Babylon City

12:08 PM - Babylon, Residential District, Quest’s Loft - December 1st, 2012

The Recipie [Wake up Quest]

Rays of sunlight that breached the blinds caressed his face. The scent of her, the woman’s from last night that, who’s, for several reasons, the largest being, he cannot remember, name shall remain anonymous, perfume. There was something else in the air too. Leftover green bits of ganja, sitting just beside an unrolled bit of paper, and the final sips of a bottle of expensive liquor at his bed side. Although anyone of these things would be a delight to this particular man’s senses, it was his ears that reaped the greatest reward, and finally caused him to awaken.

The lyrics to his favorite song, serenading him in a way that nothing else could quite compare.

They come for women, weed, and weather...Women, weed, and weather...



Quest Arapeta Honoiwaira McBride couldn’t help but smile wide as he stirred from his slumber. He looked upon her, the nameless woman with whom he had spent a fiery night with, as she slept beside him wither her arm around his waist. With some delight, he recalled last night’s conquest. It was the premiere party for season 5 of It Came From Beyond. For a moment he recalled the gasps, the moans, the smoothness of her skin. Quest met a lot of his women at parties like these. They were fun, easy, down for a good time, and most importantly, when you send them on their way, they rarely have any qualms about leaving.

That’s how it should be. The Maori thought to himself as he reached for his night stand. First, he grabbed the bottle of liquor. It was some expensive shit with a name he couldn’t even pronounce, he remembered he only bought it because he liked the way the girl said it’s name. It tasted like shit--but why waste good alcohol? Quest chugged the last bit of it--not enough to get remotely buzzed. After that, he reached for the little nubs of herb that were beside the bottle. On that same wooden table were a lighter and his intricately carved wooden pipe. Flowers and tribal runes were all inscribed on it. The delightful smell of charred wood indicated years of use.

He packed the green inside the bowl, careful not to do it too tight. Before burning, he sniffed it and grinned wide. Finally, he lit it. The smell of the burning bush wafted through the room, creating a delightful fog throughout the small space. He inhaled--held it--the exhaled the cloud.

“Ah...”

Euphoria. Quest leaned back against his headboard and primed himself for another hit.

The woman--whose body was curvy in all of the right places [especially in her behind], had skin dark enough to be considered some kind of hispanic, or black, but not so dark as to rule out italian, with long, silky black hair [that led him to think--Indian!], you know, the kind you want to play in, and a pair of plump, juicy looking lips that were too full not to kiss--finally stirred at that point.

“Mmmn...” The gorgeous belladonna in question looked up at him with her light brown eyes. “....Hey....” She smiled at him. One of those half smiles that could have meant any number of things. One that showed her trying to recall the events of the night before. Her clothes were strewn about the room, along with his own. She was completely nude, and he was only in his boxers. As he passed the pipe to her, and she grabbed it by the warm bowl, none of that seemed to matter.

Quest watched her take her hit. This scene was pure, and total bliss. The sun was shining, herb was in the air, and he was partaking in it with a beautiful woman in bed. For this one, single moment, everything was perfect.

And then those ever so important hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. He froze, watching the area closely. Something was here.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a gh--”

“Get off the bed!”

“What?”

“Get off the bed! Now!” Quest shoves her off her side, and he then, quickly rolls to the opposite side. The bed is crushed an instant later by a large, hairy, blue arm. It flails around, attempted to hit whatever target it can--and then retracts.

http://www.yourepeat.com/watch/?v=u_vN-UQ2TiY&s=yt

“Quest, what was that?!” She wouldn’t be able to see the arm, and even if she could her reaction would be the same. So all he did was grab her by the shoulders and look her in the eyes.

“Just stay here aight? I’ll handle this.”

“You sure?” She looked genuinely concerned.
“Yeah, ‘course. I’m ‘The Ghost Hunter’ after all. Yeah?” They both smirk. Quest grabs the pair of black pants he had on last night, and throws on a white button down and heads out his bedroom, tailing the assailant.

How the hell did it get in here? Where is it now...I gotta be careful...

The outer area of the loft was wide open space, save for a few support beams, and a two center islands that made up the ‘kitchen’. Judging by the size of that thing’s arm, it was big--it wouldn’t be hiding behind something. Nah, it would be...

Crash!

A heavy arm slammed down from above--just a hair away from Quest. The aftermath left a gaping hole in his hardwood floors. There was no time to lament though because --“There ya are!” Up on the ceiling was a gruesome sight. A blue, ethereal spider. The figure of a human was poking out from it’s center, writhing in pain. It was a Lost soul, tormented by negative emotions it held onto before death. Quest needed to aim for that.

Raaaaaaaugggghhhhhh!

The spirit roared in pain. A mighty roar that shook the space itself. Another arm was sent barreling downward towards him. This time though, the Maori was ready. Tattoos flowed from his bicep to his hand. Quickly, one by one, they formed into a dense, circular shape--it was a shield, as long as his arm, and as wide as his chest.

The recoil of the attack meeting his shield sent tremors through his body. The spider howled again--it was getting frustrated. Quest watched it rear back four of his arms and began to dart forward. One--dodged, two--blocked, the shield broke apart, reverting back into plan tattoos on his arm, three------dodged. One half of the kitchen islands stretched out before him, so he hopped aboard, the momentum of his run pushing him forward as he slid across the cool marble surface.

Where was the fourth one? He hadn’t heard and attack since before the third, so where was--

The might force of the Lost Soul’s arm exploded on Quest’s stomach. The sheer force of the blow sent him flying back over the island, and into one of the loft’s support beams. Ears ringing, body throbbing, he saw with blurry vision the mass of the giant scamper towards him from above.

