The Undertaker grinned after sending his winged friend out to scout for him. He offered the raven a scrap of meat from the butcher's block that he was using to preparing his meal, and he sent it on its way. The bird flew out the window of the cottage, leaving him alone to finish preparing his dinner. "Nicely handled, if I do say so myself."
Of course, nothing said he really needed reinforcements just yet. He might be able to take care of things all on his lonesome. Centuries of experience—and the scars to mark them—had taught him that it was best to be prepared and not need something than be unprepared and wish he had it. He returned his attention to his cooking, and he whistled off-tune to himself. He'd lain a perfect trail for the two Dispatch agents to follow, and yet he'd done so in a way as to not make it terribly obvious it was deliberate.
"Never hurts to have a pawn or three to toss in the mix," he reasoned aloud. "Pity though...I rather like those chaps."
The sound of screaming from the other room gave him pause, and he rolled his two-toned eyes in exasperation. "If you're going to keep yelling like that," he called out, "I might have to add your tongue to the list of dinner ingredients...so shut it!"
The poor bloke tied up in the parlor kept screaming—either because he couldn't comprehend English or because he was still lamenting the loss of his right ear. Either way, it was grating on the Undertaker's nerves. The ancient reaper stabbed his butcher knife into the chopping block and traipsed over to the kitchen's exit, shaking his shaggy silver bangs aside to glare at his dinner guest.
"I know your hearing's compromised, but how's a body to concentrate on cooking with you making all that noise? Shut your hole before I—"
Whatever threat he'd been about to issue to the captive soldier got rudely interrupted by the wall in his temporary kitchen suddenly exploding. He barely had time to throw his hands up to protect his scar-slashed face before the mortar and stone of the structure went flying like so much strewn rubble. The heat of the fire from said explosion singed his hair and gave him an interesting sensation of being partially baked for a moment...and then the ruckus died down. He could hear the roar of an aircraft passing overhead, and he stepped through the new, gaping hole in the wall to look up at the sky. His nose crinkled and he made a face at the blurry shape of the plane passing over his area.
"Bloody humans and their explosives," he complained. He turned to look back into the kitchen with a lamenting expression on his ghost-white face. His potatoes were all baked now; but not in the way he would have preferred. They were literally all over the place—as were the carrots. "Spoiled my dinner. Ah, bugger."
"Hya!" Ronald grunted as he finished cutting through a lesser demon who had gotten in their way. He and William got the clear to pursue Undertaker, but they still had their quota of collections to make each day.
William was collecting, and he was standing guard—good thing, too, as a group of demons had shown up looking for an easy meal. But Ronald proved more than a match for the five imps.
"Coast is clear again!" he called over to William as he jogged over to his watch post.
William checked his pocket watch and nodded. "Well done, Knox. We are making record time." He glanced around with a suspicious air at their surroundings. They were currently somewhere near Leipzig, but now he was turned around. He pulled out the GPS and turned it on, narrowing his eyes at the screen. He turned and squinted at their present location, trying to match up the coordinates.
"Just where in the hell are we?" he muttered, perplexed. They'd passed through Leipzig and they were following the trail in a southern direction, but he was disoriented. He didn't see any small towns or villages on the map that aligned with their current location.
"Dude, you would know better than me." Ron shrugged, falling in next to William and looking over his shoulder, "Hey—the map's up-side-down." he turned the map, though that didn't help them discover their location, "...I think..."
William pulled the navigator out of Ronald's grasp, more miffed at himself than at his companion. "How ridiculous. I was raised not far from here. Granted, it was on the reaper side..."
He trailed off in frustration, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. He wondered if they should stop and ask for directions, but the only settlements nearby were practically in ruins. Any remaining residents weren't likely to speak to a pair of SS officers, regardless of citizen affiliation. Civilians wanted nothing more to do with this war.
He thought of his own words about being raised in the reaper dimension here, and he sighed and closed his eyes. "Oh, honestly."
He'd somehow managed to set the navigation data to their realm, rather than the mortal one. Of course the settlements wouldn't match up. Embarrassed by the lapse, he changed the settings back to mortal Earth and he waited for it to re-calculate.
"Wait." Ronald's eyes widened and his lips split into an amused grin, "Did we have that thing set to the wrong realm?! We did!" He laughed, leaning against William, his arm hooked over the man's shoulders, "Man, maybe we need a break from this whole thing. Hospitalized breaks clearly aren't enough to refresh our minds."
