Anthony flinched away from the blast, but felt none of the pain he'd been expecting. He opened his eyes, half expecting to see Dominic's men in front of him, about to finish him off after the bomb hadn't gone off, but instead…
He'd never seen a desert before, not in real life, but he knew this was no normal desert. Black sand stretched out as far as the mountains on the distant horizon, glistening like shards of broken glass in the light from a black sky filled with more stars than he'd ever seen before.
He turned, taking in his surroundings, then saw the others. Dominic's soldiers who'd been in the room with him when the bomb had gone off. So. This was what death looked like. One by one, they seemed to realise what had happened, turning to each other. Anthony took a step away from them. They didn't seem to have noticed him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. These men might have been dead, but they'd hurt him before, left him begging for an end, and he didn't want to find out whether they could here. Instead of seeing him, they started arguing with each other, fighting over whose fault all this was, what had happened, why they were here.
Anthony took another few steps away from them, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and tilted his head back to look at the stars above them, a smile curving its way onto his lips. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
ANTHONY MARCONI? the words seemed to appear straight in his head, bypassing his ears entirely, but wasn't unpleasant, exactly.
"Depends who's askin'," he lowered his head and turned around, only to have to look up again.
He wasn't all that surprised at what he saw, which was pretty impressive considering the figure in front of him was a seven foot tall skeleton in a black robe with a scythe bigger than Anthony, the only signs of life the blue fire burning deep in his eye sockets.
"You're Death."
Death inclined his head. INDEED.
"So that means…" he trailed off.
YES.
Anthony nodded, then looked out across the desert again. "It's funny. Always thought there'd be some people waiting for me."
He didn't mean that in a good way. Not at all.
THERE ARE. JUST NOT HERE.
He nodded again, mostly to himself this time, satisfied with that answer. "This desert… what's at the end?"
JUDGEMENT.
Anthony had known that already, somehow, the second he'd asked.
Death waited a moment, seeing if he had any more questions, then stalked over to the group, starting to speak to them in the same tone. One by one, instead of staying where they were, or even managing to listen very long, they started off in different directions into the desert, most of them running. It was no excuse for what they'd done, Anthony knew, but most of them had just been lost kids, trying to find their place in an uncaring world, like so many others in Dominic's crew. They were still lost now, and they'd never find what they were looking for out here. He watched the final one start to venture into the desert, head sunk against his chest, feet dragging in the sand. He'd been the one to do most of the beating when Anthony had been tied to the chair, but somehow Anthony didn't really resent him for it. In this place, he looked like a scolded child, not a killer.
Anthony sighed softly, shrugged off his jacket and spread it out on the sand, then lay on it, resting on his elbows to watch the boys shrink as they got further and further away.
Death strode over to him again. AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
"Waiting."
YOU MUST WALK THE DESERT. Death said, not quite impatient but bordering on it.
"I will," Anthony frowned for the first time since he'd arrived in the desert. "Doubt I'll be waiting long."
YOU MUST WALK ALONE.
Anthony looked up at him. "Never have before."
NEVERTHELESS.
He turned back to the horizon as one of the others finally vanished. He'd never really been one for words when he was alive, there was no point changing now.
Death tilted his head. THIS IS ALL HIGHLY IRREGULAR.
Anthony shrugged and lay back, folding his hands behind his head. For now, he was content. He figured he'd earned a rest, and there were far worse places to be. Some people were worth waiting for.
Elias didn't want to open his eyes at first. It had been years since he felt like this, nothing on his back, nobody left to kill, bribe or manipulate, nothing to fight. The pain that had been a constant since Dominic had shattered his hand was gone now, as was the fresher, if brief, agony from his head. He felt… free. He hadn't thought that was possible, not for him.
He opened his eyes slowly, trying to let the feeling last as long as possible.
His surroundings were unfamiliar; he knew he'd have remembered if he'd been here before. Fine black sands at his feet, a clear, cloudless sky filled with unfamiliar stars above him. It should have been dark, but it wasn't.
The feeling, the freedom, didn't vanish. No pressure came back to his chest, no weight fell on his shoulders, but he knew where he needed to go.
He gradually became aware of a presence behind him. His shoulders tensed up. He'd hardly been a good man, and he knew what was supposed to come next.
Instead of what he'd expected, someone rested a warm, calloused hand on his shoulder, careful and familiar, like they were trying not to startle him.
"Hey, Boss."
"Anthony?"