HEY YOU.

CHECK OUT THE KOOL WITH A K VIDEO I MADE ON THE SIDE OF THE CHAPTER. It's called "The Bad Man" on Youtube, named after that scene in the fun house when Little Faith says The Bad Man is after her. 

;)

Ahoy, Reapers! Don't forget to vote if you enjoy the chapter, and write a comment! I love reading them! :DDDD

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           "I don't feel safe anymore, David." I stared down at my untouched slice of pizza on the coffee table. The last thing I wanted to do was eat pizza at a time like this, and now David was devouring slice after slice, watching a muted recording of a Chicago Bears game on the television in the corner of the room.

            I was boring him.

            Typical guy.

            David was too normal to be Death.

            "It's perfectly understandable that you feel that way," David replied. "But what I don't understand is why hasn't he forced you to sign the contract by now? Against your will?"

            I slid my eyes to David's. "What would you have done by now if you were him?"

            "Honestly?" He leaned back on the couch, watching me. "I probably would have just taken flight and dangled you over the city until you gave in."

            "That's way too simple for him." I sipped my Sprite until I was sucking up air, my upset stomach making strange noises. "He's crazy, and wants to play a game. Crazy people don't go for obvious options. He'll probably drag on this cat and mouse thing until my birthday, until the last minute. Then he'll trick me into signing the contract." I rolled my eyes. "He's like that freaking Saw guy, I swear. Talk about unoriginal. He even masks his identity like a little baby. Like it'll make a difference if I know what he looks like."

            "Maybe he's ugly."

            "Nobody is as cocky as him when they're ugly."

             Unless I did something to avoid him, Death had almost five complete days to make me his. David had given me as much advice as he could, but I still didn't feel prepared. David told me that anything holy should have prevented Death from touching me or getting near me, that Death must have been wearing something to repel it. A necklace or a ring meant to repel everything holy. If I could expose him to holy objects, I had a chance to keep him away from me.

            "But how could I possibly get something that would obviously be very important to him, off?"

            David took the last slice from the pizza box out. "A deal, probably. He loves that crap. Everyone in Heaven and in Hell knows that."

            "A deal..." I mumbled, starting to pace the room. "What kind of deal?"

            "Death! Help me! Death!"

            I looked around the room, fully alert. "Did you hear that?" I asked David. That voice had sounded so familiar...

            David paused, mid-bite. "Hear what?" he asked around a mouthful of food.

            Suddenly, I felt like floating between two worlds; stuck between standing David's office and Little Faith's room.

            Her little body ran all over the place rapidly opening drawers and throwing makeup products onto her bed. Once she appeared to be done, Little Faith leaped onto her bed and pretended to choke herself.

            Now I was standing completely in Little Faith's room, no longer in David's office.

                        "Death! Help me! Death!"

            A black amorphous mist appeared by Little Faith's window. Death appeared in a solid form. When he spotted the little girl, he relaxed significantly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Faith, what the hell are you doing to yourself?" 

            "Bad word!" Little Faith said, still choking herself.

            The hooded man stalked across the room to the bed, separating Little Faith's hands from her throat as she giggled. She grabbed onto his gloved hands and leaned on him as she jumped. "Weeee!"

            Death growled a little, tearing his hands from hers. "I told you, only call me if it's emergency. As in, you're really being hurt. Not if you're pretending to choke yourself. I don't want to see you doing that ever again. Understand? I was very busy."

            "Ok!" Little Faith smiled. "I was losing ox-cotton! Now you're here!"

             Death jammed his hand under his hood, probably running a hand angrily through his hair. "It's oxygen, sweetheart. Oxygen is what you breath in--"

            "That's what I said, Blanky! Now play with me!" Little Faith got up and jumped up and down on her bed in front of him. "I want to give you a makeover and make you look pretty with lip-shick and eye shadow...and--and some sparkly lip-a-gloss."

            "I like the makeover the way it is, Faith. As in, not on me."

            "I'm doing your makeup!"

            "Faith," Death sighed. "You're not going to manipulate me again. You already did my hair--"

            "BLANKY!" Little Faith roared, no longer jumping on the bed. She jabbed a chubby finger in Death's shadowy face. "YOU WILL LET ME FINISH YOUR MAKEUP AND YOU WILL LIKE IT! I WORK--ED HARD TO GET YOU MY MOMMY'S NEW LIP-A-GLOSS AND LIPSH-TICK! YOU WILL LIKE IT!!!"

            He cringed back at her roar. "You terrify me. And I've seen some terrifying things."

