A/N: I'M ALIVE. WOOT. Lol. Sorry I haven't updated in over a week- it's been test after test after test at school, let alone all the chores I have to do here at home to get ready for my grandpa from across the country coming to visit. Anyway- 14 REVIEWS? 8D OH. MY. GOD. That makes me really happy, thank you all so much, it means the world to me! I'm sorry to say this chapter is kinda short, but it's pretty much a transition chapter, a setup for the next one. So. I can't thank all of you who reviewed and faved/subscribed enough! I really hope you all enjoy this chapter! ^^


Chapter 4- That Reaper, Authorization

"…Wh-what?"

"I said you two act like an old married couple."

"…Yes, after that."

"Would you like a dog biscuit?"

"Wha- you never said that!"

"No, but I was going to."

I connected my palm to my forehead. "The part about the swollen lips and multiple murders happening at once!"

"Well, why do you need me to restate it if you just said it yourself?"

I groaned. This guy was impossible.

Undertaker still had that Cheshire grin plastered on his face. "The two of you. So amusing. Ah, I remember when I was your age…"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure that's a fascinating story, but we still need information…do you know who the culprit is?"

He shrugged. "Culprit? Oh, no, no, no. I only examine the dead bodies, you see. Keep track of the murders. As for the murderer them self, well…" He laughed. "Now, that's a mystery, is it not?"

Ronald sighed. "Yeah. We got assigned the case, kind of the whole reason we're here and all. Anything else you can tell us?"

Undertaker's ever-present smile stretched wider. "Specifics, little death god?"

"…No… Anything you can give us, really."

The man cocked his head thoughtfully, stroking his chin with a single unnaturally long fingernail. "Well…knowledge of the culprit and further details of the crime I know not of…however, there seems to be one small detail you two are forgetting."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I used to not only be a reaper as well, but a manager. I had access to information no one else did. And to be honest- I still do." He leaned forward. "I can't help you on your case, little death gods, however- I can tell you where the next murder will take place."


"Names?"

"Chastity Kingsley."

"Ronald Knox."

"Roland Knox?"

"Rol-? Ronald. It's Ronald. Switch the l and the n."

"Okay…occupations?"

"…Trainees, I guess?"

"Supervisors?"

"William T. Stick-up-his-butt Spears."

"Grell Sutcliff."

"Sex?"

"Yes, please. OW! God, Chas, that bloody hurt!"

"Serves you right…the blonde pervert over here is a dude and I'm a girl. It's pretty obvious- was that question really necessary?"

"Just verification."

I cast my eyes skyward in annoyance, folding my arms and leaning back against the wall, leaving the two-toned teen beside me to rub the sore spot on his arm, newly born from where I had smacked it. I glanced over at the receptionist questioning us. She adjusted her chocolate hair pulled into a tight bun as she propped her elbows up on her counter to check her nails, emotionless and mind-blowingly bored looking. Almost like a female William. "Anything other-" Stupid "-questions you'd like to ask us?"

Not even looking up, she batted her hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. "No. We got it. Go."

I scowled, biting my tongue to resist spewing out a snappy reply about her rudeness. Apparently, in order for rookies like us to be able leave the parameters of the library alone without mentor supervision, we needed to do- you guessed it- more. Bloody. Paperwork. We needed permission slips from our mentors (which literally took freaking HOURS to convince William to sign, you have no idea) as well as giving information to the front desk and we in return received tiny badges that showed that we were qualified to do so. In my point of view, it was the control freaks in charge of the branch putting leashes on us apprentice puppies and keeping tags on us at all times. Absolutely ridiculous.

The receptionist absentmindedly handed us small, golden, halo-shaped badges with pins on the back to clasp on our shirts, her gaze not leaving her all-important nails.

I unhooked mine and slid it through a small patch of the thin white fabric of my shirt, just above my vest, and smoothed it back down. Ronald did the same. I walked back to the counter. "Any special restrictions we have to follow?"

I regretted the words almost as soon as they came out of my mouth. "Yes. No alcoholic drinking, no socializing, no giving out information, no talking to suspicious strangers, no talking to non-suspicious strangers, no reaping unless authorized, no clubbing, no getting romantically involved with humans, no-"

"Can I breathe?"

"…You can breathe." The receptionist was clearly unamused.

I groaned and sorely rubbed my temple. "Geez. Why so many rules? Is this really necessary?"

"Absolutely." The receptionist boredly adjusted her glasses with the free hand not currently under inspection. "After all, we only make these rules because here in the Death God Dispatch Society, safety is our number one priority," she muttered, obviously reciting some statement she was forced to memorize and had droned out many, many times before.

I sighed, glancing at the blonde next to me. "Got that, Ronnie?"

"Mostly," he replied with a shrug, fiddling with the golden pin on his chest, not looking up.

I flicked my gaze around the room. "Grell said he'd be here."

"He's probably touching up on his lipstick or something," murmured Ronald.

I nodded in agreement, placing my hands in a fist behind my back. It took about five minutes for the scarlet reaper to show- and, as my partner had predicted, a fresh, shiny layer of red had recently been applied to his lips. "Hello, my sweeties~!"

I smiled. "Yo, Grell. You got the stuff for us like you said you would?"

"Absolutely!" he chirped. "I've never let you down before, have I?"

I remained silent, figuring this was a bad time to list all the times he's let me down before.

"For you, Knoxie-poo-" I burst into laughter. Knoxie-poo? That was a new one. He held out a crisp, clean night black tuxedo to Ronald, newly pressed and neatly in a clear plastic bag. "It's a shame it's black, it's such a dull color- except when it's Bassy, of course. I still think it'd look far more pretty in red, but I don't really have a say in this."

Ronald grunted with annoyance at the new nickname, but took the tux from Grell's grip into his own. "Thanks."

Grell grinned and nodded eagerly. "Of course!" He pinched Ronald's cheeks, causing the blonde to cringe and flinch.

Ronald looked at me. "And her?"

"Oh, Chassy, of course! I got to choose yours myself!"

I'm screwed.

"It's cute, sweet, adorable, and fabulously, FABULOUSLY red!"

I'm really screwed.

I whimpered. "Oh God."

Grell frowned. "What? What's the matter?"

"Grell…please tell me it isn't a-"

"IT IS~! And it's beautiful! When you're done wearing it for the night, darling, would you mind giving it to me? Considering you wouldn't want it anyway."

Now it was Ronald's turn to laugh and me to glare. "Shut up, Knoxie-poo."

"Chassy! Don't use my nicknames! They're…mine!" Grell pouted.

I sighed. "Grell. I'm not. Wearing. It."

"You have to, though!"

"I hereby rebel."

He clasped his fingers together and tucked them under his chin, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. "Oh, come on, Chassy, I picked it especially for you!"

"No way in hell!"

Grell smiled. "Well, you're not gonna be in hell, so it shouldn't be a problem!"

He held out his arms.

…No way was I wearing that red monstrosity which took the name of a dress.


A/N: The dress isn't bad, she just hates dresses in general. XD Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! (Ronnie you little playboy...) I'll get the next one up as soon as I can, though that might be difficult with my grandpa coming in on Sunday. Oh well. Enjoi~