Death's Hunt

Chapter 1

My powerful wings propelled me through the night air, my swarm of monsters blocking out the stars and moon. My clothes flapped in the wind as I sped towards a thick looming fog. I tucked in my wings and dove through the mist, its maw swallowing me whole. "Five, four, three, two, one..." I opened my eyes and unfurled my wings as they slowed my rapid descent, allowing me to safely land on the ground. As the flock came through behind me, I felt their collective mass enter my body, hiding until I need them once again.
My glowing red eyes scanned the area as I walked down the street. Actually, it wasn't as much a street as a path. Dirt and gravel moved under my thick boots, releasing a crackling noise as I did. After a few more minutes I arrived at my destination. Standing before me was a building. Its dilapidated exterior would have given off a foreboding feeling to any mortal being. A sign hanging above the doorway swung slightly in the wind, its indecipherable writing displaying a very faint blue hue. I started to walk toward the entrance when I heard a loud crash coming from inside. I took a few steps back, anticipating what was about to happen. Suddenly, the doors burst open as someone was thrown out of the building. As the figure got up, I heard a voice from inside yell out in Russian, "And if you ever come back, I will use your face as floor wax!" I simply stepped to the side as I let the humanoid run away, his tail between his legs.
As I looked back towards the doorway, I saw a hulking figure standing there. He stood at fifteen feet tall with huge half-man/half-bear arms and hands dangling on the side of his body. He wore a large black coat and pants both made of fur and sprouting from the top of his head was dark brown hair which led to an equally coloured beard. His steely grey eyes looked over to me before his tree-trunk legs carried his body towards me, shaking the ground with every footstep he took. Finally, he stood only a few feet away from me. We stared at each other for a few seconds before he extended his arms towards me. "Oh, no! Not again!" I thought to myself because I knew what was going to happen.
"Glad to see you have returned Kakrix," he said pulling me into a hug and, as usual, completely crushing my wings.
"Vlagor, let me go!" I hissed as I desperately tried to squeeze out of the bear-hands' embrace.
"My apologies, my friend, but you know I can get very excited," he said in his deep booming voice.
"Yes, and every time you do, you end up getting my wings all messed up," I grumbled as I opened my limbs to get rid of the uncomfortable cramping in them.
"You are much too serious. You must learn to have some fun."
"I don't do fun. I do not relax. I am Death. My job is never done."
"So, what... Everyone here is death. And look at me. I am very much having a fun time relaxing here."
"So, do you mind explaining to me why you threw someone out the doors?"
"Oh, you... eh... saw that..."
"You nearly threw him on me."
"So, what... he's tiny. Even if he did hit you, he would not have done anything to someone like you who stands seven feet tall."
"A four-foot-tall death getting thrown by a fifteen-foot-tall bruiser like yourself would generate enough force to knock me over. And furthermore, four feet might be tiny to you, but it isn't to me," I finished stating as I entered the bar.
This was where deaths of all shapes and sizes came to trade the souls they had collected for food and drinks. It's not like we needed sustenance, these nourishments were simply for pleasure's sake. But fun is not one of my priorities. In fact, every time I come in through these doors everyone keeps looking my way instead of averting their gaze as I would expect them to do considering my reputation. I've gotten used to it by now. Whenever someone attempts to talk about me, a simple glance in their direction immediately quiets them. And as usual, someone tried to say something. And of course, as soon as I turned my eyes toward them, they fell quieter than a graveyard. It was only when I finally sat at the counter that the tension dissipated.
I reached into one of my trench coat's pockets and pulled out my bag of souls. I slightly opened it and took a look inside. The glowing orbs' radiating light shone against my cold black skin.
"You here to get something willingly or am I gonna have to force you to get something again?" a slightly muffled voice asked in her usual Scottish accent.
I looked up to see a woman standing on the other side of the counter staring at me behind her wire glasses. She had very short raven-black hair, piercing green eyes and her skin had a sickly white colour to it. She wore a black rubber mask over her mouth and nose. Two pipes jutted out from either side, connecting her facial attire to the large black tank strapped to her back, the word CO2 written on it. She wore a brown leather vest over a yellowish-green shirt. I also knew that she always wore light brown pants with a thick belt holding them up, and as per usual, she had those big black gloves that human scientists sometimes use, the one noticeable difference was that hers were skin-tight, revealing her long pointed fingers which I always assumed ended with claws.
"Hello Anga," I said looking her in the eyes.
"You still haven't answer'd my question."
"As I've said many, many times Anga, I do not have time for pleasure."
"We'll take two of the usual," Vlagor interrupted.
I should have known that if Anga couldn't convince me, Vlagor would have just ordered for me. I shot a glare at the enormous death, my scarlet red eyes burning like fire coals. This was a stare no one ever managed to look at for more than a second. Just as I expected, even though he was still facing me, Vlagor's eyes diverted away from my own. I simply growled at him, knowing that trying to start an argument would be useless. Instead, I sat on my stool, and waited a few minutes, until Anga returned.
"Two spicy soul drinks, as usual. No lemon. And of course, for Vlagor, one of those tiny umbrellas he likes so much."
