Death and Pestilence

Chapter 2- A Walk in the Yard

When I turned around to face the source of that horrid, crackling noise, my vision blurred. The eyeholes of my doctor's mask were clouded by thick, violet smoke and flames. Beads of sweat ran down my cheeks and neck. I could only scarcely see the man through the explosion's sickly veil. Yet his weak, growling voice pervaded.

"Y-you and your DAMNED tricks." His words assaulted me like sharpened sickles trying to gouge out my heart. "You're a useless, repulsive, reclusive MONSTER; the hollow shell of a man!"

Those cruel quotes shook my fragile mind like a ravenous earthquake. Awaking with a fright and a slight migraine, it seemed also that my haywire tremors had shaken me half out of my bed.

"Guh...how long have I been upside down?" I groaned, and in response came a pitter-patter of paws, accompanied by a shocked squeak. It seemed the denizens of the Explodatorium knew not their lord, and a sickly rat had been nibbling on my burned dome piece. No wonder I had such a throbbing headache.

"What do you think you're doing?! Scram, you rotten scoundrel!" I roared and flailed about. A wild little hand collided with the green mouse, causing it to unfortunately explode with a surprised squeal. "ARG, NO- dammit!" Unable to maintain my balance, my legs fell off the bed with a crash. My blanket slithered down with it. After struggling and thrashing out of the blanket for quite some time, I finally freed myself. I sighed. "Wonderful." I muttered, with less feigned enthusiasm than before.

"Hee..." I threw the blanket off of me and then stood up with shaky legs, laughing almost maniacally. "Ehee hee hee hee heeee...oh damn, wait!" I exclaimed. "The Order-, the meeting is today, I think!" I hopped over to my study, and peered at my stained desk calendar. "Today is Monday, I know that for sure, and..." with a taloned finger, I located today. However, it seemed that Tuesday was the day starred and labeled, 'meet with Order at noon' rather than Monday.

I huffed, puzzled now. Was it actually Tuesday, and my gut informed me wrong? Or was it actually Monday, and Robert was wrong? Who knew for sure?

And of course, who else but Robert himself? The wizardly old man approached me, causing me to freeze up in surprise. "So it seems that the meeting was actually tomorrow, then?" He murmured, glancing over my shoulder.

"HA! I knew I wasn't entirely forgetful!"

"Quite. What a shame."

"Who needs a memory potion, now? Hee, hee...that'll teach you to doubt your Knight."

"So it shall." He took defeat well. "Now...what the devil happened earlier?"

"Er...what?" I cawed.

"I heard explosions and a ruckus in your room! What in the world-"

"Lab Rats."

"Oh. Of course."

"Now, if you'll excuse me...I'll be taking a walk today." I said, snatching my mask and padding over to the window of my study. Morning light filtered through the dusty glass.

"Really? Good, you need more Vitamin D."

"Oh hush," I snapped open the window, and wrapped the mask around my marred scalp. "And clean up my room or something." I joked, then jumped out of the window. My laboratory and explosive industry, the Explodatorium, stood stories high over the peaceful, forested landscape like a grim sentry or morbid obelisk. Its smokestacks and structures etched their way into a tranquil sky, poisoning it with emissions of sickness and soot. But I cared not for that, and only slightly cut down on my pollution as a result of guilt for the man I had killed so long ago.

The way down was long, steep, and merciless; gusts of wind and stray smoke assaulted my mask as I plummeted downward. Times like these had always made me regret not having actual, practical wings. Nevertheless, the process of changing my skeletal and integumentary structures into that of a crow's (the emblem of my specialty, plague) was tedious and nearly impossible. I had to thin my bones to make them more aerodynamic (hence why I am so small and lithe) and force my skin to grow crow feathers. However, I couldn't get the potion to work right, as it did for Robert's yeti transformation, so it only left me half-way. I was tiny and had some motley feathers, yet not enough to form functional wings out of my arms. It was a problem that I could easily smooth out with a little bit of thought and effort, but my project was put aside for more pressing matters.

