//------------------------------//
// Interlude 1: Setting Records Straight 
// Story: Death's Captain 
// by Im a B O X 
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… And as quickly as he was deconstructed, he was reassembled in a new different place, the likes of this kind of teleportation still giving him an odd sensation that made his nonexistent stomach churn in uncomfortable pain. Something he never got used nor could he see himself ever getting used to.

“W-what the… –” in between his attempts to try to regain his composition, heavy panting ensured that as he tried to recover from the surprise he’d still have to deal with the toll he took from the teleportation. Still, that didn’t deter his resolve, with a burning flame clearly having alit within him as he tried to process what could have happened.

Quickly, he surveyed his surroundings and a deduction, and it was all the Captain needed to figure out where he was. In front of a small fountain with what seemed like the purest water anyone had seen, he only saw it a few times but had grown to associate it with one particular being. And boy did his realization and arrival immediately sparked a bigger flame, as he realized where he was, his foul mood has yet to subside as he let it all out in a berating speech in a challenge. 

“Still an empty void I see!” He bellowed, his voice echoing back but was still unable to convey just how pissed he was as he waited in earnest to see his boss show face. No doubt, he could feel his employer’s strong presence, and he knew he'd eventually have to show face, the embodiment of death itself, expecting an appearance of grandiose magnitudes. 
But before he could start hammering on the nitty-gritty of his challenging remarks, his employer quickly answered his challenging call. It was a dark mist that rolled in at first, and it slowly accumulated into a single embodiment, the very being of death right in front of him, the Grim Reaper, who had a cartoonish grin pasted across his skull, something that only further infuriated the Captain.

“You know, you can’t keep pulling my cords like that…” the Captain said, keeping things frank between them, with his boss's annoyance clearly felt by his boss.

“Ah… but how can one find a passion and mastery of his craft without enduring its pain?” The benevolent being retorted. Challenging the claims of his subordinate whilst still having that jovial expression plastered across.

Despite looking directly at the hooded figure of the Grim Reaper, both beings stood in stark contrast to one another, especially their ways of handling death. Their history with each other has more than a few bumps down the line.

The Grim Reaper, with his scythe and simple ragged hood, demanded nothing less than an uneasy mist that ensured his signature apathetic-ish feel, a cold embodiment of the inevitable that only leaked an uneasy presence, something that screamed DEATH in its own subverted way. And with the much more let-loose approach in his ways, he is only pursuing the same job as life, which was to distribute the fates of mortals. With the additional job of guiding most into the afterlife, his presence demanded uneasiness and mistrust. 

Whereas the Captain on the other hand would lead the couriers and collectors of Death, with a pistol holstered and a cutlass at the ready, he was pristine and thorough in his appearance, and orderly and thorough with most of his endeavors and the like, the golden embodiment of his position as a captain, a leader. A hands-on approach to keeping an orderly timetable to deliver many souls to the Grim Reaper to ferry into the afterlife.

“What’s with the wide grin?” The Captain begrudgingly asked.
“Oh it’s nothing,” the tone of his boss being one of playful dismissiveness, “I simply enjoyed the stories I've heard, and I simply had to discuss it with. On the first two nonetheless.” 
The Grim Reaper's playful dismissiveness only served to further dig into the Captain's infuriation. He was courteous enough to notice as he chose not to follow up his remark and remained silent, awaiting what his faithful Captain would have to say.
 
“I always despised your tests.”  He said, being very frank about it, and both could tell that it wasn’t an amusing matter to ponder on. “With a burning passion no less.”

A sigh left the Grim Reaper, the simple facts of the matter still being a hard pill to swallow for most, including himself. “Everyone wishes to be ignorant, my good Captain. Conscience is powerful, but at the end of the day, the truth of the matter is that we run on a timetable.” 

There was something that clicked inside the Captain's head as he heard that, something he found… insulting. “DON’T YOU DARE LECTURE ME LIKE YOU KNOW JACK SHIT ABOUT TIME!” He exclaimed, in his anger, he backed his words with actions as he drew out his pistol and quickly had the barrel's end pointed at the Grim Reaper's skull, he held his boss in contempt at that moment.

Of course, his motion of threat wasn’t met with empty remarks, as the blade of a scythe came to find its place by his neck, ready to swing at a moment’s notice, courtesy of the Grim Reaper, who wasn’t too keen in letting this moment devolve into another one of their brutal brawls. “Then I'm sure that Mercer and Pierre had recently informed you of what had transpired between the dealings, yes?”

“Then pray that I am able to listen to reason this time.” The Captain retorted, still adamant in his resolve. “I am growing ever more delusional each moment I see you standing. The mere thought of even discussing it is repulsive from what I’ve heard.”

“Then I propose a mutual moment of respite for the both of us, I tell you what you need to know about the dealings and what the recent postings are, does that sound ok?”

