A/N: Welcome, one and all, to Worse. Reaper. EVER., my first fanfiction on this site, and thank you for clicking! Welcome to a story of murders, mystery, darkness, a couple pots of coffee, a whole lot of overtime and, as the title suggests, possibly the worse grim reaper the Death God Dispatch Society has ever seen. I'm extremely excited for this and I hope you enjoy. As a disclaimer, I'm not cool enough to own the canon characters. That honor is Yana Toboso's.

And with that, let our tale begin~!

William T. Spears was, plain and simple, not amused.

I guess he never was, but maybe some days more so than others...and if I had to, I'd put it as a 'not amused more so then others' kind of day.

But I couldn't blame him.

I gave a squeamish smile, wiping thick, black char off of my right cheekbone with a knuckle and tucking my other hand behind my back. "Hi."

My response was a glare.

No? Okay, better try again. "I...I, uh, can explain..."

His eyes flickered from mine, to the house on fire, slowly burning to the ground, collapsing in on itself behind me, back to me, back to the bonfire dwelling. "I'm eager to hear it."

"Right! So, there's this gunpowder in the house, right? And there's this candle, like, an inch away from it. I mean who does that? And I was running...and, um, may have tripped...and-"

"You're saying this was an accident?"

Yes! That was 99.9 percent true, it was an accident. But if he asked me if I regretted my mistake and I said yes I'd be lying. "Yes sir. ...Oh, come on, it's not like there was anyone still alive in there!"

He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and cradling his elbow in his palm. "That's not the point. We are to leave no evidence of our past presence except for a corpse, not setting the house ablaze. Do you understand this has been your fourth 'accident' on collection runs? In order to be successful at your task you must learn to keep yourself under control. Restrained."

"I tried that once. Ever so dull."

"It's not about dull, it's about precision and completion. It is etched into the sacred code of the death god we must abide to as to work swiftly, diligently and with no emotion."

"Easy for you to say, you big black blob!"

Hi. I'm Chastity Kingsley. Nice to meet you. And yes, that was indeed sarcasm.

Believe me when I say I could go on for hours about myself, but I'll spare you a favor and give the quick version.

First off, I'm a grim reaper, which means one day I might kill you. However, as we go, I'm rather young. Normally this wouldn't be an issue. We're created and are put through an academy and circuit training classes to learn the necessary skill sets to be announced a full-fledged one, guided by a general homeroom teacher if you will with individual work done one-on-one with a tutor. You complete those years, graduate of your grades are above a certain standard, and work your way up through ranks from there.

I, however, was a...special case.

Even though I graduated (D in etiquette, D+ in written- which wasn't terrible once you got past the fact that I spelt 'I' wrong- and an A- in practical technique...good enough to pass!), they had tacked me onto a mentor to "further continue my curriculum". That's a nice way of telling the students they failed miserably and need a babysitter to clip them on a leash outside of school. Understandable though, as much as I hate to say.

For example, the laughably bad notes on my final report card;

Weaknesses: Lazy, extremely inattentive, loud, pyromantic tendencies, self-centric, very stubborn, no forethought, shockingly rude, doesn't react well to lack of attention, doesn't listen, barely ever stops talking, dimwitted, sarcastic

Strengths: …Eager

…Well, if nothing else, I'm eager.

So the arses in charge at the academy paired me up with William as his apprentice after I graduated. I guess they had good intentions in their thought process- William is the definition of professionalism, orderly work habits, calmness and all that- so they thought that if they took the practical delinquent from school and paired her up with him she'd learn from him, eventually molding into the perfect cookie-cutter grim reaper they strived to make.

It wasn't working out so far.

My energetic, independent, fiery demeanor clashed horribly with his strict, emotionless, bloody boring one and did nothing for the cause they presented other than make us hate each other more.

"Big black blob? …You're really immature," came my unimpressed reply, snapping me back to reality.

"I'm here, right now, as your out-of-academy apprentice. Did you really expect me to be?"

"Is it too much to ask for you not to set fire to dwellings or other various objects and to not insult me with names that sound like they come from Mr. Sutcliff?"

"I know what I'm doing!"

"Stop acting like you know best all the time."

"One; never. Three; where's the fun in that?"

I gave a satisfied smirk at the frustrated twitch of my senior's eyebrow as I tossed my nape-of-neck length honey brown hair, the unruly ends brushing against my fingertips. I looked down at my clothing now smudged with the tar colored explosion stains. Oh, pity.

Because there was absolutely no way in hell I was wearing those tight, movement restricting women's uniforms I was expected to- a pressed, crisp business jacket with stiff knee-length pencil skirts of which hems were about as big around as my thigh- and the murderous high heels, much to my all-knowing mentor's objection, I sported nearly the same clothes as him, the men's uniform. Alterations, of course. I swapped out the default black tie for a royal purple one, didn't wear the hot and heavy jacket in favor of rolling my sleeves up elbow length, and switched the dress shoes for more comfortable formal-looking sneakers.

