The Streets of Fandom, Thursday Evening

[onapalebicycle]

George had held it together when she had gotten a letter from her long-lost little sib, Jim. She had cried when Mason asked her who Daisy was, and she didn't even like Daisy. Okay, maybe she did. Sometimes. She didn't wish her dead or anything. So what. Shut up. And the school was thinning out, but the end of the world kept trying to happen here

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[not_the_irs]

"This body dislikes the ambient temperature."

The Auditors were very good at casual conversation among themselves.

[onapalebicycle]

Okay, that was a bizarre thing to overhear. Probably a good sign. Or a bad one. Whatever.

Also, the fact that she suddenly had the heebie-jeebies.

"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked, trying to make her way over as if she was just ... you know, curious. Like someone who liked talking to people. So ... this might be hard.

[not_the_irs]

All three individuals turned to investigate this new human. They crawled all over the island, investing the world with their disorganized... humanity.

"We have recently arrived here," one confirmed with and almost thoughtful expression. Mostly blank, though.

[onapalebicycle]

"Then, welcome," George said. "You look like you could use a friend."

Trying for some measure of easy confidence, and failing. But at least she was walking over, carefully and slowly, and maybe she didn't seem like a threat.

Reapers didn't get super powers. Reapers could only do one thing: reap. And so the relevant question was whether or not these fuckers had souls.

[not_the_irs]

"Define 'friend,'" one replied.

The other two very slowly nodded

[onapalebicycle]

"Someone who could offer help," George said. Maybe they could sense that she wasn't ... alive, somehow. That had to be a point in her favor. "An assistant."

Someone who just needed to get a step or two closer.

"Whatever might be useful."

[not_the_irs]

They could always use assistance in the form of her ceasing to be.

"We are concerned," one announced abruptly. "Alarmed. Perturbed. You must follow the rules."

Though George was distinctly lacking in visible bone and scythe for this to be proper...

[onapalebicycle]

"What rules do you want me to follow?" George asked. "Just tell me. I'll do what I can."

George was a huge fan of rules. Really. But that didn't matter, because she was close enough now to try.

She reached out a hand, hoping to touch the nearest one's sleeve. All she had to do was concentrate. She had done this hundreds of times before. The soul was easy enough to pull; you just needed to know how to reach, and contact to make it happen. Fabric was good enough.

Maybe she could look like she was admiring that shirt. Whatever fucking worked.

[not_the_irs]

It was suitable to fit in with the humans on the island. In a very stylish shade of grey.

The Auditor looked down at her hand, frowning slightly but making no attempt to stop it from happening. What could she possibly think she was doing after all?

"Sparking and fizzling," she said out loud. As one does.

[onapalebicycle]

George's hand closed around the fabric, and she pulled. Her hand slid down the arm, but it was her mind that was reaching out, trying to locate a soul and rip it clean from this shell.

If these fuckers got her after she had Reaped one of them, then at least they'd be down one. Better her than someone alive. Please let this work.

[not_the_irs]

Well, it certainly worked for someone involved.

Not that the Auditor really cared all that much about the human, here or not, though she felt a thrill of satisfaction about a tidying well-done when the girl blinked out of existence.

Talk about taking the credit.