Guuuyi?
GrugGrugGrugggggg!

It was sizing up Quest. But it was confused too. Maybe the last bit of the soul’s mind was fighting for control? He didn’t know, nor did he care. Once again, his tattoos gathered at his hand. This time slower. In his left hand, a dense, all black bow appeared. There was one arrow inside of it, ready for duty.

Carefully and silently, he readed the shot, aiming straight for the human shaped protrusion. Fucking spider. Quest let the arrow fly.

Yaaaauuuuughhhhhhaaaaaaa!

The shot connected and the spider came crashing the the floor. It was a testament to the architect that the wood didn’t shatter. Quest dispersed the bow’s shape, and now held a black blade.

PuuuiiiiiiiPuuuuuiiiiiPuuuuuiiii!

As he inched ever so closer to the spirit it wiggled on it’s back, trying to get back up--but it was no use. It was over. Quest’s entire body was still on fire from the blow, even so, he pulled himself on top of the spider. Gathering whatever might that was inside of him, he shoved the blade into the troublesome thing. It roared out, one final time before disappearing into a mass of blue, otherworldly flames.

The blade he used hit the floor with a thud, not the clang of an average sword. The hilt, handguard, and the blade, one by one, each of the tattoos making of the sword found their place once again upon his body.

knock, knock, knock!

There was someone at the door. Quest prayed to every God in the book that it wasn’t the other residents.When he got to the door he found that he couldn’t have been more wrong in the assumption.

“You’re late.”

The theater-quality sound system was still playing his song as he beckoned his guest on in.

“Scuse the mess. You missed out on the party.”


A plane flew over the loft.


- - -


Somewhere In Babylon - 1:00 PM

A room full of silhouetted figures sat at a round table. The only sound besides their breathing, was the tv in the back of the room.

Alan Darkmare, Babylon’s beloved mayor, is still missing. Mayor Darkmare was last seen three months ago, in a state of considerable illness. Since then, Councilman Maverick has been acting Mayor...

Natz yawned running a hand through her blue hair and leaned back in her chair. She had gotten zero sleep. All night she had been working to put pictures together to make a collage for her boss that would hopefully get her a promotion.
She rubbed her eye's and took her phone out of her pocket to check the time. 1:25 am she squinted reading the time as the sudden burst of light from her phone blinded her.
She got up from her desk accidentally disturbing her dog Lion who had been asleep at her feet. He gave her a huff before rolling back over and going back to sleep. "Sorry." She whispered walking to the kitchen. Or what she called the kitchen, which was really a tile floor with a refrigerator, stove-oven and two counters.
Some people would turn their nose up at her small one bedroom apartment, but Natz was just happy to finally be able to live alone.
She flicked on the light and stumbled over to the fridge. "What to eat? What to eat?" She mumbled as she opened the fridge door and began searching for something. She pulled out an old Chinese box. Hmmm, yesterday's lunch? Is it still good? Natz shrugged and grabbed a fork walking back to her bedroom, which was only three steps away.
Natz set the Chinese box on her dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a long sleeve pink shirt that hugged her upper torso. She pulled it on and went back to her desk where Lion was sleeping.
She kicked the furry husky making it crack an eye open. "Time for a walk." She said putting the Chinese in a nearby trash can.
Lion lazily got up and stretched out his limbs before trotting to the door ready to go. It's always nice to get out before all the busy cars and people on the sidewalks got in your way.
This is why some people call Natazilia a loner, because even when she didnt mean to, she ended up avoiding people. It wasent her fault, for some reason her and people just really didnt mix.
Natz walked out the apartment building with Lion at her side. She breathed in the refreshing morning air as she walked down the street.

It was simply one of those ancient quandaries that had plagued humanity since its genesis, all those hundreds of thousands of years ago-- presumably it had been murmured in hushed tones around the tribal fire, in a sort of primitive proto-language, wholly inadequate for expressing the nuances and subtle metaphorical implications of the matter-- a question pondered, perhaps, by such legendary minds as Plato and Socrates, those great thinkers of the Greek age-- even then those veritable gods of philosophy and Western thinking had perchance failed to discern a definitive conclusion, an answer to the dilemma, leaving it to the later generations, hoping that those denizens of aeons to come could conceive of a final elucidation to a predicament that had haunted humanity all its existence-- nay, one that existed, mayhap, beyond the bounds of human consciousness and existence, that had preceded this petty thing called humanity and would remain a plight of sentient existences long after humanity had passed into oblivion, a mere footnote in the vast, mysterious annals of the universe...

DVD player, or laser?

"You would think," Alex murmured to herself, punctuating the words with a small grunt as the pliers she wielded with the one hand wrenched at the diode enclosed within the heat sink held in the other. For the purposes of this little experiment, she'd decided to go about it with a Southern drawl, because one tired of talking to oneself in their own accent, of course. "...that the answer would very obviously be laser. But'cha don't see many folks makin' lasers outta DVD players, now do ya?" Behind her, tossed rather unceremoniously to the ground, was an old, less than state of the art DVD player, lying in a sad pile, deprived of its essential components and therefore its purpose. What can I say, always been more of a books type'a person than a movie watcher, Alex had reasoned, just before she'd taken her pliers to the poor thing, taken what she'd needed from it, and then chucked the rest after off-handedly tossing in thanks for its years of sparse but valued service. God forbid, however, she go about such delicate work in silence-- nay, she made sure her apartment was booming with her beloved music. She'd set her computer to random, picking and playing songs from her music library at random-- at the moment, for example, she was currently humming along happily to the lovely tunes of Devourment's 'Postmortal Coprophagia'. In a moment, unbeknownst to the young Edison hard at work, she would be enjoying the subtle jazz nuances of Coltrane's masterpiece 'Blue Train'. Just a few moments ago, it had been ambient rain. That kind of head-banging, bone-crushing music, you know.

