The room was brightly lit from a series of massive windows that let the realm's false sunlight pour inside. Instead of making a space where all was revealed, however, it created shadows and darkness in those few spots where the light could not touch; places where secrets could hide. Collins sat quietly as he allowed his eyes to scan the other men at the table. They all looked alike with their black suits, well groomed hair, and somber expressions, but he knew their minds were all very different. They brought their own opinion to this meeting which clung to their forms like cheap cologne. The collective smell was a foul stench, but there was a way to change and warp opinions so that they all had the same scent. He had been patient and waited, but it appeared as if his time was almost at hand.
Mumbles rippled about the room as the situation was discussed in hushed tones, but Collins only sat and waited. One of the men, a Mr. Perkins by name, cleared his throat loudly and the whispered conversations slowly began to diminish. "Gentleman," he said, "We have to discuss this current situation. The issue of deserters is only growing, and now we have this situation with Spears. He's killed a total of four reapers and has apparently convinced Sutcliff to join him."
Someone snorted. "I doubt Sutcliff was that hard to convince," a soft tone stated which prompted a few laughs.
Perkins narrowed his eyes which ended the laughter. "This is serious," he chastised, "Out of control reapers can cause a serious disruption in the balance of things, and Spears might be the worst since the deserter who's name we had stricken from the records. Now, Collins has asked to say a few words to all of you."
Collins stood up and waited for all eyes to fall on him. "Sirs," he said, "The situation we now face is a dire one. Agents are searching for Spears and Sutcliff as we speak, but without any luck. Our hope now is that they may be captured quietly and before they can do any harm." He paused briefly as he slowly started to circle the table. "However, this situation could have been avoided."
"Wait a second, Collins," a blonde man said, "Are you talking about your chipping program again?"
"I am," Collins answered, "I suggested it to the board some years back, but my proposal was turned down."
"Because it seemed unreasonably invasive," Perkins said, "Putting chips inside of agents' bodies so we can monitor their every move?" He shook his head and adjusted his glasses. "We are all prisoners here, but I don't think the answer is to treat all the agents as if they are nothing more than dogs to be collared."
Collins smiled dryly. "What is more unreasonable?" he asked, "To put small, harmless devices inside of agents that could provide protection in case one goes rogue, or to let situations like this with Spears go unchecked? If Spears had been chipped, he would have already been discovered and stopped. Sutcliff wouldn't have even had a chance to be persuaded. We wouldn't even need this discussion.
There was another wave of hushed talk, and Collins could tell he had made some headway with this group. After a few minutes, Perkins raised his hand to silence the group. "You have made some excellent points, Collins," he said, "Please allow us some time to discuss this matter."
"Thank you," Collins said with mock humility," I will return to my office in the meantime." He nodded politely and walked confidently out of the boardroom. Even in the hall, he didn't dare drop his act. He would have loved to fall against the door laughing as he though of the most creative curse words for those fools inside, but he had to keep up his image. He politely smiled and acknowledge people until he made it back to his large, well furnished office.
Even before he had shut the door, a slender, blonde man approached. "How did the meeting go, Mr. Collins?" he asked. He held a pen and paper in this tight, nervous grasp and seemed prepared to take any necessary notes.
"It went well, Bishop," Collins said, "Not perfect. i still think there's some resistance, but it will be hard to deny the genius of chipping all reapers. Besides, any that will resist will reveal themselves to be enemies and must be eliminated. They can not exist in our new reality."
"Yes, sir," Bishop readily agreed for he had heard all this before, "Do you need anything sir?"
"I am fine for now," Collins said, "And I do have something that should be done right away. I need to visit Spectacles."
"Are you having a problem with your glasses, sir?" Bishop asked, but Collins didn't take the time to answer.
Leaving his assistant behind, Collins emerged from his office and walked down the hall with exaggerated bravado, but the smile on his face was anything but exaggerated. Everything was falling into place, just like the old prophesy had mentioned. Things were changing in their realm to make way for New Death, even if that meant getting rid of interlopers like Spears and Sutcliff.
Perhaps even Anderson.
((x))
William had been awake for some time, but he simply lay on the bed as he studied the ceiling. It wasn't like him to lie around and be hesitant, but so much had happened in a short period of time. He had often heard people say that certain events felt unreal as if it had been nothing more than a dream, but this was no dream. It was a nightmare from which he couldn't wake. It was so easy for him to look back into his memory and remember who he used to be. Just a short time ago, he had been a normal supervisor with a tenuous control over his subordinates. He had been stressed, but he had a certain understanding as to how the world around him worked. Now, he was lying in a strange bed in a strange house. He was a deserter and a rule breaker. He had become a murderer. If there was anyway it was possible, he would turn back the clock to try and stop any of this from ever happening.
