You must meet death in order to be reborn.
"Hello, Mister Kramer."
John blinked slowly, trying to comprehend what was happening. He found himself able to move, though he was somehow restricted to the bed. Recalling the last few minutes, he remembered Jeff slashing his throat, but not much else. And the man whom spoke, whom John was certain he never met before, just showed up out of nowhere. It wasn't a part of the plan, and John learned that not every miscalculation felt horrible. Perhaps it was because nothing was worse than the death of his son, or maybe it was because he was on the brink of death, but what he felt was nowhere close to dread. It was a thrill of the unknown, and the thought of it confused him.
The person in front of him was barely a man, anyway, and more of a teen. He was pale white-like he was drained out of blood-with jet black, curly hair that cascaded all the way down to his waist. He was short and thin, clad with white shirt and knee-length shorts.
"Who are you?"
"You don't know me, but I know you," he giggled, and John took notice of his amusement. He just repeated back John's word toward Jeff, though how he knew about those words remained unknown.
"Who are you?" John repeated.
"Cecil Adams," the raven stated, clearly ignoring John's question because he knew Cecil, and that man was definitely not him. "The trigger. The first kill. Your first kill. Or perhaps to be more exact, your first lesson. Despise murderers, did you not? Then Amanda Young. The first survivor. The first student. Not so much of both now, is she?"
John watched him closely as the teen walked towards him, how his dainty hand trailed on his bed before landing on his hand. He squeezed his hand, smiling brightly like nothing was wrong. Strangely, John found no will to resist. The hand upon his was oddly warm, contrary to his vampire-like looks.
"I'm a fan of your work, Mister Kramer. The lessons you handed out are inspiring, if a little bloody. The clean up was always quite horrid, and the paperwork more so, but I made sure to personally collect all of them. The success rate of the game itself seems to be rather low, but as you said, most people are so ungrateful to be alive anyway."
"Who are you?" John asked again, and he felt like a broken record. He let his eyes strayed away from the raven, and saw Jeff still raging like mad, paying no attention to the stranger in the room. It was alarming, because if he can see John alive and talking, he would not be ignoring them. It sent chills down his spine.
On the other hand, the raven continued rambling, uncaring. "I'm sorry for the tumor. And the brain surgery, cause it certainly looked quite painful. And of course, the slash on your throat, though that one's on you, but I can fix that all later."
John turned to him, and shouted out his frustration. "Who are you?! Answer me!"
The stranger stared at him. Seeing him paused made John tense up, eyes darting to search for visible threats. John then noticed his eyes; green and glowing unlike anything he's ever seen, unlike anything of this earth. The smirk forming on his face showed John that the man was at least having fun with enraging the jigsaw, and drew amusement from it. "My name is Harry," he stated. "And I am the Master of Death."
Of course, Harry's response-if he was to be trusted- only cause more confusion. Harry then proceed to move his hand and placed them on John's face, caressing it. This action was done many times by Amanda, but somehow this one felt different, and John fought the urge to blush. It was illogical, it was maddening. And it didn't help that John knew absolutely nothing about this man.
"Master of Death?" he questioned.
"Yes, John, I can call you that, right? John?"
John ignored him. "What is Master of Death?"
"It is quite obvious by the tile, is it not? Master of Death. I'm responsible for Death. I checked out every death that happened, every soul, and I signed them off. I regulate them. I get to know many kinds of people, many kinds of personalities; though fuck, the paperworks are bloody horrid."
John pondered on this for a moment. "I am dead, am I not?"
"I'm afraid so," Harry said. "You lost a lot of blood. And even if you didn't, the brain surgery Miss Denlon did will only last you so long. Now that Miss Young's gone, you have very little people to count on. Mister Hoffman is loyal now, but we both know that his loyalty was first and foremost to himself. Mister Gordon was too unpredictable an asset, and with your current condition..."
John understand why he trailed off. The smile forming on the raven's face was confusing, though.