William was still mortified by his mistake. "It was a simple error. Now, let's see..." He re-calibrated the device so that it was attuned to the mortal realm again, and he turned in place as he familiarized himself with the landscape. "Yes, this is much better. We should find a settlement two miles this way, where we shall be able to refresh and investigate for further signs that might keep us on the right track. We can't afford to let the trail go cold, Ronald. I would even venture to say that tracking down the Undertaker for some answers has been less hazardous to our health than gathering the records of the dead and dying."
"Less demon problems, at least." Ronald shrugged. He didn't care which job they worked on. He was just ready for the war to end so that they could return home to London. However, there was no end in sight, even when looking at the constantly updating to-die list. "I don't like the fact he's making them stupid dolls again. I hated dealing with them the first time! I'd say if we end up fighting him, I'll take him if you take the dolls...but that'd be stupid. He's way outta my league. He'd wipe the floor with my ass within seconds."
William began to walk in the direction to the next settlement, trusting Ronald to keep pace with him. "Should we end up in a physical confrontation with the Undertaker again, I assure you I've no intention of going without backup. Much as it pains me to say it, I would fair little better than you against that reaper. I doubt there exists a single agent in Dispatch alive today that could match him one-on-one. Our only hope would be to overwhelm him with numbers and pray to Death we could subdue him before he takes down too many of us. However, he had the opportunity to kill Sutcliff and Jeffries, yet he did not take it."
William paused in thought, a frown curving his lips. "Odd. Now that I think of it, this wouldn't be the first time he's bested Dispatch agents and yet did not reap them. One could even argue that my own injury during our last encounter was my own fault. He did warn me not to attempt to follow."
He looked sidelong at his companion. "Some might say I admire the man too much for my own good, Ronald, and yet I wonder; is it that I fail to see him clearly, or is it that my instincts are simply...correct?"
"He's a scary guy. Took on me, Grell, and that demon-Sebas-chan or whatever. Though that stupid demon got in the way more than he helped. But still. Undertaker bested the three of us at once. And as annoying as Grell can be, he's a seriously good field agent. He knows how to fight, and he does a kick-ass job at it. But even he fell to Undertaker." Ronald shrugged as he followed and made a little skipping motion over a large root protruding from the ground.
"Honestly, to me, he's just a crazy old guy who is too strong for my liking. I know he's famous and crap. I know he did amazing work before retirement...but I don't quite get people's fascination and admiration with him—particularly yours since I think you look up to him more than anyone I have ever seen. Hell, at first I thought you were as in love with the man as Grell is in love with the color red and any hot guy he sees. I was a little jealous of him for that..."
The blond shook his head and continued, "But then again, it may be because my generation never got to see his work before he retired. All I have ever seen of him is his crazy retired self, slinking around dead bodies. He's not really the same guy, ya know? I mean, no way would a working reaper be that giggly and uncontrollable. But he has the same experience and talents of the guy in our history books. It makes him dangerous. But...he, at least I hope, still has a respect for dispatch agents...maybe that is why he hasn't killed any of us when we all know he easily could do so. He ran away instead of taking you and I out. And no one would be the wiser."
William nodded, and then he resumed walking. "Ronald, though his methods seem completely mad to us, I honestly don't believe he is an enemy to Dispatch...yet. It seems each time we've had an unpleasant encounter with him; it has been because we have 'gotten in his way'. Of what I still have no idea, but there are undeniable assets to having such a reaper on our side, with everything that has been happening. I intend to approach this matter with diplomacy. Failing that, at least we've discerned that he may know who or what is truly behind this recent string of oddities. Even if he cannot be won to our side, he does seem to have leads that we lack...and we could use that to our advantage."
"So you think it's not really him making the records go blank?" Ron asked, still having his doubts about it. Undertaker was the only one he knew of who knew how to play with and alter records...apart from Angels, but when an angel did so there were tell-tale signs of it. Bits would be burned out if they were careful enough not to burn up the entire soul.
"The Undertaker's...habits...aren't known to wipe out records entirely," reasoned William. He frowned and looked at his feet, pausing with a sigh. "He uses those records to re-animate the dead. Ronald...there is something I haven't yet shared with you. It's quite personal. I...must admit that I haven't shared this with anyone...though it is in my personal files within Dispatch."
