18:43 October 17, 2104

The Wastelands, Trafalgar, London

"Keep your guard up," Eric warned her, his face but a small square in the bottom left corner of her helm, "and your presence down."

"Yes Agent Slingby." Charlotte nodded, standing still as System ran a final diagnostic check on her armoured suit.

"The weather's settled so we're not getting many storms anymore, but the dry spell means the rotting creatures are resurfacing to feed again." The Scotsman continued. "We cleared westward last week, but North's still pretty buggered."

"Thank you for your input, Agent Slingby." The icy voice of the Director interrupted and Charlotte felt her posture stiffen. "We can handle this just fine."

"Look after my little girl." Eric ordered, and Charlotte wished to sink through the grates beneath her boots.

"She hardly needs looking after, but I will perform my duties as her Senior." William replied authoritatively. "Let's go."

The patrol moved to the first lock, cycling out three more times before reaching what was left of London. They took their usual sweep pattern, checking pathogen reading stations, radiation monitors, looking for both demonic and angelic presence.

The Director behaved as one of her regular squadmates, doing no less work than they. The Reapings were slowing down after almost a century of the Great Dying, but that made their work no less difficult and far more hazardous. Human souls left alone too long festered, deteriorated, and turned into angry things - seeking to strike and maim, to feed.

The skin of her armour fluoresced with purple and blue with electricity. "Biocloud."

The air might have appeared perfectly clear, but it was swarming with a pathogen that had alerted her suit's defenses.

And this was a normal patrol.

There were two Reaps in her schedule - from the look of Mark Lewis, the new pathogen was of the bubonic variety. He could see her, and told her to for fuck's sake please hurry. And it was too bad he couldn't see her pretty face because her tits looked spectacular.

"Not a bad way… oh, please it feels like they're on fire…" His face twisted in pain.

Snip.

For the most part, Charlotte generally did not use her Deathscythe outside of actual combat; pruning secateurs were more than ample against weakened souls in decaying bodies. The Director watched as she made the collection and reviewed the record. There was little remarkable in the life of Mark Lewis: born in London to loving mothers, moved to Los Angeles to study, built a career on hard work and perseverance, was caught up in the Pershing Square riots-

"Wait."

"Did you see-" Charlotte's throat was dry, her heart thumping loudly in her chest as her breathing quickened.

"Run it back." William ordered, though there was a waver in his voice. The squadron huddled around the rapidly cooling corpse, and Charlotte let the record run its course again.

"The Reaper- there!" Eoghan exclaimed. "He killed him! The Reaper killed the other Reaper!"

"What kind of fucking show are they running in America?" Peter scoffed.

"This matter must be investigated immediately." The Director nodded as Charlotte harvested the record and stored it in her CORVID drive. "Agent Aberdeen, you will take Agents Carnegie and Moloney with you to Los Angeles. I will have Administration send word to Dispatch. It might do well to contact Chambers Corporation and see if they have surveillance on the issue."

"Yes sir." They answered.

"You leave first light by the morrow." William sent the instructions back to the office, before turning to Charlotte. "We need to examine that record. Have Archives duplicate it and send it to my office. All of you are to meet me for a debriefing in two hours."

"Yes sir."


Stiff drinks were needed after the debriefing. They'd watched a Reaper murder one of its own kind without provocation or hesitation: it sent chills down their spine, seeing him tear out the Reaper's record and damage it irreparably. The Director concluded the case a matter of paramount importance, and issued an order to station Agents, Peter, Tiffany and Eoghan in Los Angeles to investigate the matter.

They stumbled, yelled, shouted and slurred another round of 'The Parting Glass' and Charlotte laughed until tears dotted her lashes. Mackenzie finished the song with a flourish of strumming on his guitar, earning applause all round.

"To bed with ye all!" The younger Scotsman roared. "You need to be upright for the mission tomorrow!"

"Shut it you cad, we're on a plane for hours and hours before the mission starts." The Irishman drawled before thumping the table. "We'll catch up on our sleep then!"

"Goodnight, and joy be with you all." Charlotte sang sweetly, holding up her glass for one last toast.

"Goodnight, and joy be with you all!" They chorused, clinking their glasses against hers.

She downed her glass, enjoying the pleasant buzz and flood of warmth brought on by the alcohol. She smiled at her friends, finding herself taking in their silly grins and sleepy smiles and for some reason a part of her feared for their safety in such an unstable environment as the rioting Americas.

Never you mind Charlotte, she chided herself, they'll be just fine.