Knowledge of "Graveyard Shift," "Masters Disasters," and "Who I Am," is recommended but not required.
This is...kind of the finale but also not? I do have other ideas for this series, but as far as major arcs go, this is it. Unless I come up with something else fun.
So, yeah. Not the end of the series. Just the end of the reckoning arc.
Also, this is the only part that will be written in third person, past-tense. The rest will be in the usual first person, present-tense.
His Own Worst Enemy!
Prologue: March 15, 1985
Last month, the Ancient known as the Master of Death had set foot in the human realm for one reason: to warn Vlad about a process known as the reckoning.
The reckoning takes exactly one year to complete. Unbeknownst to the duo, Vlad had begun his reckoning on March 15 of last year, two short months after his…sort of death. This explained Vlad losing control of his powers when he became over emotional. It also explained why Vlad's eyes - be they dark blue in human-form or red and pupil-less in ghost-form - became wholly black when the halfa was in an especially grim mood. These were the only signs of the changes occurring inside of Vladimir Masters.
At the start of a halfa's afterlife (half-ter life?), their ghost-form looks more human than one might expect from a ghost, even one who began their existence as a human. Once the reckoning is complete, that form's appearance shifts into something more supernatural, their true ghost-form, if you will. Beyond hoping that his friend kept his shimmery blue locks, Hutch Blairman didn't think much of this information.
Until Reaper got to the important part.
On the final day of the reckoning, the halfa becomes corrupted by negativity, by all the pain and fear and anger they've experienced since their death. This causes them to lose touch with reality. They go on a rampage, unable to hold back, unable to distinguish friend from foe. Reaper promised to leave a temporary portal open for Vlad the day before so that Vlad could be locked away in the Ancient's lair until the madness passed.
When Reaper left, Hutch urged Vlad to do as the Ancient said. Hutch promised that, despite the title and the intimidating appearance and the quiet, creepy way they spoke, Reaper was trustworthy. Though Hutch had never met the Master of Death until that day, he had heard enough stories. He also knew that Reaper was not only an Ancient, but an angel: a sub-species of ghost that is renowned for their caring natures and their desire to protect all those who need it.
Hutch explained all of this. He begged Vlad to listen.
Vlad didn't listen. He wasn't willing to trust mere stories, not when Hutch made the mistake of telling him that this was his first meeting with the Ancient. It didn't matter what Hutch said; Vlad remained suspicious of Reaper.
The duo argued a lot over the next month. Their arguments became more frequent the closer they came to March 15. Yesterday, the day Reaper came back with a final warning and a portal that remained open, was particularly bad.
"Are we really doing this again?" Vlad snapped, his pupil-less red eyes blazing with more than their natural glow. He stood before Hutch in the dark green button-up shirt and black slacks he had decided on when he tired of flying around in the hospital gown he'd died in. His pale, pale cheeks were flushed green, though it wasn't enough to cover the visible veins and arteries beneath his skin. "You can tell me the same stories a thousand times, yet I see no evidence that Reaper is being truthful. I will not fall into their trap!"
"Why must you be so stubborn?" Hutch yelled back. They were on the outskirts of Fallen, Nevada. It was almost midnight, but they didn't care if they woke anyone up. Hutch pointed to the swirling silver portal he had dragged Vlad to. "You get in there before you find out just how truthful Reaper was!"
"If you trust them so much, then you get in there!"
Vlad shoved Hutch to the ground. Hutch was close enough to the portal that his bucket hat was sucked into the vortex.
Hutch leaped to his feet and spoke before Vlad could. "Will you get off your high horse and listen to me?"
"Oh, graham crackers, Hutch! For the past month, I have done nothing but listen to you!"
"If you were listening, you wouldn't have argued with me. I'm telling you for the last time, that if Reaper says you're going to lose control tomorrow - which is roughly ten minutes away - then it will happen."
With bared teeth and a scowl that could curdle milk, Vlad grabbed the feather boa around Hutch's neck and yanked him closer. "I am sick of going in circles with you, so I will make myself clear. I do not trust that Grim Reaper wannabe. If you had any brains, you would feel the same instead of basing your opinion of them on stories you cannot verify."
"You're making a mistake!" Hutch roared, struggling to contain the ecto-energy that wanted to burst out of him.
Vlad's eyes glowed brighter than Hutch had ever seen them. "The only mistake I made was cavorting with a naive simpleton like you!"
The emotional pain from that statement was quickly overtaken by the physical pain of Vlad blasting him away with a dark pink ghost ray. Hutch barely escaped being thrown into Reaper's portal.
Hutch lay on his back in the grass and gazed up at the halfa who was now glaring down at him. "You will eat your words the day after tomorrow," Vlad threatened, "when March 15 has passed without incident. I expect you to serve up a steaming plate of apology, which I will consider accepting."
