Four months, two weeks, twelve days, four hours, and thirteen minutes before Sententia.
"So Mr. Adams," a hooded man snarled, "you failed to get a girl?"
The man who had been maced the night before shifted nervously.
"Yes," he admitted, "but Reaper-"
"Then I'm afraid that your usefulness has expired."
Before the man could even scream a blade shot out. It skimmed the air by his heart. For a minute it seemed like nothing had happened. Then the man slowly sank to his knees and fell to the ground.
"May the record show that Mr. Adams died of a heart attack. His family does not get benefits," said Reaper coolly.
"You really can't get good help these days," sighed another man as he walked in, his hair ruffled and unkempt.
"It's a delicate matter Arkady," The Reaper said, "We're running out of time and these fools keep screwing up. They don't understand how important this is. Disgusting really."
"Well," Arkady said, "why don't you let me go and get one? You know that I won't fail."
The Reaper looked at the man speculatively for a minute.
"Do you think that's wise?" he asked, "The bitch's enemies are still looking."
"Well then they won't be looking for me to go out then will they?" asked Arkady, "Come on, Cat's running out of time. We can't risk another botched job."
For a minute Reaper stared off into space. Then he said;
"Very well. But be safe. If something goes wrong then I don't want to lose another brother."
"Don't worry about it," Arkady smirked.
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Vanya woke up with a moan. For a minute she tried to figure out where she was. The room just wouldn't stop spinning. Moaning again she tried to shift on the bed. A dull pain in her head started. Tentatively she raised a hand to her head. There was definitely a bruise forming. Where had she gotten that from? Vanya frowned as she tried to remember.
All too soon the memories of the previous night came back. She sat bolt upright, trying to figure out what to do. When she did so a sharp pain pulsed through her leg. Vanya had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Yes, that was right, something was wrong with her ankle. More gingerly this time she pulled herself up to have a look at it. She was surprised to see that it had been bandaged up with a surprising amount of professionalism.
Further inspection revealed that her foot had been propped up. The lights were dim and artificial, so she had absolutely no idea if it was day or night. Images of the nine o'clock news of what happened to women who had been kidnapped started to come into her mind. Forcing them out she took a deep breath through her nose in an attempt to calm herself. She nearly gagged.
The whole place had reeked of damp from the moment she woke up. However, the smell hadn't actually managed to hit her full throttle until a few minutes ago. She hadn't smelt something this bad since she had watched her siblings fight the Great Sewage Beast of '89. Then she realized where she was. The sewers. Perfect. Angrily she clutched her nose. Breathing through her mouth was the only way to get any decent air in.
"It does take some getting used to," Kraken said casually.
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"Why do you have to go?" asked Claire desperately.
Rumor kneeled down to her daughter's height so that she could be eye-level. She looked at those eyes, so full of innocence and uncomprehending. How were you supposed to explain to a child that her parents weren't together anymore? How about trying to explain that the house was in Patrick's name so she had to leave?
Even better, the fact that it looked like Patrick was going to get full custody of Claire? Rumor hadn't used her powers in years. Now the one time she did Patrick was claiming it was assault and that she had a violent temper. He was saying she wasn't fit to raise her daughter. How were you supposed to say that? Deciding it was better to keep things simple she just said;
"Because sometimes parents have to do things that they don't want to."
Instead of answering Claire threw her arms around her mother.
"Don't go," she begged.
A few tears squeezed out of Rumor's eyes. She choked the rest of them back with difficulty. Gripping her daughter tightly she whispered;
"I'm sorry, but I have to."
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Two hours and he would be shooting J.F.K. Not a bad job in all considerations, one that was actually pretty good by his standards. On his way through the lobby he passed by his least favorite co-workers, Hazel and Cha-Cha. He wrinkled his nose. As usual they were covered with blood and smelled of sugar and intestines.
"-I'm telling you," he heard Cha-Cha say, "People don't come like they used to. They are dying far too quickly."
"That's because you take out the liver first!" Hazel answered, "I keep telling you to go for the tonsils."
.05 rolled his eyes in disgust. Both of them were amateurs, nowhere near as good as he was. They both went off into the future and he put them quickly out of his mind as he walked past his superior's office. Frowning thoughtfully he stopped. There were things he wanted to know, things he had been wondering about. The boss wasn't in. He supposed that tonight was as good as any.
Looking around he made sure that no one was watching. Then he made a quick micro-jump into the future. In no time at all the window to the office was broken, the door open, and the cabinets riffled through. What he found would've shocked him, if he could've been shocked.