So sorry about the sporadic updating, people!! I'm terrible about that, but I am doing better than I used to. And plus, even with my unreliability, I still seem to be accumulating readers! (Okay, one, but still!!)

Chapter 6: Sub-Par

Gregory was right about the jobs. For the first three weeks, Voldy never repeated a job. He mailed memos, he worked in the laundromat, he even got to clean Julius Caesar's quarters once (though that job he'd literally never repeat; Caesar came in an hour after Voldy's shift had finished to find him standing over a broken bust of a main Roman god, pointing his stamp at it and saying, "Reparo, damn you!" furiously).

Ahhhhh. His stamp. His little rubber security blanket. It had replaced so much for him in death: his wand, Nagini, even all of his Death Eaters (it was better at the job than Gregory; he slipped up and called him "minion" once and learned never to do that again). Ah well, he'd never needed his Death Eaters, not really. They were really just poster children to his life's campaign: There are only two types of Muggles in this world: The ones killed by me, and—oh yes, any other second group doesn't exist anymore, because I KEEL THEM!!!

Oh yes, he was made fun of for it. But he was made fun of for a lot of things: the stamp, his tiny size, and the sad lack of hair on his head. And so, he decided not to take it to heart, though they clearly meant it that way.

Voldy was still one of the n00bs, yes, but he was not the only n00b. It was impossible to be the only n00b; people died every day. Sure, he was singled out because he hovered about his work clutching a stamp, but he wasn't beaten up as much.

Okay, who was he kidding. He was the dorkiest spirit in his unit. Only two months into eternity and his colleagues had made it clear that he would never fit into any of the previously formed gangs, groups, posses, etc., unless he made his own that no one would ever in their right mind join (except for the insane, because, well, they were not in their right mind).

The power he had harnessed in life was lost. He had no friends, but he was used to that. He just wasn't used to being the victim of cruelty. But at least he had Gregory, who was not a friend, but not a constant annoyance, either.

And the stamp. Never forget the stamp.

Oh, Dumbledore, where are you now? Voldy thought one day as he sat idly in his room, trying to think of names for his stamp.

"Up in Heaven, yukking it up with the best, because he was good and you were... sub-par. No, worse, you were—dare I say it?--hellish." Gregory replied to his thoughts, entering.

"I was not hellish. I was... lord-like. A lord lording over his subjects," Voldy answered thoughtfully.

"You mean a lord killing any of his subjects he didn't like, i.e., those of non-magical descent," Gregory pointed out.

"Oh shut up," Voldy snapped. "But you're right about one thing: I wasn't sub-par. Sub-par is for the Limbo-goers, you fool."

"How am I a fool if you conceded I was right?" Gregory retorted.

"Just because you are a silly three-foot thing that flies," Voldy dismissed him with a wave of his stamp.

"This coming from the guy who carries around a stamp for protection," Gregory muttered.

"This coming from the most powerful wizard in the world, who answered to no one!"

"Was," Gregory corrected. "That's all gone now. And seeing as it's changed, you've got someone to answer to now: Julius Caesar's calling you to his quarters."

Voldy groaned. He hadn't particularly enjoyed his first encounter with his sect master, his second had been worse, and now his third?

"Afraid he's going to impale you with one of the bust shards?" Gregory snickered. "Come on, no use delaying it."

Voldy gripped his stamp more tightly and followed Gregory out the door.

**

Two pairs of ancient red eyes had been watching Voldy.

Of course, they'd been watching Voldy through a 48" plasma screen, but they'd been watching him nonetheless.

He was... different. Had strange habits, that was true, but Satin had a few strange tics himself, so he allowed room for err.

He was—what do they call them now?--ah yes, a n00b, but he was unique. And he relished power in his life.

The Devil liked that. Seemed like they had some things in common.

Watching Voldy walk down the hall to his sect master's quarters, Satin allowed himself a smile, something he did not do often but liked, and so used it as a reward. He replayed Gregory's words in his head. Maybe it was time to become sub-par.

A/N: Sorry this is kind of short, guys!! I'll do much better next time!!