Lying in bed wasn't going to change anything, so William got up to face the day. Grell had located some of Baron Barnett's clothes for him to wear. While Grell had complained the outfits were, in her words, "horribly out of style,' they fit William well enough and were clean. That's all William really cared about when it came to attire. Carefully he combed his hair before examining himself in the mirror. Overall, his look was acceptable, but he took time to touch the tiny, gold collar about his neck. It was such a small device, and invisible to human eyes, but that was the only thing keeping that demon under control. It still whispered to William; dancing through his dreams and the darker recesses of his mind, but it could do little more than annoy him for now. Seeing that he was ready, he left the room where he immediately encountered a delicious which he followed to the kitchen.
Grell was cooking, and William stood in the doorway for a minute to watch her work. Her beautiful hair had been tied in a long braid, and she was wearing a red robe over her pajamas. Despite her not being dressed, he could tell she had taken the time to put her makeup, which he found curious. He had seen her without makeup before, and she looked perfectly fine to him. She was humming a somewhat happy tune before turning around to see William standing there.
"Will, darling," she said, "I had no idea you were there, but I'm glad you're up. I thought you were going to sleep the day away. Come on in and sit down. I'm going to make us a nice Sunday Roast even if it is only Wednesday." She laughed at her own joke.
He didn't laugh with her. She was rambling a bit, and he wondered if that was covering up some other emotion. They hadn't spoken since there near kiss the night before, and he had expected Grell to bring that up immediately. The fact she didn't actually only made things more awkward for him. It would be far easier to discus the matter if she would just say something, but she seemed to be in no hurry. William sat down and watched her work for some time; marveling that she was quite talented in the kitchen. She resumed humming as she set about making what appeared to be some sort of pie he suspected would be there desert, and paused when some flour got her small, round glasses. She had given up her reaper glasses upon deserting, but she had returned to wearing the glasses she had used in the past, which puzzled him. There didn't seem to be a point.
"May I ask you a question?" William asked.
"Besides that one?" Grell returned with a smile. "Sure, darling. Ask away."
"Why are you still wearing glasses?" he questioned. It wasn't what he wanted to ask, but at least it was the start to a conversation. "I've always heard that our eyes return to normal after deserting, and I know that I can see fine now. I was just curious as to why you still choose to wear them."
"Oh, my eyesight has always been positively wretched," she answered quickly, "I think I could see better after I became a reaper, and these old things only help so much. It's a tragedy, but my beautiful eyes have always been hidden behind a pair of lenses."
He nodded. "That makes sense," he said. Not being able to think of anything else today, he lapsed into silence while she cooked. She acted as if she was happy and serene, but even he could tell the uneasiness that lurked beneath her trembling smile, and he suspected it had something to do with what had almost happened the night. This had to be addressed, no matter how awkward. He reached up to adjust the glasses he no longer wore as he sought to frame his thoughts.
"Grell, we need to talk," he finally said.
"About what?" she said, as she looked inside the oven. "Won't be long," she muttered, mostly to herself.
"About last night," he answered, "About what happened or what almost happened. There are things that need to be clarified."
Grell laughed. "Don't trouble yourself about that, darling, I understand what happened perfectly."
"I'm not sure you do," he said, "It is a complicated situation."
"There's nothing complicated about it," she returned, and he noted the edge in her voice. "You're stressed and upset. You almost forgot yourself. That's all." She turned away suddenly as if she was afraid to face him directly.
"Yes it is," he said, as he stood up and walked over to her. "There's a lot more to it." He paused as he sought for the words. "It's the demon," he finally managed.
"The demon made you act like you were going to kiss me?"
"Yes. No. It's difficult to explain," he answered, "The demon doesn't seem to be able to control my actions anymore, but it still puts thoughts in my head. It twists my emotions and feelings. It warps desires."
She turned her head slowly so that their eyes meet. "If it can warp a desire," she said, "then the desire had to be there beforehand."
Although he had never considered this before, he knew that she was right. "I suppose," he admitted.
"Do you want to kiss me, Will?" she asked, putting her hands on his upper arms and bringing her face close to his.
Instead of answering verbally, he leaned forward to bring his lips to hers. To an outsider, this kiss wouldn't have appeared like anything special. There weren't in some romantic location, nor was their kiss particularly long or passionate. In fact, it was almost chaste, but it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as if this moment had been fated to happen and their kiss was simply harmonious and fated. He moved away, but her hands were still on their arms.
She was delightfully flushed and even giggled slightly. "I like the way you answer a lady's question," she said.
For once, the demon was silent as he stood there looking down into her smiling face. "I thought you deserved a direct answer," he said. "It's been a long time coming."
She laughed again, but she let go of his arms to move towards the oven. "Let me take care of this," she said, "I think you have a lot more questions to 'answer.'"
