Left 4 Ramen

“You know Calli, I really think you should try a singing stream or two. I’d hate to see your talent go to waste.” Since a focalized topic isn’t necessary while the three of you drive to the approximate location of Calli’s mark, Watson decides to bring up the reaper’s side hustle.

“Ah, shit… you know about that? Guh… this is embarrassing- uh… man, I… humm…” As the designated driver filling in for the usual driver, since this outing isn’t planned, you can’t afford to take your eyes off the road. Still, the blush staining Calli’s cheeks in pink transcends the light spectrum to announce itself through her inexact response.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be shy about! I actually really like your content, it’s always fun to watch you play vidya.”

What’s a ‘Vidya’? You don’t voice your confusion though. This is definitely another ‘hip’ thing.

“Thanks, Watson- Miss Watson… I didn’t really think I’d have an audience when I first started, it’s just a thing someone recommended I try for fun. I’m happy you enjoy it tho, keep me on the grind.”

“Just Watson is fine! And yeah, you’re almost at fifty K! Congrats on making it this far. Too bad I can’t sub twice, trust me I pressed that red button many times.”

“Heh… have you tried one of your alt-accounts?” What’s this? An actually funny joke from Calli? Physically impossible.

“Ahahaha~! Gaming the system!”

The atmosphere is breezy, the tone of the two girls in the backseat is friendly. You’re uninformed on how much these two interacted through Discord prior to their first in-person meeting, you’re just glad this Calli right now is nailing the socializing aspect of humanity. Credits also go to the blonde’s natural charisma, brightening the compacted space within the sedan.

“I do wanna ask though. I know you only recently started working as a reaper, but you’ve been on the internet for a year now. Is there a story behind that?”

“Yes, that is indeed a thing that happened. To become a big boy reaper and actually go out there, we have to have a fundamental understanding of humankind. So I just thought I’d come up to the surface world and hang until I’m ready.”

“Do lots of you guys come to the surface? I’ve never heard anything about a reaper in real life.” Quicker than Calli can notice, Watson fleetingly glances up at the rear-view mirror to get your input. You shake your head snappily, which shouldn’t be taken lightly if someone like you claims to have never met an Underworld dweller.

“Nah, not really. I’m like a fucking freak back home, almost no reapers are even slightly interested in human society. Ya boy’s got no clue why she’s built like this. Maybe only the oddballs want to come up for soul collection, the rest just kinda… do nothing.”

“-Doesn’t that make the rest of Underworld the ‘deadbeats’?” You find this to be a good moment for an interjection born from your own curiosity.

“Shit, Anon… got ‘em good, I’ll roast ‘em for you when I head back home. Guess my kind lacks creativity as well as spirit.” Somehow, it doesn't surprise you in the slightest that Calli’s audaciousness distinguishes her as the unique one even amidst her people.

“You love the real world, Calli?” Watson asks a question already familiar to you, it’s somewhat of a go-to for her whenever anything can be related to her captivation with civilization.

“Fuck yeah, girlfriend. This human world is exhilarating as all hell. There’s so much fascination, so much vibrancy, so much… life.” Calli breathes insightfully, creating an atmosphere of compounded reflection.

“~It’s a society of velocity… comin’ at me with ferocity~ got me caught up in its intensity, losing myself in the- big city~!” And then she spits out some seriously smooth verses, the cleanest lines you’ve heard her speak yet. If you can take your hands off the wheels right now, you would’ve clapped at least twice.

Thankfully, Watson is there to do your part of the cheering and laughing. “Hahahaha~! Man, that’s a rhythm, alright! This’s what I’m talking about! You got a clear talent for the tunes!”

“Nah, nah… the ending is ass… I’m nowhere near good… God, why am I like this…” Saddeningly, for yourself and the pinkhead, her self-deprecating judgemental assertion shuts down her mood all too suddenly. The brief burst of zest when her lyrics flowed is gone and replaced by dubiety.

“C’mon! You’re being too harsh on yourself! I really think you got a real knack for this!” Watson strives on, giving Calli her vote of confidence.

“No. I’m not- I’m like the thousandth Slim Shady. I don’t wanna add to the count of SoundCloud rappers.”

“Calli… don’t be so down on yourself now.” The sourness in the air is tangible with the way the reaper is sounding as she downplays her own talnet. Even Watson seems affected by Calli’s despondence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to rain on you two. Ya boy is just pretty realistic about all this. Everyone’s got a dream when they’re young, yeah? Doesn’t mean we should all act on it when we grow up. I mean… sure I wanna be a rapping reaper, but it’s like… who the fuck am I, right? I’m not good enough.”