"And now the collimation optics!" Alex announced grandiosely, moving to strike a triumphant pose and succeeding only in tripping heads over heels over a stool and slamming her face on her work bench on the way down. "The diode!" she cried out in horror as though the old DVD component was a nuclear device that would detonate and annihilate all of Babylon if it so much as touched the ground, a split second before she hit the ground in an unceremonious mess of the unused electronics and junk that constantly littered the floor of her apartment. As for the diode, it clattered harmlessly to the ground, and then lay there looking rather cheekily at her.

"Oh, don't you gimme none'a that," Alex rebuked the thing as she scrambled up to her feet, snatching the diode up and examining the little component for any signs of damage. "Aw, yer alright," she decided, patting the diode comfortingly. Yep-- quality construction, that. Not like the DVD players they made these days. "I tells ya," Alex declared as she turned back to her work bench. "Them new-fangled Blueray thingermajiggs ain't no good fer nothin'-- ol' Nat dropped his on a carpet floor and the damn thing all but cracked in twain. Aye, there ain't nothin' good comes of sacrificin' durability for a prettier pi'tcher... anyway! The collimation optics. Yes." She dropped the Southern accent at last, reverting to the good ol' natural Scots as she took up the collimator module and fitted the diode into it, turning (with the obligatory flair, of course) to the vice on her bench and fixing the jaws to press-fit the diode in snugly. "All cosy in there?" she asked politely, just to be sure, before she loosened the vice jaws and retrieved the module.

From there, t'was a slice'a cake. Or pie. Alex was more of a pie person. Slice'a pie. Preferably apple. Maybe with a bit of-- Okay, I think I took the metaphor far enough. Now I just want pie. Where was I? Oh yeah. Easy as pie. She'd already built up a nice little DDL driver for the purposes of this humble little experiment, added on an old LM317 current regulator she'd found lyin' around from previous little 'projects', now it was just a matter of testin' the voltage, adjustin' it to a comfortable 400 mA, attachin' the driver, hookin' up a lithium-ion battery to the proper input-outputs, fixin' in a heatsink she'd cannibalised off a spare CRT, shovin' the whole thing into a prepared project box, and heck, ya had yerself a fine laser with which you could presumably burn little holes in things. Or people. Alex had never actually tried using a laser to burn a hole in a person. Kinda made her wanna try just t'see what happened, but alas, people tended to frown on that kinda thing.

But they were generally just fine with burning holes in inanimate objects as long as it wasn't theirs, so Alex just went ahead and burned a beautifully perfect, nicely sized hole in her own workbench. "Duuuuuuuuuuuuuude." The grin already threatening to split her face in two widened as she gazed fondly down at the laser. "Groovy." She tossed it up in the air, caught it, and then laid it back down on the workbench, figuring she'd show it off to the ol' gang when she met 'em at the shopping district. But there was a good hour or so 'til she'd have to set out for that, so in the meantime, she contented herself with singing along proudly (and none too quietly) to some old Siouxsie and the Banshees tunes as she, for the first time since the invention of the telegraph, set about cleaning up her work space a bit.

After all, nobody was around to see her singing, and flourishing, and dancing, and subsequently tripping over her own feet like the ol' klutz she was very good at pretending she was, but maybe if she kept up the act even when nobody was around to see it, she'd become it.

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.

12pm- Babylon, Residential District, Chris's Apartment- December 1st, 2012

What time was it? Windows were wide open revealing the small crappy apartment Chris resided in. A loud groan escaped his mouth from the pain his body was in. He fought a lost soul yesterday and he took a beating. Nothing he wasn't used to, but the morning after was always hell. He rolled off the bed and stretched all of his body parts while stretching out his neck until there was a loud popping sound. The clock across his bed on the wall read 12pm. He was late for work again. He didn't like it, but it paid the bills.

He dragged himself to the bathroom and took a long hot shower. In the nude his muscles seemed bigger, but he was never one to boast about them. He just didn't like looking like a weakling anymore. After his 20mins in the shower it was time to get out. He hair was wet and its color was darkened. The towel wrapped around his waist and he strutted over to his closet. He threw a string of random clothes together not caring what he looked like. The towel fell and his clothes came on. His gaze shifted to the towel on the floor. He wasn't the biggest clean freak so that towel was going to stay there until later in the day. He made his way to the nightstand that contained his wallet, keys, and cellphone. He pocketed everything and his stomach growled loudly. It was feeding time for the reaper.

In his kitchen something was moving around and raiding his fridge. He already knew what is was and he was not in the mood to help any lost souls at the moment.

"Could you get the hell out of my kitchen? I will help you when I get back." Chris blurted out.

"Hello to you too dark one?" The soul answered back.

The dark one. That nickname was given to him by many people, but he never said anything about it. It was catchy and matched his job description. He felt darker as a reaper and he didn't work with the happiest people.

"No greetings Lola. Out." Chris responded by pointing at the door.

He would often see harmless souls around his apartment asking for his assistance. All of them usually get the help and are freed, but Lola seems to e having problems. She is always around and no matter what Chris does he can't seem to help her or get her to leave. It annoys him. He was practically taking care of her.

Wait why is she in the fridge?

"I just want to make you breakfast. Damn no wonder you are girlfriendless. " Lola retorted as she stomped out of the kitchen.

"I am fine with that. You can leave through the door or the window." Chris added.

"Alright. I'll see you later then." She said before disappearing. A annoyed sighed left his mouth and he left his apartment to go to work in the cafe down the street. He could already tell today was going to be a long day.

