A Hellish Reap
Title: A Hellish Reap
Characters: Ezekiel Stone and Lucifer from Brimstone, Rube and George.
Genres: General
Rating:PG-13 (mostly for cussing)
Warnings: Spoilers for S2 of Dead Like Me
Summary: George's day didn't improve much when she met a strange cop.
Word Count: 2,400ish
For Challenge #8 at dlm_fanfiction
A Hellish Reap
George Lass was not having fun. Her appointment with S. Wireman was at a church a couple blocks away, yet it was one of Those days. The kind of day that you fall out of bed onto the floor, then your coffee machine breaks, and you step in a pile of dog shit on your way to work. Then, the stupid photocopier (guaranteed to never jam or the company pays for the repairman) jams and the files you were trying to copy get splashed with ink from its bowels. Even her daily trip to Der Waffle Haus threatened to tip her over the edge. Usually she found Mason’s fucked up company amusing, but today she just wanted to borrow Roxy’s gun and shoot him.
And it was raining.
‘Why do we only get an initial anyway? What if there were two S. Wireman’s there at the same time. Only one post-it means only one death, but how the hell am I supposed to know whether it’s Sally or Sam? It’s not like I got any psychic powers when I died.’ George scowled, climbing the stone stairs in front of the church slowly so she could rub off some of the dog shit residue. She wasn’t religious, but nobody likes the scent of excrement.
She hoped.
The church wasn’t very fancy on the outside, just your typical church made of gray rock; but the inside had more texture. The carpet was worn by hundreds of people’s shoes over the years, but the walls were covered in stained wooden paneling, and the benches actually looked new. Somewhat. The stained glass windows were pretty, but she’d seen nicer at another church (though she had spent most of the sermon sleeping). The altar was the most interesting for George, mainly because there were a few shiny goblets and a whole table of unlit candles nearby. Well, the shiny things and the exit sign to its left.
Ducking into one of the alcoves in case someone was actually in the church and mistook her for a Catholic, she tried to figure out how this S. Wireman fellow was going to die. The three giant fans over the pews seemed to a fair bet, but there were plenty of things that could happen.
“Hope S. Wireman’s car broke down or something.” She muttered, glancing at her watch.
“That’s not a very charitable thought.” A man’s kind voice chided, sounding mildly amused. “Are my sermon’s that boring?”
The reaper turned around so quickly she almost hit him with her umbrella. “Jesus Christ, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
The priest gave her a sheepish smile and extended his hand. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to sneak. Would you like me to put that in the umbrella stand for you?”
“Erm, sure.” She handed it over, slightly embarrassed.
“I’m Father Steven,” the middle-aged man continued, setting the umbrella inside an old wooden stand that smelled a bit like mold.
“George.” She held out her hand, taking his soul just before he let go.
As she talked to the priest, she saw a graveling slink across the floor in front of them and up the wall, using the large beams supporting the roof to jump onto the first fan. They were about to walk into the church’s main chamber when the door burst open. A desperate-looking man with torn clothing ran into the church, heading straight for them. The priest shielded her with his body instinctively, and started to beg the man to calm down. Not seeming to hear, the man lifted the priest up by his collar and continued to run, pushing George out of his way. “Betchoo won’t shoot a priest!” He yelled, holding the priest out in front of him as if he were no heavier than a doll.
His pursuer was another man wielding a gun whose eyes only narrowed when he spotted the hostage. He spared the reaper a quick glance and followed his prey, gun ready to fire. “Let him go. This is between us.”
“Like I’m goin’ ta give ya a free shot! I ain’t goin’ back there man!” He backed away as the other advanced, out of the shadow of the first fan where the graveling was still watching.
“Of course you are. Either now when you hurt the priest, or later when I hunt you down again. You really shouldn’t add killing a priest to your list of sins, it would only give It more power.”
