Somewhere in the depths of the infinite void that makes up The Blue Channel, a lone reaper stares at the black walls surrounding its personal domain.
Lately, Raithe had been feeling inconsequential to the turning of the metaphorical "wheel in the sky." How unbecoming for someone of their status.
The reaper sighs. It was only the natural thing to feel. Ever since they had moved to this new home, they had been butting heads with other godlike beings. From Kalag to Kushim, you could say that the good ol' pantheon of potheads in this place wasn't too thrilled with another loose cannon joining the ranks of harbingers of death. Some bastard named Azrael even stole their name, too. All the drama left a lot to be desired, so Raithe did what they do best: get butthurt at their ego being challenged, and leave to sulk for eternity. Perhaps they'd even plot the downfall of their enemies while they're at it.
Raithe stands up from the disorganized pile of blackened skulls they call a "throne," and grabs a few items off of one of the many cluttered shelves in their home. They had made the executive decision to return to Level 11 and continue their charade of trolling around with a few foolish mortals. It had been ages since they had continued their adventure with Mik, Keithe, and company. At least, that's how it felt. Their personal dimension was timeless, so they often would return when they could no longer keep up their masquerade. But lately, Raithe had been bored and angsty, and whether they would admit it or not, being with Mik always seemed to calm them down.
Having finished collecting a few… "goodies" for the road, black swathes of abandoned souls swirl around them, changing their appearance back into that of the white-haired 7 year old they had been spending more and more time as. This unassuming frame was sure to bring… at least comedic value when they eventually revealed their hand.
Finally prepared, Raithe demanifests themself, transporting their likeness back to where they left off with Mik in Level 11, on their way to visit Blanche.
Or so they thought.
Raithe practically crash-lands on the sidewalk of Level 11, on an unfamiliar street to boot. Once again immortality proves its usefulness, because that fall would have scraped off at least half of their face. How embarrassing.
Above them, someone groans in exasperation, "Why the fuck do I always get the weird ones?"
Preparing to decimate this mortal for their insolence, Raithe tries to stand up, but falls flat on their face again.
The voice speaks again.
"Oh that won't do."
Raithe finds themself standing upright, facing a young wanderer barely a foot taller than them. Rather short for someone who appears to be in their early twenties or late teens…
"Mind telling me who the hell you are? I don't really have the time to guess right now. I'm in the middle of something." The wanderer asks.
Raithe smirks internally. This is going to be so easy…
"I— I'm Raithe… I— I'm lost… and scared…"
The wanderer blinks, unimpressed.
"Bullshit. Buuut if we're giving fake names, I suppose I'll follow suit. My name's Spec, and I'm losing my patience."
Spec's eyes flash a bright red color, as if someone turned on a flashlight behind them. "Just as I thought. You're not human."
Used to being harassed in this form for their unique appearance, Raithe decides to play into this more, just to give themself a reason to smite this bastard.
"Why— why are you being so mean…"
"Mean? First of all, that fall would have scraped even your bones away. Second of all, the whiplash I gave you from noclipping you to your feet would have knocked out any normal human. Third, I can literally see— you slipped inside that frail excuse for a disguise."
For a moment, space flickers around Spec as if streams of reality itself were encircling him.
"So I'll ask again, who are you? I don't recognize your soul…"
Raithe sighs, unamused by Spec's attempt at intimidation, and their posture changes.
"My god… this guy is a fucking NERD."
"Figures I'd find the one dick in this place that this disguise wouldn't work on… fine. You know me as Azrael, angel of death. Ring any bells?"
Spec just stares at them blankly, and Raithe speaks up again.
"Really? How stupid are you? Open a book, dumbass."
Spec sighs.
"Its not that, its just… Azrael's soul is different from yours. Plus, they only have one possible vessel at a time. I figured that out a while ago—"
Raithe groans.
"ENOUGH ABOUT THAT POSEUR ALREADY! I'M TIRED OF HEARING ABOUT IT FROM EVERYONE! AT LEAST I DO MY FUCKING JOB!"
Spec tilts his head to the side, giving an expression of complete confusion.
"I— I really have no idea how to respond to that."
In the distance, a shout from a familiar voice reverberates from the end of the block.
"RAITHE? IS THAT YOU?"
Recognizing the voice as their friend Mik, Raithe immediately changes their posture back to that of a scared child. They look up at Spec as they curl into a ball.
"You seem understanding enough, weird human. Just don't fuck this up for me."
For about the third time in the past four minutes, Spec gives the reaper an incredulous look.
"Fine. I'll leave you to your business…"
He slips into a nearby alleyway, and disappears.