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.”

12:30pm- Babylon, Residential District, Julie's apartment- December 1st, 2012

Her face had been stuck to the glass, staring out the window for about forty-five minutes now. The first snow of the season always made Julie feel sort of nostalgic. Like she wanted to go out and build a snowman or something. The situation had called for a bag of marshmallows in the least which was sitting there half eaten in her lap.

Tracing a smily face in the fog that had condensed on the window she got up from the kitchen chair in front of the window setting the bag of marshmallows aside. Julie yawned. She had been up for about 2 hours now, approximately an hour spent getting ready for the day, trip-hop was still pumping from the stereo in her living room, reminding her that she'd forgotten her midmorning workout routine for the plexiglass window next to her.

Grabbing her yoga mat out from its hiding place Julie stretched after she'd laid down the mat in the living room, reminding herself that today there was no rush, there was no school today and alls that were left to study for were finals. Plus, she hadn't received any calls yet about reapings for once. Settling into her yoga routine position a smile spread across her face, this had to be one of the few days that she'd had to herself in a while. As much as she liked to get out and moving it was nice to have a little peace and quiet for once.

She was getting called in just about every day lately. It seemed like Lost were just popping up all over the place. And of course as always she was the one called in to light up the place and lure them in for the kill. It was taking a heavy toll on her grades that was for sure. Frowning she rolled into a the headstand pose known as Salamba Sirsasana. Grades were on of the few things that she worried about. Feeling the blood rush to her head as gravity tumbled her hair around in front of her eyes she realized she really should be studying. Urgh, she was tired of playing catch up though.

Letting out a sigh as her arms gave way and she tumbled back down onto the mat Julie flopped out on the ground letting herself stretch out. Exercise felt good but she felt like she was missing something outside. Putting the mat back in place and and turning off the music she styled her hair and got out of her exercise clothes changing into some warm winter ones. Screw it, today was a snow day.

Running outside into the crisp air and tossing herself into a pile of snow by the nearby park she looked up at the sky trying to discern each snowflakes pattern as they around her. It was a little chilly but it was definitely a lot of fun. This was definitely what she needed today, a snow day.

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.

"Bullocks bullocks bullocks bullocks..."

The chant was not an unfamiliar one that spilt forth from Jennifer's mouth, it was often the only thing lighting her lips in the morning; it was just always strange to hear it from her as she rushed down the road towards the small cafe she worked at, hair mussed from sleep, the remainders of black kohl liner haloed around her watery blue eyes. Cursing, in any way, shape, or form did not suit the slim Brit. She looked like a young girl stretched into an adult's body, a china doll with sharp porcelain lines all about her face. There was a bruise fading on her left cheekbone, the only remains of a scrap she'd been in a few nights before, a scrap she hardly even remembered, and one she was sure she had walked away the victor from.

As she jogged down the street, her loose jeans barely clinging to slim hips with the help of a very worn leather belt, she tried to tug her choppy, layered hair back into a ponytail, before giving up with a grunt. Screw it, screw it all. She was late, she was tired, she was annoyed. Today was simply not her day, and she was aware. Most days weren't her days. And it sucked. Hard-core. Slowing to a quick-paced walk, she tried to tug her clothes into a placing, where she hoped no one would know she'd just barely rolled out of bed, but then again, that never worked. All her coworkers knew her, knew her mannerisms, and loved to tease her about it. And she'd yet to figure out a way to fool Chris.

Christopher, one of the blokes she worked with, and someone she sometimes considered a friend. He was tall, and caring, and had a gruff sort of air about him, like he was fighting an internal battle 24/7. And he was cute. Oh, God, was he cute. Jenn had never been the type to get weak-kneed over anyone, but Chris had that type of face, the one that made everyone, even guys, do a double take. He was also someone that she had classified as "unreachable." There was something with him that made him feel...like a different part of humanity. Not to mention the fact that he was her coworker. And you didn't date someone you worked with, no, it simply wasn't done. Besides, Jenn wasn't big on dating, not seriously, and she didn't even want to delve into the obnoxious world of flirting or anything again.

Just one block to go, and she was only five minutes late for her shift! Hell, she was making good time, maybe she'd have time to cover her bruise with makeup after all! Allowing a tiny smile to settle on her lips, Jennifer rounded a corner, passing by a small alley way...and nearly doubled over as something cold rushed through her. This bloody feeling, it was popping up all over the place, especially when she passed creepy little hollows like this. It made her feel faint, like something was ripping away her breath, pushing it forcibly from her lungs and making her vision go blurry. Darting her eyes around, she saw a shadow. Not a usual one, no, but the kind she was beginning to see everywhere, the type that made the air around them shiver, the type that only grew, never shrunk, and always seemed to want to crawl towards her. Which this one was. Very fast.

With a quiet whimper, one that sounded like the was trying to escape some kind of horror-movie-monster, Jennifer scuttled down the walk, taking twice as many breaths to try and recover the oxygen she'd been robbed of. After what seemed like ages, she threw open the door to the cafe and was instantly engulfed in a sense of warmth and friendliness, and she sagged against the door frame for a moment to gulp down her rising panic. Composing herself, she slid over to the counter and punched her time card, trying to think of something pleasant. Usually, a warmth like this meant that Christopher was already here. And when Chris was around, for some reason, the shadows didn't bother Jenn anymore.

And she was extremely grateful for that.

Chris finally got to work and he was actually on time. Which was very strange, being late was his specialty and no one said anything about it. Shrugging it off he punched in his time card and grabbed his name tag. He made his way tot he cash register and did the daily counting and refilled most of them with money. He works the register because being a waiter means he has to talk to people and he didn't like talking to people that much. Once he finished with the resgisters he pinned the name tag on his black tshirt. He was one of the first people here so he was extremely bored. He checked the time on his phone and let out a sigh. Jenn was suppose to be here by now.