"However, I have a proposition."
John stared, interested. He gestured Harry to continue, and the Master of Death's smile widened in delight.
"I want to play a game."
He looked at Harry, whom decided at that moment that his crooked dead bed looked quite comfortable and hopped on, then quickly sat on top of John's leg. He sat on a sidesaddle position, eyes fluttering at him. It occurred to John that moment how delicate the raven appeared; his frail bony hands looked like it might break with a snap, his legs skinny and pale. This being, whose title implicate tremendous abilities beyond comprehension, looked like your everyday human.
"Not the same game you play, of course. A game without obvious consequence, a game without the possibility of dying." Harry quipped, twirling a strand of his hair before tucking it behind his ear. "I don't need you dead. I don't want you dead."
"What is it you want from me?" John can't help but asked.
Harry smiled coyly. "What is the cure for cancer?" He began, leaning closer to the older man. "Miss Young said immortality. By making a legacy to carry on your work when you die, and by living a life worth remembering. I guess in a sense it is true; every single human faced with death has no way to prolong their life, and as such no better way to continue on. The idea of a legacy has its own merits, even if only the ideals remain. And I very much like yours."
Those who don't appreciate life do not deserve life. That was John's moral beliefs, one he acquired with his suicidal jump over the cliff.
Harry stopped then, and stared at John right in the eyes. "You are a very intelligent man, full of knowledge above what men your age usually would have. You are a man with strong beliefs of what you are doing, and I admire you for that. You tried your best, and thought, with these years I have left, I will help people appreciate their life. But what if you have all the time in the world? Will you stick to your beliefs, which I understand only came from your knowledge of death?"
"I am an immortal. I walked towards my death, and I walked out of it. For me, death had always been a lover, one to embrace at the end of the day. There was once a time when I do appreciate being alive; living with my friends and family. But they, not unlike any other mortals, grew old and pass away, leaving me alone in my frozen state where I remained so for years, before I finally reached my apathy." He tilted his head in a cat-like manner. "Very little interest me nowadays, yet you do."
"I want you to continue your work. I want to see you built tools to save people, without this knowledge of death. I want to see you try to help people appreciate their lives, when you yourself is deprived of this impending death. I want you to help people fight for their lives, when you are robbed of the need to do the same."
The implication in his words was staggering, and John found himself wondering just what exactly had he got himself into. What did the Master of Death expect of him, and was he capable of full-filing it? The offer itself was made clear with the words coming out of his pale lips.
"I'm giving you immortality, John."
John parted his lips, but nothing came out of his mouth.
"This is my game. I am challenging you to hold on to your beliefs, John; you who's never uncertain, you who never doubt. I am challenging you with a life with no end. All you need to do is take my hand."
Was he really the right man to do this? Has he the capability to care for others his whole life, to make them cherish their life? To stop them from wasting their life and test their will to survive forever?
Offering to John life when he was the one teaching people to appreciate life. No obvious consequences indeed.
Harry jumped out of the bed and dusted of imaginary dust of his clothes, before turning back to him. He offered up his hand towards John, smiling. "Fight for your life one last time?"
And so John looked at Harry in the eyes, and took his hand.
-this is a line-
I'm sorry for the horrible quality of writing (because I'm doing this as an excuse to not do my college works, and I did this at 3 AM, right after I finished my SAW marathon). I'm always fascinated by John Kramer's ideals, and I am quite certainly a Potthead, so this is the result. I think it is ingenious to make John believe in his ideals so strongly, regardless of the twisted agenda slipped in-between (his revenge, because if you did not notice that, you're deluding yourself). On the other hand, the lack of Jill Tuck is on purpose. I know deep down John still loves her, even with his apparent emotional detachment, but for God's sake I cannot stand the woman. I'm sorry for that.
Anyway, thank you for reading! Please read and review! Tell me what you think!
shygirlbobby out! :D