CALL FOR THE

GRIM REAPER


I

The Deal.


The carceral corridors were soggy, moist and filthy. The involved aisle was located on the third floor below ground of the responsible police station. Hence the unmanned prison jails were reserved for prospective inmates, whose detention periods lasted for several decades, at least. It saved the personnel work and time of moving detainees from jail to jail. Besides, no one wanted to step foot in this place but rats, anyways. The third floor was the dirty secret of the police station. The taboo topic among the staff.

The novice of the staff attempted to keep a neutral expression with intensely volition to not to turn his nose up in disgust. The corridor smelled like dried sweat, urine and other excrements he couldn´t identify. It was no wonder that his older colleagues patted his back while giving him insidious smiles after the novice reported them proudly on the special task he was given.

Bastards, he thought.

The ground under his shoes was slippery. About every thirty metres did he have to halt to unlock the high mesh doors that divided the corridor into smaller parts. After that, he would go through, turn around and lock the door to continue his way to the next mesh doors. In between those doors the jails were lined up periodically. They formed a zig-zag-pattern, since two cells on each side never faced each other. It prevented the inmates making contacts. It did not mean that the measure was necessary at the moment. The jail cells weren´t occupied, anyways.

Except for one.

A feeling of embarrassing relief came over the novice when he finally caught sight of the end of the aisle. It was hard to see, because the cellar lights created only dim lights or were defective for the most part. In the originating gleam of light everything seemed grey. Hollywood would have been proud of owning such a place.

He could have sworn he picked up squeaking rat-sounds when the novice locked the last mesh door of the corridor. Either they greeted him or tried to shoo him away. He struggled to decide which thought of those two sounded more unpleasant. As he approached the steel doors of the jail – which were the old type with rails closely strung to each other thus allowing the prisoners and outsiders to look through between them – he asked himself who brought this one his daily food. If he was brought food daily.

The novice stopped for a short breath before taking a cautious step forward to peer inside by the rails.

It was the very first time that he encountered a dangerous criminal.

The novice stood at the margin by the rails. Only his head was standing sidewise when he checked the inside of the cell, his front faced the end-wall of the corridor. The inside was poorly arranged but that was nothing new. The novice´s curious and analysing look wandered from the cold and naked rails to the right corner in the back. There stood a less hygienic looking toilet, next to it hung a just as less hygienic looking wash basin. A grey plate hanging over the basin could be seen. It must have been an old mirror attached a long time ago. Its function was put off by the thick dust slice covering it.

There was nothing else to see on the right side of the cell. Reluctantly did the novice let his eyes wander to the left. In the left corner stood a primitive metal bed with a very thin mattress. A just as very thin blanket and a small pillow were neatly set on the left side of the bed, which was directed to the left wall. On the right side of the bed sat the reason to why the novice bothered to stroll down to this human-abandoned place.

Despite the long detention in this disgusting and barely eight square metres built cell, his physical condition was better beyond the relative one – being a prisoner. His shoulders were wide and stiff. To the amazement of the novice was the shirt he wore neither cracked nor pestered. Only the longstanding accumulated filth left dirty spots on his shirt. The same could be said about his trousers. His trained chest and abdominal muscles were clear to be seen through his unbuttoned shirt, since he didn't bother to wear an undershirt. Also, he didn´t own any shoes, at least the novice couldn´t find any. Despite his older age – visible through his skin wrinkles – his shoulder-length hair was jet-black. They were surprisingly well groomed. His face was clean-shaven.

Keeping a bent over position, he leaned his chin on his fisted hands. His elbows were rested on his upper legs. They were forming a perfect ninety-degree angle with his lower legs, making his naked feet touch the ground, flat and steady. With this composition and his eyelids closed in concentration, did he resemble a meditating boxer.

There was no better word than dangerous to describe this person.

However, the picture which was presented to the novice didn´t fit together. It wasn´t describable, nor understandable. It was like someone forced the puzzle-pieces of this picture to fit together. In the end, there was this view left, but the puzzle pieces had bends, cracks and were deformed nastily. They just didn´t fit. They were forced to hold their places and not to disobey. It must have felt painful for them. Yes, the word painful fit in this picture of the man next to dangerous, perfectly.

