Death city never aged.
It was in a parallel universe to earth, all on its own. It never changed, never wavered. Though the human world would age, fall, and be reborn, death city remained eternal.
Of course, the same could not be same for its inhabitants. They were born, they aged, and they died.
Not all at the same rates, though.
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It was Halloween night. Though death city was rather Halloween-ish 24-7, it really went all out on the true Halloween. Ghosts flew though the skies, and cats ran the streets.
Of course, some things remain the same, no matter where one is. All the little kids were out in their little masks, getting candies and scaring each other.
But the grownups were elsewhere. They were all at the DWMA, at Shinigami-sama's annual deathday bash. Here, skeletons talked to werewolves, zombies danced with vampires, and witches (false ones… well, mostly.) flew through the grand ballroom.
But the guest of honor himself had yet to arrive. Shinigami-sama always appeared at the ball, come rain or shine. Everyone crowded around the stage, anxious to meet him.
But this year, something was wrong.
People whispered to each other nervously.
"where's lord death?"
"he was scheduled to be here a half hour ago."
"Is there some kind of trouble?"
Then, Shinigami-sama's current head death scythe, gharran luggan, rushed through the curtains, onto the stage. Everyone began to cheer, but gharran waved his hands to make them be quiet. He seemed hasty and impatient.
"everyone, I have some bad news." He said into a microphone.
"shinigami-sama will not make it to this year's deathday bash."
The crowd roared with indignation. No shinigami-sama? Halloween wasn't Halloween without him!
"BUT!"
Gharran looked excited, on the verge of jumping up and down.
"I have some news which not only justifies his absence, but also calls for greater celebration."
There was a confused jumble of sounds from the crowd. What could possibly make Shinigami-sama miss out on his favorite holiday of the year?
"Ladies and gentlemen…" Gharran looked like he would explode from excitement.
"today…"
"THE SON OF DEATH IS BORN!"
The crowd roared so loudly, It could be heard for half a mile. This time, though, it was a happy roar. A new heir to the death empire?
"let's all have the greatest bash since shinigami-sama's inauguration party!" screamed gharran, and the party started up again, only this time, everyone was dancing and partying and the music was louder then ever.
Yes, it was the happiest day death city had had in a long time.
However, on the other side of town, it was the saddest day of one man's life.
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Shinigami-sama sat anxiously in the waiting room of the hospital. He knew births weren't over in 5 minutes, but surely they didn't usually take this long.
Shinigami-sama wore his usual attire: his terrifying skull mask and wicked black claws were known and feared by everyone. Though the students of the academy were horrified by them, they usually were old enough to stomach it.
"S-Shinigami-s-sama…" came a voice from in front of lord death. He looked up into the eyes of a terrified technician, in green scrubs which every hospital member seemed to wear.
"yes." Death said in his horrible, grave voice. (no pun intended)
"i- i- i… I'm afraid i… i…" the technician was terrified of death himself, and rightly so, but shinigami-sama sensed extra fear in this man. Was he merely cowardly, or…
"i-i-I'm afraid… th-there were some…" the technician took a deep breath, then forced out of his mouth the two worst words shinigami-sama ever heard in his life.
"…birth complications."
The two words a father never wanted to hear.
Death pushed past the technician and was in his wife's room in less then a second. There he was met with a terrible sight.
His wife lay in the bed, white as ice. Her stomach had deflated from what it had been the past couple months, but…
Death took his wife's hand in his.
"Elvira…"
Death does not shed tears.
Death stayed by his wife's side for about ten minutes, before a nurse came in, carrying a bundle.
"shinigami-sama…" said the nurse. "…I'm sorry."
Lord Death looked at the nurse. He stared at her for what could have been seconds or years. "the child…"
"did he survive?"
The nurse gulped, then forced a weak smile to her face.
"yes."
"you have a surprisingly resilient baby, Mr death. He was unable to breathe whatsoever for almost ten minutes, but then he was just fine."
"let me see him." Shinigami-sama commanded. "I want to see who my wife sacrificed herself for."
The nurse gently handed him the bundle, and Death took it in his black claws, looking down at the small one within.
Inside lay a baby. They all look the same when they are first born, but this one had two distinctions. First was its skin. White as ice, and even colder.
The second was, it had 3 white lines, on its hairless forehead.
Shinigami-sama breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the baby's chest move. He was definitely alive. Elvira's sacrifice had not been in vain.
Then, with a small yawn, the baby opened its eyes. They were startlingly yellow, almost like searchlights.
Death gazed into the eyes of his son.
Then the baby started crying.
The crying turned to screaming, and the baby writhed frantically, trying to get out of death's claws.
Death was stunned, then shoved the baby back to the nurse. He didn't know how to handle a crying infant! Not so soon!
The nurse went "sh-sh-shhhh…" and gently patted the child on the back. The baby yawned, and was soon asleep.
"w-what happened?" said death, shocked by his son's behavior.
"sir… infants are easily frightened…" The nurse said.
"Your mask is what terrified him."
Death paused, stunned. Then he put a claw to his skull mask, and looked at a nearby mirror, over a sink.
He knew he was terrifying… but to scare his own son to screams…
Things had to change.
