Archive of Our Own ^beta

William T. Spears—supervisor of the Shinigami Dispatch department—sat at his desk, going through his files for perhaps the sixth time since finding what he believed to be an encrypted code in one of them. With a frown of concentration, he continued to work on it until he figured out a way to decrypt it.

He wished he’d never done that. The moment he broke the security code and saw the message: “Dispatch operator Levitz”, his computer began to beep and blip at him. Then a code of numbers sprang up and his entire database became compromised.

"Oh, bloody hell," cursed William. He did his best to salvage it, and while he was in the process of doing that, Ronald Knox came into his office.

"Hey boss, I’m about to head out for the night," informed the blond. He walked over to William’s desk and dropped his file folder of reports on it to be processed. "Er…you okay?"

William rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and shook his head. “No, Ronald Knox, I am most assuredly not okay at this moment. I believe someone has hacked into our network and…and…oh, hell.”

Ronald leaned over the desk with a frown, sticking his face in front of the computer screen. “What?”

William stood up, grabbed him by the arm and nearly yanked it out of the socket. “Go. Just go, Ronald.”

They made it to the door and William found it locked. He frowned and he tried his keycard. It didn’t work. Ronald’s babbled questions certainly weren’t helping anything. An odd vapor began to come in through the air conditioning vents, and it smelled of sulfur.

"Ronald, don’t breathe," he warned his confused underling, narrowing his eyes.

"Boss, what the hell’s going on?" demanded Ronald.

"I said don’t breathe!" snapped the supervisor. It seemed a mild threat considering their kind didn’t require oxygen to live, but he could not draw breath to call for security and considering how this had just happened, he wasn’t certain he truly wanted to. The purpose of the gas became clear to him as the fumes made his eyes sting, and Ronald coughed a complaint.

"Oh, honestly," Choked William, looking at the floor-to-ceiling pane of window facing out over the city.

This was going to hurt.

 

---

 

"Mister Knox, do remain calm. We cannot draw attention to ourselves. Let us first find a hotel and get checked in. We cannot stay in the open, even here. It is far to dangerous and our wounds need attending." William spoke firmly as he knelt down before the frightened young reaper, who had collapsed, exhausted and in pain after their turbulent port to the mortal realm.

Currently, they were hidden in an alley, but at any moment a mortal or reaper could discover them. It was imperative that they find a hiding place; and fast. There had been no time to make it to either dispatch officer’s home to collect clothing or other important personal items. No, they had been forced to flee with only the clothes on their backs. Now stranded in the mortal realm, their home cut off from them, William looked towards the streets of London. They had to find a safe place, figure out who they could and could not trust, and how to stay alive.

"Calm down? Were you not in there with me? Did you not see what filled your office?! Fuck! Senpai! Someone tried to kill us—or you—but I was there too, so us! It’s not right! I don’t care how pissed off people are about any overtime you give them! An assassination attempt is way over-reacting!” Ronald huffed, bending over and breathing hard, “Rhea’s fuck! I can’t breathe!” The young blond coughed and looked up at William, “What was that all about, anyway?”

"Honestly, Mister Knox?" Will’s brows both raised in question. After a moment, he closed his eyes and shook his head. "I really cannot say. But it appears I stumbled upon something I was not suppose to and now…"

Will stood up and looked towards the sky. He sighed before he looked back down at the dumbfounded blond. “We’re being hunted.”

"And you pull me into the hunt? I thought you liked me, Senpai!" Ron complained, starting up, "So where do we go? Can’t go home now. So much for finding a date for tonight…" he sighed and  walked to the end of the alley, peeking out at the humans going about their business.

William watched as the blond waked to the edge of the ally. He frowned as another sigh escaped him. “I know of a hotel, not far from here. We can stay there for a night or two. I have some money on my person—enough for the room, a couple days worth of food and two sets of clothing for the both of us, along with a few necessary items. We can lay our plan out as soon as we arrive at the location and settle into our rooms.”

"I have some cash on me, too, but not an impressive amount. I don’t like having too much on me in case I drink too much—I’ll end up drinking away my wallet if I get too drunk. But I can pitch it in for helping out. Man, this sucks!” He  huffed and  turned back to look at William, “Where’s this hotel? This area isn’t near my pubs, so I don’t know the area as well.”

