, but most of all for herself. "You
did this to me, William T. Spears!" the lavender project shouted in blinding
rage. "You took the only father I've ever known! You knew all the other
Rarities were being raped and tortured since we were little girls, but you only
looked down at us like we were repulsive garbage! You stabbed me over and over
again with your hideous weapon! You enjoyed every second of it! I could sense
how your lying eyes betrayed your neutral mask. You made me your object, you
tortured me! You knew! You blamed me for-"
The manager's hidden rage was close to exposing itself as the experiment got
closer to revealing the truth, however, he couldn't deny the charges put forth
so far. "I did no such thing!" he roared, abruptly cutting off the petite's
laundry list of sins committed against her. Forcing himself to contain his pent
up murderous thirst for revenge, the black haired reaper lowered his voice to a
cold, dead calm as he discreetly removed the syringe from the metal box.
"Marcus Jones was not your father. In fact, it was Undertaker who murdered
Marcus," the uptight reaper brazenly lied.
The petite glowered at the stoic liar. "How stupid do you think I am? My memory
wasn't erased you lying sack of demon shit. I know what I saw," the female
growled. "Marcus was like a father to me, and it was YOU who stole him, it was
YOU who killed him, not my Adrian!"
A ghost of a smirk appeared on the stoic reaper's face. "Oh, so, you flattered
him into telling you his real name?"
The Rarity's blackened eyes narrowed on their target. "Fate. We are One. I
belong to him as he belongs to me as the Goddess intended. I am not his
object."
"How do you know he's not lying to you?" the emotionless man questioned, trying
to replant seeds of doubt in the woman's heart. "Despite being the most
possessive out of all the reapers in existence, he does have a reputation of
leading people on with promises of love and affection, then discarding them
when he's bored of them."
"Because, out of all of your race, he has beautiful eyes that never lie. Out of
all of your race, you have filthy, ugly, lying eyes. To speak cruel words of a
man you adore. Not only are you a murderer, you're the worst kind of liar!" The
lady in black leaped at the black haired reaper, intent on ending him herself,
but a sharp pain radiated in her abdomen and spread throughout her body. Her
glowing blue and green eyes reappeared, then dulled before fluttering shut in a
haze of unconsciousness.
~ADRIAN!~
The stone faced reaper hoisted the lavender haired petite over his shoulder and
phased out of the mortal realm. Someone would need to pick up what was left of
his two subordinates before a fuss was raised, but for now, the main objective
had been achieved.
                                    xxxxxx
The mortician finally finished prepping the last body for the day. He still had
other guests that needed looking after, but their needs weren't as urgent as
the several he had prettied up today. He was exhausted and sorely missed the
company of his lover.
*It's been so quiet.*
He had heard yelling and commotion outside, but chocked it up to being on the
less pleasant side of London. One gets used to that sort of thing every day. "I
wonder where my Lovely could be hiding? Ehehehe." The silver haired man grinned
as he ascended the staircase in search of his lavender lover.
~ADRIAN!~
Her voice pierced his thoughts, then quickly evaporated.
*Lovely?*
The silver reaper had a sick feeling that something terrible happened to the
Rarity as he raced up the rear set of stairs leading to the rooftop. "Stella?"
Two mangled reapers laid out on the roof, impaled by their own Death Scythes.
What was left of the blond was putrid flesh clinging to brittle bones, and
beside him, his lover, a bloody thorn bush accented by little bits of flesh and
bone. The scent of a third reaper lingered in the air, but he was nowhere in
sight, nor was his Lovely. A glint of silver caught the mortician's eye. Upon
closer examination, he recognized the object as a syringe, but not one of his.
This particular model was much too advanced compared to his metal and glass
syringes. His acid green eyes went wide beneath his bangs in realization of
what just happened.
*The son of a bitch took her. She fought them, but that son of a bitch took
her.*
Wide eyes narrowed into an enraged glare as the legend summoned his Death
Scythe. A haunting, malicious grin made its home on the legendary reaper's
face. "No one takes what's mine. Ever." Legendary Death laughed maniacally as
he phased out of the mortal realm, prepared to show anyone who kept his mate
from him the meaning of true brutality.
*No one takes my Lovely from me and lives.*
Chapter End Notes
     I'm sorry Eric and Alan fans.
***** Scorn *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for taking a look at my super sexy gorefest. Yay! Much
     appreciated.
     This chapter contains itty bitty tiny spoilers for my upcoming multi
     chap. References to rape and sexual abuse are also contained in the
     chapter. ***You have been warned.***
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The black haired reaper glared at his subordinates sitting across from him in
his office. He drummed his fingers on his desk searching for the right words to
say regarding their fallen comrades. Adjusting his glasses, he calmly began,
"Agents Sutcliff and Knox, the 'Prototype' has successfully been captured and
is now in a secure location. Unfortunately, Agents Slingby and Humphries met
their ends fighting that monster." The manager clenched his jaw at the mention
of the prototype. "As you both are well aware by now, their records will not be
collectible. I shall be making my report to upper management presently. As of
now, you are no longer needed on this case. If there are no further questions,
you are dismissed. First, make sure you turn in your final field reports
regarding this case before resuming your normal duties as scheduled. Remember,
this case is highly classified and you are to speak of it to no one else." The
manager narrowed his eyes at his two remaining subordinates as he gave them the
stern warning. "If word gets out, I'll know who to blame, and there will be
harsh punishment."
"Spears-senpai," the two toned reaper hesitantly spoke. "Are Sutcliff-senpai
and I supposed to go collect the bodies?"
"No, Mr. Knox, I've already seen to it personally," the Dispatch manager
replied coolly.
"So, Will~iam, did our darling 'Prototype' put up a good fight against you,
too?" the redhead purred with fake flirtatiousness as she flipped her long,
blood red mane over her shoulder. "And do tell me where it was she fought the
three of you." Her catlike eyes shone with bloodlust as she donned a wide,
razor sharp grin.
The irritated reaper pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sutcliff, you have truly
perverse taste. Honestly."
"C'mon, William, tell me. Pleeeeaaasssseee, Will. I want to know." The red
reaper pouted and batted her long, red lashes, almost overdoing her flirty act.
"Fine, if it will shut you up and get you out of here sooner." The raven haired
reaper adjusted his glasses with an exasperated sigh. "It sensed us at
Undertaker's shop and fought us on the roof. It dove for me, but I used the
serum provided and knocked it out before any harm befell me. That is all I will
divulge."
"Spears-senpai, are you saying she tried to physically attack you? Why?" the
shocked blond inquired.
"Knox, I'm saying it tried to kill me as an act of revenge. That thing thinks
I'm responsible for its past traumas, which I'm obviously not or else we
wouldn't be having this discussion," the harsh reaper lied.
Red Death dropped the flirtatious act. "Oh, so that's how it happened. How
boring," she said nonchalantly as she rose from her seat, toxic green eyes
glaring at her boss, conveying the message that she knew he was blatantly
lying. "I'll have the paperwork finished within the hour, I suppose." With
that, she left the office without waiting for her superior's rebuttal.
"I'll get right on my paperwork, too, Spears-senpai," the junior said nervously
when he met his superior's hard glare.
"Then get to it, Knox! Have it completed without error on my desk within one
hour. Any tardiness will result in demotion for you and Sutcliff. Be sure to
remind him of that fact. Dismissed!" the stoic reaper barked.
"Yes, Spears-senpai, I'll let Sutcliff-senpai know," the blond called over his
shoulder as he hurried out of his tyrant boss' office.
                                    xxxxxx
"He's lying, Ronnie," the feminine reaper stated flatly as she and her
subordinate finished their case reports.
"About what, senpai?" the junior agent gave his superior a curious look.
"About his role in the project, and especially January. He knew she was being
abused and raped. He even...gods, it makes me sick to think about it to this
day just remembering what I saw him do to her..." She looked up at her
subordinate. "You know how Will is abusive with me, and I sit there and take
it, right?"
"Yeah, but you can easily overpower Spears-senpai," the blond pointed out.
"That's true, I can rip him apart with my bare hands in my sleep. I've seen
January take on a horde of demons by herself with ease. I heard rumors that she
tore an archangel apart under her own power without the aid of the Ikiryo, and
all with a single thought. But Will broke her. The difference between her and I
is that she submitted completely for the sake of her lover. Will hasn't broken
me, nor will he ever. I just like fucking with his head, but the things he did
to that girl..."
"Are you saying he touched her?" the young reaper asked with disgusted shock
building up inside him.
"Let's leave it at that," the reaper in red responded coolly.
Her subordinate stared in stunned disbelief at hearing the revelation. He knew
his boss was involved with overseeing part of the eugenics program decades ago,
but was completely unaware of his partaking of any of the perverse cruelty
meted out on the biological weapons below the catacombs. The junior reaper
looked up to the stoic man, but now having found out just how depraved he was
under that clean cut professional image he portrayed made the young man sick.
How could a man who is such a stickler for the rules just stand by and allow
little girls to grow up being routinely abused until death and look the other
way? Why? Because they're from another realm? "Why, senpai? That's not the boss
I know," the blond questioned.
"I still haven't figured it out myself, Ronnie."
"H-how do you know about this?"
Red Death looked her subordinate square in the eye. "I reaped May's soul. All
of them were treated the same way. Some worse than others, but essentially the
same. There was a problem with May's record, though. Everything with January in
it was missing. It's like she had been severed from her memory at the moment of
death," the redhead bitterly recalled. "The point is, Ronnie, Will was involved
in the worst way, and I don't blame January for trying to kill him."
"I hope 'Taker finds her soon," the young reaper anxiously stated.
"I do too." The lady in red glanced at the clock. "Goodness, we need to get
this paperwork turned in. I won't have my precious chainsaw taken away from me
again."
"Wait, senpai!" the blond called, stopping the redhead to catch up to her in
the hallway. "Are you saying that lady's records were somehow tampered with?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying, Ronnie," she replied as they continued their
brisk walk to their boss' office. "I don't know why or how, but May's records
were the only ones that were tampered. The connection to all of this is
January. We know they were lovers, and prior to that, were close friends since
early childhood."
"How does that even happen where only one set of records out of all the others
is tampered with?"
"I don't know, and I doubt that even Unnie knows." The red reaper lowered her
voice as they approached the manager's office. "We keep this between us,
Ronnie. I'm not sure if January remembers why she's missing from May's
records."
"You mean-"
"Shhh..."
                                    xxxxxx
Mesmerizing green eyes looked deep into hers, holding her frozen in motion like
trapped prey in the predator's sight. Long black nails grazed the flesh of her
thigh as she wrapped her legs around the silver haired man unlocking her secret
places. "Oh Goddess, I love you, Adrian," she murmured in bliss, eyes glowing
beneath translucent lids. She opened her eyes, to behold her lover's stunning
eyes once more, but he was gone.
                                    xxxxxx
"I love you, Adrian," a mocking male voice wheezed. "Tch. What a pathetic joke
as always, eh, my pretty? Heh, heh."
The experiment looked around in a groggy haze. Had she been dreaming? Is she
still dreaming? She didn't know. She had a vague sense of where she was, but
couldn't be sure. She recognized the voice and hoping it was one of her
nightmares of the past attempting to creep into the present, she reluctantly
decided to interact with the owner of said voice.
"Where am I?" the restrained woman slurred in a drug induced haze.
The perverted Empath leered at the female. "Why, you're at home where you
belong, my dear," he drawled, sniffing a lock of her hair. "Doesn't it feel
gooooooddd to be back home, my pretty? Hm?"
~Don't remember Undertaker's basement this bright. How did a pervert sneak in?
Home?~
"Am I back at 'Taker's shop? Where is he? I want him," the groggy female
demanded.
The blue eyed man pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled. "No, you're not
'back at 'Taker's shop.' You belong here with us, your own kind and in this
lab, you stupid cow!" The angry bigot yanked the girl by the collar of her
dress, intending to pull her up to his eye level. In his anger, he had
forgotten about restraining her and tore the front of her dress, exposing the
scar on her neck from Death's claim upon her. "What the fuck is this? You have
a reaper for a mate?"
The weapon nodded with enough clarity to understand the question as a small
smile crept over her lips. "Legendary Death," she mused. "I am his." Tears
sprung to her eyes as she felt a hard slap to her face.
"You stupid bitch! You're no better than the other cunt who left our realm for
a demon! You fucking Rarities are filthy trash. You think you're hot shit
because the Goddess favors you. Fuck you! There is no Goddess! If you're so
blessed and powerful, why are you the one strapped to this table?" The male
backhanded her across the face, followed by repeated blows to the abdomen.
~How dare you scorn the Goddess! Blasphemer!~
"You little bitch!" The male moved to backhand the abused female once more when
the laboratory door opened, announcing the entry of his female associate and
the black haired reaper overseeing the project. The girl's whimper in
anticipation of being hit piqued the reaper's interest in the activities
transpiring in the room. Glowing blue eyes blazed at the female strapped to the
exam table. "You damn whore," he seethed through grit teeth. "Now look what
you've done. Boss' gonna think I've touched ya, and I'm gonna be in a mess of
trouble because you can't keep your fucking mouth shut."
The imposing reaper strolled into the room with the female Empath silently
following behind. She glanced at the experiment with a sorrowful look, then
returned to impassively observing the interaction between the glaring reaper
and her defiant peer.
"Did you touch her?" the black haired man accused. The eugenicist remained
silent. "Did you touch her?" the reaper repeated, chartreuse eyes flashing a
warning of imminent death.
"Not in the way you're accusing me of,
sir,"
 the blue eyed abuser replied bitterly. Both males stared each other down, eyes
blazing maliciously. "Go on, ask her yourself if you don't believe me."
"Mr. Gaines, sir, please put that away," the female politely demanded when the
high ranking manager summoned his Death Scythe. She laced her fingers through
his free hand and looked up at him, her green eyes taking on a soft glow.
"Please withdraw," she softly requested, cupping his cheek with her other hand.
"There's no harm in asking January herself." The green glow held the reaper's
eyes in a certain hypnotic intensity, unable to avert his dilating chartreuse
eyes. "Please, Martin," she whispered so softly only he could hear. "Don't you
want to ask her yourself?" the question ghosted over the reaper's lips. Nodding
slowly, the hypnotized reaper banished his scythe. "Thank you," the albino
whispered in gratitude as she placed a chaste kiss on the mesmerized reaper's
lips.
"I have no idea how you do that, but for some reason I don't want you to stop.
Could that be the difference, I wonder?" the dazed reaper asked from another
place.
 
"That's a secret," the green eyed woman replied, breaking eye contact.
 
The male immediately snapped out of his lusty daze as soon as the albino woman
looked away. After gathering his bearings for a moment, he stalked over to the
other male and jerked him into the air by the lapels of his dingy, white lab
coat. "Your claim had better check out, you little pervert, or I'll reap you
where you stand." His evilly toxic eyes flashed an intent to kill as he growled
out his threat to the smaller man. "You piece of shit!" He snarled and tossed
the other across the room, knocking over instrument trays as a result. The
reaper paid no mind as he sauntered over to the examination table to inspect
the restrained prototype. A smile appeared on the black haired reaper's face as
he approached the restrained Rarity. "Hello, Stella, do you remember me?"
 
"How do you know my name?" the lavender haired woman demanded hoarsely.
 
"Oh, I know a lot of things about you. I'm hurt that you don't remember me
after the long history we had together here. No matter. That's not what I'm
here to discuss. I want to know if that little pervert touched you
inappropriately. I believe it's high time he's held accountable for his
perversion, don't you think, beautiful?" The high ranking reaper inspected the
lavender winter's bloodied face. "It seems you have a broken cheekbone, but
it's healing perfectly. The speed is astonishingly fast. Impressive if I do say
so myself. Quite an improvement. Emily, hand me something to clean her face
with."
 
The lavender weapon began to speak, but winced in pain as the imposing reaper
dabbed at the wounds. "So, my dear, did 'Doc' touch you?" the reaper repeated
as he took a seat at the foot of the exam table.
 
"No, not in a perverse manner. He hit me, broke my dress, and scorned the
Goddess. He should be put to death for his blasphemy against the Goddess! He
dared to insult Rarities and speak ill of our lifestyle, and especially of who
I chose as a mate." The Rarity's eyes blazed with furious zealotry.
 
"I'm happy to know that he didn't...molest you, my dear," the black haired man
said smoothly. "Why should he care about who your mate is? It's not like he's
staked a claim on you."
 
"It's outside of our race. Why do you care?" Scorn laced her hoarse inquiry.
 
"I'm just curious about what my property has been up to for the past few years,
and since you're not going anywhere for a long time, I just want to make polite
conversation," he replied with a shrug.
 
"I am not property," the woman growled. "I don't know you, yet you keep
claiming you know me, and you have the audacity to say I'm your property. I am
no one's toy, no one's object, no one's prize, no one's possession, no one's
property. I already have a mate, dammit. I know you know, but you're taunting
me. You just want to hear me say it. Out of your entire race, he's the only one
with eyes that never lie. You try to look like him, but you fail. He's mine and
I am his: Legendary Death."
 
"Ironic you should mention him, considering he's the most possessive, powerful,
and violent of our kind," the black haired reaper mused. "How does he treat
you?"
 
"Like I've always wanted to be treated."
 
A black pony tail swayed to and fro as the high ranking manager strolled to the
head of the table. "Eyes that never lie, you say?" he inquired, reaching out to
stroke her cheek. She flinched, expecting to be hit. "I'm not going to hit you,
my dear. I'm not in the habit of abusing beautiful women," he cooed, softly
stroking her cheek with his fingertips. His soft fingertips trailed down her
neck and peeled back the dress' torn collar, exposing her mate's claim on her.
The male dipped his fingertip in the indention above her collarbone. "It's
true, then. You belong to Adrian Crevan," the male sighed. "He was the only one
out of all of us who was created. You know, he used to be a flawless beauty
before he got all those scars. How sad it is that he sacrificed such a perfect
countenance just to hang on to a Death Scythe." The man's black pony tail
bobbed as he shook his head. "Ah, his braid." The reaper's fingers twirled the
long, thin lavender plait identical to her lover's. "He is indeed a very
possessive man. Tell me, when you laid eyes on him with all those scars, did
you find him attractive? Did you think that his blemished flesh was perfect? Do
you think a dangerously insane man like him is flawless?" The reaper's eyes
flashed with scorned envy as he further questioned the Rarity. "Did you have
any idea what kind of man you were getting involved with when you let him claim
you?"
 