Just as he was thinking it she strolled into the cafe. He could admit that Jen was pretty and nice enough, but he did not date. He stayed as far away from relationships as possible. He never saw the point of them and someone was always at risk due to his reputation. If he had no ine to care about people would be safe. She clocked in and she had a relieved look on her face. He never took her for someone who liked to work here.

"Hey Jen." He said to her as he threw a wave. His smile was minimal and subtle. He considered Jenn a friend sort of, but there were things that she didn't know about him and things he didn't know about her. It was fine with him. She was the only person. He was close to that didn't know who he truly was.

"So I just sit in reverie, getting on my nerves--" Alex's voice accompanied the voice emitting (at volumes that were, perhaps, a little more than politeness allowed for) from the music system she'd set up in her apartment, fighting the music for sonic dominance. Hell if she wasn't exactly the best singer ya'd ever heard in yer life, but it was one of those days where ya weren't singin' t'sound good. Just one'a them... 'I don't give a fuck I feel like building a laser and then singin' some shit' days. Everybody has one every now and then, don't they? And that was damn straight what she was doin'. Not givin' a fuck and singin' some shit. Way punk rock and whatnot. To which end, she figured 'fuck it' and cranked her voice up another notch. "--the intangible bonds that keep me sitting on the verge of a breakdown, of a rea--aaaaaaaaaaa, huh?"

Alex couldn't help but scowl as she felt her phone vibrating to life in her pocket, realised that someone was calling her. More importantly, someone had interrupted her one-man rockfest, probably with something incredibly inane and stupid, like how she was half an hour late to that little get together with her friends off in the Shopping District, which she had been aware of for the past, oh, half an hour or so. It was probably one of them, calling to bitch and whine at her for being late. Yes, she'd long since concluded that her initial analysis of people in general had been erroneous-- probably because she had drawn her conclusions with insufficient data and certainly insufficient experience. But that did not mean people didn't still have a way of proving themselves, if not wicked and vile, then certainly irritating and imbecilic. Well, she tried to see and appreciate people for the good in them, but how was she supposed to divorce herself of such convictions if people were so determined to prove them right time and time again?

Well, it wouldn't have been much help to just let the phone vibrate away, nor to remain holed up in her apartment when she caught herself slipping into the 'ol 'people are vile shitbags and my lot in life is pretty terrible so why even give a fuck' way of thinkin', cause it was a slippery slope from that to the whole 'people suck fuck the world I am a lone wolf in a sea of misguided, ignorant, blind sheep who don't understand me for who I am' and next thing ya knew she was listenin' to Dashboard Confessional and wearin' black make-up all over her face and makin' a GothPoetry account under the name 'xoXoBlackMidniteEmoPrincessxoXo' and writin' horrid verses about how 'life is pain and mere existence is torture and people don't understand my deep existentialist agony' with very badly forced rhyme schemes.

And Alex didn't plan on havin' that happen, so when she answered the phone, she donned a wide, genial smile and a light, cocky tone. "Heeeeeeeeeey."

"Heeeeeeeeeey," the phone spat right back at her in the form of a rather familiar voice. "Now just where the hell are you? You're a half hour late and you're usually here in time to call me a buffoon for being late, or something like that."

"Now, now, Mister Rollins," Alex returned fluidly, one hand holding onto the cell phone as she casually went about preparing to be on her way. "Let a guy take their time, yeah?"

"Bullshit. Lemme guess, you blew up your apartment again."

"Och, ya blow up one measly 'lil block or two and y'never hear the end of it. Now, you notify the constituents of our erstwhile expedition to the coffee house that I shall be along to join you with utmost alacrity. In fact, make a point of informing them that I shall in the interests of expedience venture to expend a degree of currency on a commercial transport automobile to bear me unto my destination."

"... a what now?"

"A bus, Greg. A bus."

"See Ally, why can't you ever just straight up say 'bus'? And for that matter--" He forged on before she could remind him that he had just called her Ally again and his doom was therefore impending. "--that implies you were, what, gonna walk? In this frost?"

"Hell fuckin' yeah I was gonna walk. Ain't no 'lil snow day gonna stop Alex MacKaye doin' what she damn well pleases."

"You're fuckin' nuts. That, and you need a car."

"Those mechanical abominations? Have I not already elucidated the absolutely appalling effect of such modes of travel on the young, budding globe upon which life tenuously hangs in the balance? Nay, sir, Alex MacKaye trusts only her own two feet to get her where she needs to be."

"Well then see to it that they get you here, eh? Joey here's about to blow a friggin' gasket--" There was the sound of some chatter in the background, and then what Alex was pretty sure was the sound of a fist impacting flesh, followed by a yelp of pain. "--scratch that, about to fuckin' lose his shit every second you're not here. I think he's into you, I really do, but every time I bring it up he--" Alex pulled the phone away from her ear as Greg's phone clattered to the ground, about half a second after that familiar 'fist meeting flesh' sound came through again. A moment later, he picked it back up, and his voice was punctuated with an exaggerated desperation. "Look, whatever ion cannon you're building or crazy-ass physics equations you're doing, get it done fast before I need an ambulance."

"Sure thing."

"No, really. I think I broke a bone. One of my lungs might be punctured. I could be dying, all because you were too busy to be there for your bro in his time of need."

"Far out, dude," Alex replied, with equally exaggerated apathy, as she went about clasping the chain of skulls and inverted crosses into the loops of her jeans, tucking them over the bullet belt slung around her waist. "I'll be sure to put a flower or something on your grave when I find a spare minute or two."