"Oh?" Ronald tilted his head, a small frown tugging his lips, "That worries me. He didn't do anything to you, did he? Experiments, I mean." He knew William had been in Dispatch a long time before he'd even been born. There was many things about William and the older reapers that he didn't know.
"No, nothing of the sort," assured William with a shake of his head. He sighed and he glanced up at the sky, casting his memory back in time to when he was a fresh young agent like Ronald; training under a man that was practically legendary among his kind. "The Undertaker...was once my mentor. I trained under him. So you see, my admiration and respect is a bit more personal than most realize."
"You mean, you were his apprentice? Like how I'm Grell's? I never heard of him taking on a junior before. No, you have to tell me what it was like!" Ron said, sprinting a few paces in front of William as they walked and turning around so that he was walking backwards. He didn't have as much respect for the man as older reapers did, but Undertaker was still a huge name in their realm.
William smirked without humor. "It was...intimidating. The Undertaker was a very different reaper, back then. Before the madness and his subsequent retirement, he simply went by Death...and he was absolutely brilliant."
He sighed and took his glasses off to clean the lenses with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. "Perhaps even too brilliant, if things I overheard from our superiors were any indication. He found loopholes through every restriction they placed on him. Unsurprising, really. He might be insane, but the Undertaker is extremely clever and calculating. That has not changed in all these years. At any rate, you wish to know what it was like being mentored by him? It was rather like being taken under the wing of my childhood hero. When I discovered I was to be his apprentice, I felt such joy...such excitement...and such terror."
William huffed a soft laugh at the memory of how he'd quaked in his shoes on his first day of training with the silver reaper. "You would not have recognized me, I'm afraid. I was absolutely petrified when I approached him in the library for our first day of training. I couldn't seem to get any coherent words out, I was stammering so much. He looked up at me with this frown on his face, and he asked if I'd been hit on the head. 'Speak up, boy. I don't bite...hard.'"
William chuckled again, but the sound was soon lost as he sobered. "And then he left to fight a war against demons. They were encroaching on our realm through a tear in the veil between the worlds. I was still in training and so was not permitted to be at his side. He was gone for nearly a year, and I have no idea what horrors he must have seen, but he wasn't the same when he returned. In addition to the fresh scars marring his body, his outlook had changed...and he began talking to himself."
William picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it absently. "Arguing, really. It was as if he'd split his personality in half and become two people, in order to cope with whatever he'd been through. Death had been through more than one mortal war in his lifetime, but this conflict between reapers and demons was what finally broke him. I asked him to open up to me, to tell me about his experiences. Dispatch sent him to counseling as well, once it became evident to them that he was sinking deeper into his madness. He lasted for perhaps four months, before he finally put aside his glasses and opted to retire."
"They didn't tell us which war it was that caused him to loose it and leave dispatch..." Ron muttered, "But they did tell us horror stories of that war. Some of us students had nightmares after that class. But they said we had to be ready for anything when it comes to demons in large numbers...know when to fight or run." He shrugged off the thought and fell back into step with William.
"But I never imagined you being able to be intimidated like that. But then again, I didn't expect to be nervous myself the first time going out on a reap with Grell...he has such an intimidating reputation for field work, after all, and I didn't know if I'd come close to impressing him, or if he'd decide I'm not worth his time and effort. -Actually, I thought I blew it since shortly after he disappeared on me for weeks while he ran around with that human woman in secret... Man, that was such an awkward time after he got caught."
He was rambling. Again he shook his spiel to the side and got back on topic, "But, before he retired...did he teach you any neat moves?"
William smirked at the younger reaper's enthusiasm. "You have seen me fight, Ronald. Some of those moves were indeed taught to me by the Undertaker. However, I daresay I've yet to meet a reaper that could rival him in terms of grace in combat. I've attempted to emulate that elegance of movement, but I've never quite mastered it. The one thing I believe I have mastered from his teachings is to be one with my scythe. He always taught me that a reaper is only as good as his bond with his reaping tool, and I took it to heart...so much that I slept with it each night, never letting it out of my sight."
He glanced down at the weapon as he spoke, lifting it and giving it a brief, easy spin with one hand. "Honestly, I was rather obsessive with my training."
