Tekil Thorkildson's Story

12:15 PM - Babylon, Residential District, Quest’s Loft - December 1st, 2012

The snowflakes fall gently on the hills. The sun shines weakly through the barrier or clouds, and lights up the world, all made white by the falling snow. At the distance, there is a ship, long and slim, decorated with a dragon carved on the quality wood of the longboat. There is a man hanging on it, his fingers playing with the wooden teeth. The man smiles, the rest of his face hidden by the heavy helm. He jumps, and his chainmail tinkles as he lands on the snow. But Tekil only has eyes for his sword. Slowly, the man unsheathes the glorious weapon, Slagænde, and swings it on the air only to impress the child. He is laughing now, a warm and welcoming laugh, as he removes his helm to reveal a satisfied expression. His long blonde hair falls on his back. A warrior.

An unfamiliar sound is heard on the distance, but Tekil Thorkildson does not care. He recognizes one of his Viking ancestors, and is hypnotized by the image. But the unfamiliar sound only grows stronger, dragging him away from this land. The warrior smiles one last time as he hands the sword to Tekil, and then all his darkness.
The beeping sound took control of the apartment, its ordinary mechanical noise overwhelming Tekil’s senses. He instantly and unconsciously reached for Slagænde, and the hilt’s shape soothed the Danish and helped him on his journey back to reality. Dreams like this were common, but rarely did Tekil dream so vividly and with so much detail. He could almost feel the snow, breather the morning air…

Of course, what he breathed instead was Babylon’s polluted and metropolitan air. The sounds of cars rushing down on the street were just as much a part of the landscape as the ever-glowing lights of the billboards and gigantic corporate skyscrapers. Tekil inhaled deeply one more time, and finally glanced at the phone’s screen. The light flickered once, and then he saw just what he expected: a text message, just as so many others before, called him to his duty. Tekil was beginning to realize that this duty was never-ending. It took every second of his time, and even when he managed to travel back to his family in Denmark, he felt the weight of the burden and found himself thinking about it constantly. After so many years, there was no turning back.

It was only when Tekil was fully dressed and had Slagænde safely concealed under his coat that he noticed one detail about the text message: its location. One he was quite familiar with. A luxury apartment downtown that belonged to his old mentor’s son, who apparently needed his help. This made Tekil hesitate for a while. The northlander had been a friend the family for a long time, and had a deep respect for his mentor and nothing but love towards his two children, but that also meant he knew them very well. His mentor’s youngest son was an irresponsible young man that tampered with his powers and had no consideration for them. A child playing with a loaded gun. And finally, the bullet had backfired. A Lost found his way to him, and Tekil doubted the irresponsible young man would be able to deal with it properly.

The Reaper sighed, and knew he had no choice but to face the young man once and for all. He needed to be taught respect, and Tekil was a very patient teacher.
A few minutes later, the northlander was standing in the building’s lobby, trying to notice anything unusual, but the lack of police officers surrounding the building and paramedics helping innocent people tranquilized him. He pressed the glowing elevator button a couple of times, and found his way to the correct apartment. Tekil held Slagænde’s hilt for good luck, and knocked on the door three times.

Quest McBride answered with the same insolent smile he always displayed on his face, and he resembled his father so much Tekil could have sworn he was a child again, looking at his mentor Hakeem as he taught him something new about the supernatural.

The apartment was in poor conditions, and Tekil felt a Lost’s aura fading away immediately. Apparently, there would be no need for fighting. Quest had handled that well, but the hardest part came now: telling him the truth. All of it.

-Quest… It is good to see you. I assume you had no problems dealing with that unexpected visitor? Good. Then I suppose there is no better time for this. We have very serious matters to discuss.

Tekil walked around the apartment, searching for any more surprises, but he could not feel anything else. He noticed a young woman barely dressed at all with a confused expression on her face. Another evidence of the kind of life Hakeem’s son was living, one that Tekil strongly disapproved of.

-I’m sorry, my dear, but you have to leave now. When you arrive at the comfort of your home, a pair of delightful young men will be waiting for you, and in a couple of hours you will forget all about this unfortunate incident. Now, if you may…

The woman quickly grabbed her belongings and left the apartment, looking even more confused than before. It didn’t matter. The Reapers did not leave loose ends, and they had ways of making someone forget they ever had an encounter with the supernatural.

Tekil now turned to Quest, and seeing no easy way of approaching the matter, he simply started talking.

-Quest, you have known me for a long time, and I have known you since you were in your mother’s womb, and I met your father long before that. The circumstances of our meeting, however, are completely unknown to you. He was part of an ancient order of people like you and me, people who can see more than the ordinary person, people who can interact with the supernatural, and people who have received gifts. You think you and your family are the only ones capable of wielding such extraordinary powers, but you are wrong. Several people in this world manifest gifts similar to yours, and I am one of them. – Tekil now walked around, hands behind his back, trying to be as impactful as possible. – Your father’s order, my order, is made of people like you who vow to protect our realm, the realm of the living, from the creatures that lurk in it. Hakeem welcomed me in this order, taught and trained me, but now he has forgotten all he was, and can no longer recall his glorious past, neither initiate you in our ways. Therefore, I must be the one to take his place as your mentor and teach you to master your abilities and, more importantly, to use them in a meaningful way. That is why I ask you, Quest Arapeta Honoiwaira McBride: will you join our order and fulfill your father’s legacy? Will you join the Reapers?

Tekil left the question in the air, hoping Hakeem’s son would show now the responsibility and sense of duty he certainly inherited from his father. The Dane made a silent prayer wishing that he could make this young man into something that the old Hakeem would be proud of as he waited for Quest’s reaction to the stunning revelations.

Rum & Cola


“Quest… It is good to see you. I assume you had no problems dealing with that unexpected visitor? Good. Then I suppose there is no better time for this. We have very serious matters to discuss.”

Of course they did. Whenever Tekil Thorkildson payed Quest a visit, the stay always resulted in some deep, meaningful conversation that you probably never initially desired. Tekil was a friend of the family, the Dane was basically another father to him. And like a father, Tekil never passed up the chance to impart some sort of wisdom upon young Quest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. The fridge is alright, I’ll get you a drink.”

As Tekil patrolled the loft, Quest prepared the drinks. Two Cuba Libres, his drink of choice.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I don’t wanna be a part of it. I’m getting the hell away from this shit!”

Whatshername was gathering her clothes in a fury. As she stormed out without a single glance his way, and slammed the door to the loft shut, he knew he wasn’t ever seeing that one again. And then there were two.

Standing on opposite sides of Quest’s marble island, the old teacher began to speak.

“Quest, you have known me for a long time, and I have known you since you were in your mother’s womb, and I met your father long before that. The circumstances of our meeting, however, are completely unknown to you.”

The ice clanged against the side of his glass as Quest took a sip. “But you’re about to make them known, right?” He pointed out cooly.

“He was part of an ancient order of people like you and me, people who can see more than the ordinary person, people who can interact with the supernatural, and people who have received gifts. You think you and your family are the only ones capable of wielding such extraordinary powers, but you are wrong. Several people in this world manifest gifts similar to yours, and I am one of them.”

Rather than react, Quest instead was blank. Once he starts, Tekil doesn’t stop. To interrupt him wouldn’t lead to any further clarity--so he waited.

“Your father’s order, my order, is made of people like you who vow to protect our realm, the realm of the living, from the creatures that lurk in it. Hakeem welcomed me in this order, taught and trained me, but now he has forgotten all he was, and can no longer recall his glorious past, neither initiate you in our ways.”
Until now, he was pacing back and forth as he spoke. But suddenly, Tekil came to a halt. His deep blue eyes peered straight into Quest’s golden orbs. Like a poor soul to Medusa, he was trapped, turned to stone.


“Therefore, I must be the one to take his place as your mentor and teach you to master your abilities and, more importantly, to use them in a meaningful way. That is why I ask you, Quest Arapeta Honoiwaira McBride: will you join our order and fulfill your father’s legacy? Will you join the Reapers?”

The ‘Reaper’ was leaning over the island, awaiting a response from his mentor’s legacy. The ball was in Quest’s court now. Leaned up against the second island directly behind him, he took a sip of his drink and sighed.