As my enormous colleague scarfed down the drink, glass and all, I passed my bag on the other side of the counter to Anga.
"Holy! What did you do to get so many souls?" she exclaimed while staggering under its shear weight, "And Vlagor for the millionth time, stop eating the glass!"
"I caused a bus to go flying off a bridge," I simply answered.
"Well, that explains the weight," she paused before laughing slightly. "I don't understand you Kakrix. You're probably one of the best deaths out there, and yet you refuse to use the souls you get for your own food."
"If I did do that, you wouldn't have enough souls to make food and drinks for all your customers."
"Well, I guess you're right. Still don't understand you."
"Sometimes I feel like no one understands me, even myself," I thought as I looked at the pristine liquid swirling in my glass. As I got ready to swallow it, rebirthing these souls in the process, a pair of hands covered my eyes.
"Guess who?" a feminine voice asked smoothly though I could hear laced through it the slightest hint of sarcasm.
"You've got to be kidding me! Why is it always her? Why does it always have to be her?"
My thoughts were interrupted when her voice spoke up again.
"It's me Kakrix... Sheri," she said pulling her hands away.
I refused to turn around because I knew what she wanted. "Leave me alone," I growled.
"Oh come on... Just turn around," she said placing a hand on my shoulder.
"I said leave me alone Sheri." This time I was really mad. I felt the glass in my hand begin to crack under the pressure.
"Come on... Just one little look."
I quickly drank all the souls before the glass broke under the strain of my clenching fist. "Listen to me very well. I don't want to have anything to do with you!"
"Well, maybe you just need a little bit of help," she whispered in my ear. She suddenly grabbed my stool and vigorously spun it around. I quickly closed my eyes refusing to look at her even for one second. "Humpf! You're no fun Kakrix."
"I don't do fun."
"Then why are you here may I ask?" she said as I felt a hand place itself on my knee. And then another on my arms, feet... basically anywhere she could get a hold. I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised since she did have eighteen arms.
"Sheri, for the last time, get... off... me..."
"I know you will have to open your eyes at some point and when you do, I'll be there waiting," she said in a tempting voice.
"Get your hands off my client!" Anga suddenly shouted.
"Oh! It's you," Sheri mumbled as I felt her gaze shift to Anga.
"Get out of my bar!" Anga roared.
"But we were just having a little bit of fun," Sheri replied trying her best to sound innocent.
"Kakrix sure doesn't look like he is having much fun."
"Maybe that's because he's stuck in this building with you."
I felt her multi-arm body shift to the counter.
"You better listen to me and listen to me very carefully Sheri. I know you're just trying to get Kakrix to go to your place. Like that you'll have the best death working for you as a soul-collector. But no amount of charm will work. Not on me. Not on him. It. won't. work."
Sheri had been Anga's biggest and only competitor for the last fifty years or so. Both had been trying their best to outdo each other in the soul rebirthing industry, if you could call preparing souls for consumption and rebirth an industry. Ever since Sheri opened her own place, she had been desperate to surpass Anga in any way possible, including getting me as a patron in order to have a near-constant supply of souls. And when I say desperate, I mean desperate. She had tried to bribe me with an endless amount of food and drink, trick me with reverse psychology, even tried stealing the souls of other deaths and give them to me. And considering the seductive tone she was using today my best guess was that she was now trying to seduce me into joining her. It was clear that she was scraping the bottom of the barrel as not only was this attempt pathetic but she should have known it wouldn't work since we absolutely hated each other.
"I don't see what Kakrix sees in your place," Sheri was now practically shouting. "I mean look at it, it's a pile of junk!"
"If it's such a pile of junk, answer me this: how come I get more customers than you?" Anga taunted.
"That's only because Kakrix has always come to your place. If the roles were reversed, I can assure you this place would be empty. You hear me? Empty. Empty. EMPTY!"
"Get out of my bar you multi-armed..."
"Woah! Woah! Ladies! Let's not go there," Vlagor exclaimed as I heard one of his dinner-plate-sized fists slam in between the two. "Now please. Ms. Sheri, I think we would all agree that it would be better if you would exit the building before punches start flying."
"Yah, why don't you go running back to your place?" Anga added.
"This isn't over Anga! And get your hand off me you stupid..."
But before she could finish that sentence, Vlagor had thrown her out the window and was once again yelling in Russian, "The only thing stupider than you is the fact that you are even a death!"
I finally opened my eyes and just barely saw Sheri crawl away on all her arms and hands before turning around to show her face. Long, golden locks rolled down her back as her eyes glared in disgust toward the building. Finally, she turned around and stampeded away like some kind of insect. Her face might have been beautiful, but everything beneath it told the world what she really was. I turned my head to see Anga with a look of satisfaction on her face.
"The death he threw out earlier called him something unpleasant, didn't he?" I asked.
"You know that's the only thing that will get him angry," Anga replied.
Vlagor might be a big old teddy bear most of the time, but if you insult him just once, you can be sure that he will throw you out the nearest opening. The stool creaked under Vlagor's weight as he sat back down next to me.
"Well now that that is taken cared of, I've been meaning to ask a favour of you two," Anga said as she giggled behind her mask.
"Oh no!" I thought to myself, "This can't be good."