In some ways, you can’t really argue against what Calli subscribes to. Dreaming is easy, it’s free, it’s why there’re so many idealists throughout every generation. Most people hardly ever achieve anything in life other than mediocrity, it’s just how things are. Maybe Calli is just someone who woke up earlier than the rest.

“But if you quit when you think you’re not good enough, when will you ever be good enough?” Pretty brutal of Watson to slap the not-rapper over the head with that slab of reality, countering her realistic approach. You definitely feel the impact from as far as the driver's seat.

“Guh…” An appropriate reaction, honestly.

Calli stews in that for a minute, ‘that’ being an unquantifiable mixture of self-pity, loathing and maybe some slices of optimism if your assumption is correct.

“Oh- yo, YO! We here, we here!” Saved by your transportation arriving at the designated location, Calli slips away from suffering a bit of a crisis.

You pull over the Mercedes by the roadside of an average two-way street, nowhere near any major tourist attractions. You survey the new environment Calli appointed as your AO. A few pedestrians strolling by the sidewalk, two to five-story commercial buildings on both sides, a car passing by as you shift the gear into P for park. This is a titular example of a normal day in Tokyo, the perfect occasion for some Paranormal killing.

“You know where the target is precisely?” Between the alleyways and the rooftops, you really hope Calli can provide actionable coordinates instead of leading you three on a blind search.

“Yep, she’s in the basement of that ramen shop. I’m sensing two distinct souls down there. One is the necromancer and the other is whoever she snatched from Heaven. Should be an easy case, I’ll just… slash some bitches and send both souls down under to be sorted.”

“Okay, let’s head out.” You recommend, meeting no resistance from your two passengers.

You exit the vehicle along with the rest, remembering to grab your guitar case in the car trunk. You must admit it’s a massive cliché to conceal your gear within some type of instrument container, it’s pretty much taken straight out of Hollywood. Which you did, movies were your sole inspiration for coming up with this inconspicuous setup. You really hope it works well, just like in the source material.

Anon: The Professional? No, it doesn't sit right. That is also not a Hollywood movie.

The trio of you casually strolls to the entrance of the shabby ramen restaurant Calli denoted, only to discover it’s already fallen victim to the invisible hand of the free market. It’s labelled as a foreclosure. Not that this affects your team in any manner, since your objective here isn’t filling your bellies.

The drawn curtains prevent you from gaining a peek inside, so you move on to try the front door. Locked, obviously.

“Backup strategy, ladies?” Saying ‘ladies’ is a shade weird, thankfully neither Watson nor Calli seems to care.

“Let’s head around the back, we can bust down a backdoor and not have to worry about civilians.” Solid justification from Watson, persuading you guys to follow her as she takes the lead into the back alleys.

The thing about alleyways in Japan though, is that they’re built like a labyrinth at some places. One of those places is here. Still, you trust Watson to discover a passage forward, it’s kinda her thing.

“Calli, earlier you said one of the souls is abducted, how can you be sure of that?” While meandering through the structural maze of many backdoors, Watson remembers a detail in Calli’s outline and delves for more information.

“I mean, shit, people don’t wanna leave Heaven. That’s the whole point of believing in God, right?” A rather salient argument, almost too logical from someone like the Hot Topic enjoyer.

“But if you kill her and send her to Hell… won’t that be a bit unfair?”

“The fuck…? What? Oh, are you confusing Underworld for Hell, gal?” Calli’s expression contorts slightly to display her unsolicited pique, this seems to be a touchy subject for the pinkhead. Watson quickly notices the displeasure and gestures to her lack of offense.

“Shit, sorry if that hits a nerve.”

“Nah, fam. Fuck me tho, I didn’t explain this?”

“No…? Maybe I’m a dummy who just forgot.” It’ll be pretty hard to forget the hierarchy of the afterlife for all humans once learned, you know this from experience.

“Damn, it’s still unreal to me that you folks only ascended about ten years ago. Must be a brand-new world when that thing- the whatchamacallit, that thing, the event.”

“The Rapture.” You help Calli when her memory fails.

“Right, right. Can’t believe you guys were just never aware of ghosts and devils and whatnot before that. Pretty wacky to me, dawg.” You kinda want to make an interjection regarding her specious statement, let her know the Foundation is a thing that existed. However, its relevance is somewhat faded, and so should your lingering sentiments.

“Anyway, what I wanna talk about is the afterlife. Shit ain’t too complicated. There are three places for a soul to go after death. Heaven, Hell, and the Purgatory, which is in the Underworld. Now, all the souls gotta go to us first, that’s the rule. They hang out in Purgey for a bit, then they go to either Heaven or Hell.”

This is elementary to you, so your reaction is minimal. Although you are not a good template for determining how astonishing these findings should be to most people. For Watson, who certainly didn’t learn this in elementary school, she’s taking the news with strides.

