Finally, another chapter of Reaper! There is nothing special about this one. It's just setting up for the next chapter. Sorry I basically Rick-rolled you. Still there is some interesting character stuff in this one, especially for James. Oh, and Reaper tells Ellie his name. That's important too. I guess stuff does actually happen. Go figure.
Sharing Stories
The Reaper was silent. He was trapped somewhere between crushing horror over the fact that he had forced this young woman to revisit such a painful moment from her past, and strong curiosity in regards to her story. He wanted her to elaborate, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to request an elaboration. So he just stood there, waiting, while Ellie fought back tears. With a sharp intake of breath, she sat up straight and looked straight ahead, determined.
“I figure you want to know more?”
“You don’t have to-.”
“Oh, come on, it’s okay,” Ellie cut the Reaper off, “it’s obvious already that you and I think the same. I’d want to know more, but I wouldn’t be so hesitant to ask. It proves that you’re a good guy. I relive this story practically every night. I don’t mind sharing it with you, if there’s a chance that telling you will drive this crusade forward.”
She looked up at Reaper. She tried her hardest to appear strong and unconcerned, but the Reaper could see the hesitance there. Still, he had no right to tell Ellie that she couldn’t recount her story if she wanted to. It wasn’t his place. Ellie was a strong enough person to decide her own limits. So rather than argue, the Reaper nodded, and Ellie, with a hollow half-smile, looked away from him, her eyes falling upon his suspect wall, of all things, and she began.
“I don’t even know how old I was anymore when it all started,” she said. “I was old enough that I was able to absorb how important my father’s words were, but not old enough to retain anything of their meaning. Looking back years later, I was able to piece together what happened. I remember that my dad suddenly got all excited. He and my mom were happy non-stop for weeks while they made arrangements for their expedition. The best I can figure looking back and applying common sense to the situation, my dad found evidence of some ruin or artifact that he’d been tracking, and he’d managed to get the backing he needed to dig, in Egypt.
“I remember his mentioning that he had the backing of the Egyptian government, provided that they retained any artifacts. I also remember that there was a man at the dig site. He was a friend of my dad’s, and a representative of an American university. I think the university helped sponsor the dig in exchange for shared credit, should anything be discovered, and he was there to represent their interests.
“Then that night came,” Ellie continued, choking up momentarily before she continued. “I don’t remember much. There was smoke. The rest of the camp was burning down. I was out playing near some rocks when it started. I remember my parents called me back to our tent. I hid under a table or a desk or something while they…”
She paused, took a deep breath, and then, with a wry smile, said, “Well, you get it. Anyway, afterward, I was returned to the States, maybe a week later, and sent to live with my grandmother. She was in poor health, and she had never gotten along well with my dad, and so she barely knew me, but she was my only family. She had money, and so she sent me to a boarding school. I learned all kinds of stuff. The school was gender progressive, and offered all kinds of athletics programs. Martial arts, fencing, archery. I took them all. It was there that I learned that I had a talent for computers and technology.
“So, a few years ago, when my grandmother died, I filed for emancipation and struck out on my own. I researched my parents and their deaths, and the details of the scene rushed back to me. I decided that I’d use the skills that I'd learned to find the person who killed them. I tracked him by searching for instances of injuries related to his M.O. The attacks weren’t always fatal, but they all shared a few details. Knife wounds, made by knives which couldn’t be identified, but resembled some kind of razor. The survivors could never identify the weapon, because if the saw it at all, it was only for a second. Different depths to the wounds, even though the victims swore that the assailant only carried one weapon. But this was only reactive. It never got me close enough to even catch a glimpse of him. The closest I ever came was today, and I was still too late.”
She paused, and the Reaper realized that her story was over. She looked up at Reaper, and frowned, “Yeah, I know, there really isn’t much to it. It isn’t all too helpful, either, or I’d have found this guy myself already. Still, a fresh perspective can’t hurt.”
Max thought for a second, and then wondered, “There isn’t anyone else who might know anything about this person?”
“It’s possible that another survivor from the dig might know something,” Ellie answered, standing up and stretching as she stepped across to the other side of the room and leaned back against the old table, “but if anyone else survived, it didn’t make it into any of the documentation, at least none that I’ve managed to uncover. And I certainly don’t remember anyone else making it out, but as we’ve already established, I don’t remember much about what happened aside from the most unhelpful details.”
“Ridiculous,” the Reaper said, a little more fiercely that he intended, “you remembered more than I think I would have.”
