My name is the Reaper Datum. I have come to your world to play a game between good and evil, if you accept; know that your life will never be the same and that you may never go to Heaven or Hell. If that doesn't suit you, pass this letter on to someone whom it does suit. This is not a game for the faint of heart. I have heard the souls of Humans can be tainted in a way that only a Reaper would ever understand. Now understand me. I will visit you soon. Sincerely the Reaper Datum
The letters were dropped carefully into the streets signaling out those whom it called to. The envelopes had a rather mysterious 'To Whom Possesses this Letter' on the covers in gold leafing. It was all very fancy and even terrifying since the rain that poured down avoided the letter and fell in a square around it. The letter was a page of the Death Note of Datum himself.
Datum watched the two letters from a perch on top of a small coffee house filled with college students and eager business people. It wasn't long before a young man approached, his hair wet and battered from the gales and droplets saw the wonder, didn't touch the letter, but stood above it in the dry square and washed off his hair.
Turning his gaze up, he watched the irregularity carefully before looking down to notice the white envelope with gold lettering. He bent down and grasping it with his right hand read it quickly than flipped it over. He stuck a finger under the flap and loosened and pulled the letter out. He read it, a smiling churning across his face in a wicked march.
"Can't go to Heaven or Hell…" He said quietly. 'Useful,' ran across his brain instantly. Datum moved out of sight and hovered around the other letter so he couldn't be seen. He did however glance at the boys name so he could later find him in the phone book.
Datum hovered outside the home of Martha and William Gooding. The couple of twenty-five years has one son, a college student named John, the current owner of one page of a death note. Landing on the red shingled rooftop, Datum leaned over the ease troth and looked into the window to see John sleeping quietly under a quilt. Datum turned his head and 'awed' at the cuteness and began laughing. John stirred at the noise and Datum slapped a hand over his mouth.
"John Gooding, you have been chosen to carry a Death Note. You will play the side of evil in my games. Remember this voice in your dreams and hear me when you read this letter and open this Note." Datum said speaking to the sleeping teen. Datum set down the Death Note, the book was a flat notebook with a simple black cover and on the front 'Death Note' was written in the same gold style as the letter. On top of that Datum placed a letter, open and flapping in the wind. Upon both he placed rocks.
Datum stood up on the roof looking into the moon and seeing the beauty in the light. "This pathetic world is neat…" He unfurled his large bronze and tattered wings to carry him away into the night.
The letter was opened, read and laughed at. John Gooding sat at his desk chair and re-read the ridiculous note that was left for him. "A notebook that can kill people? How stupid!"
John read the letter again and recognized the name John Satchel. John Satchel was a local hero, not only for saving a woman who's baby's stroller got caught up in the subway, but he was a good singer too. He performed at local pubs and earn his living that way. John Gooding laughed again and began to read the letter aloud.
"Congratulations, John Gooding. You have been chosen to play the evil in my game. I am very excited to hear this, and happily, I have come up with another little condition. You must use fire to kill. It's easy, write a name in the Death Note and quickly afterwards write caught on fire. Anything you write about details is up to you, but follow this important rule. Read the rules of the Death Note and abide by them as well. Most importantly don't get caught by good. If you find out who good is, kill them.
"Now I want you to do something for me. Kill John Satchel. Just write John Satchel, Caught on fire. Datum the Reaper." John laughed again and took a deep breath before opening the Death Note and scribbling the words down. He added a little something at the end 'will run down Brewery St. Ablaze'.
John went up to his window and stared out, the street empty. He made a groaning noise upset that it wasn't happening. He turned away for a second and stared at the notebook. He picked up his pencil and added and additional 'Immediately.' It was then he heard a scream from down the street. He opened the window quickly, his head smiling as he looked outside.
John Satchel was on fire running down the street of Brewery, on fire. He collapsed on the street and began rolling around. Gooding watched as the movements slow, he could feel it then his power over life and death. John smiled and came back inside to sit down at his desk and continue writing in the note. "Say goodbye to life, you hypocrites."
Parliament that morning was quiet as Lord Christopher Ava was walking down the steps into his expensive and large car. He had just stopped by the office to pretend to do official business. He stopped just before the car and smelled smoke. He lifted his head and sniffed the air; his eyes glanced over to a stream of smoke coming from the driver's side.
"Must be having a smoke." He said and opened the door. The oxygen rushed in and the fire erupted instantly consuming Christopher Ava, the driver and the car, a few seconds later the gas tank followed leaving a fiery Hell behind in the wake of a few words from a teen-aged boy.
'Christopher Ava, death by burning. When he leaves parliament and opens the car door, the fire caused by his driver's cigarette will explodes, consuming them both.'
"Jack the Ripper cleaned up London once." John said in class defending the killings. "Maybe it was the only way he saw could work. Maybe the cops were a little crooked and allowed prostitution. Who knows, but it made the streets clean."
"Interesting theory as always from Mr. Gooding." The teacher said and turned a page in his book and then looked up. "Who would like to take on his theory?"
Suddenly the door opened wider then it already was and a small little girl in pink high top shoes and a bright green dress walked in. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like too."
"Ah, miss Silva, our American exchange student late for her first day." She giggled and smiled. The teacher gave her and welcoming hand and she shook it and took a seat near the front. "So, you're hear to argue Mr. Gooding's case about jack the Ripper."
"Jack the Ripper was a murder. He killed for the sake of killing. Even if we looked at it as he was 'cleaning the streets' isn't it enough to say he killed several woman and that would make him evil? Anyway, I bet if Mr. Gooding wasn't getting laid, he wouldn't mind taking a girl home." She said smartly.
The class erupted into laughter as John sat foreword and stared at her. "It isn't a matter of getting some, if the principals of ethics. Those women are degenerates and deserve to be killed. If they're willing to sell their body at a price why not just get rid of it all together. Or would you have a problem committing suicide?"
"Enough!" The teacher said quickly. He looked at the both of them and took a deep breath. "You two, debate team meeting at four today. Participation is a good way to make up for this destructive communications."
The two turned to each other. Miss Silva glared at him, the sourness on her face clear. John laughed and began chewing on his pencil as he relaxed accepting the inevitable. He would have to beat her with plain arguing.