"You're wrong! You have eyes that lie! Adrian is flawless with his scars. They
are beautiful. He is brutality. He is True Death. He is the One the Goddess
intended for me. You say he is violent, but he's always so gentle with me no
matter what I've done to him. He makes me beautiful...With him, I'm a woman,
not property, a prize to be won, and especially not an object. I'm his
treasure." Tears slipped down her face as she longed for her silver love.
"Where is he? What did you do with him? I demand to know! He's mine, dammit!
You can't steal what's mine!" The lavender haired female screamed and thrashed
as much as she could within her restraints. "Where is he?" Mismatched eyes
glared at the black haired reaper. "Stop looking at me as if you know me and
bring me Adrian! I want him now! You have eyes that lie, Evil One!"
 
The reaper signaled the green eyed scientist to administer a sedative to the
psychotic woman. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be along any minute now, beautiful. Just
be patient." His once placid and friendly smile grew into a fiercely sinister
grin with his mocking words as she faded into unconsciousness. "Emily, extract
it, but first, get the 'Prototype' into something more appropriate for our
needs. And you," he pointed at the blue eyed pervert. "Get the hell out of
here. You're goddamn lucky your story checked out, but that doesn't mean I
still won't reap your sorry ass where you stand. Now, get the fuck out!" The
male Empath stomped out of the room muttering epithets against reapers and
Empaths mating as he went, slamming the door behind him. "Piece of shit," the
reaper sneered. The scientist was almost finished putting the thin, white
cotton gown on the experiment by the time the black haired male returned to the
exam table. "You made quick work of the weapon," he commented.
 
"I've had well over forty years of practice, so it becomes routine," she
replied dryly. "I will not cut her hair. It is blasphemy to cut a Rarity's
hair. Furthermore, it's blasphemous to alter a Rarity's hair without her
consent."
 
The high ranking manager helped the eugenicist finish restraining the winter
weapon. "I wasn't planning to cut its hair. Without the overabundance of the
lavender stuff sprouting from its head, those strange, oversized eyes would be
far less alluring, don't you think? It would look quite deformed. Ha, even with
all the hair, Spears seems to think the thing's deformed anyway. I'm actually a
little hurt that it forgot about me. No matter, it's not like I was Prince
Charming or anything," he said with a bitter laugh. "Emily, I'll need you to
extract just enough of the Ikiryo's Will to distribute amongst the clones
evenly without disrupting the 'Prototype's' power level. We may need her for
more testing on the clones later on. That fuckhead fraud claims he rendered the
clones free of independent thought, but I have my doubts about them remaining
so once the Ikiryo is introduced. If all works out as planned, we destroy the
'Prototype'," the reaper ordered.
 
The green eyed female pushed the feelings of dread aside for the time being.
 
+I can't believe how long I've let this go on. Then again, I had no control
over how long all of this would play out. I feel like such a whore, but it's
the Will of the Goddess that Stella lives to fulfill the Sacred Prophecy.+
 
"Yes, sir," she said as she jotted down his orders on a clipboard.
 
"Emily, we're alone now. No more faux formalities."
 
The albino turned on the subtle intense green glow as she looked up at her
"superior", trapping him again in her hypnotic gaze. "Will there be anything
else...Martin?" she purred, glowing green locking onto dilating chartreuse.
 
"I have no idea what you're doing, but keep doing it. It's a great way to skip
the foreplay, don't you think?" the reaper mused from another place.
 
"So like you, Martin. Always down to business," the albino quipped.
 
"You like it." The reaper's chartreuse eyes lit up with lust.
 
"You're right, I do," the woman said in a sultry voice.
 
"What is it with you? You always know how to get what you want out of me."
 
"You have a kink for albinos," she replied, trailing her fingers down the
male's throat, and making quick work of the buttons on his shirt without
breaking her gaze.
 
"Oh shit, you're...This is why I keep you around." His eyes went wide as he was
shoved up against the door by the unusually tall female Empath who waged a full
assault against his dominance. For once, he let it happen, and enjoyed the
moment. "Gods, Emily, don't stop what it is you're doing to me," he quietly
begged.
 
"Let's take this somewhere a little more private. I have something I'd like to
extract from you," the albino scientist purred. The spellbound reaper nodded
slowly, submitting to her whims.
                                    xxxxxx
A silver rampage was striking the reaper realm. A precious treasure had been
stolen from Legendary Death and he'd kill anyone who dared to stand in his way.
Furious hunter's eyes darted back and forth as he tried desperately to seek out
the thieves who stole his Lovely. The legendary crescent blade of his Death
Scythe was stained with the blood of his own people, but he was a possessive
man, and it was his people who stole his special treasure from him. The thought
of harm coming to his strange eyed beauty fueled his rage, motivating him to
move faster in search of his lavender love. Despite the wrath burning from
within, the legendary reaper still kept himself open to her, and only to her.
 