The novice was sure that if he ranked up and got the authorization, he would study the record of this person, thoroughly. Just out of curiosity.

"I´ve got good news for you", the novice said after a long silence. "You´re going to be set free tomorrow."

The novice waited for an answer, longer than necessary. But there was none. Even after two long minutes of patient silence. He spoke up again. This time, though, his voice sounded louder than before.

"I was sent here to tell you that. You´re granted to pack your things together, today." The novice felt stupid. The man obviously didn´t own anything more than the rags of clothes that clung to his skin. "You should also clean your cell today. It must be left in an appropriate state for future inmates who come here." The novice made a short, uncertain pause. He didn´t believe his own words. "Tomorrow morning at about eight am a colleague of mine will accompany you to the canteen for breakfast. After that, you can take a shower. Following that, you´ll have to sign a few documents and then you can greet your relatives in the waiting room for visitors." All the while the novice talked, the prisoner didn´t move once for only a centimetre. He looked like he couldn´t care any less that he will leave this hell-hole or if the world will end tomorrow.

The novice turned so he faced him with his full body now.

"Have you understood me? A nod is all enough." No reaction. "Can you understand me?" Nothing, again.

"You´re dead or what?", the novice joked with a slightly irritated voice. "Hey, man, at least tell me who I should call so someone can take you from here."

The man in the cell seemed unconcerned. He was motionless, like a rock. The novice fisted his hands. The other police men made fun of him well enough today, let alone sent him here in the first place. The novice wouldn´t accept another shitty treatment by this criminal.

"Hey, asshole!", the novice yelled way louder than before. Down there no one could hear him, anyway. Even if the rules said that police always had to treat criminals with respect, no matter the situation. It didn´t matter if the person was a killer or a pickpocket.

"I´ve went all the way down to this hell-hole to tell you that you can drag your damn ass out of here!" As there was still no reaction coming from the man in front of him, the novice began hitting the steel rails with his right fist. He yelled louder. "Do you hear me, you little piece of shit?!"

"Hn. Now you sound like a real cop."

The novice flinched and stiffened as he heard the voice of the prisoner for the first time.

The voice of the man sounded monotone and rough from all the lack of use in the last years. Also, he struggled to find the face muscles which produced the right sounds. He would have sounded weak and wimpy, if not for his strong, deep baritone. The fact of the matter is, this new situation made the novice more uncomfortable. The tone of the man wasn´t just intimidating, but also extremely serious. He was taking no joke. It didn´t matter how motionless the man sat there, the novice had to remember that this man was a dangerous criminal. They didn´t put him into the farthest corner of the police station for no reason.

The novice pulled himself together from his trance and stood straight and steady with a pulled out chest. "What do you want to know about being a police man? You were a criminal your whole life."

The man snorted, like a bull that prepared to attack the muleta of a matador. The novice himself was surprised how well this comparison fit him. Secretly, the novice was sure, that he didn´t want to be the matador or the muleta in this bull fight.

"A lifelong criminal …", the man murmured, more to himself than to the novice. The novice, though, didn´t like the amusement in the man´s whisper. Bastard. Delighting in his evil reputation. They should have given him lifelong detention. Who knows what he will wreak after tomorrow. But the novice didn´t have an influencing hand in this game. But should he come to know that this man will become relapsing, the novice would drag him back to prison with his own hands.

"Now give me a name already, so I can ask that person to come here to get you." This time it wasn´t a question, but an order.

The prisoner kept silent for a few moments. "I don´t have anyone."

The novice eyed the man for s short time, then grunted amused. "Don´t come the innocent to me. You have to have someone somewhere. Family, friends, business partners, colleagues. A dog?" The novice grinned at his own joke.

"If you intend to do something for me", the man began. His voice became clearer, the more he talked. "Then get me some old clothes and make sure that I´ll catch the next train for Konoha tomorrow."

The novice couldn´t believe the complacency of the man in front of him. Who did he think was he? What kind of place this was? A playground? Well, he decided to play with the wrong children.

"Bullshit. You´ll need to stay here for the coming three months, here in Oto. To be guarded. At least three months."