“Reapers.” A final sip from the glass, and the drink was gone. “And my dad.” He slammed the empty thing down on the countertop. “It makes sense though, the part about your group at least,” It was Quest’s turn to pace. Back and forth, back and forth he stepped as he spoke. “Even though she didn’t mention others, it didn’t make sense that the Maori were the only group the dealt with the spirit world. World’s too damn big for a dying tribe to handle. I always wondered who else was out there with our...abilities.” Quest stopped strutting and turned on his heel to face Tekil.

“I’m sure your order exists, but there’s no way my old man, a man who couldn’t even look at his own kids, let alone a spirit, was one of you.” He reached for the bottle of rum that sat by the two men’s empty glasses and filled them both, “Even if he was, it won’t change the fact that I’m not interested.” The young man’s golden eyes were filled with the beginning embers of resolve, “It’s like I told my ma: I don’t care about spirits, destiny, legacy, any of that. I’m gonna live my life the way I want to--the only spirits I deal with are the ones I hunt on TV.” Quest looked away from his glass and back at Tekil.

“So sorry. As much as I owe you, I’m gonna have to turn you down Tekil. Why not ask Hassan? This is more of his speed anyway.”

As Quest organized his thoughts, Tekil already knew what his answer would be. He had hoped that now, under the light of the facts now revealed to him, Quest would feel obligated to honor his father’s legacy and join the Reapers. But the tone of mockery in his voice as he acknowledged one of the most well-hidden secrets in the history of mankind as if it were simply the answer to a dumb riddle not only irritated Tekil, but also confirmed his fear: Quest just didn’t care. And to think that Quest refused to believe that his father, Tekil’s own mentor, even belonged to the Reapers! It was outrageous.

“…The only spirits I deal with are the ones I hunt on TV.”

That was as much as Tekil could take. He was usually a very patient and understanding person, and that was necessary, since he usually took in people that had just found out about their Psyches and the spirit world and were frightened by it. But this… To see Hakeem’s son throw away the legacy of his family and of the Reapers by using his powers to make money… It was an insult to everything Tekil stood for.

-Listen carefully, you arrogant brat! Your father was one of the best Reapers that ever joined our order. He would want you to follow his footsteps to become an honored Reaper, not to waste your abilities into something banal like a television show! It is imperative that you learn right now how to master your powers, or to use the technical term, your Psyche, and ready yourself for the things to come. This is much bigger than you and me, Quest, and it certainly is much bigger than your ego and that ridiculous show of yours!

Over his years as a Reaper, Tekil had learned to seem intimidating. His large figure and the sight of Slagænde were usually enough to frighten people, but now he doubted he could be able to seem fearsome to someone he had seen growing up. Indeed, he noticed his demonstration of anger did nothing to shake Quest, who just replied again in his infuriating mockery tone:

“I’m so sorry. As much as I owe you…” You have no idea, Tekil thought. “… I’m gonna have to turn you down. Why don’t you ask Hassan? This is more of his speed anyway.”

The mention of Quest’s older brother made Tekil hesitate. It would have been so much easier if Hassan was the one whose Psyche had awakened! The oldest of Hakeem’s sons understood things like honor and duty. He would accept the responsibility without second thoughts. However, that was not the case, and Tekil had to convince Quest to, if not join the Reapers, at least allow himself to be taught to control his abilities.

-Your brother is… Not ready for this yet. It is a mystery to me why your Psyche expressed itself before Hassan’s, but I suppose your mother would have a better explanation. The Maori have always been more comprehensive with the spirits and their relations with humans than the Reapers have. – Tekil took a sip of the alcohol, trying to calm himself. – You see, over the centuries these groups collided, the Reapers sure that our plane would be much better if only the living inhabited it, and the Maori trying to adapt to what they call a different stage in life. Your mother’s tribe believes that the Lost are just that: Lost, needing guidance. We Reapers make sure they don’t bother innocent people, and these two different beliefs have been subject to discussion more than once. That is yet another reason why it is important that you join us. Your father marrying your mother was like a statement to the Reapers and the Maori that these two different groups are actually fighting on the same side. If you, the result of that union, were to join the Reapers, it would consolidate this statement and help proving that we are not so different after all.

Tekil now had assumed that fatherly expression that he often used with Hakeem’s children. Instead of intimidating, now he was warm and tried to be comprehensive. Even so, the Dane could not emphasize how vital it was to the Reaper cause that the young McBride joined them, and for reasons far beyond those that could be revealed to him…

-Please, Quest, I urge you to reconsider. We could show you how to use your abilities to the good of this world, and not for your own benefit. Your father would have wanted that…

Tekil felt a bitter taste in his mouth, and a grin full of sadness emerged in his wrinkled face. He talked about Hakeem as if the man was dead, which, in some sense, he was. He touched Slagænde’s hilt for good luck and in respect for his old mentor.

-Your father is another reason why I’m insisting on this. I have a deep respect for him, and owe him my life. However, he cannot remember any of these things, as his memory of his time among the Reapers is lost. Please, do not bother to ask me for details, as I can’t give any to you. No one knows just what happened, but your father doesn’t recall a thing about Reapers, Lost or Psyches. That is why Hakeem himself is not having this conversation with you right now, and I wonder if he did, you would feel more inclined to accept. – Tekil sighed, melancholic. – No matter. Just think about it. I cannot force you to do anything you don’t want to, therefore I hope you understand the legacy your father left behind, a legacy only you can honor.

Tekil touched Slagænde’s hilt once again.

He saw a rage in Tekil that he had never seen before, a rage that was even absent that time Quest got too drunk and tried to fight him. Now that was a fun night. But this wasn't fun at all. It was exhausting, and made that one part of his heart feel all sinky and heavy. What was the name of that feeling? Oh yeah--guilt. Part of him felt bad for turning his friend down like this, but a life of servitude just wasn't in the cards for the young Maori. Not now, not ever. Tekil said that Hassan wasn't ready to join their order--well then why the hell was he ready? Hassan was a man fit to be the exemplar of any group or organization he became a part of. Strong, honest, dedicated....

"Please, Quest, I urge you to reconsider. We could show you how to use your abilities to the good of this world, and not for your own benefit. Your father would have wanted that…"

Tekil shifted from scolding Quest, to pleading with him. Quest reached for his glass of rum, but alas, it was empty. There was no deflecting this.

"Your father is another reason why I’m insisting on this. I have a deep respect for him, and owe him my life. However, he cannot remember any of these things, as his memory of his time among the Reapers is lost. Please, do not bother to ask me for details, as I can’t give any to you. No one knows just what happened, but your father doesn’t recall a thing about Reapers, Lost or Psyches. That is why Hakeem himself is not having this conversation with you right now, and I wonder if he did, you would feel more inclined to accept," Tekil sighed, melancholic, "No matter. Just think about it. I cannot force you to do anything you don’t want to, therefore I hope you understand the legacy your father left behind, a legacy only you can honor." He touched the hilt of his massive blade one final time.

"I'll think about it. Alright?" He ran his fingers through his massive hair with a deep, exhausted sigh. "I can't promise you anything, but I'll think about it--for you. Not for my dad," He reached for the bottle of rum, which was nearing the last drops. Quest poured himself one last glass. The ice within had long since melted into little flecks at the bottom rim. "It sounds like too much bullshit for me to believe that he just forgot about a whole other life. One like what you say he led." In his mind, Quest laughed at himself. Calling bullshit in a world where he just defeated a giant ghost spider. He motioned for Tekil to follow him, he was walking towards the door.

"I've got to get ready for work, we're shooting the first episode of the new season today. I'll just talk to you later."


- - -

Sometime later that day - Under Babylon, The Den



Far below the city of Babylon was a network of catacombs. Here, below the hustle and bustle of the city above, lied a city of its own. The massive stone structure is said to stretch as far as the city itself. There are denizens here that have taken refuge in the underground for sometime, but even they haven't mapped the entirety of the world below. For to even the mighty scope of The Reapers, Under Babylon's true face still remains a mystery.

