Don't wear a plague mask for corona I ONC 2021

Chapter 1: Don't wear a plague mask for corona

"What do you mean I have to wear a mask?"

Kuolema had asked this question for the fifth time. Voicing it out, again and again, made his eyebrow twitch. Well, shit. Did he have to make his centennial surveillance report when humans dealt with some shit again? His last trip to Earth had been marred by something called flu. The one before by cholera. And during the one before that, he'd had to wear a mask.

Good thing he kept it as a souvenir. Might as well put it on.

-..   .  .-  -  ....

"No, I don't think it's a joke. It was perfectly fine last time."

Really. Kuolema should've known. If the surroundings changed so much – large, tall buildings mostly in glass, the technology that resembled magitech from home seen on every corner – it was to be expected that the culture would've as well. It seemed the old beak mask had been replaced by some greenish-blue cloth that went over the mouth and nose. Did these humans even think about the eyes? The old masks were much better in Kuolema's honest opinion. He didn't need the glasses.

He walked down a busy street, a new mask haphazardly strewn over his nose and jaw while he tried fixing the glasses to sit above it. When it seemed like a losing battle, he let the glasses askew and busied himself with planning the next step.

It wasn't like he had to plan. No. Usually, he would walk around the city, explore the countryside, observe the mortals in their natural habitat, and then summon a portal to another place and repeat the process.

However, he'd decided to investigate the question mark signal appearing periodically on the live-dead map. Someone seemed to be making fools out of the whole Death headquarters, leaving a trail of unknown mortality signal, affectionately termed glitch by his idiotic subordinates. If he didn't find the being responsible before he had to go back, heads would roll. He'd make sure of it.

He really was stupid. Now he was left with half the power he could take along because he'd needed to make a fast escape with that stunt he'd pulled. The power he couldn't regenerate as easily as in his dimension. And who could have known the old plague mask would spurt human guards into having a conniption? Or were they knights? Warriors? Nevermind.

Maybe he should've listened to Lilith when she tried to provide him with a report on the advances of the human race.

Oh, well. He could just open the written report on the magitech gadget, a small gray contraption that, Lilith had assured him, didn't differ from a human gadget called 'smartphone'. Reading the whole bloody report would be too much trouble and he had so little time. He already knew he was on an island and had gotten used to very odd and extremely tall buildings. Kuolema had a few different Earth currencies in his pouch but wasn't certain if those would be good enough here because he did recall one of the Reapers, Lairo, complaining how he'd had to change currency each time he got stationed in another country.

Because of the enchantment that helped him understand humans, he could talk to anyone. It was a convenient thing to have.

Asking the first person passing by about money, Kuolema acquired info on how to find the nearest 'Cash exchange' and gather some appropriate 'cash'. Humans really loved to coin new words. Some didn't even have a translation to his own language. Ah, he could still remember the trip two centuries ago when—

A god damn siren started blaring into his left ear where, coincidentally, a new magitech gadget, called headset, resided.

"Master, do you copy?" A voice spoke through this headset. The loudness of it in addition to the din in the background made Kuolema twitch bodily.

How the hell could he stop this thing shrieking into his ear? He tried scratching it out with his finger. Nope, didn't work. He tried concentrating a small power leakage through the finger and into the ear. The only thing he'd accomplished with that one had been a painful stab somewhere through his tissue.

"Master, do you hear me?"

"I can fucking hear you, you maggot!"

And at his roaring exclamation, all eyes turned toward Kuolema and the person on the other side of whatever fucked up connection spell groaned softly. It seemed he'd said that out loud.

He ignored the wary glances and somewhat fearful expressions on humans' faces and hurried into a tubular metallic construction that should by all the info he'd gathered be a form of transport, barely managing not to bump into scurrying humans.

The shrieking had finally subsided, now resembling almost a lulling sound in the background.

"Sorry, Master. The volume was too loud."

Kuolema noticed humans sitting on the yellow bench talked out loud when holding a smartphone gadget near their ear. Narrowing his eyes, he did the same.

"No, shit," he replied to whichever idiot was on the call duty.

"Um- officer Dearil of the Reaper corps on the line," the voice in his ear, obviously Dearil, whoever that sad fuck was, said. His head might roll after Kuolema came back. "Master, we seem to sense the glitch signal. It's not in the same place as before."

Kuolema frowned. "Why am I only now informed of this?"

"Um- It's a recent development. Happened at the last minute," the reaper answered.

"Good! Now I need to find it," Kuolema said then frowned again. "Are you going to call each time the signal appears or disappears?"

"Oh, no, Master. The melody signal flair should've activated. Maybe there's a problem with the network. I'll check--"

"You mean that awful blaring siren that almost made me deaf?"

"I'm sorry, Master! I lowered the volume."

Kuolema felt a fierce impulse to sigh but held it back. "I'll get back to you later," he said repeating the words some female had said before she took off on the previous stop. He should, for all intents and purposes, be discreet. He couldn't afford to use more of his power to escape.

The smartphone magitech gadget should have an online form of the live-dead map. Once he managed to find it - a small drawing of a map in the corner of the screen was highly conspicuous so he tapped on that - an interactive map opened.

Kuolema swore. The red dot with three question marks above lighted the area of the map. It said, Bergamo. He was in Singapore.

-..   .  .-  -  ....

Marco raised a hand in front of his face just to see blackish color spread all over it. One of the fingers was sure to fall off any moment now. Necrosis tends to do that to a mortal body.

He exhaled and a rattling sound left the lungs as well.

What rotten luck. The body he'd chosen was falling apart. And the crumb of power he was left with merely slowed down the inevitable. If only it wasn't as hot as it was here. The body had been left for far too long in the harsh sunny climate before being brought to the morgue. He should've known this would happen. Oh, well. One step at a time.

He gripped the ticket in his other hand firmly. The train was departing in ten minutes. Soon he would find himself a new, better body. He needed to. Although, he wasn't sure of the reason why as the haze settled deeply into his mind.

In a rare moment of cognizance, B – Marco, he was Marco at the moment – smiled thinking of that being chasing after him. It was probably the time for their games to begin.