            Little Faith fluttered her eyelashes and smiled sweetly. "He-he!"

            Death stood in front of her unmoving, staring down at the assortment of hair products and big girl makeup on her bed that she took out. "I'd rather gauge my eyes out than put all of this on my face..." Death murmured bitterly to himself. But when he noticed Little Faith glaring at him, he quickly added, "Wow, I love makeup! Woo-hoo!"

            "I knew you'd like it!" Little Faith clapped happily, grabbing onto Death's cloak with two tiny fists and jumping up and down on the bed. "I'm going to make you look like a lady and then you can marry Mr. Wiggles and then we'll all be married and then you'll have our babies!"

            "I'll have the babies?" At that, Death shook his head. "No, no, no, no. Hold up, I don't want to be the woman in this relationship. I enjoy being a man, I really do. I enjoy it a lot. I have a reputation, pumpkin. I'm the Angel of Death. I'm manly. Very, very manly. Manly men don't wear makeup."

            "Manly men? Re-poo-tat-station? Is that why you left me and said you had to do "errands"? Because of your re-poo-tat-station?" Faith stopped jumping on the bed, her lip puckering outwards and her big blue eyes filling with tears. "Y-y-you---y-you don't want to p-play with me?"

            "Oh, shi--oot." Not sure what to do, Death grabbed Little Faith by the waist as she sniffed and lifted her up, holding her at arm's length in front of him.  She seemed to want to hug him, but instead, he placed her on ground in front of him. "Hey now," Death began awkwardly, "Big Girls smile, Faith. They don't cry--"

            She sniffled, then threw back her head and uncontrollably wailed.

            "Faith, shush!" Death whispered. "Your parents are going to hear."

            "Mommy and Daddy are watching Oprah in the basement," Little Faith sobbed. "Mommy fell asleep on Daddy and I wanted to"--she sniffled, about to explode into tears again-- "p-p-play with B-B-B-B-B-Blanky."

            Death fidgeted as she continued to wail, cringing slightly as she blew her nose wildly in Death's sleeve. "Sweetheart, please stop. Come on, it's making me nervous."

            She sobbed louder.

            "Please? You can finish the makeover! Whatever you want, ok? Just don't cry! I love your makeovers! Please don't cry. Look, I didn't touch a thing in my hair from this morning. See? It's all here." He then ripped off his hood, revealing tiny pony tails with pink hair ties and rainbow clips scattered randomly along a black Mohawk. A few of them had been neatly braided and there was even a trace of gold sparkles.

            He turned his shadowy face to the side, displaying his hair. "See? I didn't touch a thing. I wore it like this all day..." Under his breath, he added, "All damn day..."

            Little Faith stuck her thumb in her mouth, her eyes still wet with tears. "You love it, Blanky?" she muffled around her finger.

            "Um...well...I wouldn't say love... I couldn't really get it out..." He straightened, noticing Little Faith's face scrunch up with sadness again. "But it looks so good! So, SO good! You're a professional!"

            She covered her face and started to cry. "You don't like it! I did a bad hairdo! I ruined your re-poo-tat-station!"

            "Reputation," Death corrected, awkwardly patting her on the back. Before he could prevent her, Little Faith blew her nose loudly into the sleeve of his cloak and wiped at her eyes on his chest by rubbing her face against him.

             "That's nice," he said. Thank you for that, cupcake. I'm sure they have great detergent for that stain back in hell."

            "I just want to play with you, Blanky." She wrapped her little arms around his neck, weeping into his neck. "Please don't be mad at me. Y-you're my best friend."

            "Cupcake," Death breathed out, completely out of his comfort zone. He was the freaking Angel of Death. He handled the dead, sharp objects, and paranormal stuff. He enjoyed gore and pain. The last thing he knew how to handle was a sobbing, and excruciating adorable, little girl. A little girl who was obsessed with pink and--dare he say the word out loud, rainbows. "How could I be mad at you when I look so"--he visibly swallowed back his natural offensiveness - "pretty? I look so nice because of you. I love what you did to my hair. It's so pretty....colorful and bright..." He poked Little Faith on the nose. "Just like you, cupcake."

            Little Faith's mouth trembled, forming a bit of a smile. "Really? You think I'm pretty?"

            "Of course you're...pretty." Death sounded a bit pained as if his niceness was starting to hurt.

            "Prove it. I don't be-weave you." Her eyes watered. "Prove that you think I'm pretty."