As Raithe watches Spec vanish, their eyes grow a bit heavier. They had almost forgotten how weak this body was.
"Thank fuck… I had a good thing going here, and it was almost blown."
They continue huddling on the concrete as the familiar faces of Mik, Keithe, and Jasper close in.
"We got worried about you— you must have been hit by a random noclip. Dangerous son of a gun, those things are… you just disappeared from right under our nose!"
Mik says, scooping Raithe up like a baby.
Raithe buries their face into his chest, savoring the feeling of warmth.
"Why is this so addicting…"
They speak up, looking up a Mik with big wide eyes.
"It was really scary… and I met this odd kid when I came out…"
Mik nods understandingly.
"Yeah, there's all kinds of oddballs in this place. But you're safe now, and that's what matters. Come on, we've got to get to Blanche."
"O… okay."
Raithe responds.
"Yeah, I'm dying for some more tea. Its been fucking ages—"
Jasper interrupts.
Keithe throws his hands up in the air.
"That's what I'm saying! Any drinks besides that damn almond goop are practically diamonds in this place!"
Mik squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.
"Can we… not… swear… in front of the child…"
Jasper rolls his eyes.
"Please. That thing's gotta grow up eventually."
Keithe punches Jasper in the shoulder, signaling him to knock it off.
"OKAY OKAY FINE! Let's just get to Blanche."
Jasper grumbles.
From there, the quartet of Raithe, Mik, Keithe, and Jasper continued down through Level 11, bickering all the way until they came up to the front of an abandoned bookstore.
"This looks promising…"
Mik speaks up as the group traverses the threshold into the small shop.
Unfortunately, this trip would be anything but promising. As soon as the four friends enter the shop, reality twists itself in a pretzel, force-clipping the group into somewhere they certainly do not want to be… especially with a child.
The smell of boiling tar immediately pierces the nostrils of the group. They've landed on a rickety wooden dock over the massive lake that makes up a majority of the level.
Raithe immediately perks up in attention, and scans their surroundings.
"Damn, so much for an easy time…"
"Where the hell are we?"
Jasper exclaims.
Keithe slips off his backpack, removing his camera.
"No clue. Would make for good photography though…"
Mik makes sure they have a good grasp on Raithe, and slowly backs off of the bridge onto one of the burning sand islands. He perches up on a rock as to not burn away his shoes on the 200 degree sand.
"Wherever we are, this place is dangerous. We need to find a way out, and fast."
"No arguments here."
Jasper replies, hopping across to safety on a few wooden poles sticking out of the tar lake.
"Come on Keithe."
Keithe however, doesn't budge. He's busy fiddling with his camera.
"Come on Keithe, it's not worth it. You can always take some more edgy photos in One if you really want to."
Jasper shoots back at him.
Keithe however, remains unmoved on the edge of the pier. He stays silent for a moment before speaking up.
"I just can't pass up on this scenery… its so desolate."
Keithe brings up his camera to take a quick photo, but it slips out of his grasp. Almost on instinct he reaches forward to grab it…
And momentarily forgets that he was standing on the edge of a pier.
Raithe immediately feels a surge of energy and power, comparable to what humans would call "being in the zone." They knew it meant only one thing:
Someone was about to die.
But Raithe was far from the only being in the area that could sense this type of thing…
Raithe looks up from Mik's arms with their newfound vigor. Their attention is immediately drawn to Keithe. Or more accurately, the pale young man floating above him with a scythe around his neck.
Raithe looks closer, slipping out of Mik's immobile arms.
"Long scarf… blue slippers, and skirt… SHIT! THAT BASTARD—"
Raithe screams at the other agent of death, seconds before the claim the life of Keithe.
"YOU UNORIGINAL DICK! FIRST YOU TAKE MY NAME, AND THEN YOU TRY TO TAKE MY JOB TOO?"
Azrael looks up at Raithe.
"Oh give me a break. You again?"
Raithe drops their disguise, and appears in front of Azrael.
"I ought to disintegrate you for this!"
Azrael's scythe seems to melt away into the air, and they cross their arms.
"You better fucking not. My boss cut my health benefits last week. I WAS EXCPECTING A FUCKING BONUS, AND THIS DICKWEASEL OF A SHITTER SENDS ME STRAIGHT INTO THE FIRE AFTER STRIPPING MY MEDICAL BENEFITS! I HATE BEING IN THE FIELD! RECORDS ARE SO MUCH MORE EASY THAN THIS SHIT!"