Ronald frowned, looking down at his old training scythe attached to his belt like it had been when he was a student and before he'd 'upgraded' to his new model. In truth, he'd been comfortable with his training scythe, he enjoyed using it, and he'd only really upgraded to a lawn mower to impress people...and Grell who had insisted that a scythe that stood out was a scythe worth fame and remembrance. And though he'd grown very good at wielding such a weapon, he had found it all too easy to fall back to his training scythe during this war. He'd used his mower for far more years, but, when he thought about it, he only had ever brought it out for reaping. But this scythe...he'd been so proud when he'd received it-earned the right to wield it. He hadn't gone anywhere without it until he had replaced it. It was on his belt, ready and trustworthy while he ate, worked, and spent time out having fun. It sat on his bedside table at night, and it had even been in on the bathroom counter with his glasses when he showered.
He'd formed a connection with it that he lacked with his mower. He even had constant problems with maintaining the mower. It was always getting clogged or the motor would seize up on him mid-fight. He realized he didn't trust it the way he did his old one.
Perhaps... He should switch back. Though his training scythe could use a nice upgrade in the looks-department. A slightly longer handle, perhaps, as well. Showing off was good and fun, but maybe Will was right. Having a scythe he'd bonded with and can trust would make the job less reckless and dangerous. How many times had he been hurt by a demon or angel because his mower had gotten something caught in the gears?
"Only as good as the bond, huh?" he muttered, touching the wooden handle of his training scythe.
Switching back was sounding like a good idea... Plus, he wasn't single anymore. He had William to worry over his safety. He was sure it'd ease the man's worries if he knew Ron was out with a trusted scythe.
"That was what he taught me," agreed William with a nod. Noticing the pensive way Ronald was looking at his old scythe, he paused and he assumed he was missing his lawnmower. "You made a good choice, deciding to bring that in place of your mower. I understand how proud you are of your modified scythe, but this is not an ordinary mission we are on. However this ends, you will be back to using your customized scythe again once we return to business as usual."
"Nah," Ronald shook his head, "That one was more for my vanity than anything. I was just reflecting on how I feel a stronger bond with this old one than my newer one. I never thought about the bond between a reaper and his scythe before." He looked up. "Maybe, it'd be better if I just upgraded this one a bit when I get the time. My Mower is so high maintenance and it still breaks down on me in the middle of a fight."
"I never thought I would hear you admit that," observed William with a little smirk. "I thought you were surely in love with that mower. Well, when all is said and done and we return to our home Dispatch, I'll be certain to give you clearance for modification on the scythe you carry now, if that is your wish."
He looked around with a frown, his senses picking up on the stench of death. William pointed at a run down cottage at the bend in the road up ahead, and he clutched his scythe. "For now, we have other matters to attend. This way, Ronald. I suspect we'll find more victims to collect from—provided they even have intact records."
He resumed his trajectory and he was again stricken with the suspicion that the Undertaker was laying a deliberate trail for them. Either that, or whomever was responsible for these empty records just happened to be laying a trail for Undertaker, and he and Ronald just happened to be following them both. He didn't bother telling the younger reaper to be on alert; by now he trusted Ronald to know that without being prompted.
Ronald blushed slightly, and was going to respond but he dropped it when William pointed to the cottage. Now wasn't the time for extensive idol chatting. They were on the job and had work to finish.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out their list, flipping to the new updated page. He gave a nod. "New names on our list," he confirmed. "Let's go before they get wiped clean."
"Agreed." William readied his scythe as they rounded the bend, and he went into the cottage first. He found an imp trying to feed on one of the three deceased mortals within, and he immediately extended his pole scythe to lance it through the shoulder. The creature shrieked in surprise and pain, somehow managed to extract itself from the weapon, and it turned around to stare at the two interlopers with big yellow eyes. Upon recognizing what Spears and Knox were, the demonling immediately dissipated in a puff of brimstone and smoke before William could go for a second attack.
"Pests," muttered the Dispatch supervisor with a sneer. He retracted his pole and he wiped the bloodied end of it off on the worn rug. He nodded at Ronald and then he approached the female in the small parlor, whilst pulling out his catalogue book. He read through the recent names and matched hers to one of them before beginning.
Her records were empty. With a sigh, William turned to speak to Ronald. The younger reaper had gone to the old man propped in the corner with several bullet wounds riddling his torso. "What is the status on yours, Knox?"
"One-second-ah-ha, there you are," He said, checking over their list for his page. With the go-ahead, he took up his scythe with a bit more flair than he usually gave his old scythe, twirling it in his fingers as he brought it up from his belt and he brought it down to release the man's records for collection.