“Huh… is entry to Heaven or Hell decided through the biblical interpretation of judgement then?”

“For Christians, fa'sho’. It’s just what the person believes. If in your subconscious you believe you deserve Heaven, boom, you’ll be there. Of course, exceptions exist. Like psychopaths and crazy dudes don’t get a free pass just because they think differently.” A functional system.

“Anyway, the souls can spend as long as they need in Purgatory to come to that decision, it’s what the place is for. It used to be harder to get out, but after that Raptu… oh- OHHHHHHH!” Suddenly, Calli lights up in amazement and delight. “I get it now! It’s literally the Rapture! Like in the Bible! Yoooo~! Sick biblical reference, my dudes!”

“Yeah, guess it’s a fitting one.” You weren’t familiar with anyone behind selecting the name of that day’s event, so you can’t say with certainty if the attribution is intentional or coincidental. What you’re certain of is the fact that only a handful had insight into the workings of the afterlife before that time.

“Hold on, if everyone chooses where they wanna go. Then nobody would want to go to Hell!” Acute deductive skills from Watson, as always.

“Yeah, it’s a real problem for the Red-man. There’s a severe imbalance between the population of Heaven and Hell. The plan was for most souls to go to Hell, but now the place is pretty empty. I guess God isn’t a big fan of this either, since Heaven’s supposed to be the smaller gate or something. But then he can just compel everything to change, so maybe he’s cool with it?”

“Jeez… my mom didn’t believe in any god, and she never raised me with any religious inclinations. I always thought there is a higher power that be… I dunno, maybe it’s what I wanted to believe. But after this Rapture thing, it’s made everything real…” The human brain is only capable of containing so many concepts, it’s a trial for the average everyday man to wrap their heads around the fact that reality is now every favour of fiction combined.

“It does make gods and deities a real thing too.” You round up the jumbled concepts for Watson.

“Ugh… I guess I always knew my mom is a liar.” The detective sighs, her internal conflict has been a mystery since the dawn of your introduction. It feels almost like she’s teasing you with the little snippets of her past she sporadically shares, but she’s in for a disappointment if she thinks that will drive you to investigate. You are not the detective here.

“This should be it, Calli?”

“Yep. I feel ‘em right under our feet.”

Around this time is when Watson finally finds the path to the rear of the restaurant, where an empty loading bay is all that’s accessible for a normal denizen. The back entry is restricted by a closed roller shutter for cargo and a closed steel door for employees.

The blonde goes to try the backdoor but finds a regular keylock prohibiting her progress.

“What a pain, give me a minute to pick it.” Says the exceptionally resourceful Watson as she retrieves a set of tools from somewhere on her person and gets to work. “Calli, can’t you just teleport in or something, like how you met Anon the first time?” A valid suggestion from Watson, the part-time locksmith.

“It doesn’t work like that. I can only teleport to what the collective consciousness considers as public spaces. Parks, roads, parking lots.” What a strangely contrived methodology the Underworld runs on.

“And why is that?” You take your turn to ask, but Calli provides a shrug for an answer.

“There’re a shit-ton of regulations for us reapers, I guess the big D-man wanna run a tight ship. We also can’t teleport directly into people’s line of sight, but that’s pretty understandable, have a good day.”

Following that nonsensical sentence, Watson almost immediately groans. You can tell it’s an impulsive wince. “This Goddamn lock! Die already!” She plays it off flawlessly, however, so smoothly Calli never notices.

“So yeah, back to our thing. It’ll be fine if I send ‘em both under, the necromance-e… the necromancer-ed…? The one who got necromanced… they’ll be back up top after a while. And the necromancer, we’ll lock up in Purgey for her crime.” An impartial punishment that you’re impartial to.

“Okay, we’re in.” Upon making her declaration, Watson twists the doorknob and pulls open a view into a dilapidated kitchen. No lights, no life.

This is the opportunity for you to plunge yourself into the mindset of a man on a mission, and your missions always come packing heat.

You unzip your guitar case, revealing the chaste HK433 with a collapsible stock alongside numerous gadgets and equipment. Rifles these days are much smaller than guitars, giving you ample room in the container to fit all sorts of goodies. You attach the AR to a magnet sting and strap that across your back. You’ve grown used to the weight of a Kevlar vest and plates, it feels so weird now to be in the field without that burden and protection.

“You have a flashlight in there, Anon?” Watson leans over your shoulder, examining your collection of hardware.

“Best I can do is a mountable one.” You offer the blonde a modular flashlight attachment meant to go on Picatinny rails, Watson accepts your gift for it to be added to the underside of her Unica. You’re not sure if you taught her how those rails work, but the girl seems to have it handled.