*My Lovely, I am here. I promised if you were taken from me for any reason, I
would find you and bring you back. I am a man of my word. I am looking for you,
and I will find you, my Perfect Beauty.*
Chapter End Notes
     So, who else liked the tiny peeks into William's emotional turmoil in
     the last couple of chapters? Mmmmm...such a tasty appetizer. You'll
     have to wait for the main course. Like Sebastian with Ciel's soul,
     I'm preparing it with the best quality ingredients for all to savor,
     and cooking it slowly to let the flavor dance succulently on the
     taste buds.
***** Carnage *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts/communication =
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for reading and kudos. Do they even make that snack anymore? I
     never see it around. Anyway, sorry it's been a while. I'm still
     busting my ass on my first draft for my follow up to this story.
     This chapter has gore and contains a tiny spoiler to my follow up
     story. ***You have been warned***
     Who's ready for another itty bitty peek into William's boiling
     emotional turmoil. Mind you, it's just a tiny peek. Get out your
     microscopes.
     Enjoy.
The female reapers in General Affairs trembled in fear at the enraged legend
laying waste to everything in his path. At some point before entering the
reaper realm, the silver haired man pared down to his innermost layers and rid
himself of his treasured hat, effectively giving anyone who looked a glimpse of
the righteous fury in his eyes. "Is that the same guy from the statue in the
library?" one lady whispered to her coworker who slowly nodded in response
while keeping her terrified eyes fixed on the gorgeous wild beast approaching
their work station. His eyes seemed to soften with every step he took, but
there was no mistaking the madness and wrath dwelling within his legendary
hunter's gaze.
*Reapers fearing the reaper. Such sweet irony.*
A doe eyed blond was frozen in place by the legend's hypnotic eyes. Dilated
pupils spelled fear when she caught sight of the bloodied Death Scythe casually
resting over his shoulder as he approached her place behind the counter. A
long, black fingernail poked her cheek, drawing her attention to the
significantly taller man standing in front of her. She opened her mouth to say
something-anything-to the legendary reaper, but could only muster a tiny
squeak.
"Where is she?" the madman inquired in a dark, intimidating, calm voice laced
with possessive devotion through a menacing grin.
"I-I don't know who you're talking about," the blond reaper fearfully
stammered.
"I think you do," the mortician accused in a deadly sadistic tone as he slashed
his Death Scythe through the counters in General Affairs without regard to
anyone within range of the massive blade. Several ladies avoided his slashing
blade altogether while others sustained minor injuries. The unfortunate blond
at the counter was sliced in half from shoulder to hip, staining her colleagues
red with her blood. Wrath, hatred, loneliness, loss, unfathomable sadness
wrapped in a box of utter madness and tied with a pretty ribbon of absolute
love and extreme, fanatical devotion cast a horrifying, ethereal glow from eyes
that never lie as the reaper stalked like a predator over the debris, his
weight crushing what was left of the blond beneath him, in his single minded
determination to retrieve what was rightfully his. It is well known and
absolutely true that he is a violent man, and combined with his possessiveness,
he will not hesitate to kill anyone-man, woman, child, beast, anything with a
pulse-or destroy anything that takes what belongs to him.
A brunette spoke up out of the group of frightened females. "Sir," she began in
feigned fearlessness. "Please tell me who you are looking for so that I may be
of better assistance to you."
The male swung his blade in a deadly arc, narrowly avoiding decapitating the
female as she ducked in the nick of time. Her coworkers cowered in fear,
however, she remained standing and fearless (at least on the surface). "Where
is my Lovely?" he growled, holding his scythe to the female's throat. "I want
what's mine returned to me."
"You have claimed her?" the General Affairs worker asked.
"She. Is. Mine." the silver reaper reiterated, quickly losing patience with the
brunette. "She is not a weapon, she is a woman! I want her returned to me,
now!" He pressed the scythe harder against the female's throat. A small sliver
of blood trailed down the leading edge of the intimidating weapon and dripped
on the floor in slow, muted splashes. The cut wasn't fatal so far, but the
madness in the mortician's electric eyes guaranteed nothing whether or not he
was given the correct answer. "I want what's mine returned to me," he repeated
in a low, dead calm voice, darker than night.
A flash of memory from decades past entered the brunette's head at the
legendary reaper's phrasing referring to his mate. She remembered gossip about
strangely brutal experiments happening below the catacombs. She wasn't sure
what they were, but it didn't sound pleasant according to her sources who heard
it from reapers in the secretarial pool who overheard a certain redhead whining
about it with a strange looking albino outside the library. Even though she
wasn't sure if the third hand rumors were true, she thought it couldn't hurt to
direct the male to the source of the said gossip, however, she did fear his
wrath should he return empty handed. Risking the silver haired reaper's wrath,
she pointed in the direction of the library. "Catacombs," she whispered, taking
care not to move too much, lest she cut her throat on the crescent blade. The
male slowly lowered his scythe from her neck and looked at her with angry,
inquisitive eyes. "I heard rumors many years ago that there were experiments
taking place somewhere beneath them. I'm not sure if they were true or not, but
if they were..." the fearless brunette trailed off and a couple of tears
quietly slipped down her face as she imagined what kind of horrors could have
been taking place beneath the underground.
The silver reaper's soft spot for crying ladies brought him a moment of clarity
as he banished his scythe and gave the brunette a brief hug. "Stop crying," he
said softly. "You're aware of our natures as reapers." He lifted her head up
with his finger, locking eyes with her. "There's no reason to be upset. I'm
doing what I have to do." In an instant, his moment of clarity vanished.
Pushing the brunette woman out of the way, he summoned his Death Scythe and
headed in the direction of the library in a black and silver blur leaving a
trail of destruction and maniacal laughter in his wake.
                                    xxxxxx
A sleeping weapon strapped to an exam table was a sore sight for the high
ranking, gray haired reaper to see. The permanent glare of sadistic wrath that
resided in his dark green and citrine eyes softened into a mixture of pity,
regret, sadness, self loathing, and nostalgia. Out of curiosity, he opened one
of the unconscious Rarity's eyes and then the other to finally have his chance
to see the visual aspect of the intended result of the eugenics project. "So
beautiful," the gray haired reaper whispered as he let the dully glowing eye
flutter shut. He knelt down next to the lavender haired woman, admiring her
perpetual beauty. "I doubt you remember me anymore, but if you do, I don't
blame you should you wish for my end. I still love you. I know you're none of
the cruel things that the others say about you." He placed a slender hand over
hers as a single rogue tear slipped down his face. "I'm glad you found the love
you were searching for even though I could never be that one." The gray reaper
briefly nuzzled her cheek with his and planted a delicate kiss on her forehead.
"I'm sorry, my beautiful love...for everything."
The gray reaper rose to his feet after easing his conscience in hushed whispers
to the unconscious experiment laid out before him. A familiar piece of metal
beckoned his hand to his left ear and as always, the reaper gave in to the urge
to run his fingers over the curved spike, which he often does when he thinks of
her. Before his feelings overrode his principles, the gray haired senior
manager settled back into his cocoon of cold, hard sadism as he exited the
room.
                                    xxxxxx
"I could never get mine to grow that long," she said softly to her silver
haired lover as she finished painting a fresh coat of black lacquer over his
long nails. The Rarity looked down, admiring a job well done on her mortician's
manicure. A smile lit up her face as the mortician's hand completely engulfed
hers, taking care not to ruin the drying polish. "It's interesting how much
bigger you are than me." She giggled and briefly glanced adoringly into his
expressive eyes. She blushed madly when he did that thing with his eyes that
she likes.
"Maybe you're just too small," he teased, leaning in for a chaste kiss.
"Shut up, you ass!" she playfully retorted.
"Make me." His lips curled into a mischievous grin that was immediately
captured by his lavender lady. Long fingers twined themselves into her hair,
pulling hard enough to break the kiss. "I love you, Stella," the reaper
whispered, drifting soft kisses down her neck and back up again, finally
lingering on that certain spot behind her right ear. The Rarity thread her
fingers through silver as he slowly rolled his tongue over the sensitive flesh,
mercilessly teasing her. Then, for some reason, he bit her...hard causing her
to gasp out his name in surprised dissatisfaction.
                                    xxxxxx
The experiment slowly woke up to a pair of glowing forest green eyes staring
down at her. "No, I'm Emily, but he'll be here soon. I gave you a counteragent
to the shit I had to inject you with," the scientist hastily whispered while
pretending to look her charge over.
+Tell me you remember me.+
=I am she. She is me. We are One. We remember you, Emily.=
~You let me have Mae?~
+Yes! Yes! I'm happy you remember something about me.+
=I preserved you for her sake.=
+I am grateful, Formless One.+
=It is necessary. We are One.=
The eugenicist produced a second needle and gave the girl a shot of bluish
liquid in the bicep. "This is a gradual release stimulant. Right now this room
is under surveillance, so do not respond verbally to me. I'll be brief. I need
you to pretend that you're still unconscious. I'll do my best to keep watch
over you while I disable the security system by which time the stimulant will
have kicked in and you'll be completely alert. As soon as I'm done, I'll fetch
you. Do you understand?"
The petite nodded and mouthed, "Where is he?"
"I don't know, but I do know he's coming for you," the green eyed Empath
replied. "He's absolutely devoted to you. Treasure him as he does you. I must
go now while I still have enough time. Now, do as I say. I'll free you when the
time comes." The Rarity nodded, indicating that she understood. The other
female put on a blank, impassive facade and gave a curt nod in approval.
"Everything looks good so far. I'll be back later to check for any
abnormalities."
+Pretending is too easy, but it's getting old.+
                                    xxxxxx
"Senpai! Senpai! Is that 'Taker?" A distressed yellow haired reaper called out
to his superior.
The red reaper rushed to her junior's side to get a look at what he was
referring to. "Where, Ronnie?"
"Over there, heading into the library."
"Oh my sweet merciful Death! It is and he's lost his mind," the redhead
confirmed as she beheld the carnage left in the mortician's wake. "Well,
Ronnie, let's go see what this gorgeous madman is about to do."
                                    xxxxxx
Silver fury became far deadlier than the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse and
the Hell following after as he ventured further into the catacombs. Fanatical
devotion to Perfect Beauty fueled his rage as he mowed down his brethren in one
fell swoop of his deadly blade. He growled in frustration as a portly reaper
got stuck writhing like a pathetic insect on the edge of his scythe. "Where is
she?" the silver destroyer roared. "Where is my Lovely?" When all he received
in reply were agonized howls of pain, the reaper violently swung his Death
Scythe back and forth until the crescent blade tore free of its flesh and bone
prison, splitting the portly reaper in half. The lower portion of his body
dropped like a stone, spilling out his bowels while the top half sailed through
the air dropping internal organs like bloody bombs until it crashed into a
rough hewn wall several yards away. The legend didn't bother sticking around to
hear other panicked reapers call for backup, nor did he care. His mind was set
on one thing and one thing only as he made his way deeper into the catacombs in
search of his special treasure.
An unfamiliar set of steel double doors built into the bowels of the catacombs
greeted the silver haired man as he came to a stop at what used to be a dead
end.
*The woman in General Affairs must be right. These doors weren't here when I
was still active.*
The sound of an approaching security team was behind him and his Lovely was
somewhere beyond those ominous steel double doors. Curiosity turned to
murderous fury as the security team barked out orders for the legendary reaper
to stand down. "I don't think that's possible," the silver reaper stated in
absolute deadly calmness. "You see, I'm here to retrieve a very special
treasure who was stolen from me." A snarling grin overtook the madman's scarred
face as he readied his wicked Death Scythe for the inevitable fight with the
security team. His phosphorescent eyes scrutinized his prey as his grin grew
more menacing. "How pathetic!" He cackled at the standard issued scythes
distributed to the security team. Suddenly, the mortician's tone became darker
than the bottomless pits of Hell,
*NO ONE KEEPS HER FROM ME!*
his hypnotic eyes burned with rabid, unquenchable fury manifesting a toxic glow
of a revenge driven nocturnal predator. "I'll show you why I'm known as
Legendary Death." His menacing grin grew wider. "I'm in the mood for a little
rabbit hunt. Shall we?" With that, he leaped from the ground, swinging his
Death Scythe in one deadly, horizontal motion, taking out several of the
security agents at once not unlike the distant past when he took on entire
demon hordes by himself.
With single minded determination, Legendary Death executed each reaper that
dared to come between him and what was his. The metallic clangs of colliding
Death Scythes were muted to his ears, the screams of his dying brethren were
blatantly ignored as he showed them the meaning of True Death. The legendary
scythe was an extension of the silver haired man, moving fluidly with him with
each graceful and calculated motion. The lucky ones were dead before they hit
the ground, eyes wide open, lifelessly staring at a body that used to be
attached to the head housing the green and yellow lying eyes. On the other
hand, the unlucky ones, laid prostrate before the legend begging for mercy from
dismembered or disemboweled bodies. Ideally, Death is a release, but Legendary
Death is brutality.
                                    xxxxxx
=I am me. She is she. She is me. I am she. Are we One?=
~We are One.~
=What are They?=
~They? Only we are One? Who are They?~
=They are you.=
~Are we One?~
=We are One.=
~We will never sever from him. They are not us. We are not Them. We are One. We
are his...Stay with me a little longer.~
                                    xxxxxx
His granite visage finally showed a crack as he beheld the splintered remains
of General Affairs. The Dispatch manager balled his hands into tight fists.
Once again, the sound of his black leather gloves creaking over his knuckles
sending him into an internal rage. He analyzed the devastation surrounding him
and the shocked and horrified reapers in the what was left of the department.
One lady was weeping with glazed eyes as she held the torso of her doe eyed
blond coworker, rocking it back and forth and whispering reassuring words as if
that would somehow bring her back to the afterlife. "What happened here?" the
stoic reaper inquired softly, yet sternly. He knew a Death Scythe was the cause
of the damage, but he wanted to confirm a hunch about the the wielder of that
certain scythe.
The fearless brunette raised her head, looking the black haired manager dead in
the eyes from what was left of a counter top. A wistful look betrayed a rude
smirk painted on her sharp features. "Legendary Death happened, sir." She bowed
her head, rehashing the previous events. "He's actually very sweet. He just
wants his mate returned-"
A hard slap broke the brunette's sentence in half. Stunned silence from all the
females permeated the room's cold atmosphere. "Undertaker's mate is not a
woman," the male reaper sneered. "It is a failed science project, a weapon too
powerful and unstable for its own good. You will do well not to sympathize with
it or him." The manager's angry glare cast itself over the rest of the women.
"See to it that medics arrive promptly."
"We've already called them," the sobbing lady replied. "Still waiting..."
"One more thing, did any of you see Agents Knox or Sutcliff come this way?" The
crack in the pruner wielding reaper's stony visage repaired itself as he made
his inquiry in his trademark monotone voice.
"Those two?" The brunette snickered. "I saw them come this way, sir. It seems
like they were in a hurry to get to the library." A wistful smile matching the
look in her eyes spread over her lips. "They were after Legendary Death." The
brunette dropped her head, biting her lip as she thought about the legend's
alluring eyes.
The manager glared at the brunette on the splintered remains of the counter
top. He knew she got a damn good, close up look at those legendary, piercing
eyes, but he kept his envious feelings to himself. Even Sutcliff had a close up
look at the madman's eyes before. Sutcliff of all reapers, and Knox, too! Of
course, that vile thing that the silver haired reaper insists on calling a
woman gets an all access pass to those piercing, phosphorescent eyes anytime
she wants, and he gladly obliges. Isn't he supposed to be the dominant one in
the relationship? The bespectacled reaper gave a small, curt nod to the
distraught women without further commentary and raced toward the library. He
knew the legend he admired would be there looking for that thing. The raven
haired reaper quickened his pace as he clenched his jaw, almost hearing his
teeth grinding while his mind drifted to the fate of Legendary Death. The
embarrassment crept in as his superior's smug observation replayed in his mind.
...I know how you really feel about Crevan. It's written all over your face. It
runs even deeper than admiration, doesn't it?
The urge to kill his pony tailed superior washed over him as his embarrassment
came and went. At the moment, however, unnecessary emotions had to be shoved
aside. Orders needed to be carried out whether he agreed with them or not.
***** Chaos *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for the reads and kudos. Sorry I've been taking forever on
     updates lately. I've been working my ass off on the follow up multi
     chap to this story. I'm on the home stretch with updating this story.
     Only a few more chapters to go and you won't have to hear any more
     sorry excuses for my slow updates.
     With that being said, this chapter does contain a tiny spoiler for my
     follow up and gore. ***You have been warned.***
     Enjoy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The green eyed scientist's heart was racing as she skidded to a stop and
pressed her back against the wall, barely avoiding getting caught by her boss
on the way to the control room.
+Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Is that son of a bitch ever going to leave? I'm
done being his toy. I've had all I can take from the bastard and can take no
more. I've gotten every last bit of information I need from him, yet he is
still here. Does he know I intend to free her? Is he suspicious of me? Damn!
Why doesn't that son of a bitch just get his sorry ass out of here already!+
If the double agent was going to free the Rarity, it had to be now, but the
black haired reaper's surprise appearance near the control room entrance
greatly complicated her plans. Spotting an air duct overhead, she briefly
considered hiding inside, but ultimately decided against it as she didn't want
to draw unwanted attention to herself with noises the reaper's sharp hearing
would surely pick up. Instead, the Empath waited silently and eavesdropped on
the male's conversation with her perverted associate as they spoke in hushed
voices.
"...the clones because he is looking for her. This Legendary Death she loves so
much is nothing but a has-been deserter..."
+That's definitely Martin.+
"...the clones are just copies of my pretty...If the bastard is so blind
without his glasses, just give him a clone to take, he'll never know the
difference..."
+That's the pervert.+
"...know the difference. He's not fucking blind! His vision's shitty, there's a
fucking difference!...see the glow and sense her. Don't you know anything about
your own race?"
"Rarities..."
"I don't care, you piece of shit! He'll know the goddamn difference!"
The rogue female risked peeking around the corner at the escalating exchange
between the two men and witnessed the larger male pummeling the smaller into
the ground. The blue eyed male finally had enough of his boss' abuse and
summoned the power of his mind and sent him hurtling down the hall through a
glass door with incredible force. She knew the day would eventually come when
the perverted man would finally snap. "I'm tired of you telling me that I'm a
piece of shit, reaper trash," the male Empath sneered. His blue eyes blazed at
the black haired male as he was hoisted up from the floor and pinned to the
wall by a single thought. It was the perfect opportunity for the female to put
her next phase of sabotage into action as she dashed toward the control room
while the males were distracted.
+Upload the Pestilence virus and let chaos take control...+
Just to be safe, the albino destroyed everything in the control room as the
virus ran its course through the central computer system, destroying everything
essential and nonessential alike. As the lights began to flicker out, one
section of the underground building at a time, she locked the door from the
inside and made her egress, keys in hand, self satisfied smirk on her face.
+May I be redeemed in the eyes of my Mistress.+
                                    xxxxxx
A certain gray haired reaper sat alone in his office with a glass of absinthe
dangling in one hand and a treasured object in the other. He remembered that
day well. He remembered when he still had the passion for his art, but since
that day, he no longer cared. He absently downed the glass of absinthe and
stared blankly at the immortalized moment he still treasured although the one
caught in the moment would probably never remember him, and if he was
remembered, he'd gladly die for what he'd done. His hand wandered up to the
curved spike in his ear as it so often did when he thought of her. A knock on
the door jarred him from his thoughts. "Damn," he grumbled as he quickly hid
his treasure. "What do you want?" his razor blade voice snapped at whomever
interrupted his melancholy musings. "Are you going to come in or not? I don't