He paused, looking down, thoughtful. He’d had an idea, but he was hesitant to say it aloud. Ellie noticed. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s nothing,” Reaper replied. It was true that he respected Ellie’s right to make her own decisions, but this was going too far. It might work, but it would also put Ellie through unknown amounts of torment, torment which she simply didn’t deserve after all that she’d been through.
You’re being ridiculous, the Whisper spoke in the Reaper’s mind. Your plan could further your goals. You shouldn’t care whether or not it will bring pain to this girl. She isn’t your responsibility, and she’ll only bring you pain, anyway. Use your power on her-.
Quiet, Reaper snapped silently at the voice in his head, and the Whisper fell silent, though the Reaper could practically feel it seething in the back of his mind.
Ellie, however, wasn’t satisfied. “Tell me,” she insisted. “If you have an idea, even a bad one, I deserve to know. If it’s terrible, well then I’ll say so.”
Reaper hesitated, but only for a moment, because he knew that Ellie was right. So, with a deep breath, he met Ellie’s eyes and said, “Alright. I might have a way to recover your memories using my powers.”
Meanwhile, across the city, detectives Thompson and James continued their investigation. Their shift was coming to an end, but they still had time enough to accomplish something. Even Thompson was working hard, or at least it felt like he was. He hadn’t actually worked hard in long enough that he wasn’t sure, but either way it felt good, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Still, as he flipped through a stack of files peripherally related to the case, he took out his pocket flask and took a discreet sip. Only James, who was on his way over to once again join Thompson at his desk, noticed, and he purposefully ignored it.
He dropped down into the seat by Thompson’s desk, as had already become a pattern, and said, in a hesitant tone, “I had an idea, and I wanted to run it by you. I’ve been running that search through the police database for cases with a similar M.O. to the one in the alley. There are several which are similar, some of which were fatal, but nothing to this degree. I was thinking, we could also check in other databases online. News outlets and whatnot. Not just here, but overseas. But it would take time, and I’m not sure we have time.”
Thompson grumbled, “James, you’re grating my nerves. Get to the point.”
“Right,” the younger detective replied, “well, I wrote an algorithm that should be able to complete my search through the police database and check online for similar details all at once. The search will take all night, but I think it might pan out to something.”
“Yeah,” Thompson, “and what’s that?”
“I-I dunno,” James stammered. “If I did, I wouldn’t need to run the search.”
“Smartass,” Thompson replied, amused more than aggravated. “So what are you asking me, kid?”
“Well,” James continued, “I already ran my idea by the Captain, but he says he’ll defer to your judgment regarding whether or not this is necessary. So I’m asking permission I guess, but I know how you feel about technology.”
Thompson let out a thoughtful sigh, “Well, I guess, if that’s the case, you should run your program.”
“R-Really?” James wondered aloud, surprised that convincing Thompson had been so easy.
“Yeah,” Thompson relented, “I gotta admit, as much as I find computer stuff to be pretty pointless most of the time, your tech solutions have really come through so far. I’m mildly impressed. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but yeah, run your program. Worst case scenario it doesn’t work out, and I get to laugh at you a little bit.”
Now more reluctant than he had been a few moments ago, but still a little flattered, James made his way back to his own desk. It had no pictures on it, all of the space taken up by a keyboard and three monitors. James sat down, and he queued up the software which would drive the search. As with all of his coded creations, James was apprehensive, worried that this one would fail and he would be humiliated, but he was able to push that thought aside, because he had a mission.
James wasn’t very strong, and while he could shoot well enough at a shooting range, he didn’t bother carrying a gun in most situations, as he had proven himself to be the poorest of marksmen in the field. He knew basic self defense techniques, but he couldn’t execute them well in practice. Yet, despite all of this, James wanted more than anything to help people. He’d grown up reading comics full of characters like Batman and The Question, and other cool, tough as nails detectives able to go above and beyond the means of others to bring bad people to justice. He’d spent his formative years projecting himself onto those characters, and it had made him the person he was today. It was also why he believed in the Reaper and his crusade. The Reaper had already proven himself to be someone who could do things that the police couldn’t. Maybe his methods weren’t exactly police approved, but they were effective.
That’s why, as bad as things looked regarding the vigilante, James still couldn’t believe that he had committed the murder in the alley. He sought the truth of this incident not to prove the Reaper’s involvement, but to exonerate him of suspicion. Despite how unlikely it seemed, he still hoped that the department would find a way work with the Reaper. He couldn’t imagine all that the two parties would be able to accomplish together.
