William was not happy. He was rarely happy, but today he was particularly ill tempered. Yesterday he had needed to travel to the human world to pick up Grell, and William was sick of having to always clear up his messes. Of course, this time, Grell had truly screwed up. It was widely known among the Reapers that Grell Sutcliff played loosely with the rules, but it was usually excused due to him being excellent at collecting souls. But now, William didn't think Grell wasn't going to be excused this time. Honestly, what was he thinking? The trial was in ten minutes and Grell wasn't even there yet. So once again, William was the one who had to babysit him.
He found room #307 – Grell's. On the outside, it was exactly the same as every other door. William was sure the inside would be vastly different. He gave the beige door a sharp rap. No answer. "Grell. You're needed at the trial, right now. Being late would just give them another excuse to permanently suspend you."
He opened the door. It was already unlocked. The room was a complete mess, clothing all over the floor and boxes of chocolate too. Grell was lounging on a worn ruby sofa. He looked a mess. More so than usual. He hadn't taken off the human coat he had found, and his flaming red hair was tangled. He sat up suddenly, then rubbed his head. "Right now? But…I'm not ready!" Grell cried, looking at the full length mirror on the other side of the tiny room. William raised his eyebrows. "Yes, right now. Come with me to the courtroom."
Grell obliged, which surprised William. On the whole walk there, Grell didn't say a word. He looked nauseous. "Are you feeling alright, Sutcliff?" William asked coldly. Grell opened his mouth, and then scowled. "I'm fine. At least you asked." They took an elevator down, when Grell spoke again. His voice was unusually quiet. "Do you think they'll suspend me, Will?" he muttered. William took a look at his bedraggled coworker, and saw that he looked genuinely anxious. "I don't know," William replied honestly.
The doors to the courtroom were large and imposing. When they opened, the room was full but silent. As Grell walked through to the middle to take his seat alone, he looked much smaller than usual.
Three Head Reapers stood at the front, eyeing Grell as he awkwardly took a seat. "Grell Sutcliff," one of them boomed. Grell flinched. "You are put on trial for a large number of crimes against Reaper code. Firstly, you illegally modified your Death Scythe. Secondly, you offered a human strictly classified information. Finally, you killed people who were not on the to-die list. What would you say for youself?"
Grell leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "Hmph. Can't believe you're keeping a list! Bloody ridiculous." Murmurs filled the room. William watched Grell sharply, and noticed that the flamboyant reaper was gripping the edges of his seat so tightly his knuckles were white.
The board looked furious. "You're only digging yourself deeper, Sutcliff! By the disrespectful way you're acting, it's like you're begging to get yourself permanently suspended from the Grim Reaper Association! Would you care to say anything else?" shouted the man in the middle. Grell stiffened, his face very pale with a tint of green. "No," he muttered, very quietly.
"Now, William T. Spears is your current supervisor, am I correct?" the one on the left said. William stepped forward. "That is true, sir." "Do you have anything to say about Sutcliff?"
Grell stared at William. He was biting his lip so hard it looked like it was about to start bleeding. "Yes, I do," said William sternly. "While it is true that Grell Sutcliff has indeed broken the rules, he is an excellent Reaper. He has collected a vast amount of souls in his time, and while he can be reckless, I don't believe suspension is necessary."
The three board members were speaking to each other quietly, and the crowd was whispering to each other as well. Grell was staring at the floor, not daring to be hopeful yet.
"We have come to a decision," said the middle Reaper, and the room grew silent. "Grell Sutcliff, despite your crimes, your records have proven you to be a proficient Reaper. You will hereby be demoted as your supervisor deems fit, your Death Scythe will be removed, and you are no longer eligible to become a supervisor yourself. Is that clear?"
Grell opened his mouth to protest, and William glared at him. Grell closed his mouth, with a very faint eye roll in William's direction. William sighed in relief. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. "Yes, it is clear," said Grell, releasing the grip on his chair. "Very well. Please speak with your supervisor, William T. Spears directly after so he can give you instructions. Be warned that if you commit any more crimes, Grell Sutcliff, you will be suspended permanently. This meeting is adjourned."
The room grew loud as people started exiting, and Grell hurried over to William. He looked much better, color returning to his face and grinning devilishly. "Well, that went better than expected, didn't it Will?" said Grell, adjusting William's glasses flirtatiously. William moved Grell's hand away with a frown. "Meet me in my office, Grell," he said curtly before leaving. "So cold!" Grell said to himself with a grin.
William sat at his desk, reading through paperwork. He could hear Grell coming by the tapping of his heels on the wooden floor. He barged in, not bothering to knock. "Well then! That was very dull, wasn't it Will?" Grell said with a smirk, taking a seat on the other side of the desk.
"Don't act so cheerful Grell, you've been demoted. Severely." William said, pushing his glasses up the brim of his nose. "So what's my new job?" Grell asked, putting his red heels on the desk. William pushed them off without a word. "You are only to collect the souls of the elderly or ill. You are not to interact with humans or other Reapers while out on a job. You will only take the jobs that I give you."
Grell wrinkled his nose, picking at his nails. "How absolutely boring! I can do much better than that." William raised his eyebrows. "Apparently, you cannot. You may be promoted again in the future if you avoid any incidents whatsoever."
Grell scoffed. "Fine," he muttered. "But I'm going to need a Death Scythe; I can't do it with bare hands you know! And seeing as you took my lovely scythe away, you're going to need to give me a new one."
William smiled. Grell was shocked to see him smile, that obviously meant something bad was going to happen. "Yes, I do have your new Death Scythe. I was going to give you the recruit model, but I changed my mind."
On the desk, two pairs of small red scissors appeared. Grell blinked at them, confused. After a few seconds, it hit him. His eyes widened in horror. "What? What?! What the hell are these?" he cried. "How, William, do you expect me to do ANYTHING with these? I bet they take a few snips just to cut through a cinematic record! And what if I get attacked? Will I be able to defend myself? Why can't I have my old one back, it wasn't doing any harm!?"
William smirked, and began addressing every question in Grell's rant. "These are gardening shears. Don't worry, Grell, they're red. Your favorite. They will do the job fine, and seeing as you are only taking the souls of the elderly or ill, I doubt you will need to defend yourself. And your old one was indeed doing harm, you killed humans who weren't on the to die list. Don't even think about modifying these, or attempting to get back your old scythe. There will be consequences."
Grell's mouth hung open, unable to find any words. He picked up the scissors, looking them over in disgust.
"Our business is concluded, Grell. Please come find me tomorrow at 8:00am sharp for your tasks."
Grell stood up abruptly, the scissors looking shamefully small in his hands. With an overdramatic groan, he left the room, his blood red coat flying around the corner as he turned.