Chapter 5 - I Am Reaper

Ming Ling squeaked in fear, falling on her backside on the floor of the bathroom as she stared at the eccentric sight before her in the bathtub. It was turned on, yet the only occupant of the shower was the plunger..sitting in the middle of the tub.

"The hell...?" Ming Ling muttered, standing up slowly as she eyed the plunger for a few moments..expecting it to spring to life and shout 'do you mind?' or something to that degree; she needed to stop watching soo much cartoons. Shaking her head, she leaned forward, shutting off the water as she gave a sigh and placed the plunger in it's rightful spot next to the toilet. "Must have turned on by itself...weirder crap has happened." she then said to herself reassuringly. Sure, a few of her lamps have turned on while unplugged, and strange messages had been scrawled on the mirrors. But this was a new one to chalk up. Then again; haunted houses never had an explaination for what they did. Deadmen tell now tales after all. Turning to the window, she then shut it tightly; just to be sure no one was trying to break in. Weird though, she could have sworn the screen was shut too. Nevertheless, she closed the sliding door behind her and headed back downstairs to bed after checking every room in the upstairs just to be safe.

The moon hung like a ghostly galleon riding through the soft whispy clouds, it was a beautiful sight and the air was crisp and cool; rare for a pre-summer night which was usually muggy and stiffling. A lone figure walked through the streets of the tiny town of Berwick, a soft breeze whipping through his long black cloak as he reached up to pull his hood down more over his face. Boots echoing off the semi wet pavement of pitch black. Hair as dark as the night sky partially billowed from the hood in two long luxurious strands reaching down past his elbows, a lose hair hanging partially in his face. His skin was as pale as snow, making his pink hues even more haunting from underneath his hood as he gazed up at the sky. It felt good to move around again...after god knows how many years of being trapt in that damn stifling hell of a place. Yes the air smelled wonderful, and the simple act of moving around was bliss to this male. He hadnt felt this good in eons..and yesterday was the pure heights of his joy of freedom....oh those girl's faces. Their screams of agony and begging for their lives as he tore through their delicate flesh, yes it brought back soo many wonderful memories of his past.

How his master ordered him to strike down those who opposed him, dictators, warlords, etc. Visions of brutally torn up corpses; heads barely clinging to their necks..others hardly recognizable..some even torn to sheer ribbons or evaporated. His attack was always quick and fierce; made vicious by the sheer joy of killing, of feeling the blood stain his marble white skin, of the sounds that greeted his ears of his victem's screams of agony. Ah yes it was a drug he couldnt get enough of. As he looked back on these memories, he glanced down at his one hand, a hand that had, just the night before, been stained in blood as thick as it could get for tearing someone apart. He sneered and nibbled lightly on his sharp black fingernails, sucking on the index nail in hopes of getting some left over caked blood out from underneath. Alas to no avail, he had cleaned himself throughly after the massacare to make sure he left no trail. The taste just before made him giddy though. Ah the girls may have been sluts, but their blood tasted oh soo good. Humans were such tasty creatures...despite their ugly nature. How he wanted to kick Dr. Dunstan at times for forcing him to serve them.

The cloaked male turned a corner, passing by a drunken cluster of females and a few males. They shared a few chuckles at the male's choice of clothing. Some even whistling at him to catch his attention. The dark haired youth payed them no mind, soon the cries of the lark or the whispers of the sandman would send them back to their homes. Turning into a nearby alley, he treked down the path, passing by a few businesses, a shut down chinese restruant, a tanning salon, a roof and carpenter outlet, etc. Mostly houses greeted his vision though, some were fancy, though most were on the brink of ruin or had that 'wolf in sheeps clothing' appearence. Lovely on the outside, but horrendous on the inside. Conversations filled his ears, arguements, discussions about finances, family matters, the whole shebang. Humans and their bothersome worries..soo fickle they were, and obnoxious. It turned his stomach at how high up on the food chain they thought they were, just because they were smarter than apes and had thumbs; tch! If only they knew what walked amongst them. Continuing to walk on through the alley, he caught sight of a weed choked lot with an abandoned run-down barn far past it's prime. Walking over, he looked up at the roof before giving a quick yet agile leap, landing on a sturdy part of the structure. Taking a seat then, he layed back and gazed up at the moon more. Still though..not all humans were annoying and kill-worthy. There was that one that caught his attention. One that ingtrigued him greatly. They were human in nature yes; but had the personality of a demon when pushed enough to the brink. They also reminded him of a venus fly trap. A simple looking plant upon first glance...but get too close and you'll lose your fingers. He chuckled at the thought; carrying out that deed for them made sense now.

