Pick up

"Welcome to the family dinner with the highest hygiene rating since subsaway. My name is Kane and I am your host for this evening." Big smile, open arms and not afraid to shake a few hands. This place was all about that fuzzy warm welcome and Southern comfort foods. A seasonal menu that was a community farm project turn profit. Hide the vegetables in funny food shapes is the goal to fool all.

"Mighty good of you, Kane. We need a really big table. The extended family coming along soon." I give the empathize sigh in share and a warm shoulder pat.

"Its no worries. We got you covered." He nods well and I give my attention to lower to the children. Menus with crayons and the picture challenge explained. The best drawing or coloured in talent makes it to the wall of fame. Where generations of this dinner has plastered walls of decades of kids art. Most will never have names or dates however is the style of the child's idea and age of the paper that makes it a work of art to the owners.

"Which way to the rest room?" skinny stress and smells like cigarette factory. A off accent that make her more a city north chick. Her art nails and grim scowl at every surface around her.

"Around the corridor near your table. Please recall that this a no smoking zone inside or in front. We have a shelter out to the left for that. Complete with heat lamps for that chilly air to evade." She narrows on me in disgust and I picked up her box of cigs from the floor. They were from our her pocket, "I meant nothing rude. Just informing you of the policy. Its been more and more strict. But its hasn't stopped some of us to hide behind the dumpster." She stares into me longer and I give a nod of annoyance. She tuts to herself and walks back outside.

"To be fair, the owner was expecting you all. Big Jack was more then enthusiastic to host you fathers birthday party again. Marking the 90th." I am back with the husband but I gently guided a hand with each child to the table, "He has some extra ways if helping you celebrate." the private room set up for the event, "We hope you would like the decorative additions. Its nice to see them out." The Kids eyes widen with the play area and were there instantly, "I personally wiped down the play area for you. Can't be risking allergies when in a party. You all been a long ride as part of the dinners family. So we have this place with special menu, just for that." I take one from the side, "Big Jack will eventually come over to see you all. From what I hear, his got big news. You didn't hear this from me." The husband sighs in relief and settles down, "Drinks?" He nods.

"Orange juice for the kids. I will have a large sweet ice tea... actually jogs of tea and juice." I nod and wait for anything else, "Your new but you just like the family." I laugh in the complement.

"I am that werid black sheep among the rest." I play off the warning as a joke. Start up the process of order. I did also make sure the wife outside has her drink too. The secret orchestra of whats really going on.

Its more then a 90th birthday. No one but a hand full of the team staff, the wife and the owner knows. Its about reunion of Vietnam soldiers. Three officers of a squad plus their families are joining. The two other families are coming under the guise of the owners private invite to celebrate the bravey of thier fathers.

It's a cute and sweet build up as the whole restaurant has been reserved with this invite. The place has cameras documenting everything. A big part is about the owner also connecting to his lost family. Thanks to DNA ancestry kits and data bases... The owner will shake hands with his cousins twice removed.

The event is going to have some minor dramas before the shout out to speak the truth. More then that is the attraction of unseen spirits that makes this event harder. I came to work here... preventing the disturbing from being footaged. Help the dead forgot troop to have that squad photo. This is all with appease one set and prevent the inhuman set from ruining it for us all.

I kept up the fast service as it got more busy. We were all allowed to take a moment break as the owner made his speech about joining men of the past together and welcoming family members he never knew he had. Everyone and even the unseen spirits cheer. Everything was smooth. The together photos with ghost faces happened but it was the only supernatural thing to happen during the event. The veterans got the whole squad together as the unseen have manage to burn their names and faces to the restaurant front photo.

Clean up didn't take long and I got back all the hidden spirit poltist pouches I hide in the decorative jars. The extra tips I gave to the other staff in secret as being a USA waiter rely on tips to make up their wages.

I didn't need the extra money for anything, avoiding the system of law was why I got the job. I lied about my age and background to be here. I also knew to not stick around due to the nose of those with wiggly magic fingers always on this search for the king whom ran away. The pitiful small normal salary was enough for what needed to be saved for the next plane ticket.

"The trial week over, how did you find working here?" going through a typical work survey with a middle manage staff. She works back office and isn't all that family spirited like everyone else. Dark circles under eyes and the pale sickly look isn't all that well cover with three shades lighter conceal make up. Pretty for a lady but clearly isn't out for any love in either job or private. Haggard.

