TheLoneRook
Death's Secretary
The following are three “messages” your character would have received in the year 2010, shortly after the first distribution of Warbrands. A voice in their head, a transmission on FM radio, and a letter, sealed in white wax, in that order.
You survived. That is good.
Something within you is holding you together. You should cling to that, it will help you in your coming…journey.
I am War.
You may recognize me by other names. I have been a part of your world since its inception, but I am not here to relive the past. Today is about you, and your future.
I come here to offer you a gift. It is already in your hands
If you deny this gift, you will die. If you accept it, you may live. You could live to hold power, to reign above those around you. You could achieve all that you wish. That is of course, as long as you take this gift, and do as I ask.
This task is a simple one. Fight. I care not for the cause you choose, or what aims you hold, so long as this battle wages on. That is all I ask of you. That is all I will ever ask of you. Your opponents may be arranged, you may find yourself in a fight among those you once knew. These are simply matters of coincidence and poor arrangements, they hold no weight to me. So go now, I won’t bother you any longer. When the time comes, you will be made aware.
Show me what you’ve got.
"Yes, hello? Can you hear me? Good. I’m glad you got this message, because it’s the only one I’ll be able to send for quite some time. Listen well.
As I record this, it is currently October 31st, 2010. If you’ve found this message, then you’re probably somewhere in Samael. I don’t know what all might change after this, but chances are it’s still happening.
It doesn’t look like it, but you’re in a warzone. There are people hidden in plain sight who may try to hurt you, they are incredibly dangerous. They are difficult to spot at first glance, but they all carry the same silver sword. If you spot someone near or in possession of one of these swords, run, and contact local authorities.
There is someone pulling the strings here. They all claim to be acting under someone’s control, everyone’s saying “War is forcing me I don’t have a choice” as if War is somehow a person. I won’t act like I understand it now, I only hope that you understand it more than I do. What matters is the safety of the city. For whatever reason, local officials refuse to evacuate. The incidents are too inconsistent for them to think anything of it. They think of these people as criminals, but they’re much more than that. There’s something going on here, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.
My name is Herald Godrick, and if you find this message, get the hell out of this city, for your own good.”
Hello. If you’ve found this letter, then I am happy to inform you you have somewhere to sleep tonight. Head to 1404 Belvedere Avenue, you will find our humble hotel. A room will be waiting for you, it isn’t much but it is the least we can do given your newfound circumstances. If you can, try to wait til nightfall to head towards us. Avoid police, avoid your family and friends. Ultimately, your proximity to them will be a threat to the both of you. If you find or are given a red card, do not open it. Bring it to us, and we will help you. You must be careful, but you also must try to hurry. I can only guarantee your safety within the grounds of our establishment.
I know you must be frightened. You must have so many questions. For now, do what you can to get to us. Keep your blade hidden as best you can, stay away from people if you can avoid it, and do your best to stay calm. We will be waiting for you.
-D~
Samael was never quite sure of when autumn stopped and winter started, it ebbed and flowed from wicked cold nights of biting winds to calm and sunny afternoons. On the 16th of October, 2014, the morning was surprisingly warm. Unnaturally warm, weatherman and conspirators alike would suggest. There was nothing particular that caused the warmth, but in times like these the citizens of Samael would consider any anomaly worth pointing at.
Tony Marcello awoke to the sounds of FM radio blathering on about the “unnatural heat” as his window wafted in a surprisingly hot air from outside. He opened his eyes to see a clocked 23 degrees Celsius at the stroke of 8am. He conceded briefly, that the weatherman may have a point this time.
Practically flinging himself to his feet, Tony was dressed and presentable in a gray button-down and black slacks in what seemed like a matter of seconds. He wondered briefly if his wardrobe was always this dull or if it was just a new effect of his strange circumstance. He didn’t ponder on it long, it wouldn’t do him any good to contemplate something he’d get no answers to. Especially considering his employer would probably just offer him a hot pink suit next time he arrived at the hotel should he ever raise the question. He looked out the window to see the beginning of a beautiful sunny day. Of course, he thought. You always liked to walk around in summer heat with five coats on.
He stepped over to the wall his headboard rested against and gave it a couple solid taps.
