Author's Note: Oh hai guys, long time no write! This one-shot was born from my niggling irritation at the fact that Death tried to take out Chicago. And if Harry Dresden was around, he would not just let that happen! So yeah there's this. I got a little reference-heavy at the end, props if you get them all! love you, more of my regulars out soon, but have this in the meantime!
The storm was just starting as I drove the Blue Beetle towards downtown Chicago. I was literally armed to the teeth; every bit of magical weaponry that I could find or make on short notice was jammed into a duffle bag on the passenger's seat, stuffed in a pocket of my duster, or draped about my person. My blasting rod and staff were propped up on top of the duffle, in easy reach if I needed them. I even had the holy sword Fidelacchius, just in case.
"Harry," Bob's voice sounded muffled through the cloth of the bag, where I had stashed him for safety. "This is the worst plan you have ever had, out of all the years that I have known you or worked for you. It is the second worst plan that anyone I have ever served has ever come up with."
"Oh, well, second-worst isn't that bad," I joked, keeping my voice light.
"The worst was Daedelus and his kid flying into the sun with wings made of wax and string," Bob answered flatly, ignoring my attempt at levity. Fine then.
"Look, we've faced things we shouldn't have been able to take on before, and come out alright. This time won't be any different." I kept my voice even and my eyes fixed on the road. Bob snorted. I always wondered how he did that without a nose.
"No Harry, you haven't. This isn't some Queen of the Unseelie we're talking about, or a scourge of vampires. This is Death, capital D, the horseman of the apocalypse. He's not a person he's a concept, a fundamental fact of nature. We can't beat this one." When I didn't respond, Bob added, "please Harry, let's just get out now while we can."
I ground my teeth, and wrenched the Beetle into a turn too sharply. The back wheels caught the curb and the car bounced, knocking my head into the ceiling. "What about everyone else Bob?" I snapped. "What about the million people who live here? The ones I can't get out in time?" Outside the wind was picking up, and debris swirled across the road in front of me. Inside the car, it was silent. "This is my town Bob. I've protected it from vampires, werewolves, wizards, and God knows what else. I'm not going to abandon it, not for the apocalypse not if the devil himself came after it. If it's going down then it will damn well be over my dead body. Now stop arguing and tell me where the hell I'm going."
The zipper of the bag had come open at some point during the ride, and I could see one of Bob's orange eyelights watching me, unmoving. I don't know what he was looking for, or if he was just silently contemplating how he ended up in the hands of such an idiot, but finally he spoke.
"Harry Dresden." Bob sounded so solemn that I glanced over at him, startled. He was still watching me intently. "You are one of the greatest men I have ever known, and not a bad wizard either. It has been my privilege to be your friend. Turn left at the next light, he's in a pizza joint called Rinascita."
Bob's apparently heartfelt comments took me off guard, as did the abrupt subject change. Maneuvering expertly across two lanes of traffic in about five seconds, I took the turn. "He's in a pizzeria?"
"Hey, Chicago has the best pizza in the world Harry, it's a well-known fact." I smirked, but I was inwardly relieved that Bob was getting some of his sass back. Serious Bob scared me.
As we turned onto the last street, a wall of hailstones the size of golf balls swept over us, adding more dents to the Beetle's already bruised exterior. The hail was followed by sheets of rain, like some cosmic bathtub was being dumped on the city. Pedestrians were running for cover, and the sky had turned an eerie gray-green color, like before a tornado hits.
"That one, over on the corner," Bob yelled over the growing noise. I hit the brakes, shifted gears, and parallel parked the Blue Beetle neatly between a white Cadillac and a black Chevy. My car looked ridiculously colorful (and crappy) between the two classics, but aesthetics was not uppermost in my thoughts right now. Besides, the other cars were getting the same weather treatment as the Beetle, and I was pretty sure the Chevy's windows were slightly open.
Leaning over to the passenger seat, I grabbed my blasting rod and slipped it through the loop in my duster, then grabbed the staff and, after a moment's hesitation, Fidelacchius. I double checked all of my kinetic rings, my shield bracelet, and my mother's amulet, and then looked down at Bob. He was still watching me, and despite having no facial muscles to work with he managed to look concerned and proud at the same time. I took a deep breath.
"Bob, in the event that I don't return to the car before midnight tonight, you have my permission to leave your skull, find Ebenezer, and tell him what happened. Come back to the skull once you're done, he'll come find you. Is that clear?" Somehow, I managed to keep my voice from shaking. Bob just nodded his understanding, for once at a loss for snarky comebacks. It didn't make me feel any better.