"The hotel is just around the corner and down one block. Not far. It’s respectable and we will have plenty of privacy. Shall we be on our way?" Will replied as he stepped alongside the blond. His eyes began to wander up and down the boulevard. "I do believe the coast is clear."

Ronald nodded, looking down at his signature white shoes as they stepped out side-by-side and headed down the cobblestone sidewalk towards the hotel. “Sir…have you any clue as to what all that was about? I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it. We are on the run and I haven’t the faintest idea as to why or from whom.”

William looked over at his companion, then looked straight ahead. “I didn’t get a good look, but before the screen went haywire, there was a list of reapers. My name was at the top and then there was a message about treason.” He sighed as they began to cross the street. “I wish my memory would serve me better, but regrettably I was overcome with thoughts of escape and survival. What I did see is vague to me. The only thing I am certain of is that we are in danger and Dispatch is being cast into chaos as we speak. Who is behind it? Your guess would be as good as mine.”

"Well, I don’t like it!" Ronald huffed, crossing his arms, "I’d rather have overtime—and you know how much I loathe the idea of overtime!” He sighed, taking a deep breath and letting it out, lacing his fingers behind his head as he walked, looking up at the sky, “Hey, boss…what you did back there—you know, using yourself as a wrecking ball to that window to get us out of there…that was kinda cool.”

Scoffing, Will paused on the pavement and turned to the blond. “It was nothing more than me trying to save our lives. There was nothing ‘cool’ about it, Mister Knox. Would you rather we had stayed and discovered first hand what was going on? Though I doubt we would be alive if we had.”

"I probably would have thrown a chair if it had been me to think of a way out first." Ronald shrugged, "You got all into it. One minute you were scolding me for breathing and then the next—no more window. No matter the reason for it, it was still cool!"

William rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses before resuming his steps and continuing onto the hotel. The title of being cool was redundant to him. He had strictly reacted on instinct. It was either stay and meet their end or jump and live another day.

"Not much further, Mister Knox." He stated as the hotel came into view. "Hopefully rooms will still be available as the season has just begun here. Society has returned to their capital."

"If not, we’d have to find a different place, I guess." Ronald shrugged, "What sucks is that we shouldn’t stay here too long. If we are being hunted like you said, we should keep moving.”

"A night or two we can afford. However, I do concur with you. No more than that or we will be found out." Will agreed, but his shoulder was beginning to ache where a large shard of glass had cut into the fabric of his coat, scratched beneath his white dress shirt and into his flesh. He would heal, but the wound still required medical attention and a good night’s rest. Subconsciously, he reached up began to rub it.

"We may also need to find mortal work or something to help pay for—is something wrong with your shoulder?" Ronald fell in step behind William and looked closer, "Oh—shit! That looks like it hurts!"

William glanced at the blond. Snarkily, he scoffed: “You do know how to use that odd colored head of yours, don’t you? I have just assumed all this time your head was full of nothing but liquor and the cheap perfume of all the ladies you chase after. I am quite astonished, Mister Knox. As for my shoulder… it is indeed hurt, but shall heal.”

"Not with that glass shard in it like that!" he insisted, "We need to get it out, clean it and bandage it up—and just so you know, I am a whole lot smarter than you give me credit for!” he crossed his arms defensively, “And I’m not a skirt-chaser!”

"Not a skirt chaser, Mister Knox? And yet all day long you do nothing but flirt and ogle the ladies in Affairs. If you put half of that energy into your work, just think how much further you would be by now and in such a short time frame. I daresay, Ronald Knox, that you are a fine reaper…you just lack discipline." William argued back, ignoring the bit about his arm. He was in a foul mood, tired and quite frankly pissed at whoever was behind the incident in his office.

"I see nothing wrong with wanting to see people smile! And they have the most dull job, of course I’ll try to get them to smile—it doesn’t mean I want t’ get in their pants!" Ronald defended.

Sighing, William stopped and narrowed his eyes on the blond. “Are you saying, Mister Knox, that you are not interested in any of the ladies you pay attention to?”

"Of course I’m interested in them. Just not date-wise, no. We’re all just friends." Ronald shrugged, "They aren’t my type, anyways."

William, adjusted his glasses and started walking again. “You are the most confusing reaper, Mister Knox.”