“Fellers, I don’t really think you’ll be needing these… we’re up against one chick, two at max. I’ll be the one doing the slashing, don’t forget.” Calli dares to comment something you don’t quite appreciate when you stand back up. She’s already donning her work uniform, the one with a crown and comically large spikes around the collars.

“It’s just how Anon rolls. The man is only attracted to polymer and aluminum.” Lies, slander.

“Oh boy, that’s gotta be rough.”

“Yeah… tell me about it.”

“You’re not interested in girls, my guy? It’s an awful lotta gay, if you get what I’m saying. N-not that there’s anything wrong with being gay tho, you do you, my man.” What is this strange unsought intervention, and why is Calli not sensing the sarcasm in Watson’s tone?

“The most he goes for is possibly fucking our arms dealer. But now that I think about it, you should actually give her a good dicking, might get us better deals.”

Watson is pretty good at pushing your buttons, even if sometimes she has a habit of pushing the wrong ones or just pushing them too often. You don’t enjoy those instances, not in the least. You let her off without a spanking this time, only because starting a fight now could alert Calli’s targets.

God, I wish rape is legal. Woah there, that’s a bit too extreme coming out of you.

God, I wish domestic violence is legal. There you go, much better. And domestic? What did you mean by that?

You show zero percent interest in continuing the group’s previous conversation. “Calli, take point.”

“Point? Point to where, homie?” You gotta stop doing this, to both yourself and others.

“Just- go first, we’ll follow.” The pinkhead flashes you a shrewd glance, but still moves to enter the store. “Keep your eyes open.”

“I know, how else would I see?” Watson giggles, you seethe inside.

The interior is exactly what you expect from a rundown ramen kitchen such as this one. Grimy stoves and counters lined up against the wall, wooden chairs stacked up in piles to one side of the room, overhead air vents dangling from the ceiling is now the residence of the local spider and their cobwebs.

“White light going up.” Once the three of you are too deep inside to rely on the ambient glow of the afternoon sun, you extend a finger on your left hand to flick on the flashlight mounted to your rifle. Watson follows suit to provide her own illumination.

The moment a light source shines through the darkness, you’re pretty sure you see something small skirt along the floor that same instant, away from where the brightness can graze. This in itself should be no reason to tense up, but the atmosphere it creates is very effective in getting easily frightened individuals to sweat.

Thankfully, you’re not one faint of heart, unless it involves anything that strikes at your one fear.

Your foot leaves a print on the dirty pavement caked in a layer of dust, and ahead of your steps are additional tracks heading further into the ramen shop. “Got a trail on the floor. Two sets, small.”

“We’re getting closer, I can taste the souls asking for some carving.” Calli’s emphasis on ‘taste’ is mildly concerning, but maybe she’s just cracking a joke relating to the nature of the restaurant. You’re not sure.

You direct the tip of your gun to radiate wherever you want your sight picture to contain as you carefully survey the room. There doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary so far. Just some old cardboard boxes dumped in a corner, a row of pans hanging by their handles, a scrawny figure of ash jumping out of a cupboard brandishing a chef's knife.

Is that fucking Sans Underta- Before the train of thought can reach the next station, it is horribly derailed by a blur of motion as a flash of darkness rips through the pale bones.

“AH-! Jesus! F-fuck!” Watson shouts as the skeleton clatters to the floor, already shattered into hundreds of pieces. The demise of the already deceased doesn’t prevent her from leaping back in fear. It’s a cute reaction, proving that she’s still a girl deep within.

“Aw, nice jump scare, buddy! Too bad ya boy is also all about the calcium gain.” Calli, in her calmest mood yet, praises the sneak attack and lowers her scythe with a graceful vaunt.

A skeleton clearly exhibiting hostile intent in its attack was chopped down by the reaper with a massive sickle. You reconstruct the past three seconds into its logical diagnosis and force yourself to accept reality. What a time to be alive. This is getting a little spooky now, but also somewhat exciting. You’re going to have to aim higher to hit those headshots since bare bones don’t come with the fleshy muscles of a human target.

“W-what happened!? I thought we’re only dealing with two people!”

“Yeah, and bones ain’t people, duh.” It’s your turn to laugh at Watson’s expense. Calli sure is funny when she’s messing with someone that isn’t you.

“Is the necromancer controlling the skeletons?” You ask a more tactical question, much to Calli’s glee.

“Check out the big brain on Anon! That’s right, the chick probably builds them herself, it’s a classic trick of theirs to bolster their numbers.”

“So there’s gonna be more… what the hell, man…” Watson complains, a solicitation for some more kins of Skeletor to attack.

Right on cue, another wave of four spooky lads come rushing in from the dining room. Unfortunately for them and their owner, spoilers seriously take the punch out of a horror scene. The second time around just lacks that impact of the first.

