Story I: The Scythe's Social Outing
Bob sat alone on the couch watching reruns of a show that was either a reality show about a young woman celebrating her 21st birthday or a documentary about violent shark attacks when he heard a distant whistle. He got up and looked out the window of his 25th story condo and saw nothing in the dark Atlanta night.
Turning back to the TV he noticed that one of the people at the girl's party had been eaten by a shark, thus confusing him more. He was about to unleash a hate filled diatribe at the TV for the confusion when the plate glass patio door exploded violently into large shards of glass all around him and the room. Bob turned to see his roommate, the vile and often angry anti-hero known simply as The Sycthe, rising from a kneeling position where he'd just landed.
"FOR FVCK'S SAKE, Scythe!" Bob yelled "When, when for the love of all things good and right will you start using the front door? Seriously, do you have to come crashing in through the patio door EVERY time?"
"Yes, I do. The Scythe does not lower himself to such base common frivolities as a 'door' or 'courtesy.' Now if you'll excuse me, I have to wash the blood out of my cape."
He hung his Scythe on the scythe hook by the front door, next to the umbrella stand. Bob found himself more than a little afraid of his roommate on multiple occasions. The Scythe worked with local law enforcement with under-the-table contracts and was paid far better than he should be (a condition Bob was sure was based on fear). Although almost inhumanely violent in his methods, The Scythe was noble and never harmed anyone that hadn't committed a crime. The man (at least, that's what Bob assumed he was) wore a Grim Reaper's mask which he never removed, along with an all black cape and cowl that hid his frame. Oftentimes, at night, the only thing that gave away the Scythe's presence in the room was his glowing red eyes.
As near as Bob could tell, The Scythe had no secret identity. He WAS The Scythe. Oh sure on occasion one could get away with calling him just "Scy," but doing so without permission oftentimes resulted in a solid punch in the neck.
The Scythe floated into the room on a cloud of the souls of the punished. He settled down on the chair opposite Bob and thumbed through an issue of US Weekly.
"Hey, Bob, are we still on for going to the bar tonight?"
"What? No, no of course not. We got banned, remember?"
"No, I don't."
"Last time we were there. That one random guy left without paying, and you went outside, grabbed him by the face, and threw him through a wall. TWICE."
"Oh..oh yeah. He had it coming. Well, hell what're we doing tonight then?"
"Well, I am going to dinner with some college friends. You should hang out with some of your buddies too."
"I don't have any friends."
"Yes you do, what about the other guys in the Extraordinaires?"
The Extraordinaires was a local team of costumed miscreants that came together on occasion when great need arose. The Scythe hated all of them and felt they were too soft since they had a tendency to disagree with his methods of crime-fighting which involved maiming and robbing criminals.
"Those guys are punk b1tches and I hate them all."
"Well, I thought you'd say that, so I called them some of them and invited them over to watch movies with you tonight and reminisce a bit. It's been so long since you've spent time with around them."
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. The Scythe raised his hand to summon his weapon, which glided with a haunting glow to him. Then, he threw the Scythe at the door with every ounce of strength he could call upon, thus causing the door to explode into millions of wooden pieces.
"For FVCK'S SAKE, Scy!" Bob bellowed.
At the smoldering door frame stood just a couple members of the Extraordinaires: Captain Freedom and The Ace. Captain Freedom wore a gaudy outfit that was so vibrant it almost seemed to glow in the dark. He had no real powers, other than annoying the hell out of The Scythe and speaking far too much about topics no one really cared about. The Ace, on the other hand, was a demure woman who could throw any object as far and fast as a standard playing card, regardless of that object's weight or size. She now lay on the ground attempting to remove shards of wood from her throat. The Scythe hated them both.
"Ace, Freedom, good to see you guys again. Scy's been going on and on about how much he's looked forward to seeing you guys. I'm going to take my leave now, you kids have fun!"
Both The Ace and Captain Freedom were terrified of The Scythe. They'd been protecting the city for 10 years when he showed up during one of the many brimstone showers Atlanta has in July. Initially, they'd assumed he was evil incarnate, but those fears were assuaged when The Scythe single handily defeated El Patron, the drunkest and most nefarious villain ever to cross paths with the Extraordinaires. The Scythe beat El Patron by drowning him in cow lard, no one bothered asking him where he got the lard from for fear that he'd tell them.
The three of them sat down on the couch, all very uncomfortable and looking for any excuse to leave.
"Hey, hey guys," Captain Freedom spoke up "do you remember that time when we faced off against Sergeant Death! Those were great old times. Whatever happened to him?"
"The Scythe caught him stealing money from an ATM, so he ran Sergeant Death over with a Hummer." Ace said.
"Oh...right...very messy that. So, Scythe, you ever catch that guy that was robbing bakeries downtown?"
"Yes, I did?"
"Oh? What'd you do?"
"I dropped him on his head from the top of an 80-story building. After that, he was still sorta moving, so I baked him into a cake which I then frosted and served to a group of rabid wolves."
The Ace puked.
"You're a fvcking psychopath! What about you, Ace, you were tracking that crooked DEA guy that was selling drugs to people, right?"
"Well, I was. But then Scy here found the guy and ripped his legs off. Then, he used a gigantic mortar and pestle and beat the guy into powder and let a bunch of crack whores snort him."
Captain Freedom puked.
At that point, Bob walked back in to reclaim his wallet, which he had seemingly accidentally misplaced in a locked safe in The Scythe's bedroom.
"Well, guys, Bob's back, and I hate to rush you off but..oh wait..no I don't..get the fvck out." The Scythe eviled before shoveling the two ashen figures out into the hallway.