The Captain thought about it, maybe a moment of respite is indeed needed. Letting off on the trigger, he nodded to the Grim Reaper as he lowered his pistol, which was mirrored by the scythe’s blade being lowered away from his neck. 

“But make it quick,” he said, “from what I’ve heard, the Saints and Swines had a heated argument that turned south.”

Smiling at the fact that his Captain could see to reason, the Grim Reaper wasted no time in explaining what he knew, conjuring up a chair for the both of them to seat on whilst they discussed the ensuing topic. “Well, the long and short of that is, yes. There was a brawl that ensued, I had to change back into this ragged hood just to save my expensive suit from damage.”

Sitting down on the chair provided, the Captain’s thoughts wandered to one particular ensemble he knew his boss showed him. “You mean that suit you saved just for the occasion with Morgan and Marston?”

“That’s the one,” he confirmed, relishing the superb quality of a one-of-a-kind suit, “but back to the point. The argument started because there was another electoral debate held on whether or not we should expand the business and… some other arising issues with former species.”

“And the final say?” The Captain asked, genuinely curious as he was yet to be informed of the happenings of this particular debate.

“They haven’t decided on the final verdict and decided to postpone the damn debate, which got the Houses to act up, which eventually led up the brawl started to brew and leak over between the Saints and Swines. We had to get Mr. Morningstar and Joshua to break up the brawl, of course, that was easier said than done. I personally think we should just stick to the original plan, you know, still have the technical leeway and freedom allotted to us on the original contracts and whatnot.”

“Can’t say my word on the matter, now can I?” the Captain said, “Didn’t even get invited to the damn event, so how could I have known or relate to such a thing? Even then, I’m just a means rather other than an end, amiright?”

Giving the Captain a dismissive way, reached into what seemed to be an inner pocket in his robe. “And it’s a damn shame you never got to listen to the debate itself, the number of references they’ve made to your race and their history during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were more than what I’d have expected from the bastard.” Finally reaching what he was looking for in his robe, he lifted out a book and waved it for the Captain to take. “AND YET, despite having such a convolutedly diverse set of Houses and adjudicators… well, to say it would have been a great treat to see your reaction when you hear the number of history books they poured out of their asses about Europe just to prove a point would be an understatement.” 

Shrugging the remark at first, the Captain gave his honest take on the matter. “Nah, I wouldn’t mind visiting the world where I grew up, but I’m past that point when I would obsess over it.” Taking the notebook, the Captain quickly skimmed through its pages, recognizing the writing as some old written text in Latin. 

He heeded it no mind, not bothering to translate it despite his fluency in the language. That is until he noticed the names with the timetable and expected dates for the Grim Reaper to ferry said souls, with each finished round trip of a soul having their name crossed out. Once he realized that, he began to pay close attention to the names that have yet to be crossed, skimming through most of the side notes, he still tried his best to memorize the things he thought were important. 

He recognized some names, with other names belonging to some still alive but are due to visit him, whilst he also recognized some former souls he judged. But amongst the seas of hundreds, if not thousands, of pages of this notebook, his eyes finally landed on one name, not the name of Twilight Sparkle nor the name of some great monarch or evil, but his own name. His name is still yet to be crossed, seemingly having been skipped over, but there wasn’t a timetable to pair it, much less a set date. 

All the while, the Grim Reaper remained silent to him reading his personal notebook. 
“What’s the meaning of this?” he uneasily asked the Grim Reaper.

“What else could be?” Asking a rhetorical question, “It’s a timetable, that’s what it is. And it shows the retirement days and times of different names and –”
“Bullshit, like you’re one to talk about time.” The Captain remarked, calling out his boss’s ethics and rhetorical question. “And you know it for a fact, you don’t and couldn’t even have nor find the time to ferry my fucking soul, to the point that I simply became too integral to your operation.”

“And you have served me faithfully since the day your death came and I offered you the position of –”

“So what?” He asked. “That was life, a good thousand years or so ago, I saw the rise and fall of Empires, the dreams and aspirations that were either lit or extinguished as nations remained or changed. From nations once so concerned with who-led-what into those that were concerned with who-had-what.” 

Shifting through the pages, the Captain’s eyes landed on one particular note about him in the notebook. “A- and yet despite the two lifetimes I had, I was unable to say my name in history, because I CHOSE NOT TO!”

The Grim Reaper was about to open his mouth and make a statement until he immediately backed out of it. Taken aback by the Captain's outburst as he thought about remaining silent and respecting the current predicament that was unfolding. Clearly, he had underestimated the Captain's intense emotions on the matter of his… debt, per se.

“And you think I’ll give up my position as your Captain, only to be left to obscurity? HELL NO! So long as I am the Captain of Death, so long as I am part of the House of Death, I am immortal, just like the rest of them, just like you, never to face judgment.” He was adamant about that.