"Oh truly, Alexandra, ye art a cruel mistre..."

Alex left Greg with a final twinkle of artificial laughter, a brief, impish chuckle that was genuine enough for him or anybody else, just before she hung up on him and shoved her phone back into her pocket. She glanced down at herself, making sure all was in place. Chains? Check. Skulls? Check. Inverted crosses? Check. Bullets, slung to perfect asymmetry? Check. Boots? Check. Jacket? She dove down to where the oversized leather article, positively encuirassed in patches and pins and spikes and studs, lay where it had been tossed down to the floor, and quickly shrugged it on. Check. Grab my wallet, grab my music player, grab my laser, bada-bing, bada-boom, ready to rock'n'roll, motherfuckers. She struck a whole air guitar pose and pretended to totally rock the fuck out like she was Jimi Hendrix or some similarly legendary wielder of the axe before she finally dove right on outta her apartment and slammed the door on her way out.

The nearest bus stop wasn't far along, but hey, what was the rush? Might as well take my time and enjoy the crisp winter air, she reasoned as she stuck her hands in her pockets and adopted a leisurely stroll. She proceeded thusly, taking her sweet 'ol time until the bus stop by the 'lil park was in sight, the nearest one destined for the Shopping District. Not a whole lotta people were out and about-- never were on snowy days, for whatever reason-- but Alex did manage to catch a familiar face as she approached the bus stop. Julie Adams, from back at the university, was all but buried in a pile of snow, though Alex still managed to recognise her from the distance (she was, Alex confessed, something of a striking woman, and Alex did pride herself on her discerning eye). Now Alex coulda just walked on by her and gone to wait the four or five minutes before the bus arrived, but that sure as all hell wasn't Alex MacKaye, was it?

At the very least, she figured she'd direct a greeting Julie's way, so she waved over to the woman, called out a little "'afternoon!". Y'know. Bein' friendly. As always.

Damn that was a fine snow angel. Admiring her work as she rolled over into a fresh pile of snow Julie could feel the coldness seeping into her jeans as what little body heat she generated melted the snow into them. She shivered. Even with the two pairs of wooly tights she was wearing underneath them she could feel Babylon's notorious winter creeping up. Pulling her fuzzy hat a little closer into her head and rubbing her mittened hands she decided that she would love this weather even if she lost a toe to rolling around in the snow like this.

It was the weather that reminded her that the holiday season creeping in. The shopping malls and coffee shops had already been blaring the Christmas music that even she a bit too cheery for quite a while now. Of course she'd already gotten most of her shopping done. She was probably one of the biggest pushers of 'the Orders Secret Santa,' after all. She'd smother them all to death in holiday cheer before she let that tradition die out. It reminded of her own families holidays traditions even if her attendance back at home for them were a bit hit and miss. She hoped that even with all the reaping work piling up she'd at least get to go home in time for the Holiday dinner and watch everyone drunkenly spew their weirdest secrets over spiked eggnog. Ah, how she loved the Holidays.

Christmas was never really a dreaded thing with her family like it was in some households. Honestly it was more of just a time to pig out on way too much food (like she didn't already), and hang out with everyone. Her father himself had probably perfected the art of the roasted turkey, tying it up and laying it in roasted veggies in the oven like both some exonerated and exalted deathbed for the glorious bird. Her mouth was beginning to water now. She should've brought a snack with her.

Pushing aside the Christmas cheer Julie looked up from her little snow pile to where the greeting had been directed from.

"Hey!" She cheerfully called back as adjusted her scarf so it wasn't strangling her quite so much, "Isn't this weather awesome?"

It seemed to be Alex. She hadn't seen her in a while but she certainly remembered her as her physics lab partner last year. They'd nearly blown up the place with their applied quantum chemistry experiment. That crap was pretty amazing even if her marks had suffered a bit from the incident. Of course Alex was quite the character herself though and Julie had to give her props in the wardrobe department too, where the hell she'd found half those accessories was beyond her. Besides the crazy wardrobe and characterizations though, Julie was happy to converse with the woman just based on the level of intellect she exhibited, it was amazing what came out of her mouth even if half the time it was in a riddle of some sort.

Of course though the awkwardness set in for a moment as she realized she hadn't spoken to Alex for probably half a year now. She really had to make a list of people to keep in contact with. Work kept her so busy that half the time she dropped off the face of the earth at the university and didn't surface until she'd literally risen from the dead a few days later completely scrambling to catch up.

"Soooo, how's it going?" She asked trying to catch up to where in the world everyone else was. "Done any cool experiments lately?"

"Oh, hey, Chris," Jenn panted, smiling at him through a panicked expression, "morning." She paced past him, grabbing an apron from beneath the desk and smiled at him again, taking a moment to let a warmth wash through her. She was safe when Chris was here, and that was a great thing, she loved being safe. Being protected. She just wish she could protect him back.

"You look like you were running late, too," she teased, ducking into the back to fill the coffeemaker with water and start heating everything up. She needed coffee. A lot. Now. That shadow was still haunting her mind, and if she glanced out the window, she swore it was still there, watching her, waiting for her to slip up and come outside so it could trap her and do...what? Jenn wasn't sure, but she knew it wouldn't be good. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Chris liked to hear Jen's thoughts. Of course he never told her se could hear his thoughs and he never commented on them, but they were reassuring. But today was different. She was relieved about some shadow. She kept thinking about how when he was around she felt safe. He smirked to himself on that one. The shadows fear the dark one. They only ever arrive in his presence to kill or ask for help. Jen made a joke about he was late. "Yea I woke up late and got umm distracted." Lola was always delaying him. He needs to get rid of her so they can both be at peace. Jenn said she wouldn't tell and Chris nodded. "And I won't say anything about the coffee you consume." She was always taking coffee, but he never said anything because he never cared.

