5 V. | 'Beholden to thy grim task...'

Night arrived by the time Hector reached the hospital. He tried to air out his freshly sweat-soaked clothes as he entered the building.

Mallory's daughter was supposed to be in protective custody for the remainder of the night, and Garovel had initially wanted Hector to get some rest. But then the reaper heard some of the officers talking privately. Each of the four guards assigned to her expected Rofal's men to come for her by night's end, and only Officer Colt seemed to harbor any notion of standing in their way. And it hadn't taken the other three long to talk him down.

Having no need of further direction, Hector waited until the man at the reception desk wasn't looking and snuck past. He held his bag close at his side and tried not to make eye contact with any of the passing attendants.

Mallory had been taken to the rear wing of the hospital for surgery, and according to Garovel, his daughter sat in the waiting room. Hector peeked around the corner and saw the four officers standing at the other end of the hall.

'I see the room,' he thought. He took a seat out of the officers' sightline.

'Good. I'm with the daughter.'

'Learn anything new?'

'Her name is Melissa. A bit on the short side, looks a couple years older than you, brown hair, ponytail in a braid, green shirt with a cute dog on it, blue pants, white sneakers--'

'That--uh--that's a lot of information...'

'You may need to know what she looks like.'

'Uh... yeah, okay. Thanks. I meant more, um... about the mother or about Rofal, maybe...'

'The mother is not alive.'

'Oh...'

'The nurse asked Melissa about it. She said her mother died nine years ago. She didn't mention any other family.'

'Geez... and now this...'

'Yeah. Wait. Here comes the doctor. The surgery's over already?'

Hector held his breath.

'...They couldn't give him a blood transfusion in time. He's dead.'

He exhaled and shut his eyes.

'Melissa's a wreck.'

Hector ran a hand down his face. 'You were right.'

'I wish I wasn't.'

They waited. Hector shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The tension was suffocating. He poked his head around the corner every now and again, wondering what the officers were talking about. Then he saw one of them walking in his direction.

The man was mumbling under his breath as he turned the corner. "--morons..." He locked eyes with Hector, who immediately tried to look away, but to no avail. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here?"

"Uh--" When he met the man's eyes again, he was a bit surprised to see a very calm blue gaze, relaxed, or perhaps just confident. The pin on his uniform read 'COLT.' "I'm... just waiting for someone... Why?"

"Maybe you should go for a walk. Get some fresh air or something. It'll do you good."

Hector lowered his brow a little. "Thank you, but I'm fine..."

Colt leaned in. "I can't order you to leave. I don't have that kind of authority, and frankly, I'm a man who respects another man's right to go where he likes and do what he wants. But, kid. It's about to get real fucked up in here. And trust me when I say you're gonna wish you were somewhere else."

Hector only shrunk into his chair, pulling his bag to his chest and looking at the sterile floor.

"Shit, kid. It was a warning, not a threat." After a moment, Colt shrugged and started walking away. "Fine. Do what you want."

He watched Colt go, watched him talk with a pair of nurses and a doctor, watched them all scurry away not long after he left them alone.

Hector didn't have to wait much longer after that. He noticed the men as soon as they entered the intersecting hallway. He counted four, walking together, all wearing sunglasses at night and dark hats indoors. He donned his own mask and stood.

'They're here,' he said.

'As am I.' Garovel emerged from the wall and grabbed Hector's shoulder. Hector was starting to get used to the pain. 'Wait until we're a hundred percent sure it's them,' Garovel said. 'It'd be awkward if you attacked a dance troupe or something.'

Hector gave him a look.

'Hey, it's possible. Maybe one of their members broke his leg during a routine, and they came to visit him in the hospital. You don't know.'

He waited until they approached the group of officers. When the uniforms started to make way for them, that was good enough confirmation for Hector. He bounded down the hallway. They turned at the sound of his footsteps, but it was far too late for the leftmost thug. Hector barreled into him. The man's body punched through the thin wall, raining plaster into Melissa's room. She shrieked.

"The fuck?!" The thugs drew their weapons, which made the cops draw theirs, but Hector had already grabbed his second thug by the arm. He flung him into the third like a rag doll, and they both stayed down. Hector turned to the fourth, took a bullet in the chest, and punched the man so hard that he felt the guy's jaw break.