Men in women, all dressed in varying black outfits stomped across the cobblestone walkways. Lanters hung from the top of the paths, illuminating visitors ways as they go. There were training rooms, archives, and rooms where the more tech savvy of the bunch studied their craft. This was The Den. And in the furthest, most shady reaches of this place lied the hall of the man himself. Who other but The Grim Reaper. It was about as lavish as you could get in a hall of stone. Violet carpets with gold trimmings, televisions, and a system that patched him in to any Reaper in the city. It was a room passed down from Grim Reaper, to Reaper.

Here was where Alan Darkmare had been spending his last days. He was once a handsome fox, white of hair [not from age, but from birth], with a chiseled face, and cool blue eyes. Now he was weak. Covered in veins, clinging to the bed like it represented his life force itself. Nobody knows what brought about Darkmare's sudden illness. Until a few months ago in August, he was perfectly fine. Some suspect foul play, others think it was just his time.

Nobody can quite say why someone's bell toles when it does. It just...happens.

There on his massive bed, shrouded in a white veil, and guarded by the violet canopy that wrapped around it he pressed a button on his bed stand. The button was red, situated on the face of some complicated looking contraption. His bony, pale finger retracted as the device buzzed to life.

"Yes Father?" All Reapers addressed The Grim Reaper as Father. This woman was no different. Her name was Mya Deng, the coordinator of communications and the overseer of Mission Control.

"Mya...." His voice was hoarse, and full of gravel, "Call the following Reapers in for me...." Alan Darkmare spoke slow and careful, each movement of his lips brought pain to his frame, "Something is going to happen tonight."

Tekil hoped Quest would do what he said, and think about it. He could deal with his incredulity later. He showed himself out quickly ignoring the Maori’s remark about his television show, and breathed the cold air. It was snowing, and Tekil always found Babylon’s snow to be quite different from the one in Denmark. It was almost as if the very snow in the city was unclean.

The Dane returned to his apartment, hoping to decide what to do with Quest's unwillingness to join the order. He thought of calling his mother, hoping that she could tell him what to do, but Tekil already knew what her answer would be. Leave him be, Arataki would say, and Tekil couldn’t agree with that. He spent the rest of his day practicing with Slagænde and sipping a bottle of cheap vodka, trying to drive away his worries at each swing.

The Reaper was pulled out of his daydreams by yet another message from HQ. As if having to deal with your mentor’s son rebelling against his legacy wasn’t enough for one day. But when Tekil pulled out the phone and glanced at the flashing screen, the orders surprised him. First of all, they didn’t come from his direct superior in the order, but from Alan Darkmere himself. The Dane saw the Grim Reaper a dozen of times in his entire career, and never even exchanged words with him since he was admitted in the order so many years ago. To receive orders directly from him without previous notice was odd, to say the least. And the message ordered Tekil to report at HQ as soon as possible. Strange.

In all his years of career, the Dane had learned to trust in his instincts, and they were usually right. That unknown feeling that warns you when walking straight to a trap had saved Tekil’s life more than once, and now that feeling was there again, yelling something Tekil couldn’t ignore. It just didn’t seem right. Something big had happened, something that concerned all of the Reapers, and that would have to be something of the highest gravity. Tekil feared for the safety of the younger Reapers and wondered if it wouldn’t have been best just to force Quest to come to the headquarters anyway, but it was too late for that. Whatever happened, the Reaper base was probably the safest place to be right now, and where Tekil could make himself useful.

The Dane sighed, got dressed and started making his way to the business district.

The door shut behind him and Quest was alone again in his abode. Blank of expression, he slammed the empty glass on the counter and trudged on to sit on the red leather couch that sat in front of tall northern windows. His blank face hid a chaotic mess of thought. A mess consisting of guilt, confusion, and anger.

Why couldn’t Tekil ever just come to say hi? Duty and honor were concepts unknown to Quest, concepts he had no interest in. Even if what Tekil said was true about his father--it didn’t make him any more eager to join. If he turned away from being a shaman, why would he even consider being a Reaper?

Filming started at four today. He had to pull himself together. Reality TV seemed like the least of his worries right now.

Quest pushed the thought far into the back of his mind and went to get ready.

He’d worry about the mess from earlier later.

7:39 P.M. - Babylon, Industrial District, Outside Warehouse 13

A full moon was high in the Babylon sky creating a blanket of silver that nestled the entire city. Even the Industrial District, in all it’s stillness, was illuminated. Here, the only movement were a few leftover workers, the waves on the harbor, and a television crew.

“It Came From Beyond” happened to be filming it’s sixth season on this night.

Oh this fateful night.


The cameras were focused on him. There he stood in a black coat, black shirt, black pants, black boots, and black shades. Fog, courtesy of a machine that was way too big, was rolling in. A single shaft of light circled the trio of Quest The Ghost Hunter, ‘Viola’ The Gadget Expert, whose real name was Belle, and Cliff The Old Exorcist.

“And...Action!”

They all stood before an old abandoned warehouse. Windows caked with grime, dust, or just plain broken lined the top. The complex’s outer walls were covered in graffiti tags of profanity or gang nature. The locks have long since been busted, and the tall doors have long since been open, their hinges rusted from years of stillness. Given the nature of the economy, there were plenty of warehouses in similar positions as this one, Warehouse 13. What made Warehouse 13 special though was it’s history.

“Welcome back world of the living, we missed ya.” Each word is forced to be ‘edgier’ than the next. His golden eyes were full of a fire that was absent from everyday Quest. “Cliff, Viola and I are here at none other than the fabled Warehouse 13. My senses are raging from this one.” A series of quick, frantic shots are taken. “Warehouse 13 is a place with a...haunting history.” He wanted to exorcise his own damn self for that one. “See, while most warehouse crews are disbanded because of the company, this crew just...vanished--” The Hunter suddenly turns his head, “In one night.” Quest sighed. “This is bullshit.”

“Cuuuut!” The director hollered. “Quest, script?”

“Sorry, sorry. Let’s run it again!”

The night went on, and for the most part without a hitch.

Quest and the others had finally entered the warehouse. Cliff had lead the group inside, in his hands was a silver chain [in reality it was plastic]. Side to side, he had it move, scanning the area for spirits.

“I-I’ve never felt something like this before. My God.” Cliff’s entire movements slowed, as if he was under a massive pressure. “The number of souls, and the amount of pain here is just...incredible.” Viola grabbed The ‘Exorcist’ by his shoulder.

“You alright Cliff, can you handle it?”

“Yes. I have to!” The ‘silver’ chain was rocking side to side at an alarming rate. “Wait! There’s something else here! It’s angry! Quest it’s--” Quest burst into laughter, followed by Cliff and Viola.

“Cuuuuut! Run it back!”

Shooting continued, despite all of the blooper worthy moments.

Quest and Viola now stood side by side. Viola was holding a tape recorder. Click! As she pressed record on the device.

“Spirits, if you’re there, please, say something.”

Click!

“Alright, play it back.” Quest urged her. Viola nodded.
“Spirits, if you’re there, please, say something.”

There was silence. Quest looked desperate. Viola pressed record again.

“Spirits...”


It hurts! It fucking hurts!

A shrill voice, full of agony cried. Quest’s golden eyes shifted around the room. Viola was still recording-what the fuck was that.

Why is he doing this to us?! Let us go!

A man, bound in chains was crawling towards Quest. “Shit!”

Viola’s mouth dropped. “You heard that too? I’m going to ask it something else!” He didn’t hear a word she said. Instead, Quest was backing away, staying clear of the bound man, who phased in and out of sight.

You have their eyes! Please, help us! Let us go from this place! Let us LEAVE!

The ghost was directly at Quest’s feet now.

- - -

5:07 PM - Under Babylon, The Den

The door shut behind him and Quest was alone again in his abode. Blank of expression, he slammed the empty glass on the counter and trudged on to sit on the red leather couch that sat in front of tall northern windows. His blank face hid a chaotic mess of thought. A mess consisting of guilt, confusion, and anger.

Why couldn’t Tekil ever just come to say hi? Duty and honor were concepts unknown to Quest, concepts he had no interest in. Even if what Tekil said was true about his father--it didn’t make him any more eager to join. If he turned away from being a shaman, why would he even consider being a Reaper?