He paused a moment, the records bursting forth; blank. No—not completely blank. Something was playing, very faintly like ghosts of the memories of his childhood.
Ronald cocked an eyebrow, "Looks like the guy who's been wiping clean records all over the war-zone was in a rush to get out of here. This one has been wiped clean, but not completely. Maybe it'll hold some clues?" he reported, quickly collecting what he could.
"If Undertaker is going after this guy, maybe he interrupted?"
William rubbed his chin in thought. "Yes, that is a distinct possibility. I shall check the third body. Finish gathering what remains of those records whilst I see if there is anything left in this other fellow's records."
He went over to the man by the hearth and he made the necessary cut to obtain the reels. As soon as he saw them, he knew the danger. The reels went straight to the end and suddenly, he was looking at an image of his old mentor, grinning maniacally.
"Oh hells," William had time to say, before the "corpse" opened its eyes and jerked upright. William backed off immediately and spun his scythe, prepared to bring it down as quickly as possible. He was given pause when the Bizarre Doll opened his mouth and spoke in a course, stammering voice.
"N-North," said the doll, staggering to its feet and pointing at William jerkily.
A bit more shaken than he cared to admit, William regarded the animated cadaver warily. "What is north?" He felt foolish, standing there talking to a creature that by all rights shouldn't even exist. He wasn't even sure it could comprehend his question, and he kept himself between the doll and Ronald, on guard for an attack.
"W-W-Wolfsburg," answered the doll, a line of drool dangling from his blue lips. "Y-your...p-p-prey went...there."
The doll then opened its mouth wide and started to advance on William, evidently overcome by its instinctive hunger, now that it had given the message to him. William cursed and extended his pole to drive it back, pinning it against the hearth. He narrowed his eyes and spoke over his shoulder to his companion as the doll flailed in a weirdly disjointed fashion, still trying to reach for him.
"It seems the Undertaker left us a rather blatant clue. This one is weak and in a greater state of deterioration than the others we've seen. I daresay the Undertaker hastily created it for the specific purpose of sending us the message. Writing notes doesn't appear to be his style anymore."
"You should have aimed for the head." Ronald said, finishing his job and glancing at the reanimated corpse. He was glad he hadn't gone to that one. He wouldn't have been able to stay so calm. "The only way to make them stop trying to eat people is to destroy the brain, from my experience."
The Bizarre Doll was reaching for the two reapers, its mouth hanging open, dead eyes staring deep into their souls, it felt like. Not seeming to feel pain, it jerked forward and started sliding along the long pole of William's scythe, leaving blood on each inch behind it.
"I hope the message is over because I'm taking this chance," Ron said, hurrying forward and lifting his scythe. The doll turned it's attention to him and reached for him as he drew closer, but just as his fingers touched Ronald's uniform, Ron's scythe cut through the back of his scull, sending the doll collapsing to the floor like the corpse he should have stayed.
"So, do we head North?"
William put one foot on the chest of the vanquished doll and withdrew his scythe from its decaying body with a grimace of disgust. "Yes. I must caution that this could easily be some mad game of the Undertaker's, but there still exists something of the reaper I once knew in him. I'm inclined to believe that there is a chance he's inviting us to ally with him, strange though his methods are."
He looked at Ronald, and a flicker of emotion manifested in his gaze. "I must find out if my gut feeling is right, Ronald. Should it be correct, then we stand a much better chance of solving this issue with his assistance and perhaps...just perhaps...I can..."
He looked away and compressed his lips. This was a thing he never discussed with anyone. His own father had been so aloof through most of his life. He couldn't exactly say that the Undertaker—his hero—had filled that gap, but it was the closest thing to a father figure he'd had since joining Dispatch. He shook his head and schooled his face into the usual stoic mask and he wiped off his scythe.
"Good work, Mr. Knox. Let us make our way to the settlement mentioned by the doll. With any fortune, we'll get more answers there."
"Perhaps you can...what?" Ronald frowned, slightly concerned over the return of his last name from the man. They were alone, after all. They could speak familiarly.
William seemed distracted by his thoughts again.
"Are you feeling alright?"
William blinked, shaking himself out of it. He tried for Ronald's benefit to allow the mask to slip again, revealing a hint of affection as he looked at him. "Yes...yes, of course. I was over thinking, I suppose."