Chris didn't like that the shadow was clouding her mind. He didn't know how to help without inturrpting her thoughts which he refused to do. He continued to pretend that he dn't know what was going on with her.

"Hey, if I didn't have coffee, I'd be a useless lump, wouldn't I?" Jenn laughed gently, setting the coffee to brew and hopping up on the counter so she could see both Chris and the door, in case any early customers (or creepy shadows) decided to pop in. "Distracted?" Raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, she smirked, then faked a pout. "My hearts been broken, you never told me you had a lady friend! Oh, and I'm sure she's much prettier than me!" Unfolding herself from the counter, she gave him a gentle punch on the arm and slipped into the back once more.

The air smelt like coffee, deliciously warm and bitter, and she nicked a cooling cookie from a baking rack before biting it in half and chewing thoughtfully. She pressed her fingertips against the bruise on her cheek, wincing slightly, then squeezed her eyes tight shut. This bloody headache would kill her if she didn't get any caffeine in her fast. Her head pounded and she leaned against the counter with a quiet groan. Yay. Great beginning to the work day.

Chris laughed at the joke towards herself. "Yea you're right. That's why I don't say anything." He leaned against the counter waiting for a customer to come in. They don't get paid if they don't work. Then Jen got worked up about him being distracted and assumed that it was a lady. She even punched him in the arm and the went to get her coffee. It didn't hurt, but he rubbed the spot where she hit. "It wasn't like Jenn. And why did you seem a bit jealous?"

Chris got a headache from reading her mind too much. He put up his mental shield and it helped him a bit. He can't read minds all the time or it will hurt. "Jenn pour me coffee too please?"

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."

Alex had shoved the headphones back into her ears, determined to continue rockin' out in the precious little time she had 'til she met up with Joey and Greg and Ana and the lot of 'em. Rockin' out was always a good thing. One of the few things Alex knew for sure, without doubt, without confusion, that she loved and enjoyed. One of few things that whatever mental fuck up had ruined everything else for her had failed to take from her. Not yet, at least. But there were many things she had used to take a lot of joy in that she had come to realise no longer made a difference to her. She'd long since come to the understanding that she was degenerating. And therefore she did not feel it far fetched to suspect that it would not be long before the vast world of music she could still take solace in immersing herself in would be eventually snatched away from her as well, locked away, just beyond reach, just like everything else denied to her.

But those were things she'd come to terms with long ago. Right now, she wasn't thinking about them. Right now, she was rockin' out.

But she had, of course, directed a greeting out to Julie, and t'woulda been a way ass-y thing to do to crank her music way up after that, even if she wanted to. Y'know, in case Julie said something back. Alex had learnt (many, many years since, to be sure) that people didn't like to think they'd been ignored, so Alex figured she'd keep the music down in case Julie said anything in reply, and then crank up the Napalm Death once Julie went back to... uh, making snow angels, by the looks of it? Once she went back to doing that, and Alex went back to waiting for the bus to come 'round. Indeed, a second later, Julie's voice came in through the noise that constantly polluted the air and atmosphere of Babylon, a call of "Hey! Isn't this weather awesome!" Alex flashed a thumbs up Julie's way, tossed back a vivacious laugh of "I love it!" as she trudged through the thick patches of snow that infested the sidewalk towards the bus stop. The little aqueous crystals clung to the soles and sides of her boots, gradually melted into icy cold water, slipped their way into the interior of her boots and soaked into the hapless materiel of her socks. And if the snowfall kept up, she'd probably be hard-pressed to step foot outside of her apartment without stepping knee deep into a pile of wet, freezing, highly unpleasant snow.

Alex fucking hated snow.

She honestly hadn't expected Julie to approach her, though she had no particular qualm with Julie herself approaching her. No more than she was bothered by anybody else approaching her-- Make of that what you will, I guess? Alex addended with a mental sort of shrug as she heard Julie's footsteps, crunching against the frost lining the sidewalk. She was not familiar with Julie Adams by any stretch of the word-- not as a friend, nor as a constituent of the wide circle of acquaintances Alex maintained and cultivated like an accumulation of mildly interesting collectibles whose ranks occasionally swelled with the addition of a new-found amusement. She did remember an occasion in which she'd worked with Julie on a particular experiment involving both Julie's biochemistry branch and Alex's own physics work, and the inevitable mayhem that had all-too-quickly followed... and as far as Alex was concerned, anybody who could damn near blow up the university and come out of it completely satisfied with the result was a-okay in her book. So when Julie finally met her stride and began to walk with her, Alex had donned a friendly smile.

"Sooooo," Julie began cheerfully. "How's it going? Done any cool experiments lately?"

"Weeeeeeeelll, y'know, nothin' outta the ordinary," Alex replied in kind, with a nonchalant shrug, before she made like a thought had suddenly struck her. "I mean, I did have a bit'a spare time earlier today, so I whipped this 'lil bad boy together." She reached into her pocket for the little project box laser, held it out for Julie to see. "Four hundred milliamperes. Nicked a two-terminal transfer diode off an ol' DVD player, built me a 'lil collimator an' a simple 'lil DDL driver, the works. Powered with an LI-ion battery. Nearly burnt a hole in my hand with the thing. It was grooooooooovy."

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.