“Damn ya!” The man yelled, tossing the priest towards his pursuer before running towards the exit faster than any human had the right to move. At the same time, the graveling slashed at the chain supporting the fan and jumped back to the support beam to watch. The massive piece of metal and plastic fell on the priest’s midsection as he hit the ground, killing him instantly. The hunted man turned around at the noise, the door’s handle in hand. “That doesn’t count!”
The sandy-haired man fired twice, and blue-white light burst from his prey’s eyes, encasing him in blue mist as he fell through the floor with a scream. The floor was perfectly intact not even a second later.
“Where the hell was his post-it? Because that is seriously fucked up.” George announced, walking over to her confused reap. Her eyes were on the shooter though. “Who the hell are you?”
“Detective Ezekiel Stone,” he flashed his badge so fast that George couldn’t read a word on it. “And post-it?” He added, a polite expression on his face. This reaction was new.
“I’m dead.” The priest said numbly, looking at his crushed corpse.
“Get over it, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Who are you talking to?”
‘So he’s not a reaper.’ George mused, noticing a few more gravelings had joined their buddy on the fan out of the corner of her eye. ‘Odd.’ She frowned, forcing her mind back to the man in front of her. “What are you?”
Zeke blinked. “Human of course.”
“Then what was he?” She crossed her arms. “Human don’t do that when they get shot. Bits and pieces fly off and blood gets over everything. They don’t fall through a perfectly ordinary floor.”
“That, child, was a damned soul.” A man drawled from behind her. She caught a whiff of sulphur as he walked past her and the priest (who suddenly sank to his knees in horror). The cop grimaced as he spotted the face in the shadows of a wide-brimmed hat. The newcomer smirked and slapped him on the back amiably, making the cop take a step forward. “Mr. Stone, you found yourself an interesting young dead girl, you cad.”
“Huh? She’s-”
“No, you got lucky.”
“Who are you?” George asked suspiciously. She had never met somebody who immediately knew she was dead. To her surprise, the five gravelings on the ceiling fan jumped down, and knelt at his sides, hissing at her, the cop, and the blubbering priest’s soul. “The graveling king?”
He winked at her; aware that she could see the cloud of dark mist creeping around him that ensnared the rotten souls she called gravelings and the good-looking cop, who could not. Zeke was giving him a foul look though. The weight of being in a church was a heavy burden to bear, but this was an opportunity that did not come along very often. “Curious as ever George.”
“How’d you know my name?”
“You destroyed one of mine.” He gestured towards the gravelings, who hissed at the cue before huddling where they stood once again. “A newcomer who was created by your friends.” He added, taking a step towards George. Pitch-black eyes seemed to paralyze her, his words snaking around her mind like a dense fog that inhibited thought. “You reapers have powers that interest me. For instance, sending a soul on its way with a mere touch, to heaven or hell.” His smirk widened at the cop’s sudden look of horror. “If she had touched you, she would have sent you back to my loving embrace forever, Mr. Stone. What would your beloved widow say to that, hmm?”
“Widow?” She echoed numbly, looking at the cop who seemed to freeze. The soul at her side was making signs against evil, praying desperately for their salvation. The creature was only a couple feet away now.
“Shut up.” The graveling’s king said pleasantly, and the soul’s words were suddenly muted. “Why don’t you take my hand and I’ll show you how to use your power to the fullest, so you can protect your family.”
To her horror, she felt herself nod and reach out to him to seal the bargain.
“George!” The doors of the church crashed open once again and Rube strode in, reminding her of a sodden bear about to attack. She had never felt so glad to see him. “Get away from it!” He added, and that allowed her to back away, grabbing her reap’s wrist as she backed away. The fury in those black eyes made her break into a run. Rube met her at the first pew, pulling her against him reassuringly. “C’mon peanut.”
“What the hell is he Rube?”
“Not the time George. I had to kick gravelings out of my way the whole way here and the longer we stay here, the less chance we have of leaving.”
“Who said anything about leaving, Rube Sofer?” The creature sneered. “You’re almost as good a catch as she is, and I already have jurisdiction over your soul.”