"I appreciated the work experience and felt welcomed by both coworkers and clients. Mix days of good and bad times. Last nights big veteran meet up had to be a highlight. Whereas the drunk guy on Saturday here to pick up his cheating wife was not something I use to handling." She wrote it all out and makes sure every word is as I said it, "But I will be moving on to finding a further place to settle. I haven't exactly found a new place since working here like I hoped. I have no means to get around quickly. And I will cause future trouble for you. You can't ignore my weirdness, it's driven a lot of my own family away." She looked up with being struck on the nail of why they were going to fire me and more truth I hide from them before this, "Despite it being me and the trouble that will come here chasing after me, I totally accept you firing me. I can pretend to be family all you like but I will always be the weird cousin no one talks of." I give her a hand shake and put the uniform down. I leave the back office and collected my things from the locker.

I give my last nod with owner whom. He glared insurances that I left. He must have thought I was pick pocketing but no one was reporting stolen money.

The last car I borrowed parked up front with the ice magic of key turning. There no place out here I would imagine stopping anywhere soon.

"Big Jack, you asked us all to make sure our tips were correct... And you're right about them being wrong. None of it was missing but instead... we have money we didn't account for." The staff all nod.

"All week too." A waiter from first shift added.

"I just fired the new kid for pick pocketing but your all telling me. His slipped his tips to everyone." He looks around and the started recalculating it. Office comes in and looks at how baffled everyone here is.

"Did you know that he was homeless and was aware of his strange behavior?" the whole room stares as office passed the reports and documents for my leave over. They felt bad in getting rid of a tough kid. Whom was now more a run away. They make there papers and check the missing persons database online. They do what little that is possible for them to do.

"If you looking for lost material , try Wyandotte Cave. It contains an expansive 9.2 miles of passageways, and it is in this labyrinthine, underground landscape that poeple looked for a crystal called aragonite. That was used for ceremonial pipes and necklaces – as many as 10,000 years ago." A soliders sitting at the bar with drinks glasses provided by the inky ghoul at the end. These ghost drinks weren't physical or material for the living to interact with.

Service staff pads through in and out these men constantly trading empty glasses with clean filled orders. The only staff making the drinks was currently shaking up a compicated cocktail order. Some city folks are hard to please out in the middle of no where.

"If you guys want anything else, you got to share back more interesting information." The pen float about writing on darkness.

"You got a up stiff lip about you. I heard from one your tea drinkers that you have tin mines from prehistory. Stuff that found its way to being roman lead pipes and amulets in Greenland. Bunkles from frozen ice men up north." For a spirit without any sort of human face left, torn bombshell burn jaw wiggling about mid air with a upper jaw connection. This soilder well travelled along front line forces.

A shame he died before war ended. Young... the whole squad must have been constipated before finishing college. It makes that political song really ring in your head. 19. The average age of the soldiers on front line. The gases used causing issues today in whomever was left alive from front orders. The horrors of war and what we are left to remember... and the details they kept to thier graves.

"I know about the United Kingdom and its wealth of tin, bronze and wool industries." The pen is lowered as the staff making drink froze in seeing it move. There a still spook, suspect of trying to rationalize the pens dancing. The spirited young soilder laughed and pull the living waiters sleeve as they held the tray of glasses stead. Both living look around for anything rational... spooked further into fearing strange goings on.

"If you truly want to spook the daylights. Knock a top shelf bottle behind their backs." Such childish antics of the dead.

"Times fly folks but I have hell to walk. No need to add more sins." The responsible folks leave at a death reapers reach of hands to their shoulders. Now they pester the grim reapers with mortal stupidity. The few whom lingered manage the last antic and jump at the next chance to evade demons capture. They are soon pulled by chains of hunter and of laws... grumbled by their mistakes. The pen is thrown as distraction for the two living folks to ignore the obvious sudden appearance of someone at the end section of the bar.

"The two of you look like your about to jump out of your skins." The mockery of a living person is fooled them enough, "The bottles liquids had caused it to fall like that. You see, when alcohol heats it turns into vaper and how it tilts has slowly tilted it off that shelf there. In other words, hot air rises... so don't put bottles in it." They jolted and soothed as the see a normal person, "I am shooting off now. You tell Big Jack thanks for the beer. It was a nice touch star gazing that night."

