A/N: Hi, I'm back! I'm on a roll! But that's probably just because it's the summer holidays and I have nothing better to do with my life... Wow, that's depressing... -_-
Anyway, this would have been up sooner, but my crappy laptop keeps overheating and shutting itself down every five minutes. It's really annoying!
Thank you to everyone who favourited or reviewed, they really spurred me on to write more. I heart you all!
This chapter is dedicated to SymetricallyObsessed who requested... Well, you'll find out!
Reia Kellyn- Yay, reviews! Thankyou! I'm proud of Thanatos' name too! Thanatos is the name of the daemon personification of death in Greek mythology (plus it sounds cool.) The Stayne bit came from the name Ilosovic Stayne because I was obssessed with the new Alice in Wonderland film while I was writing it :) I'm not sure if this counts as a HappySkul time, so I'm going to try and write another one as well.
I'd like to say that I have no idea what training for a bomb disposal squad is like, so forgive me if it's completely wrong. Now, on with the chapter, at last. Enjoy!
"There's another one." Skulduggery's smooth voice slowly registered through Valkyrie's sleep befuddled mind.
"Huh?" She queried.
"I said there's another one." He took a seat next to her and threw Valkyrie's mail down on the kitchen table.
It was far too early for her to be playing these games with him. "I heard what you said! A little explanation wouldn't hurt." Valkyrie responded snappishly. She looked closely at the envelope her friend was now holding up, and scowled. "Oh, give me a break! Another one?"
"That is what I said."
"Oh, be quiet, you know that there will be one waiting for you at your place tonight."
That wiped the smirk off his face. "What do you want me to do with it?"
"Put it with the rest. And make me another coffee while you're at it, I'm going need it before I face the day. Do you know how much paperwork we've got to do?"
With a mock sigh, Skulduggery stood to put the kettle on before tossing the envelope out of the window, not giving a second look at the steadily growing pile of identical letters that it landed on.
Ding-Dong
Tanith jumped up and beamed at her long-term boyfriend. "I'll get it!" She chimed before skipping towards the door. She got there in no time and was soon signing for a package and waving the postman goodbye.
Ghastly chuckled. "Expecting something?"
She walked back in with a large box balanced against her hip and a few smaller papers in her hand. She sorted through them as she replied. "Yeah, I went online the other day and found the cutest... Ugh, not again!"
"What?" Ghastly asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking over her shoulder. "Oh. Well, he's persistent; you've got to admire that. Would you do the honours?"
"Of course!" Tanith folded the envelope as tightly as she could, and then stuffed it down the waste disposal. They listen with satisfaction at the whirring noise, then silence.
"Well, that's that taken care of. Anyway, you have to see this dress I bought. It's the most gorgeous thing. I think you'll enjoy it, Gee-gee!"
Ghastly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Promise me you'll never call me that in public."
"M-m-m-Ma'am? There's another letter here for you. What would you like me to do with it?"
China smiled sweetly at the man in front of her. His spindly legs trembled. "What did I tell you to do with the other ones that I've been getting everyday for nearly six weeks now?"
"You told me to send them back, Ma'am, with a more insulting message each time."
" Yes, until he gets the point. Well, what are you waiting for, sweetie, hop to it!" China replied in a forced polite tone. It just wouldn't do to throw a book at the shaking boy, as she felt like doing. After all, what was it they said? 'Don't shoot the messenger.' Also, it was getting harder and harder to find capable assistants who didn't faint at the sight of her.
China thought that she may have overdone it a bit with the smile, as the man swooned then scrambled through the door, leaving behind a squeak that was barely recognisable as a sentence.
"Carry my babies!"
China's lips twitched. Huh. That was a new one.
Fletcher lay on his bed in his ritzy London Townhouse where he was staying for the weekend. Hey, the guy was a teleporter; he could pretty much do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, having a detective as a best friend tended to do wonders for your sense of morality and Fletcher had promised Valkyrie that he wouldn't appear in anymore banks.
Fletcher was flicking through his mail when his eye was caught by his address, hastily scrawled in a familiar hand. He groaned and ran his hand through his flat hair. (Fletcher was not a morning person, and he certainly hadn't had the time to go through his usual three hour beauty regime. It takes a great deal of time and effort to create a style that walks the thin line between fierce and fashionable as well as Fletcher's legendary locks.)