“Not yet you don’t.” He answered without looking back.
“How about we make a deal?”
“No.”
“But I haven’t heard from you for the better part of a century. Is this any way to treat an old friend?”
“C’MON peanut.” He staggered once, but kept on pulling her out of the church. “We have to get out of here or they won’t be able to cleanse it.”
“Who?”
“Upper management.” He answered as they crossed the threshold.
Gravelings swarmed around the courtyard, grabbing at the priest’s robes and hissing and spitting at the reapers. However, Rube seemed to regain some of his strength as they left the church and an animalistic cry of rage echoed from the church. Instantly, the gravelings (and the pressure around them) disappeared.
It was only when they were in the relative safety of Der Waffle Haus that she persuaded Steven Wireman that it was time to move on. Relieved of that responsibility, she let Rube order two slices of strawberry cheesecake and sat down. “What was that Rube? The gravelings were all docile and everything.”
“You would be too if you were under its jurisdiction.”
“So he is the graveling king. Who was the other one though? He didn’t seem so bad.”
“Don’t repeat this to anyone, peanut, but there was a breach of security years ago. To control the damage, lower management decided to use one of Its souls to recollect those who escaped.”
“Lower management…” She prodded.
“Lucifer Morningstar.”
George dropped her fork. “He really exists!? I thought it was a demon or something but the Devil is way beyond that.”
“Never go near It again George. Never. If It didn’t have a grudge against you before, It does now. If It ever gets a hold of you, it will increase you soul count until infinity, and even then It’ll drag you down.”
“Rube?” She asked, eyes wide in horror.
“You’re still fine. Upper management is good at keeping Its powers restricted. The only way It can get you is if you willingly touch It, or if you make any type of deal.”
“Not happening.”
“Good.”
“How’d he get in the church though? I mean, you know…” She made a cross with her fingers.
“I’m guessing It used the cop as an anchor.” Rube shrugged, and would not answer any more of her questions.
^^^
The next day, George spotted the cop at Der Waffle Haus. After making sure Rube was not in the vicinity, she slid into the booth in front of him. “Your boss is sneaky.”
“You have no idea.” The cop finished one waffle and set his fork down beside the five unfinished ones. George knew she would never be able to finish such a pile, but the cop didn’t seem intimidated. “Could you really send me back?” He asked, piling more maple syrup on his waffles.
“Probably, but only if I tried and I’m not going to do that. And if I see any more of those creatures, I’ll save you some bullets.”
“How about you give me a call instead?” He grabbed a napkin and she handed him a pen she had ‘borrowed’ from Happy Time. “Thank you. If I’m not the one who does the work, he’ll wiggle out of his side of the deal and then I’d really be screwed.”
“What is your deal exactly?”
“I return the hundred and thirteen souls that got away from him, and he gives me back my life.”
“Can he do that?” She asked, shaking her head at Kiffany when she looked their way.
“I’m not sure, but I’ve me some of his relatives that seem willing to keep his promise for him if I do the work.”
“Relatives.” She said blandly. “Like angels?”
“I think so. To me they look like him, but they actually act nice.”
“So Heaven and all that stuff’s real?”
“I don’t know about Heaven, but Hell sure is. I spent fifteen years there. Anyway, what are you?”
“A reaper. I collect souls and send them on their way.”
“Then the priest…”
“Yeah.”
“And he actually talked to you?”
“Well, he was more concerned with the fact that your boss was strolling around his church.”
“It gave him a rash.”
“Really?”
“No, but he’s acting like someone shoved a hot rod up his ass so I assume there’s a reason he doesn’t do it often.”
“Sorry.”
Zeke just grinned. “I’ve had him angrier at me before. At the moment, he’s bitching more about the ones Up There.”
“Oh?”
“I shot him in the eyes once.”
“He must have taken that well.” George remarked, thinking ‘he’s very good-looking for a hell cop.’
“I think the sight of one of his relatives prevented him from really skewering me.”
“This is so weird.”