Calli boldly charges forward and is already going to town on the poor bones, the refined edge of her bladed tool slicing and dicing through unready foes. The normally daft girl is maneuvering herself like a feather in the wind, every movement delivering lethality from the heel of her boot to the tip of her scythe. This matches your image of a reaper nesting within your consciousness, an exquisite bringer of deathly stupefaction.

However, she can’t be expected to do all the killing, that’s kinda your thing also. And it just so happens that a lonely pile of dry bones is running straight for you, presenting itself as a perfect quarry for you to test the viability of 5.56 against the skinny cartilage.

You take aim and pull the trigger, blasting a hole in the skull of the bony creature. It staggers backwards, falls, and tries to climb back onto its feet, but you send a few more rounds into its spine until the judder stops.

“Huh, bullets go through bones, dunno what I expected.” You’re sincerely surprised. They’re basically just flesh targets, but without the meat part. This isn’t half bad for practicing your aim in a CQC environment.

“T-then you can have your fun shooting them, I’ll- I’mma just… let you enjoy.” Watson, on the other hand, isn’t having the time of her life.

“Relax, I got you.” You backstep into her personal space, giving her a gentle nudge on the shoulder as she leans into your arm.

“Thanks… I’m not really good with these kinda things.” That’s understandable, everyone has a weakness or two.

And the good news for Watson is that her weakness has just been totally obliterated by the neighbourhood reaper. Calli is simply standing in the centre of the empty diner, surrounding her are heaps of ashes and bones disseminated in the time it takes you to kill a single one. You only catch the ending snippet of her dance with the pale fodder under the white light of your attachment, but this girl has skills with that blade honed from decades of practice.

It kinda makes you wonder how she was so easily subdued by your team during your first encounter. You decide it’s best not to contemplate too hard into that unless you want a hit to your ego.

The reaper twirls around, carrying in her steps the elegance of a ballerina. She sees you watching her, and smiles cutely despite her haunting appearance in the darkness alight only by your white beam. “Room’s clear, Calli?”

“Nay, sire. It’s still really dirty.” Is she doing this on purpose? She has to be.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah… that should be most of ‘em. She would’ve sent more if she’s got more.” That’s a reasonable assumption. These skeletons are best utilized in a ‘Zerg Rush’ type of attack, given how fragile they are without the support of numbers.

“Let’s continue.”

With a little search and Calli’s sensory, you three soon discover a hatch buried in the back of the storage room. This is where the reaper promises you the souls are hiding, so naturally you go to lift up the gate.

“Hol’up. There’s one chick with her face right up against the hatch, waiting to pounce on the sucker who pulls it open.” Calli offers a helpful warning.

“So how do you know if they’re male or female?” Unsurprisingly, the detective is always the one with an eye for the details and the courage to inquire. It’s probably the courage she saved up from earlier, while the skeletons were rattling.

“Spirits have a shape, so I can see the- uuuhm…” Calli then motions both hands over her breasts, really putting the prominence on her larger-than-most assets. “Although these two are kinda weak in this regard, but they don’t got anything downstairs.”

“…So you see penises all day?” Watson, bold and brash.

“Woah, WOAH! Hey- listen! Don’t gotta call me out like that, girly! There’s also the physique, the hair length, and all the other shit! You’re jumping to conclusions here! It’s not-! It’s ain’t like that!” A flustered Calli hastily fortifies her case of ‘not being a creep’, too bad the persuasiveness of her argument is thwarted ten-fold by her boiling cheeks.

While the girls were busy being girls, you’ve completed constructing a pulley to rip open the hatch with a rope tethered to a shelf on the side so nobody has to be standing directly in the line of harm when it is unsealed. “Can you two stop and get ready?”

“Yep- yep, let’s hit it.”

“Yeah, I’ll just stand back and err- cover you guys.” Sounds like a plan.

What else is there to do with a plan other than to execute? Which is exactly what your team does. You tug hard on the rope and up comes the hatch that’s the last line of defense for the dwellers in the basement. At the same second, Calli’s predictable prey indeed lunges out without any viable targets in sight. A womanly shade of red and black zooms pass your vision and lands clumsily on the stained floor, this is almost a side-splitting scene were it not for the sword in the girl’s rotten hand.

Rotten…?

The girl-like figure scrambles to her feet, frightful tremors running up and down all throughout her petite frame. That’s when you get your first good look at it, and that mistake instantly lends her dose of shudder to your core.

“AHH-! A-a-a-a- a ZOMBIE?! Fuck-! Fuck- fuck- F-FUCK!” You shakily snap your rifle to the ready, your body pumped full of adrenaline, which cannot be a common occurrence for someone with only one fear.

“WAAAAH! NO! PLEEEEASE! Stop! Stop-! Stop-! Stop-! Stop-! STOOOOP!” The zombie screams for mercy, but her plea falls on deaf ears of a man on the brink of screaming himself.

