Black Hat returned to his office and focused on his other work while Dementia sat next to him, played on her phone, and occasionally attempted to flirt.
After almost two hours, the summoning circle Black Hat made lit up showing that the entity he contacted was entering from the other side.
Dementia looked up from her phone and oohed and awed as Lord Reaper finally made his entrance, appearing in the center of the circle.
Lord Reaper was shorter than Black Hat but not by much. His skin was colorless as a corpse's. He was snow, icy white from head to toe just like Blanche was. His lips and eye lids were black. His white hair was tied on top of his head in a bun. He was dressed smartly in a black collared shirt, a purple tie, light purple skinny jeans, a white belt, and black boots. In his white ears, he had gauges. He looked like he was in his thirties at the oldest though he was as ancient as Black Hat.
Lord Reaper was nonchalantly sipping a large iced coffee with one hand, prompting Black Hat to roll his eye, while holding his scythe with the other.
"Hello, Black Hat," Lord Reaper said.
"It took you long enough," Black Hat said in annoyance.
"It couldn't be helped, Black Hat," Lord Reaper retorted. "I had to hop in a shower and get ready. Then I had to tell my Rose what happened and then my other children wanted to know and their descendants wanted to know. Then when I finally left La Maison de la Mort, I simply had to stop to get an iced coffee. Your instructions were to come when I was ready. I don't see why you are so miffed."
"You know why I'm angry, Reaper?" Black Hat snarled.
"Of course," Lord Reaper said, approaching the desk. "Where is my little Melanie?"
"That is a long story," Black Hat explained, sitting on his desk. "It would be easier for you to just read the room."
"If I must," Lord Reaper said, shutting his eyes to concentrate and absorb the information around him.
"What is he doing?" Dementia asked curiously.
"Lord Reaper is clairvoyant," Black Hat explained. "He can look into the past and absorb all the information about what happened just by being in the area where the event occurred. It's what I call reading the room."
Lord Reaper read the room for everything related to Melanie. He saw everything that happened from her initial arrival with her parents to the most recent showdown between Melanie and Black Hat.
After witnessing the latter, his eyes flew open and he snarled, "What did you do to my granddaughter?!"
"I did nothing!" Black Hat snarled back. "Whatever injuries your little brat has she did to herself!"
"That chip wasn't there before your scientist intervened! Besides," Lord Reaper said, raising his hand and summoning Melanie's scythe back from Black Hat as his eyes burned angrily. "…you took her weapon and backed her into a corner! What choice did she have?!"
"None obviously, but that is my business," Black Hat said, straightening his tie. "To make villains and to break heroes."
"BREAK DOESN'T MEAN KILL!" Lord Reaper screeched demonically. "Now, where is my Melanie?! What have you done with her?!"
"WATCH YOUR TONE!" Black Hat screeched back before his voice and demeanor returned to calm, his eyes narrowing angrily at being screeched at while Dementia watched in the background wishing she had popcorn. "She is safe, though recovering. As soon as they are done preparing her, my servants will be presenting her to you."
"And how soon will that be?" Lord Reaper asked, sassily crossing his arms as he dissolved both scythes, a move that instantly reminded Black Hat of Melanie.
"Soon enough," Black Hat said, walking behind his desk, taking a seat, and clasping his hands together in his normal professional manner.
"I see," Lord Reaper said, sitting down in the chair across from Black Hat and setting his iced coffee on the desk. "I know you well enough to know what that means. Tell me, Lord Black Hat. What topic is so prominent in your mind that you are willing to keep me separated from one of my many beloved great-granddaughters?"
"Your granddaughter has proven to be difficult, and a prolonged conflict does not interest me," Black Hat explained, summoning a glass of wine in a goblet made from human bones. "What I wanted for us was to re-educate her until she joins the fold of villainy and use her knowledge and connections to gain intelligence on that bloody Nun-ja Organization, but that has proven more difficult than we thought. As you saw, she was willing and able to eject the tracking chip on her own."
"Yes, my little Melanie can control technology to an extent, an ability that has emerged in only my newest generations," Lord Reaper said proudly.
"Noted," Black Hat said, taking a long sip of wine and prompting Lord Reaper to follow suit with his iced coffee. "But you shouldn't sound so proud. You do understand why the girl is here, correct?"
Lord Reaper sighed as he placed his drink back on the table and said, "Now, I do. You know who and those Nun-jas have whisked away my Melanie's heart and now she's a hero. The poor wayward soul."
Black Hat rolled his eye at the dramatics and said, "Then you know why you're here and what should be done?"
"Of course," Lord Reaper said, standing up dramatically in his chair. "You need my expertise to oversee Melanie's reformation!"
Black Hat could only hope it wouldn't take long, so he wouldn't have to spend all this time with Lord Reaper. Otherwise, it'd be a series of migraines.
As if he could read his mind, Lord Reaper sat back down, dramatically leaned forward, and said, "I look forward to spending the summer with you, Black Hat."
Black Hat barely glanced at him before looking forward away and sipping at his wine in annoyance.
"Now, may I see my granddaughter?" Lord Reaper asked.
Black Hat nodded, glanced at Dementia, and said, "Dementia, get Dr. Flug and the girl immediately."
"Yes, mi bon bon!" Dementia said hopping joyfully out the door.
Once they were alone, Lord Reaper sat up formally in his chair and said, "Now then, shall we discuss tactics?"
Black Hat grinned widely and said, "Gladly. Do you have any ideas?"
"I have a few…" Lord Reaper replied with a sly grin of his own.