The steps of the hotel now lay before them and William stopped and looked up to the front doors of the building. The hotel was busy. Mortals flowed in and out of the acclaimed hotel. He quickly glanced at the blond before climbing the staircase.

He reached the doors first and pulled one open, allowing a pair of ladies to step out from inside. He bowed and wished them a good day, then ushered Ronald in ahead of him.

"Pardon me, we would like two rooms for two nights." Will requested as he smiled pleasantly at the desk attendant, in the lobby. The man was a short, dark-haired gentleman and he wore a matching moustache above his top lip.

"Nh, nope, no good." The man said, flipping through his book, "We’re booked—almost. we only have one room, sir."

Ronald snickered, “Then we’ll take one room.” he looked at William and grinned, “I promise no parties in the room, Senpai.”

William glared at Ronald, then smiled back at the man behind the desk. “Surely you must be mistaken? There is no way we can room together.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing in the process. “At least, please tell me, there are two beds in the room?”

"Might be." The man shrugged, taking the last key off the wall of hooks behind him, "I’m filling in fer my brother-in-law… ‘e’s sick this week. ‘e owns the place. I just book the rooms. Sign ‘ere please." he pointed to the book and Ronald took the pen, dipping it in the inkwell before signing his name.

"Don’t look so disappointed. What choice do we have?" he set the pen down and counted out what they needed for the room and handed it over in exchange for the key which had their room number written on a tag attached to it. "I don’t bite, Willie."

"Don’t call me ‘Willie’, Mister Knox," Will all but growled as he headed for the staircase leading to the upper floors of the hotel.

Ronald shrugged and hurried after him, “You need to loosen up a bit,” he suggested. “I think that glass shard is pinching your stress nerves even tighter. Room two-ten, by the way.”

---

 

"Eric, you’re driving awfully fast," scolded Alan as his partner’s golden sports car sped through a traffic light and peeled rubber around a corner. The younger reaper was gripping the sides of his seat with white-knuckled hands, and he’d gone pale with alarm. Eric was an excellent driver and he liked to do racing courses now and then, but he’d never driven this aggressively in the city, with Alan in the car.

The Scotsman glanced in his rearview mirror again, as if checking to be sure there was no pursuit. “Sorry Al. I’ve go’ mah reasons.”

"M-mind telling me what those reasons are?" Alan swallowed as they approached an intersection. "Red light. Eric, there’s a red light ahead!”

Eric didn’t slow down. He switched lanes upon seeing the van up ahead of him so that he’d have no obstacles. “‘S fine, Alan. I know these lights. It’ll change.”

"Oh Death help us," whined the brunet, squeezing his eyes shut.

The light did indeed change to green, mere seconds before Eric drove through it. Alan’s eyes popped open and he compressed his lips, giving his blond companion a stern glare. “Eric Cameron Slingby, if you don’t stop this vehicle I swear I’ll put in for a transfer to another partner!”

Eric glanced at him and grimaced, knowing better than to brush off the threat. He obligingly slowed down, but he didn’t pull over. “Jus’ wait ‘till we get ou’ of the central iris. Trust me, Alan.”

The layout of the London Shinigami metropolis was in concentric circles, the streets and buildings laid out like a big wheel. It was designed to represent an eye, and their were six sectors in all referred to as irises. The “pupil” of the great city was where Dispatch Headquarters and the courthouse were located, and the Great Library was the only building off by itself, separate from the sprawling city on an island a short distance from the ocean shoreline.  

"I want to know what’s going on!"

The bigger man clenched his jaw and looked ahead, the dying rays of sunlight flashing on his blue-tinted glasses. “I cannae tell ya, but I’m doin’ this fer yer own good.”

"What, trying to give me a heart attack?" persisted Alan. He felt a warning tightness in his chest; not from a heart attack, but from the curse that he’d contracted due to his own sympathy for his reaping targets. He took a few deep, slow breaths until it ebbed, and he sighed in relief that it didn’t turn into another full-blown attack.

Eric gave him a guilty look, and he reached out to lay one big, tanned hand over Alan’s knee. “Sorry fer scarin’ ya.”

Alan looked down at the hand on his knee and he flushed a little, his pale, sculpted features betraying a mixture of confusion and excitement as the simple touch made a thrill go through him. It wasn’t easy to stay angry with him. He’d always found his partner attractive, with his wavy blond hair, strong build and handsome features. Then there was that accent…it made Alan melt inside.