have all day."
A pretty red haired reaper walked in with an envelope bearing the Council's
official seal. "This came for you just now, sir," the lady said softly with
flushed cheeks.
High contrast eyes scanned the redhead from head to toe. "Who are you and where
is my assistant?"
"I'm Paige. Your other assistant quit. She told me as I came in that you...I
shouldn't say anything. It's my first day and I don't want to get in trouble,"
she smiled sheepishly.
"I won't punish you. Sit, tell me what she said while I look over this letter,"
the manager invited. "I don't plan on keeping the Council waiting, you know. I
would like to go home, and I'm sure you don't want overtime on your first day
as my new assistant."
"She said that you were a scrawny, sadistic, bloodthirsty, cold hearted,
asshole, and that I should watch out for you because you don't know how to show
anyone respect, especially women. I'm sorry, sir, you asked." The woman looked
down and fiddled with her manicured fingers.
"She's right to an extent, but I wouldn't call myself scrawny. Other than that,
I have my reasons," he replied while reviewing the letter. A moment passed by,
then two, when the gray reaper suddenly slammed the letter down and glared at
his assistant. "What do you think?"
"I don't know you, therefore, I cannot pass judgement," she replied in as even
a tone as possible.
"I lost the last person who said that to me. She was very special. Well, at
least you won't have to deal with me for very long. Someone's been redeemed,
and I've been chosen to serve on the Council," the high ranking reaper said
with a cold smile.
"If you don't mind my saying so, sir, I think you have beautiful eyes," the
redhead squeaked out with a blush.
"Thank you," he said lowly. "I think you'd better get back to work. Type up my
acceptance, standard reply, you know the drill, you're a smart woman, and
deliver it to the Council chambers immediately. After that, you may go home."
This time, the high ranking reaper was relieved to be alone in his office. It
had been many decades since someone told him he had beautiful eyes. A few
rebellious tears rolled down his face as his hand wandered back up to the
curved spike in his left ear as it so often did when he thought of her and the
many times he heard those sweet words drip like honey from her lips.
                                    xxxxxx
Lights flickered off while the mortician studied the two dozen clones clamped
inside their chambers by magnetic cuffs. Darkness was never a problem for him
as his senses were well honed. Setting aside his glasses proved to be no
hindrance to him in the slightest for he knew the difference between looking
and seeing. A special kind of anger boiled in his blood as his acidic eyes
roved each fraudulent version of his lavender love. Twenty four dead eyed
forgeries.
*They are not her. They don't bear her scars. They don't have her tattoo. They
are not her, although they made them out of her, they are not her.*
The reaper hadn't noticed that the clones were freed from their magnetic
prisons as the power went out until one of them touched his face, bringing him
back from the alternate reality of his self musings. The slightly stiff manner
in which the clone touched him was completely unlike the petite woman he knew.
She always had a smooth, delicate touch, even when she left deep rivers of
crimson on his back when they made love. And that day she came into the shop
and traced the scar on his face, strange light shining from tear stained,
curious eyes, in spite of her abject fear of him. Had she not stopped when she
did...
*I don't want to think about it.*
"A~dri~an," the lavender haired clone greeted in a soft, broken voice. The
others closed in, echoing the first.
*Her eyes don't glow. None of their eyes glow.*
He put his hand over the lead clone's and gently removed it from his face. It
broke his heart and angered him all at once to observe two dozen bad copies of
the lovely weapon recognizing him and closing in on him as if they were her.
"You are not her," the reaper said softly. "You are not my Lovely."
"Adri-" The clone attempted to repeat, but fell dead at the legend's feet.
Twenty three thuds followed in rapid succession as her sister clones suffered
the same fate. The clear liquid within the IV bags rendered the Ikiryo's Will
poisonous to the clones, consequently killing them, and sending the Will back
to its rightful place. The silver haired man scowled at the lifeless clones
scattered about the laboratory floor, and especially at the one lying prostrate
at his booted feet. "You are not my Lovely," he growled. Fury erupted from
within that special place in his heart that desperately missed the Rarity. The
legendary reaper spotted an observation window overhead, still quite obvious
despite the darkness and his blurry vision. "Where is she?" he shouted,
summoning his Death scythe. "What did you do with my Lovely?"
Receiving no answer, the legend destroyed everything in his path, starting with
the fakes. With possessive wrath burning in his phosphorescent eyes, he
dismembered each one of the lifeless forgeries with ease, tossing their various
limbs in random directions. Whatever torsos happened to be around were ripped
apart, disemboweled, and strewn across the room in various directions,
splattering the walls with blood red and useless vital organs. An assortment of
body parts were jammed into broken machinery and electronic equipment. A
terrifying grin spread over the mortician's face as he stepped through the
carnage,
*There is only one Perfect Beauty.*
leaving dismembered clones mixed with shards of glass and twisted metal,
overturned tables with guts hung about them like garlands on a Christmas tree,
and more choas in his wake. Toxic fire burned with malice in his expressive
eyes as he stalked down the corridor, leaving a trail of blood behind him. A
few silent tears slipped down the male's pallid cheeks, though his psychotic
grin never faltered.
*Lovely, I miss you so. Won't you tell me where you are.*
~Adrian!~
                                    xxxxxx
The two males abruptly stopped fighting as soon as the lights flickered out.
The Empath's blazing blue eyes widened in shock as he looked to the recovering
reaper on the floor. They stared at each other for a moment until it hit them.
"The clones!" Both men cried in unison.
"It's locked from the inside!" the eugenicist shouted as a panicked blue glow
overtook the blaze in his eyes.
The black haired reaper summoned his Death scythe and broke through the metal
door blocking their entry. Both males were greeted by chaotic destruction as
they stepped inside the control room. The high ranking reaper banished his
katana with a frustrated growl. "That treacherous, green eyed bitch!" He turned
on the other male. "Now we check the clones."
"This wasn't done by Emily, boss. There's no way!" the blue eyed man whined in
a wheezy voice. He picked up a disembodied arm and caressed his cheek with its
bloodied hand. "Oh, my pretties, we were so close, so very close," he murmured
absently.
"That's just sick," the pony tailed reaper sneered as he continued sifting
through the rubble. "It's blatantly obvious that your whorish partner didn't do
this. My property's mate has come to retrieve her. Too bad I've never been able
to keep that thing in my grasp. She's more overpowering in the eyes than
Emily."
"It's not my problem that women take issue with you," the impatient eugenicist
blurted out.
The reaper's dark glare bored metaphorical holes into the Empath's soul. "At
least they're alive and willing when I fuck them. Now then, you should also be
aware after living among my kind for decades how possessive we are, but that
thing's mate takes the cake. Shit, look around you! He even hacked her effigy
to pieces. Tell me, Doc, would you chop up the image of someone you supposedly
loved? Hm?" he questioned in a condescending tone. "By your lack of response,
I'm going to assume you've never loved a single person in your miserable life
or you most likely wouldn't destroy the image of that which you love. That
thing wouldn't listen to reason. You heard her demanding of us the whereabouts
of her precious Adrian. She's so convinced that he's this perfect gentleman,
but I assure you, he's extremely violent and has no idea what the fuck sanity
is. I have seen this man fight. Hesse is a little bitch compared to him, and we
all know what a bloodthirsty sadist he is."
"I heard Hesse goes on killing sprees for the thrill of it," the blue eyed man
stated as he rummaged through the wreckage in search of anything salvageable.
"Is that true?"
"Oh yes, it's true," the senior manager confirmed with a smug smirk. "A sexual
thrill. He may look fragile, but he's very powerful. He's been around a hell of
a lot longer than I have. He and that twat, Marcus Jones, popped into existence
around the same time. If I remember correctly, Jones came into our realm right
after Hesse, like Jacob on Essau's heel." The black haired reaper bitterly
laughed. "Well, you know what they say about us as we age. Anyway, there's
nothing here that can be saved. That bastard destroyed everything. I suggest we
take our leave while we can."
"And do what?" the blue eyed Empath huffed.
"We wait. Those two will be along in a little while, I'm sure. There's only one
way in and one way out," the high ranking reaper smugly replied. "I would also
strongly advise not to fuck with me again. Now that I have no more use for you
and that albino bitch that played me for a fool, I will not hesitate to kill
either of you." He flashed the Empath a menacing grin.
"What do we do with...this?" the eugenicist gestured to the rotting flesh
amidst the destruction.
"Leave it for the little bitch to see. I wonder if it will shake her devotion
to that oh-so-perfect legend she's so in love with?"
"I don't know if it will. I've seen her do some sick shit and so have you."
The taller male quirked an eyebrow. "True, but have you seen her do it to a
representation of someone she loves?"
"Point taken," the smaller man conceded.
                                    xxxxxx
Time passed too slowly for the experiment as she waited for her silver love to
find her. She heard him call out to her and she knew he heard her return his
call. All she could do was anxiously wait in her weakened state and hope that
he arrived soon. Try as she might, the icy winter couldn't stop pained tears
from flowing down her face. Fearful sobs wracked her small body as she lay
there still tightly strapped down to the cold, metal examination table,
clinging desperately to the hope that the death god she is forever devoted to
had not himself met his own end. Squeezing her glowing eyes shut, she uttered
another silent prayer to the Goddess. Every second that passed by without him
was pure agony. The tattooed female bit back a screaming lamentation. Instead,
she closed her eyes tighter and allowed her fears and sadness to rain down from
sorrowful, mismatched eyes.
~Adrian, where are you?~
"I'm right here, Lovely," a familiar, velvet voice cooed. The female opened her
tear stained eyes and beheld a pair of stunning green reaper's eyes staring
back at her.
~Stunning eyes that never lie.~
"Don't cry, milady. You know it breaks my heart to see you cry."
As soon as the last restraint was removed, the winter storm threw herself in
the legend's warm embrace. She pulled back a bit, looking her reaper in the
eyes. A subtle, hungry innocence lit up mismatched jewels set in obsidian and
framed by long, lavender lashes as she delicately traced the scar bisecting her
lover's face.
*This is her. This is MY Lovely!*
The mortician closed his eyes and sighed lowly. "It really is you, my silver
love," she whispered against the man's lips as he pulled her up against his
chest. A barely audible whimper escaped him when her delicate hand left his
face. "I missed you so much. A forgery said you wished to hurt me, but he has
evil eyes that lie. He doesn't know the meaning of One. He will never be you. I
will always be yours." The Rarity's perfect mismatched glowing eyes locked on
to his electric green double irises as she slid her slender fingers through
silver tresses.
"Lovely," the silver haired reaper breathed. "Whatever it is you do to me is
addicting. Don't stop." With nothing left to say, he wrapped his Perfect Beauty
in his arms and kissed her with passionate abandon. She was his goddess and he
was her cult. "I love you so much," he whispered while nuzzling the crook of
her neck.
"I love you as well, my beautiful Adrian," the woman of mass destruction
replied, returning the legend's nuzzling affection. "I'm so happy we didn't
lose each other before the appointed time." Her blue and green eyes glowed in a
bittersweet softness against the dark backdrop they were lodged in as she drank
in the intoxicating beauty of her lover's face. "Your beauty is absolutely
perfect, my silver love."
*Heehee. Even with all these scars.*
"Especially, with all of your scars," she said lowly, capturing his lips in a
ravenous kiss. "They are almost as alluring as your eyes, my silver love."
Silver Death elicited a low purr from his lady love as he raked his long,
slender fingers through her hair. Both lovers smiled wistfully as they twirled
each other's braids between their fingers. "Your hair is so beautiful, Lovely,
even when it's a mess." His signature grin spread across his lips. "Come,
Lovely," the mortician said in what passed for a cheerful tone as he scooped
the girl into his arms. "Let's get you cleaned up. Hehehehe." He kissed her
forehead gently as she nuzzled into his chest with a soft giggle. Those seven
little words always made the Rarity feel giddy and he knew why.
*The hair. She's obsessed with my compulsion to touch her hair. Her precious,
silky lavender hair.*
Despite the satisfied faces they wore, neither one of the fair haired lovers
could shake the feelings of dread encroaching them as they made their way
through dark, twisting corridors on the way to the exit out into the catacombs.
As they approached what was left of the clone room, the petite's eyes lit up
with almost childlike wonder at the macabre result of the chaos left in the
mortician's wake. Destroyed effigies
~Frauds.~
of the Rarity were laid inside out for all to see. She snuggled up to the
legendary reaper with a warm sensation rushing throughout her body and a feral
glow in her eyes. "Was all of this for me, Adrian?"
"For you," he replied meaningfully, holding her faster as they pushed through
the chaotic mess toward the exit.
Both lovers held fast to each other and faster still, the further they moved
along. They stole brief kisses in the dark corridors while they could, and
exchanged a heartfelt "I love you" once they emerged from the hidden chambers
beneath the catacombs into the carnage above. The Rarity smiled to herself.
~All this...for me.~
Chapter End Notes
     I wrote this while listening to Big Black. If you've heard of them,
     you are awesome and deserve cookies! : )
***** Agenda *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for stopping by and giving my story a nice once over. I
     appreciate the kudos and stuff of that nature. Only a few more
     chapters to go!
     The chapter may look choppy due to differing POVs of our
     protagonists' allies observing the same event unfolding, hence the
     name of the chapter. Notice a theme here? Also, the long awaited sexy
     time is here!
     This chapter contains partial exhibitionism and dismemberment. ***You
     have been warned.***
The double agent made it back to the lab undetected only to find the room void
of any occupants.
+He found her. Legendary Death has his treasure once more.+
The next order of business was self preservation. The saboteur ransacked the
laboratory, gathering any necessary items she could carry on her person,
including documents implicating the black haired reapers from the inception of
the eugenics program all the way into the present. Satisfied with her choice of
inventory, the rogue wreaked total havoc on the room within, setting the small
office ablaze, virtually erasing herself from the project in its entirety.
Locking the door from the inside, the female closed off the room and vanished
into the gloomy corridors with the green lights of her eyes guiding the way
out.
+Sacrifices must be made, but not them, and not her...not until her hour
strikes.+
"Dammit!" the green eyed eugenicist cursed under her breath as she broke free
from the darkness of the catacombs. The phantom pain mercilessly stabbed the
left side of her face as she stumbled to a secluded area in the brightly lit
library. The stark difference between the darkness of the catacombs and the
brightness of the library shocked the secondary optic nerve that gave her race
the unique glow of their eyes, sending the female to her knees, clutching her
head as she was painfully reminded of her sacrifice.
+It was for her so that the Prophecy can be fulfilled.+
The double agent rose to her feet as the pain subsided, dragging the phantom
along with it, and scanned her surroundings. She was now aware of just how
brutal a man Legendary Death was as she studied the dismembered corpses
littering the library and shelves lined with more gore than books. She stifled
a startled yelp when she almost tripped over a disembodied head as she turned
in the direction of the catacombs at the sound of loud shouts. She breathed a
sigh of relief when she saw her pretty red friend and her subordinate in a
heated argument with their boss. Unfortunately, the relief was short lived when
she was grabbed from behind by her throat.
"Found you," a deep, angry, resonate voice growled lowly in her ear.
A wheezy chuckle joined in. "Stupid bitch."
"Where is she?" the black haired reaper inquired, squeezing the green eyed
woman's throat just enough to intimidate her into submission. "I had her first,
I want her back. She's my property. Where the fuck are you hiding her?"
"Oh, so I didn't count for anything?" the green eyed rogue rasped
sarcastically.
"You were never mine, though I wanted you to be. You're not getting out of
this, Emily. Where the fuck is the 'Prototype'? Where did you hide her?" His
hand tightened around the woman's throat. "I should kill you now for playing me
for a fool for so many years, but I need your information first. Tell me where
she is. Now!"
The traitorous female merely grinned. "Do you really have to make such
ridiculous demands, Martin? You know exactly where she is, and you know I don't
give a shit about your intimidation tactics." The female turned her face up and
met the eyes of her aggressor with an intimidating green light blazing in hers
and a deranged grin on her face. "Marcus choked me harder than that when he
fucked me, and damn could he fuck. In the end, you are a powerless piece of
shit." The green eyed eugenicist let out a strained laugh. "Behold! Here she
comes, alive and well in the arms of Death himself. Gaze upon her face, Martin.
Her devotion is unshaken despite his violence for it is never directed at her
nor will it ever be unless she wishes it. What they have is absolute,
beautiful, and pure." The albino's tone darkened. "It's ironic that you're
scared to take on your boss, but you don't fear a legend. If you want her,
Martin, you'll have to fight for her."
The high ranking reaper adjusted his gold framed glasses with an annoyed huff.
"So that's how it's going to be? Comparing me to some dead son of a bitch? Just
how long were you with him?"
"That's a secret," the traitor replied with a sly giggle.
"Well then, let us be entertained my dear, Emily," the pony tailed manager
sneered.
+The Conduit is here.+
                                    xxxxxx
"I most certainly will not!" the red reaper exclaimed in a huff. Her
subordinate's dual colored eyes nervously glanced back and forth between her
and his former role model as they argued over the fate of the legend. "I still
can't believe you'd choose your damn career over him!" The redhead's eyes
darkened with rage, building up like a tempest as she glared at her emotionless
superior. "I sincerely regret ever loving you. I found your cold stoicism
attractive for the longest time, but now it repulses me."
The red reaper's boss was itching to run her through with his Death Scythe, but
doing so was against protocol and would result in immediate termination at the
very least. His leather gloves made that infernal creaking noise which further
fueled his anger as he tightened his grip on his ever present pruners.
"Sutcliff," he began in a low calm-too calm-voice. "You and Knox will apprehend
Undertaker. If he has succeeded in reclaiming that...freak he calls a mate, you
will apprehend it as well. They will be confined to secure locations separate
from each other. Undertaker will be executed. This is the final time I'm going
to tell you this, Sutcliff!"
A sharp toothed grin spread over her ruby painted lips as she looked to her
subordinate who gave her a flirty wink in return. "No, Spears-senpai, I refuse
to do any harm to 'Taker or his lady. It goes against my morals to hurt my
friends," the blond affirmed without his usual casual attitude.
"Sutcliff, don't try to pull the 'morals' card on me. I know good and well that
you don't even know the definition of the word," the irate reaper rebuked.
"Oh, Willy, I wasn't planning on it," Red Death purred, her grin growing wider
at the twitching eyebrow of her boss. "I just don't feel like hurting my
friends. That would be too boring." The redhead's sarcasm was venomous as it
dripped from her ruby painted lips. "I'd rather give up my chainsaw before I
give up Unny, however, I'd prefer to keep both."
"Look, senpai, there they are," the blond shouted over the din, pointing in the
direction of the catacombs.
"Looks like you're on your own, Will," the redhead stated with a nonchalant
flip of her hair. "Come on, Ronnie, let's go check out that gorgeous madman."
The viciously perky redhead linked arms with the younger reaper as they both
casually defied their boss' orders with a spring in their step from a heavy
weight finally being lifted off of their backs.
The raven haired manager was left flabbergasted as his two subordinates
sauntered off, leaving him alone to fight the silver haired legend he so
admired and adored deep down inside. He glared at the two snickering reapers
ahead of him and growled as they shamelessly flipped him off. He couldn't
believe the outright defiance his subordinates just displayed to his face, and
in public no less, just to save his former mentor and that repulsive thing he
calls a mate. "How dare he choose that thing as a mate!" the stoic reaper fumed
to himself.
                                    xxxxxx
The lavender haired petite held tightly to her lover as he carried her through
the maze of the catacombs. He stopped and shrank back into the shadows when a
suspicious rustling noise was heard up ahead. The female instinctively buried
her head in the reaper's chest to conceal her ever glowing eyes. The couple
listened closely in anticipation, but all that was heard were weak pleas for
mercy accompanying the rustling instead of the expected onslaught of violence.
*One of them survived after all. Heehee.*
"Adrian?" The experiment peered up at the silver reaper's piercing eyes with a
worried expression overtaking her delicate features.
"It's ok, Lovely, I won't leave you," the reaper reassured in a soothing voice.
Shivers rocketed up and down her spine as he stroked her hair, grazing her
scalp with his long nails.
~His long, wonderful nails.~
