Life and Death (Book One) Chapter One

*Before you read, some background.

I started this a year ago when my father was dying. It is a story about a man who becomes Death and what he does after.  I only have 4 chapters written, but I'd like to get it out in October with Andrea Parsneau narrating.

It is a darker work, a la House of Dolls, Last Warrior and Zero Patient. No harem, but definitely adult situations. I'm making this post so people can comment. It may take me a while to get chapter two up. I have an intense editing schedule right now, but if you want to read more, comment and let me know. Of course, from chapter 2 onward, it goes to Patrons.

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Chapter One: The Day Death Came

Any day could have been Lucian Norwood’s last day on Earth.

Lucian simply didn’t care any longer.

Doctor’s visits, hospital visits, constantly being poked and prodded, a few scares, a ton of scars, a couple of bouts with depression, some time in a recovery ward—the doctor had given him two years to live, and it had now been two and a half.

At least Lucian could say that he was a fighter. He cringed thinking this, cringed at some of the people he’d encountered in the various hospitals he’d been in and out of.

There were a lot of fighters, but all fighters eventually went down.

Lucian had friends and family that loved him, and his brother, Connor, stopped by every other day. He was supposed to come over later that day to check on Lucian, to get some food, keep him company.

So there were people he could reach out to if he needed help, people thirty-four-year old Lucian could call upon if he was lonely.

Yet his family and friends weren’t on his mind as he played a game called Zero Enigma.  

He was thinking about looting.

Lucian had just slayed thirty enemy bandits. Headshots all around. Now the spoils of war were his.

And Lucian had just pulled up the world map to find another bandit camp when an old man dressed in robes appeared before him.

Lucian lived alone, in a long-forgotten neighborhood of Bridgeport, Connecticut. The streets were dangerous at night, and there had been multiple break-ins in his small neighborhood, gunshots, that sort of thing.

All this to say—Lucian was armed.

And he just so happened to be sitting next to his pistol.

“What the… ?” Lucian dropped his controller, now fixated on the robed man standing before him.

The old man’s eyes were sunk into his head, his hair long and gray. He wore dark robes, not quite black, and there was a red energy visible in the center of his chest. He didn’t have a weapon; his hands were calmly clasped behind his back.

To say that robed man had stared death in the face would be an understatement. The old man had seen men, women, and children fight back, some claw back from the brink only to die in the end.

And since the old man had taken his mantle three-hundred years ago, he’d seen people put up some pretty serious battles.

No one could kill the old man, nor could they kill countless versions of him scattered across the galaxy.

Well, no mortal could kill him.

Which was why the man smiled as Lucian aimed the pistol at him.

“Whoever the hell you are, you need to get the fuck out of my house,” Lucian said, his hand shaking. His heart could barely take this, he knew it, but if this was his last day on Earth, or if his last day was coming soon, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The want to survive was the only leverage Lucian had.

And he knew the robed man standing before him in a Halloween costume wouldn’t be able to do anything against a bullet, even if he were fast, even if he also had a gun behind his back.

“I’m serious,” he said, his finger trembling as he clicked the safety off. “This is your last chance.”

****

A black mist rocketed through Lucian’s living room as the robed man quickly drew a sword seemingly out of thin air.

While Lucian noticed the sword instantly, he also noticed that the look on the old man’s face had gone from calm to concerned.

The screeching continued as more mist filled Lucian’s living room.

Lucian couldn’t quite understand what was going on, but he could see that there was a human-like form to these clouds of mist.

The first one to solidify out of the mist was one of the most terrifying things Lucian had ever seen in his life.

The creature wore dark rags, the top of its face covered with a gauze-like bandana, blood seeping through. Only its mouth was visible under the rag, and with bloody marks over its eyes.

The skeletal monster’s long tongue fell out of its mouth.

Its pus-filled frog’s tongue was at odds with his human-like form, and as its jaw began to distend, jagged teeth popped out of its rotting skin.

And that was about the time Lucian change the trajectory of his pistol from the old man in the Halloween costume, to the entity that was morphing into a fucking demon.

The first bullet tore through the monstrocity’s bandaged skull.

Lucian’s heart contracted as the terrible being fell to the floor and landed at old man’s feet.

Another demon appeared, its form also taking shape from a black mist.

Panic rising in his chest, Lucian aimed his pistol at the next demon and blew his head off too, splattering the wall with blood.

Another came, and he did the same.

They were stupid creatures, that’s what he thought as he blew the head of a fourth one off. Another formed out of the mist and Lucian capped this one as well, all too aware that there was only one shot left.

The next blindfolded demon came from the kitchen, and even as Lucian’s heart threw in its flag, sparking a twinkling in his left arm, he still managed to blow the creature away, the demon screeching as the bullet tore through its neck.

The final demon came and the old man took care of this one, cutting his head off with a swift gesture, faster than Lucian had ever seen any human move.

Out of breath now, and barely able to stand in front of his couch, everything dimming around him, Lucian turned the pistol to the old man.

He clenched his heart with his other hand, his vision blurring as he aimed his pistol.

“One bullet left, Lucian Norwood,” the old man said as he lowered his blade.

Lucian was gasping for air now; he could feel every blood vessel in his body crying out in pain.

He swallowed hard, licked his lips, and even as he felt his heart giving way, he tried to steel himself, to stay strong, his gun still pointed at the man in the black robes.

“You saved me,” the old man said, his face now partially concealed by his long, gray hair. “And for that, I owe you your life.”

“I don’t know… I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but… Stay right where you are, don’t move a muscle! Don’t… Stay where you are!”

Lucian squeeze the trigger and the bullet passed right through the old man’s body.

“Enough, Lucian, you cannot kill what is already dead,” the man said with a wave of his hand. “As I said, I’ve had a change of heart, the first time in over three hundred years.”

“This can’t be real,” Lucian said as he lowered his weapon.

He started to sob; something at the back of his mind told him that this was indeed real, that he was dying, and that this was it.

And in a way, it was.

Another look at the man in  his dark robes and Lucian had a vision, a vision that he put words with a whisper, “Are you… Death?”

“I am, and I was about to take your life when those injuresouls came. Miraculous, as it was, you saved me.”

“Injuresouls?”

Death nodded slowly. “I will explain injuresouls later. Just know that they are an enemy to Deaths everywhere.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow. “Did you say, Deaths?”

The old man sheathed his sword. “There are countless Deaths out there, and I was just the one that was going to come for you. But yes, there’s more than one. Call us Grim Reapers, or any number of names that people have invented for us. My point is: there are hundreds of Deaths, thousands perhaps, and now I think it is time that you became one.”