Suddenly his eyes lit up, like a teleporter in a bank vault. "I know exactly what to do with this!" He cried triumphantly, jumping up from his slouched position and punching the air in the classic teenage hero pose. Then, just as instantaneously, Fletcher relaxed and looked towards his drawn curtains, thanking wizard God that no-one had seen him. Sure, the stance looked cool if you were Superman, or from High School Musical (Not that Fletcher has watched it or anything...), but it just didn't look right when executed by a grown man who should be way past the cartoon phase of his life.
After donning a cap to hide his tragically lifeless hair, Fletcher set off down the hall, stopping only once, in front of the mirror for his usual routine. ("How you doin'?", "My, aren't you looking particularly strapping today?", "Oh, do stop, you're making me blush!")
With a barely audible pop, Fletcher was gone.
The trainees at the North London bomb disposal were having a completely normal day. They quickly settled into the regular routine; informational video, demonstration, hands-on experience, lunch, then paperwork before the end of the working day. Jordan Harris was the rising star of this class. With an instinctual knowledge of the inner workings of a bomb, Jordan was a quick learner and a favourite of the instructors. On this overcast morning, he, like all his classmates was feeling equal parts nerves and excitement for their first real life situation in which their task was to safely detonate a bomb. This was what all their training had been leading up to. Of course Jordan had handled a bomb before, although never a live one, and of course there would be a fully trained bomb squad to oversee the exercise, but Jordan, as training team leader, had to make sure this went perfectly.
And it did... Until the last moments. "3... 2..."Jordan was holding the obligatory countdown when the trainee next to him, a woman by the name of Sharon, called for the countdown to be stopped, spotting something at the same instance as her co-worker. "Stop, I saw something move!"
Jordan Harris made the most rookie mistake in the book. He grabbed his microphone and shouted. "One moment ple-"
*BOOM*
Jordan Harris was fired that afternoon. He spent the next few months wondering if he was going crazy, or whether he had actually seen a floating boy flash him a peace sign, before dropping something on the bomb. He decided on crazy.
On the set of Titanic 2, Leonardo DiCaprio was taking a break while the backdrop for the next scene was set up. A tap on his shoulder alerted him to the presence of the film's producer and screenwriter, a dark haired woman by the name of Reia Kellyn. He turned to face her.
"Leo, hunny, some guy asked me to bring this to you in person, said it was important."
The film star looked at the envelope and saw that it was exactly the same as the other thirty of them he had received. Who was this nut job, and how did they always know how to find him?
"Thanks Rei. Hey, have you seen Darren lately?"
Reia sighed. "Nah, he's been really busy shooting Glee, but I heard on Skulbook that-"
A loud wailing started. "Places, people!" The director shouted.
"Ugh, sorry Rei, that's my cue. How about we catch up later?"
"Sure, see ya!"
Leonardo jogged over to the set, a large boat in a tank of water.
"Camera rolling!"
"I'm still the king of the world! Take that, Rose, you bitch!" The actor flung his arms out, letting go of the letter and watching it fall into the pool, where live sharks were tearing apart a very realistic looking chunk of flesh. They made no differentiation between meat and paper. Even sharks need fibre in their diet. Leonardo delivered his final line of the scene. "That was for letting go!"
Mages and mortals all over the country, all over the world, were receiving these letters, and all of them were finding new and creative ways to dispose of them. Set on fire, dropped into a blender, eaten, ran over by a tank. And those are only the examples that I am legally and morally allowed to write about.
But this all boils down to one question. What were the letters?
Well, to answer that question we are taken to a badly lit, disused warehouse on the outskirts of Dublin, where a man was sitting on a stool in the centre of the room. He didn't seem to notice the smell of rotting that lingered in the warehouse, or at least didn't acknowledge it.
"Where is everyone?" He whined. "They're not coming, are they?" The question was aimed at another man, who looked slightly older, although their ages were nigh on impossible to tell.
The second man turned to face the first, holding a cone made of card. "Here, have a party hat. That'll make you feel better. Maybe they didn't get the invites. I knew I should have sent more."
The first man, now sporting a party hat, scowled. "Be quiet, Gerald. No one wants to come. This is the worst birthday party ever!"
"Don't be like that, Scapey, I'm here. Anyway, things can only get better!" The thunderstorm that had been threatening all day took this moment to announce itself. There was a flash of lightening before the power failed. The two men were plunged into darkness.
Thrasher laughed nervously. "Time for cake?"
"I hate my life."
A/N: All credit for the idea of Titanic 2 goes to Reia Kellyn, I just borrowed it for a paragraph.
So, did you like it? Please let me know in a review, because it really does help me write faster! If you do, you get a hug from Leonardo DiCaprio! And you all want that, right? (I know I do...)
Amara Calla xoxoxoxoxoxo