"Hey boy!" A call sounded from the high brick wall next to the barn caught the male's ears. A leg was flung over into sight, and then a scrungy youth of about adolescent age, perhaps sixteen pulled himself into view. Boy the cloaked male thought sarcastically. If only they knew, he thought, smirking in anticapation while he sat up.

"Yeah you!" Came a deeper voice. Another adolescent youth, perhaps a tad older, stepped out from behind some shrubs adjacent the alleyway path. He was a big fella in jeans and a plaid shirt, giving off the appearence of a lumberjack. Then a sneering boy clad in a sterotypical leather jacket followed close behind.

"This is our turf." hissed the leather clad boy. He carried a half empty brown bottle of liquior and weaved about; signs that he couldnt carry his drink well. His right hand flashed silver; a knife no doubt. Heh; like that pitiful weapon could slow the cloaked youth down. A scuffling announced the descent of the wall straddler, a thud his official landing. The trio spread out and converged on the cloaked male. He rose slightly from his perch, muscles tightening. The boys then advanced once the cloaked male stood up, walking over casually as he dropped down from the barn of the roof, hands tucking behind his back in that elegant fashion. They circled him like vultures would a dying animal..heh little did they know how foolish they were at deciding to be brave tonight.

"Isn't it alittle early for Halloween?" The lumberjack asked noticing the eccentric cloak the dark haired youth wore; laughing as he said it.

"Where you from?"

"You aint from around here it looks."

"Nobody here knows you."

"Yeah." said the wall climber. "And if nobody knows you, you aint nobody." He giggled, a high-pitched nervous sound, and wiped his hands off on his ragged ACDC T-shirt.

Nobody. Even this scum called him nobody. This defiently was going to be a fun night now. The cloaked youth stepped forward towards the inpending danger, into their net. Little did they know, these punks had caught a shark this time. Showing no signs of annoyance, he simply smiled at the trio of dimwitted boys.

"Pretty tough eh?" Said the big male mockingly. The boy with the leather jacket placed his bottle in between two bricks lying near the barn where he stood.

"Pretty stupid you mean." He corrected, tossing his knife from hand to hand. "You a retard or somethin?"

"Yeah, he's too stupid to be afraid of us." The hooded cloak wearer turned his back on the third teen, the one who exclaimed this. He was a sheep. The lumberjack was a bully, but the leather-clad one was a problem. He was crazy. He smoked herb, the cloaked one could smell it clearly on him. It reeked like burning plastic and it killed the brain. It made people think they couldn't die. How he'd love to disprove that logic to this punk. The weak did indeed love to bear their fangs when in packs. And though the cloaked male loved to tear people to shreds...conflict was rarely on his mind at times. He just preferred to relax and enjoy the quiet tranquility. But a display of power was necessary at times; and this seemed like a wonderful time to educate these mindless saps.

"This is our playground little man." The leather clad one exclaimed confidently.

"Yeah, wanna play?" The big one added, cracking his knuckles as he looked down upon his victem, who seemed like a mouse in comparison.

The cloaked male then finally spoke. "Funny, your mother said the same thing to me last night."

"Son of a.." The big one charged, swinging his huge fists in a rage. Cute how a simple mother joke flared tempers; far too easy. The cloaked youth stepped aside with ease, far faster than thought could comprehend. The lumbering male stumbled looking confused. Turning then like an angry bear to attack his opponent again. The cloaked male smiled, stepping aside once more. The big brute was starting to breathe heavily. The hooded male sneered. Get the biggest one and the rest scramble like startled geese. However he kept the crazy one in his sights at all times, you never really knew with dusters.

The duo danced a lopsided waltz on the wast ground, and the big youth's fury escalated more and more. Then the cloaked youth stood still. The brute grabbed, he expected to miss, but to his surprise, found that the quarry was his. Panting heavily, he managed an evil grin, having the smaller cloaked male's arm in a crushing hold as he swung his arm back, readying to punch. And the cloaked youth, who didnt even come up to his chin in height, clutched the boy's belt with his free hand and lifted him into the air as if he were light as an infant kitten. The large male waved his arms like an insect and gurgled with fear. The boy in the jacket spat an oath, but was frozen like a dear in headlights. The sheep of the flock trembled but couldnt move either. The cloaked male threw his opponent then, an impossible distance. The hulk of a boy sailed through the air for a moment, then crashed into a pile of debris. The sound broke the spell and the cloaked male heard the weakling of the group retreat like a terrified mouse. But the boy with the knife laughed. He slinked forward, steel flickering in the streetlight. He had no doubt been in a fight or two the cloaked male surmised; but probly won through sheer viciousness, not skill. Best to deal with him as a cat does a rat- no playing, snap it fast.