He began to walk out of the cottage, needing to get away from the stench of decay and blood. When Ronald joined him outside, he looked at the path ahead pensively. "Ronald, when Sutcliff went rogue during the Ripper situation, how did it personally affect you? If there were a way that you personally could have 'saved' your mentor from his madness, would you have done it?"
Ronald bit his lower lip and looked down as he thought on the questions, "I felt...rejected." he admitted, "I was still so green back then. I'd only worked under his guidance for a month and a half before he started that mess. I thought he'd deemed me unworthy of his guidance. One day he and I worked together, then the next he started standing me up. He stopped taking me out on collections, he stopped making sure I was doing my paperwork. I was left completely alone, and I had to beg other senior reapers to make time to take me out on my collections before it was too late to collect them."
He shook his head. "I tried to talk to Grell one evening when I caught him hurrying out of his office. It-didn't work that well, and the rejection hurt...but I was also worried about him. He had said something...odd before he ran out on me again. So, I followed him. I watched him change into that disguise he used, I saw him meet up with that woman, and I saw them take that woman off the streets. I heard her screams. And...I knew I was in over my head with him."
He took a shaky breath. "You discovered him and brought him in when it all ended, everyone knows that...but...You only found him out because of the letter I slipped into your inbox. I didn't want to rat out my mentor, ya know? But I had to do something. So I did so anonymously. Just in time, too. I heard that demon would have killed him had you not shown up when you did. But afterwards when he'd been suspended he was so livid at you... I couldn't bring myself to admit that I had been the one to send you after him. But it was the only thing I could do to save him from his madness. Even if, I'm sure, if he found out what I did he would have abandoned me completely. He's a vengeful guy, after all..."
Ronald fell silent, waiting for William's reaction.
William considered what he'd just been told, and he nodded as they began walking the road north. "Yes, rejected. That makes perfect sense, and Sutcliff did not do right by you at all. Even though the Undertaker was an outstanding mentor to me up until the day he had to leave and go off to war, I felt rejected when he went rogue, as well. I believe it must be natural to feel a sense of personal betrayal when one you look up to and admire abandons not just you, but the organization you've both pledged yourself to."
He looked sidelong at Ronald with a faint little smirk. "And next time, you ought to consider typing such letters. I recognized your handwriting and I knew it was you that placed it in my inbox. I chose not to say anything, because as a reaper who has experienced something of what you must have been going through, I rather empathized. You did the right thing by turning him in, Ronald. Had you not done it, he might have gone on until he was past the point of no return."
William sighed and looked off into the distance, up ahead of them. "I can only hope that is not the case for my old mentor."
"If you knew it was me, why'd you ask if I'd do whatever I could for Grell back then? You already knew I did." Ronald asked, his cheeks heating over his mistake of hand-writing the letter on his napkin rather than taking the time to load his work-issued typewriter with a fresh sheet of paper.
He glance sidelong at William. "Undertaker is a madman, there is no way anyone can deny that, but...if we can trust him on what he told us...He's not behind this mess. He's not too far gone."
William grimaced. Why indeed? "I...suppose I asked because had we been unable to detain Grell and bring him in, he might now be similar to the Undertaker. I was inquiring for your perspective. Imagine this scenario: We never caught Grell and he went on to be a rogue indefinitely. Say he continued stirring up trouble, but then a situation arose similar to this one in which you had the opportunity to ally with him and then either put him out of his misery, or bring him in for a last chance to obtain the help he needs."
William allowed his mask to drop again as he looked Ronald in the eyes. "What would you do, Ronald? Could you kill him if you had to?"
It wasn't like William T. Spears to be uncertain, but this war had shown him things he'd never seen before—along with a different side of himself that he'd thought long buried.
Again, Ronald bit his lip. "I don't know," he admitted. "Back then, he and I hadn't gotten to know each other much. He was my mentor, but he hadn't exactly embraced me yet. That happened after he got off his suspension and I was able to return to him rather than hop around from temp mentor to temp mentor. I don't know if our bond was strong enough then that had he not returned to dispatch..."
The blond sighed, "If that had happened, and right now we were dealing with him rather than the old man...I don't think I would have cared either way. Whichever was easier. But..."
He snapped his gaze back up, firmly meeting William's uncertain one, "If Grell were to ever go rouge again, I would avoid killing him as much as I could. Try to bring him back to Dispatch and the Council."