"I have my ways to get out of here."

"And what if, let´s say, I´ll snitch on you and tell my supervisor?"

"You won´t do that."

"Why not?"

"Because we´ll make a deal."

"Wha-"

The prisoner opened his eyes to look directly in the eyes of the novice. They were plain-black, just as his hair. His eyes were deep. And knowing.

Suddenly, he stood up and moved with slow, steady and august steps to the novice, like a lion in his very own cave. The novice retreated a step back, for safety. Cold sweat spread over his whole body. The increasing pulse of his heartbeat rumbled louder in his ears, which dulled the prisoner´s voice. However, the novice heard him clearly, since the prisoner owned a strange, penetrating undertone. Like the deep rumble coming from a strong throat of a lion.

The prisoner talked slowly and clearly, but not with a louder voice than he needed for the novice to hear and understand. But the novice didn´t fear his voice. He was scared of his seeing eyes. The novice felt naked in front of them, like an open book. There was nothing as terrifying as to know that your enemy knew everything about you and not vice versa.

"Every single day you work here, your so-called colleagues slag you. They offend you, pat your back with the same force as if they were hitting you. They insult your family, your sister, your mother. They don´t welcome you here because you are a loser to them. A good-for-nothing. A shit-ass. A boot-licker. The wannabe newbie."

The dark man arrived in the middle of the cell. A vast amount of healed scars could be seen on his chest and abdomen now, along with bumps and other old injuries through the dim light. His look was grim as if he was angry at the whole universe. The same thing could be said about the novice´s face. His hands turned to fists, his expression strained and stiff in fury.

"It happens although you work your ass off. Every damn day. While the others sit on their asses all day, eating donuts like the pigs they are and let you do their dirty jobs. That´s why you´re here. No one wanted to come down here, that´s why they sent you." The prisoner stood directly in front of the novice, clutching at the rails with his bear hands. Suddenly, his head collided with the rails. His face was divided in two by a rail with two other ones next to his eyes. He bent down a little to hold his eyes at the same level as those of the novice. Then he suddenly opened his eyes, fast. The novice flinched at this sight.

"Am I right?"

The novice failed to do anything else than nodding in fear and hate. He hated himself for that. He hated everything and everyone at the moment. The prisoner grinned. It looked terrible.

"Good. Here´s the deal. You´ll book the next train to Konoha that leaves off at about midnight time. Under the name of Taka Hebi. Then you´ll meet me at the bus station by the big casino at exactly nineteen pm. I´ll hand a wanted criminal over to you there. If you bring him to your supervisor, you´ll rank up. I´ll take the train to Konoha and you won´t waste your time licking asses. No one will know of this. Deal?"

The novice needed some thinking time before answering. His whole body trembled in shock. "You … You´re insane. This is crazy! They will know that you helped me. Someone will see us together. Then I´ll go to jail, too. If you don´t … kill me before that." His voice sounded plainly weak, cracked and resembled barely a whisper. He didn´t like it at all. He was a police man, damnit! And there stood thick, hard steel rails between them!

"Tch." The prisoner retreated his head off the rails and stood straight, but he didn´t let go of them. He was taller than the novice, a little under two metres. The novice felt only tinier, weaker then before.

"You´re not worth the kill. Also, the cops will get suspicious if they find your corpse, because we met here one day before. The trouble would be mine then." He held his hand beyond the rails in a gesture that indicated a handshake.

"Deal?" The voice of the prisoner sounded demanding, mandatory.

The novice weighed the possibilities. If he was obedient to the stranger, his whole effort in his apprenticeship wouldn´t have any meaning. If he collaborated with the criminal, he would become his accomplice, worse, a criminal himself. His pride and honour as a police man wouldn´t allow him to do it.

But still …

It wasn´t a bad offer. The man did his stretch in prison anyways, and he wouldn´t do anything stupid that would put him in this jail again. Or in one of Konoha´s, whatever he is looking for there. Furthermore, some other criminal would settle down here, a further triumph of justice. It would help him – like the prisoner already said – to rank up, too…

Still, he was a dangerous criminal … He couldn´t bring himself to work with such a devil, could he? But …. As a police man?