The inky figure stood and leaves faded into nothing as a corner that wasn't there was turned. The staff thought nothing of it with beleiving the person was just a random customer that knew the boss. In them reviewing CCTV with paranormal investigators. The horror of the tragic times was revealed. Anothers name to be remembered and not lost behind the old taped pictures plastering the family restaurant.

"This is Daytonas rock station. Did you know that an octopus has two hearts?" The gruff silky voice enthusiastically lipped.

"Is that like how graffie have black tongues?" squeaks in the intern Steve on his mic. The three radio hosts wahoo over the interruption and then stations mix tape of stock held quotes stung together flick the station to advertisement for Florida local business. A traffic update swoops in a quite breezy chatter.

The station talks itself like a cold beer and the six packs its way to a sound block of classic American rock. Announcing 37 years of 957 the hog is at a roll.

The window down a Wendy's frost is pass over. Service with a business smile, not quite the mc D milkshake sludge in UK. Such milkshake prides about in secondary schools tweens chatter is nothing to a real ice cream smoothie this American fast food chain provides.

The car parks up among a vast sea of others a shopping centre complex, it is the peak of all American call this place a 'Mall'. Its what the Sheffield Meadow centre was aiming in being. Although both are monster buildings as most intu shopping centres are. This Mall is a strictly shops and everything. Location of big build isn't located for convenience. Its a drive to only place unlike the UK insistent in having public walk ways through their mall areas. Also a difference is the way cultures treat it. Americans go here for a shopping experience for relaxation. British will just see it as another part of the city for more shops, always shopping for essentials or specialists shops for gift ideas.

And screw any idea of stereotyping Americans because no American is generalized enough as such. If you want to stereotype Americans, you need to specify what state you mean. No New jersey gal with a tough twang accent is not a red neck nas car geek like them Florida southerners.

"The Nasa Space centre is talking big plans to send a biologist to the international space centre... to get this! grow flowers and carrots." The radio hosts clatter with how quick that rock block ended to soon. Although... in looking to my now empty drink. I did that thing again.

"Dude, you got a lighter?" A burnt spirit of a traffic accident knocks at my window... lost and unaware of being dead. Some spirits are in such denial of dying, they walk away from Grim reapers to prolong this notion of arrogance.

"Why not go back the car you came from and light your cigarette with the corpse there?" The fool attempts to spit at the floor and turns back, "My condolences to dying in a drunken disaster." The spirit turns with the God of death, walking though cars... its sort of relying on a God to guide them out of lost manners then accepting thier death.

"Nah. Not you again." The grim reaper leans at the on the door but ignored the glass frame panel, "Why has none written you in yet?"

"Because am already in." I ingore the god spirit and get out the car. Wipe off finger prints. Took my trash and a little lost car note for someone to report someday. Nothing worth stealing on show and no key on the seat trick.

"Rude." This reaper is actually more female by look and tone then most grim reapers encounter so far.

"You know... actually. Which way was it I was going if that's if I am dead." She tuts with my attitude and gives exactly what I wanted from her. A God portal door way through to the curtains of undead. A higher ranked grim wouldn't invite without triple checks. Its the foolish like her whom allow demons to muck up domain of grim reapers and true death gods alike.

Every realm with a life and dead support soul system has a variation or several death gods. All shapes and all sizes. These soul collectors of corpses are all trained and law system within Death's domain. There is by logic a top of the creme being whom is the Lord of all decaying souls whom is named Death.

The embodiment of what it means to be death. This responsibility of being top true death is a formality. As like all gods, and as explained, a being with extra soul influences.

The poor lord looks up from the very tome of dead soul names, sighs with a hollowed pain in his mind. It would seem a very complicated process has just made a mess of the mythical sentient book. It flickered angerly, not allowing the lord of decay to authoritize a name spelling mistake.

"Crow, tell Anubis to stop the souls from walking for a while. It seems the tome is is having a mental breakdown over some British teens passing." The crow screeched with a broken sound and took a backwards trip away.

"Anubis is busy." Distortion when someone tears a a hole into the fabric of space pulls forwards a martinet creaking figure to peep through. The clawed hand slams on Death's fine yggdrasil branch desk, it scraps and left behind a small crow egg. The skinned clay face was both smiling and frowning. The more forwards it pulls into the room the less likely is stuck to a single expression or not. It froze, glitched with fragement of itself flung from form to the very sentient flickered book presented to deaths desk. Blood tears pour from the masks eye sockets, drilling into deaths face.