"Holy shit. Who the--" A gunshot cut the words short.

He spun around in time to see Colt gun two other officers down, the third already on the ground. All in the back of the head, before they even knew what happened.

Colt looked at him. "Hey, you're that kid, aren't you? What's with the mask?"

Hector was on him in a blink. He slapped the gun away and shoved him against the wall. "What are you doing?! Why did you kill them?!"

"What can I say? My boss is a family man." Colt squirmed under Hector's grip. "You know, you really should've listened--"

Hector felt the blade enter below his chin. Everything flashed and went dark.

This was a familiar feeling. Emptiness. A vague notion of being in a vacuum. No life, no breath, no light, nothing to sense or be conscious of.

And then he was back. He sat up, discovering he had been on the floor. He shook his head, blinking. "What happened...?"

'I'm sorry, Hector... I couldn't revive you fast enough...'

"Wh-what? I don't--"

'Colt stabbed you. The knife pierced your brain. You still need your brain. I had to resurrect you.'

He climbed to his feet. His mask had come off, but that wasn't his first concern. "Where'd he go?"

'I don't know. I couldn't follow him and revive you at the same time.'

"Dammit..." Then it dawned on him, a sudden horror. What Garovel had just said. About being sorry. "Oh no...!" He barged into Melissa's room.

She was on the floor, shot in the head.

Hector reeled back out of the room. His eyes were wide open, looking at everything around him, but the image of her was stuck there. He stumbled. Just breathing was difficult, as if the air itself was choking him. He squinted hard and gnashed his teeth.

'I'm sorry, Hector.'

"Fu--ck!" He clenched his fists so hard that they bled. "I was supposed to save her! I was supposed to save at least her! I can't--I don't--! H-how--?! I have strength! I don't get tired! I can't even be killed! And...! And you're telling me that's still not enough?! Wh-what more do--?! I just...! I don't...! Understand...!"

'We lacked something more important than all of those things.'

"What?!"

'Information,' said Garovel. 'If we'd known Colt worked for Rofal, we would have approached the situation differently. It was an act. He was testing the other officers' sense of duty when he brought up the topic of protecting Melissa. I failed to see through it...'

Hector's face broke in two. He started sobbing.

'I'm sorry...'

"S-stop," he cried. "It's not... it's not your fault..."

'It is, though. You rely on me for information. Please don't blame yourself, Hector. Please...'

He only wept harder.

It was quiet for a long time. No one came to check on them. Everyone who hadn't already left probably fled when they heard gunshots. Garovel said nothing, just let him cry. His bloody hands were warm, throbbing, and he thought he could feel something grainy in them, like dirt, but with his vision blurred, he couldn't tell what it was.

When the tears finally stopped, however, something else consumed his attention, something entirely unexpected. A second reaper appeared through the wall.

'Ah. Someone got here before me,' said the other reaper. He was different from Garovel. He spoke slower, more deliberately, and somehow, his soundless words just felt different. He appeared as a skeleton as well, but his bones were lankier, his face longer. 'Just as well. So many dead at once would have taken a while on my own.'

'My name is Garovel. What's yours?'

'Bohwanox. Pleasure to meet you. Who's the kid? The killer?'

'No. He's with me.'

'That would explain why he's staring at me.' Bohwanox paused and looked at the two of them again. 'Ah. Tried to have him stop it, did you?'

'Please, now isn't the time.'

'Four dead? Sure you didn't end up making things worse? How many would have died if you'd just let it be?'

'Stop talking,' said Garovel. 'You take two, and I'll take two.'

Bohwanox drifted over the three dead policemen. 'What about the morgue? That's what I usually come here for.'

'Ah. Right.' Garovel shook his head. 'I don't know. There's at least one more there.'

'Let's go there first, then. Allow these ones here the chance to go cold at least.'

'Very well.'

Bohwanox looked over them both again, perhaps considering saying more, then drifted off in silence.

'Hector,' Garovel said gently. 'I have to ferry these souls through the void, now. It's going to take me a while. I won't be back until tomorrow. You should rest.'

He stood up slowly. He stared at Garovel vacantly, face spattered with blood save where his tears had fallen.

'Come on. I'll take you home first. You can sleep all you want, my friend.'