Filming started at four today. He had to pull himself together. Reality TV seemed like the least of his worries right now.

Quest pushed the thought far into the back of his mind and went to get ready.

He’d worry about the mess from earlier later.

7:39 P.M. - Babylon, Industrial District, Outside Warehouse 13

A full moon was high in the Babylon sky creating a blanket of silver that nestled the entire city. Even the Industrial District, in all it’s stillness, was illuminated. Here, the only movement were a few leftover workers, the waves on the harbor, and a television crew.

“It Came From Beyond” happened to be filming it’s sixth season on this night.

Oh this fateful night.


The cameras were focused on him. There he stood in a black coat, black shirt, black pants, black boots, and black shades. Fog, courtesy of a machine that was way too big, was rolling in. A single shaft of light circled the trio of Quest The Ghost Hunter, ‘Viola’ The Gadget Expert, whose real name was Belle, and Cliff The Old Exorcist.

“And...Action!”

They all stood before an old abandoned warehouse. Windows caked with grime, dust, or just plain broken lined the top. The complex’s outer walls were covered in graffiti tags of profanity or gang nature. The locks have long since been busted, and the tall doors have long since been open, their hinges rusted from years of stillness. Given the nature of the economy, there were plenty of warehouses in similar positions as this one, Warehouse 13. What made Warehouse 13 special though was it’s history.

“Welcome back world of the living, we missed ya.” Each word is forced to be ‘edgier’ than the next. His golden eyes were full of a fire that was absent from everyday Quest. “Cliff, Viola and I are here at none other than the fabled Warehouse 13. My senses are raging from this one.” A series of quick, frantic shots are taken. “Warehouse 13 is a place with a...haunting history.” He wanted to exorcise his own damn self for that one. “See, while most warehouse crews are disbanded because of the company, this crew just...vanished--” The Hunter suddenly turns his head, “In one night.” Quest sighed. “This is bullshit.”

“Cuuuut!” The director hollered. “Quest, script?”

“Sorry, sorry. Let’s run it again!”

The night went on, and for the most part without a hitch.

Quest and the others had finally entered the warehouse. Cliff had lead the group inside, in his hands was a silver chain [in reality it was plastic]. Side to side, he had it move, scanning the area for spirits.

“I-I’ve never felt something like this before. My God.” Cliff’s entire movements slowed, as if he was under a massive pressure. “The number of souls, and the amount of pain here is just...incredible.” Viola grabbed The ‘Exorcist’ by his shoulder.

“You alright Cliff, can you handle it?”

“Yes. I have to!” The ‘silver’ chain was rocking side to side at an alarming rate. “Wait! There’s something else here! It’s angry! Quest it’s--” Quest burst into laughter, followed by Cliff and Viola.

“Cuuuuut! Run it back!”

Shooting continued, despite all of the blooper worthy moments.

Quest and Viola now stood side by side. Viola was holding a tape recorder. Click! As she pressed record on the device.

“Spirits, if you’re there, please, say something.”

Click!

“Alright, play it back.” Quest urged her. Viola nodded.
“Spirits, if you’re there, please, say something.”

There was silence. Quest looked desperate. Viola pressed record again.

“Spirits...”


It hurts! It fucking hurts!

A shrill voice, full of agony cried. Quest’s golden eyes shifted around the room. Viola was still recording-what the fuck was that.

Why is he doing this to us?! Let us go!

A man, bound in chains was crawling towards Quest. “Shit!”

Viola’s mouth dropped. “You heard that too? I’m going to ask it something else!” He didn’t hear a word she said. Instead, Quest was backing away, staying clear of the bound man, who phased in and out of sight.

You have their eyes! Please, help us! Let us go from this place! Let us LEAVE!

The ghost was directly at Quest’s feet now.

- - -

5:07 PM - Under Babylon, The Den

The Grim Reaper sat in a leather bound wheelchair at the head of the briefing table. Beside him stood Mya Deng. Her frame was sleek, devoid of any excessive curves. Her features were precise and angular. Mya's brown eyes were filled with a sense of duty to, and admiration of her leader. The Reapers he called in were only half in attendance--"The Dark One", and Silas Fairchild were absent. Julie Adams, and Tekil Thorkildson were there though, ready to receive their orders. It wasn't often that The Grim Reaper himself lead briefings like this. It was even rarer still for him to meet with this many at once. This fact alone, coupled with his current state, must have expressed to them clearly the urgency of this assignment.

"The others will have to be briefed on the way. For now, let's begin." Darkmare's face was hidden by black silk sheet, draped down past his shoulders. "Mya, if you will." The woman nodded, and cooly ran a finger through her short black hair.

"Earlier this morning, there was an alarming spike in Lost activity. Areas that we normally declared safe zones, such as homes, and schools were attacked. Though we quickly neutralized this threat, it was still seen as case for investigation, considering the recent rise in their numbers." The television behind Mya comes to life. "Given that this trend began around the same time Father took ill, we decided to trace the dates and we found that with each month, there's been a day where the numbers of Lost skyrocket. Today is one of those days." Her voice began to trail off. She was holding something back. "There's another thing that my team and I had discovered..."

"What Mya and her team discovered is that these days of extreme activity coincide with the anniversary of several important dates during my career as a Reaper." The Grim Reaper's voice was much stronger than it was from when he had initially contacted Mya earlier today. This came from a desire to still appear strong before his subordinates. He was their 'Father' after all, he had to lead by example, no matter what state he was in.

Chris stayed at the register as Jenn worked and gawked at the snow and attended customers. He thought she was way to innocent for her own good. Then he was called down. A meeting is being held in the den and he needs to be there unless he wants to get in trouble. He took off his apron and hung it up along with is name tag. He clocked out and called to Jenn. "Cover me please. I will make it up to you later." With that said he left the cafe and made his way to the den for the meeting.

5:07 PM - Under Babylon, The Den

The Dark one finally made it to the den, but of course he was late for the meeting. He wandered down the halls until he saw The Grim Reaper Julie and Tekil going over the briefing. This is seriously important since the Grim is taking the time to do this despite his condition. He walked in with his hands shoved into his pockets and stood in the back watching what was going on. He missed the first part of it. He did hear about the several important dates of his career part though. He didn't want to say anything he would just get Tekil to explain what was going on to him.

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZXT3v1Ngyo]The Den
[/url]


The Grim Reaper leaned forward in his wheelchair.

"The dates aren't the only match here. The locations of the gathering Lost also match." Although his eyes themselves couldn't be seen by his subordinates, he could vividly see theirs. From underneath the black sheet that shrouded him, he stared deep into Chris, Tekil, and Julie's eyes. They would no doubt feel the shrewd gaze of the Pale Rider. Mya clicked a button on her remote, in accordance, the image on the screen behind her changed. The new image was of Babylon, and several marked points on the map.


"These two patterns allow us to trace the spikes, and retaliate. We may not know what is causing the attacks, but we do know now where they'll occur." Mya began, “The location for this one is--”

“Warehouse Thirteen, in the Industrial District.” Alan Darkmare’s voice cut like a dagger through Mya’s speech. “This is the only place that makes sense.” Face full of dolor, he nodded for Ms. Deng to approach the floor again.

“The strike team for this operation is larger than normal with four members total,” Mya looked at the vacant fourth spot, of course he wasn’t here, “Tekil, you will be tasked as the leader for this mission. You and I will be in direct contact here. Julie, Christopher, and Mr. Fairchild, whenever he decides to arrive, will be your support. Make the neccessary preparations and leave at once. We’re not exactly sure what is behind the sudden growth in Lost, take the necessary caution as you proceed.” Mya was as cold as she was calculated when she spoke; her telling to to ‘take the necessary caution’ was her purest form of empathy. With her eyes averting to the Grim Reaper, she bowed. “Father?”

“That is all. If what I feel is any indication, I believe you will have many questions when you return, and I will answer every single one of them.”

Mya grasped the handles at the top of her master’s chair, and with one final glance at the team, took her leave.