“That’s one word for it.” Zeke agreed.
Characters: Ezekiel Stone and Lucifer from Brimstone, Rube and George.
Genres: General
Rating:PG-13 (mostly for cussing)
Warnings: Spoilers for S2 of Dead Like Me
Summary: George's day didn't improve much when she met a strange cop.
Word Count: 2,400ish
For Challenge #8 at dlm_fanfiction
A Hellish Reap
George Lass was not having fun. Her appointment with S. Wireman was at a church a couple blocks away, yet it was one of Those days. The kind of day that you fall out of bed onto the floor, then your coffee machine breaks, and you step in a pile of dog shit on your way to work. Then, the stupid photocopier (guaranteed to never jam or the company pays for the repairman) jams and the files you were trying to copy get splashed with ink from its bowels. Even her daily trip to Der Waffle Haus threatened to tip her over the edge. Usually she found Mason’s fucked up company amusing, but today she just wanted to borrow Roxy’s gun and shoot him.
And it was raining.
‘Why do we only get an initial anyway? What if there were two S. Wireman’s there at the same time. Only one post-it means only one death, but how the hell am I supposed to know whether it’s Sally or Sam? It’s not like I got any psychic powers when I died.’ George scowled, climbing the stone stairs in front of the church slowly so she could rub off some of the dog shit residue. She wasn’t religious, but nobody likes the scent of excrement.
She hoped.
The church wasn’t very fancy on the outside, just your typical church made of gray rock; but the inside had more texture. The carpet was worn by hundreds of people’s shoes over the years, but the walls were covered in stained wooden paneling, and the benches actually looked new. Somewhat. The stained glass windows were pretty, but she’d seen nicer at another church (though she had spent most of the sermon sleeping). The altar was the most interesting for George, mainly because there were a few shiny goblets and a whole table of unlit candles nearby. Well, the shiny things and the exit sign to its left.
Ducking into one of the alcoves in case someone was actually in the church and mistook her for a Catholic, she tried to figure out how this S. Wireman fellow was going to die. The three giant fans over the pews seemed to a fair bet, but there were plenty of things that could happen.
“Hope S. Wireman’s car broke down or something.” She muttered, glancing at her watch.
“That’s not a very charitable thought.” A man’s kind voice chided, sounding mildly amused. “Are my sermon’s that boring?”
The reaper turned around so quickly she almost hit him with her umbrella. “Jesus Christ, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
The priest gave her a sheepish smile and extended his hand. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to sneak. Would you like me to put that in the umbrella stand for you?”
“Erm, sure.” She handed it over, slightly embarrassed.
“I’m Father Steven,” the middle-aged man continued, setting the umbrella inside an old wooden stand that smelled a bit like mold.
“George.” She held out her hand, taking his soul just before he let go.
As she talked to the priest, she saw a graveling slink across the floor in front of them and up the wall, using the large beams supporting the roof to jump onto the first fan. They were about to walk into the church’s main chamber when the door burst open. A desperate-looking man with torn clothing ran into the church, heading straight for them. The priest shielded her with his body instinctively, and started to beg the man to calm down. Not seeming to hear, the man lifted the priest up by his collar and continued to run, pushing George out of his way. “Betchoo won’t shoot a priest!” He yelled, holding the priest out in front of him as if he were no heavier than a doll.
His pursuer was another man wielding a gun whose eyes only narrowed when he spotted the hostage. He spared the reaper a quick glance and followed his prey, gun ready to fire. “Let him go. This is between us.”
“Like I’m goin’ ta give ya a free shot! I ain’t goin’ back there man!” He backed away as the other advanced, out of the shadow of the first fan where the graveling was still watching.
“Of course you are. Either now when you hurt the priest, or later when I hunt you down again. You really shouldn’t add killing a priest to your list of sins, it would only give It more power.”
