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| Return to Life.; Please Mr. Reaper, don't let me die. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 30 2008, 03:09 PM (232 Views) | |
| Kotta | Jul 30 2008, 03:09 PM Post #1 |
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The TinTin Man
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((This is a story I am planning to write in full over the next few months, but I decided to let you all join in to play it out while I figure out how to write it alone on the side. So far, I have chapter One down...)) "What are you afraid of?" The voice echoed softly in his head, tempting the mind beneath that dark black canvas of hair. For a minute, his eyes flashed enviously over that ticking watch around the skinny length of his neck, help up in suspension by the lumps of his shoulder muscles. The pale, almost dead-like skin covering his body created an erie contrast against his black shirt, covering the long torso that preceeded his legs, which preceeded only the ground below. "Time?" The mans moonlight gaze became wider, peering more intently at the second hand as it ticked across the oval world in which it lived, protected from any outside influence. Something about that word, that concept - time. It had a very strong influence upon his attention. It seemed just the sight of the watch could keep his mind occupied for days, if he weren't interupted while inspecting it. "So it is time! Yet, you know that death has no effect upon you. As long as you do your job, you are immortal." A thin arm reached for the watch. The man cupped it in his palm, squeasing it slightly, as if testing its strength. Immortality; He remembered that word well. Forever hell, forever burning in the fire of pure, cold-hearted naturedness. That was immortality, and no one noticed such a fact until their pact was already made. "But nameless, unknown, and feared. What is eternity without anyone to share it with?" "...And what's life without something to fear for losing?" Theo had to think on the question. In a way, the voice was right. Life is precious because you fear death, and death is hated because of what He takes. Without death, there would be no life. However, Theo preferred to think that life without the fear of death was: "Living." Theo remembered his life before death. He was care-free: Crossing streets without a second glance, drinking until the morning came, riding his motorcycle at high speeds. That was all gone now, but he considered that living. If he had feared death, he would have chose a hummer. "You think that these humans live a life worth eternity?" "I don't think they deserve to be blindsighted so much. Pain, suffering, hunger..." "...And careless consideration for what's to come." "Let's not forget that I was one of these humans. Be careful of what you say, or I'll..." "You'll what? Kill me?! Don't be foolish! We are both dead. The only way you can escape this is to end your agreement, and I doubt you wish to do that. You have been the best reaper in history! Your numbers are off the chart. When other forms of death fail, you make the possibilities happen. You know you wouldn't find peace if you ended your pact now." It was true. Despite his hatred of the pact he agreed to years ago, Theo could never even dream of going back on his contract. Hell - literally hell - awaited him with anxious pitch-forks if he did. At the very least, he wouldn't have the red-carpet treatment. At the very worst.... Well, he'd rather not consider that. "Do I have to remind you of your duties?" "I believe you mean 'duty'. No 's' on the end." "That's a no, then." Of course it was a no! How do you forget a job where all you have to do is take life, and figure out ways to make it look believable. Cancer, disease, accidents - all like a strategic game of chess. Today, Theo's job was to take the pawn known as 0078339456 - or Emilia Littleton as the real world knew her. So far, his plan was simply to hit her with an out-of-control, under-the-influence driver. Inside the vehicle, the driver would be unharmed, but the subject 099668457 - Christopher Deitrich - would be thrown out of the windshield after the young lady crunched between the wall of the nearby pharmacy, braking his skull on the pavement ten feet ahead. As bloody and horrible as it seemed, this was all small-scale planning on Theo's part. He loved car crashes. They were easy to plan, and easy for people to accept as normal. Subject 0078339456 - Emilia Littleton, 20 years old, female, independent. Subject 099668457 - Chistopher Deitrich, 7 years old, male, dependent. "So, when does the show begin?" Theo took a quick look at his watch, promptly responding to the voice inside his head. "Now." (( So, the concept is pretty straight-forward. Theo is a Reaper (not the only one. There are more in other juristictions.) and the voice in his head is sort of a 'law' keeper for whom he works for - death. This is sort of a perspective of death and his job, from his view. Where shall it go? Love? Deceipt? Pure chaos? Nowhere? )) |
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| Kotta | Aug 6 2008, 11:14 PM Post #2 |
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The TinTin Man