He couldn’t think of anything to say, and he lamented the loss of Eric’s touch when he took his hand off his knee to shift down. They pulled up at one of the small parks in the fourth iris after a while—the one a few blocks from Alan’s apartment—and Eric sighed and twisted in the driver’s seat to look at him full-on.

"I wish I could explain everythin’ tae ya, sweetheart, but there’s no time fer it. Ya need tae vanish fer a while, understand?"

No, he didn’t understand…not one bit. “But—”

"Here." Eric dug out his wallet and fished out several hundred dollar notes of Shinigami cash. "Take this. Go pack some things an’ get a hotel somewhere ou’ of tha city. Ditch yer cellphone an’ get ano’er one, too. Call me on it so I can put tha number in ma contacts under some bogus name. I’ll contact ya when it’s safe again. Dinnae call anyone else, nor trust ‘em."

"Safe from what?" Wide-eyed, Alan didn’t move to take the money. "I have a right to know what kind of danger you’re trying to protect me from!"

"I’ll explain it all later," insisted Eric. Alan gasped as he rolled up the bills and shoved them in his pants pocket without warning. "Jus’ trust me. Ya know I’d ne’er put ye in harm’s way."

"But it sounds like you’re putting yourself in harms way…or you’re high on something.”

Eric smirked. “I’m totally clean an’ sober. Believe me, I wish it were o’erwise righ’ about now.”

The only thing more confusing than this situation was the term of endearment his partner had used on him when he’d put his hand on his knee. To make it even worse, Eric cupped the back of his head and closed in for a kiss. Alan was too stunned to do anything more than sit there like a ball-joint-doll at first, and then the Scotsman’s tongue slid past his parted lips into his mouth, and the brunet closed his eyes and whimpered. Alan grabbed hold of the other reaper’s blazer and returned the caresses of his tongue, feeling like liquid heat was spreading through his whole body.

It lasted for a few moments, until Alan was weak in the knees and blushing with passion. Eric pulled away and stared at him with love in his eyes that he’d kept concealed during their partnership, until now.

"Go on now, love," murmured the blond. "Do as I said an’ stay safe."

He unbuckled Alan’s seatbelt and he reached across him to open the door for him. Now thoroughly bewildered, the younger reaper slowly got out of the vehicle. He immediately regretted doing so when Eric shut and locked the door and then pulled out of the parking space to leave.

"Eric," called Alan helplessly. "Eric! Stop! I still don’t…"

The golden sportscar drove away, the color of it reminding Alan of its driver’s thick mane of hair. “…understand,” sighed Alan. He started to walk to his apartment. Thankfully his car was there, since Eric picked him up for work this morning. It was all so surreal, and Alan wondered who he could have angered enough to want him dead. He could only assume that was the case. Feeling more alone than ever, the brunet traversed the streets with his head down, his hand in his pocket cupping the roll of money given to him.

"Call me ‘sweetheart’, kiss me and drive off," mumbled Alan to himself. "You're...crazy…"

He couldn’t even bring himself to think up a derogatory word for his partner. Eric was truly afraid for him, and confused though he was, Alan did trust him. He just hoped the man would eventually explain to him why he had to hide away.

---

 

A young woman with flowing brown hair and long legs walked into Dispatch Headquarters just after the sun went down. She wore tall red heels with ruby studded skulls on the back of them, a knee-length black skirt that split up the right side and a lacy red spaghetti-strap top with a gossamer black, long-sleeved shirt over it. Her red glasses complimented her footwear, also decorated with little skulls. She sauntered in with purpose in her green-gold eyes, and she blew a kiss to one of the security guards when he eyed her with appreciation in passing. Chuckling at the flustered look on the man’s face, she considered flirting further with him and seeing if she could get a gentleman’s company for the night.

Alas though…he was with them. He wouldn’t be working in this building for much longer—unless he did the sensible thing like she had. She went to the elevators and pulled out her phone as she got in to ascend to the upper floors. Checking the text she’d received earlier, she sighed.

"Oh Will…if only there could have been another way."

The news that he’d escaped and managed to vanish just an hour ago didn’t exactly sit wrong with her, though. Apparently Ronald Knox had been with him, and now both were at large. “Not the best start to a corporate take-over,” she murmured. But at least Spears was alive. If anyone was going to reap that man, it would be her.