            Uncertain for a moment, Death reached under his hood and unclasped an odd looking necklace from his neck, holding it out in front of the little girl. "Here," he said, placing it in her hands. "You can keep this, cupcake. But only for a little while. It's very important to me, it protects me from many things. I have another one. You can keep this one."

            Faith's eyes went wide as she stared down at the necklace. "It's sparkly! I can add it to my collection!"

            "Huh?" Death peered at the necklace. "Like, girly, sparkly? Or manly, sparkly? Because I kind of wore that thing all the time..."

            "Re-poo-tat-tion? You're giving me your re-poo-tat-tion necklace because I'm pretty?"

            "It's actually a pendant--"

            "Are you giving me this necklace because I'm a pretty princess?" she interrupted hopefully

            "No, I'm giving you the necklace because you're the Pretty Princess. The one and only," Death corrected. "It's far too pretty for me, it belongs to you." He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable again. "Listen, can you, uh...can you tell me how to get this stuff out of my hair when we're done with this makeup stuff? These rainbow clips, although extremely fashionable and pretty, are really starting to cramp my style and they're pinching my scalp. You really got them in my hair good..."

            Little Faith ceased her crying all together as if she had never been upset to begin with. "Only if  I can paint your fingernails and toenails and we can watch the Little Mermaid three times." She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and grabbed his big leather gloved hand with both of her tiny ones. "Please?" she pleaded, eyes watery again. "And you have to play house with me and Mr. Wiggles," she quickly added, sniffing once.

            Death slumped significantly. "Fine," he growled out.

            "FAITH!"

            I woke up gasping for air. David's brown eyes were above me, and he was shaking me on the ground. "What the heck just happened?" he demanded, completely confused. "You blacked out for a good minute or so. Did you have a panic attack? Are you seeing double? What's my name?"

            "No, I..." I started to laugh, getting up off the floor.

            David kept his hands on me, as if he was worried I was going to fall. "Why are you laughing?"

             "It's just funny how things finally work out the way you want them to sometimes."

            * * *

            Patience came with a precision.

            And patience preceded victory.

            It was no longer in in Death's nature to be patient. What he wanted, he usually got within a short span of time. His nature liked that sort of short and effortless victory. It meant he was dominant. Undefeatable. But that got tiresome after a while. Everything came too easy to a rare creature like Death, and there wasn't a sense of normalcy or pleasure that followed the lack of simplicity in his life.

            So he liked to make things difficult. Complicated. A game.

            A challenge.

            Five days. He had five days.

            Technically, less than five days.

            All he had to do was get her to sign that freaking contract.

            She made things complicated.

            Death stood straight -- feet shoulder-width apart, weight even on both legs. He breathed roughly, chest heaving up and down, beads of sweat slipping into his unwavering eyes as he waited for the next round. His hands tightened and loosened around the bow, tongue sliding over his upper lip and scrapping against his facial hair.

            I hate that bitch.

            The speaker in the pitch-black room flicked on with a tiny click. "Round forty. Miscellaneous," Fiona announced over the speakers.

            Holograms of all sorts of species of demons came at him at all directions.

            Death exploded into perfect form, aiming his bow perpendicular to each target. In slow motion, one could see how flawlessly his thick arms went straight with each attack, forming a T, and how he touched his face lightly and effortlessly with his drawing hand. Release. Reload. Release. Reload.

            Fire exploded from the floor.

            He tuck and rolled onto a high platform, moving through the obstacle with inhuman speed,  nailing a demon with six legs and no eyes in mid-air. The creature burst out into pixels with a wet noise. The result of killing these things was extremely graphic and as real as it could get. Death loved that.

            Release. Reload.

            Panels opened up from the walls, releasing bullets and daggers at Death's head. He dodged them, hitting most with the metal part of his bow, while continuing to shoot at the enemies.

            Death pulled back his bow one last time, knowing it was his last arrow.

            Bull's-eye.

            Hologram demons poured into the arena.

            Death multiplied himself, appearing at six different parts of the arena as the attacks got more difficult, annihilating each and every enemy in a blink of an eye. Each replication switched to a different weapon, finding different straps of weapons on their bodies and flicked their wrists out at all directions, nailing holograms in the heart and in the skull with whatever they had.

            One of his replications flipped backwards off the third floor of the arena, slicing a hologram's throat. Another switched to throwing stars and got a hologram in the eye, spurting computerized gore all over himself. Another replication took out a gun and blew a hologram's brain's out.

            Death took out a hand axe and conquered the rest round with a fiery passion, carving chunks out of holograms as he flew past them, hissing like an animal.

            Abruptly, in the middle of a kill, the round ended and the lights went on.