“Yo, Anon, chill-!”

“Kill it! KILL IT NOW!”

In your hysterical panic, you hold down the trigger for the longest second. Most of your shots fly wide due to the unstable shooting platform that is your quivering arms. Although two rounds are on a collision path with the forehead of the redhead zombie. Not because you strenuously aimed there or anything, it’s just dumb luck.

What should’ve been a neutralized threat and a conquered distress is instead intercepted by the swift swing of sharpened steel. In the blurry aftermath, you detect the zombie girl is still very much undead thanks to a briskly save by the reaper’s scythe, you cannot spare the higher function to fathom the degree of precision and speed required to slice two bullets out of the air.

“HEY! The fuck, man!? You good, dawg? Stay cool, dude! It’s gotta be me who gets the kills, alright?”

“Anon, Anon! You gotta calm down!” Your two compatriots come to your sanity’s rescue, it’s only thanks to them you’re able to regain your wits and straighten out your trigger finger.

“Shi- shit, SHIT! Restraint that thing now! Fuck me dude!” You shout your demand at the confused Calli, who thankfully follows through despite the shambles by sweeping the feet out from under the zombie and pressing her on the floor.

“OWWW! That HUUUUUUURTS!” Good, it better.

“-No! Stop that! PLEASE! Don’t hurt her! Please!” From the lightless depths, another shrill voice cries out for the discontinuation of violence, but it’s too late for peace-treaties signings now.

“Don’t fuckin’ even tryna breathe, bitch! You know exactly what we’re here for! Come out here now!” While her knee is digging into the Zombie’s shoulder blade, Calli prepares her guard towards the second target concealed in the shadows of the cellar. Under normal circumstances, you’d be glad to illuminate the darkness, but right now isn’t such a good time.

“H-he-here, use this.” Still super startled, you extend your body as much as possible without inching closer to the crimson freak under Calli’s leg to throw her some cable ties. “Tie it up now.”

“Hey-hey-hey! Not so ROUGH!” One swift ghastly motion later, the zombie is squirming on the floor with her hands and feet bound together. “Rushiiiii-! Help plssssssss!”

Watson takes a second to run over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re alright, Anon. You’ll be all good, buddy.”

“Yeah… okay… okay.” Watson’s gentle voice reassures you, the warmth of her caress gradually dispels your strain, pacifying your pounding heart to soothe your particular fear.

You still really want to send a bullet through the zombie’s head, but the situation has been contained to a degree where such a reaction can be deemed unnecessary. It takes self-control to stick to your discipline instead of your instinct, and it’s not an effervescent internal conflict happening within you.

Your makeshift handcuffs return freedom to Calli’s lower body, enabling her to give the zombie a powerful kick, booting the female corpse to one corner of the room before properly readying herself to clash against the necromancer in hiding. “Come out now shithead! Don’t force me to go in there and start chopping up bits!”

“Okay… I-I’m coming up now! J-just please don’t hurt us!” The terrified plea of a young girl reaches you, high-pitched and jittery. It doesn’t match your preconceived notion of a conjurer’s attitude.

You keep your rifle trained on the exit, where a teeny maiden slowly climbs up the stairs into the glimmer of yours and Watson’s flashlights. You see her short emerald hair tied into two buns, tear-stained face dirtied by unfamiliar cinders, an unkempt and ripped piece of clothing resembling a teal dress. You don’t know what a necromancer should look like, but this isn’t it.

It’s just a goddamn kid… On its own, that fact changes nothing. But now you have to figure out if that’s all there is to this child’s condemnation.

“Hands! Show me your hands!” That’s something you’d normally say, but Calli cut ahead of you. It could be a phrase that she naturally knows or learned from your initial encounter. You hope it’s the latter, if only so you can leech a sliver of pride from her growth.

The small witch complies, presenting her empty palms to verify her lack of an obvious weapon. “D-don’t hurt us… don’t hurt us, please…” Her tears resume their flow on a route starting from her crimson eyes down her cheeks to the floor, there is unadulterated fear in those orbs. Unlike your own experience with distress, hers aren’t fading away.

“You know who I am.” To Calli’s question, the girl nods ruefully.

“You know why I’m here.” Without her usual goofiness, the reaper never appeared so serious, or threatening.

“Yes…”

“Any last words?”

“NO! P-P-PLEASE! J-just let me explain-!”

“-Say goodnight.”

“PLEASE DON-!” Not giving her victim another second, Calli raises her tool of harvest for bloodshed.

“-Wait!” You grab Calli by her wrist, the sheer force of her swing in motion is heftier than you ever imagined.

“Anon, not now, okay?” Mercy isn’t normally associated with a character like you, but the scenario demands a better explanation.