William nodded, and some of the tension relaxed from his muscles. "I see. Well then, let us hope a peaceful solution can be obtained with the Undertaker, whenever this is all finished."
Inwardly he dreaded a final confrontation with his mentor. Though he came off as self-assured and aloof, he wasn't arrogant enough to presume he was even close to a match for his mentor. In fact, William was sure deep in his bones that such a confrontation would be the end of him, should it come down to a death match between himself and the Undertaker. It would certainly take more than himself to take the legendary reaper down, but he had hopes—perhaps foolish hopes—that Undertaker would stay his hand and listen to him, rather than cut him down.
They kept moving to their next destination, finally hitching a ride with a passing Nazi convoy on the way with the excuse that they'd gotten separated from their regiment and needed a ride to Wolfsburg.
Wolfsburg was a busy city with a higher amount of military traffic and security. The city was being used as a productions base. Manufacturing military vehicles, aircraft, and other equipment being used in the war.
Needless to say, they didn't want the Allies to infiltrate the city and be free to sabotage production. This forced William and Ronald to further play their parts, having to sign in and speak to the command center of the city before they were granted the freedom to move around and go about their "official business".
Ronald's eyes widened, "Now this is a part of the war I could enjoy! Look at that one!" he pointed at a fighter plane being fitted with its front propeller. "Oh man, it'd be sweet to learn how to fly one of them things! I've always wanted to, ya know? Ever since word of the Wright Brothers' success came! I wonder why us reapers never thought of developing a way to fly..."
"Concentrate, Ronald," interrupted William, barely hiding his smirk of amusement. "We are here on a purpose. The sight-seeing can wait for a better time."
His eyes shifted left and right, ever alert for the threat of an ambush or signs of his missing mentor. "I promise you, when this is all finished we shall return to this locale to admire the human ingenuity later. For the moment, however, we need to focus on this task. Please, do not allow yourself to get distracted."
"But-those things allow people to fly!" Ronald insisted, "How can you not find that awesome?" With a frustrated groan, he let his head fall back as he gave a little hop, making himself look very much like a young teenager not wanting to be controlled and told to calm down on Christmas.
But he did know William was right. It wasn't the time to fan-boy over the machines being built. They had a job to do. An important one.
But he was surrounded by so many cool things!
"...Maybe we can test drive a plane and use it to search for the old kook..?" he tried with little hope of being taken seriously.
William suffered a moment of inward hilarity, and he tried his best to contain his laughter. Goodness, how this young one affected him. "Later," he promised, "after we've taken care of the business we are here for."
In fact, the spiritual traces were leading away from the current location and they needed to stay on track. William pointed that fact out to his companion with more gentleness than usual, understanding Ronald's excitement.
"We dare not dally," he warned the younger reaper softly when Ronald drifted close enough to hear. "This could be our shining moment, Knox. Save the rest for afterwards, please."
Ronald sighed and hung his head in disappointment, "I know, I know..." He glanced back at the plane as William urged him on and they continued side-by-side down the lane, "We have a mission to complete. Orders are orders, and work comes before play...all that jazz. But this is the first fun thing we've encountered in this war! No death, just making really cool things! It's refreshing."
William checked his watch. "Hmm. Perhaps we could spare a few moments to have a closer look at them. So long as we don't lose sight of our mission and don't linger for long. The trail is still hot. Just don't invest too much time in it, Ronald."
"Really?" Ronald blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected William to suggest such a thing. Even if they were dating in their personal time. "We can take a closer look now? We have the time?"
"So long as you keep it brief," answered the older reaper with a nod. "As you say, we aren't likely to return to this place anytime soon, once this is all over with." He nodded towards the aircrafts. "Shall we?"
"Remind me to kiss you later!" Ronald grinned, resisting the urge to grab his hand. After all, it was a dangerous place to openly show their more private relations. Doing so would only cause them more problems they couldn't afford.
Instead, he turned and hurried at a quickened pace over to the plane being built, looking up at the sleek build of the body. William joined him and he had to admit that it was fascinating. Seeing as they could make use of portals to travel long distances in the reaper realm, Shinigami really had no need for airplanes. Cars, bikes and subways were about the extent of the transportation they used back home.
One of the mechanics noticed them staring, and he looked as though he was about to say something until he noticed William's officer colors. Instead of warning them away from the craft, he invited them to have a closer look. William nearly smiled at Ronald's obvious enthusiasm when he translated for him. "He is inviting us to climb into the plane and have a closer look."