             Death cringed from the brightness and his replications all burst into a black mist, absorbing back into him. "You're supposed to warn me when you do that, Fiona," he growled at the room, rubbing his sensitive eyes as they burned.

            "My apologies, my lord."

            Squinting his eyes and trying to read the score board, his nostrils flared. "What's my damn score? It's too bright."

            A hologram of a woman dressed in a immaculate business suit flickered in front of Death. "Six-hundred and sixty-seven, my lord." Her voice was kind, pleasant and soft, reminding Death of a girl he had admittedly been imagining whenever one of his arrows had pierced a hologram in the heart. Freaking Faith to the Williams. "Congratulations, you have beaten Lucifer's high score."

            Fiona disappeared.

            "Yes! YES! YES! SUCK IT, OLD MAN!" Death made an inappropriate gesture to the nearest camera in the room. In his excitement, Death punched three holes right into the nearest wall. "God damn it, not again," he muttered, quickly taking off his shirt and sticking it in the gaping hole, leaning a hand casually on the wall and giving his best "I'm the Sexiest Piece of Meat You've Ever Seen" smile at the camera. Lucifer hated when Death ruined his property because Death did it way too often.

            If Death could win over a room full of nuns with his physique he could win over a robot easily, right? "Let's pretend.... that didn't happen, Fiona." What Horn Man doesn't know, won't hurt him... "It's called a secret, and you may or may not be programmed to understand that--"

            "Round forty-one of fifty. Hand-to-hand combat with Remons," Fiona replied. "No replicating this time, my lord, or automatic disqualification."

            "What?!" Furious, Death bolted across the room and tried the door. It was locked. "Fifty rounds? I completed my forty rounds for the day! This is bullshit!" He smacked his  palm against the door for emphasis.

            "According to Lord Lucifer, if Lord Death whines or put a hole in the wall before, during, or after provisional training in the training area, there will be fifty levels of combat instead of forty."

            Death temper detonated. "Why is he cracking down on me so hard? I'm not a fucking teenager! I'm two-thousand years old! He's not my father!" Death blew up the room with curses, then finally, when he realized he was talking to a robot that was programmed to do whatever Lucifer said, he uttered sourly, "Give me the next nine rounds, Fiona. No breaks. Actually make it nineteen rounds of REMONS, since Crippled King Lucifer and His Dictating D*ck is obviously so eager to watch me run around shirtless!"

            "Round forty-one of sixty rounds, my lord."

            "I was kidding! It was a joke! Ha-ha!"

            The lights shut off.

            Amongst the eerie silence, Death angrily slung his bow back over his shoulder and reluctantly took a dagger out of his boot. As irritated as he was, he couldn't lose a round of training.

            He never lost.

            A dark shadow shuffled around the room.

             Falling into a low crouch, raising his nose up in the air, Death scented his surroundings.

            Hand-to-hand combat with Remons was worse than dropping one's freshly made ice-cream cone onto the dirty pavement.

            One? There was only one regenerating demon?

            He let out a low hiss, catching a scent he didn't quite like. This level would not have holograms, that was for sure. Remons. Regenerating Demons. This was a level recently designed for Death's provisional training by all the nerds in The Underworld. It was the Remonic level, or the "Let's Throw Some Regenerating Demons into an Arena with Death and Eat Popcorn While He Gets Pissed Off That He Can't Kill Anything" level, that was an absolute pain in Death's ass.

            Just like a blue-eyed bimbo that Death unfortunately knew...

             These were not just any regenerating demons.

            They were regenerating demons specifically designed to kick Death's ass. They went into Death's head and shape-shifted into anything they wanted based on his memories and his thoughts. He was surprised they hadn't taken the form of his father yet. That would have been difficult.

            This one was going to be a piece of cake. He had only scented one Remon in the arena and by its shadow, the Remon had chosen a smaller form. It wouldn't choose another form until the round was over. It was a female form and small in physique. Easy, he thought.

            Death moved swiftly and inaudibly through the darkness, hoping over obstacles, eating up the distance with his sinewy legs. This Remon was fast. A challenge. He couldn't help but like that. Death climbed up walls, following his prey close behind, clinging to the ceiling with his bare hands and heaving his big body over railings and obstructions.

             Death went an alternate route, cutting the creature off. He dropped down in front of it on all fours. "Stop running from me, female," he hissed.

            The creature looked up at him with  two familiar, large and innocent blue eyes.

            Death stood up straight, extremely taken aback. He had not expected this at all. "Well played," he said, after acknowledging the creature's nudity a little longer than he intended. 

