Story, part two

Needless to say, this got a lot bigger a lot faster. I'm loving this story, and there's more than what I'm posting here. It'll be very segmented.


The collection began like usual, which is to say the imminent target was obvious. A gentle hum was coming from the scythe, today its normal bronze hue. The shaft shone in the stark light of the hospital. Mordus could never understand why such a sad place had to exist, where misery was put on show and the ill saw Death walk right past them on a daily basis—literally. Having died so long ago, however, Mordus couldn’t sympathize with those seeing Death himself. What an honor that would be, rather than a curse!
Seeing the Reaper, the woman lying on the bed with the oxygen mask keeping her alive widened her eyes. This was a usual reaction, and more often than not the soon-to-be-deceased thought Death himself had come to take them.
“Ma’am, I’m not Death. I just work for him.” Mordus had spoken this speech so many times he would make a mistake if he thought about what he was saying. “You’re about to undergo one of the rights all humans are blessed to have: the right to die. I know not what existence awaits you, for I am not a judge. I am merely a Reaper, the vehicle for the scythe I hold in my hands. I’ve heard that the sensation of death is nothing like what I felt, for I only felt cold mist around me, forming this robe I wear. You will feel utmost warmth, for my soul will be holding yours inside the scythe itself.” He had to work to control Thal’gryyk’s shuddering at this remark, as he usually did.
The woman mustered the strength of will to remove the oxygen and ask, “Why was it not sooner that this happened? Why was this mercy spared until now?”
“Take it up with Death if you so desire. Personally, I might feel thankful for this rest. I can tell, actually, that your general nature was a balance of good and evil, but predominantly good. This is the case for most of my clients. You have but moments left. Relax, for you’ll have a long ride before you’re home.”
At this her body’s tenseness released, partially of its own will and partially because of the ice that was always in Mordus’ tone of voice. Her breath began to slow, and Mordus took her hand, as he usually did with his clientele. It made the passage easier for them, less painless, to be guided so closely. Using only its will, Thal’gryyk’s blade stretched to its longest, and brushed against the forehead of the woman. As it touched, the color faded from her face, her eyes closed, and the warmth was sucked from the room. Releasing the hand of the body beside him, Mordus walked to the window the room had to offer. The view was of an interstate, with cars constantly flowing from point A to point B, mindless about the ever-nearing death of the drivers, the ever-nearing death of everything around them.
Death was something people learned to ignore, Mordus supposed. A subject of such a nature was apt to be pushed aside, so uncomfortable to talk about. He saw it as the opposite, as something good to talk about, for everyone was going to experience it and almost everyone had a fate beyond. Those who refused to believe in something past life faded, their existences truly ending at the end of their dream. Closing his eyes, Mordus felt around for another possible client. As often the case, there was nobody else in need of his services.
Inside the scythe were two souls besides that of Mordus himself. Balls of light, burning golden and charcoal, were all that existed of them in that phase. He wasn’t sure if they could hear the screaming, but he thought that his grip on them as he Collected saved them from most of that sound. He had learned much in the time he had been working, very little coming from the handbook he had received. Useful for the basics, but the personal level with which he met his clients cast many of the guidelines aside. As a result, he was a respected member of the Reapers, and an authority figure. He was, to many, Death’s right-hand-man. All this could be seen of him inside the Scythe, where his soul was laid open to be viewed by those he had taken.
The woman from the hospital seemed pleased, for the radiant golden glow pulsed with the hum of the Scythe that surrounded them. The other deceased member was a man about forty years of age who died in a construction accident. His pain was cut short by the arrival of Mordus and the Scythe. This man was “speaking” with the woman, soul-to-soul, and Mordus listened in since he had the time.
“The Reaping was like being put into a tub of ice water after being on fire. The chill of the grave—hah—wasn’t what I expected.”
“My taking was mercy, after long last. I was of no use to this world anymore.”
“I don’t feel like I need to introduce myself to you, as though we already met.”
“I doubt it, for you are younger than I.”
“Ma’am, I lived and died a life with not very many people around me. Well, very few I could call my friends. After this, you may be my first.”
Mordus stepped in about here, as usual. “Second, sir.”
“Why, you must be that man who took my soul from my body!”
“Yes, sir, I am the very one. And she is your second friend, for I am the first. I am one with the Scythe, as a reaper.”
“Wait a moment and let me think,” the woman said. “You said something about a scythe, but now it’s the Scythe?”
“Indeed. Before death, you would think it impossible enough as it is that I am here, and adding that the Scythe is sentient would have caused unnecessary issues. By having information given in pieces, comprehension is easier and a good result is achieved more quickly.”
“Who are you?”
“If you want the name of the body, it is Mordus. If you want the name of the Scythe, it is Thal’gryyk, or Darkness-Eating-Burning-Water. I am called the Bringer by some, the Sage by others, and occasionally I’m the second-in-command for Death himself, or whoever holds that office.”
The man interjected. “So there’s politics in the Afterlife?”
“There are a few things I’d like to correct here. Firstly, it is not the Afterlife, but the first chapter, for what you call ‘life’ was a prologue. Secondly, politics does exist, but the matter of the position of Death is disputed between God and Satan. They must come to a consensus, but the expiration of Death, or the retirement, usually means the second-in-command becomes Death him- or herself.”
“You’re the heir to Death?”
“As it stands, perhaps. If I choose to retire before the current Death, it’ll be irrelevant. However, the system is in place in such a way that none may claim the position while I am still employed by both God and Satan.”
The woman spoke. “You speak of many Reapers, underneath Death. Does this mean that all Reapers have a chance at becoming Death, which means that the Deities must come to a consensus about each Reaper?”
“Exactly correct. Now, I hope you understand that the businesslike manner I possess is something trained into me. Conversations exactly like this happen for me many times in each…day, would you call it? Time has blended together so finely that I sometimes lose track of what is what.”
“How long is this trip, as you said?”
“It matters not, for you will be in a state of rest for a small while. Sleep well, children, and may Eternity be your imagined dream.” With this, Mordus left the existence in Thal’gryyk and imagined the gates of Hell.