Julie looked down at her shoes as she walked next to Alex to the bus stop, briefly considering that she should've waterproofed them as the icier chunks of snow snow melted into the microsuede of the wedged boots. That or a pair of gumboots. Winter ones possibly. Wait-- did fur lined gumboots even exist…? That would have to be one of the weirdest things ever. Weirder than Nike endorsed Crocs. She'd have to research all of this when she got home.

"Four hundred milliamperes. Nicked a two-terminal transfer diode off an ol' DVD player, built me a 'lil collimator an' a simple 'lil DDL driver, the works. Powered with an LI-ion battery. Nearly burnt a hole in my hand with the thing. It was grooooooooovy."

Looking back up as they stopped she noticed that Alex had produced a small box out of her pocket. She'd said a laser?

"Wow, nice," She exclaimed raising her eyebrows.

Examining the box without actually touching it Julie wondered what this woman could do, given the actual proper tools to create these sorts of weapons. She wondered if she could commission her to make her something like this on the bigger scale. The Order would probably cover it since she hadn't used any other physical weapon other than that crossbow for the past nine years . She never actually dared to touch the laser though. She'd learned over the years that you didn't touch appliances that university students had made, unless you were sure you were (in Julie's experience) that it wasn't going to singe your eyebrows off--or worse. Especially if they'd just previously stated that they'd just about burned a hole in their hand earlier with said appliance. She'd have to seriously look into the whole idea of weapons of mass destruction getting made though.

Shivering, Julie realized that no matter how she loved winter, the cold didn't exactly love her. Her jeans were soaking wet and her boots were starting to make that awkward squelchy noise that you got when there's too much water in them.

Laughing she waved at Alex, "I should get going now, I'm freaking freezing. Catch you later!" Turning around she walked back on the path to her apartment, "good luck with your laser! Try not to collimate any Gamma Rays!" She called behind her.

----------------------------

3:34pm- Back at Julie's apartment

The winter chill gone, Julie was back in her apartment sitting in a fluffy white bathrobe, her fat cat, Jynx, in her lap and a cup of hot chocolate steaming on the coffee table next to her as she waited for her clothes to become dry again. There was a distant buzzing in the corner. Lifting the overweight black cat off her lap she went over to the coat rack and rifled around in her purse looking for her phone. It had to be in here somewhere. Buried underneath trail mix bars and makeup she found the lilac coloured iPhone buzzing with a text. It was from The Order. Damn, she'd been hoping to have the day off for once. It seemed like the meeting was being called by the Grim Reaper himself though, so it had to be important. After all, she'd never seen Darkmare himself. Rumors were he was sick. Maybe it had to do with that? She had to wonder at all of this.

Forgetting the cup of cocoa and the cat she rushed to get changed into something drier and a little more appropriate for the situation. She opted for a black turtleneck with grey skinny jeans and her black leather jackets. Choice colours for a reaper. Tossing on a few gold bangles and a long gold necklace she quickly got on her boots and made her way down to the Business district and into the catacombs of the order, finding herself a chair in the briefing room as she waited for whoever else it was to arrive and to find out what exactly was going on.

Pouring two mugs of coffee, she bustled over and pressed one into her tall companions hands. "I was being silly," she snorted, lifting an eyebrow, "you know, sarcastic? You're perfectly allowed to have lady friends, Chris. I thought we Brits were supposed to be the dry ones, and the Americans were funny?" Smiling with a teasing wink, Jenn slid onto the counter again, hooking her ankles together and swinging her feet. "Though, I don't think you've ever mentioned a girlfriend before...so who is she? A friend? Family member? One night stand, perhaps?" She sipping the hot brew and made a happy chirping sort of noise before grinning wickedly. "Give me all the juicy gossip, and don't skip details, we have time and I'm easily entertained."

Suddenly, the dark-haired girl was distracted by a flash of white out the window. "Oh, it's snowing!" Eyes glimmering, she beamed at the snowfall and laughed. "How did I not notice before? Gah, I'm such a doughnut, I swear..."

Chris grabbed his cup of coffee that she had poured for him and started to sip it slowly taking in all the flavor. He wasn't a big coffee fan, but this was to be his breakfast and he was going to enjoy it. She babbled on about the 'lady friend' of his in the house and he could not help, but chuckled at her persistence. Of all things Chris tries to avoid having a committed relationship with anyone. He doesn't like how they turn out especially with his certain abilities. "I know what sarcasm is Jenn. I use it all the time." He tries not to, but sometimes people deserve sarcasm. "But you are right I do not have a girlfriend. She is just someone that lives in the same apartment complex as I do and likes to bother me." He stated. It was half true. She was always bothering him, but she did not live there.

As he was describing Lola to Jenn, she started gawking at the fact that it was snowing and that made him smile. Sometimes it a reassuring thought to know that there is still some innocence in the world. "Jenn you act like you have never seen snow before." He took another sip of his coffee and set it down on the counter next to him. He watched her get wide eyed at the falling snow and thought it was hilarious. "And you are not a doughnut. Doughnuts are round, full of fat, and delicious." He added knowing full well that she was not calling herself a literal doughnut.

"I've seen snow tons," she murmured, gazing at the falling flakes, "it's just always pretty to me. Something fresh and airy and sweet and clean. It's like a redo button, y'know?" A mischievous smirk spread across her lips and something flashed in her light eyes. "It's like a fresh slate that you can just dirty all up again." With a slight snicker, she slid easily off the counter and grabbed a few menus as an older couple shuffled in for an early breakfast. "Good morning!" she chirped, and in a flash of black hair and bright apron, she was instantly switched into work mode.

When Jenn worked, she was much different from her usual self. She was quick, clean, polite, all smiles and happy voices and chatting with the customers. It was certainly different from her usual snark and cocked eyebrows. And it was a great thing for her, a great thing that made her very happy.

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.