“Rise and shine, Sniffles. If Bel tells me you slept in ‘til noon again I’m eating your dessert before you get to it.” he called, heading for the door. He thought he was forgetting something, but the jet-black sword was already poised at his hip, as if it had never left and he hadn’t set it to the side of his bed the night before. He sighed. At least it was consistent. As he stepped out of the threshold, the spiraling white eye on the side of the sheath spun open, and for a moment Tony’s world collapsed and reformed as his perspective extended to the entire cityscape. It was a sensation he’d gotten used to from a surprise standpoint, but it always managed to give him a brief bout of dizziness. He pressed on, today was more than likely going to be a busy one.
The walk down the hotel stairwell would probably be considered unsettling by most people’s standards. The 9th floor down through the 7th was eerily silent, followed by the muffled sounds of crying, screaming, yelling and cursing, and general unrest that came from the 6th floor down to the 2nd. For the moment at least no one was actually fighting. He did notice a boy with a knife for a warbrand who looked deep in thought. He only hoped the boy wasn’t planning on trying to end himself. Everyone tried, and everyone was equally upset with the results.
By the time he reached the lobby, the wailing of the fledgling floors was overshadowed by a resounding sonata being struck into the keys of the grand piano in the ballroom. When his foot hit the foyer floor the song immediately ceased and he heard the hurried sound of tiny footsteps racing from the ballroom through the foyer straight into the lobby. Tony followed the footsteps into the lobby to find a pair of seemless white gloves adjusting themselves, floating from behind the lobby counter.
“Mr. Fel.”
“Hi Tony, Tony hi!” A raspy, high pitched voice echoed from the locale of the gloves.
“Was that you playing in the ballroom?” Tony posed, well aware of the answer.
“Noooo Tony, Tony nooo. Over here, arranging keys. Arranging keys over here.” The voice shot back instantly, his most common excuse. Mr. Fel never got in trouble for playing the piano, and since there weren’t any fledglings walking through the door he had no need to stay at the counter. He just assumed he was always in hot water. The boss said it had something to do with a small issue with how he imagined his personality when he was first created. Too much caution, not enough common sense. Admittedly, Mr. Fel was his first creation, and something of a prototype.
“Go finish your song, then you can come back.”
“Ohhhh thank you Tony! Tony thank you!” The gloves flew past Tony and within seconds the sonata returned at the exact note it had stopped at earlier, as if the track was taken off pause.
Tony walked his way over to the kitchen to find Bel finalizing an ensemble of omelettes, burritos, and a pile of bacon most would consider a declaration of war against the vegan community. With her hair tied back she looked a bit more motherly than her usual “I’ll kill you for sneezing” vibe, and she bit at her tongue with the edge of her slightly enlarged canine while she worked. She didn’t directly acknowledge Tony walking in but she did fling a burrito straight at his face. He caught it, knowing full well her goal was still to smack him in the head if she could get away with it.
“Anything from the mailman today?” she asked, pulling out a giant bottle of hot sauce and checking a list of guests who’d said anything other than “no” to the question “Can you handle spicy food?” on the survey fledglings filled out at check in.
“Too early, he’ll wait til the city wakes up. I think he gave up on trying to have people wake up to them. It’s not as satisfying if they read it groggy.” he mused, tearing off half the burrito in a single bite. Bel sighed, slathering hot sauce on select plates like she was dolling out her own punishment.
“You wake up Terry?”
“I think so. She’s moving a little.” Tony replied, bringing his eyes over to Terry’s room. He looked only for a split second. He always felt like she knew when he was watching, and he wasn’t the type to pry on her.
“How are you feeling?” Bel shifted, finalizing her sauce masterpiece.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. We haven’t really talked about it since it happened. Are you doing okay? How are your eyes?”
Tony looked at the palms of his hands, flexed a little, rolled his neck. “It’s not any different than before, really, apart from, yknow, the whole “not technically alive thing”. He bothered to put his hand over his heart. It was dead quiet for a moment, then picked up a beat. An attempt at recreating the sensation. It was close, but he still knew it wasn’t real. A nice enough gesture at least. Bel finally looked at him, and it was clear under the red of her eyes she wanted to really sit him down and put him under the microscrope to make sure he was okay, but she refrained.
“That package you ordered came in. Azel has it out back.”