The elevator stopped halfway to her destination, and a familiar, handsome Scottish reaper was waiting on the other side. “Goin’ up, Miss?” asked Eric with one of those flirty little smiles he couldn’t seem to help.

She giggled. He didn’t recognize her. “Why yes I am, Officer Slingby. Please, join me.”

"Dinnae mind if I do." He stepped inside and he started to select his floor, but stopped when he saw the button that was already lit up. "What do ya know; we’re goin’ tae tha same floor."

"Of course we are, darling." The woman’s smile altered, her straight white teeth drawing into shark-toothed points. The female form melted away to reveal the slim, graceful build of an androgynous one—physiologically male. The brown shade of hair brightened, the color seeming to slide off of it to be replaced by a vivid red shade not generally found in nature.

Eric smirked. “Up tae yer tricks again, aye?”

Grell laughed and leaned back against the support bar. “At least they appreciate my tricks and allow me to put them to good use. It was so easy to get in close to my target and be rid of him. Where is Alan?”

Eric shrugged. “Went home early. Said he wasnae feelin’ too hot.”

"Hmm, poor thing. Well, he has his handsome lion to take care of him, doesn’t he?" Grell winked at the taller reaper. He genuinely liked Alan. Unlike certain other agents, he never made him feel like a freak or a failure.

"It’s no’ like tha’ wi’ us," insisted Eric with a frown.

"I was merely stating a fact. I never said you were lovers—though I could hardly blame him if he ever decided to change that." Grell let his gaze travel over Eric’s pleasing form briefly. "How did your assignment go?"

"I took care of it," answered Eric shortly. "It was done by noon."

"You’re letting it get to you," observed Grell slyly. "Remember, it’s for the greater good. Your sweet little partner that you are so passionately denying having the hots for may survive the Thorns yet, if you just do what they ask of you. Isn’t that worth getting rid of a few pesky obstacles?"

Eric glanced at him. “Including William?”

Grell sighed. “William was to be detained, not killed…and you needn’t worry about that now. He escaped tonight with Ronnie.”

Eric frowned. “What d’ya mean, ‘escaped’? They weren’t s’posed tae move in on tha man ‘till tha other execs were replaced an’ disguised.”

Grell shrugged. “Well, it seems Willykins found a file he wasn’t meant to see, and when the stubborn man tried to decrypt it, the failsafe was set off and our friends were alerted to it. Unfortunately, the tear gas failed to subdue him in time to be collected. He and Ronnie broke one of the windows in his office and jumped out, if you can believe that!”

The Scotsman’s brows shot up. “That’s a helluva fall. Are ye tellin’ me they couldnae catch ‘em a’fore they could recover?”

"I don’t know exactly what happened after that," answered Grell. "All I was told is that the two of them managed to vanish and they’re trying to keep things quiet while they send covert agents looking for them."

"The boss fallin’ forty stories tae land in tha street is a thing people would notice," reasoned Eric.

"Not necessarily. He chose the window overlooking the alleyway, apparently."

"Ah." Eric nodded. "Smart. They coulda’ jumped o’er to tha next building an’ shimmied their way down, withou’ attractin’ a lot of attention."

Grell spread his hands. “Who knows? All I know is they might not be so willing to simply capture and imprison him now.”

"An’ how do ya know they really meant tae do tha’ in tha first place?"

Grell looked at him, slightly disconcerted. “Because those were my terms when I signed on.”

"Mm-hmm. And Ronnie? He was yer trainee."

"He was part of the deal," Grell insisted. "And so far they’ve given me no reason to believe they won’t keep their end of the bargain."

Eric looked at the glowing numbers over the door as they lit up with each floor. “Hope yer right abou’ tha’.”

Grell looked at his companion’s profile. “You do know they’re going to want to bring Alan into this, now that the ball is dropping.”

The Scotsman’s jaw tightened. “Aye. I know.”

---

 

He and Grell made it to their floor and Eric waited for the crimson reaper to step out before following. He kept his expression nonchalant and his stance loose as he strolled into their acting superior’s office with his companion to give his report. He closed the door behind him and locked it before nodding at the refined man of middle-aged appearance with silver streaks in his brown hair. “My target’s taken care of, Mr…Anderson.”

Lawrence Anderson threaded his fingers together atop his glass desk. “Well done. And you, Sutcliff?” He looked to Grell.