((x))
Emily sat on the floor in the nearly bare room as she looked over the documents spread all around her. Collins had gotten her more files, but there was still so little information. Sutcliff had more haunts in the living realm than William, but all of them had turned out to be dead ends so far. She knew she had to do this, but she was feeling more and more like a failure with each passing day. She couldn't even provide justice for the one man she had truly loved.
And Ronald was watching her.
She had started seeing the day before; sitting silently in a warped chair in the corner of the room. The rational part of her mind knew that it couldn't be him. Ronald was dead and buried. His body had been disfigured and his soul stolen from him brutally, yet she still talked to the apparition in the corner. It comforted her and gave her strength. Her beloved was watching and waiting for her to gain vengeance, and that's what she planned to do. This silent version of Ronald only watched, and he never smiled. She had to do all she could to see his smile one more time.
The air around her grew thick, and she knew before turning that Collins had created a portal into the room. She turned slightly to look at him, but was slightly disappointed. Ronald had left when Collins had arrived. "Any news?" she asked.
"Great news," Collins replied, petting Virgil who set perched in his arms, "The rest of Upper Management have agreed to start my chipping program. This sort of thing will never happen again."
"But that doesn't help us now," Emily said, "I've gone through all of this, and I still have nothing."
"I may be able to help you with that," stated Collins, "I've talked to Anderson in Spectacles. He was far more stubborn than he should have been in the matter, but he's now working on glasses with a special lens that will allow you to see through glamours and illusions. No matter how Sutcliff is disguised, you'll be able to recognize that freak."
"What about Spears?"
"It's doubtful he will even attempt to create an illusion," Collins said, "He was never very good at it. Barely passed from what I understand." He laughed bitterly. "Would you believe those fools in Management actually wanted to promote him once? Thankfully, they came to their senses."
"But I will be able to see him with these glasses if he does try to make a disguise?" she asked.
"Of course," Collins answered, "I'm not sure when the glasses will be ready. I'll have to keep an eye on Anderson to make sure he works diligently on this new project." He seemed to be talking more to himself, but then he shook his head. "I'll also leave you, Virgil. He'll be able to identify them. We're also searching to see if there's any more information that might give them a clue as to their whereabouts." The cat jumped from Collins' arms and landed delicately on the floor where it regarded Emily with his dual colored eyes.
"I just need to find them," Emily said, "Then, I will make sure they can never do this again."
"They will be stopped," agreed Collins, "I will be returning back to the office to make sure everyone is doing their job. I have a feeling there will be a lot of vacancies soon, but sacrifices must be made in the name of greatness."
Collins created a portal and left as quickly as he appeared, and Emily was thankful. She didn't particularly like the man and his bizarre talk, but his help was necessary for now. He would help her in her quest for her dearest Ronald.
Now that Collins had left, Ronald had returned to his spot. He still wasn't moving or smiling, but he had begun to cry great tears of blood.
((x))
Grell hadn't been expecting any visitors when Rosalind pecked on the window, but she was thrilled to see the familiar pigeon. Happily, she opened the window, but found the bird was loaded down with a letter and a small bag. She untied the items, and Rosalind immediately went in to locate William. To Grell's confusion, the bag contained money, so she quickly read the letter from Pops to see if it provided any information.
Collins is causing quite an issue in our realm and using this incident to push his agendas. I fear for the future. I am under surveillance, so this will be my last letter for some time. I'm not sure how long. Keep Rosalind with you to keep her safe. I've sent along some money as I know you are no doubt running low, but I'm not sure when or even if I can send you any more help. Emily is the only one actively looking for you as Collins is busy with other affairs, but even she can be dangerous given the right tools. I have been forced to create glasses that can see through glamours. I am stalling, but I can't do so for much longer. Stay safe. If you are captured and the demon is released, we will all be in danger.
Pops
William walked into the room with Rosalind happily perched on his shoulder. "Another letter from Pops?" he asked.
Grell nodded and handed the note to him. His face darkened as he read it, and she could tell there was a lot going through his mind. "I think there's so much more going on than we're being told," William said, "and I don't like that."
"What do you want to do?" Grell asked.
"I'm not sure what we should do," he admitted, "I know we're supposed to lay low, but I hate doing nothing. Plus, we do have this money situation. While it's impossible for us to starve to death, we do not want to go hungry and leave ourselves susceptible. We will have to take action is our financial situation appears that it's going to be an issue.
"Perhaps we can get jobs," Grell said. Stepping closer to William, she laid her head on his shoulder opposite of Rosalind, and he didn't move away. Although their situation was still bleak, Grell felt comforted standing by William's side and him not pushing her away. This is what she had been waiting on for over a century. "We'll figure out something," she added, "I know it."