"Come to tell me that I am doing my job wrong, Ender." The broken souled muck of a figure settles in sitting on the very impossible lips edge of the tare through space to be where it is. Snickered with how well this room is being dusted and pleased with Tome's whistling flutter of pages. The free hand brings out a flask, and two suitable cups are placed. The handles directed two whom this flask of drink is being served to.

"No... You my old annoyance are doing your job. Its that of the souls we both work hard in clicking back together whom summoned me out of slumber. My shattered self is being." it tisked at notion, "collected back together. I would guess someone among many gods as screwed up with their job, a hunter of oath has royal screwed up thier job or that I am expecting to be reborn with my human host once more. In being sure that its not gods or hunters or demons clawing put the boundaries of reality... I need my young reaper counter part to please you sensibilities. My partner." Tea steam wafted in a fluffy dance in stale unchanged air, "Honey peach tea with tree bark and blueberry ice." Death took his drink as the broken one has, "Remind me... Which part of history are we repeating here?" Death would have choked on his frist sip of he had not recalled why this ender was so dangerous to begin with. The Harold whom fixes the cycle when it is broken and whom make last call of if your soul is finish playing reborn or not. Yet Death, a true to the universe will... sees and knows when things die. In looking at such a distorted shattered soul, death sees himself in dust time over before this fool finally writes itself into the end of time. Metaphor speaking... the gods of time were long dead before that possible chance. Death and Ender know souls have laws. Souls make order. These two cracker Jacks are puppets in soul games. It melts a mortal mind just flexing the infinite multiple ways time must break and clash to allow such nonsense.

"If you are picking up a syth, then you..." a claw stops death speaking and in a hollow mirror the broken one continues, "must know of the laws grim reapers take. Become dead and among the apprentices of many." Death dislike interruption. He at least acknowledges that drinking tea is a more peaceful option then being murdered thrice over by this laws breaker.

"go find the syth and leave as soon as possible. Clearly you not here to restart law and order."

"Then it would seem I have had some soul fragments already disrupt your peace. My peace of repetitions broken by improper hosts. I must ask forgiveness for thier foul cruelty. The humans that use my fragments as minor hosts are often souls whom are power hungry idiot with souls whom process world ending wishes over all of humanity." The mask snarls at the thoughts of broken caused by such genie wishing morons, "I will assume someone created a disruption of energy to allow the bend of elements."

"They call themselves 'Mages'." Death sighs, "I have had not pain in taking those names into the tomes. All but the current two hosts."

"Very amusing... because by laws. No matter how flexible and broken I am. I am still a single soul. My host human has to be nearly soulless. If there are two, it will mean the fragments trapped beside a full soul will eventually come to be in your hands... one way or another. Its of a soul promise that such a foolish soul is brought to lawful soul court and judged as a false ender. His head... likely brought to you on a silver platter."

Death chooses to ignore the madness of the Ender, but will remember this in time to come as a warning for will be.

The egg hatched and the baby youth is soon fed strips of meat, coos of soft touch with the ender speaking to the soul of all it needs to know. Death is unsure if this tea is drugged. God or host of the Lord of all dead; he cant ignore the wrong of this moment.

"The man is a madden fool whom keeps trying to take my soul and name as means to destroy laws of gods. He keeps being born decades before my real host is able to function. The court of hell chooses to be unhelpful. When he breaks styxs, we both know that God court will take over." The tea has long dried up and time has been flexed enough. The broken without word throw a pile of random literary to Death's side as the young fledgling took honour of being rightfully Deaths messager. By Kingdom of laws only understood by animal souls, it took bow with the ender. The distortion breaks and snaps... vacuum up all the foreign moisture and dust from out the office. Silence remains. The tome of dead souls at page placement of the next correction to be approved by death.

"My lord, a golem from the south maze vaults has came..."

"To report a stolen syth?" Death inks the feather pen at pause of wonderment of why it was refilled of ink when there had been no reports from the goddess of life creating souls again. He shook as he notes with the page placement... this wasn't what he was reading a moment before.

"The primordial lock over the tome chamber was sliced open from the inside. Its contents is missing."