“Why does Azel have it?”
“He said you weren’t going to bother to wrap it properly so he decided to do it himself.” Tony paused as he started to make his way towards the garden at the rear of the hotel.
“I-I would’ve wrapped it!” He tried to defend his honor.
“Sure, hun.” Bel muttered, returning to her preparations.
Tony made his way through the kitchen to the garden, finishing off his burrito. He brushed open the back door to find a sleek grey shirtless demon fiddling with petunias, a brand new coffee maker sat on a workbench near the shed. “I thought you were going to wrap it?” Tony collected the machine, inspecting it for blemishes and imperfections, not that it mattered.
The demon stood from his work and tossed his spade to the ground. “I was, but I remembered he never actually like the ones that were packaged. He just grabbed them straight off the display shelves. He didn’t bother with wrappings then, figured he wouldn’t now.” Azel’s voice was less shielded than Bel’s, his words still hung with sorrow everyone else pretended they didn’t have. Tony wasn’t quite sure what to say to him. Normally he was good at consoling people, but he worried trying to now would just leave them both in tatters.
“Right then, I’m off.”
The walk up was nice enough. CWI was changing shift from overnights to mornings, giving him a calm window to walk through the city without as much issue. His sword no longer set off their sensors, but his avoidance of them was a habit he was comfortable keeping. By the time he made it to the woods the heat was already becoming a bit miserable, but he trudged on. He walked the entire path of the Pit, breezing right past two fledglings trying to settle a personal squabble with brands they didn’t know how to use. He arrived just shy of noon, a secluded grove with a little creek running past it. A boulder sliced in two, one half tossed aside, a name carved gently into the sheer face of the resting half.
Len Yafuk - A good soul
Tony set the coffee maker at the foot of the rock, trying to collect himself as he did. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, if he should say anything at all. He knew this was ceremonial, he knew Death had taken him wherever it is he takes people. Even still, he had to cling to this, to something that tethered him here. He fumbled over his words.
“E-everyone is okay. Bel is good, Azel’s struggling but he’s okay too. Terry misses you a lot, Nines does too he’d just never admit it out loud. Everyone misses you...I miss you.” His body shook for a moment but he found just a few seconds more of composure.
“I feel like I don’t deserve the deal I got in all of this, but you told me to take it so I did. No going back now. We’re both stuck where we are. We just have to make the most of it.” he shivered out.
“I’ll stop blabbering. You’d already be on your way to lunch by now.” Tony turned away from the stone.
“We’re gonna do it, Len. We’re going to stop all of this. For your sake.”
The midday sun felt more like July and less like October, but Nines knew nothing about weather, and made it a point not to spend any time thinking about the why or how of it. He wore a simple blend of peach and light reds with his shorts and coat, opting for a bike helmet over his usual hat and hood to give him something to the effect of sunglasses. Combat boots for the commute, a bandana around his neck for a splash of orange, the favorite color he’d never admit to having.
He perched off the top of the Morgenfellow tower on the upper west side. A concrete rooftop wasn’t considered by most to be a relaxing spot, but Nines had long since made peace with the discomfort of heat, considering his normal choice in clothing. He sat in the center of the roof, trying his hand at meditating.
He sucked at meditating.
He abandoned his efforts after a few minutes of racing thoughts and decisions to be made and produced his bow, drawing it back low, aimed skyward. He loosed the arrow and dropped the bow, waiting. The arrow flew up until it was little more than a black speck to his eyes and eventually he saw the speck extend as it turned and started to head down. This was the closest he could ever get to meditation, watching the arrow descend, its tip poised straight at the center of his chest. He thought about what it might be like, if it struck true. If it followed its rule. Would he find peace? Would all the chaos wind down into a quiet rhythm? Would the castle of order he’d built from nothing stand as a ruin? As a monument to his new life, to his freedom? Would Death finally share his secrets and show him what’s on the other side? The arrow’s head glistened in the sunlight as it finished its approach. Nines pivoted, tossing out his hand as he snatched the haft from the air and spun with its momentum, coming to rest near the edge of the roof as 6 locked down.