With these thoughts rolling around in his mind. James executed the program and sat back as the search began. His algorithm pulled information so quickly that he couldn’t follow it. Like so many other things, this was outside of James’ natural abilities. Technology, that was James’ greatest power, and it would be his contribution to justice in the world. Through his technology, he could do things which rivaled the actions of the heroes that he so admired. He really hoped that it wouldn’t be his technology which proved one of those heroes a villain.
For a few long seconds, Ellie was silent, as if bewildered. Then, finally, she looked at the Reaper quizzically and ask, “You can do what now?”
“Not can,” Reaper replied, rising to his feet and crossing his arms, “‘might be able to’. I don’t know if it’s possible. It wouldn’t be precise. Details would be skewed by your own emotions. There would be gaps-.”
“I don’t care,” Ellie demanded, her eyes flashing with possibilities, “if you can help me remember more about this guy, then do it. This might be just what we need.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” the Reaper countered, his tone careful and reserved. “Let me explain. My powers are all based around fear. My greatest power is to break into a person’s mind by creating an environment of fear there, by projecting their fears into their mind. From there those fears grow and fill up their consciousness, and I can inflict a deserving mental penalty upon them. The Experience of Death is the one I use most often, but the penalty can be pretty much anything.”
“I hear you inflict comas on your victims,” Ellie interjected. “That’s this penalty at work?”
Reaper nodded, and continued, “I learn people’s fears by looking into their minds, or, if that fails, meeting their eyes and asking them what they fear, and once the fear is projected into them, it awakens all of the victim’s other fears, and sometimes I can see them as they wash back into my mind over the mental link.”
“And?” Ellie wondered, wanting to hear the Reaper’s point.
“And,” he concluded, “a lot of times those fears have a quality to them that can only be memory. They are overblown remembrances of the most painful memories from the victim’s past, but the details that are present are incredibly sharp. So-.”
“So,” Ellie said, less excited now, her confident stance deflating before the Reaper’s eyes, “You think that, if you use this power on me, I’ll experience all of my fears and painful memories, including the night that my parents died. You think, if I do, maybe I’ll see something that will give us a lead.”
“It’s a possibility,” the Reaper replied, “but like I said, this is a bad idea. I’ve faced people who have gone crazy from their fears alone. It’s not worth the risk. We’ll find another way.”
Reaper was ready to put the issue to bed, so he was surprised when Ellie wasn’t, stepping right up to him, looking him in the eye, and saying, “Isn’t that my decision? It’s my life. Isn’t it my choice whether or not to take the risk? Or are you worried about causing me pain? Because I’ve seen a lot of pain. I’m intimately familiar with pain. I can stand a little more if it means a chance to end my crusade and move on with my life.”
She lowered her gaze, and the Reaper swore he saw another tear make the solitary journey down her cheek. Then, as quickly as the tear had appeared, she blinked it away and met the Reaper’s eyes again, as best she could with them shrouded beneath his hood. There was a pleading look to her now. “Please, Reaper, or whatever your name is, I don’t care. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I feel like I can trust you. So make good use of that trust, put our alliance to work, and help me remember.”
The Reaper was taken aback. Ellie trusted him? She was willing to face the horrors of his magic because she trusted him not to hurt her? He was less surprised by her strength and defiance than he was by this. Even his most recent allies had never trusted him so completely. He didn’t know what to say, so he said the first thing to pop into his head.
“Max,” he told her.
Ellie was taken aback, “What?”
“My name,” the Reaper told her, “is Max.”
He stepped away from Ellie, away from the table and the mattress, and into the most open part of the room. Ellie, stunned slightly by Max’s sudden candidness, turned to stand across from him, waiting.
“I don’t know exactly what will happen here,” Max said calmly, his crystal beginning to shimmer with amber light. “I’ve never had someone willingly let me use this power on them before. It might be easier on you because of it, but it could also be a lot worse. I’ll try to lend you as much strength as I can, but this is new territory for me. Brace yourself as best as you can, and try to focus on that night.”
Ellie nodded, and with a wry smile she said, “If we’re confessing names, you can call me El, by the way. I’m ready when you are, Max.”
Max nodded back at her, raised his hand, and smoke spouted from beneath his sleeve, surrounding El’s head and pouring into her eyes and ears and nose and mouth, seeping right into her brain.
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