*~The Adventures of Death the Kid~*
Point Pleasant, Part One
My name is Death the Kid. I am the son of Death himself, and, like my father; I am not human, but a Grim Reaper, or according to Japanese lore, a rare paranormal entity known as the Shinigami. A few months ago, on a trip to The Big Apple, I found myself face-to-face with who I assumed was a lone mugger, armed with a pistol. My skin and tissue, having the ability to mend wounds faster than any human, I did not fear my assailant, or her weapon. Thankfully, after I revealed the insides of my ashen-colored pockets, with no money in sight, she backed off. Little did I know, this was not the last I would see of the girl, for she was my future partner—well, one of them, anyways.
The day was gorgeous. The clouds were perfectly symmetrical, the sky was robin's-egg blue, and the temperature was fair. Well, not in Death Valley, where Gallows Manor and DWMA resides, but where Kid and his weapon partners were sent on a mission, everything seemed lovely.
Lovely on the outside, that-is…
"Here we are, ladies," Kid muttered, in his usual, monotone voice, "Point Pleasant, West Virginia!" The Thompson sisters gasped, but not because of the picturesque view; Kid and his weapons were flying at a high altitude, and, being on Beelzebub, his trusty demon hover-board, Liz and Patty were forced to remain transformed as weapons, much to Liz's dismay, and complaints of having a back-ache. In pistol mode, the two sisters couldn't see much of what was going on outside, but they were there with their meister, while he was being briefed on mission-info.
The town of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, was once a peaceful one—a self-proclaimed logging town, up until 1967, when disaster struck. The Silver Bridge, erected in 1928 to bridge the gap between West Virginia and Ohio, collapsed. The now-fallen bridge once billed as "a shining example of man's engineering ingenuity," fell like a deck of cards, right at rush hour.
46 people perished, and two were never found among the wreckage.
Yes, December 15th, 1967, was a tragic day. Lord Death was particularly busy, as you can imagine. And, although Kid wished the story ended there, the reason he and his trusted partners were called upon, was not to grieve, but to uncover the truth about a long-hidden shadow, which some say, was the cause of the disaster.
A legendary cryptid, known by locals as "The Mothman."
The girls and I landed in a forested area at about 11:30 AM. Our instructions from my father were, to first, gather data about the shadowy beast. Eyewitnesses were scattered around the area, so, after checking in to a nearby motel, and giving Liz and Patty some time to relax, we set out.
"So, Kid, how exactly are we going to single out the people that have seen this thing?" Liz prodded, a little worried with how her meister usually went-about things. He didn't show it, much, but he wasn't actually very orderly, when you get right down to it. He rarely ever had a solid plan, and was good at "winging it," due to his supernatural abilities.
"I have the perfect plan, Liz. Not to fear!" Liz groaned at his reply, the fact they were probably going to knock on everyone's door they could find, slowly cementing itself into her already-aching head. But, to her surprise, he continued with something she didn't expect—"I made arrangements for a public meeting, specifically inviting those who have encountered the thing, along with anyone who is interested in the subject. I expect many of the latter-mentioned group to be there, but if we are lucky, some of the former might come out of the woodwork." Liz breathed a sigh of relief, not eager to face a crowd, but to be in an air-conditioned room, hopefully with refreshments. Patty was also excited, albeit for a different reason entirely. Even with her unusually hyper antics, if Patty was interested enough in a story being told, she would always sit and listen, occasionally nodding to let the speaker know they were being heard. At first, this behavior shocked both Patty's sister and her meister, but truthfully, they were both glad there was some way to quell Patty's boundless energy.
They arrived at the steps of a local high school at around 2:45 PM, where Kid nonchalantly called back Beelzebub, making on-lookers from the street do a double take. The Thompson sisters morphed back into their human forms, glowing a pinkish hue and twirling elegantly out of Kid's dainty-but-firm grip, landing directly behind him, keeping up with their established formation. Kid was, admittedly, not as symmetrical as he'd like, not only due to the stripes on his head, which only gave physical-form to his plight. It was true—he had deep-seeded emotional and mental asymmetry, and through the betterment of his outward appearance, he somehow hoped to mend that.
The established meeting-room was nothing more than a regular classroom, but it was sufficient. Surprisingly, many people had already gathered, and, with the assembly scheduled for 3:00 PM, more patrons were still pouring in, like little minnows swimming up-stream in a fishy-cloud.