The sounds of gentle clapping broke the silence and Nines looked up to find a being that always knew how to make an entrance. Dressed in a slim black suit with a burgundy tie, hosting a sleek black cane with no curve at the handle over his shoulder. His face was covered with the skull of a ram this afternoon, a tattered cowl resting quietly atop its horns. He had less of a face and more of a visage, a strong jawline and chin with no mouth, only the warbling light of what looked like one to match the calm and quiet voice that rose from it.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get my sister’s attention.” said Death, setting his cane gently into the concrete. Nines knew saying nothing would probably be a poor choice, though Death’s presence always made him feel like silence was the best option.
“Do you think she’d notice?”
“Life? No, she doesn’t concern herself much with her finished products. She’s a forward thinker, always moving on to the next task. Her work doesn’t really allow her to review past projects like mine does. Which is probably a good thing, thinking on it now, I don’t know that I’d want her to spread her attention span any more than it already is.” Death reflected, stepping out to catch a view of the city.
“Are you here on business?” Nines asked. A question that hung heavy like a wrecking ball. No matter how it moved, if it struck something nearby it meant damage was guaranteed. Death sighed, or made a noise that sounded something like sighing. He regularly tried to mimic the mannerisms of the living, though he was almost always just shy of the mark.
“I’m afraid so.”
Nines felt the wrecking ball collide with Samael’s entire skyline. Death was overly polite, always making light of the situation to keep pleasantries intact and fears from brewing. The normal response was “something small came up, nothing to worry about”, or “just a personal matter, I’ll be gone by breakfast”. Now he spoke of his own fear. What on earth could Death fear? He felt a thin hand press into his shoulder.
“Things are changing, Nine. The lull we’ve seen in the past months wasn’t War growing complacent. He’s been experimenting. I worry that soon enough we’ll start to see the fruits of his labor.” Death stepped to the ledge of the tower and pointed his cane to the south of the city, as if trying to pin the exact location of something he knew was nearby.
“All these years you and the others have spent surviving this will quickly become your greatest tool.” Death’s body language was somehow still stoic, despite the gravity of his words. He tossed his cane to the air, allowing it to plummet to the ground.
“I hope to have more information for you all tonight. For now, see to your card. This one just might be worth your time.” With that, Death vanished as Nines blinked, leaving him to sit on a small mountain of new questions.
You survived. That is good.
Something within you is holding you together. You should cling to that, it will help you in your coming…journey.
I am War.
You may recognize me by other names. I have been a part of your world since its inception, but I am not here to relive the past. Today is about you, and your future.
I come here to offer you a gift. It is already in your hands
If you deny this gift, you will die. If you accept it, you may live. You could live to hold power, to reign above those around you. You could achieve all that you wish. That is of course, as long as you take this gift, and do as I ask.
This task is a simple one. Fight. I care not for the cause you choose, or what aims you hold, so long as this battle wages on. That is all I ask of you. That is all I will ever ask of you. Your opponents may be arranged, you may find yourself in a fight among those you once knew. These are simply matters of coincidence and poor arrangements, they hold no weight to me. So go now, I won’t bother you any longer. When the time comes, you will be made aware.
Show me what you’ve got.
~~~
"Yes, hello? Can you hear me? Good. I’m glad you got this message, because it’s the only one I’ll be able to send for quite some time. Listen well.
As I record this, it is currently October 31st, 2010. If you’ve found this message, then you’re probably somewhere in Samael. I don’t know what all might change after this, but chances are it’s still happening.
It doesn’t look like it, but you’re in a warzone. There are people hidden in plain sight who may try to hurt you, they are incredibly dangerous. They are difficult to spot at first glance, but they all carry the same silver sword. If you spot someone near or in possession of one of these swords, run, and contact local authorities.
There is someone pulling the strings here. They all claim to be acting under someone’s control, everyone’s saying “War is forcing me I don’t have a choice” as if War is somehow a person. I won’t act like I understand it now, I only hope that you understand it more than I do. What matters is the safety of the city. For whatever reason, local officials refuse to evacuate. The incidents are too inconsistent for them to think anything of it. They think of these people as criminals, but they’re much more than that. There’s something going on here, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.
My name is Herald Godrick, and if you find this message, get the hell out of this city, for your own good.”
