This Mortal Coil

Summary: Fantasy AU. In a world full of magic and gods, a man makes a deal with Death: in exchange for immortality, he will kill those that have been brought back via necromancy. But when he meets a beautiful sorceress/healer, he suddenly finds himself willing to defy everything: even the gods.

Characters: Nostalgia Critic, Linkara, Cinema Snob, Spoony, O/Cs, various cast members of Channel Awesome as the story progresses.

Warnings: Blanket R for violence, sex, and cursing

Pairing: Critic/OC, Linkara/Spoony/Insano

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognized characters.

Word Count: 1,186

Chapter One: A Deal is Struck

The city-state of Awesomia could be described in one word: fetid. The charming smell of the polluted river combined with the unwashed stench of the citizens was an aroma that could make even the strongest man's eyes water. The city itself was falling into disrepair, and every building slanted towards the Channel river at incredibly steep angles. Why they hadn't fallen in was due to one thing: Magic.

Awesomia was one of the Centers of the magical world, and on its streets gods, psychopomps, mages, and monsters rubbed shoulders with the ordinary citizens. It was a somewhat uneasy coexistence, but one people accepted.

Magic tended to run in families, and the more powerful mages had numerous children, hoping to pass their knowledge and skills on to their descendants. Those that could afford it sent their children away to the neighboring state of Haganstan to be taught by the sorcerer-goddess Diamanda.

In one particularly run down building, a man sat in a dusty room with a half empty whiskey bottle in one hand and a gun in the other. He was a tall, pale man just starting to go bald, and his dark hair was plastered to his skull with sweat. He was staring at a picture on the table. It showed him with his arms around two other men-obviously his brothers. One was older, with a friendly, open face and wearing a paperboy's hat. The other was the spitting image of the man in the room, save for the wicked smile on his face.

He set down his bottle and pulled off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with one hand as memories welled up. It had been years since he had seen either Robert or Gerrick. Doug Walker sighed as he recalled the bitter argument his twin had had with their older brother. Gerrick-or 'Guy', as everyone called him, had been delving more and more into the Black Arts, and Rob had gone ballistic. Their father had been a White Magic user, and had passed on his knowledge to his sons. Guy had found it all deadly dull, and begun to read up on some darker spells, which lead to both father and brother disowning him. Doug had tried to keep the peace between his brothers, but being the middle child(Guy was three hours younger than him), he was usually ignored, and when the arguments got particularly bad, the magic being blown around the room sent him diving for cover.

Three days ago, Doug had heard rumors that Rob had been killed in a Magic Duel. Frantic inquiries turned up nothing, and Doug fell into a deep despair. He had been sitting in the room for hours, alternating between drinking and staring down at the gun barrel, trying to work up the courage to place it in his mouth and pull the trigger.

"It would be a damn waste of time, if you ask me."

Doug jumped ten feet in the air at the deep voice behind him. He whirled, pointing his gun at the man that had appeared in the room. He was short, with slicked-back black hair, wearing a black suit and glasses. His feet were bare. The man smirked at the gun. "I really hope you don't intend to try to shoot me. It won't go well for you, Doug."

"OK, how the fuck did you get in here? I sealed the door with a locking spell. And how the fuck do you know my name?!"

The man laughed, leaning against the wall. "There isn't a lock made that can keep me out. As to how I know your name, I've had my eyes on you for a long time. I can tell you that Rob is alive. He hasn't met me yet."

Doug flew out of his chair and advanced on the man, placing the gun against his temple. "Start making sense, or I ventilate you."

The man sighed and batted the gun away. "Please, use your head for once. If you Look, you should be able to figure out who I am pretty fucking quickly."

Doug winced, not wanting to use his Sight. He took off his glasses and looked into the other man's eyes. Two seconds later, he reeled back, collapsing in a heap on the floor, his entire body shaking. "Y...you...You're...D...D..."

"Death. The Grim Reaper, The Scyther, blah blah blah." Death knelt next to Doug. "I know I'm not what you expected."

"You...could say that. You look like a film snob. So what, are you here to watch me die?"

Death chuckled, settling himself into the dusty chair. "Hardly. I've come here to offer you a deal. As a mage's son, I'm sure you know about life spans and ways to expand them, right?"

"...Yes."

"OK, so here's the thing. I don't mind that so much. Hell, a mortal wants more time to fight and fuck on this Earth, more power to 'em, I say. It's when they start trying to muscle in on MY territory that I get pissed. The necromancers and the...things that they bring back. Vile fucking creatures. But since they've died once already, I can't touch them. That's where you come in."

Doug glared at him. "I'm not about to go up against Ghouls and Necromancers! I may have Magic in my blood, but even the most rank Necro could turn my insides to pudding with a wave of his hand, that is if the Ghoul left anything!"

Death sighed. "If I may continue. I'll gift you with Immortality-nothing will be able to kill you...at least not permanently. Grave injuries may take longer to recover from, but the only thing that will be able to permanently kill you is me. You'll stay the same age you are now, and be able to heal from any minor injuries."

"And in exchange...?"

Death smiled grimly. "In exchange, you will kill Ghouls and Necros. They're multiplying like rabbits."

Doug sighed. "What should I use to kill them? Ghouls are pretty resilient to magic and bullets."

Death held out his hand, and the gun flew out of Doug's grasp. He watched as Death passed his hand over the gun before handing it back. "There. Your gun can kill anything now, and if you ever lose it, it will come back to you. Also, you'll never run out of bullets. How's your aim?"

In answer, Doug pointed the gun at a knot in the door and pulled the trigger. A hole appeared a hairs-breath away from the knot. "It's decent." He pocketed the gun. "OK, Snob, you've got a deal. But I want something else. Tell me if Gerrick is still alive."

"Snob. I haven't had anyone call me that before. I like it. Your twin is alive...after a fashion. I can't tell you any more." Death grinned and vanished, leaving Doug alone once more. He looked at the gun, then at the whiskey.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"