Warehouse 13

The spirits around him had multiplied. There were dozens of them now, some looked like workers, others were more...familiar. Dressed in patterns similar to the cloth that hung from his belt, with eyes of gleaming gold, they were without a doubt Maori. Pushed against the rusty end of a stalled conveyor belt Quest was a fucking mess. His entire body was shaking, he couldn’t even move. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen ghosts, he grew up with them even. But something like this, these tortured, screaming spirits. And what’s more they looked like him. Men, women, children. Some of them looked identical to cousins he’d met with just a few months ago.

“What the fuck is going on!” He hollered, “Vince, what is this!” He was hollering at the director. As if he really believed this was some kind of special effect meant to boost ratings. He wanted to believe that it was, but Quest knew this was real. There was no faking the cries. The cast and crew tried to calm him, but Viola too, who heard everything over the tape recorder was paralyzed.

There was a bigger chill in the air. Quest felt his very soul tremble under something. The entire warehouse shook.

It killed Viola first. Using one long blade-like arm, it stabbed her clean through her chest. Her innards sprayed wildly across the area behind her. The entire crew ran, without even trying to help the ‘ghost hunter’.

He tried to scream, but nothing would come out.

When he was sitting in his chair, alternating his gaze from Darkmare to Mya, Tekil felt cold. The room itself seemed to be freezing, what came as a surprise to the Dane, as he had become accustomed to low temperatures a long time ago, but he suspected it was the Grim Reaper’s gaze that made him feel so cold. There was something in his eyes that made them capable of freezing one’s very soul, redefining the word itself far beyond the petty measures of men.

The instructions were clear, and being assigned as the leader of the task force came as no surprise for Tekil. He was, if nothing else, the oldest and most experienced of the Reapers in the room. He had seen Julie, Chris and Silas as they evolved within the order, had accompanied their psyche’s development and therefore possessed great admiration for them. He had seen Julie’s psyche in action more than once, and her skill with it impressed the old Reaper every time. Chris’s psyche was a very useful one, and Tekil had come to rely on his ability more than he would like to admit. Finally, Silas, whose ability of being late was very consistent with his personality and not at all consistent with his violent psyche, which was, just because of that, a very powerful weapon. His team was flawless. A squad of powerful Reapers that Tekil could only hope to lead well in the mysterious mission they were headed.

For even with the Grim Reaper’s briefing, Tekil was still uneasy about the task. It’s true, Mya’s graphics were very efficient in showing that Lost activity had increased alarmingly, but that still did not explain why four of the most capable of the Reapers were necessary in this mission. Maybe precaution was the reason, but the order couldn’t spare this many agents every time there was an emergency. This thought sent a chill down Tekil’s spine. What if the spirits got so restless the Reapers couldn’t contain them? How would ordinary humans react to more and more mysterious accidents caused by the negligence of powerless Reapers that fail to be everywhere at once?

Tekil bowed in respect to the Grim Reaper, knowing he would appreciate the gesture, then left the room nodding for Chris and Julie to follow him. He was expecting Silas to arrive soon enough and join them in Warehouse 13, but he could not wait any longer. They had to departure as soon as possible.

The snow hadn’t ceased, and in the distance, the Dane heard a crow caw once. Definitely a bad omen, he thought.

Warehouse 13

Tekil did not know if it was the nightfall or the presence of spirits, but he certainly felt a bit colder when they arrived at the Industrial District.

At first glance, there was little of different to be seen. The streets seemed quiet, and the giant warehouses lied still, looking like colossal shadows in the sunset blurred by the clouds. But the signs of Lost soon started to appear. A group of people passed by them in utter terror, some screaming, some unable to speak, just running frightened. None of them could tell what they just saw, but a few of them were carrying sound and filming equipment. At first Tekil didn’t care, but then one of the frightened cameramen rushed by, and the Reaper caught a glance of the back of his shirt. It had the words “It Came From Beyond” in ridiculously large letters, and Tekil felt a grip in his heart. Was it possible that Quest was there, in Warehouse 13, filming an episode? It would be no coincidence. The Dane started walking faster unconsciously until he was running, his forty-year old lungs burning with the effort.

When he reached the front door of the Warehouse, his heart nearly stopped, and Tekil’s immediate thoughts were what a burden he would be if he died of a heart attack right there. Quest was there, of course, surrounded by angered spirits, some of them with the heaviest aura the old Reaper had ever seen. They weren’t just angry, they were furious. They were desperate, enraged, and violent. Tekil snapped out of his trance and started giving orders, trying to assume some authority in this desperate situation.

-Julie! Summon some orbs and draw the spirits away from Quest! – Tekil turned to Chris and Silas – Boys, when she does, dispatch them quickly and come back here to help us! Now go!

Tekil unsheathed Slagænde and activated his psyche like so many times before, feeling the strong steel of the blade freeze slowly, eager to strike into something and devour it with its endless cold.

He hoped Julie’s energy orbs would attract the minor spirits from Quest, but he could never expect the huge Lost that now leaned towards the Maori to be fooled by this trick. Tekil Thorkildson inhaled deeply, knowing his ancestors would be watching this fight from the Valhalla, and charged towards the monstrous beast, swinging Slagænde with precision.

Julie's breath drew clouds in the air as the team walked through the Industrial district. It was just about as chilling as the gaze she could feel the Reaper draw during the meeting. What did all those dates mean? Were they really what was behind the spikes of Lost recently? Clutching the cold metal of the automatic crossbow she hoped that their journey to Warehouse 13 would yield some results. Julie usually didn't like bringing weapons on missions, she found them to get in the way often and they were usually too bulky to handle. Her weapon in specific had been specially fitted as a light weight utility though, meant for quick firing and easy reloading. She had also been assured that today, for this mission it would almost surely be needed.

Watching the people running in the opposite direction that they were headed as Julie slung her crossbow behind her, almost assured the thought that they were heading to the right place. People ran when they saw things that they couldn't understand, in this case they sure were right to. Picking up the pace behind Tekil as he began to run Julie wondered what had made the man change his speed so quickly. Looking into the doors though she was starting to understand why. There was a whole swarm of Lost, more in one area than she usually ever saw. There were people too.

"Dang…" She muttered under her breath.

"Julie! Summon some orbs and draw the spirits away from Quest! Boys, when she does, dispatch them quickly and come back here to help us! Now go!"

"On it!" Breaking into a sprint Julie ran to the opposite end of the Warehouse, charging a glowing sphere around her as she went. She could feel it moving in rhythm with her heartbeat as she fed energy into it, the glow starting to grow brighter, soon the place would be lit up like a Nightclub. Normally the Lost weren't really ones for bright places but for some reason they ate the glow that her psyche produced right up,

"there we go…" The smaller Lost were starting to get distracted the light it seemed as they started to inch themselves away from the trapped man and towards her. Tekil had called him Quest, she wondered how he knew him. Whoever he was she just hoped that there were no more casualties in this mission. Seeing the amount of Lost here though she had to wonder if this was just the beginning of things.

Chris did not see Silias walk into the room like he thought he was going to. He didn't make a big deal out of it so he let it go, but soon he would start to get worried. Grim dismissed the team and Tekil was the first one out. The dark one nodded at Father and followed Julie and Tekil out of the room to Warehouse 13. This was always the usual team. Tekil would be the leader and then the others would be there to back him up. He was not complaining about the team he respected Tekil and all the other reapers that were in his team, they were practically unstoppable. Therefore dark one has no complaints about it.

It was still snowing outside and it was freezing. Chris pulled his jacket tighter around himself and watched as he breathed out clouds of air. He felt in his holsters for his two typical handguns and checked for all clips. He was good to go. People were running away from the direction the team was heading towards which meant that they were in the right place. He could read their minds as they ran and most them were comments about them trying to figure out what was going on and worried thoughts about loved ones. The lost souls thoughts were louder than the civilians which made it easier to tell the difference. Right through the doors there was almost a gathering of Lost. "This is going to be fun." He mumbled.

Boys, when she does, dispatch them quickly and come back here to help us! Now go!