Raithe is taken aback. Of all the things they expected the infamous Azrael to be, an overworked and abused librarian was probably last on the list. They could almost relate, in a cosmic sort of way. It definitely was making them rethink their preconceived notions…
Raithe speaks up.
"Being a reaper ain't all its cracked up to be, huh?"
Azrael scoffs.
"You can say that again. I JUST GOT OUT OF THAT SMELLY BONY FUCKER, AND NOW MY NEW HOST LOOKS LIKE A GOD DAMN HOT TOPIC EBOY TWINK."
Raithe cocks their head to the side.
"Bony fucker?"
Azrael groans.
"Don't even get me started. Where do you think the whole "skeltal grim reaper" persona came from? My hosts still age, and so do their bodies. I was stuck in this poor bastard for centuries, until he crumbled to dust. SO YOU CAN IMAGINE HOW EXCITED I WAS WHEN THE BOSS TOLD ME THEY HAD A NEW HOST LINED UP. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH CREEPY SHIT PEOPLE SEND TO MY OFFICE EMAIL?"
Raithe smirks.
"You guys have an office email system now?"
Azrael smacks his head into his hands and groans loudly.
"I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO BLOCK PEOPLE! I CAN BARELY TURN ON THOSE COMPUTER THINGS!"
Raithe almost snickers. This guy is so inept it was almost funny. They warp themself behind him and scoop him up bridal-style.
"HEY! PUT ME DOWN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DEGRADING IT IS BEING SCOOPED UP LIKE A GODDAMN CAT-"
Azrael shrieks in a shrill tone.
"Put you down? Ok…"
Raithe throws Azrael into the tar pit of level 41.
Azrael's skin starts to turn bright red from the heat, but it doesn't seem to be physically putting them in any pain. They manage to stand up in the shallow tar near the shore, staring daggers at Raithe, but ultimately too fed up to actually do anything.
"Do you have any idea how long its going to take to get this shit out of my clothes?"
Azrael says in a sad defeated tone.
"Long enough for me to stop you from taking Keithe's soul."
Raithe responds with a small grin.
Azrael rolls their eyes.
"Well played this time, I suppose."
Azrael forces his way out of the adhesive substance, but not before the lake rips off a slipper, his scarf, and half of the boiled, loose skin on his legs.
"Hey Raithe?"
Azrael speaks up.
"Hm?"
Raithe retorts simply, having thoroughly enjoyed watching this idiot flounder his way out of the deadly lake.
"You owe me a new scarf."
Azrael says with a sneer before slicing a rift into the air with his hand, and walking through it, leaving Raithe alone.
"That's certainly a new one…"
Raithe says to no one in particular.
"You don't say."
A familiar voice says behind Raithe on the dock.
Raithe, horrified, spins around on their heel to see none other than Keithe standing with his phone in hand. Recording.
"H— How the fuck are you mov-"
Raithe begins to speak, and then they realize. Reapers briefly create a localized pocket dimension when they claim a soul, and they bring the soul with them. Raithe comes to the realization that this means Keithe has seen the entire embarrassing exchange, and more importantly, seen Raithe for what they are.
"So Raithe, why are you sandbagging us? Think us easy targets?"
Keithe asks, half joking.
Raithe, for once in their eternal existence, has no plan of action. This is about as terrible as this could have gone.
Raithe throws their head back and groans with exasperation.
"Ughhhhh— please don't tell the others… I was so fucking tired of my day job and I needed a break—"
Keithe snickers.
"Hey, I don't shame people for what they wanna do in their free time. You've been nothing but good to us, I suppose. But the fellas are going to get a kick out of this—"
Raithe's eyes widen.
"What is this emotion I'm feeling… I'm not even supposed to be able to feel those! Is this… embarrasment?"
"NO! You can't do that—"
Raithe stammers. Their cool facade crumbling as the conversation continues.
"I'll tell you what. I'll make you a deal."
Keithe grins.
"I'll delete this video— I'll even ask Blanche to wipe my memory once we arrive at 906. But on one condition."
Raithe glares up at him, but can't help from giving a small smile.
"And what's that?"
"I want you to keep staying around. Hang out with us. Be our own… guardian reaper. If you can save me, you can save others. Plus, it gives you an excuse to 'vacation' with us. I heard what you said to that other reaper— so be honest, it's a win-win."
Raithe groans, but can't help but chuckle.
"All right you cocky dick, I'll bite. I accept."
Keithe smiles, moving his thumb over the "delete" button on his phone, sending the video back into cyberspace.
"Well you know what they say about us photographers, Raithe… I think you just made it true in my case."
Raithe tilts their head to the side.
"No. What do they say?"
Keithe chuckles
"The cameraman never dies."