Stern is the Spirit
Death had been nice while it lasted.
The Hunter wasn't sure what he'd been expecting after death, but anything at all would have been better than the… life he had been leading. The arrival of the Grim Reaper had been an unexpected gift, a chance to go out with a lot more dignity than he could have managed otherwise.
There had been a strange fog, and a strange land, and fear, but none of that lasted long. Soon he was drifting in a sea of music, placated and oblivious, perfectly happy to let his memory drift away…
Until his throat burned, and he was back on the floor in that warehouse.
A wet cough wracked his body and tore through his throat on its way out, something a dead man definitely should not have had to worry about. He spat out a glob a didn't have to look to know it was blood.
He didn't even bother getting up for a second. He'd known he was dead. He'd felt himself die. He'd actually been to the afterlife, even if he couldn't quite remember most of it now, and it felt too real to have been a dream. Maybe this was the dream, and if he just laid here long enough, he would go back…
…
Nothing. He was still alive, and now a little sore from his awkward position.
Accepting reality for the moment, he pushed himself to his knees. He was exactly where he expected to be, afterlife notwithstanding; he lay right where he had fallen when Death took his life, gun laying not far by his side. But the man in the mask was gone and everything covered in a layer of dust; it had been a while.
He reached up to rub his throat, and felt the raised skin where it had split open.
It had been real.
"I'm not dead?" he finally said out loud.
You are banished from death.
He whirled to face the sound, only catching a glint of silver as it fled from sight.
"Who's there?!"
Snatched out of the Well of Souls and cursed with undeath…
"I've heard that one before," the Hunter said sardonically, slowly reaching out to pick up his gun. A lot of good it would do against a demon, but at least he'd feel better.
And what do you suppose has happened, then? the voice asked derisively. You were dead, and now you are not.
"Well, whatever's happened, you can bet I'm not going to do you any favors," the Hunter said, bringing himself to a stand as he regained his confidence. Light flashed in the corner of his eye and he turned to face it, but just like before it was gone again.
Favor has nothing to do with it; we are bound together in your flesh, and I assume you don't want my company for the rest of your existence.
The Hunter decided he already wasn't fond of this guy's attitude, and he frowned. "So you're going to follow me around and annoy me until I do what you say, is that it?"
The voice sighed irritably, and the Hunter congratulated himself.
Your existence, it continued, which will be much longer than your normal human lifespan unless the curse is broken.
"Undeath," the Hunter said, remembering the voice's words from earlier. "So I'm immortal now?"
You are banished from death.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time."
But his frown deepened. Death… There had been a reason he'd asked for death when that guy came around. Even if he managed not to die, that still left him with no one to talk to and nothing to live for—nothing to look forward to but an end to his struggles. To have that go on forever…
And, well, he'd seen movies. Immortality being granted to mortals was never a good idea.
"So, let's assume I really am cursed—which, by the way, I have no way of knowing." The Hunter crossed his arms and cast his gaze about the empty room, not sure where to direct his words. "What exactly does anyone get out of this? Oh haha, we're tied together and I'm immortal. So? Who would do this?"
We call him Samael…
"Oh boy, I've heard that one somewhere."
His motives are inscrutable at best. They say that he is nearly omniscient—perhaps he simply wishes for entertainment.
Sadly, from what the Hunter knew of demons he could believe that. "So, I'm guessing we're going to have to go find him if we want to be separated."
Most likely.
The Hunter sighed. Well, at least he had something to do, even if he wasn't sure it was in his best interest. "Fine. But if we're going to be sharing a body, then we may as well share our names too."
There was a pause in which the voice was silent, and for a moment the Hunter wondered if it had lied after all and left after having its fun. But a silver wind blew in, and suddenly where he was once alone there now stood another in the empty room.
He was tall and broad, wearing armor the Hunter might have sworn he'd seen somewhere before, and the skin of his face was shrunken and wrinkled in a way that spoke pretty clearly of why he was translucent at the moment. Where his eyes should have been there were only strange lights, unblinking and deeply unsettling.
I have no name, he said as he formed.
The Hunter scoffed. "Well then I have no name either. That sort of thing's a two-way street you know?"
I remember it not, the specter said, turning away from him uncomfortably. The Well wipes clean the memories of all who pass through it, with time… Some knowledge is too old and worn to wash away so easily, but I know no more of who I am than you do.
"Ugh." The Hunter rolled his eyes. "You realize how hard it is for me to believe you, right? I've been down that road before."
You don't have to believe me, the ghost said, back still turned to him. But it won't change the truth.
The Hunter looked down at his rifle, rubbing his thumb over the barrel. He had been dead, and now he was not. That was definitely not anything natural. But Belial's lies hung over him like a cloud, and he would not sacrifice so much for a falsehood again…
...But then, what did he have to lose? There was no one else to turn on, nothing to do but keep on surviving pointlessly. Even if it was a lie, at least he could feel as though he were working toward some truth.
"...Fine," he said finally, looking up again. "I'll help you look for this Samael guy. But I'm warning you: I'm pretty helpless compared to most of what's out there, and this thing's gonna need a lot of maintenance before it'll fire again."
The phantom turned back to him, smiling in a way the Hunter wasn't sure he trusted. Not for long.