The leather clad boy was expecting another dance, not for his victem to walk up to him. He hesitated a second, confronted with insanity far greater than his own. He slashed then, his knife digging into the flesh of his opponent's face. Sneering confidently, he laughed, but it went dry in his throat when he was greeted with an eerie sight. Lifting his head up after the knife dug into his skin, creating a gash across the bridge of his nose and under both eyes, blood poured freely down his face as the cloaked male sneered wildly, revealing his sharp canines while his pink eyes glowed brightly with excitement. The leather clad male staggered backwards as the cloaked male then licked the blood that oozed out of his own wound when it dripped around the corners of his mouth; not caring about the severity of the cut. Walking forward now, he kept that insane smile on the leather clad male..oh how quickly the tables turned, the big bad snake hadnt expected the prey to turn and face him. The leather clad youth slashed wildly in fear, but too late. His knife went flying. His arm captured, for a second, went limp, and searing, now useless as he screamed in agony. Backing away, he trembled.

It was the cloaked youth's turn to laugh; a sound dark and manicial. The punch he landed snapped the leather clad boy back and smashed him against the wall. The boy started to slide to the ground, but elegant white hands reached for him delicately and slammed him once more against the wall. The third blow left him unconcious and flooded the cloaked male's mind with the sweet warm pleasure to kill.

"Call me nobody?" He whispered, and bared his fangs. "Call me nobody?!" He screamed again, this time as if in pain. He then hoisted his victem up, tearing the leather clad boy's wrist open with a savage scissoring of claws. He raised the boy's arm up, and with the pulsing blood, wrote wavering letters on the wall behind him: I AM REAPER.

The dark, raw smell of blood intoxicated the cloaked male. He found himself embracing the boy and pulling the bleeding wrist up to his mouth. Faintly, somewhere, he felt disgust. A distant echo cried for him to stop. But the joy of death and the scent of blood was far too great. He almost placed a reverent kiss upon the wound until the sound of sirens came too close. Growling, he pushed the limp body away from him, but it seemed to cling. For a moment he felt trapt, but anger soon took hold as he snarled, hands raising up and morphing into serrated claws of epic porportions. Bringing them down upon the victem, he sliced the body into three seperate ragged sections, freeing himself.

Then the hooded male was running. He fled past his first assailant, now staring with white faced horror, through the rubble of the barn. Out into the night the cloaked male ran, on and on through the city, dodging cars as they honked their disapprovel as he vanished from their sights just as quickly as he came, on and through yards, ignoring the yelping and snarling of startled dogs. Until at last he came to his destination, a quaint brown bricked house with a large backyard and a long old crumbling fence. The house next to it was long abandoned, and sported a large garage that was currently open. Leaping over the fence, he made his way into the garage, panting as he huddled in a corner. That was far too close...and why the hell did he scrawl that message on the wall?! People did strange things when in the midst of a high..so he guessed that was the explanation. Well; at least he didnt give his true name. Reaper..heh. It seemed to fit; what with the outfit he chose to wear during his nightly travels. Leaning his head back against the decaying wood, he glanced out of the garage's opening, looking up at the brown bricked house next door. A smirk coming to his lips as he idly licked at the blood on his fingers. The person he carried the deed out for, she lived here. After that rude inneruption from his train of thoughts, he could now return to them finally as he pondered why he served her; even though they hadnt made the vow. Maybe it wasent just the fact she had a very evil mind when angered enough. It was something though..something not even his heart or mind reading could discern. Something warm...peaceful dwelling within her. Was it something that he longed for too? Is that why he stuck around like he did?

"Heh...I guess that's just my namesake. Envying those who have what I dont." He then muttered to himself bitterly, before he closed his eyes, sighing. "shoot, this is going to be a long long summer."


(Author's Note yet again weee! -bricked-
Anyways, for those of you who probly recognized the clothing this fella is wearing in both this chapter and chapter 3, it was indeed inspired by Tensa Zangetsu of Bleach. And this chapter was also inspired abit from a very old vampire story I read long ago in grade school, so props to them for giving me the idear. nn)

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