Taking a deep breath, I closed the door of the Beetle and straightened up. The wind was almost gale-force now, pressing my duster against the back of my knees and forcing me into a stumbling walk as I moved up the street. On the corner ahead I saw the pizza place in question- one of the little hole in the wall joints that make the real good deep-dish pies. I thought it was a funny place to start the apocalypse from, but hey who was I to judge? Maybe Death liked a good pizza as much as the next person.
As I passed by the restaurant's front windows, I gulped. Through the rain-spattered panes I could see bodies everywhere, lying on the floor and propped up in booths, like the people had just dropped dead in the middle of everyday life. In retrospect, I figured that was exactly what had happened, and I clutched my staff tighter. At least I knew I was in the right spot.
As I was approaching the door, a movement on the other side caught my eye, and I paused, peering harder through the glass. The restaurant wasn't totally uninhabited after all- two men were sitting at a table in the middle of the room, and I thought I could make out a pizza on the table between them. Yeah, that's not creepy at all. One of them was wearing a bulky green jacket and sitting with his back to me, so I couldn't really see what he looked like, but it was the other man that caught my attention. he was wearing a neatly tailored black suit, and as I stared at him he lifted his eyes and met my gaze.
I can't really describe what happened next. You know how in the movies sometimes there will be an explosion, and the protagonist will pick himself up off the sidewalk in a daze? And the camera kind of tilts sideways, and there are bodies everywhere, but the explosion blew out his eardrums and so the whole rest of the scene happens in a vacuum of total silence? That was what it felt like, when Death looked me in the eye. It wasn't bravery that made me hold his gaze- it was insignificance. The whole weight of existence pressed down on me, and I felt like an ant that someone dropped the Parthenon on. I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing, and that I wouldn't have started again as long as he kept looking at me. A second later he dropped his gaze, and the moment passed. I stood by the door, gasping and shaking like a half-drowned man, like my life had literally just passed before my eyes. For a moment I wondered if it had.
Inside, I watched Death hold out a hand and drop something into the other man's hand, with an air of finality. The instant the object left his hand, the rain stopped and the wind died. I spun around, staring up into the sky, but the clouds were clearing away even faster than they had arrived. A single shaft of sunlight warmed the pavement, then another, and suddenly it was just another normal day in Chicago. When I turned back to the restaurant in disbelief, Death was gone. The man in green sat at the table for a moment, then stood slowly, as if he was burdened by some great and terrible knowledge, which only made sense in his position.
I hesitated, unsure what to do now. For whatever reason, it looked like Death had decided to take a holiday. I didn't want to screw that up, but I wanted answers. I was about to barge into the restaurant and demand some, but the door swung open before I could touch it.
"Harry Dresden, how… unexpected." Death's voice matched his gaze: calm and totally devoid of all life. I stood there, all thoughts of fighting gone from my mind. This thing could kill me with a touch, and there wouldn't be anything I could do about it. I had to be more careful now than ever in my life.
"Why am I unexpected? You came to my town and tried to take it out, and you didn't think I'd show up? Haven't you ever heard that 'Death be not proud' poem?" I literally slapped my hand over my mouth to make myself stop talking. Sometimes I really hate my razor-sharp wit. Death raised an eyebrow, and I was sure that I was about to be violently removed from life. Then he chuckled. Every hair on my body stood on end at the sound. He stopped laughing and looked down his thin nose at me.
"Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden," he said slowly, and he said it right, so that I felt it in my soul. "I was only surprised to see you here because our appointment by the lake isn't for another two years. Goodbye Harry." Death stepped past me and onto the street, black cane tapping on the pavement.
I watched with a sort of numb disbelief as Death crossed the street and slipped into the white Cadillac parked behind the Beetle. As he drove past, I swore I could hear Blue Oyster Cult drifting through the window.
"Harry?" I turned to see Murphy walking up the street towards me, confusion on her face. "What are you doing way out here?" She stopped in front of me, and glanced over my battle gear. "What's going on? Did that storm have anything to do with you?"
"No." I answered flatly. "That wasn't me, and I really don't want to talk about it." Murphy continued to stare, so I shrugged. "Look, it's been a weird day. Want to go get food?"
She continued to give me a skeptical look, but shrugged. "Pizza?" She suggested.
"God no, we're going to Mac's. Get in the Beetle."