~~~
Hello. If you’ve found this letter, then I am happy to inform you you have somewhere to sleep tonight. Head to 1404 Belvedere Avenue, you will find our humble hotel. A room will be waiting for you, it isn’t much but it is the least we can do given your newfound circumstances. If you can, try to wait til nightfall to head towards us. Avoid police, avoid your family and friends. Ultimately, your proximity to them will be a threat to the both of you. If you find or are given a red card, do not open it. Bring it to us, and we will help you. You must be careful, but you also must try to hurry. I can only guarantee your safety within the grounds of our establishment.
I know you must be frightened. You must have so many questions. For now, do what you can to get to us. Keep your blade hidden as best you can, stay away from people if you can avoid it, and do your best to stay calm. We will be waiting for you.
-D~
~4 years later~
Samael was never quite sure of when autumn stopped and winter started, it ebbed and flowed from wicked cold nights of biting winds to calm and sunny afternoons. On the 16th of October, 2014, the morning was surprisingly warm. Unnaturally warm, weatherman and conspirators alike would suggest. There was nothing particular that caused the warmth, but in times like these the citizens of Samael would consider any anomaly worth pointing at.
Tony Marcello awoke to the sounds of FM radio blathering on about the “unnatural heat” as his window wafted in a surprisingly hot air from outside. He opened his eyes to see a clocked 23 degrees Celsius at the stroke of 8am. He conceded briefly, that the weatherman may have a point this time.
Practically flinging himself to his feet, Tony was dressed and presentable in a gray button-down and black slacks in what seemed like a matter of seconds. He wondered briefly if his wardrobe was always this dull or if it was just a new effect of his strange circumstance. He didn’t ponder on it long, it wouldn’t do him any good to contemplate something he’d get no answers to. Especially considering his employer would probably just offer him a hot pink suit next time he arrived at the hotel should he ever raise the question. He looked out the window to see the beginning of a beautiful sunny day. Of course, he thought. You always liked to walk around in summer heat with five coats on.
He stepped over to the wall his headboard rested against and gave it a couple solid taps.
“Rise and shine, Sniffles. If Bel tells me you slept in ‘til noon again I’m eating your dessert before you get to it.” he called, heading for the door. He thought he was forgetting something, but the jet-black sword was already poised at his hip, as if it had never left and he hadn’t set it to the side of his bed the night before. He sighed. At least it was consistent. As he stepped out of the threshold, the spiraling white eye on the side of the sheath spun open, and for a moment Tony’s world collapsed and reformed as his perspective extended to the entire cityscape. It was a sensation he’d gotten used to from a surprise standpoint, but it always managed to give him a brief bout of dizziness. He pressed on, today was more than likely going to be a busy one.
The walk down the hotel stairwell would probably be considered unsettling by most people’s standards. The 9th floor down through the 7th was eerily silent, followed by the muffled sounds of crying, screaming, yelling and cursing, and general unrest that came from the 6th floor down to the 2nd. For the moment at least no one was actually fighting. He did notice a boy with a knife for a warbrand who looked deep in thought. He only hoped the boy wasn’t planning on trying to end himself. Everyone tried, and everyone was equally upset with the results.
By the time he reached the lobby, the wailing of the fledgling floors was overshadowed by a resounding sonata being struck into the keys of the grand piano in the ballroom. When his foot hit the foyer floor the song immediately ceased and he heard the hurried sound of tiny footsteps racing from the ballroom through the foyer straight into the lobby. Tony followed the footsteps into the lobby to find a pair of seemless white gloves adjusting themselves, floating from behind the lobby counter.
“Mr. Fel.”
“Hi Tony, Tony hi!” A raspy, high pitched voice echoed from the locale of the gloves.
“Was that you playing in the ballroom?” Tony posed, well aware of the answer.
“Noooo Tony, Tony nooo. Over here, arranging keys. Arranging keys over here.” The voice shot back instantly, his most common excuse. Mr. Fel never got in trouble for playing the piano, and since there weren’t any fledglings walking through the door he had no need to stay at the counter. He just assumed he was always in hot water. The boss said it had something to do with a small issue with how he imagined his personality when he was first created. Too much caution, not enough common sense. Admittedly, Mr. Fel was his first creation, and something of a prototype.
“Go finish your song, then you can come back.”