“Damn ya!” The man yelled, tossing the priest towards his pursuer before running towards the exit faster than any human had the right to move. At the same time, the graveling slashed at the chain supporting the fan and jumped back to the support beam to watch. The massive piece of metal and plastic fell on the priest’s midsection as he hit the ground, killing him instantly. The hunted man turned around at the noise, the door’s handle in hand. “That doesn’t count!”
The sandy-haired man fired twice, and blue-white light burst from his prey’s eyes, encasing him in blue mist as he fell through the floor with a scream. The floor was perfectly intact not even a second later.
“Where the hell was his post-it? Because that is seriously fucked up.” George announced, walking over to her confused reap. Her eyes were on the shooter though. “Who the hell are you?”
“Detective Ezekiel Stone,” he flashed his badge so fast that George couldn’t read a word on it. “And post-it?” He added, a polite expression on his face. This reaction was new.
“I’m dead.” The priest said numbly, looking at his crushed corpse.
“Get over it, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Who are you talking to?”
‘So he’s not a reaper.’ George mused, noticing a few more gravelings had joined their buddy on the fan out of the corner of her eye. ‘Odd.’ She frowned, forcing her mind back to the man in front of her. “What are you?”
Zeke blinked. “Human of course.”
“Then what was he?” She crossed her arms. “Human don’t do that when they get shot. Bits and pieces fly off and blood gets over everything. They don’t fall through a perfectly ordinary floor.”
“That, child, was a damned soul.” A man drawled from behind her. She caught a whiff of sulphur as he walked past her and the priest (who suddenly sank to his knees in horror). The cop grimaced as he spotted the face in the shadows of a wide-brimmed hat. The newcomer smirked and slapped him on the back amiably, making the cop take a step forward. “Mr. Stone, you found yourself an interesting young dead girl, you cad.”
“Huh? She’s-”
“No, you got lucky.”
“Who are you?” George asked suspiciously. She had never met somebody who immediately knew she was dead. To her surprise, the five gravelings on the ceiling fan jumped down, and knelt at his sides, hissing at her, the cop, and the blubbering priest’s soul. “The graveling king?”
He winked at her; aware that she could see the cloud of dark mist creeping around him that ensnared the rotten souls she called gravelings and the good-looking cop, who could not. Zeke was giving him a foul look though. The weight of being in a church was a heavy burden to bear, but this was an opportunity that did not come along very often. “Curious as ever George.”
“How’d you know my name?”
“You destroyed one of mine.” He gestured towards the gravelings, who hissed at the cue before huddling where they stood once again. “A newcomer who was created by your friends.” He added, taking a step towards George. Pitch-black eyes seemed to paralyze her, his words snaking around her mind like a dense fog that inhibited thought. “You reapers have powers that interest me. For instance, sending a soul on its way with a mere touch, to heaven or hell.” His smirk widened at the cop’s sudden look of horror. “If she had touched you, she would have sent you back to my loving embrace forever, Mr. Stone. What would your beloved widow say to that, hmm?”
“Widow?” She echoed numbly, looking at the cop who seemed to freeze. The soul at her side was making signs against evil, praying desperately for their salvation. The creature was only a couple feet away now.
“Shut up.” The graveling’s king said pleasantly, and the soul’s words were suddenly muted. “Why don’t you take my hand and I’ll show you how to use your power to the fullest, so you can protect your family.”
To her horror, she felt herself nod and reach out to him to seal the bargain.
“George!” The doors of the church crashed open once again and Rube strode in, reminding her of a sodden bear about to attack. She had never felt so glad to see him. “Get away from it!” He added, and that allowed her to back away, grabbing her reap’s wrist as she backed away. The fury in those black eyes made her break into a run. Rube met her at the first pew, pulling her against him reassuringly. “C’mon peanut.”
“What the hell is he Rube?”
“Not the time George. I had to kick gravelings out of my way the whole way here and the longer we stay here, the less chance we have of leaving.”
“Who said anything about leaving, Rube Sofer?” The creature sneered. “You’re almost as good a catch as she is, and I already have jurisdiction over your soul.”
“Not yet you don’t.” He answered without looking back.