Grell flopped down in the chair across from the glass desk, crossing one leg over the other. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a nail file. Briefly he closed his eyes, before looking back up at the older reaper. “I did what was asked of me. You, however, promised that William would not be harmed and now rumor has it he and Ronald Knox are on the run. There is also a rather impressive price put on their heads.”

Blowing a bubble from the gum he was presently chewing, Grell began to file his nails. “I don’t take kindly to being double-crossed. If you want my cooperation and for me to continue doing your dirty work, Anderson… I suggest you call off the bounty.”

"The bounty is for them to be brought in," assured Father Anderson. "I have no issues with putting word out with heavy emphasis on the ‘alive’ portion of that, however. Now, I think we should…excuse me Mr. Slingby, but there is no smoking allowed here."

Eric continued to light up his slim clove cigar with a shrug. He leaned over the elder’s desk and blew a smoke ring at him. “Yeah? But ya smoke yer pipe in here all th’ time, Pops…or didja forget tha’ little fact?”

Anderson compressed his lips with annoyance. “Don’t push it…either of you. Sutcliff, do stop popping that gum.”

Eric smirked as the redhead succinctly blew a big bubble and popped it. He stepped back and took another drag.

"Ya used tae give Grell bubble gum all th’ time too, sir. Yer memory needs some refreshers."

Grell giggled in his head as he watched the way Eric got under the older reaper’s skin. Deliberately, he blew an even larger bubble and popped it. “Don’t press me. I am here for one reason and one reason only. I don’t give a flying fuck about your cause. I just want to make sure my friends are safe. You keep them safe and I’ll do anything you ask of me.” He narrowed his eyes on Anderson. “Got it?”

Mr. Anderson cleared his throat. “At any rate, We need to discuss your partner. I believe it’s time for Humphries to be brought into it.”

Eric’s expression hardened slightly, but he relaxed again and shrugged. “Figured as much.”

"You stand the greatest chance of convincing him, Slingby. He looks up to you. It’s time for you to use that influence to bring him into the fold. What are his current whereabouts?"

Eric glanced out the window absently. “Went home, last I saw him. He said he wasnae feelin’ too hot, so he clocked ou’ an’ took a cab.”

"Then I suggest you pay him a visit and have a discussion with him, when you leave this building for the evening. You are both dismissed. Get out of my office."

Eric snorted at his use of words, and he gave Grell’s shoulder a warning squeeze when it looked as though the redhead might explode at that last bit. “Happy tae oblige. Come on, Grell. Smells like tuna in here, anyways.” 

Grell stood and glared at Lawrence, his top lip curled in disgust. “Don’t cross me, Anderson. I am warning you.”

He turned to Eric and nodded. “I agree it does reek of tuna in here…dead tuna, and I don’t care to smell rotten fish. Lets go. I need to get some fresh air.”

Eric nodded in agreement and opened the door for them both. When they were outside in the hall, he waved at the redhead. “See ya later, Grell. I’m goin’ tae check on Alan.”

As soon as he got to his own office floor, Eric went into said office and pulled out his phone to check for any messages he might have missed. He’d put his phone on silence before going to Anderson’s office, because he didn’t want to chance Alan calling him while in the presence of others and having to speak in code in front of them.

There was nothing. Nothing except a text giving him his next target. Eric sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of one of his windows, looking out at the darkening skyline.

~Come on, Al. Don’ make me have tae go o’er there before I know yer out an’ gone. Cannae risk ‘em followin’ me tae keep tabs an’ find ya still there.~

He kept his thoughts to himself, not even daring to speak them aloud in his own office. There were eyes and ears everywhere, at all times. He wasn’t even sure he could trust Grell not to spill the beans if he confided in him. The redhead wanted to keep William and Ronald alive, sure…but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn Alan in if it furthered his ambiguous goals. There was only one reaper alive out there that Eric knew he could trust completely now…and he’d betrayed him and their organization with his own actions.

---

 

He knew they were coming. He knew why. The whispers of the dead told him far more than the harsh voices of the living, and Undertaker was more than ready to give them a proper reception. He waited patiently in his coffin as he heard the door to his shop creak open, followed by the sound of the bell. Suppressing a snicker, he listened to the Dispatch agents speak to one another as they began to look around the mortuary.