Tekil shouted at them and Chris didn't hesitate. Julie ran and did exactly as she was told and Chris followed right in with a handgun aimed and ready. He never had a problem with aiming the bullet where he wanted it to go. As soon as he heard the cock of his gun he shot the bullets and killed the ones closest to Julie. Her distraction was a big help and made things easier. Julie was thinking about the amount of lost and how this could be just the beginning. Chris couldn't have agreed more.

He watched in awe as the entire warehouse lit up like the 4th of July. Technicolor orbs appeared far away from Quest, drawing these twisted spirits far from Quest. The ones that were human still remained still, though writhing, bound by their chains. He couldn't comprehend what was happening until he saw him. Charging into battle with his massive blade in hand. What did he call it? Oh yeah. Slagænde.

Tekil and his Reaper companions had charged into battle, and there he was, cryin' like a baby on the ground of a dusty warehouse. Any human would act just like him right now. As it towered over them, claws on it's feet, arms in the fashion of blades. Biceps and face covered by chains. It was terrifying. There was no shame in it, this thing was scary. As fuck. But they, the Reapers, they were humans too. Even with their Psyches and training, they were human. So why couldn't he fight? Why was he stuck sitting on this dirty, nasty, grimy floor, watching them risk their lives?

He made a fist in both hands, and clinched them tight. Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!

The rabid Lost roared out as Tekil's blade clashed with it's own blade-like limbs. The sound of clashing metal resounded through Warehouse 13. The Dane's companions had slowly been at work dispatching smaller creatures like the big one, but each time the beast roared, more came in their place. Like the age old moth to the flame, they continued to flock to the multicolored orbs. Tekil's opponent had a gaping wound in it's chest. An exposed rib cage in the center of the pale white beast showed a glowing green heart.

Somewhere In Babylon - Earlier That Day

A shadowy room in the back of some sketchy spot. A motley crew of angels, demons, and humans have gathered here. The soul light in the room was a hanging lightbulb, and the tv in the back of the room. The latter of the two, was showing an awful quality image of the news.


"So boys, how was the flight in? Welcome back to Babylon."

A new face walked in. This one human. Well dressed in a peacoat and pants, his face was covered by a white mask. The soul indication of who this man was lied in his two crimson eyes. They pierced through whomever they focused on and demanded you're every bit of attention. Nobody really gave much of an answer.

"Well that's awesome! Really, i'm glad to hear it!" His voice was filled with a bizarre amount of glee that bordered on creepy. "As you know, today's the day! It's time to begin the next phase of our, well, who am I kidding my plan." Even with the blank mask, anyone in the room could tell that this man was smiling wide.

"As the curtain opens on the first of December, a task well be bestowed upon several Reaper members. The Pale Rider will send them to the warehouse none the wiser. For while the order hunts Lost, the truth of tonight will break borders!" The masked man waved his arms in the air with grand flair, "They'll pass tonights trial with flying colors, but their loyalty will be left in a stupor." The beginnings of laughter could be traced in his voice. "Father Death will certainly have some explaining to do...."

In the heat of battle, many things cross a man’s mind. It is in fact the details that he remembers the most. The weather of the moment, the chill of the wind… The scenario gets stuck in his mind, and these memories last much longer than those of the battle itself. It was the will of the Norns, the spinnerets who rule the fate of men, that made Tekil notice a glow inside of the beast while Slagænde’s steel clashed with the unnatural energies of the Lost. Tekil gasped when he saw the thing that pumped like a human heart, and hesitated for a split second, but a split second was all the monster needed. It suddenly gathered strength and pushed the Dane, making Tekil trip and fall on the ground. He blinked, glanced at Quest and tried to tell him to run away, but something moved fast in his peripheral vision, and he had to look back at the monster that now prepared to impale Tekil with his long arm, sharper than any common blade.

But instead of flesh and bone, the arm found Slagænde’s steel, and the ancient sword was no common blade. The arm trapped Tekil firmly to the ground, and the monster tried now to shatter the blade in order to rip the Dane apart. Feeling all of the supernatural strength of the monster, Tekil now shouted to Quest:

-Quest, run! – Another assault made Tekil grunt – Save yourself!

Tekil knew he would not last for long under the incommensurable pressure the Lost now applied. Even though Slagænde would never break, the Dane’s bones eventually would, and then he would be useless and an easy target. He prayed to every god his ancestors worshipped that the others managed to get there in time, and then made sure he was holding the sword’s grip strongly, for only those who died with a sword in hand get to experience the pleasures of Valhalla.

With each strike, Tekil saw the gleaming heart of the creature there, pumping, exposed. However, he could never strike it in the position he was now, trapped against the dirty floor of the warehouse. He shouted again, wondering if anyone could hear him at all over the sound of metal clashing on metal:

-The heart! Strike the heart!

Another assault made Tekil’s entire body shake, and he held Slagænde’s grip firmly once again.

The smaller Lost were starting to get picked off it seemed. Julie's sphere had done a sufficient job of attracting them around her, the monsters beat on the solid yet semi-translucent forcefield before being ripped to shreds by her coworkers missiles. It had taken a while for her as a Reaper to understand that she wasn't going to get hit by anyone by mistake, one of her biggest fears when she was younger was that she'd accidentally take a projectile from a weapon instead of the Lost. That was long past though, they'd all been through the same rigorous training after all.

"Let's start on the big guy now!" She called out now that the last of the smaller monsters had been picked off.

Jogging across the far expanse of the Warehouse to see how Tekil was faring with the larger lost she was shocked to see him pinned down by the huge Lost. The thing had huge blades for arms and looked solid as a brick. What was she going to do now?

"The heart! Strike the heart!"

Glancing up the behemoth she noticed an iridescent glow coming out of it's ribcage which as she looked turned out to be a palpating, green coloured heart. There we go! Dispersing her forcefield into miniature spheres she launched them at the Lost aiming at the gap in it's thoratic cage. Not everything hit but by the anguished sounds it was working. Setting up a spherical barrier between Tekil and the Lost as it thrashed around she called out to the rest of the team. "Guys! It's got a weak spot! Hit that opening in it's ribcage!"

Wait… What was Silas doing in the corner?

"Shit."

Having moments to expand her sphere to her, Tekil and Quest who were in the nearest vicinity of the blast Julie heard a muffled 'boom' through the forcefield, dulled by the barrier around them. Blasted back, the forcefield absorbed most of the damage shattering into a million shimmering pieces around them. Finding herself sprawled out on the cold ground she felt her head spin from a mix of post-impact pain and over use of her Psyche as the dust settled around her. Her psyche wasn't meant to be used so suddenly like that. Slowly getting up she tried to block out the aches and pains and get back to the task at hand.

"Geez! Give us a warning next time Silas!" She called out to her coworker.

After Chris had helped out Julie they both went and attacked the bigger beast. It was bigger than usual and it was putting up a fight giving the reapers a hard time. Tekil told the Quest guy to get out of there and save himself, but the guy seemed frozen. Chris thought it was a bit funny, but he kept it together.

"The heart! Strike the heart!"

Chris positioned his gun to that it was aimed in the middle of the heart. He was a very great aim so shooting the beast in the heart was going to be a snap. Silas on the other hand had different plans. Chris looked back at him and placed his gun back into his holster. Julie cursed and Chris jumped out of the way. A loud boom echoed out and Chris was sprawled out on the floor trying to regain his senses. He rolled over in pain and sat up. Julie shouted at Silas, but her intentions were good.

The dark one pushed himself off the ground brushing away the dust that has now began to settle. "Nice job Silas." Chris said to him as he walked around the partly dazed beast. It was oozing green blood. It was not a pleasant sight, but Chris had seen worse. The Quest guy was still here and talking to Tekil about the beast's intentions. Chris could hear its thoughts, but it was extremely angry at Silas. He pulled out the hand gun in his left holster and shot at it multiple times. He loved the sound of his own gun so he will continue to shoot at it until it backed down.

There was barely any time at all to brace for the impact, and Tekil watched with a mix of relief and anger as Julie’s shield protected him and Quest from Silas’ destructive psyche. The monster backed away, and Chris started to shoot it while it staggered, stunned and furious. Tekil got back on his feet, turned to Silas and shouted at him with true anger in his voice, reprehending the young Reaper, ignoring the fact that he was no longer an apprentice under Tekil’s responsibility.