            The Remon had taken the form of Faith Williams.

            A naked form.

            But it wasn't really her, and there was something awful about that awareness for Death, both mentally, and especially physically. He had no idea where to put his hands on this thing,  and he was already starting to think a lot more with his--well, you know, a lot more than he was thinking with his mind.

            Oh, would this hilarious from a different perspective, watching The Lust Machine, The Lady Killer, The Bed Strangler, get his ass completely obliterated by a naked woman. Not just any naked woman. A human. A girl. A female!

            In the midst of choosing a way to kill the damn thing properly without touching it inappropriately or going easy on it, the Remon had taken full advantage of The Angel of Death and punched the shit out of him.

            Death lost his first provisional training round that night.

            Needless to say, he was pissed.

            Exiting the arena, Death stormed into the replay room to find a bunch of demons that had been watching him train. They were in hysterics, replaying the moment on a huge monitor where the Remon, as Faith Williams, had hook punched Death many times in the face, then drop kicked his massive body across the room like a freaking tiny ass jelly bean.

            It was the moment Death had lost his fang.

            And his evil pride.

            Death opened his mouth to let out a monstrous roar at the demons sniggering at the monitor, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

            Death whirled around, expression monstrous.

            There was nobody behind him.

            "My lord," a small voice squeaked.

            Death tipped his head down at Glenn. Fists clenching, he loomed over the small demon in a blazing rage of sweaty muscles and destroyed masculine pride. His vision was going a little bit red, he was so enraged.

            He lost.

            To a shape shifter who had taken the form of her.

            He never lost.

            Never.

           Glenn flung himself backwards as Death came towards him, pressing himself loudly against the wall. The other demons in the replay room went dead quiet, watching them. "What the hell do you want, Glenn?"

              "It--it-it's the girl," Glenn trembled out. His tongue had grown back completely a day before, but he wasn't allowed to speak unless Death demanded an answer from him.

            A muscle twitched in Death's face. He slowly came towards Glenn, watching the demon turn so pale he was almost see through."What about the girl? I thought you escorted her out of the building, Glenn. She's in Sophus' watch now." He gripped the young demon by the throat. "Isn't she?"

            Glenn slowly shook his head. "According to Sophus, Faith ran into a friend on the way out of the D & S Towers and they went into a deli to eat. She then rushed out a few minutes later and interfered with a collection that just happened to be taking place outside of the deli--"

            "How in the hell did she interfere with a soul collection?" Death sounded almost astounded. He knew she would begin to see the true form of supernatural creatures, but not something as powerful as a Reaper. Not when a Reaper is undetectable to the human or demonic eye... "She's a human. She's a little human!"

            "I--I--I am not sure how it happened, my lord, and n--n--neither is Sophus," Glenn trembled out, choosing his words wisely. "But she definitely saw him. He was the closest one to the collection, so he was going to do it himself..."

            Death stilled, trying with all of his might to keep his temper under control and not take out his rage on the puny demon in front of him. "And then what happened once Faith saw him?" he said a bit softer and tentatively, unsure if he wanted to know the rest. "Did she see his identity?"

            "He's not sure. Sophus said Faith got angry, and with an impossible amount of strength for a human, she shoved him in front of a car. He c--c--couldn't recover quick enough from the blow. She's--she's gone, my lord. She got away." Glenn pushed his glasses up his nose. "She's off his radar."

            "She's off his radar?" Death radiated so much heat at that very moment, that Glenn's glasses began to fog up. "Tell me that you're kidding," he said slowly, eyes wide and wild. "Tell me she left the building and went home unharmed, and everything is fine."

            "I'm s--s--sorry, my lord, I'm so s--s--sorry..." Glenn shielded his face with my hands. "Please, my lord, I did everything I could--"

            Death knocked Glenn's clipboard to the ground. "OUT OF MY WAY!"

            The small demon threw himself to the side as the Grim Reaper charged out the room.

            Death was fuming, knocking things over, shoving demons passing by into the wall as he stormed down the hallway. "EVERYONE IN MY VICINITY, MAKE ME LOOK PRESENTABLE, OR DIE!" Death smashed open a door with his foot and started to take off his sweatpants, surrounded by demons rushing around to get his clothes on.

            Faith was off Sophus' radar. Death's most trusted Reaper had managed to lose his most valuable possession.

            Off Sophus' radar. How?

            Horror paralyzed Death as he came to the worst conclusion imaginable.

            His father must have gotten to her.

            The Raven Demon.

* * *

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*does robot, disappearing into mist*