Grim Black looked down at his 13 year old son. He had been a very eager pupil in many ways. Martial arts had come easily to him, just like his father, and being bron into the power of the Reaper had made that come naturally as well. There was no escaping this, Grim was proud of his little boy. But now...now came the real test. He set two hourglasses down on the desk in front of him, and looked straight into his son's eyes.
"Marcus," he said seriously, "you have learned avidly, of martial arts, magic, and of the power of the reaper. You have come along extremely well...but it is time for your final test. This test will determine if you are cut out for one day inheriting the role of Grim Reaper from me. This test...is your first round solo reaping."
Marcus gulped, and nodded. "I won't let you down, Dad."
Grim chuckled. "I know you won't, son. Here." He handed over the hourglasses, indicating the larger one. "I would recommend this one first, to sort of ease your way into it. An old man, he knows his time is approaching. Oh, and a last warning: the very young, who do not yet know of mortality, and the very old, who feel their mortality approaching, will be able to see you no matter how you hide yourself. Others, unless they are the ones you are collecting, should overlook you if you're careful."
"I got it, Dad." Marcus took up the hourglasses, and vanished into nothing.
"He has truely mastered the departure," Grim said, seemingly to himself.
"Yes," Mandy said, stepping out of the shadows. "He has always been an apt and eager pupil. But...are you sure he's ready for this?"
"He is as ready as I was my first time. And his first reaping will be easier than mine was." Grim turned, letting his hood fall as he smiled at his wife.
Mandy smiled at him briefly, but the worried frown returned. "And what about the second?"
Grim smiled a knowing smile. "That...is the test."
Marcus arrived in the mortal realms, simply appearing in the hallway of the hospital. Walking carefully, he followed where the hourglass led. He found his way to a room where a great many people sat, some on the verge of tears, some already crying, but most with the stoic expressions of those determined to send the soon to be deceased off with the smile asked of them irregardless of their own feelings. While some shared enough resemblance to be family, most didn't seem to have any relation at all.
*He has a lot of friends,* Marcus thought to himself as he approached the wall. He decided not to use the door, as others might need it soon. He simply walked through the wall.
Inside, the room was quiet. It had quite a few balloons and flowers and other well wishing gifts scattered around. In the bed, an exceptionally old man leaned back, talking quietly to a girl who couldn't be more than 4.
"-and then, when the angel comes for me, my pain will end, and I will journey to my reward."
"And the angels name is the Grim Reaper?" the little girl asked.
"Yes. The grim Reaper is the Angel of Death. He is not one to be feared, but welcomed." The old man gestured to the table. "These are for him, after all." On the table were a glass of single malt scotch and a few sugar cookies.
"Thanks for the cookies, but I think I'm a little young to drink," Marcus said, smiling to himself, glancing at the hourglass. Grim had been right, this would be an easy one. "Grandfather Harold Sandfrod, I presume?"
The old man nodded to him, unsurprised. "That I am. You're the Angel of Death?"
Marcus shrugged. "His son. I'm being groomed to take his place someday...and this is my first solo reaping." Despite his apparent bravado, he was beginning to feel nervous.
Harold grinned, showing that despite such advanced age he'd managed to keep most of his teeth. "That's okay. It's my first time dying...as far as I know. We can figure it out together."
Marcus stepped forward, drawing his sword. He had carefully forged and reforged it in preperation for this day, and the blade was almost molecule thin, a shadow of light in the air, and sharp enough to slice sound and light itself. When wielded like this, though, it would sever a soul from a body without damaging anything else. He set the hourglass down on the bedside table. "You have a couple more minutes."
"In that case, since you won't drink-" Harold grabbed the glass of single malt and downed it, smacking his lips. "Good stuff. Cookie?"
With a smile, Marcus accepted the cookie, nibbling on it absently as he watched. The little girl sat in a chair now, watching. She had a strong occult aura, and would probably grow to have a strong influence on the magical world. She, too, took a cookie to nibble on.
As the moment approached, Marcus raised his sword. As the last grain of sand fell, he brought it down in a double hand swing.
Grandfather Harold stood free of his body. "Well done, a nice clean cut. You do good work for a first timer."
Marcus smiled. "I had a good teacher."
Harold nodded, brushing the girl's hair with a ghostly finger. "Goodbye, Anna. I'll see you again someday."
Anna nodded. "Bye Grandpa. Sleep well."
Marcus gathered the hourglass, Harold's soul - and another cookie - and left through shadows as the other mourners came through. This wasn't so bad after all. It was time to go on to the next one.
Walking through shadows, Marcus pulled out the other hourglass - which was distressingly smaller - and examined the name. He followed where it led.
He found himself in a city. He saw most of the people had retreated to a safe distance, as three individuals did battle against a monster.
As he approached, he saw that the monster was a Nether Gral, also called a Ravener, a crafted creature that existed only to consume. It could not have made its way to the human world on its own. Someone had summoned it to do their bidding.
As he drew closer, he saw that it was three girls his own age doing battle against the creature. Superheroes, he figured. Looking at the hourglass, he assumed he was here to collect a civilian, someone who got too close to the action. He positioned himself where the hourglass led him.
He found himself standing over one of the empowered girls as she was knocked backwards from the Ravener. He realized that the hourglass he held was hers. He looked down, and felt a shock of recognition.
The girl struggling to sit up and keep fighting was just a few inches shorter than he was, with midnight black hair cut short and emerald green eyes. She wore a green t-shirt, jeans, and high tops. Struggling to push herself up, her eyes passed over him...then swung back to lock on his own.
Time seemed to slow as the moment extended, as Marcus drew his sword. He knew the rules of the Duty. He was here to reap, not to pass judgement, not to CHOOSE who was to live or die. There were rules of these things, and he had been taught well. He raised his sword as the Ravener lunged towards them...
Tossing aside the hourglass momentarily, he spun, sweeping his sword through the shaping, shapeless mass of the Ravener. It's howl of triumph turned to confusion and agony as its life ended. Catching the mass with one hand, Marcus rolled, propelling it by hand and foot into a nearby empty building which collapsed on top of it.
Marcus stood up, picking up the hourglass. ...something that wasn't sand had appeared in the upper bulb. *I screwed up,* Marcus thought to himself. *I'm in so much trouble!*
He turned and saw the girl staring at him. He put his finger to his lips, and stepped backwards breifly into shadows, watching. One of the other girls - dressed in red - zipped up to her.
"Buttercup!" the girl shouted. "Buttercup, are you okay?"
"Yeah, Blossom," the girl who should have been reaped said quietly. "I'm just fine."
Marcus turned to the shadows, letting the scene fade. He gazed at the hourglass, reading the name. "Buttercup...Utonium...Hmm..."