Lost in the moment, the lavender weapon pulled the reaper down by his braid for
a spontaneous kiss. The silver haired male held the Rarity closer, threading
his fingers through lavender locks, tasting her, and in his own way dominating
her as he pinned her against a rough wall in a hidden place within the
catacombs. The petite, clothed solely in the thin, white, cotton gown from the
pits of hell, intertwined her limbs around the tall, black clad reaper. "I want
you to take me," she breathlessly demanded as she wove her delicate fingers
through silver silk, humming with unsated hunger as the lengthy strands slipped
through her fingers.
"Are you quite sure, my love?" the mortician asked with concern flickering in
his brilliant golden green eyes.
The hybrid weapon's glowing eyes radiated insistent ferocity. "This may be the
last time I'll remember us as we are." She ground her hips into his. "I want
you, Adrian, right now, before my hour strikes."
The legend drew the Rarity against him as she captured his lips in a gluttonous
kiss. A long fingered hand tipped with wonderful nails of ebony slid down
between the two fair haired, porcelain skinned lovers. "As my Lovely wishes,"
the male's velvet voice purred as he released the array of fastenings on his
leather pants in one swift movement. With a fierce, animalistic kiss, the
reaper roughly shoved the petite against the rock wall and into her.
Delicate fingers twisted into silver tresses. "Adrian, I said I wanted you to
take me." She squeezed her legs around the silver reaper's slim waist and
rolled her hips down hard, emphasizing her demand for the silver haired man to
sate her secret hunger. She pulled back his bangs, revealing a look of unsated
hunger mixed with raw, aggressive desire waiting to be unleashed from its
confines. The petite's heart raced as her eyes took on the strange glow that
ignited the first time she beheld her lover's legendary eyes.
~Oh Goddess, his eyes are so...perfect.~
"Don't hold back, my silver love," the female whispered with sparkling gems
aglow against black satin.
Silver Death buried one hand in a sea of lavender and pulled down hard, forcing
the petite to meet his fiery, possessive, hunter's gaze. "Anything for my
Lovely," he purred darkly against parted lips. His eyes retained the look of
possessive hunger overlaid with aggressive desire while he stared down at the
weapon at his mercy. He brushed his lips against hers, delighting in their
softness before moving on to relentlessly tease that certain spot of sensitive
flesh behind her right ear. The soft skin of her tattooed back was a stark
contrast to the unrelenting power he held over her in their deadly dance. The
stained skin was fire beneath his touch as he unlocked her secret places, her
devotion to him spilled out in her native tongue. She buried her face in a
waterfall of silver and rolled her hips to meet his, that certain piercing only
serving to unlock the secrets of the secrets to her secret places under the
legend's raw, unrelenting, animalistic domination over her.
"I am yours," she whispered in Legendary Death's ear, making sure to give each
piece of metal the attention it deserved, eliciting a soft growl from the
bearer of the piercings.
"I am yours as well, Stella." Silver captured lavender in a sweetly domineering
kiss that left her craving more.
~From him.~
"I love you."
"As I love you, Adrian," the weapon breathed, returning the kiss in kind.
They both knew he was close when he had to be closer to her. Despite his
aggression, a subtly inaudible whimper still escaped the mortician's lips as he
pulled the Rarity against him by her hair. He clutched her possessively and
buried his face in soft lavender, whispering sweet words to the one he was
singularly devoted to without relenting his power over her. She, in turn, held
him close as he took her without holding back, seeking out all his sensitive
spots adorned with metal, teasing him mercilessly as he had done to her. She
knotted her fingers in a mass of silver as the reaper tore open the flesh on
his favorite spot on her neck, sating her secret hunger.
"Oh Goddess, Adrian, again!" the petite demanded, meeting the eyes of her
sadistic lover. Without question and without fail, he carried out her sadistic
wish, losing himself in the moment and in her.
"You're a little masochist," the silver reaper whispered as he soothed the bite
wounds to his lavender love's neck. "But you're my little masochist."
"I am," the scarlet stained petite agreed with a girlish giggle.
                                    xxxxxx
A mortally injured reaper laying on the ground in the catacombs with a deep
scythe wound across his back turned out to be the source of the suspicious
rustling the fair haired lovers heard before taking a break from the dark
reality to come. From what the couple could see, the security agent's injuries
were indeed severe, but not life threatening. A severed spinal cord, an arm
dangling from sinewy flesh, a vertical slash over the face leaving an eye
hanging split open from its socket, some surface wounds, broken bones already
healing themselves, and an open chest cavity exposed to damp air, making the
pain even more unbearably excruciating for the down and not quite out security
agent seemed fair to the mortician considering the fact that he was one of the
assholes who tried to keep him away from his treasure. In the legend's mind,
letting the reaper lay there and rot was merciful, although hearing the bastard
cry like a baby to be reaped did put a bit of a smile on his face.
"My, my, look what we have here, Lovely," the silver haired man drawled,
addressing his mate. She peered down at the mangled, suffering security agent
on the floor with curious mismatched eyes set against the void. "This one
fought well against me. Hehehe." The mortician adjusted his lavender lover in
his arms and stole a sweet kiss. "I'm surprised you're still alive." The
mortician grinned down at the paralyzed reaper without a hint of mirth.
"Please..." the mutilated man begged. "End...me. I...am unable...cannot move."
The mortician smirked, then grew deadly serious. "Why should I show you mercy?"
His eyes shone with hatred. "None of you were willing to show her any. As I
recall, you and what's left of everyone else in here were more than willing to
keep me away from my Lovely." The aforementioned woman hummed as onyx talons
caressed her cheek.
"She's...yours? Stolen from you...your treasure?" the mangled reaper asked in a
feeble attempt to make amends. "Kill...for...her?"
The fair haired lovers stared at the dying man in disdain. "Anything my Lovely
needs, I will provide. Anything my Lovely wants, I will give. Anything my
Lovely wishes, I will do," the legendary reaper's voice resounded with dark
wrath as he spoke to the paralyzed heap of mangled flesh at his feet. "I'd
rather let you lay there and suffer, but I'm going to leave your fate in her
hands instead." He placed a soft kiss on the petite's forehead as he gently
lowered her to the ground.
"Please...please, release me," the agonized security agent pleaded the violent
winter. "Let your...mate...end me."
"Very well, I'll let him end you, but I have something I want to say. I don't
believe for a second that you give a shit about me. I can see it in your pretty
green and yellow eyes that lie. I am an object to you." Blue and green blazed
as she knelt down in front of the bleeding reaper. "Though you cannot walk, you
still stumble. Allow me to remove the stumbling block for you before you meet
your end." The frozen winter horror wrenched her small hands into the security
officer's mouth and wrapped her fingers around his tongue, digging her nails
deep into the wet muscle, and with a hard jerk, ripped it out in a geyser of
crimson. "Now, Adrian." The female gestured toward the suffering reaper,
pointing at him with his lying tongue. "End him mercifully." The legend
summoned his scythe and in a deadly arc, cleanly decapitated the mangled
reaper, effectively ending his misery. The petite scowled at the headless
corpse. "I am no one's object," she muttered under her breath. Kneeling down,
she placed the dead man's severed tongue in his lifeless, outstretched hand.
"The Goddess shall not suffer liars to live."
The Rarity squeaked as the mortician unexpectedly scooped her into his arms.
"You're so adorable when you squeak like that." The silver haired reaper
nuzzled silky lavender, taking in the sweet scent of mimosa blossoms for what
could very well be the last time. "I love you with all that I am and more," he
whispered in a choked, shaky voice, evidently holding back anxious tears.
"As I love you, my beautiful Adrian," the Rarity softly replied.
The fair haired lovers stole one last passionate kiss as they exited the
catacombs, entering into the din of the Great Library. Indeed, the hour had
come as half a dozen beings began descending upon them, each with their own
agenda.
***** Revelation *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts & communication =
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Hello, and thank you for reading.
     This chapter contains suicide via mind control, gore. ***You have
     been warned.***
The stern Dispatch manager was the first to greet the legend and the Rarity as
they emerged from the catacombs. "Sir, I have orders to arrest and detain you
in preparation for execution for the crime of desertion," he stated flatly
while directing his venomous glare at the lavender haired woman in the silver
reaper's arms. The legendary reaper's insane cackling further infuriated him as
he was forced to look upon the man he idolized holding a lethal weapon in a
most affectionate manner as though he were mocking him with her very presence-
no, existence. The short haired manager's eyebrow twitched with pent up rage,
and this time he was unable to control the snarl that graced his sharp features
when the experiment locked eyes with him.
~You don't scare me anymore, William T. Spears. I hold more power in my inner
eyelid than your pitiful, small minded, unexceptional, young reaper mind could
begin to comprehend. I am a predator. You are prey unworthy of my palate.~
The stoic reaper refused to show fear as the female pierced his subconscious
with her condescending criticism. "It does not change the fact that you are an
abomination."
"Oh, is that so, Mr. Spears?" the mortician cut in with dark, mocking
condescension pouring out of his velvet voice in defense of his lover.
"Sir," the bespectacled reaper began impatiently while still showing signs of
respect to the legend. "Your...mate is not the issue at the moment. May I
remind you that I am under orders to arrest and detain you for desertion. You
must accompany me to a secure location in preparation for your execution."
The silver haired man burst into a fit of mad laughter. "Isn't that cuuuuuute,
Willy?"
"And also for the possession of stolen property, it seems," a mocking voice
added from behind the legend. The blue eyed male accompanying the mocking voice
barely restrained wheezing chuckles. "Oh, and what an absolutely charming pair
the two of you make," the sarcastic male drawled as he took his place before
the legend. "Why, if that kinky little green haired bitch were still alive, I
could cut her in half and fill in the gap between you and what you think is
yours. Yes, that should even you two out," the high ranking, black haired male
pointed out in reference to the fair haired couple's height difference.
The lavender haired woman scowled at the two black haired reapers, then cupped
her hand over her lover's ear, whispering something of great importance judging
by the dark look in his phosphorescent eyes. "He's always envied me, Lovely.
I'm pleased he didn't break you," he said in a hushed voice as he tenderly
kissed the Rarity in a blatant display of affection for their enemies to see.
The reaper gently placed the weapon on the floor, holding her against him in a
possessively protective embrace. "Now then, which one of you wants to tell me
why you cloned her?" he demanded with a menacing grin as he summoned his Death
Scythe. Tapping his long nails on the female's collarbone, he issued a
challenge. "Since neither of you have the balls to answer a simple question,
I'll make you a different deal as I'm in the mood for a hunt. If you can catch
me, you are free to take me in and execute me, but you cannot, under any
circumstances, take my Lovely. She is to remain free. She is not property."
Rogue, piercing eyes full of burning wrath and singular, fanatical devotion to
an otherworldly creature bored into the two managers' sets of reaper's eyes,
daring them to oppose him. "What do you say? Care to go on a hunt?" Silver
Death's legendary hunter's eyes flashed with malice as he eyed his prey like
the mad, stalking predator he's reputed to be.
Before the younger manager spoke, the pony tailed forgery of the legend grinned
as he summoned his Death Scythe. "Challenge accepted, Mr. Crevan. I'll have
your head hanging on my wall as a trophy." With that idle threat, he launched
himself at the silver haired male while his subordinate took the opportunity to
attack the unprotected petite with a swift extension of his pruning shears.
Metal on metal ground against each other as the attack was blocked by the
spinning blade of a chainsaw.
"Sutcliff!" the enraged boss yelled through grit teeth at the grinning face of
the red reaper. "Honestly, you're nothing but a nuisance. Get out of my way!"
"I don't think so, my cold prince," the effeminate reaper purred darkly. "Not
this time." Her mouthful of razor sharp teeth twisted into a deadly snarl as
she drove her stiletto boot into her boss' crotch, taking sadistic satisfaction
in hearing him sing soprano from the pain of having his balls kicked by a
reaper in heels. "That's for the rejection over the years, you cruel bastard!"
Spatters of blood flew up, staining the red reaper's white dress shirt when she
took a swipe at the tyrant's face. "That's for all the times you've harmed a
maiden's face, you cold son of a bitch!" Sadistic rage glowed from toxic green
catlike eyes as the reaper in red banished her scythe and kicked her superior
to the floor. The entirety of her pointed teeth were exposed in a maniacal grin
as she sat astride the Dispatch manager's chest. "Don't you look so pretty
painted red," she maliciously teased while taking the beaten man's hand in
hers. "Bite or break? Whatever shall I do? How about both!" The deranged red
reaper broke each finger of the pruner wielding man in odd directions, slowly
and most painfully, and finally finished with devastating bites to the palms of
his hands. "That's what you get for torturing those little girls all the way
until adulthood, especially January. I still owe that skinny sadist an apology
for that day, no thanks to you," the redhead growled. With a flip of her hair,
she removed herself from her boss' presence and giggled to herself as she
thought of the scar her precious chainsaw would leave behind on the stoic
male's face. "A token of my love I no longer harbor for the cruel, disgusting
man." Red Death smiled at the experiment as she approached her, knowing in her
heart she did something right by her to make amends for a broken part of both
of their pasts.
                                    xxxxxx
The albino watched the pandemonium from a safe distance, relieved that the two
males left her to her own devices as they decided to pick a fight they could
not win. She shook her head and scoffed at her former "boss" and fuck toy as
Legendary Death effortlessly outmaneuvered him. The silver haired man fought
savagely, yet gracefully. "Reminds me of Marcus," the woman mused, opening the
face of her watch and gazing sadly at the memento inside. "My Goddess, could
that bastard reaper fight, and damn could he fuck." Something wet trickled down
her face from her right eye. "What the hell?" She quickly shot her hand up to
check if she was bleeding, but a clear substance graced her fingertips instead.
+Oh my Goddess! I forgot I was capable.+
More tears flowed from the single functioning eye as she thought of her
deceased lover and the many nights he'd lay with her wrapped in his arms,
forever transfixed by her ethereal beauty and the tattoo of lilies with eyes
being consumed by sharp teeth lining her sternum like a runway. As she lay
sleeping, his fingertips would slowly and delicately slide down the mark of her
rite of passage into womanhood, the crawling of her flesh waking her to a
softly smiling reaper. For almost two centuries, they had been together, and
now for the first time in over four decades, she could finally mourn his unjust
death.
+I shall avenge you, my love, Marcus. And I shall avenge she who I've never
severed from.+
For the time being, the white haired woman's thirst for vengeance would have to
wait, but it was proving to be worthwhile as she watched the petite whet her
thirst for revenge on the blue eyed fraud who committed blasphemous, perverted
acts against her for the majority of her short life.
                                    xxxxxx
~Never again.~ Two words clawed their way into the blue eyed man's subconscious
softly, darkly, sensually. ~Never again will I be your doll. Never again will I
be your fuck toy. Never again will I lose my power to you.~ Twin black eyes met
blazing blue in a deadly standoff. ~Never again will I be your test subject.~
The blue eyed male sneered at his tormentor. "That's all you're good for, my
pretty." Wheezing snickers resounded from his mouth.
=Tear apart your insides.=
His snickering soon turned to groans as mild abdominal pain steadily increased.
=Bleed.=
~I am not yours. I am his. I am Legendary Death's treasure.~ The
expressionless, motionless petite in the white gown bearing bloodstains from
the legend's sadistic kiss stared at her old enemy with gleaming black pits.
~Does it hurt? Does it hurt to know that you've been a disgraceful, lying
coward all your life? You were the one who bartered the child Rarities for the
sick perversions. You're also a fraudster and a necrophiliac. You should sleep
forever, absent of the Void, rejected by Her, banished from the Divine Light,
and forever encased in Her Holy Hatred. You must hurt like you hurt me, like
you hurt her that day in May. Do you remember Mae? Do you remember how you
vivisected her and humiliated her corpse in May and forced me to watch because
you and the other knew we were One?~
The Empath unwittingly produced a long needled syringe from within his stained,
dingy lab coat, hardly noticing it was filled with a lethal dose of the same
solution that had only rendered the winter of mass destruction unconscious. The
dosage-the entirety of the syringe-would instantly kill him. Sweat beaded on
his hairless brow and rolled down the sides of his face as he stared at the tip
of the needle only millimeters of piercing the delicate surface of his glowing
blue eye.
=Tear apart your insides.=
The Rarity's obsidian gaze never faltered from the defiant man struggling to
maintain some type of dignity. She watched in hidden amusement while the filthy
perverted fraud literally vomited chunks of his digestive system. Then, she
heard something she never thought she'd hear: the black haired rogue beg for
his life.
=BLEED~=
"Please...stop this. I don't want to die. Not like this...Please..." Blood and
bile spilled from whining, perverted lips as the male's blue glow grew dimmer
with each passing moment. Violent spasms of pain forced the Empath to his knees
in terrifying shrieks of pain. His brutish features were twisted in a mask of
erroneous regret and abject fear of dying by the hand of the weapon he helped
create. The ultimate woman would have her revenge.
~No. I show no mercy to my enemies.~
=Tear your insides OUT.=
"Please..." the man choked on the word as he spewed out more blood and lumps of
various internal organs.
~If you want mercy, the solution is in your hand.~
The male with the fading blue light pointed the syringe at his eye once more.
He was finally going to feel weaponized winter's rumored cold, sadistic wrath,
and he instantly regretted every moment of his involvement in both the eugenics
project and the secret cloning project among other things. If the charlatan
could do it over again, he would've let that long haired reaper kill him and
leave him behind to rot in the decaying stench of their now forgotten homeland
rather than lie about his credentials to save his own skin.
~Destroy yourself. Make yourself forget just as you tried to make me forget.~
"T-this i-is a l-lethal d-dose," the dying Empath weakly pointed out. A
metallic dot blurred the vision in one of his eyes as his hand moved of its own
accord, positioning the implement held within for its next task.
~I know. I also know you were saving it for me. Unfortunately for you, I have
evolved past the point of no return.~ The black pits seemed to sparkle as the
expressionless female gazed down at the repentant eugenicist. The soft, airy,
sensually malignant voice in his head seemed pleased with itself as it began
its final order. ~You'll be granting yourself mercy this way, unless you want
to-~
-"PLEASE, I'm sorry! I'm a fucking coward! Ok! I shoulda just died with the
rest of our people, goddammit!" the blue eyed pervert screeched. The
surrounding chaos stopped momentarily at the sound of his cries, then resumed
again with more interest in destroying each other than in the self destruction
of some dipshit fraud that was going to die anyway.
~Then, you know what you must do.~
The Empath robotically nodded, jammed the long needle into the inner corner of
his left eye, and pushed the plunger all the way in, releasing the lethal red
liquid. His blazing blue eyes went wide as he fell into another violent fit of
vomiting spasms before collapsing face down in a coagulating pool of his own
bleeding chunks of internal organs. The pathetic blue light in the male's eyes
faded to gray upon his last breath as a single bloody tear rolled down his
cheek, although it could have just been a tiny amount of solution left over
from the syringe still left in his eye.
The sound of metallic clicking some distance away warned of pruners on the
attack. A sharp, searing hot pain in the Rarity's arm elicited an inhuman noise
she hardly believed she was capable of producing just as she was starting to
disappear from view. Eyes as black as pitch widened in curious shock at the
huge gash and the contents contained within. Glimpses of her life on bright
celluloid swirled around inside the blood of her quickly healing wound.
Familiar strangers flashed by if only for an instant, one in particular stuck
out to her, then he was gone as was the wound, but the pain remained.
~A begging sadist?~
"Leave her alone!" a familiar feminine voice shouted as the Rarity collapsed to
the ground, nursing the freshly healed scythe wound.
"Emily?" the lavender lady called out.
"I'm here, Stella," the other replied while keeping an eye on her seriously
injured attacker. "We must end this. The minutes are ticking down as your hour
has struck." The pained woman nodded in agreement. "Tell them, Martin, or I
will," the female scientist demanded. "Answer Adrian Crevan's question. Tell
him what you told me when I had you on your back, begging me not to stop. I had
no idea that one eye could be that effective over the years, and here I thought
you were much stronger." The female sneered at the high ranking reaper. "Tell
everyone here why you used my Sister in the Goddess as an object to clone! I'm
sure her mate will be absolutely thrilled to hear it."
Silence fell upon the library as all fighting ceased. The pole of pruners