Apart from that, I looked pretty much standard. I had the sonic, neon lime green eyes as all of us did…which, unfortunately, consequently meant horrible eyesight, so I had huge, thick black-rimmed glasses custom made as soon as got out of school.

Death scythe wise, if you think I'm patient enough to wait for a legal modification warrant or have enough motivation to do all the paperwork, that's cute. Admittedly I illegally changed my newbie sickle (which suck, by the way) into my glorious weapon today. A long, dull green instrument revved to life with a flip of a switch that I had so named a weed whacker, a threatening circular blade at the end which will most likely be the last thing you'll ever see.

…And it's not like William figured it out yet or anything.

Once again, I snapped back into focus to Mr. Happy angrily ranting at me in a monotone voice, which could be either frustrating or hilarious, depending on how you look at it. "You are to collect and organize all the souls on this mission we have just completed as punishment, including the ones from the house you just blew up."

Did he not understand the word accident? Jesus. "Aw, c'mon!"

He folded his arms. "You will be done by curfew and if not, awarded overtime. I believe I have made myself clear."

I pouted. "You want me to walk all the way back to the library?

"Yes."

"But-"

"Clear, Miss Kingsley?"

I sighed, tucking my whacker under the crook of my elbow to cross my arms, grumbling unhappily under my breath. "Clear," I muttered.

William looked behind him. "Good. Report back to the library to do your work. I'll finish up collecting the rest of the souls."

I paused, raising my eyebrows expectantly at him.

"Yes?"

I tipped my head. "Aren't you gonna call a carriage for me?"

William glanced back to me, arching an eyebrow and shooting me a 'You're-really-an-idiot-aren't-you' look. "Why on Earth would I waste money just to call a carriage for a rude apprentice who is too lackadaisical to actually use her legs and walk the simple mile back to the library?"

"...Because your lackadaisical apprentice doesn't want to?"

"I have had enough of this disgusting incompetence. Just go." And he took off deeper into the heart of London until his black hair and his black suit (and his black personality) disappeared into the black shadows of the night.

I mumbled and spat out cusses that William would've washed my mouth out with soap had he heard. I played with my whacker before letting out a breath of defeat, coming out as a little puff of steam in the cool, crisp night air. I yawned and stretched, beginning the trek back to the place I knew best.

I knew the path by heart- I could've walked it blindfolded, backwards, hopping on one foot (but that would be ridiculous). Everything was so familiar- the brush of the bush's crooked branches against my fingertips, the fresh air swirling around me, encasing me with scents of the grass over the rolling hills, the sweet aroma of the roses dotting the landscape, the faint warm smells of freshly baked bread wafting from the marketplace over yonder. A tiny smile touched my lips. Home.

Well, actually, home was just over the hill.

The Death God Library stood as magnificently as ever. At least twenty or so stories high (but I'm pretty sure it was even more), a gleaming silvery blue when in presented in the shining sunlight. The rooms were countless- and for good reason. Not only did the library serve as a library containing the life story of every deceased human ever to live in England (which would've been enough as it is), but also as our offices.

Oh, and did I mention we live there, too? Yeeeeah.

The top five levels served as dorms for all of us. Most of us had our own rooms, but some- especially newbies- had to share. I had my own, thank God- almost all other reapers were neatfreaks and would've gone absolutely ballistic sharing my pigsty of a room with me. I guess I could still be considered a newbie, but only because I was young and inexperienced- I passed my exams, after all. My grades were embarrassing, sure, but enough for me to skate by by the skin of my teeth. I do not wish to go over this topic again.

I sighed, walking to the front doors and swinging them open. I felt a tiny shudder run down my back, prickling my spine with electricity or force field or something. This wasn't anything unusual, of course, I had grown used to it- it happened every time I walked in. Not me in particular, everyone. It was the library's way of checking that only death gods entered, as no other beings were allowed unless escorted in by a one, which rarely ever happened, given that other beings aren't SUPPOSED to come in here. The little shock was completely harmless to us death gods. Others, not so much. (I've heard rumors about Grell bringing a demon in here once…and a fallen angel. I call bullshit, that could never happen!)

I nodded a greeting to a few fully-suited reapers huddled in a cluster near the entrance, propping my scythe up against the wall and rolling up my sleeves, just how I liked them.

As almost everything I did, it was disapproved. (Oh, what did they know?)

I trudged up the stairs, stopping at the third floor to duck left, collapsing into my desk, propping my elbows up on my desk. I slid my palms under my glasses to rub my bleary eyes, blinking to readjust them. I scanned my messy desk, my gaze coming to rest on a stack of paperwork half my height waiting patiently for me.

I groaned.

This was gonna be a long night.

Nothing exciting is ever happening to me.

A/N: And there's the first chapter. This serves as an introduction to Chastity and her world- the main plot will kick in soon, I promise. This'll be shown more later in the story, but basically, you know that one friend you have that is constantly talking, never listens, never shuts up, and too hyperactive to sit still for two seconds? (...I'll admit, I'm that friend in my little group. ._.' Lol) But yeah, that's her. XD So. Hope you all liked it! Reviews would be amazing, so thank you. The next chapter will be up soon!