Of course, the Grim Reaper took note and knew that if he decided now was the time he’d retire the good Captain, well, he could very much do so but would likely face… unforeseen consequences, the forefront of which would be creating a vengeful spirit against him. And on the contrary, if he waited on it for too long, he might not be able to bargain with the Captain again until the next world. He was in a tight spot, between the chances of being unable to bargain with the Captain in the future or guaranteeing himself a vengeful spirit, he weighed his options and where he'd take his chances.

Eventually reaching his conclusion, he yielded, trying to appeal to the Captain’s sense of... restrain, in a way. “And I have no intention of retiring you for that matter, for now. I just wanted to know if you’ve said your peace or if you are ready.”

“Do I look like I’m the type to give away my immortality when I'm ‘ready’ to ‘move forward’?” The Captain asked, extending his arms outward in order to make a point.

“Clearly not,” the Grim Reaper admitted, “but that is not the point we’re here to make, now is it? We’ve got a distinctive species we’re ferrying right about now, and no one else is going to do the job except us, yes?”

“So, what do you say?” Extending his skeleton hands for a handshake, the Grim Reaper expected the Captain to make amends for the moment, instead, he was clearly wrong in his assumption as the Captain chuckled and dismissively swatted the kind gesture away.
“Winning isn’t just simply about being on top, it's about staying on top.” He said, throwing the notebook at the floor between the two of them by the fountain side, out of disrespect than anything else. “The game is growing my friend, and soon, you might just find someone else to worry about.”

And with that, all discussions were over for the time being. The Captain walks away, slowly fading into another space and time away from the Grim Reaper’s domain.

“…” 

A short moment of silence, with the fountain being the only source of sound for him, unfortunate that the discussion with his Captain ended on a sour note, but it wasn’t anything new to him.

He was now alone, alone with only his thoughts and… another observer.
“It seems as though you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma,” a voice began, appearing from the other side of the fountain opposite where the Grim Reaper currently stood. “Hmm, but then again, omissions have their place .”

Formally well dressed, at first glance, the new being stood opposite where the Grim Reaper seemed to be, with a first glance appearance of that of a bureaucrat.

“The proposition of Reincarnation is out of the table,” the Reaper instinctively replied as he saw his observer, “twice it had been given to him, and twice did he take the opportunity for granted. As far as we should be concerned and in the know, he is a ticking time bomb that we could use. His third time will be his charm, not ours if such is the case.”

“Ah, and here is the reason as to why my Employers despised you, always there to oppose.” The being replied. “Despite the gift of reality-bending feats, you and the rest of our colleagues regulate yourselves as ‘The Order’, unlike the rest of us who roam free.”

A deep sigh from the Grim Reaper as he walked towards his notebook, looking by the side at the fountain water as he did so. There was no reflection in sight, and despite him being able to do it to show his reflection, he couldn’t.

“We are bound by the gifts that have come to define us, that identify us. Not honor, not money, but mostly in a sense of duty, and the good Captain is just one of those many pieces that are defined by their inability to define themselves. Being the first of many tends to make you a cut above the rest, isn’t that right, Gregory?”

The being scowled, between hearing their own name alone or the fact that the Grim Reaper was still being laid back despite the position he was in, it seemed as though the name drop was what did the tip. Between higher beings of different Houses or organizations, referring to someone using the names of their bygone lives is usually a sign of utmost disrespect, traditionally accompanied by an insult to how they lived their lives before becoming one of these higher beings. Rarely is it ever spoken, even when their names are said in reverence.
“Still, being a Saint does have its perks,” the being remarked, “a silver lining amongst others… positions.”

“and both know you’re anything but one. After all, you are more of a messenger, but not in the conventional way of name nor deeds.” 

“Which is why your siblings sent me,” and with only one remark, the entire mood changed from sour to foul for the Reaper. It was too early for him to deal with, especially with what had just happened with the Captain.

A reluctant scowl was made as he ran his skeletal hands over his skull. “Do I have time?”
“Afraid naught,” came the response. “You’ll have to meet them by the wayside again, it seems.”

“Fine, fine,” the Reaper yielded. “Tell them that if they ever mention Foundation, I'll immediately leave. I don’t want to bring up another headache on the stacks of my problems with the Saints and Swines debate last time and my good Captain. Other than that, tell them I’m going to be there at ten. If anything else happens, I'll be there a little after twelve at most.”

“Right away.” And with that, the messenger left the Reaper’s line of sight, disappearing in the process to deliver the message.

Now there was no denying it, the Reaper was running on borrowed time. He’ll have to make a move soon enough if he’d want to keep on the other’s good graces. And the Captain… well the Captain really was going to be the least of his worries, for now, that is.

Right now, however, it was time to set records straight between himself and his siblings.