“Ohhhh thank you Tony! Tony thank you!” The gloves flew past Tony and within seconds the sonata returned at the exact note it had stopped at earlier, as if the track was taken off pause.
Tony walked his way over to the kitchen to find Bel finalizing an ensemble of omelettes, burritos, and a pile of bacon most would consider a declaration of war against the vegan community. With her hair tied back she looked a bit more motherly than her usual “I’ll kill you for sneezing” vibe, and she bit at her tongue with the edge of her slightly enlarged canine while she worked. She didn’t directly acknowledge Tony walking in but she did fling a burrito straight at his face. He caught it, knowing full well her goal was still to smack him in the head if she could get away with it.
“Anything from the mailman today?” she asked, pulling out a giant bottle of hot sauce and checking a list of guests who’d said anything other than “no” to the question “Can you handle spicy food?” on the survey fledglings filled out at check in.
“Too early, he’ll wait til the city wakes up. I think he gave up on trying to have people wake up to them. It’s not as satisfying if they read it groggy.” he mused, tearing off half the burrito in a single bite. Bel sighed, slathering hot sauce on select plates like she was dolling out her own punishment.
“You wake up Terry?”
“I think so. She’s moving a little.” Tony replied, bringing his eyes over to Terry’s room. He looked only for a split second. He always felt like she knew when he was watching, and he wasn’t the type to pry on her.
“How are you feeling?” Bel shifted, finalizing her sauce masterpiece.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. We haven’t really talked about it since it happened. Are you doing okay? How are your eyes?”
Tony looked at the palms of his hands, flexed a little, rolled his neck. “It’s not any different than before, really, apart from, yknow, the whole “not technically alive thing”. He bothered to put his hand over his heart. It was dead quiet for a moment, then picked up a beat. An attempt at recreating the sensation. It was close, but he still knew it wasn’t real. A nice enough gesture at least. Bel finally looked at him, and it was clear under the red of her eyes she wanted to really sit him down and put him under the microscrope to make sure he was okay, but she refrained.
“That package you ordered came in. Azel has it out back.”
“Why does Azel have it?”
“He said you weren’t going to bother to wrap it properly so he decided to do it himself.” Tony paused as he started to make his way towards the garden at the rear of the hotel.
“I-I would’ve wrapped it!” He tried to defend his honor.
“Sure, hun.” Bel muttered, returning to her preparations.
Tony made his way through the kitchen to the garden, finishing off his burrito. He brushed open the back door to find a sleek grey shirtless demon fiddling with petunias, a brand new coffee maker sat on a workbench near the shed. “I thought you were going to wrap it?” Tony collected the machine, inspecting it for blemishes and imperfections, not that it mattered.
The demon stood from his work and tossed his spade to the ground. “I was, but I remembered he never actually like the ones that were packaged. He just grabbed them straight off the display shelves. He didn’t bother with wrappings then, figured he wouldn’t now.” Azel’s voice was less shielded than Bel’s, his words still hung with sorrow everyone else pretended they didn’t have. Tony wasn’t quite sure what to say to him. Normally he was good at consoling people, but he worried trying to now would just leave them both in tatters.
“Right then, I’m off.”
The walk up was nice enough. CWI was changing shift from overnights to mornings, giving him a calm window to walk through the city without as much issue. His sword no longer set off their sensors, but his avoidance of them was a habit he was comfortable keeping. By the time he made it to the woods the heat was already becoming a bit miserable, but he trudged on. He walked the entire path of the Pit, breezing right past two fledglings trying to settle a personal squabble with brands they didn’t know how to use. He arrived just shy of noon, a secluded grove with a little creek running past it. A boulder sliced in two, one half tossed aside, a name carved gently into the sheer face of the resting half.
Len Yafuk - A good soul
Tony set the coffee maker at the foot of the rock, trying to collect himself as he did. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, if he should say anything at all. He knew this was ceremonial, he knew Death had taken him wherever it is he takes people. Even still, he had to cling to this, to something that tethered him here. He fumbled over his words.
“E-everyone is okay. Bel is good, Azel’s struggling but he’s okay too. Terry misses you a lot, Nines does too he’d just never admit it out loud. Everyone misses you...I miss you.” His body shook for a moment but he found just a few seconds more of composure.