*end story one*
Yeah it doesn't really have an ending, but it's 3AM! That's my excuse.
Turning back to the TV he noticed that one of the people at the girl's party had been eaten by a shark, thus confusing him more. He was about to unleash a hate filled diatribe at the TV for the confusion when the plate glass patio door exploded violently into large shards of glass all around him and the room. Bob turned to see his roommate, the vile and often angry anti-hero known simply as The Sycthe, rising from a kneeling position where he'd just landed.
"FOR FVCK'S SAKE, Scythe!" Bob yelled "When, when for the love of all things good and right will you start using the front door? Seriously, do you have to come crashing in through the patio door EVERY time?"
"Yes, I do. The Scythe does not lower himself to such base common frivolities as a 'door' or 'courtesy.' Now if you'll excuse me, I have to wash the blood out of my cape."
He hung his Scythe on the scythe hook by the front door, next to the umbrella stand. Bob found himself more than a little afraid of his roommate on multiple occasions. The Scythe worked with local law enforcement with under-the-table contracts and was paid far better than he should be (a condition Bob was sure was based on fear). Although almost inhumanely violent in his methods, The Scythe was noble and never harmed anyone that hadn't committed a crime. The man (at least, that's what Bob assumed he was) wore a Grim Reaper's mask which he never removed, along with an all black cape and cowl that hid his frame. Oftentimes, at night, the only thing that gave away the Scythe's presence in the room was his glowing red eyes.
As near as Bob could tell, The Scythe had no secret identity. He WAS The Scythe. Oh sure on occasion one could get away with calling him just "Scy," but doing so without permission oftentimes resulted in a solid punch in the neck.
The Scythe floated into the room on a cloud of the souls of the punished. He settled down on the chair opposite Bob and thumbed through an issue of US Weekly.
"Hey, Bob, are we still on for going to the bar tonight?"
"What? No, no of course not. We got banned, remember?"
"No, I don't."
"Last time we were there. That one random guy left without paying, and you went outside, grabbed him by the face, and threw him through a wall. TWICE."
"Oh..oh yeah. He had it coming. Well, hell what're we doing tonight then?"
"Well, I am going to dinner with some college friends. You should hang out with some of your buddies too."
"I don't have any friends."
"Yes you do, what about the other guys in the Extraordinaires?"
The Extraordinaires was a local team of costumed miscreants that came together on occasion when great need arose. The Scythe hated all of them and felt they were too soft since they had a tendency to disagree with his methods of crime-fighting which involved maiming and robbing criminals.
"Those guys are punk b1tches and I hate them all."
"Well, I thought you'd say that, so I called them some of them and invited them over to watch movies with you tonight and reminisce a bit. It's been so long since you've spent time with around them."
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. The Scythe raised his hand to summon his weapon, which glided with a haunting glow to him. Then, he threw the Scythe at the door with every ounce of strength he could call upon, thus causing the door to explode into millions of wooden pieces.
"For FVCK'S SAKE, Scy!" Bob bellowed.
At the smoldering door frame stood just a couple members of the Extraordinaires: Captain Freedom and The Ace. Captain Freedom wore a gaudy outfit that was so vibrant it almost seemed to glow in the dark. He had no real powers, other than annoying the hell out of The Scythe and speaking far too much about topics no one really cared about. The Ace, on the other hand, was a demure woman who could throw any object as far and fast as a standard playing card, regardless of that object's weight or size. She now lay on the ground attempting to remove shards of wood from her throat. The Scythe hated them both.
"Ace, Freedom, good to see you guys again. Scy's been going on and on about how much he's looked forward to seeing you guys. I'm going to take my leave now, you kids have fun!"
Both The Ace and Captain Freedom were terrified of The Scythe. They'd been protecting the city for 10 years when he showed up during one of the many brimstone showers Atlanta has in July. Initially, they'd assumed he was evil incarnate, but those fears were assuaged when The Scythe single handily defeated El Patron, the drunkest and most nefarious villain ever to cross paths with the Extraordinaires. The Scythe beat El Patron by drowning him in cow lard, no one bothered asking him where he got the lard from for fear that he'd tell them.
The three of them sat down on the couch, all very uncomfortable and looking for any excuse to leave.
"Hey, hey guys," Captain Freedom spoke up "do you remember that time when we faced off against Sergeant Death! Those were great old times. Whatever happened to him?"
"The Scythe caught him stealing money from an ATM, so he ran Sergeant Death over with a Hummer." Ace said.
"Oh...right...very messy that. So, Scythe, you ever catch that guy that was robbing bakeries downtown?"
"Yes, I did?"
"Oh? What'd you do?"
"I dropped him on his head from the top of an 80-story building. After that, he was still sorta moving, so I baked him into a cake which I then frosted and served to a group of rabid wolves."
The Ace puked.
"You're a fvcking psychopath! What about you, Ace, you were tracking that crooked DEA guy that was selling drugs to people, right?"
"Well, I was. But then Scy here found the guy and ripped his legs off. Then, he used a gigantic mortar and pestle and beat the guy into powder and let a bunch of crack whores snort him."
Captain Freedom puked.
At that point, Bob walked back in to reclaim his wallet, which he had seemingly accidentally misplaced in a locked safe in The Scythe's bedroom.
"Well, guys, Bob's back, and I hate to rush you off but..oh wait..no I don't..get the fvck out." The Scythe eviled before shoveling the two ashen figures out into the hallway.
*end story one*
Yeah it doesn't really have an ending, but it's 3AM! That's my excuse.