“Let the girl tell her story.” You don’t believe the roles of judge, jury and executioner all belong to the reaper on duty. An extenuation is a basic right offered to all accused. Everyone deserves a chance to make their case before a tribunal, even if there’s only a cast of three.

Calli sternly glares at you, the harshest glint you ever see in her pupils. However, you refuse to stand down, meeting her challenge of will head-on as you zealously let your gazes connect. Beneath her shivering beauty, you see a soul buried deep down that is willing to relent, you just need to bring that compassion to the surface.

“You’ve never killed someone, Calliope.” Marginally, she flinches from your statement. The educated guess dents the shell of a dutiful reaper that shelters her heart.

“And it matters how?”

“Don’t let the first blood you spill be of obligation. Only do it when it’s truly what your entire self desires.”

“I have a job to do.”

“Your job doesn’t define who you are.”

The brilliance in Calli’s vermilion eyes shimmers for the shortest second, reflecting a hint of hesitation, perhaps even sympathy. You know this craving to stay dedicated to one’s occupation, to sink oneself into the work. You understand this mindset too well, but it’s no way to live.

“Are you telling me to just forget why I’m here?” Maybe you’re the wrong one, maybe you’re only trying to impose your own values onto someone who didn’t ask for your suggestion.

Nonetheless, it takes time to truly reach an equilibrium between diligence and negligence, which is really all you’re asking from the salaried collector “Calli, just slow down, and listen… to what they have to say.”

The pinkhead let her gaze stall with yours for a moment longer, implicit sentiments flare in the little universe for two. You recognize the reaper’s grandeur, the irresistible allure. Too bad now isn’t the best occasion for indulgence, you have to maintain control over your lesser self.

You both turn back to the subject of your dispute, having arrived at a mutual agreement to at least damper the bloodlust. However, you are mildly alarmed when the green-haired sorceress isn’t where you left her.

“Hey, look, whatever the verdict is. I think it’s best for all of us to stay calm and listen to what these two have to say. They don’t post a danger like this anyway.” Says Watson, presenting her handiwork. The two culprits are sitting on the grubby floor side by side with their hands tied behind their backs.

You don’t remember giving Watson her set of cable ties, it’s gotta be her preparation at work again. That purse of hers is absolutely bigger on the inside, you’re convinced. By the same token, you aren’t even sure where she holsters her revolver. Still so many mysteries remain undiscovered with this girl.

“Okay, let’s hear it. Bring out your sob story.” Finally, Calli yields, propping herself up by her scythe and crossing her arms. She passes the metaphorical mic to the unnamed saps all too happy to live some extra minutes.

“T-thank you! Thank you so much! I-I- my name is Rushia, and this’s Ollie. We’ve known each other since f-forever! She’s my best friend! A-and I can’t… I couldn’t let her die!” Newly shed tears run down the same track like the old, moistening the face of the young necromancer.

“I’m sorry! I… I’m so SORRY! I know…! I know necromancy is prohibited! B-but I can’t-! I can’t let her die without fulfilling her dream! It’s all she ever wanted-! Please… I’ll never use necromancy again I promise! Please, just let us go, I beg you!”

Not missing a beat, the poorly stitched zombie prolongs her friend’s imploration. “Rushi is only doing this for me! She’s not someone who does it intentionally! If you must… just take me back! But don’t harm her, please! I beg you too!”

“NO! Wait- no! You can’t do that, Ollie! That’d make everything we did pointless! I-if someone has to… I’m the one who committed the deed! Punish me! J-just let her go, please!”

The girls continue to deliriously cry their eyes out, hunching over and slumping onto the floor. This is a scene you’ve witnessed many times, for a variety of reasons. Viewing the same emotional turmoil play out countless times, you grow to hate yourself. You hate how you’ve grown numb to the same aftermath of tragedy.

Fortunately, the others are still fresh to this, as their expressions of condolence demonstrate. “What the fuck, dude… then why did you attack us with your skeletons?” Calli struggles with the morality of decision, trying to find a defect in the spiritualist’s lamentable narrative.

“I’m sorry-! I’m sorry-! I’m sorry! They’re just supposed to scare away regular people! But I know why you’re here… I had to defend us! I’m so SORRY, please! Forgive us, forgive us, forgive us!” That is a fair excuse from a weeping young girl you’re willing to accept.

“Could your boss have messed up on this one, Calli? I don’t think he’d send you after these two, they aren’t a threat to someone.” Watson bargains for leniency for those who have run out of ways to say ‘please’.

“Goddamn shit… it ain’t supposed to go down like this.” Calli spares a hand to tiredly rub the bridge of her nose, the blonde understands her quarrel and sighs. “I gotta send down two souls, one marked for crimes against the human condition. It’s what I gotta do.”