-Are you out of your mind? You could have killed us all!

But there would be plenty of time for reprimands later. Right now, they had to focus on the Lost, which now prepared to charge frenzied towards Silas. Scanning his surrounds quickly, Tekil saw Quest, who seemed unharmed and hesitated when he told him that the spirits were all Maori. That made no sense. If they were protecting something, why did they only manifest themselves right now? There’s much to this mission that doesn’t add up, the Dane thought.

Suddenly, just like the proverbial candle lighting in a dark room, an idea came to Tekil’s mind. He waved Slagænde at Chris in an attempt to get his attention, and he knew the dark one would have read his thoughts immediately and know all about the plan. His part would be to protect Silas while he distracted the maddened beast, and then create an opening for what the old Reaper had in mind.

-Julie! – The Dane called. – This Lost is protected by magic, in some way, and his aura is too thick for common weapons to break. Even if you strike an arrow straight into its heart, it will have no effect... Unless, of course, the arrow itself is also magical. – He reached an arrow in Julie’s quiver, and froze it in the same way he did Slagænde’s blade every time he used it in battle. Then, he handed it to her. – Use this. Chris and Silas will create an opportunity. Aim it right through its ribcage, and this will all be over.

Tekil fervently hoped that last part was true.

A sudden noise at the shop window made Viola jump. The needle she was holding slipped and stabbed her finger. A drop of blood splashed onto the mouse she was working on and she sighed in frustration. Placing the wounded finger in her mouth, she did her best to clean the fur and then headed for the door to check things out.

Ghostly shapes of people running past were projected on the dusty shop window of August's Antiques and Oddities where Viola had spent the day cleaning and maintaining the items they had to sell. At the edge of the Industrial District, her shop and apartment above it rarely saw many people. Especially not as much as the stampede Viola opened the door to.

They were all running in the same direction, panicked and extremely vocal about their fear. They weren't inhabitants of this district; their clothes said something about that even if their current manner did not. One of them careered towards her, hitting the shop window before running on and leaving a streak of thick crimson Viola would have to clean later.

A wriggling sensation in her mouth drew her attention to her finger again. Due to her unhealthy condition, Viola never seemed to stop bleeding if cut. But pulling it out, instead of red blood a black shape was squirming out from the wound. It solidified into a locust. It stared up at her and rubbed its legs together nervously.

Taking the hint that something was up, Viola locked the shop door and followed her locust in the direction the running people came from. With every step she took, more and more locusts emerged from the edges of manhole covers, shooting out of gutter pipes, and from the cracks between walls. More and more torn bodies lined the street and she could smell a familiar acrid stench. Rounding a corner, Lost could be seen scattered amongst the wreckage of human meat. Viola beckoned her locusts close. From inside a small pouch she drew a vial of dark liquid. She popped the cork and moved to the closest Lost. Its hulking back was faced away from her, too focused on rendering a masterpiece from shattered rib bones. It did not notice her splashing the liquid on one of its many feet, soaked as it were in a pool of blood.

With a motion, the locusts gathered at her feet and she fell through them. They engulfed her as she fell, further down than solid ground would have allowed, but she just as soon emerged from the floor of a nearby roof with the locusts. It was a weird sensation, falling up. But she righted herself and looked down just in time to see the infected begin to writhe in agony. It flailed about, hitting another Lost and thereby infecting it. The disease would eventually work its way through them. It was slow acting, but it would have to do. These were small fry, but there had to be a reason for the sudden appearance. She looked out towards where the concentration of death felt the greatest.

It was a bit far, so it took a few times walking through swarms of locusts to get to her destination. A couple of times in, she emerged in an alley covered in mashed human. The slop got all over her shoulder, and she spent a few seconds trying to wipe it off as her locusts fed on a bit of the meat nearby. Energized from their snack, they hurriedly gathered in front of her and she leapt through them.

Finally arriving through a dilapidated wall, Viola encountered Warehouse 13 looming over her. Bright flashes of light drew her around the building, her locusts trailing after her. A towering beast stood before a group of five attackers. Logic told her they must be other Reapers, as they would have to see the Lost to be able to even land a hit. She hesitated. Since she had left Anchorage and her grandfather, she had never shown herself before another Reaper.

Green liquid was dotted on the ground, the same stuff oozing out of a large cavity in the raging beast. An opportunity.

"Get ready." She whispered to her swarm, and they drew closer to her. Then a large crack resonated in the air. A few more shots followed. One of the Reapers was firing at the Lost. Things were getting significantly more complicated and she had no way to communicate with the other party without letting the beast recover a bit. Even the beast was defended by a thick veil, some sort of magic that would block about any weapon. But Viola was not a weapon. She was just a human and hopefully that and her training was enough.

Viola steeled herself and decided to take the chance. She drew out one of the larger bottles in her pouch, one from the collection of a hysterical woman that killed her husband. With a pencil. What made these solutions work on the Lost was all the negative emotions and hate that people would put in them. It hissed like a writhing rattlesnake in her hands.

She commanded her swarm in front of her and waited for a lull in fire. Just a single pause from the one firing the gun. The beast hesitated a moment under the barrage of bullets. There was the briefest of pauses where it seemed the other Reaper took a second to enjoy the sound of their weapon. Viola took it.

It would have to be the fastest run she had done to date, but the beast somehow surviving the five Reapers and let loose on Babylon was not an option. Viola ran into the swarm of locusts, one arm in front of her, the other clutching the bottle of disease close. Her hand reached for something hot and slick in the darkness and she dug her fingers into it. Viola pulled herself out of the swarm, right up against the beast's chest. A massive glowing green organ was right in front of her. Clinging to the flesh, Viola dumped the contents of the bottle over it. Thick and black, it dripped over the organ and smothered some of its green light.

Her second was up. She pushed off against the monster and flew backwards into the air. All she could do was trust her swarm be there for her. Just as she was falling through her familiar insects, a single bullet ripped through the winter air, just to her left. Her heart was jolted into double time. The bullet had scattered a few of her insects, causing her to fall closer towards the ground before they could regroup and surround her.

Fortunately, she fell right through the ground instead of colliding with it and emerged a second later from a wall behind the attacking Reapers. Her momentum rolled her on the ground bringing her close to the one furthest back. Viola shakily tried picking herself up off the ground, but her body felt it deserved a moment's rest. At the least, she had done what she needed to; the corrosive liquid she had placed inside the thing would make its way all around the body. No one ever expected the things to have more than one heart, but her grandfather had taught her never to underestimate them. Lost always had a way to hold onto the living plane. If it was their job to make sure a Lost was dead, Viola's job was to make sure they were deader than dead.

However, sitting on the ground in the midst of a battle was making her quite vulnerable. And between a few bugs and a the monster's fist, there would be no doubt the fist would reach her. She would have to get out of its way soon.

Maori? What the heck were they doing here? Julie frowned, she wasn't the most senior Reaper but she'd heard enough about the politics behind the two groups to know it was a tenuous relationship between the Reapers and them. She was neither here no there on the subject but it still concerned her that they were here. Was everything somehow connected? Ugh, this was all making her head hurt more.

Running over to the Dane she listened to Tekil's instructions. She was supposed to shoot the thing? Taking the chilled arrow in her hands she had to wonder how all of this was going to go down. Of course like any other Reaper she had to spend her fare time at the weapons range but it still wasn't her best forte. No, there was no reason for doubt, she was fine, there was no room to question herself now. She was going to fire that arrow and do it right.

"Got it!" She said unslinging her crossbow and notching the arrow in.

carefully holding it in her arms she held it up at eyes length trying to get a good aim on the Lost. It was charging though at Silas. Crap! Running to catch up to the beast she felt her lungs burn, adrenaline flowing through her as her head swam. Screeching to a halt though she stopped in her tracks as a swarm of locusts appeared out of nowhere. Sighing a breath of relief she was happy that Viola had the situation handled. The creature was thoroughly distracted now. Lining herself up as the bugs retreated she felt the room stand still for a moment as ripples went through the room. A shiver ran down her spine. The Bell had tolled.