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(This might not tie in well with the role-play you had in mind, but it is what I wrote today in addition to this all. If it screws up your creative juices, I will remove it. I just wanted it to be readable. ; ) ) The spinning hands of his watch ticked, Theo waiting for the sounds of death to rummage the chattering streets. He was certain it would happen like clockwork, following in suit with all the other deaths he so skillfully planned: There would be an instance of silence, followed shortly thereafter by a substantial moment of panic. Some would scream; Others would gasp. Even more would leave their mouth wide open, watching the scene with an odd amount of curiosity that could only be matched by an insane, rabbies-infected dog hungry for some sort of distraction. Humans, Theo thought to himself. Bored to the point that death amuses them. The watch sent out its whisper again, and what usually sounded like a symphony of music to Theo's ears left a note of disappointment. Something was wrong. His watch was off, and although the error were only a second, a reaper knows just how much power a second holds. In a second, Subject 0078339456, Emilia Littleton, had her time to take one unplanned step, which would send the whole plan reeling out the window. "Shit!" Theo didn't like his job, but he disliked the prospect of failure even more. Some failure would be inevitable, and he certainly wouldn't breach his contract with one failed number to tack onto his score, but too much and trouble would find him in an instant - unknowingly so, if his watch stayed on its own schedule. Where a human relies on time to make it to appointments in an orderly fashion, a reaper relies on his watch as a life-line. The slightest miscalculation would send all of his plans into a state of unreliability. Unless he got his watch fixed, he was going to have to re-plan a whole weeks worth of work. "Shit, shit, shit! Who messed with my fucking watch!?" It is a genius invention; The Reapers Watch. Death created it himself. It is unaffected by age, by time changes, and by as much outside rousing as you can imagine. The only way a reapers watch can be off schedule is if the reaper adjusts it himself, which can only be done with the permission of Death himself. Since Theo had no knowledge of how to adjust the watch, he knew that he hadn't tampered with the gadget. Someone was out of their juridiscion. "Who was it!? You know better than I do." His normal chatterbox mind was silent. His helping spirit was gone; Or was he ignoring Theo? In all his years as a reaper (thirteen, to be exact), Theo had never had anything go wrong, and he certainly hadn't had the pleasure of his mind without bother from that nagging voice. Something was up. "Hey, send word to the big man! My watch is off." Theo tried again. Maybe he hadn't channeled his thoughts correctly. Still, he was met by an odd silence. "Hey, you stupid bastard! I know you can..." "The show has certainly begun, Theo, and not a moment off schedule. Enjoy, cocky son of a bitch." The words broke apart in his mind, his ears filling with the high-pitched ring of an oncoming headache. The pain started in the back of his skull, traveling down his spine with all the intensity of a whole swarm of wasps stinging his vertabre all at once. While he tried to resist the urge to scream, Theo's legs eventually buckled from the pain, and as he fell to his knees, a loud yell erupted from his pale lips, rising from deep within his chest. "STOP IT! AHH!" His request was met with the familiar lack of mercy that Theo had shown all of his victims over his many years as a reaper. The veins just under his skin (although cold and void of much blood-flow) bulged outward, creating a vine-like pattern of purple underneath his cover of hair. Slowly, the pattern traveled down all the tunnels of his body. The intensity of his anguish grew with each inch that the blood rushed. When the pain was too much to bare, Theo fell face first into the ground in-front of him. His nose cracked from underneath his own weight. Violent thrashes of unspoken pleas for this all to go away continued to go unanswered. Black blood flowed from any scrape it could find, until finally it all stopped. With the speed of a dragonfly making a ninety-degree turn in midair, the pain left. Only his bleeding scrapes and broken nose lay testament to the ordeal he just faced. Surely this is a joke. Theo thought to himself. A sick, twisted joke. Death is merely fooling with me, the massacistic bastard. Theo waited for some reassurance to his thoughts, but the voice was clearly gone. His helping spirit had left with the pain that he just went through. Regaining his strength from the rough convulsions, Theo sat back onto the heels of his boots, ignoring the bleeding scrapes and pain in his nose. His eyes focused upon the one tool that mattered most to him: His watch. As long as it worked, he could fix things. He just had to appeal well to another reaper, with enough pay-off that they would fix this whole situation - starting with the watch. Bringing his arms up to cradle the watch within his palms, Theo examined the ticking hands to see how off they had become. He was met with even more hardship: The hands of the watch were spinning out of control. If this was a trick from Death, he was certainly going out of his way to get his laugh. Theo wasn't finding any humor in it. "Shit!" It had become his favorite word. He just couldn't think of any other way to respond to what he was experiencing. If he didn't figure things out, he wouldn't be alive for long. |
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7:14 PM Jul 10