Keeping to their covers, Ronald exclaimed first in Italian, and then acted like he caught himself before repeating it in English.
"Erm, I mean, we can go inside?!" He beamed over at the mechanic, "Grazie." He nodded, unable to keep the excitement out of his eye as he looked back up at the plane.
Keeping his expression as neutral as possible to hide his amusement, William thanked the mechanic as well and he circled around to the side of the plane as instructed. He gestured at the ladder leading up to the cockpit. "After you."
Ronald grinned and nodded, soon finding himself climbing up into the new fighter plane.
The control panel had been installed. Dials, switches, levers and meters were displayed neatly. If only he knew what they were all for—and if only he knew how to work one.
Imagining himself—and possibly William—flying one of these things across Europe, he sat down to look and get a feel for it, but he didn't touch anything more.
"I want one."
William sat down behind him gingerly, mistrustful of the odd aircraft. "One thing at a time. Perhaps some day when this is all over and things settle down on this side, we can return and procure a...ride."
He swallowed even as he said it. Not that he was fearful of heights, but leaping over rooftops was a far cry different from riding in a big hunk of metal machinery thousands of feet up. He made a mental note to learn more about how these aircrafts operated, as he'd rather be the one flying it than trusting in some mortal to keep them in the air without crashing.
"Yes!" Ronald turned, grinning ear-to-ear in excitement and his eyes practically shimmering. "Please! It'd be the best date ever! Maybe if we get a day off that's not because of stays in the hospital?"
William almost groaned, and he wished he hadn't said anything before having the opportunity to research more. What was done was done, though—and he wasn't one to go back on his word. "When the opportunity presents itself, certainly."
"Sweet!" Ronald leaned back in the seat and continued to look around at everything, "You're the best, Will."
William managed a brief, faint smile at that, but then his eyes went blank as he imagined himself in an airplane doomed to crash. He stiffened and gripped the seat he was sitting in, and he lost all awareness of his surroundings as his imagination replayed that unexpected fear in his mind again and again. He lost track of time completely and he was still sitting there like that after ten minutes had passed.
"...Hey, Hey Will!" Ronald was next to him, snapping his fingers in front of his face, "Did ya die? We should get going. I know this thing is cool, but we're on the job." He moved to shake William's shoulder.
The older reaper was shaken out of his daze, and he blinked at Ronald. Faintly mortified by his lapse, he cleared his throat and nodded sharply. "Yes...yes, of course. We should be going."
He climbed out of the cockpit and descended the ladder, then solicitously held it steady for his partner as Ronald joined him. He nodded at the mechanic that had been generous enough to let them board the plane, and he spoke to him in German. "Thank you for that demonstration. It is an impressive craft."
The mechanic grinned and nodded, tipping his cap respectfully. "Of course, Adjutant. Please be safe in your journeys and battles."
William smirked humorlessly. Nobody involved in this war was "safe"; particularly now with an unknown villain out there wiping the records of the deceased. Not even people's souls were safe, any longer. "We shall keep that in mind. Good day to you."
Gesturing for his companion, he straightened his hat and began to walk out of the hangar. Once they were far enough away for him to do so without attracting curious attention, he pulled out his navigation device and he pointed at the road leading away from the area. "Let's try this way, first. It would have been useful if the Undertaker had chosen to disclose a more precise location to meet up, but it appears we shall have to play a guessing game. As I recall, my mentor is fond of brandy. I believe we may have better luck seeking out the taverns and checking them first. Otherwise, the local mortuaries or crematoriums may yield results."
"Mmmh, taverns...you, sir, tempt me." Ronald smirked jokingly. He liked to drink, but he didn't lack self-control. He wouldn't actually drink while on the job, and if he did, he would keep it to only one so as to not impair his judgment.
He tugged his black gloves tighter onto his hands. "I suggest we get moving. We've already spoiled ourselves with a short break, and we don't know how long he's willing to wait for us."
"Agreed," said William with a nod. They started with the taverns first, working their way through town and keeping a sharp eye out for his former mentor. He had no idea what to expect. The last time they'd seen the Undertaker, he was masquerading as a doctor. Whether they would find him in his usual funeral attire or something else, he could not say. Of one thing he was certain, though. Regardless of how the ancient was dressed, there would be no mistaking him.
To be continued