"I see. The offer isn´t enough."

The man closed his eyes and as he opened them again, he suddenly pulled forward with his hand and put a stranglehold on the novice. He pulled him up while tightening his hold. He was cautious enough to let pieces of the novice´s collar slip in between his hand and the police man´s throat to prevent any marks to pop up. The novice fidgeted and struggled in the air, trying to catch a breath and freeing his throat from the man´s hold helplessly, his eyes being at the same level as with the one´s of the man in front of him.

"If you don´t do as I command", the prisoner continued. His voice lacked any glamour of kindness. It only sounded serious. And bitter. "I´ll kill you after a maximum of five months. If not before." He whispered his threats from here. They didn´t sound less dangerous then, quite the opposite. "I´ll make you look so bad that everything you can feel is pain. In your whole body. I´ll crush you, cut you, rip a few things out of you, here and there." The prisoner pulled the head of the novice closer to the rails so that they touched. "Then I´ll feed animals with you." The novice began to whimper and grunt. "Rats. Alive."

The novice nodded lightly. As the prisoner didn´t let go, the nodding became vehement, making the novice´s forehead banging the rails. Before he could hurt himself for injuries to be seen, the prisoner let him fall to the ground.

"Tell your friends. I´ll skip breakfast tomorrow. I don´t want paparazzi here, anyone. That´s why I´ll be out early. And the most important of all…" The prisoner kneeled down to look directly at the half lying form of the novice. He held his throat and tried to maintain his breathing. "The train to Konoha. About midnight. Taka Hebi." The prisoner said the name again, slowly. He wanted the novice to remember correctly. But he knew he would do anyway. The memories in fear were the ones you remembered best. "Meet me at nineteen pm. At the bus station by the big casino. Don´t forget to bring some dark clothes for me, black. And for you. We´ll have business tomorrow."

The novice looked at the prisoner with teary eyes while nodding all the time, even after the prisoner stopped talking. Fear was written on his face. He only wanted to go away, away away!

The prisoner spared him a last, cold glance. "Deal. Now piss off", he hissed.

And the novice ran. All the way running to the stairs, his timid, erratic breathing and groaning could be heard. He jolted a few times, when he heard some rat sounds. As the prisoner heard a loud banging sound, he knew the novice closed the last steel door of the corridor.

Damned greenhorn.

The prisoner stood up, stretched his arms and cracked his neck. He sat in the same meditating position when the novice first saw him. He sat there like that every day. For hours. Staying silent. Thinking.

Exactly twenty years before, minus a few hours, he was brought here. He was convicted by a thoroughly corrupted court. They called him a dangerous criminal. Murderer. Killer. Traitor. Liar. He didn´t have any chance to defend himself, but he still did.

Through the first five years, he tried to fight against this allegations. He believed then, that he would win. When he was younger, he had a determination of steel. He hoped.

The next five years, he spent surviving, fighting. There were no ambitions left. The only relevant essence for him, was to stay alive. He learned in these five years what it really meant to feel lonely. To have no one, except for yourself.

In the past ten years, he waited for the grim reaper. He was ten years too late, already. He finished his life, and he was sure that the grim reaper was his fate. He would call him. And he would come.

But he didn´t.

Twenty years passed. The grim reaper hasn´t come, although he was called many times. Not only by one prisoner. By all the other prisoners, too, who knew him like this one did.

He would continue calling for him. Even after leaving prison. Not only that. He would look for him. Search for him. He had the chance to, once he got out of here.

And if he called for him and he came. Or he found him.

Then he would take his revenge.


F I N.


Well, dear friends. Heh. I feel like I finished a masterpiece.

So, this comes out when I first write in a native language and translate it in English. I should have done that with my other fics as well. I feel dumb. Also, if you find any grammar or spelling mistakes, anything, please feel free to contact me.

Let this be a teaser for a story to come. I have the story line planned, but there are missing a lot of branches. But I´m going to tend to them. Especially after I finished FACOC. (But before that I really need to try to prevent myself from getting side tracked, because I need to learn for exams *cries*)

It may take a while until I will update again. Like, a long while. But I´ll come back if fate will allow me.

Until then,

Beat.