retracted from their second attempt at attacking the lavender Rarity, humbly
finding their way back to their respective owner. The two elder reapers faced
the demanding female, regarding her with curiosity for their own reasons.
*Lovely.*
The silver reaper's murderous glare softened momentarily as his eyes met the
mismatched, glowing jewels resting in onyx cabochons of the petite woman he'd
somehow always loved, and become fanatically devoted to for a little over a
year. Soft smiles were exchanged between the fair haired lovers. Despite the
surrounding carnage, it felt as though they were the only ones in the universe
as they exchanged subtly glowing glances with each other.
~You're so precious to me.~
*And you are my treasure.*
Something about the look in the weapon's eyes as she stood among the wreckage
brought on an involuntary, albeit, pleasant memory.
                                    xxxxxx
"Can I see?" he asked, trailing black nails down the tattooed length of her
back, followed by soft kisses. She giggled as silver strands brushed against
her smooth skin in the morning light. He never noticed until now that her flesh
literally crawled under his soft caress as if it were chasing after the
sensation like an addict in search of their next fix. Both lovers indulged in
each other like the gluttons they were. He was especially happy now that he had
completely claimed her. With her surrender to him, he could now bask in the
beauty of her naked glory in the light of day without fear of triggering shame
in her volatile psyche from the brutal memories of her past.
"See what, my silver love?" she asked as she lazily turned over and stared at
her lover's scarred visage with softly glowing, half lidded eyes. A barely
visible network of hair thin scars criss-crossing the petite's body, no doubt
from the experiments, reflected silvery lines over pale skin in the progressing
light of the morning sun. "Vivisections," she whispered, taking his hand and
guiding it over the Y-incision. "I was awake most of the time, but I don't
remember much. They gave me shots afterward...but it's ok now because I'm with
you." Her eyes dimmed at her frowning lover. "I...Are you going to punish me? I
didn't mean to anger you."
His piercing eyes met the unpolished gems disappearing into the night. "Lovely,
I will never punish you. Please don't think that way anymore. What kind of man
would I be if I punished the One I'm in love with? It is not you who angers me,
it's the bastards who did this to you that anger me."
Her Aurora Borealis eyes visibly brightened again at her lover's meaningful
reassurance as she pulled him in for a fiery kiss. He affectionately nuzzled
her head with his. "What do you wish to see, Adrian?"
"Your inner eyelids. Blink them slowly for me. I'm curious to know what they
look like," he purred in a persuasive, velvet voice.
"You're a madman, Adrian," her words came out as pleasured moans as he trailed
soft kisses up and down the sides of her neck, stopping at the certain place
behind her right ear, teasing her with slow rolls of the tongue with each soft,
sweet kiss on the sensitive flesh. "Oh Goddess, Adrian, you sadistic bastard,
and the nails, too!" she breathed as he skimmed the soft surface of her skin
with the tips of his onyx talons.
"I'm legendary in more ways than one," he quipped with veiled innuendo. "Then
again, you already know that."
"Ok, you win. Dammit, Adrian, look." She sat in the light at just the right
angle, close enough for her silver love to see given his bad eyesight, and
blinked each set of eyelids independently of each other in slow succession.
"Satisfied?"
For a brief second he saw himself reflected in her inner eyelids before the
thin, outer skin covered them again. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed
her with tender passion. "Absolutely breathtaking."
                                    xxxxxx
The silver haired man quickly snapped himself out of the pleasant memory and
back to bitter reality. He needed to remain focused on the woman he's fiercely
devoted to right here, right now, in this moment.
*Who is this white haired woman and what is she on about?*
"Emily, what the hell are you talking about?" the reaper with the high, black
pony tail huffed. "What the fuck do you mean by 'one eye'? Shit, I always knew
you were religious, but where did this sudden zealotry come from?"
The white haired woman cracked a menacing grin. "You really don't get it, do
you?" She laughed at the uninjured black haired reaper's growing frustration.
"I am the same as her," she revealed, pointing at the lavender haired petite.
"I only have one functioning eye, Martin. This one is fake." A squishy pop
echoed through the silent library as the newly revealed Rarity removed the
false green eye, exposing an empty void on the left side of her face that had
been robbed of the glowing sapphire jewel it once housed.
"What the-" the high ranking reaper was cut off.
"First order of business: survival. I am the Prophet of my people. I had to do
what it took to keep Stella alive, even if it meant playing your whore in the
project you masterminded. The Conduit is here and it is her. The Prophecy will
be fulfilled. You can vanquish Nightmares, Martin. You have the arrogance to
take on a Legend, Martin, but still you fear Shadows. I wonder why that is?"
The albino held the fraudulent eye between her thumb and forefinger. "Marcus
took my eye. I miss him dearly. To answer your question from earlier, him and I
were together for nearly two centuries. He was there after you took her, and
then you had the audacity to send your bitch to take him from me and from them.
He was the only father they knew!" the albino shouted in reference to the
petite's loss. She turned and faced the injured Dispatch manager with green
fire burning hot vengeance in her sole eye. "May the Goddess curse you, William
T. Spears. May Her burning Wrath come down upon you without mercy. You took the
only man I've ever loved and the only father she ever knew. You stole her
dignity, you broke her, you objectified her, you stole her from the Shadow who
tried in vain to protect her-you and Martin both-and you showed no mercy or
compassion to her even once when she begged you for it. The Goddess shows no
mercy to Her enemies and neither do we. The Conduit is here, and the Goddess
will avenge Her Choicest Fruit and the wrongs done them through her. In the
name of the Goddess, I curse you, William T. Spears. You will die."
+How did you not know?+
~I had a feeling, but I didn't want to say anything.~
+A wise decision. Are you ready to stand with me as Sisters in the Eyes of our
Mistress?+
~Let us end it in its natural course as She intends.~
+You are wise in spite of your youth.+
The reaper with the golden glasses tried to wrap his closed mind around the
recent revelation put forth by the albino he once had his heart set on
claiming. From the corner of his chartreuse eye, the twisted body of the male
Empath lying face down in a pool of his own acid eaten insides made him
temporarily forget about the woman's blabbering curses. "Did you do that?" he
accused, pointing at Emily.
"I did," the petite confidently admitted. "He felt the need to make his final
exit, so I helped him."
"Her work is really quite lovely. Hehehe. I've had the pleasure of making them
beautiful for the most important day of their lives," the mortician piped in,
laughing wildly at his own irony. He smiled down to his significantly shorter
lover. "Isn't that right, Lovely?"
Despite the grave danger she was in, the way the legendary reaper smiled at her
made tumblers in the lock of her secret place start to turn in rapid
succession. "Yes," she replied softly with a dusting of pink spreading over her
cheeks.
*You look so cute when you blush.*
His sweet thought jovially dancing in her head only served to deepen her blush
from an innocent pink to a fevered red.
"Crevan, I don't even know where to start. You've always been strange, but-"
The copy was cut off by the original this time. "Then answer my question. Why
did you clone my Lovely?" His tone was dark and intimidating. His acidic eyes
held a malicious intent to kill within their insane depths. Within seconds, the
silver haired reaper's crescent blade was at the other man's throat. "This is
getting boring. You've always envied me. The pieces of shit that couldn't take
my weapon envied me and they paid with their lives for trying to take what's
mine. Now you wish to harm my Lovely. It isn't just envy with you, Gaines.
We've sparred before and you've lost. I doubt you could stand up to Grell."
The redhead perked up at hearing her name and flashed the silver reaper a
toothy grin. "I'm not even fired up today, and see what I can do." She winked
and pointed at the injured manager with her nail file. He was still standing
tall in spite of the healing cuts, bruises and broken bones. "The one on his
face is from my chainsaw, but I have my reasons," she said nonchalantly as she
resumed filing her nails.
"Hell hath no fury, Spears..." the silver reaper burst into a round of maniacal
laughter.
"Crevan, it's none of your fucking business what I do with my property!" the
katana wielding reaper roared, immediately silencing the mad mortician's
outburst of laughter.
"It is my business what you do with my mate. She is not property, nor is she an
object. She is a woman, and she is to remain free!" the silver legend stated
emphatically as a menacing grin spread over his lips.
"It's a weapon, Crevan! Stop thinking with your dick and get it through your
thick skull!" the other retorted, taking a swing at the silver haired reaper
with the sharp blade of his katana only to have it blocked by the legendary
crescent blade of the mad reaper.
The Rarities watched alongside Red Death as the elder reapers fought over the
petite. Like the red reaper, they were growing bored with the spectacle. Unlike
the red reaper, they had a vested interest in exposing the high ranking, katana
wielding asshole for what he is. "Her mind is a weapon, you fool!" the
exasperated albino snapped. "You started 'Project 0' covertly at the latter
phase of the eugenics project. After I fucked you senseless, you told me, and I
quote: 'January is the ultimate weapon. I don't actually intend to destroy it,
but to keep it and study it, and build an army of clones capable of total
destruction.' Then, as an aside, you mentioned your concern for keeping the
clones free of independent thought should they be merged with the Will of the
Formless One. I have bad news for you, sunshine, they recognized Adrian Crevan
and rejected the Will."
"How do you know?" both long haired reapers inquired in unison.
The albino grinned knowingly and pointed to her empty eye socket. "I am the
Seer and the Prophet of my people."
***** Extraction *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for stopping by and checking out my story. I'm sorry for the
     ultra slow update. I've been dealing with some stupid issues outside
     the world of fanfic, writing, and my chief occupation of art in
     general. So, yes, I will be finishing this fic.
     This isn't one of my best chapters as it is primarily OC-centric, but
     it does have a bit of backstory regarding my OCs and how it all ties
     together with Undertaker in order to provide more depth. Spoilers for
     the upcoming multi chap may be hiding within the text. Light yuri as
     part of a religious ritual contained within. Remember the OCs are
     from a totally different culture. ***You have been warned.***
The Prophet held the lavender winter close in a protective, sisterly embrace as
she narrowed her remaining eye at the black haired copy of the legend. "I am
the Servant of my Mistress as is she, and it has been my duty to see to it that
Stella lives to fulfill the Goddess' Holy Word."
The bitter, black haired reaper sourly laughed at the abnormally tall albino
and the glaring petite. "So, you're both zealous whores?"
"No, just me," the albino flatly admitted. "What she did was against her will."
"How rich! Crevan, I didn't know you had it in you! You devoted yourself to a
whore!" the katana wielder mocked. "I told you that thing is just property."
The silver reaper simply responded with silent fury flashing in his acidic eyes
as he attacked the man who always envied him with the legendary crescent blade
of his Death Scythe. The more cruel the words hurled from the imposing reaper's
mouth regarding the petite were, the more bloodthirsty her mate became. The
fighting grew to a frenzied pace as the high ranked reaper hurled more insults
at the silver haired man. Three more reapers jumped into the fight; the
chainsaw wielder and her junior coming to defend the angry, obsidian eyed
Rarity, and the now healed Dispatch manager coming to oppose them.
+There is something I must tell you, but we must go.+
The petite nodded in agreement with her Sister in the Goddess still clutching
her tightly. Together they vanished to a private place, narrowly avoiding the
chaotic onslaught of Death Scythes as the fighting intensified.
                                    xxxxxx
Somewhere within the shadows, a presence who was everywhere and nowhere at once
just happened to pass by at a most inopportune time. The darkness in the depths
of his eyes made the deepest pits of Hell shine like the sun, and the deep
seeded emotion glaring down at the black haired men made his customary wrath
appear happy in comparison as he observed the degrading exchange below. More
than anything, he wanted to go back in time and give in to his feelings, just
this once. His fingers drifted down the curved spike in his left ear as they
often do when he thinks of her.
"I know you're none of the cruel things they say about you, my beautiful love,"
he whispered in an eerily haunting voice into the shadows. "I've always known."
                                    xxxxxx
The Rarities' glowing eyes lit up a dark corner of the catacombs nearby the
place where silver and lavender made love for what would be the last time the
petite would remember him as she is at present. They felt at peace in each
other's arms away from the violence, away from the cruel epithets always spewed
forth by others regarding not only their race, but their way of life as
Rarities. The Prophet and the Conduit took brief respite in each other,
counting down the minutes of the struck hour.
"I loved him, you know," the albino began. "Had I not vowed to never sever from
her, I would've let Marcus claim me. It was Martin who killed her in the most
disgraceful of ways. He flayed her right after raping her just because she was
a demoness. She wronged no one, nor did she scorn the Goddess. She knew of my
role and always encouraged me to keep my faith." The unusually tall Empath
opened her watch face. "Shortly after she was slain by that bastard I played
the whore to for so many years, I met Marcus and a friend of his. Marcus and I
fell in love and the rest is history. I still keep in contact with his friend
from time to time."
"Are you talking about Adrian?" the petite Rarity inquired.
"No," the taller female inaudibly whispered with guilt heavily weighing her
heart. "I've known that he was destined for you from the moment you spoke of
him. I could tell by the strange glow in your eyes. The one I speak of is
someone else. He is a Shadow feared among all but Legends and Nightmares. He
wanted me to tell you that he never thought of you as an object."
The petite's mismatched eyes glowed with dull confusion as any chance at
reclaiming the memory evaded her. "I don't know who you're talking about. I
forgot all about Adrian for the longest time, and if it wasn't for..." Tears
began to fall as she trailed off thinking about how her silver love was always
so gentle with her and so devoted to her and always there to pull her back to
the light from the darkness of other realities. "I may never have remembered."
"I know," the albino softly cooed. "Would you like to know who it is that's
suffering over you?"
"I'd rather know more about what all of this means," the weapon anxiously
demanded. "Why me? How do these people know me? Somehow, I know of the ancients
of Adrian's race, but I don't know who they are. I remember our homeland being
destroyed, but I don't remember it. I know my memory wasn't erased, but I can't
help but feel as though parts of it have been purposefully extracted. Whether
out of malicious intent or random chance, I know not." Vibrant azure and grass
green irises lit up the darkness they rested within as she made her pleas.
"Like you, I made a vow to never sever from my silver love, and I also
requested that he alone reap me when the time comes."
"You are merged with the Formless One, therefore-"
"-I cannot be collected," the petite finished. "When the Eye aligned Itself to
the appointed hour, the Goddess revealed a great many things to me. I will find
a way, and it will be revealed at the appointed time. He will know, as will I.
The Formless One has been accepted by our Mistress, Emily. I am One with it in
complete totality. If we sever, we also sever from him, and vows will be
broken."
The lavender haired woman's unexpected revelation caught the white Rarity
totally off guard. "How did you...How..."
"The night Legendary Death claimed me, I knew what it felt like to feel wanted,
to feel truly desired, to feel pain wrapped in pleasure without
objectification, to feel loved. When I slept, the Formless One awoke and beheld
my love, and spoke its first words aloud, and despite the hideous sound of its
voice, my love still showed it the same gentleness and devotion he shows me.
The Formless One freely chose to learn love, and when it speaks to him..." The
female's hands shot out and gripped the Prophet's head by various pressure
points. She locked her glowing eyes on the other's single green light and
descended on her in an invasive, ritualistic kiss.
The albino winced as two consciousnesses invaded her mind. =I am she. She is
me. We are One. One mind, One being, unseverable. We can exist as One with
Legendary Death as he does with us. I feel what she feels. Her love is my love.
My love is her love. We are his, Legendary Death's treasure with whom we will
never sever.=
Long fingers slid through lavender silk, seeking out the other's pressure
points as the ritual continued with each female passionately extracting
unspoken secrets from the other. +You truly are the Conduit. I can die avenging
my lost loves with honor. Stella, how I wish our homeland wasn't destroyed by
beautiful harbingers of death and destruction. The dual suns shined bright in a
blood red sky every long day, and the silver moon hung lowly against short,
dark nights dotted with bright stars. When the gentle breeze blew swirling sand
around the monument to our Mother, it gave us hope that the Day would come soon
that those who wronged us would burn in her Divine Wrath, that we would take
the desert for our own save for those who did right by us. When I was your age,
our homeland still had faith. The desert was still at peace and Rarities could
still roam freely among their own people without fear. There was no starvation.
The Famine came upon the heel of the genocide of the Transcendentals and the
resulting war of retribution we fought with the angels.+
~Famine?~
+The other Empaths turned against us due to our vulgar display of power. They
began to fear us and our power. They underestimated just how brutal we can be
when provoked. Those of us who took lovers of our own race were spurned,
completely denied of that which we need the most out of everything,-+
~-Affection.~
+We were shunned and isolated, and since the Famine, it became mandatory for
parents to give their infant Rarities up to the Temple, whereas in the past, it
was voluntary. Demons may be bothersome at times, but they have always been
allies to Rarities in the past.+
The petite maneuvered herself on top of the former eugenicist as she tasted her
divine secrets. =I have shielded her from the ugliest parts of the past and I
shall continue to do so until the time comes. Her secrets, reveal them to me.=
The abnormally tall Rarity capitulated to the Ikiryo's demand without delay.
The petite's large, lupine eyes went wide as she was flipped onto her back,
overpowered by the dominant female sharing the ugliest parts of the past with
the darkest part of her. Blurred images flowing between two conscious minds not
her own passed by, some of which she recognized, others she didn't. Then, she
saw him again. The same one on the blood soaked celluloid from the freshly
healed scythe wound on her arm. Empathetic tears streamed down her face at the
sight of the familiar stranger's anguish. Empathy turned to mortified guilt as
images of herself in a large, brightly lit room,
~The library!~
cowering before her lover in fear, begging not to be punished flashed before
her. The last thing she caught a glimpse of was the trademark grin betraying
the sympathetic sadness in his eyes while he studied her as she was trapped
between his reality and hers. ~Oh my Goddess, why?~
The albino stopped the ritual with concern glowing in her sole, green eye. "Are
you ok, Stella?" she softly asked, wiping away the girl's tears. "You saw him,
didn't you?"
"Yes, I still don't know who he is, but he looks so sad and empty. I saw
Adrian, too, on a day I don't remember, but I saw myself cowering in fear of
him. He had his big, creepy grin on his face, but his eyes were so sad because
he didn't understand why I was begging him not to punish me." The female bowed
her head and let slip a few bitter tears. "I don't even remember that day," she
tearfully confessed.
"You were trapped between two realities. The last time you blocked something
like that out in totality was when you hit Mae, but she knew what happened to
you and she knew you sacrificed your power for her, so she never retaliated or
became angry. She merely sympathized and never wanted to leave your side. Mae
always knew you belonged to Adrian," the albino woman revealed. "She was so
perceptive. You still miss her and he knows it. How does he feel about your
attachment to her in relation to his possessive nature?"
"Sympathetic," the divine creature answered truthfully. "He knows she and I
were special to each other, he knows of our culture's beliefs, and he knows
that it was Fate-Her Will-that brought him and I together." Small fingers
traced the outline of the taller woman's void eye socket. "How will you avenge
Marcus and the demoness you remain bonded to if you sacrificed half the power
you need to do so?"
"I don't know, but I'll find a way."
"I'll let you share the Formless One with me if it grants you its permission.
You are a Rarity just as I am, and no longer should you play the whore to
Martin Gaines. He stole the man and woman you loved, and by the laws of our
faith, he must die by your hand, and yours alone. The Formless One's Will can
compensate for your sacrifice. Do you want to try?" The petite's intensely
demanding lights gave the Prophet no other choice but to yield to her logic.
"Close your eye," the Conduit commanded softly as she took the female's hands
in hers.
~One.~
=One.=
~We are One.~
=We are One.=
~Loved ones stolen must be avenged. She who cared for you decades ago
sacrificed much of her power, thus, preventing her to avenge her loss according
to the laws of our faith.~
=Emily, you cared for me in years past when others of your race despised me. I
shall repay your kindness and share consciousness with you and she. Be warned,
you are not she. I will be a parasite to you, and should the remainder of me
