First Day of Grace

The gates to the dungeon deep inside the Vatican City opened with a rusty creak. The two Templars dragged their prisoner down deep into the confines of their most secret of areas. Their prisoner cackled like a madman as he said good bye to the light for what was supposed to be the last time. He rattled his chained up hands and legs as he pretended to be afraid. The Templars seemed mildly disturbed but tried everything to not show it. They dragged the prisoner down the hundreds of steps until they finally reached a straight hallway. “Oh come now brethren, at least pretend to play your part.” Reaper told them with a madman’s smile. “Would you kindly shut your mouth sir…” The right Templar said as he gripped Reaper’s left arm. “Who says kindly to a mad prisoner you milk drinker, if I was running this damned place you’d be executed on the spot!” Reaper exclaimed into the man’s ear. The Templar recoiled a bit in disgust before ignoring Reaper completely.

 “By the way, what are my charges? Am I a heretic, demon, witch, warlock; for there is a difference between those two, or am I just being unjustly tried?” Reaper asked his captors with a wild grin. Nobody answered him for a few minutes as they continued down the hall. “Well! Don’t make me start screaming again, I swear on YOUR God I will!” He exclaimed loudly, an echo sounded through the corridor. Reaper made a satisfied grin before staring down the man grabbing his right arm. “Hmmmmm!? Well, do I get a response!?” Reaper yelled at the man. “We are ordered to ignore you.” The Templar said simply. “Then why did the milk drinker talk? Perhaps because he is a milk drinker…” Reaper asked before thinking aloud to himself. “He is new to the Templar order, but I will make sure to tell the Bishop that he disobeyed orders.” The Templar answered. The young Templar cringed at the notion of being ratted out. Reaper leaned toward the youth after they made a turn down another corridor. “I’ll tell you what young man, how about I kill him before he tells Daddy on you? Would you like that?” Reaper whispered to the young Templar. The youth turned pale with fear, Reaper laughed loudly.

Before Reaper knew it, the two Templars carrying him opened a door and threw him through the doorway. Before Reaper hit the ground, two bulkier and stronger built Templars grabbed him and slammed him against a wall. Reaper grunted on the impact and got slightly dizzy; before he knew it he was strapped on to the wall with no way to move his hands or feet. “Well well, this is very uncomfortable.” Reaper said simply before someone carried a torch to his face. The torchlight took some getting used to, but when he was finally able to see; he saw a Bishop looking down on him. “Hello Death.” He said simply to Reaper, spitting out the last word like it was poison. “Hello, your holiness, or is the Pope only called that?” Reaper said with a smile, one of the Templars that pinned him to the wall punched him in the gut as punishment for talking. Reaper lost some breathe before looking back toward the Bishop. “You have plagued this land for far too long,” The Bishop started while unraveling a knife from a cloth. It was a knife that had a pale blade and a bone white hilt. In fact, Reaper noticed that it resembled human bone, and oddly enough had a golden border around the hilt and a sign of the cross. The Bishop continued, “It is about time that your reign and terror throughout this land came to an abrupt end.” The Bishop grasped the hilt with intent to kill. “So I declare in the name of the Pope and the God he serves that you, Grim Reaper of Death, be vanquished!”

The Bishop drove the blade into Reaper’s gut, blood seeping from the wound as he coughed. “Ouch” Reaper responded in normality. The Bishop looked stunned at his victim whom looked seemingly unphased. “Damn you holy kind and your furor. That hurt quite a bit you know? Of course, that sign of the cross didn’t do much, but slap that thing on a blade and you get something holy huh?” Reaper told him as the knife got pushed out of his gut while the wound regenerated at a frightening rate. The Bishop backed away, recovering from the shock he had. “How could you possibly survive that? What are you!?” The Bishop cried out.

“I am Death, you said it yourself.” Reaper answered as he rolled his neck to get slightly more comfortable. “That name answers all your questions.” He added before hearing an audible crack from his neck. Reaper gave a sigh of relief before looking back at the Bishop. He still looked surprised, if not a little stunned, by the fact that Reaper is still alive. “Don’t make that face, it makes you look pathetic. You got any other ways to try and kill me or are you done? If you are done, you should start making more plans, because I guarantee that all the ones you have thought of won’t work on me.” Reaper told him with a sigh of disappointment. One of the Templars punched him hard in the face, probably hoping that’d work. Reaper’s head hit the wall hard with a massive cracking sound, as if his neck snapped. Reaper's head slumped down and a little bit of blood tricked down his neck from an open wound. The Templars smiled as if victorious before Reaper rolled his neck again to try and crack it, the wound there already healed. “That hurt more than the knife, believe it or not.” Reaper said before a symphony of cracks sounded from his neck; relocating it in it's proper place. He made an audible sound of enjoyment at all the cracking before looking at the Bishop. “So, what now?” He asked, genuinely curious. The Bishop gathered the two Templars, whispering for one to go report to the Pope and the other to ask for other torture methods that might be available. After they left he looked at Reaper.

“You won’t be set free; we will just have to try something else.” The Bishop told him. Reaper smiled, “Oh good, I was hoping this would last longer than it did.” The Bishop walked over to Reaper grabbed his chin to look him dead in the eye. “We will see if you can last the punishments we will give you, as we won’t stop until you either break or die.” The Bishop told him, Reaper smiled in response. “We will see who dies in my time here, and we will see who breaks first. Will it be your weak willed men and the torturers, or will it actually be me?” The Bishop scowled at Reaper before letting him go and preparing to walk away. “One more thing Bishop, before you go, and this come from me as the Angel of Death and not as a madman.” Reaper told the Bishop before he opened the door. The Bishop turned to look at him from the corner of his eyes. “Here is something to ponder; I am not as evil as you think I am, quite the opposite actually. You see Death as evil, when it is the best thing to happen in nature.” Reaper told him with a strong voice. The Bishop didn’t respond before opening the door and walking out. “Think of me as God’s Hand!” Reaper added before the door closed behind the Bishop. And so started the first day of the yearlong torturing that Reaper would endure with a smile on his face and a cackle before grace.