A Scripta

Grim threw open the window of the warehouse down the street from the black building. He was dressed like a typical mage, stuffed under his Roman armor - the only thing that could keep his wings down - a cloak thrown over it and a mysterious arcane hood over his head. He greased the palm of the dock worker and faded into the shadows when he opened the door for him.

He had a clear view of the building. He saw the darkness roiling around it, like dark storm clouds churning in the wind. He knew magic from the Netherworld when he saw it. He had some idea how it was done. It was a ward, certainly, but consisted of what seemed to be layers upon layers of darkness and something else. He knew his magic couldn't get through. How the fae magic did it, he didn't know and technomancer magic might make it through. He narrowed his eyes - as if he'd ask for their help.

"Lot of souls there."

Grim turned at the voice. The young man who had appeared to him at the bank suddenly stepped out of the shadow. He wasn't there before. "All right," Grim said, not removing his hood, "who are you?"

The young man motioned out the window. "Going to try and claim them all?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why else are you here?"

Grim finally had had it. "Stop asking me questions."

"Why? You seem to know what you're doing. Don't let me stop you."

They stared at each other silently. The young man had eyes like his, grey and seemingly blind. Finally, Grim decided to look back out the window and study the building again. He heard the young man moving behind him. Grim watched the darkness with more than his eyes. What he saw disgusted even him - the darkness wasn't pure Netherworld darkness, but layers upon layers of souls, all joined together in a writhing, noiselessly screaming mass, like bodies piled in a mass grave. The darkness bound them together, so all they could do was struggle against each other, striving to get loose.

"Oh, my God," Grim whispered, and stepped back from the window. He looked at the young man. "What do you know about this?"

"That? Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm a Reaper, like you." Finally, he held out his hand. "I'm Lars. I'm supposed to teach you, but you seem to think you know what you're doing."

Grim removed his hood, and shook Lars' hand. "I'm Grim. And I don't know what I'm doing."

"I know." He glanced out the window. "I saw the botched job you did on that Soldier. And how you didn't take LeBeau."

"Was I supposed to?"

Lars folded his arms. "Just because you're a Reaper doesn't make you James Bond."

Grim had to blink for a minute.

"First rule: You can't kill anybody you feel like killing. Ever."

"I--"

"Shut up. I'm only going to say these things once, so pay attention."

Grim shut up.

"Second rule: You can't keep souveniers. You're not a serial killer. That means..." He held his hand out.

Grim looked down at his bag of finger bones. He undid them from his belt and handed it to him. Lars attached it to his belt.

"You're forgiven because you weren't trained. If you do it again, you'll be punshed."

"What kind of--"

"Shut up, I said." Grim did. "Three: Be as gentle as you can. That knife isn't a weapon for the body, it's meant to sever the soul and free it. Use one quick cut, then stab the soul anywhere to send it directly to Hades. Four: Do not take the soul from the body, make sure it's risen from the body before you take it. Yes, we know you have the ability to pull souls out of bodies, but refrain from doing it. Five: If you see a wandering or bound soul, send it to Hades immediately."

"But--"

He held up his hand. "You have a special rule. Five-a: You can summon a wandering soul for your use, provided it does not kill another person, and you must send it to Hades as soon as you're done. Bound souls must be immediately released. Zombies don't count because they have no souls.

"Listen: You will feel a pull to a certain person or place. You must wait for the death to occur there. You cannot cause it. You cannot stop it, except once in your lifetime. You will be invisible and intangible to the people there, unless they're sensitive to divine beings. You do your work, and then you have until the body is moved. If you stay there, and the body's moved, you'll be corporeal again. Do you understand all this?"

Grim nodded.

"The Scythe will assist you if you get stuck."

"It'll talk to me?"

Lars rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't know how to use enchanted items."

Grim did - you just let the power flow through you. You become the instrument of the item, and it's usually temporary. He looked out the window again. "Those are bound souls."

"It's your duty to release them."

Grim nodded, pulled the hood over his head.


"This one's a hot one, Al."

The heavyset guard leaned over the counter to look at the television monitor that his coworker was studying. "Looks like a student."

"They're hot, doncha think?"

The guard raised an eyebrow. "You're into the schoolgirl kink?"

"Plaid skirts, Al. Plaid mini-skirts."

"Sick bastard."

"Not like I'd do your daughter."