“I feel like I don’t deserve the deal I got in all of this, but you told me to take it so I did. No going back now. We’re both stuck where we are. We just have to make the most of it.” he shivered out.
“I’ll stop blabbering. You’d already be on your way to lunch by now.” Tony turned away from the stone.
“We’re gonna do it, Len. We’re going to stop all of this. For your sake.”
~~~
The midday sun felt more like July and less like October, but Nines knew nothing about weather, and made it a point not to spend any time thinking about the why or how of it. He wore a simple blend of peach and light reds with his shorts and coat, opting for a bike helmet over his usual hat and hood to give him something to the effect of sunglasses. Combat boots for the commute, a bandana around his neck for a splash of orange, the favorite color he’d never admit to having.
He perched off the top of the Morgenfellow tower on the upper west side. A concrete rooftop wasn’t considered by most to be a relaxing spot, but Nines had long since made peace with the discomfort of heat, considering his normal choice in clothing. He sat in the center of the roof, trying his hand at meditating.
He sucked at meditating.
He abandoned his efforts after a few minutes of racing thoughts and decisions to be made and produced his bow, drawing it back low, aimed skyward. He loosed the arrow and dropped the bow, waiting. The arrow flew up until it was little more than a black speck to his eyes and eventually he saw the speck extend as it turned and started to head down. This was the closest he could ever get to meditation, watching the arrow descend, its tip poised straight at the center of his chest. He thought about what it might be like, if it struck true. If it followed its rule. Would he find peace? Would all the chaos wind down into a quiet rhythm? Would the castle of order he’d built from nothing stand as a ruin? As a monument to his new life, to his freedom? Would Death finally share his secrets and show him what’s on the other side? The arrow’s head glistened in the sunlight as it finished its approach. Nines pivoted, tossing out his hand as he snatched the haft from the air and spun with its momentum, coming to rest near the edge of the roof as 6 locked down.
The sounds of gentle clapping broke the silence and Nines looked up to find a being that always knew how to make an entrance. Dressed in a slim black suit with a burgundy tie, hosting a sleek black cane with no curve at the handle over his shoulder. His face was covered with the skull of a ram this afternoon, a tattered cowl resting quietly atop its horns. He had less of a face and more of a visage, a strong jawline and chin with no mouth, only the warbling light of what looked like one to match the calm and quiet voice that rose from it.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get my sister’s attention.” said Death, setting his cane gently into the concrete. Nines knew saying nothing would probably be a poor choice, though Death’s presence always made him feel like silence was the best option.
“Do you think she’d notice?”
“Life? No, she doesn’t concern herself much with her finished products. She’s a forward thinker, always moving on to the next task. Her work doesn’t really allow her to review past projects like mine does. Which is probably a good thing, thinking on it now, I don’t know that I’d want her to spread her attention span any more than it already is.” Death reflected, stepping out to catch a view of the city.
“Are you here on business?” Nines asked. A question that hung heavy like a wrecking ball. No matter how it moved, if it struck something nearby it meant damage was guaranteed. Death sighed, or made a noise that sounded something like sighing. He regularly tried to mimic the mannerisms of the living, though he was almost always just shy of the mark.
“I’m afraid so.”
Nines felt the wrecking ball collide with Samael’s entire skyline. Death was overly polite, always making light of the situation to keep pleasantries intact and fears from brewing. The normal response was “something small came up, nothing to worry about”, or “just a personal matter, I’ll be gone by breakfast”. Now he spoke of his own fear. What on earth could Death fear? He felt a thin hand press into his shoulder.
“Things are changing, Nine. The lull we’ve seen in the past months wasn’t War growing complacent. He’s been experimenting. I worry that soon enough we’ll start to see the fruits of his labor.” Death stepped to the ledge of the tower and pointed his cane to the south of the city, as if trying to pin the exact location of something he knew was nearby.
“All these years you and the others have spent surviving this will quickly become your greatest tool.” Death’s body language was somehow still stoic, despite the gravity of his words. He tossed his cane to the air, allowing it to plummet to the ground.
“I hope to have more information for you all tonight. For now, see to your card. This one just might be worth your time.” With that, Death vanished as Nines blinked, leaving him to sit on a small mountain of new questions.