not be given back to she, you will descend into an abyss of madness from which
there is no way out. Fulfill the laws of your faith and return the rest of me
to she.=
+I am grateful for your kindness, Formless One.+
=And I, yours, Prophet.=
Delicate fingers slowly slid through white tresses as the petite pulled the
older Rarity in for a passionate kiss, allowing her to extract enough of the
Formless One's Will to compensate for the sacrificial sapphire. Both females
purred from the painful pleasure of the ritual extraction as a merging of three
minds took place.
~One.~
=One.=
+One.+
~=+We are One.+=~
+I shall avenge her and my love, Marcus.+
                                    xxxxxx
When the Rarities reappeared amidst the chaos, the silver haired reaper noticed
something different about the icy weapon's eyes-no, all of her-as though she
emerged enlightened from a month long dark retreat. The tall albino beside her
was a malicious phantom with a single black pit and an emerald glaring in vivid
brightness against black velvet at the pony tailed reaper fighting against a
madman and a very pissed off redhead. Both ethereal women with darkness
surrounding brilliant jewels strategically observed the reapers fighting over
the legend's fate, and their hearts went out to the young, blond reaper with
the awkward contraption stuck fighting his fully healed, tyrant boss on his
own. The mortician glanced back again at the Rarities, and indeed, his blurry
vision was not playing tricks on him, both otherworldly women standing silently
in the midst of slashing blades housed the Ikiryo.
*Shared consciousness.*
***** Traitors *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's thoughts and communication =
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for stopping by and giving my story a good once over. Almost
     done. Yay! So, who's ready for an accidental confession of love from
     one reaper to another, and an emotional outburst from William T.
     Spears? You knew it was coming. William's eyebrow can only twitch so
     much before he loses his temper. Oh yeah, can't forget about reaper
     drama!!!
     This chapter contains suicide via mind control, gore, disembowelment,
     disparaging remarks regarding Grell's gender. ***You have been
     warned.***
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The parasitic albino and the petite stood calmly, strategically watching and
waiting amongst the fighting reapers. To them, the reasons for the fighting had
become nothing more than trite excuses since they had emerged from the
catacombs as a single consciousness. The season of the winter was drawing to
its end and the albino had yet to carry out her revenge by the laws of her
people. Neither Rarity cared anymore about the onslaught of Death Scythes
blindly flying about in varying directions, many of the blows narrowly missing
them. Time was neither their friend nor their foe, it merely existed as a
guidepost of the Goddess' plan for the Conduit. Watching, waiting,
strategically sensing their environment as the reapers fought over the fate of
divinity. What a petty reason to shed blood.
~This ends now.~
+Agreed, Sister.+
                                    xxxxxx
Bones cracked with sickening loudness and massive quantities of blood gushed
from a vicious puncture wound to the blond reaper's shoulder by the business
end of his boss' pruning shears. A shriek of pain slipped from the young
reaper's mouth as he fell to the floor grasping at his profusely bleeding
shoulder, resulting in the relinquishment of his beloved lawnmower.
Unfortunately, the redhead wasn't quick enough to block the deadly precision of
the pruners with her chainsaw in time to prevent her subordinate's injury. Torn
between her junior's cries for help and acting on her homicidal rage and
painting the former object of her desire's drab little world a beautiful red,
she chose the former. Red just didn't suit her cute little subordinate.
The normally stoic reaper cast aside his facade and allowed his hidden rage to
show itself to anyone who dared to look. With a considerable amount of blood
coagulating on his face from the gnarled cut courtesy of Red Death's chainsaw,
the devil himself would piss his pants in fear at the deranged fury aflame in
the golden green eyes of the Dispatch manager. "SUTCLIFF! You and Knox have
been nothing but thorns in my side! YOU, especially!" His furious roar burst
from his mouth like fire. "If I had my way, I would have killed you during our
final exam, but no, you had to save my ass from those fucking runaway records,
thereby putting me in your debt! Fuck you, Sutcliff! No one loves you! No one
ever will! No one here even likes you! You're nothing but a worthless freak!
Get it through your thick skull, girly boy! You. Are. Nothing! Stop pretending
you're a woman, you worthless guttersnipe, and maybe, just maybe, people around
here might show your stupid ass some of the respect you crave."
The pretty red reaper held back tears from hearing the disparaging words spoken
by her boss. Though she didn't love him anymore, it still didn't change the
fact that it hurt to have such cruel things said to and about her, especially
regarding her gender. "You mean nothing to me, William. I stopped loving you
when I found out what you did, when I found her half dead, bound to a table in
some isolated room, and when I found out what you did to those little girls.
I'm not entirely without morals, William. It's just that mine don't align with
what passes for yours."
"You're wrong, Spears-senpai!" the injured lawnmower wielder shouted. "Grell-
senpai has plenty of friends, and I...I love her. So, you can take what you
said and shove it up your ass!"
The red reaper blushed slightly upon hearing her junior's sudden confession.
"Looks like you're wrong again, William. Are you mad because Undertaker's in
love with January? You keep glaring at her every time she looks at him. Gods,
you are so boring!" The redhead turned on her heel in an angry huff with a flip
of her blood red hair and headed toward her subordinate to render him aid. At
the sound of enraged pruners extending in her direction, the reaper in red
efficiently dodged the attack without turning around or looking back. "Really,
William, I think you like it when I play with my chainsaw. You and I both know
I can kill you with my bare hands and your precious pole won't be able to
protect you." The reaper's toxic green, catlike eyes glared murderous fury at
the tyrant as she peeked over her shoulder. "And I don't have to fly into a fit
of rage to do that, either." Red Death continued her approach to the injured
reaper, leaving a furious black haired manager in her wake.
"I meant what I said, Grell," the mowing reaper reaffirmed. "I've loved you for
a while now. I just didn't know how to tell you because you're my senpai and
all."
The redhead bit her lip and stared into her subordinate's eyes, except she
couldn't really look at him that way anymore. "That made me feel really
special." Before he could respond, the red god of death kissed the young man
that had been harboring feelings for her since the day they met with smoldering
passion. "Let's get you to the infirmary, Ronnie. No offense, but blood red
doesn't suit you."
A soft smile graced the parasitic albino's features as she beheld the red and
yellow reapers. +I knew the day would come when they would find love with each
other. It shall surely last.+
                                    xxxxxx
The petite Rarity watched her silver haired lover fight with fluid savagery
from a new perspective, one she was just beginning to understand. She felt
nostalgic
~As in the days before the experiments.~
and enlightened at the same time.
~I am One in absolute Totality.~
She was complete although at the moment she was sharing consciousness with the
Prophet, nevertheless, the feeling didn't change. She had her silver reaper
from whom she would never sever and that was all that mattered to her in the
end. She began to cry, wishing the ordeal could just be over. Better yet,
wishing that it never happened, that she would be tucked safely in the legend's
arms, bodies entwined, sleeping peacefully with his thin, silver braid twisted
around her delicate fingers. "Why can't we just divert from Her plan, just this
once?" she murmured.
~We will never sever.~
The lavender petite's eyes glowed in awe as the man of legendary beauty moved
at inhuman speed with the graceful balance of a cat to avoid the incoming
thrust of the pony tailed reaper's katana. The cacophony of shouts at the other
side of the room were drowned out by the woman's singular focus on the way the
legend's silver hair swirled about him as he moved, reigniting the feeling of
nostalgia within her consciousness.
"You're pretty...your hair looks like moonbeams. He's the pretty one, right
Mae-Mae?..."
Another current of tears washed over her pale face when she remembered where
the nostalgic feeling came from. "Your hair looks like moonbeams...You're my
pretty one, Adrian."
Something silver glinting in the bright lights of the library near the male
Empath's corpse captured the Rarity's attention. The blade of a knife, perhaps?
~A silver knife cleverly concealed within a ragged brown coat of the psychotic
killer rapist in a dark, dirty alley waiting for the easiest prey...It was that
day that I caused death to escape death only to take refuge in the arms of
Death. A refuge that soon became my home.~
Just like that day, a silver knife had been hiding inside the male's inner
pocket. Without anyone noticing, the petite stole away the knife within the
folds of her gown to the best of its severely limited ability. Unlike in times
past, she would now have total control over the sharp object as her time was
now.
                                    xxxxxx
The silver reaper landed a near devastating blow to his opponent who jumped
back in time, narrowly escaping disembowelment. Darkness flashed over
chartreuse double irises as the badly mauled copy of the legend glared into
phosphorescent green when the sudden realization hit him that he was sporting a
long, deep gash over his abdomen, courtesy of Legendary Death.
"You're welcome," the madman drawled sarcastically between insane bouts of
laughter. "Consider it payback with interest for the pinky." The grinning mad
reaper wiggled his scarred pinky finger at the envious ancient. "Why so
envious, Gaines? You've always been this way with me. It can't be my charm and
wit. No...wait, is it the manifestation of fear that inspires all to throw
themselves at my mercy? No...that was Marcus...Oh, wait, I know! It's because I
can be everywhere and nowhere at the same time...no, that's the Gray Shadow. I
remember now, Gaines, why you're so envious of me. Because I don't have to do a
fucking thing to get what I want. I look at them and they throw themselves at
me for the reaping. That's something you could never accomplish." The silver
legend's malicious grin grew darker as he continued taking pot shots at his
enemy, both physically and mentally.
"Fuck you, Crevan! You and those two bastards were just sadistic assholes when
you weren't reaping," the other accused as he lunged at the legend, aiming for
his heart, only to be effortlessly blocked by the underside of the massive
crescent blade. "You have just as much of a blood thirsty reputation as that
scrawny asshole who calls himself my boss. Does your mate know about your
killing sprees from eons past? Does she know you'll fuck a woman and turn
around and fuck a man, too? In fact, are you even aware of the sick shit that
she's done?"
Maniacal laughter filled the room, however, acidic wrath boiled in the depths
of the mad legend's eyes instead of the customary mirth that usually
accompanied that particular laugh. "I believe I did, and if I remember
correctly, we made alternative use of a coffin that night...many times. It's
more than just envy with you. You want what I have, but you will never get it.
All you have is cruelty...so crude, don't you think? Sadism, on the other hand,
is cruelty with class." The cackling madman took his time strategically landing
small blows to his opponent's extremities as he goaded him on to expend his
remaining energy. "Doesn't this remind you of the good old days, hm? Only this
time I'm going to kill you."
A wide, malicious grin on the legendary reaper's scarred visage was the high
ranking reaper's cue to quickly strategize as he was never able to guess what
the silver haired man was thinking once he had that look on his face. As soon
as he turned his back in a desperate bid to outmaneuver his revenge driven
opponent, the angry, burning pain of splitting skin and free flowing blood
alerted his senses to the fact that a certain crescent blade of a certain Death
Scythe just slashed his back open down to the bone. Overwhelmed by the massive
blood loss and burning torture his body inflicted upon him, the black haired
reaper with the golden glasses fell to the floor on the verge of
unconsciousness until something, or rather, someone inside his head prevented
it. Incidentally, that same force also happened to stop his attacker from
driving his wicked Death Scythe straight into his chest.
+No, not yet.+ The white haired woman's cold, husky voice pierced through her
ex boss' subconscious.
"What the hell?" The reaper felt himself being lifted into an upright position.
"Emily, what's going on here?"
+You can't have her. She is mine. I was never yours, nor will I ever be no
matter how much you wanted me. I will avenge her and I will avenge Marcus. I
will avenge the sins you committed against the Conduit according to the laws of
my faith. No longer am I playing your whore. I am redeeming myself in the Eyes
of my Mother.+
=Your implement of Death is one carried by those who value honor. A concept of
which you have no grasp.=
+You are not worthy of your own godhood. You who raped and flayed my beloved
while she was still alive for the sole reason of her being one from the depths
of Hell.+
"That demon bitch was yours? You refused me because of some fucking demon? And
Marcus, too?" the raven haired reaper exclaimed in disbelief. "You knew how I
felt about you. I told you only once, but you know how I am. I told you, and I
meant it, that I'd forgo all others if you'd be mine, but to know that you
bound yourself to a demon...I don't even know what to say! It's repulsive!
Emily, dammit, I really did love you," the high ranking reaper said lowly. "I
did what you asked that day. I didn't hurt her."
+Yet you still regard her as nothing more than property, an object, a whore,
not the divine being she is. You did it for me, not because you wanted to.+
The reaper unconsciously pointed his katana at himself. "If only you knew,
Emily."
                                    xxxxxx
The youngest of the three remaining reapers decided to take advantage of his
elders' states of duress and attack the unoccupied weapon while he could. The
stone faced manager extended his pruners, aiming for the lavender haired girl's
throat, however, his effort was thwarted when he suddenly found himself sailing
through the air until he hit the wall on the opposite side of the room with a
hard thud. Dust and chunks of marble fell into the Dispatch manager's
disheveled hair as he was pushed further into the crater his body formed within
the wall. Mismatched, glowing eyes blazing with the fury of the Goddess glared
at the dazed pruner wielder.
~Leave us alone, Spears.~
The short haired reaper tried in vain to shake the petite's voice free from his
mind, but had no luck as she was the key that unlocked the fortress of his
mind. He tried to push himself free from the crater in the wall, but as long as
her glaring eyes were trained on him, he was immobilized with no choice but to
watch the events before him unfold and to deal with...her.
~Why do you hate Rarities, Spears? Why do you hate me? I have never wronged
you.~
"Please refrain from associating yourself with me," the pinned reaper gritted
out from between clenched teeth. "It's bad enough that you have corrupted
Crevan."
~I have corrupted no one, Spears. Adrian was free to throw me out of his home
and his life at any time, and he still is. I will not object to his choice,
however, I will know whether or not his choice was truly his. One does not cage
a wild animal and expect it to be happy in its confines. Again, tell me how I
corrupted Adrian.~
The usually stoic reaper unsuccessfully tried to move for a second time. "You
have him indoctrinated into that ridiculous cult of yours!" he shouted.
~I had no idea that you were such a comedian, Spears! Adrian is free to believe
as he chooses, and his choices do not include my religion. I love him the way
he is: sadistic, affectionate, beautiful, wild, and free.~
The fuming, suit clad reaper growled at the girl. "I still think you're a lying
whore. I remember how you corrupted him fifty-one years ago when we destroyed
your filthy realm. It's because of YOU that he deserted! If Jones hadn't of
brought you and that little green haired bitch back...If you would've just kept
your filthy, whore mouth shut and just not talked to him...He falls so easily
for flattery..." The enraged manager trailed off, glaring loathing revulsion at
the petite, unable to coherently finish a thought.
~You do realize I was five at the time.~
"I don't care! Your childish flattery turned two good reapers into traitors!"
the pruner wielding man bellowed.
~Speaking of traitors, take a look at your boss. Not even I was completely
aware that I was being cloned, although I had my suspicions. Did you?~
"For the most part, no," the lower ranked manager answered truthfully as he
looked upon the tall female's wrath being unleashed upon his boss. "How much
more repulsive can your race get?"
~Vengeance is in the eye of the beholder, Spears. He took what was hers, now
she's paying him back in kind according to our laws and customs. It's no
stranger than what you were planning to do with Adrian, and more humane than
what you've done to me and what the two of you allowed to happen to my Sisters.
The Goddess is wise. She is kind and merciful to those who do right by Her, and
merciless who wrong Her and Her Choicest Fruit.~
                                    xxxxxx
+If only I knew what, Martin?+
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, and neither would he," the black haired
copy of a legend hissed.
"Oh, do tell, I would like to know what it is I wouldn't believe," the silver
haired man drawled from his uncomfortable position suspended in midair.
"No, I don't believe I will. I won't give you the satisfaction of giving you
everything you want, Crevan," the forgery spat through pained groans.
+Maaaartin+ The parasitic Empath's haunting, husky voice cooed from deep within
his mind. +Maaaartin, do yourself a favor and put yourself out of your misery.
I know those cuts must hurt. Does it hurt, Martin? Does it hurt the way I hurt
for years after you took the ones I loved from me?+
=The blood of the corrupt burns like fire.=
The black haired reaper screamed louder and louder until it became a shrill,
demonic shriek as his bleeding wounds began eating the surrounding flesh like
corrosive acid. "I did what was necessary and you know it!" he shouted through
mouthfuls of boiling blood.
+Was any of it truly necessary?+
Anguished shrieks followed in response as the corroding man's katana inched
closer to his stomach.
+It hurts doesn't it? Feel as I feel. Burn as I burn. My vengeance is your
pain. My wrath is your end. Atone for your sins, Martin Gaines. Finish the cut
he started. Let it go. Let it all go, and perhaps all may be forgiven in the
next world.+
The shrieking reaper plunged his Death Scythe deep into his abdomen and slashed
it open, using the mortician's fresh gash as a guide. Rancid, sizzling guts
eagerly jumped out of their respective flesh encasement to their foul death on
the marble floor below. As with those who fell victim to the prototype, the
corrosive blooded, flesh eaten forgery of a legend would also have records
refusing to leave its burnt out husk.
+That's better.+
The white Rarity released her grip on the elder reapers' realities as one
collapsed in a pool of boiling blood and acid eaten guts, and the other landed
awkwardly on his feet growling out a long string of expletives. She smiled to
herself in satisfaction without a single care that the silver reaper was
glaring curious daggers at her for denying him his kill. "Yes, that's better,"
she quietly mused. "My vengeance is mine and has been done unto he who wronged
me."
Chapter End Notes
     Take note, Grell will always be referred to as the pretty lady she is
     unless the context call for the use of a masculine pronoun. If Grell
     says she's a she, then dammit, she's a she!
***** Sacrifice *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts
     the Yurei/Ikiryo's innermost thoughts =
     Emily's innermost thoughts +
     Thanks for the reads, it's much appreciated. Well now, I'm almost
     through with this wonderful story of twisting, turning, fateful
     weirdness. Fantastic!
     This chapter contains light yuri and suicide. ***You have been
     warned.***
     Enjoy.
"...Yes, that's better..." the parasite ridden Rarity smiled to herself as the
madness set in. Furious green fire glowing in the night fixed its target on the
silver haired reaper as the albino wrenched the mangled forgery's katana from
beneath his twisted, coagulated remains. He, in turn, readied his weapon to
defend himself and his Lovely from the madwoman riddled with a parasitic
consciousness. "You look just like the motherfucker who had me play the whore-"
A soft, airy voice rang out loud over the maddening din swirling within the
unusually tall Rarity's subconscious. ~Emily, stop! Give it back! Don't touch
what's mine! You still house the Formless One, give it back!~
+Stella?+
The eliminated reaper's Death Scythe was pried from the parasitic woman's hands
by smaller more delicate hands than hers. ~Your loved ones have been avenged. I
need what's mine returned to me.~
+The madness it spoke of...take it back...now...while I still have some
clarity.+
The petite nodded, indicating that she understood the other's broken thoughts.
In the way of their people, the Prophet returned the borrowed consciousness to
the Conduit by way of a fiery kiss. Three eyes glowing beneath translucent lids
in increasing intensity as the albino and the petite slid slender fingers
through silky strands, seeking certain pressure points on their heads to begin
the ritual.
+One.+
=One.=
+We are not One.+
=We are not One.=
+I must return you to She, for She is You and You are She, Formless One. I am
grateful for your assistance in avenging my loves' unjust deaths. My vengeance
is complete, I can die with honor, and I am redeemed in the Eyes of my
Mistress. The Prophecy will be fulfilled, Her Holy Words carried out.+
=I thank you for having the wisdom for listening to She and remembering my
warning. She is me and I am She. We are One. Your work here is done.=
+I am pleased that we will now sever, Formless One.+
=As am I, Prophet. They await you in the Void.=
+I look forward to joining them soon.+
=One.=
~One.~
=We are One.=
~We are One.~
=~I am you. You are me. We will never sever.~=
Both women moaned lowly into the kiss as the pleasured pain of shared
consciousness came to a bittersweet end. Tears inadvertently rolled down the
lavender ice's face as the taller female ended the ritualistic kiss. "What's
wrong? Did you see him again?" she asked in an inaudible whisper.
