Journey Through Darkness

Death No More

20 PT

Death sharpened his knives, the clang against the stone filling his silent chamber. His guns were already cleaned and closely inspected by deft and experienced fingers; his boots laced, his armor fastened, all that was left were the knives. If Death were being honest with himself, he would admit that the knives were perfectly serviceable and he was only stalling for time, but he had not been honest with himself for years and he wasn’t about to start now.

He had a schedule to keep, but he rather liked the quiet in his room, there were no screams here, no explosions, no fires. Only him and his knives, and his guns.

The first time they sent him to kill someone was five years ago, he was supposed to be getting his TARDIS license that week; he had studied for months. It wasn’t meant to be.

The war had begun a year before and everyone believed it would be over in little more than a month; it wasn’t over and it wasn’t going to be over any time soon.

With a title like Death, he should have seen it coming; before they feared him, they still feared him, but now they needed him. They needed his expertise, expertise he didn’t have, but apparently he didn’t need it because his name was Death. Sometimes he hated Time Lords.

-Shink- The knives were done, he couldn’t stall any longer, it was time to go and there were no more menial chores he had to accomplish and he was already late as it was. Death stood, sheathing the knives, holstering his guns, his face was blank of all emotion, eyes dark and cold. He wasn’t ready, he was never ready, but he was capable and he was always successful.

Death left his chambers, the sounds of war already filling his ears; he had a job to do, people to kill, and planets to burn.

---

“Stop!” – a voice broke through the silence, the knife coated in blood, the throat already slit. Bodies were littered around, some still smoldering – only Death was left standing among the carnage.  

“What have you done?” – it was that voice again, why wasn’t that voice silenced like the others? Death blinked, his eyes could see again.

The Doctor stood before his brother, little Sig was little no longer. He wore black armored clothes, guns holstered to his thighs, knives in his hands dripping with blood. The last time he had seen his little brother was when he had stood trial oh so long ago – so much and so little had changed since then.

Here Sig stood before him, bloodied and still; he was no longer Sig, only a monster created by this dreadful war. The Doctor’s hearts hurt at the sight of what used to be a kindly child, “How could you do this?”

Death looked up in his reverie, who was the Doctor to judge, all he ever did was for Gallifrey – he hated Gallifrey, but no one needed to know, even he barely acknowledged his feelings on the matter, if he did that it would lead to madness. “They were enemies of Gallifrey, so they must die.”

The Doctor shook his head in denial, no, his brother could not have become some mouthpiece of Time Lord propaganda, “They were people, not Daleks!”

-and Daleks aren’t?- Death ignored him, he had other assignments to get to, it was best not to think. If he started doing that he’d never be able to have the strength to get out of bed, let alone sleep.  

The Doctor watched as Death turned away, “What happened to you?” it came out more of a whisper, a question to the universe – what could turn sweet little Sig into a cold blooded killer.

Death stopped, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched with coiled emotions roiling beneath the surface. A low growl of a voice, rough from disuse, answered, “I was twenty-three when they first ordered me to kill, nothing more than a child, still am one – come to think of it. I never killed before that day, had no idea what I was doing – I got blood everywhere!” He turned toward the Doctor, dark eyes glistening in untold memories, he laughed, it was deranged and empty of humor, but he laughed anyway, “When I got back the first time, do you know what Mother and Father said? They told me ‘Good job son, we’re proud of you – go get cleaned up, dinner will be here when you’re done’” Death shook his head, his voice choked, “I was a child! I hadn’t even gotten my TARDIS license yet!”