“C’mon, that just can’t be right! Her crime is that she defies death? Is that it? That’s a bit outrageous now, isn’t it?”

“It’s the rule, It’s my job.” Callous is how you would describe this Calliope right now.

“No, no! That’s not right! *hic!* *hic!* This whole time I thought they asked you to kill the necromancer because she’s a menace. Raising an army of undead or tormenting souls! This is a victimless crime here!” Abruptly, a fire is lit ablaze in Watson, she must staunchly believe the innocence of the accused if she reacts this valiantly to their allegation.

“Watson… I represent the eventuality of life. My industry is ensuring the continuation of the cycle. Of course we’ll have problems if dudes start breaking out left, right and centre.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to police humanity! You’re of the spiritual realm, but we’re humans! We’re the rulers of this reality! Mankind creates and destroys, prevails and perishes. It’s all of our own volition! Your kind has no say on who deserves life and death!”

Only the strangest incentives can get things to become this heated. For now, you stand idle and watch from the sideline along with the two who incited the squabble. Whether this conflict of ideology will escalate or diminish, and who’s conviction will triumph. You cannot and will not estimate.

“Yes, and? All men die, Watson! I am that eternal limitation to man’s ambition. That is who I am, that is my name. I am inevitable!”

“You dare say that when you’re here precisely to kill someone who’s broken free from the cycle!? That’s outlandishly hypocritical! You have no right to police a system that you can no longer perpetuate!”

“Okay, that’s great and all. Just one problem though. Says who? We have to ensure the system functions precisely because people break it! If you really have an issue with death, you gotta take it up to the big boss, God himself. I mean, what does the Bible say about death? He made all this stuff, right?”

“That doesn’t make death a destiny, it’s a hindrance to human progress! You have no right to meddle in our affairs! And God hasn’t been smiting people ever since year zero!”

“The spiritual and earthly realms are forever connected. You can’t just tell us not to-”

Calli stands her ground unrelentingly, however, Watson is packing too much passion to let her finish. “- ‘Then saith he unto them, Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's.’. I don’t subscribe to your philosophy, Calliope. Nothing is inevitable.”

This is… nostalgic. As for you, you do have your own opinions on the matter, but they are not for sharing.

“…That’s too bad. Live forever if you can.” This is a clear deceleration to the tempo of the animated exchange. Regardless of the winner, Calli obviously is no longer interested in a verbal showdown. “But I still gotta cross names off my list, so it’s on you to act if you feel so strongly about letting them live.”

Finally, something you can actually contribute. “-Actually, I know someone that can help.”

Finally, it’s your turn to ‘know someone’.

Watsons looks your way, hope and gratitude are the emotions she projects. “In that case, please and thank you.”

Having received her consent, you pull out your smartphone and dial an old number imbedded deep in your contacts list.

The phone rings twice and is picked up on the third. <<Hey, uh… it’s me. I need your help for a thing.>>

Your request generates a snort of sorts from the receiving end that echoes in your ear. <<Woah, it’s been years since you called, A***.>>

That is a name you don’t use these days. You dislike being addressed by it. <<You know what I go by. Do not do that again.>>

<<…Okay, Anon. Sorry. So what do you need me for?>>

<<Can you come over to me? It’s better to explain this in person.>>

<<Fine okay, only because I’m bored, understand?>> Ending the dialogue with that, she hangs up.

“So…? Is your guy coming to help us?” Watson inquires. It’s a nice feeling to know she depends on you.

“Yeah. She’ll be here, if you can just take a big step back.”

“What do you-?” Initially confused, Watson only realizes what she is suddenly standing over when the reddish glow intrudes upon her vision. “Ack! What the hell!?”

Heh… hell, funny.

A startled Watson leaps backwards like a frog out of water, mouth slightly agape in shock. The floorboard she was above is now decorated by an inverted pentagram, roughly one metre in diameter and emitting a dark crimson fluorescence, The entire audience, minus you, is fixated on the unworldly symbol seeping unnerving undertone into every inch of the storage room.

From that pentacle manifests a being of human shape and human appearance, yet completely inhuman.

“~Hey! ~Hey! Human suckers~! Humans who love being fuckers~! Hey! ~Hey! Human suckers~! Humans who love being fuckers~! HEY! ~HEY! Human suckers~! Humans who love being fuckers~! HEY! ~HEY! Human SUCKERS~! Humans who love being FUCKERS~!”

Because this girl is purely concentrated cringe. Incredibly, it’s gotten even worse since you last met.

“Wassup- PEOPLE! It’s the great and mighty Tokoyami Towa! That’s me! You better have a good reason for summoning the amazing, the fearless, the undefeated, the flawless… and the mighty… Towa!”

Instant fucking regret.