That was the chamber that life and death as the first of few ever souls to exist had broken a book. Life, death and a few others had broken the book of souls in order to weave time and space to what is now. The pages that weren't useful were god sealed in a chamber, no god or soul for that matter can take such bits. In extra reassurance the seal was made of the off cast of the syths metal that such holders of the tomes must always have. That book is as universal known as the soul tome. The core leather binds. The books of Deaths tome and life's dairy are just chapter fragments of such universal book.

Death broken the pen he was holding. He took a sigh once more asin trying to understand why this disrupted manner of ender must be. He should have been accept. If the Ender is to act in boundaries of time and space, he must do so with the universes approval. The Ender and the syth whom judges are as souls deem it to be, the true keepers of the tome of souls. Not a god. Not a mortal. Not a mimick of what there is already. His not death nor life. The being is the embodiment of sense of nothingness after dying, as Death assumes from hearing it from souls before.

The pen in Deaths hands had not broke, as he assumed. The messager only just now walked in repeating the message of a golem from the vault reporting of the sealed tome of soul being busted from the inside out. The content missing.

"What of Undertakers in my domain?"

"Ugh..." The messager it preplex a second, as they were expecting him to ask something else. Death studies the pen he thought broken. In further study of things that were wrong, he was back to correcting the mistake in the tome before the time distortion interruption.

The adult crow coos with a paper in the beak. He feeds the brid in swapping for the note. He gave it a glance.

"Human host then... Get back to duty, grim apprentices." Death waved the messager out and pets the brid for a while. Swimming in thought and then flexed with corrections of the death tome.

"Whats with the host this time? Whomever this person is..." The pouring molten sculptures of shape strings into a woven fabric like silk, soon it was a single metal sheet press molded into a cat.

It sits glaring about the young teen with 2010 fashions. Even around young lads having a wire head phone twirled around the left ear. The twitch of the metal tail narrowing sight on seeing a string. In truth was listening to where music was softly playing from, a disruption of silence.

"This whom is my living half of my soul, the true one. None them sissy dark folks that want to conquer dust clouds. Nor is he anything of his mother side whom are so anti-change for the good of the people." The filmy skin layer of the teen clothes stretch in following a white clay oval. The voices of both the dark thing attached and the young lad was spoken at the same cadence.

"So... Then you off duty?" the twitch of the ear.

"Not you as well." the mask snarls and pulls off in a discord of other voices ranting angerly.

"From what I gathered, the duty that every mind has assumed I do isn't actually the truth." The morphing metal stood on all fours and jumped from the coffin stone, "But I also think those whom stolen the fragement missing... have created this misunderstanding."

"Wow, and you would have to be nearly soulless to be able to be this independent from... well..." It steps weightless across the kids should, watch the mask ranting, "Does it shut up?"

"I want guess that this is boring to it." The kid steps up to the stone tome seal, "So what is it and why is it... well improperly closed up." he look into the side, hand poke in and back out... bloody inks were there on his fingers then a mist of cloud. this cloud lifted and was snatched into the walls.

The area has been nothing more then a library of title less books. If there was, it was more like scratches into the leather binders. Some were brand new untouched books and the majority was tatty and worn. The blood ink had been guided by unseen force. Lifted up high, pulls a book from the shelf open. This book opens and fluttered, suspended in air. The mist was gone, the book was shelved.

"This tomb is the book of souls, or rather the book of all things. Souls nameless or not are universally recorded in this book. All soulless things are recorded in this book. All object types. Sentient or not. Planets. Galaxies. Realm. I could go on." The cat jumps on the lid, "He has never explained where or what the ink is. But this it the only place where gods of the other subsections can refill ink. This room is a neutral zone, all life and death come here for ink." The kid pulls a disgusted expression of maybe having enough of an idea of what the ink is. The cat tilts with interest.

"Well today is going to be different." The mask has interrupted itself and the two at the stone, "Best to lay down on the tomb. So you may heard them." The kid isn't sure about anything. So far blinding trusting this mask creature has been wrong feeling. This also felt very wrong.

"You are right to feel scared or even have a flighty feeling about doing this. The tome was always a section of us that has the content of insanity. But without it, we will both just do everyone else's expects.Think of this book like a trip to the therapists office. It smoothes emotions from doing something irreversible to the universe." That hasn't changed the bad feeling.

Laying to the cold surface was not the worst. It was that sudden moment of melting, as if the body was undone into slabs of connected meat and bones being tickled with the air around. All of moisture was absorbed and lost.