And today, I intended to visit the cause of said 'pressing matters.'

Approaching the charred earth at a near-death velocity, I calculated my distance. About...two hundred feet, perhaps? Close enough to use my teleportation ability (no, not the result of magic!), whizzing me out of the air and onto the floor. Due to transferred potential energy or molecular discrepancies, the landing was rough and I tripped anyways.

I cackled, pulling the cane out of my robe to retrieve my footing. "Hee, hee, that's always fun." I mumbled to myself. "Better than taking all those damned stairs!"

Once I could maintain my footing, I stashed my cane away and hopped over to my destination. To accelerate I took the route of the canopy, clearing the underbrush with one sprightly spring and landing among tall, sturdy oaks. Gliding past those bushes of the sky, the world below seemed to rush by. I wasn't in a hurry, but there was nothing like a good, enthusiastic walk to get your blood pumping! Hee, hee!

Several minutes flew by. Grassy undergrowth became more earthen and stony, and the trees lifeless and black. Finally one branch could not take my weight, and it cracked. I lost my balance and plummeted to the ground with it. But, as always, I had a good laugh about it, and didn't mind the fall at all. An attitude of the sort proved how strong and resilient I was in spite of my frail appearance. And besides, I was where I wanted to be.

Although this terrain was more lively (if you can call it that) and charming at night, I still preferred to be here during the day. Silly ghosts didn't try to frighten me, and only patrolled the living world as hazy images during the day. The sun rendered them powerless.

And besides, I thought as a caw sounded near me, there were more pretty crows here during the day! Sometimes they would hop next to me and eye me curiously, convinced due to my peculiar scent that I was a crow as well. Some would perch on my shoulder, and others would fly around me. I grinned at the one currently perched on a cross-shaped gravestone. I held out my arm and cawed. It took the hint and flew onto my forearm, talons grasping tightly. I caressed its soft, shimmering black plumes. I had always loved such sweet, destructive animals as crows and rats. Being a recluse at heart, interacting with them was all I needed as a child, all I needed now. Although they didn't have much to say, their presence still pleased me. Especially this one's, who would accompany me to a very special grave.

…Which was a few paces away, actually. I could always recognize how I marked the earth where my dead beauty lay in a heartbeat. Although I knew it should've been his parents' job to bury their son, I was vindictive against his fool of a father for sending him on a death mission, and held my own damn funeral. So I fabricated a coffin of metal and blew a six-foot deep hole out of the earth to bury him in. A raven-black, imposing obelisk fashioned from stone marked his grave. Its shadow cast in my direction like a sundial, and combined with how unnatural the marker was in the Lich Yard, the crow in my hands was scared off.

"No, don't leave!" I croaked, but the bird was already sky high. With a disapproving sigh, I stepped before the spiked gravestone and ran a hand down its polished marble face. The flowers from my last visit had long since grayed and shriveled up in the sun. As I stood there relishing in the moment, another migraine wracked my brain. "Damn..." I grumbled, and walked back a few steps. I could've sworn I felt a presence behind me, but I cast it off as a little ghost.

I ground my teeth, rubbing my temples. "Perhaps it's time to return home." I grumbled as scenes from my battle with the farmer's son flashed into my conscious mind. I didn't know why my brain chose then of all times to dig the event out of my subconscious. Before I knew it, tears trickled down my pallid cheeks at the memory of my sickness laying waste to the poor man's weak mortal frame. Some tears were absorbed by the flowers' remains, but not even that could restore their verdancy and vivaciousness.

I turned around and solemnly began to walk home. That was enough heartache for the day. Shady apparitions swirled around me eagerly, trying to siphon energy from my pain. I swatted them away with my cane, squawking intimidatingly. They shied away with somber moans.

On my way to the Explodatorium I snagged a crow for fun experiments. Perhaps I'd make it an electrocuting crow like Treasure Knight's eels rather than a burning crow. Anything to clear my mind of the man I had killed; the only one I've ever loved.