"I’m not sure I believe it," one of them said. "If the ancient one can raise the dead, why hasn’t he done anything with them yet? What’s the purpose?"

"He’s a mad-man," answered another voice in disgust. "He doesn’t need a reason.”

Someone else said something in German and another reaper answered in the same language. Undertaker frowned in thought at that. It wasn’t unheard of for London Dispatch to have agents transferred from other branches when they were really low on staff, but they generally only sent them out on reaping assignments if they couldn’t speak English. He heard someone speak in Finnish next, and his brows went up. That language he could understand—though it had been so long since he’d spoken it he was somewhat rusty.

They wanted to recruit him. He’d been a bit off on his original assumption. He thought they were coming to try and arrest him, and perhaps they still intended to do that for the purpose of coercing him back into the fold, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. Either way, they weren’t welcome. He was curious as to why they had two Germans and a Finn with them, though.

"Undertaker," called one of them in a British accent, "are you in here? My name is Loren Ferguson, and I am an officer of Dispatch. Please come out so that we may speak on an important matter."

The ancient reaper smiled. He had no intention of coming out to greet them, but he had some…friends…that would. He closed his eyes and worked his dark will, calling silently to his sleeping children closed up in the other coffins in the shop. The lids creaked open in unison, and one of the German reapers spat out a surprised inquiry.

“Was ist das?”

The mortician muffled a snicker behind his sleeve as the sounds of dead throats moaning filled the room, and a scuffle broke out.

"It’s not stopping!" hollered the one named Ferguson.

~Of course it’s not stopping, fool boy,~ thought the mortician with amusement. ~The dead aren’t so easily reaped as th’ living.~

Undertaker wished he had a peep-hole to see what was going on, but his imagination was painting a lovely picture from the ruckus alone. A gun went off—which actually startled him a bit because he’d never heard of a Dispatch agent using such a weapon as a reaping tool—and there were curses in three different languages. One of the reapers screamed in pain, and there was the sound of something heavy thumping on the floor.

Deciding it was time for the final act, Undertaker called forth some other little friends from the bowels of the catacombs beneath his shop. A hidden panel opened up in the wall of his basement, and hundreds of bats came out. They flew through the corridor leading into the shop from the back, the flap of their wings and shrieks almost deafening. The frantic voices of the uninvited reapers grew louder as they now had the flying mammals to deal with.

"It’s in my hair! Get it out!"

Undertaker couldn’t contain his laughter now, but the commotion happening outside his coffin was loud enough to cover it up.

“Unohda tätä!” cried the Finnish reaper, obviously having his fill of the entire affair. His companions must have agreed with him even if they couldn’t understand his words. The sound of their footsteps hastily retreating came next, followed by the slam of the door.

Undertaker finally stepped out of his coffin and he banished his winged friends with a wave of his hands. They flocked together in an orderly fashion and flew back to where they came from. “Matilda,” warned the mortician when the blond female doll in the ragged wedding gown tried to shuffle out the door after the reapers. She stopped at the sound of her master’s voice and turned jerkily to regard him. Undertaker shook his head. “Not now, darlin’. That goes for the rest of you. We can’t have you seen on the streets now, can we?”

The dolls went still, complying with his command. Undertaker looked at the puddles of blood on his floor and he shrugged. He noticed that Matilda was missing an arm and he found it lying near a coffin, twitching. “Oh dear…look at what they did t’ your poor arm. Hrm, well that’s easily enough fixed. Matilda love, go into the lab and lie down on the table. Henry, spit that ear out of your mouth or swallow it. I thought I told you not to play with your food.”

The farmer doll that had evidently bitten off one of the agent’s ears chewed it sloppily and swallowed it. Undertaker nodded and he stepped aside to allow Matilda past. “Now all of you—except for her—retire to your coffins again, yeah?”

They moaned in accord and shuffled off to the individual caskets assigned to them. Undertaker walked to his front door, grabbing his hat off the rack near it and cramming it on before stepping outside to look for the intruders. He was just in time to see all five of them running through a portal one of them had created to the Shinigami realm. One of them had his hand clamped over the bloody hole where his ear had been.

Undertaker grinned mischievously and tipped his hat. “Toodles, gents. Feel free to drop by again any time.”

With a cackle of glee, the ancient reaper retreated back into his shop and locked the door.

---

-To be continued