"Kill it, Spears!"
Shouts and voices rang throughout the now crowded hallway. Blood marked the marble floor, the amount of crimson making it difficult for anyone to move from their spot without slipping. Not that anyone was trying to move, really. They were an audience in a final showdown. The last curtain call.
A redhead was currently the middle of the everyone's attention. She laid face down on the cold floor, her black gloved hands covering her head.
She wasn't fighting.
If there was one thing William T. Spears had learned from the insufferably loud, obnoxious reaper, was that she refused to be shown up. She would certainly not tolerate being embarrassed, or put down, including by the supervisor of her affections. This more than contradicted the sight before him, the reaper on the floor now tensed, as if waiting for the final blow.
William's blood pumped in his ears, the only sound he was hearing was the tightening of his own glove on the long scythe he owned.
The crowd grew. Members of his own sector had arrived. Ronald watched wide-eyed between the two former partners, the red-faced Director that was still screaming at Spears, and the blood that led to one dead General Affairs worker. Her light brown hair was only accompanying a large chainsaw gash in the back of her head, her green eyes frozen open in time. Was that-
"Spears! Go on!"
Yet another yell urged the dark haired supervisor. One from his own dispatch, at that. It surprised him that people so formally close to the redhead were now turning against her. Was killing a member of the dispatch the final straw? But the General Affairs worker had been taunting the murderer for a while now. All the built up anger from being on probation must have drove her, understandably-
No! This was it. Actions had consequences, and this action was forcing William to kill someone who cared about him more than anybody ever had.
His glove tightened again.
"Spears! Now! Or I'll do it my bloody self!"
William shut his eyes. Opening them again to see a single green orb looking up at him through hidden arms. He saw something in that eye that he hadn't seen before in her.
Fear.
She was afraid. He wondered to himself what was going through her mind at that moment. Was she thinking that he would save her? Or, more logically, as her muscles were tightened, was she waiting for the final blow? The supervisor wanted to ask why she wasn't fighting back. He knew what she was capable of. More often than not, she had taken down her opponent. Surely, she could find a getaway from here before William was forced to kill her.
But, she stayed.
The Director yelled his last threat. William composed himself, his thumb pressing on the small button that extended his scythe. It opened, the razor sharp ridges inside glittering. He noticed her eyes close again.
He held his breath, the scythe extended.
Grell Sutcliff let out a wail, her voice cracking as the blood splattered her audience's faces and suits. Right through her chest. The fastest, least painful death her partner could think of. Her eyes locked on the supervisor for the last time, her body freezing in an ending that even the dramatic reaper would label as less than superb.
The crowd erupted into appreciative cheer.