"You'd better not! I'll kick your ass from here to Galaxy City!"

The monitor flipped to infrared for two minutes. The men looked away, not liking the green blobs on the black screen. They talked about the game last night, as a green blob appeared on the screen and stood still. The monitor flipped back to real time for four minutes, and the men looked back. "Ah, the girl's gone..."


Grey Maulkin wiped the sweat from his brow and set aside the flexible cane. Ugly red welts were all over his servant's thighs, buttocks and lower back. Maulkin undid the cuffs holding Cobra's hands above his head, and let the arms drop. Cobra almost fell forward but righted himself - his Master would tell him when to rest. Maulkin put his shirt back on, and studied his servant, trying to think of another transgression to punish him for.

The room roared.

"What the fuck?!"

Maulkin ran out of the room into his workshop, which suddenly seemed to have a windstorm somewhere in it. Papers and items were flying everywhere, caught in a hurricane. Grim watched as ghosts seemed sucked away in a wild tornado that flew through his closed door. Maulkin battled through the psychic wind, threw open the door and found himself out onto the roof, seeing the souls caught up in something and flying off the roof. The darkness and souls all around the building swirled past him heading in the same direction.

It sounded like a train coming through, the roar was deafening. Maulkin followed the souls off the roof and saw something on the ground, glowing white, and all the souls were heading right for it.

Then he heard the spell: In paradisum deducant te Angeli! Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et æternam habeas requiem! (May angels lead you into paradise! May the ranks of angels receive you, and may you have eternal rest!)*

"NO!" he screamed and flew at the white light below.


Grim had raised Scythe above his head, and the spell came unbidden. He had started it as a chant, something that his soul seemed to remember, and he found himself lost in the chant, totally ignoring the wind whipping his cloak around and his hood off, at the spirits grabbing at him and flowing into Scythe, then through him straight to Hades. He watched them all pass through him, some tried to touch him with memories, but he let them all go, his mind on the chant and the spell.

He heard a scream of "No!" and looked for a moment at his reflection in the glass windows of the building. He blinked - he was glowing white, he was blond and white again, and wore grey robes. He glanced up at his hands, they were still black. Grim realized he was seeing his own soul. He didn't stop the chant until someone broadsided him.

Grim focused now, and was looking into blue eyes not dissimilar from his own. It suddenly registered who it was. His doppleganger's face was furious. A gauntleted hand slammed into Grim's jaw. Grim summoned strength and shoved the man off him.

The two of them regarded each other. Grim held the knife like Kal had taught him with his knife fighting classes. "You think that will hurt me?" the man said with a smirk.

Do I sound like an asshole when I talk like that? Grim thought, and waited for the other man to make a move.

Then the man started moving his arms. Grim realized he was using old fashioned Circle magic, with lots of movement and words. Grim had moved beyond that a long time ago. Grim knew all he needed to do was throw him off somehow. Grim drew a rune of force and threw it at him - a very strong wind directed right at him. His doppleganger jerked an arm, dismantling the spell, and Grim laughed. Then he rushed at him.

The blade slashed across the man's chest, and he howled. "You made me bleed!" Grim grinned, knowing that he used to feel the same way about bleeding.

"You'll get over it," Grim said, and slashed at his face. Another gauntleted hand slammed into Grim's face. He stepped back, the bones reknitting. Then the man yelled something arcane and threw something glass on the ground, and it shattered.

A black soul came up screaming. Grim eyed it, unafraid.

"Kill him!"

The soul suddenly had a fiery sword in its hand. Darkness flowed from the originator into the soul, who started gaining definition and becoming corporeal. The fiery sword swung in Grim's general direction. Grim's Scythe blazed with white light and countered it. Grim had never had fencing before in his life, and allowed Scythe free reign with his body.

The soul continued to swing while Grim parried. It grew stronger and stronger as it advanced. Grim looked around himself to find a way out. That's when he noticed the guards running at him. He would be easily overpowered, and he knew it. Grim stopped, raised the Scythe in a salute at his forehead, and flew straight up. The soul followed, but as it gained distance, it started losing its form. Grim just kept on flying, not looking back, heading out across the ocean. He didn't look back until he got to the other side of Terra Volta. By then, he had stopped glowing, and so did Scythe. He looked at the blade and smiled as he sheathed it.

*(In Paradisum - modified - from the Latin Requiem Mass)