A low growl rumbled in Hutch's throat as he watched Vlad fly away. "Fine!" Hutch screamed. "Destroy the whole planet for all I care!"
Hutch had gone into the portal out of spite and wandered around in the Ghost Zone for a while to blow off steam.
Looking at the sight before him now, he wished that he hadn't.
Rubble that used to be buildings lined the streets. The buildings that survived were on the verge of collapse. Some vehicles had crashed in their drivers' attempts to flee. Other vehicles were little more than crushed metal. Puddles and splatters of red made a sick mural of the scene. Bodies were in various states of disrepair, at least the ones that could still be called bodies. Survivors were crying and limping and crawling and screaming out the names of loved ones. And, phasms, the smell.
"Fallen" had never been a more fitting name for a town.
Hutch longed for a cigarette, something he hadn't craved since he was alive. He just needed something, anything to take the edge off.
"I take responsibility for this," came the quiet, solemn voice behind him.
Hutch had been peeking around the corner of an alley. He turned around and faced the eight-foot tall figure deeper in. The Master of Death's body was covered by a light brown cloak with a hood pulled low enough that their face was encased in shadow. The only visible parts of them were pale blue-gray hands with long, thin fingers that were now locked in front of their owner's stomach. Hutch walked closer to the demon, worrying his signature hot pink feather boa and looking straight up to speak to Reaper.
Reaper scanned the area, their great height allowing them a better view. Hutch didn't envy them. "My Gargoyles," Reaper's guards/assistants, "had reported that a spirit had arrived at my lair through the portal. I had assumed this meant Vlad Plasmius. It would seem that I had made a grave error in judgment."
Hutch's core seized in his chest. "I went through the portal. Vlad and I had a fight and…" He shook his head. "This is my fault."
"It is not," Reaper assured.
"Well, it's certainly not yours!" Hutch exclaimed. "You may have come late, but you still came. As bad as this is, it would have been worse if you hadn't fought off Vlad." Ancients know I'm nowhere near strong to do it myself, Hutch thought bitterly. Vlad's power level was obscene. Hutch often wondered if it was a halfa thing. "Besides, you gave Vlad the chance to come to you. He…he… You don't know how stubborn he is!"
Hutch dabbed at his eyes with his boa before the tears could fall. Ancients, he really wanted that cigarette.
Reaper surveyed the gruesome scene once more. "Perhaps it is the fault of no one. Or, the fault of everyone. Blame is not always so easy to assign." They kneeled down to just below Hutch's eye level. "I tried to speak with Vlad Masters, but he refuses to see me. Which I understand completely."
"This isn't your fault."
Reaper went on as if Hutch hadn't spoken. "Hutch Blairman, might I assume that the two of you are close?"
He won't want to see me either, Hutch thought. He nodded anyway.
"Perhaps he will speak with you."
The memory of their fight burned a hole in Hutch's mind. He shouldn't have let Vlad fly away. He should have gone after him, power difference be damned. He should have grabbed Vlad and thrown him into the portal and fought tooth and nail to keep him there if he had to.
Twin teardrops slid down Hutch's cheeks. "How do I comfort him? After all this… H-how?"
Reaper placed a hand on Hutch's back. "Be there." The Ancient rose back to their remarkable height. "If you will excuse me. With a tragedy this great, it is imperative that I ensure that the victims' souls go where they need to go."
With that, Reaper turned invisible, and their heavy footsteps were the only sign that they were walking away.
Hutch shot into the air. Survivors pointed at him and screamed and fled however they could. In a normal situation, he wouldn't so carelessly show himself off to the humans.
This situation wasn't normal. Not by a long shot.
As he searched, Hutch wished that he had thought to ask Reaper what Vlad's new form looked like. Hutch quickly realized that he didn't need to ask. What other ghost would be huddled in the pile of brick and plaster that might have been someone's house?
Hutch touched down in front of the halfa who was curled up on the ground. Vlad didn't notice that he was no longer alone. He was too busy glaring with a dark intensity at the shard of glass he was holding.
Hutch found himself studying the man's new ghost-form as well. Vlad's skin was a light greenish blue color. His hair was now jet-black and lacked its old shimmer. His shoulders were broader. The vibrant red of his irises had seeped out, leaving his eyes entirely red.
"Vlad?" Hutch's voice was barely above a whisper. "Is that you?"
Vlad looked up. The fire from their fight had been snuffed out. Not the tiniest spark remained. Vlad's voice was disturbingly hollow when he spoke, and Hutch caught the glint of fangs that weren't there before. "Have you come to say 'I told you so?'"
Later, Hutch would bemoan the loss of Vlad's shimmery blue hair.
Later, Hutch would demand that Vlad find a new outfit because that green shirt clashed terribly with his new skin tone.
Later, Hutch would consider saying "I told you so" and decide that he couldn't do it.
Right now, Hutch got down in front of his dearest friend and held him close.