"I'll be back. Keep my son safe." He said, not looking at the nurse. Then he gently placed a black claw tip on the mirror, and was sucked inside.
For an hour at least, death did not return from the mirror. The hospital staff waited anxiously, wondering what was happening.
Then, a bulge from the mirror, and out popped shinigami-sama.
Only it was not shinigami-sama. Not anymore.
It was the shinigami-sama we know and love today, full of bounciness and life, claws replaced with foam fingers, terrible skull mask replaced with a rather cute one.
"Well, let me see my son!" Death said, but not in his usual hollow voice. No, it was the bouncy voice which we all know and love.
Stunned at this change, the nurse, with shaking hands, handed death his son once more.
Once again, death and the son stared at each other. The hospital staff and even shinigami-sama held their breath, waiting to see how the kid would react.
But the child did not scream and writhe. Instead, he smiled, and hugged one of shinigami-sama's oversized white fingers.
"Ohhh, aren't you a CUTIE!" squealed Lord death, tickling his son with his free hand. "goochie goochie goo!"
The child giggled and squealed. The nurses and doctors looked on, amazed. Death himself had become harmless as a bunny rabbit!
Then death looked once more at the nurses and doctors amassed in the room. "I'm gonna be takin' my son home now! Bye-eeeeee!" he then leapt into the mirror once more, taking the child with him, leaving the stunned hospital staff in his wake.
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Death slithered through the twisting white void that was mirrorspace, the space between mirrors.
He talked as he moved. "did I do well?"
Death's terror form materialized, and glided alongside his regular form.
"yes, my son. You did perfectly. Now that you have an heir, I can rest in peace. You have reign of the death empire."
Lord death's harmless form looked up at the terror form as they walked, and it was obvious he was smiling.
"You shall make a great grandfather."
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Robbie Vincetti walked the cold streets of Brooklyn.
He sighed. Twenty-nine years old, son of one of the biggest crime bosses in new york (if not America), life was a bitch. He was starting to wonder if it was time to hang up his pistol. He had had enough killing.
Suddenly, a white car screeched around a corner. Robbie paid no notice at first; there were plenty crazy drivers in Brooklyn.
But then, not five feet away from him, from the backseat of the speeding car, he witnessed a pair of hands throwing two bundles into a dingy trash can on the side of the street. One got in cleanly; the other bumped rather hard on the side of the can. The car didn't stop, driving out of sight. Robbie didn't catch the license plate.
Naturally curious, Robbie walked over to the trash can and peered in. Sitting on top of various filthy debris, there were two bundles, firmly wrapped in pink blankets, the exact same size.
One was moving.
With shaking hands, Robbie picked the moving bundle out of the can. He slowly unwrapped it…
To find a squirming, squiggling baby.
The baby was not crying… indeed, it was surprisingly calm. It stared at Robbie, as if to say, "why are you holding me?"
Robbie was stunned for a moment, staring at the child. Then he stared in the direction the car went.
What kind of a monster would abandon a child like this? The least they could do was drop it off at an orphanage… but then again, that would mean a lot of paperwork, and many folks didn't want to go through that, whether they have short attention spans, or were on the run.
Robbie then took the other bundle out of the garbage can. Judging by the dent on one end, this was the one which bumped the edge of the garbage can on the way down. He unwrapped it, and as he suspected, there was a second baby within.
What he did not expect was the dent in its head.
It was as though somebody had pushed their thumb, hard, into the baby's head. Though the skin was not broken, it was obviously serious.
Robbie remembered from his school days... an newborn infant's bones had the same consistency of cardboard, and were easily broken.
"Must have happened when she hit the can…" muttered Robbie. Then, being the good Samaritan of a mobster he was, he ran towards the nearest hospital, three blocks away.
Xxxxxxxx
Two hours later, Robbie sat in the ER waiting room, the undamaged baby cradled in his arms, still half-swaddled in the blanket.
"Mr. Robert?"
Robbie looked up. He never used his last name in public, he was the son of a mobster, after all.
"Your child is going to live."
Robbie smiled an almost relieved smile. He didn't want a baby's death on his hands.
"It took some reconstructive surgery, but she will definitely live. However, she will not survive without a price."
Robbie's smile faded.
"She caved in almost all her frontal lobe. We were able to repair most of it, but certain parts were irreparable.
"What we're looking at, Mr. Robert, is partial mental retardation. There will also be growth stuntage of a certain measure. The child will live, but she… she will never be normal."
Robbie was silent for a moment, but then he shook his head and said politely, "thank you nurse. Is there anything else?"
"Yes, actually." Said the nurse. "what are your children's names? We need them for our records."
"they're not my…" Robbie began to say they weren't his kids, but stopped. Saying he had two babies with him who weren't his children… that would lead to all sorts of unpleasant questions. "I mean… names? Right. Names…"
What to name the children? Robbie thought fast. He thought of his mother and sister, who had died in a fire years ago. It was better then nothing.
"This one is Elizabeth." He said, holding up the baby in his hands. Then he pointed to the door where the other was located. "That one is Patricia."
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Hooray! First chap done!
Wow, this is long. I'll try to make them shorter from now on. More chaps to come, trust me!
I don't own anyone.