"Hey, Miss Maka! How'd it go?" The seven-foot tall keeper of the Death Room tipped its masked face to one side as if bending a non-existent ear toward her. In the past year, Maka had gotten used to the fact that the Lord Death she'd always known was a construct that Kid's father used to help him operate simultaneously on multiple levels. She wasn't, however, comfortable with the idea of looking into Death's almost-human eyes, so like Kid's, and admitting defeat. She knew it silly, and a little cowardly, but it was easier to retreat into her comfort zone and head to the Death Room for disappointing official reports. Failures didn't seem quite as awful when you were explaining them to a loopy seven-foot-tall puppet.
"Not so good," Maka admitted, and they allowed themselves to slump in mutual defeat for a moment.
"Well, you made an awfully big bang this time!" the puppet finally said, attempting to brighten things up. Maka wasn't having any of it.
"Yeah, and I lost control of it.' she said bitterly 'I could have killed us all if Kid hadn't stepped in. And we were three miles short of the target even with him deflecting the power in the right direction. In a real-life scenario that could mean the difference between taking out a military target and blowing up a preschool."
An oversized hand patted her back consolingly, "There, there. It's not all bad news. The demonstrations, especially today's, are impressive. You ought to hear the phone calls we're getting! Nobody but us knows that we don't have control of the Soul Bomb technique, but they do know it's powerful. For a lot of our concerns, the threat alone will be enough. Once you learn to control it, we'll make a few modifications, and then we'll be able to back up that threat."
"What kind of modifications?" panic compressed Maka's lungs. She was nowhere close to being in control of the technique, and he was already talking about modifying it?
The puppet retreated a little, clasping its hands behind its back and looking up at the clouds scudding across the too-blue sky. All it needed to do was whistle a little tune to make the picture of false innocence complete.
"Well," Death finally ventured, "If we could add an extra source of power….."
"More!" Maka interrupted, "What we have now could take out half a city. How much bigger does it need to be?"
"I'm thinking of destructive capability, not size. I'd like to have the option of completely obliterating an enemy. If an opponent's soul were to be used as fuel, it might be utterly consumed."
The cheerful voice made the ominous statement all the more frightening. Maka wanted to ask what the hell needed obliterating so badly but was afraid to ask. She probably wouldn't get a straight answer, anyway. Even though she was involved in creating the weapon, it's potential use was currently on a classified level way over her head. And in any case, how was she supposed to do it?
She must have looked as horrified as she felt because Death abruptly changed the subject.
"Well, enough about that!" he exclaimed, "Tell me how you're getting along personally. Been practicing your lessons?"
If there was such a thing as mental whiplash, Maka was pretty sure she was experiencing it.
"Uh...yes. I have, Sir," she stumbled over her words as she tried to pull her thoughts away from mysterious mass destruction and shove them toward the exercises in controlling Reaper magic she'd been receiving, "I'm doing a little better on those. Not great yet, but it's getting easier."
"And what about your personal bond with Kid? How are you doing with that?"
The question held such an undercurrent of seriousness that Maka got the impression she momentarily had every aspect of Lord Death's complete, undivided attention.
"We've got it under control," she said, grateful to finally able to give an unconditionally positive report, "We can block it completely if we need to, even when one of us is trying to break through. And we can open or close it as much as we need to, sort of like a volume control. It's not overwhelming like it was in the beginning."
Since forming their soul bond, she and Kid had worked hard to make controlling it an unconscious habit. They generally kept it at a level that allowed them to be aware of each other, but without its original intensity, the link was no longer a distraction. Maka had grown to cherish the little bond that gave her a direct line to Kid's soul, and knowing that he felt the same way gave her a deep and adored-feeling satisfaction.
Lord Death nodded approvingly.
"Well, that's good news! Okey-dokey, I think we're done for today. Off you go!"
"Oh...O-okay," Maka faltered, startled by the sudden dismissal. Anxiety took a firmer hold as she wondered if she'd displeased him with her poor overall progress. She turned toward the corridor leading from the Death Room, suddenly and acutely aware of the sharp guillotine blades hanging from its ceiling. For the first time in a long while, they seemed like manifestations of potential failure hanging over her head.
A large finger dropped on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.
"Oh no! Not that way!" the puppet spun her around and pointed toward the ornate mirror on the other side of the Death Room, "I want to see you do your stuff!"
"Besides," it added slyly, "This is much faster, and don't you have a date tonight?"
"Uh, yes," Maka answered weakly. She was beginning to doubt her sanity in thinking that dealing with Lord Death's alter ego was better than talking to the man himself.
She marched over to the mirror, determined to make a good showing. Her green eyes narrowed in concentration and then closed as her fingertips made light contact with the cold, smooth glass. She took a deep breath and focused on the bit of Kid's power that resided inside of her. Encouraging it to draw up her arms and through her fingers, she visualized her bedroom. Purple sparks zipped over the mirror's frame and lit up the insides of her eyelids. An electrical zing shot from her hands all the way to the top of her head, and the pressure against her skin disappeared.
"Very good!" Death exclaimed, leaning in to examine the portal she'd opened.
She smiled, warmed by the praise.
"I'll report back after our next practice," she promised.
"Okay! Fine! Great! Now scoot along," The puppet agreed cheerfully, as she stepped through the mirror, "Have fun tonight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do! Wait, I take that back. There isn't much I wouldn't do. That's not good advice," It paused for a moment, tapping its fractured mask impatiently, "Think, think, think…..good advice...good advice...Oh! I've got it! Don't drink over-brewed tea!" it called to Maka's retreating back.