"Yes, I just...The unfathomable sadness in his eyes makes me sad, too. If you,
or anyone for that matter, looked that way I'd be sad." The divine weapon
looked to her bewildered lover. "Especially if it was Adrian, I'd kill myself
if he looked that sad. It was as though he lost everything, but was waiting for
the day that vengeance would claim him so he could be happy again."
"Indeed, that it sad, Stella. I have one last thing I must tell you before I
go. Everything has been set in motion to expose he who has wronged you. Fulfill
the Prophecy, end this as the Goddess intends. The minutes are dwindling down.
You know what you must do, Stella. I am no longer needed in this world
anymore." The former eugenicist picked up the dead reaper's katana from where
it landed, just inches from the bewildered, yet still defensive silver reaper's
feet. "My apologies, Adrian Crevan, the Ikiryo is a parasite to a mind it's not
meant to be housed within. My attempted attack on you was unwarranted. You
know, Marcus told me so much about you. It's too bad that we couldn't meet
under happier circumstances."
"Why did he take your eye? I've been curious about that since you've mentioned
it." The mad reaper still did not lower his defenses despite the inquisitive
glint in his eyes.
"Because he knew," the tall female replied solemnly. "I needed to blend in.
Among my race, I am a myth to all but Rarities as they have not lost their
faith."
"So, you're the one she spoke of that was a demon's-"
"Demoness," the Prophet corrected. "I am. I suppose she told you only tall
women are Rarities, but she may have neglected to tell you that a tall albino
is the Prophet of her people. She may not have remembered. No matter, my task
is complete, my loved ones avenged according to the laws of my faith, and I
have finally met you, Legendary Death, the Created One, first in the Trinity of
Sadists. Don't look at me like a confused puppy. Rarities thrive on affection,
but we have our dark side just as you, as violent as you are, have your
affectionate side. Never have I seen anyone of any race so purely devoted to
anyone as you are to Stella. You know, Gaines wasn't wrong about the 'sick
shit' she's done under her own power. It's more sadistic than what you've seen
so far." The white haired woman took her place beside her Sister in the
Goddess. "Stella, my work here is complete. You know what you must do."
"Emily, I-"
The sudden metallic click of pruning shears swiftly extending through the air
cut the petite off along with the stray lavender braid identical to her
lover's. The owner of the precise Death Scythe was in full attack mode as he
came bearing down on his target with an uncharacteristic snarl on his face. The
mad legend knew he was coming for his precious treasure and he was all too
happy to dispatch the tyrannical manager in her defense.
*No one takes what's mine.*
"Blasphemy!" the Rarities shrieked in unison as the lavender haired woman
collapsed to the floor to avoid another oncoming attack from the fearsome, suit
clad reaper's strange weapon.
"The penalty is death for what you have done!" the tall Rarity shouted as the
man drew back his pruners.
The small female silently wept as she collected the special braid, no longer
caring if the hateful, revenge driven Dispatch manager killed her on the spot.
~As long as he doesn't kill my Adrian.~
She knew deep down in her soul that her Legendary Death would protect her at
any cost, even that of his own life. She flinched when the metallic clang of
two Death Scythes collided, signalling the start of a new round of fighting.
"You're always a woman to me...never an object..."
+Stella, it is time for me to make my egress.+
The petite looked up from her melancholy musings and faced her Sister, the
Prophet, with overflowing sadness in her eyes. Mismatched lights wavered,
hairless brows knitted together as she beheld her Sister in the Goddess poised
to fall upon a sword that spilled the blood of her loved ones and avenged their
deaths in the end of all things. "No, Emily, don't go. I'll be alone."
"No you won't, you'll always have Adrian," the taller woman replied. "Our race
is dead. Let the dead stay dead, but avenge them in the end of all things.
Follow Her path as I must. Treasure Death as he treasures you." The albino bent
down and kissed the petite's forehead. "You are truly the Conduit," she
whispered with a soft smile.
The sound of ripping fabric and muted splashes of blood falling on marble
floors alerted the wide eyed petite to the Prophet's great egress. "No, I won't
watch," she murmured as the impaled Prophet fell in a pool of crimson while X-
rated Cinematic Records flew out and were reabsorbed into the implement of her
destruction.
~The Prophet who played the whore is now redeemed in the Eyes of our Mistress.~
Fresh tears fell down like rain as she clutched the severed braid to her chest.
How she longed for her mortician lover to kiss her with that same tender
passion he did the night he gave her the braid she now clutched possessively in
her delicate hands. He always made her feel special and beautiful; like a
woman, never an object; always desired, wanted, and loved. She was special to
him as he was to her.
"Anything my Lovely needs, I will provide. Anything my Lovely wants, I will
give. Anything my Lovely wishes, I will do," the mortician whispered to the
sleeping winter storm. "I love you with all that I am and more."
~I will die for you, Adrian.~
*If for any reason you are taken from me, I will find you and get you back.*
~We will never sever, Adrian.~
Her small hand moved to the minimal folds of the cotton gown and produced the
hidden knife. Light glinted off the polished silver as she turned the blade
around in her hand, inspecting it for nothing in particular. Her kind always
had a way of knowing when it was their time to go as demonstrated by the
alignment of the hour on her divine tattoo. They had an innate ability to
predict their own end down to the millisecond, exemplified by her request to be
reaped by her legendary lover. Perhaps that's why Rarities didn't fear their
own mortality as evidenced by the Prophet's great egress. Other Empaths lacked
the sense of their own impending deaths, which is why the perverts begged for
their lives when winter came. A bead of blood appeared on the Rarity's
fingertip and trickled down in a fine, scarlet rivulet as she stared at it
through a veil of bitter sorrow. The fear of death was absent from her mind and
her heart, however, the fear of losing her silver love still lingered on. The
grinding screech of metallic objects colliding brought the Rarity out of her
depressive haze and back into the present.
~And then there were two.~
                                    xxxxxx
Pruning shears whizzed through the air and missed their intended target by a
wide margin. "Sir, I still have orders to detain you for execution," the
legend's former student insistently growled.
"Still as stiff as ever, Mr. Spears." The madman laughed as he took a
devastating swing at the younger reaper, missing him by a hairsbreadth. Death
Scythes collided again in a loud metallic, grating screech as the uptight,
raven haired reaper closed the business end of his pruning shears around the
legendary reaper's Death Scythe in a feeble attempt to wrench it from his
grasp. "Why, William, I had no idea you were this uninhibited. Hehehe!" The
mortician's signature grin oozed malice. "First, you take a few good pokes at
my Lovely with that ridiculous pole of yours. Hehehehehe!" His malicious grin
grew wider and his laughter darker at the irate reaper. "Hehehe. Now, you,
Chilly Willy, want to rub your puny pole all over my shaft. HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The
silver haired man roared in laughter at the uptight reaper's mortified reaction
to the innuendo laden accusations. Taking advantage of the younger reaper's
flustered state, the elder swung his scythe down with intent to kill, but the
younger jumped back at the last second, leaving behind a long gash splitting
skin and staining the torn fabric of his expensive business suit with his
sullied blood.
"I used to look up to you. I admired you, and in a way, I still do," the
injured manager panted. "I tried to persuade upper management not to execute
you. I told them you committed no crimes in the mortal realm. I did what I
could." Once again composed, he mentally prepared for another attack from his
former mentor.
"Shit!" The silver reaper clutched his sides as loud, insane, wild, cackling
laughter rumbled out of him. "You're a funny one, aren't you, Spears? Are you
hitting on me?" More cackling betraying the vengeful fury gleaming in the
madman's eyes followed the vicious taunt.
The short haired reaper only released an irritated growl in response as he
extended his pruners with deadly precision, just barely missing the legendary
object of his admiration. Death Scythes grated as they collided with each other
over and over again while former student and former teacher dodged and parried
each other for what seemed like an eternity. Blood was shed on both sides, more
from the bespectacled reaper than the other. Despite the slashes from his
former mentor's legendary scythe, the not so stoic reaper still had enough
stamina to continue fighting the silver haired legend, which was impressive in
itself. More loud cackling and metallic clangs reverberated throughout the
library as Death Scythes collided with brutal, bone crushing force. Both men
had their weapons at each other's throats, ready to dispatch the other on the
spot, however, there was a hint of hesitation in the younger reaper's eyes.
~Most likely at the thought of having Adrian executed.~
"If you're going to do it, do it, Spears," Silver Death taunted. "This is
getting boring."
"I only have orders to detain you...Sir," the other reaper replied icily. Out
of the corner of his glaring green and gold eye, he spotted the weaponized
winter alone and vulnerable. "But I no longer have a reason to keep that
alive." Repulsion flashed in his eyes as he glanced at the petite, however, he
did not remove his Death Scythe from the legend's throat. First order of
business: survival.
The Conduit bit back unnecessary tears as she cautiously approached the warring
reapers, mindful of the evil efficiency of the Dispatch manager's weapon. His
cold glare followed her until she finally reached her destination beside her
mate. "No more fighting, please. Don't hurt Adrian." She made her soft demand
with a certain hypnotic innocence in her emerald and sapphire eyes that even
the enraged manager couldn't resist. She wrapped her arms around the
mortician's waist and looked up at him with pleading lights glowing in her
large, lupine eyes. The same glow that always captivated him every time they
made love.
*That's what's different about her eyes now! It's the same parallel she made
regarding mine compared to other reapers: the same but different. Just what in
the ten circles of Hell went on with her and that woman in the catacombs
earlier?*
The legend's corrosive glare softened and a hint of a smile played at his lips.
"Anything for my Lovely," he replied in a soft whisper. He returned his
attention to his opponent with calculated anger. "What say you, Willy? Neither
of us are going to back down, and frankly standing around with your pole
tickling my neck is boring. I prefer my Lovely's delightfully sweet, biting
kisses instead. Hehehe." The legend's lover blushed in spite of her emotional
turmoil.
"Agreed." Pruning shears cautiously went back to their respective designated
area as did the wicked Death Scythe of a madman. "Why?" the disgusted manager
spat as he observed the man he once idolized tightly embrace the Rarity. "Why
that, Crevan? What did it do to you?"
"She did not manipulate me, if that's what you mean, boy," the mortician
harshly replied. "Why, you ask? Because we share a deep, inexplicable
understanding of each other on an unspoken level. It's something a stiff like
you couldn't begin to understand. I'd be willing to bet that the first recycled
suicide-the second legend among us-would have a better grip on feeling anything
than you, and we all know that he intentionally chooses not to feel. Ironic,
given that he's such a passionate man. Oh, but I digress, Mr. Spears. I told
you before I 'retired' not be so goddamn stiff all the time and you'd go on to
do great things. That didn't necessarily entail promotions. Sure, I was
managerial class, but could you picture me being bound to a desk all day in
meetings, bogged down by paperwork? That's not what I meant at all by what I
said." The silver reaper shook his head sadly at his former student as he fed
the petite's obsession with soothing strokes through pastel tresses.
"What did you mean?" the beaten, bloodied manager growled between grit teeth,
struggling to rein in his urge to kill the lavender haired woman affectionately
nuzzling the legendary reaper.
"Open your mind, Spears, be more perceptive. That young kid, Ronald Knox, is
more perceptive than you have ever been. You may have the upper hand in combat
for now, but with my dear, red reaper as his teacher, I'm sure he'll surpass
you. How sad it is that I have failed with you, but we're getting off topic,
are we not?" The silver haired man grinned at the younger reaper. "I also
suggest that you stop referring to Stella as though she were an object, Spears.
My Lovely is a woman. You above all should know that. After all, it was you who
marred her lovely legs with violence among other things. Whatever your
intention was at the time has no effect on me, she is still my Perfect Beauty."
The irate manager's eyebrow twitched with barely contained rage as the legend
he admired droned on about the Rarity still nuzzling into his chest. "It isn't
a problem with Rarities you have, is it, Mr. Spears? You have a problem with my
Rarity in particular, don't you? I wonder what it could be? Let's see, you
killed Marcus, you oversaw much the eugenics program and her collections most
of the time according to what she remembers, and she's the only one you refer
to in objectifying terms. Even Gaines had the courtesy to humanize her a couple
of times when he was busy calling her a whore. So, what is it you aren't
telling me?"
The irritated reaper avoided the question altogether by falling back on
protocol and repeating the orders to detain his elder, but with aggressive
action this time around. Before the fight escalated, the weapon threw the
chronically irritated man across the room with a single thought.
"Don't kill him!" the lavender haired petite cried out. "He's mine, William T.
Spears! You can't have him, he doesn't want to go with you."
A glint of silver within the severed lavender braid caught the mortician's eye.
*What are you doing?*
~What I must. My time is now. Do not let your heart cloud your judgement.~
"My life for his, as She intends," the female stated in a low, grave voice.
"I still have my orders," the immobilized reaper coldly insisted.
"From a corpse?" the woman scoffed. "My life for his. Adrian's punishment is
unwarranted. You, yourself said he didn't deserve death. Here is your chance to
do right by him at least once in your miserable fucking life. Let him go. I'm
useless to you, I always have been. Now that Gaines and the others are dead and
the clones are destroyed, I have no purpose for your realm. Adrian, on the
other hand, is of more value to your people by his existence alone. Who was it
that ordered his execution, anyway, Spears? If you lie, I'll crush your bones
one at a time."
"You know very well who ordered his execution!" the manager snapped. "Your
'Sister' or whatever she is killed him. It looks like she abandoned you, too."
"No, Spears, her task was finished, vengeance carried out, and penance served.
She didn't abandon me, she took her life in the way of our people when duty
bound," the Conduit replied darkly. "You have your duties, she had hers, and I,
as the Conduit, have mine." Mismatched Aurora Borealis eyes blazed at the
unmoving reaper as she held the polished silver knife blade to her throat,
pressing hard enough to draw a sliver of blood. "And my duty is to fulfill the
Prophecy, which includes preserving the life of my mate." The female closed her
eyes and in the language of her people recited, "I am the Flameless Fire that
can never be extinguished. I am She who was born to die and live again for all
Time. I am the Conduit. Vengeance is Mine!" At the final word, and at the exact
predicted time as the Goddess intended, the lavender winter came to a cleanly
sliced end, from jugular to carotid, taking care to avoid her lover's mark.
~Adrian.~
*I know, Stella.*
~Will it feel as delightfully painful as I imagined? Make it memorable for me
in case I forget.~
*You won't forget, I promise.*
The Rarity beckoned her silver love to come closer and hear her last words
before her lights turned gray. "We...will...never...sever...
I...love...you...Adrian..." she rasped with a smile on her face.
"Still...gonna...get...you...back...for...that...time...you...stuffed...me
in...the...coffin... Beautiful...eyes...that...never...lie..."
The mortician cracked a grin at the petite swearing to get her revenge on him
for the long ago coffin fiasco. "I'll be looking forward to it, my love. You
have the most beautiful, enchanting innocence in your strange eyes. They are
the eyes of an exotic, rare predator; vicious, wild, and free, just like you. I
love you, I always have, and I always will." He closed his eyes and a rogue
tear slipped down his cheek as delicate fingers knotted through the mass of
silver he calls hair, pulling him in for a final passionate kiss.
*If for any reason you are taken from me, I will find you and get you back.*
~We will never sever.~
Delicate fingers slid out of silver silk leaving bloody streaks in their wake
as two divine lovers broke their kiss. Legendary Death watched a gray fog roll
in over the once beautiful brilliance of emerald and sapphire gems housed in
obsidian signalling the moment of death. Unfathomable, longing sadness merged
with the fury in his eyes as the man of unnecessary shadows plunged the massive
blade of his Death Scythe into his lover's chest, brutally granting her the
pleasure of release.
*You are mine. NOTHING takes what's mine.*
***** Silver *****
Chapter Notes
     January/Stella's innermost thoughts ~
     Undertaker's innermost thoughts *
     So, this is the end of part 1. Thank you for reading and for kudos. I
     very much appreciate it.
     I'm ending this twisted tale with the gift of sexy time.
     Enjoy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
~As the gently curved crescent blade of the Death Scythe pierces my flesh, I
regard the silver haired reaper wielding it one last time before my vision is
completely obscured by a dense gray fog. Even in deep, longing, profound
sadness, his eyes are beautiful, and I find myself in a subconscious euphoria
of silver as long as I can still look into those alluring green eyes that never
lie. They are the same stunning eyes that held an enigmatic combination of
emotions the first time I looked into them the day I woke up from the freak
accident in his shop. The very same legendary hunter's eyes that held me in
place like a stalking predator seeking out its prey in the dead of night. The
same eyes full of phosphorescent warmth,compassion, and devotion reserved only
for me as he pulled me back to him from between realities. The same acidic eyes
burning with madness and righteous fury the day I was stolen from him. My
silver love is my cult, and I am his goddess.
                                    xxxxxx
I, too, am a predator, and my silver haired lover is more than worthy of my
palate as his eyes share the same unsated hunger as mine. He'd kiss me and my
emerald and sapphire eyes would light up the night like an Aurora Borealis. My
silver love always had a way of making my eyes glow brighter and brighter until
I was convinced they would go the way of a dying sun. He'd make my burning
flesh crawl beneath my divinely bestowed tattoo as he ran his nails down my
back while I rode him like a rare exotic animal; vicious, wild, free, and at my
mercy. My eyes glowed brighter still, as I whipped lavender locks back in a
dangerous arc during the increasing tempo of our deadly lover's dance. The tiny
whimper signalling that he was close always made me give in to his demand to be
closer to me. The irony of such a pleading noise sounding from a dominant,
sadistic, powerful god brightened my eyes even more as I wrapped my legs around
his waist with my body pressed against his, fingers knotting into long tendrils
of silver while I slowed the tempo of our dance to a more sensual, teasing
pace. My beautiful madman's wonderful nails would sneak into my lavender
tresses and upon finding an ideal place, allow the hand they called home to
burrow into that place and pull down hard, feeding my obsession and sating my
secret hunger as the vertebrae in my neck popped one after another in rapid
succession, eliciting a cry of his name from my lips. Soft kisses intermingled
with nibbles and then the sharp pain in my neck unlocked my secret places as
his sharp teeth tore open the flesh of his favorite spot on my neck. With a
feral demand for more, I knew he knew that he unlocked my secret places, and
thus, the tempo of our lover's dance sped up once more. With one arm wrapped
tightly around my waist and the other trailing wonderful nails up my back and
nestling them into my hair, Legendary Death captured my lips in an explosive
kiss tasting of blood and wormwood. His wonderful nails dug deep into my skin
as he lost himself in my name while at the same time being the key unlocking
the secrets to my secret places. As always, he reminded me that my eyes were
glowing, and even he could see my Perfect Beauty in the pitch darkness of the
room.
My silver haired lover always made me feel so beautiful and wanted, especially
when he arranged my hair into beautiful works of art. It always amazed me how
skilled he was at doing so considering his bad eyesight. He is the only male,
excluding Marcus, that I can remember ever loving me as I am and the only male
I can remember never objectifying me. I was a treasure to my silver reaper,
body and soul, even when he fed my secret hunger for pain wrapped in pleasure.
He's the only man that's ever been purely devoted to me without a hint of
betrayal lurking behind his beautiful eyes. He is mine and I am his. We are
One. He is as devoted to me as I am to him, and our eyes don't lie when we gaze
into the other's and exchange that very sentiment.
I don't want this split second, silver euphoria to end, but unfortunately, it
must. At least I could manage to remember the passionate dawn of my fifty-sixth
year before the gray fog rolls in. As sparkling silver dulls to gray, so do the
stunning eyes of the legendary reaper standing above me. A few stray tears fall
from his eyes and hit my skin like boiling water. Oh Goddess! I will truly miss
being wrapped in the arms of Legendary Death!~
*You are mine. NOTHING takes what's mine.*
~If only he knew. If only he could fully understand. I am as the Goddess
determines me to be.~
Chapter End Notes
     I'll be taking a month off between now and uploading the follow up
     multi chap. I may throw in a one shot or two should inspiration
     strike, after all, sleep and I are strangers. I seriously need to get
     more work done on it before I start uploading it. I'm old school. I
     do first drafts before uploads.
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