It figured something like this would happen during one of the biggest battles the Reapers had, had in a long time. Snapping out of the heebie jeebies the whole thing had given her she remembered that the Lost would be aware of it too. Taking her aim again as the gigantic lost started towards the direction the spiritual energy had come from she lined herself up and fired. It hit right on contact. A shrill scream pierced the air like nails on a chalk board as green goo-like blood flowed out of the monster as it fell dead.

"Hah! Take that!" Jumping up and down in joy Julie was briefly lost in the moment forgetting about the rest of the matters at hand.

Julie's head still had a rush of adrenaline in it as the group finished up the battle, it also slightly ached too but she was just happy that the whole thing was over. Slinging her crossbow back in place she stretched from side to side trying to get any aches and pains out of her muscles. She figured that there might be a little bruising from her fall earlier but it was nothing she wasn't used to. Feeling a little better she considered the previous events with a quiet contemplation.

It was a frightening idea that Lost could appear that large, of course there'd been reported cases over the years of them appearing, in special cases, but she never imagined she have to face one herself. It seemed that a slurry of Lost related incidences were starting to crop up though so it was no wonder all of this had happened. And it all related back to the Grim Reaper himself. He'd said there'd been more things to come, too? Shaking her head she decided she didn't want to think about it at the moment. For now she was just looking forward to to getting to relax again.

Going to follow the rest of the group out the door to deal with the Bell tolling she stopped herself for a moment, looking at the man who'd been there for the whole scene. Tekil had said his name was Quest, wasn't it? He looked familiar… Wait, he was from that supernatural investigation show on tv wasn't he?"It Came From Beyond" or something. Maybe he knew something on what was happening?

"Hey!" She said as she walked up next to him, "you're Quest right? Are you feeling okay?" She knew for a fact that most people who ended up in these sorts of situations for the first time were a little shaken up. It was something of a desensitization process that took place with the Reapers over lost. Looking Quest up and down she wondered what his affiliation with the whole supernatural world. She knew he wasn't a Reaper, but he still was able to see the Lost.

"I'm Julie Adams," She said with a smile, "you were saying earlier that this place was being protected, do you know what's going on?"

The giant fell. Viola felt its life draining into the soil and the viscous liquids carried with it a rattling hatred that reached the patch of concrete she lay on. She shifted forwards and glanced through the legs of the other Reapers. Black steam erupted around the corpse and congealed into thick puddles. Her disease was going to work, eradicating all that was the monstrous foe before it suddenly disappeared from the world. Neither blood nor sweat shed that permeate the ground shall remain to grasp at the life force on this plane. Despite the black virulence, her solutions effectively cleansed the area.

Someone emerged from the warehouse, claiming territory. Another stood in defiance. It was a quarrel between those of other planes, and looked to have no care for any human's part in it. Not that any would intervene. No, the warehouse was too dangerous; a battleground for higher beings. As of yet, none of the Reapers in the vicinity could hope to breach. Maybe together... but awkward pondering of her ability to be able to work with another Reaper for the first time had to be suspended. Retreat was in order, the fact being Viola was lying vulnerable. Though the commotion would most definitely draw those authorities of non-supernatural affinity, it could not be helped if they had to fend for themselves. It was their own curiosity that should be put to blame.

Echoes of something reached the front of her mind. It got stronger, this calling. Like the discarded blade of a razor scraping across all of her nerves at once. The term for it, the "tolling of the bell", was hardly adequate to describe her own reactions. It was chilling, but a mere nuisance compared to its meaning.

A sudden wrenching in her gut made Viola black out. It was but a moment, and she came to almost immediately. However, the grip in her abdomen twisted and turned her insides in the most horrible way. It was a hunger that pulled at her, like imploding. Humans were never meant to be able to feel such a thing. And this hunger was not even hers.

Viola scrambled further away from anyone, pulling herself behind a wall and into a tight corner. Her breaths came in gasps and a coldness was misting her skin. It was minutes before she could bring herself to speak. "Ugh... come." She called out blindly into the night air. A million insect legs scuttled closer. She willed her eyes to focus on the squirming blurry figures on the ground. "...eat."

Then she lay drained on the freezing cold pavement as her insects ravaged the night's crawlers. Soon, strength came back to her, all the energy she had used to jump the distances with her swarm that night. Viola sat up and watched tiredly as the locusts descended on another of humanoid Lost. As usual, the group divided into two and dove straight into the belly and face. Her swarm loved the taste of face meat and intestines.

Still trembling slightly, Viola picked herself off the hard ground and brushed off the dirt from her skirt. She rummaged around in her bag for a little black notebook which she consulted briefly. Her own handwritten notes dictated she pull out several of her most potent vials and a rather violent catalyst. Viola emptied the vials into an empty canister. And her catalyst element was brought over by a hovering pack of her insects; a small chunk of human flesh, about the size of a thumb, no doubt gathered from one of the surrounding bodies. Her swarm knew her well. Viola plucked it up gratefully.

As she added it to her concoction, the insidiousness of the fumes caused her to choke. The person that the flesh had previously belonged to had to be some sort of compulsive liar and a massive creep, treacherous, deceiving, and venomous when slighted even unintentionally. It was just that sort of flavour of flesh.

Viola capped the container. There was no more time for any further preparation. The presence of Lost attracted by the bell's toll rose like a wave of acid in her throat. She hissed, "Let's Go! Find it!"

She took a step forward, another, and then sped up. At full sprint, she slipped into the storm cloud of locusts that had gathered on her command. This time they were searching for the one giving off the insatiable call to feast. The distance was much longer this time, as the locusts had not yet determined a destination. Space worked much differently at the heart of the swarm, and the impossible physics was beginning to wear on her body. Why is it taking this long? Viola wondered anxiously.

And just as she was about to surface, the reason hit her. The sheer amount of Lost making their way to whoever the unfortunate sod was, the smell of them burnt at her nose and eyes. Viola worked with the smell of rot all her life, but nothing ever compares to her perception of the Lost. It was pulling at her swarm, trying to divert in all ways at once, trying to feed. The instinct of her sentient psyche was hard to ignore, but with grim determination she directed them towards the centre of it all.

Viola and her insects burst from a building facade. She tumbled onto the street pavement behind a small group of people. They were preoccupied by two others, Reapers from the recent tangle. Viola had little understanding of what Reapers were taught at whatever Reaper headquarters or offices or academies for strange people who see weird things. She caught the ends of their statements amidst the angry buzzing of her swarm. They seemed to be trying to keep the civilians calm. Don't they feel it? God, the smell... Viola frantically thought. There was no use in staying calm. She spoke, quietly, but with the greatest intensity behind her words. "They are coming now. Do you understand, Reaper? Your little group and I will not likely suffice in the face of what is to come. We need to take this one and find somewhere safe. Well, safer."

Viola advanced on the group. It was the girl in the middle, the one that as she got closer to, Viola felt more intensely that invisible razor blade dragging itself all over her and scraping her frayed nerves raw. It took effort to not look down and see if she was pouring blood out of every pore. She pulled her gently away from her friends. The target in herself was as much a handicap as the signals she gave off attracting all the Lost; Viola was dealt a crushing headache upon contact and she dropped her hand almost immediately. It was always so much more intense the closer she got to the target, or Viola was more susceptible to it from her own experience of the night that the Lost came for her.

The target seemed shaken. It may have been the words Viola said. But fear is always what kept her alert, kept her running. It would not do to have the ward lulled into a sense of security. Not with what felt like half the population of Lost bearing down on the tiny section of street.

"I'm sorry, but you are going to have to leave your friends. They will be fine, if they run right now; it's you they're after. If you want to live, please, come with me. Or..." Viola looked questioningly at the two other Reapers. "us?"

A ripple went through her swarm. Hunger and excitement transferred to each individual locust in turn. The impending storm riled up the insects in anticipation. Ever closer they came. Viola waved them into a portal-like mass again and turned to the group.

"I need a destination, anywhere in this city should be within my limit." Said Viola to the Reapers. It was a lie. But she would get them as close as she could. "If you follow me, don't stop running. I'm sorry, it's going to be really rough on your body. I don't know whether we'll be going forwards, up, down, or even inside out. But we must run now."