“How about we make a deal?”
“No.”
“But I haven’t heard from you for the better part of a century. Is this any way to treat an old friend?”
“C’MON peanut.” He staggered once, but kept on pulling her out of the church. “We have to get out of here or they won’t be able to cleanse it.”
“Who?”
“Upper management.” He answered as they crossed the threshold.
Gravelings swarmed around the courtyard, grabbing at the priest’s robes and hissing and spitting at the reapers. However, Rube seemed to regain some of his strength as they left the church and an animalistic cry of rage echoed from the church. Instantly, the gravelings (and the pressure around them) disappeared.
It was only when they were in the relative safety of Der Waffle Haus that she persuaded Steven Wireman that it was time to move on. Relieved of that responsibility, she let Rube order two slices of strawberry cheesecake and sat down. “What was that Rube? The gravelings were all docile and everything.”
“You would be too if you were under its jurisdiction.”
“So he is the graveling king. Who was the other one though? He didn’t seem so bad.”
“Don’t repeat this to anyone, peanut, but there was a breach of security years ago. To control the damage, lower management decided to use one of Its souls to recollect those who escaped.”
“Lower management…” She prodded.
“Lucifer Morningstar.”
George dropped her fork. “He really exists!? I thought it was a demon or something but the Devil is way beyond that.”
“Never go near It again George. Never. If It didn’t have a grudge against you before, It does now. If It ever gets a hold of you, it will increase you soul count until infinity, and even then It’ll drag you down.”
“Rube?” She asked, eyes wide in horror.
“You’re still fine. Upper management is good at keeping Its powers restricted. The only way It can get you is if you willingly touch It, or if you make any type of deal.”
“Not happening.”
“Good.”
“How’d he get in the church though? I mean, you know…” She made a cross with her fingers.
“I’m guessing It used the cop as an anchor.” Rube shrugged, and would not answer any more of her questions.
^^^
The next day, George spotted the cop at Der Waffle Haus. After making sure Rube was not in the vicinity, she slid into the booth in front of him. “Your boss is sneaky.”
“You have no idea.” The cop finished one waffle and set his fork down beside the five unfinished ones. George knew she would never be able to finish such a pile, but the cop didn’t seem intimidated. “Could you really send me back?” He asked, piling more maple syrup on his waffles.
“Probably, but only if I tried and I’m not going to do that. And if I see any more of those creatures, I’ll save you some bullets.”
“How about you give me a call instead?” He grabbed a napkin and she handed him a pen she had ‘borrowed’ from Happy Time. “Thank you. If I’m not the one who does the work, he’ll wiggle out of his side of the deal and then I’d really be screwed.”
“What is your deal exactly?”
“I return the hundred and thirteen souls that got away from him, and he gives me back my life.”
“Can he do that?” She asked, shaking her head at Kiffany when she looked their way.
“I’m not sure, but I’ve me some of his relatives that seem willing to keep his promise for him if I do the work.”
“Relatives.” She said blandly. “Like angels?”
“I think so. To me they look like him, but they actually act nice.”
“So Heaven and all that stuff’s real?”
“I don’t know about Heaven, but Hell sure is. I spent fifteen years there. Anyway, what are you?”
“A reaper. I collect souls and send them on their way.”
“Then the priest…”
“Yeah.”
“And he actually talked to you?”
“Well, he was more concerned with the fact that your boss was strolling around his church.”
“It gave him a rash.”
“Really?”
“No, but he’s acting like someone shoved a hot rod up his ass so I assume there’s a reason he doesn’t do it often.”
“Sorry.”
Zeke just grinned. “I’ve had him angrier at me before. At the moment, he’s bitching more about the ones Up There.”
“Oh?”
“I shot him in the eyes once.”
“He must have taken that well.” George remarked, thinking ‘he’s very good-looking for a hell cop.’
“I think the sight of one of his relatives prevented him from really skewering me.”
“This is so weird.”
“That’s one word for it.” Zeke agreed.