Fishy-cloud.
Kid couldn't help but giggle, somehow finding his make-shift replacement for the term "school of fish" hilarious, and Patty giggled with him, unsure of the reason, while Liz looked-on stoically, debating on whether or not to ask what all the laughs were about. She thought for a few moments, and eventually decided against it, ruling that it probably wasn't very funny at all, knowing Kid had somewhat of a unique sense of humor. By the time Kid and Patty managed straight faces, the crowd had stopped chatting amongst themselves, and occasionally inspecting the time on their watches, noticing the time was 3:14 PM. Kid, not wearing a watch, took a nervous glance at the wall-cock. He flinched, realizing it was nearly 15 whole minutes past the start of the meeting. He silently cursed to himself, damn fish joke, to which he almost started laughing, again, but, somehow, he contained himself, realizing how serious the subject at-hand really was.
Lives were lost, he thought. And, with that, his silly demeanor changed to a somewhat-serious one, being careful not make anyone uncomfortable, he spoke up, raising his usually-quiet voice, to make sure those in the back of the crowd could hear;
"First, I would like to thank everyone here for attending, this fine evening," he started, clearing his voice, and, again, spoke clearly, "I am sure most, if not all of you, know why you are here. But, for the sake of professionalism, this meeting is dedicated to those with a connection to The Mothman, a creature, now believed to be a Kishin Egg, which has resided in this town for over a century. Due to a recent rash of sightings, I have come from DWMA, sent by Lord Death himself, to investigate your claims…" the crowd shuffled nervously, and Kid assumed it was because of the mention of his father, but quickly became aware it was something else. Being able to sense souls, a power all death-gods possess, he worked, out layer-by-layer the origins of their unusual nervousness, and came to a conclusion that unnerved even him.
"Kid, is there something wrong?" Liz whispered, trying not to alert the crowd, although, based on their guest-speaker's strange silence, to them, something was obviously amiss. Before he and his weapons had arrived, he pulled-on his signature black cloak, making him appear more like his father, who he envied, for being less vulnerable. Even though Death the Kid was a Grim Reaper, his form was, undeniably, human. He was flawed. He could never be truly symmetrical, inside and out, due to the very basis of his anatomy being inconsistent, on both sides. Even his heart, which pumped alien-blood through his veins, was just a smidgen to the left. But, that scarcely mattered, at the moment, because Kid had a simple question to ask.
"How many of you have seen The Mothman, in-person?" A show-of-hands let him know that literally everyone in the room had, in fact, seen the beast, "Now, would one of you care to describe it, for me?" He put a strange emphasis on the word "it," leaving Liz and Patty dumbfounded. Sure enough, an older woman piped-up—"It is tall, and dark. With piercing eyes, like the reflector on the front of a bicycle," the woman paused, to swallow her saliva, and continued, "it has these black, flowing wings, and flies faster than any animal I know of. Enough to catch up with my car, going about 95, easily!" Other people in the room nodded their heads, agreeing with the woman's description. Kid closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed. When he opened them, he said something that honestly surprised his partners—
"I apologize, but our meeting must end here. I thank you, all, solemnly, for coming, and I wish you a pleasant evening. If any of you are willing to give more details, please, contact my email…" He went on, listing out any sort of contact information he could think of, even writing it down for some people, shook a few people's hands, and left, flying off into the night, twin pistols in-hand.
The trio landed at around 9:00 PM in a darkened field, lit only by the moon. Liz, of course, complained of a backache, having been in weapon-form for hours. Patty seemed a little less spunky than usual, but still generally jovial.
"Kid, what happened at the meeting? How long have we been on Beelzebub? Where are we?" Questions flowed freely from the pistol's mouth, with somewhat of a bite to them. She didn't enjoy when Kid kept secrets from she and her sister, so it was not unusual for her to be aggressive when confronting him about such things. After all, just months ago, they were still living on the streets of Brooklyn. This boy had swooped them up, like some kind of an angel. Now, they lead confortable lives, but they hadn't quite warmed up to each other, yet. It all seemed so sudden.
Liz opened her mouth to speak, again, but realized her meister was nowhere in sight. Her eyes, adjusting to the low lighting, spotted Patty nearby, inspecting a few fireflies that were mulling about. She breathed a sigh of relief, but suddenly froze. Two hands grabbed her shoulders from behind, and everything slowed. Her tank top made it so that the mysterious paws touched her bare skin, which made her shiver violently. They were so cold. Cold, clammy, and unsettling to the highest degree she ever thought possible. Liz, however, did not move a muscle, for what seemed like an eternity. Of all the nights she sat awake, wondering what kind of horrific monster would end her life, she never once thought she would go down without a fight. But, in the moment, the thought of breaking away from The Mothman's icy grip eluded her wracked brain. She stood there, in the moonlit field, her mind completely blank, until the creature quickly (and… Elegantly?) Turned her body, so that they were face-to-face.
Those eyes.
Liz breathed heavily, her heart threatening to pound right through her chest. She tried to shriek for her meister, her sister, anyone! But, in that moment, her breath caught in her dry, undulating throat. Tears threatened violently to spill outside the confines of her widening eyes, thinking her corneas would rip if they grew any wider.
"Elizabeth…"
That voice, Liz thought. And then, it clicked.
"K-Kid…?" Her shaky and uneven voice rang out in the dark. Her meister pulled her into a re-assuring hug. Liz could no longer contain herself, and she bawled into his shoulder. Admittedly, Kid wasn't all too happy, considering he hated the feeling of moist fabric against his skin, but he knew this wasn't the time to be stingy.
After a while, Liz stopped sobbing, and, again, looked her meister in the eyes. She shivered, and looked away, over his shoulder.
Kid felt her muscles tense up.
"It is watching, isn't it?" Kid breathed, surprisingly calm, "I-" his voice faltered, mid-word. Whatever calm façade he had put-up a moment before had faded, quickly, and he ordered the Thompson sisters to transform, which they gladly obliged to. Liz still had a lot of questions for her meister, but they would have to wait.
The Mothman rushed forward at blinding speed, charging at Kid. He jumped, swiftly, over the creature, landing behind it. They both turned to face each other, sizing themselves up. They seemed to be about the same height.
Good, Kid thought, a fair matchup.
The beast plunged forward, the same way it first did, but quicker. It managed to catch Kid's right leg, as he was jumping up to dodge, twisting it, painfully. The Shinigami shrieked, momentarily incapacitated, leaving him open to further attack. But, to his surprise, The Mothman fled. But, the trio soon realized, for good reason. A police car had pulled up to the clearing, having been sent to investigate the commotion. It turns out, they weren't very far from the road, at all, and someone who lived nearby called the police for the sound of what she described as "an airplane landing," to which Liz (now transformed back into human form,) could only assume was Beelzebub.
A female officer emerged from the vehicle, looking worriedly at the two, young women in front of her, not realizing there was a third member to their group. Liz and Patty, dazed, ignored the officer's questioning, and, instead, began searching for their broken meister. The search didn't take long, thanks to the cop car's headlights. The officer, named Gloria, realized what they were doing, and helped Kid into the squad car. The Thompson sisters looked at their meister's leg with concern. It was a little gruesome, even for them. There was no way they could inspect it thoroughly, due to how dark it was in the back seat, but just looking at the angle it was twisted at was unsettling, so Liz focused her sights outside, praying to Lord Death The Mothman's eyes wouldn't be peering back at her.
Thankfully, Gloria got them back to their motel, safely. Liz thanked her, and assured her that her meister didn't need any medical attention, due to his healing capabilities, although she honestly wasn't so sure. It was quite easy for him to mend his flesh, but with the bone out-of-place, that didn't seem like it would do much good. Patty sprung into the room, pretending to be a bunny, while Liz dumped Kid's limp body onto the couch. She looked at the clock, which read—3:33 AM, and she yawned audibly. Liz didn't make the best decisions when she was tired, as most humans don't, but she was particularly sleepy. Getting up at around 4:00 AM the previous morning, to prepare for their investigation, she was exhausted. Patty had already flopped herself onto their queen-sized bed, and Liz followed-suit.
She shut her eyes for what seemed like a moment, and opened them, to find daylight filtering through the windows. Elizabeth Thompson was about to get up, brush her teeth, and make a pot of coffee. She assumed she was still all the way back in California, in her angel's lavish manor, until she heard a familiar shriek from the motel bathroom, and the events of the following evening came rushing back to her, like a fallen-asleep limb regaining blood flow.
Please, be all right!
To be continued…