> Death's Captain
>  by Im a B O X
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: De Void
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He waited in silence and anticipation. He had just finished his last batch of souls for the record, and the pleasantry had already finished. No reward, nothing of note to define his existence as a courier, of course, apart from being a subordinate of the Grim Reaper, but he hardly considered that defining.

His office, which really was just an oval space with a window that showed nothing else, was quite saddeningly growing to become a stale view. Despite the books and written documents he had drawn up, even took a shot at a novel of sorts, although it could compare to the past he had.

And what a glorious fucking past he had. His eyes wandered off to another specific side of his office, just beside the cabinet where he kept the rest of his prized possessions, hanging loosely on a coat rack was an admiral’s cap and an overcoat of red, his favorite attire in his old life. It didn’t just remind him of his time with the British, but also of his antics with the Swedish, French, Prussian, and even the Spanish commands.

Oh, boy, did he miss his time while he was alive, what a wild ride it was. He could still remember his time with the Company, the Franco-Spanish Armadas that he co-led, and even his time in exile in the Baltic. Oh, the spoils of war he got to keep, if memory served him right, inside the closet where some of the naval and army officers attires of Europe’s former and current powers. Of course, he had a favorite, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten about the memories, after all, he did consider himself to be sentimental when it comes to his possessions.

“…”

He was reminiscing again… which meant he still had a conscience. As much as he may try to repress or outright ignore some of these memories, they always resurface in one way or another. And every time he did that, he felt… empty afterward, like he was devoid of something integral within him. Yet he always found himself repeating and doing the same jig all over again, every time. 

It had grown to be soooo… mundane.

A stark contrast to his predecessor’s achievements, and an even larger contrast to what used to be his achievements.

Looking again at the red coat and cap that hang loosely from the coat rack, he finally noticed the little coat of arms of the Subordinates of Death at the table beside it, the organization still being referred to as the House of Death, the very coat of arms that had been the symbol of the organization. And under it, there was a written plaque that showed their motto:

“Vixi, sed perii, plura sperans.”

“To live, only to die for more…” Or something like that. Frankly, he wasn’t aboard the entire virtues thing that served as their motto.

But, he did know his oath to Death wasn’t one he could simply break, lest he’d wish to face the wrath of Fate and Life combined. Which quietly left him in a perplexed state, one he quite frankly abhorred. 

He was so restless, but he’d simply have to deal with it, follow the same guidelines nonetheless.

But a little spark of an idea came to his mind, as he finally began to think about his time as a living admiral… 

‘Why not a hands-on approach?’ he asked himself, slowly forming a grin as he realized something. ‘Nothing to lose so long as I do my job and keep to the lines…’

And so, he stood up from his chair, making his way to his red coat and admiral cap, some of the few things he got to bring with him into the job. Lazily, he had his skeletal fingers to try and feel the sensation of its fur, but to no avail. Of course, he felt nothing since he didn’t have the tactile sense he once had, but he still nonetheless loved it for its vibrant and outstanding color, even if it was a bit dull. And besides, he’d grown sentimental towards it, kind of hard not to when you don’t have much from your old life.

Taking a deep breath in, he lifted the coat off the rack and decided to wear it, finding out that it fitted him like a glove... like all those years ago. Taking the cap next, he looked for a mirror to look over himself and found that it still suited his figure, which again made him smile at being able to see himself. Quickly, he went over to the cabinet to find it still filled with the uniforms of countless countries, all in vibrant yet equally dull-ish shades of color, maybe he'd have them washed one of these days.

Closing the closet, he made his way to a mirror. And once there, looked over at it to see his own reflection in his complete uniform. Maybe he was delusional or maybe its something else entirely, but he swore he saw his living flesh through that mirror's reflection, with what seemed to be the sea at his back.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t sully in there forever, let alone on what used to be. There was simply more to being a courier than simply delivering, after all, presentation was just one part of presenting.

And another breath in, he decided that maybe he should take a walk outside, even if it was just a void, could do him some good, who knows? Maybe there might be a semblance of fresh air, can’t hurt to know.

And as he approached the door to the outside, he looked back once again at his oval office, taking in the moment of just how pristine it is, with countless files and books being in order should he need something at a moment’s notice.

Once again, his vision landed on the rack from where he was just a moment ago, and his vision now slowly drifted to the Coat of Arms of the House of Death nearby. The motto under the Coat of Arms is still there, to remind him of what it means to be a Subordinate of Death.

Another breath in, and what used to be his hesitation was turned into willpower as he opened the doors, and was greeted with… the pleasant view of the seaside, which just so happened to be by the wayside of a road that lead inland.

There wasn’t anything particular of course, apart from the clear skies and fresh air. One wouldn’t notice that it was the void’s illusions at work. But even then, he didn’t mind that what he saw was a fraud of sorts, in fact, he seemed to have found a sort of pleasantly from the view, knowing that the void reflected one’s subconscious. 

He sat down on the grass, looking as far as what he could see often view, of the horizon. Letting himself take the moment to fully appreciate it. Soon he’d have to go back to working again, and when he’s back, he’ll have a different in his way of handling this job. 

No more paperwork and staleness, no more empty voids within him. He’ll make it his mission to be something, to fill himself with anything else other than emptiness and apathy. His history and oath won’t stop him, won’t slow him down.

A new season awaited him, and despite clearly lingering… opinions about his situation, he believed he’d manage.

He’d make a difference, change, little by little if he must, that is what he swore to himself at that moment.
> Chapter 1: After the Storm Sets
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Storm King awoke in a quick flash, shooting up at a moment’s notice as he looked around his surrounding view. One moment he felt his body slowly freeze and turn to stone, with the last thing he felt being the vivid winds of his fall as he could only look up into the sky, his storm skies slowly disappearing to reveal the blue sky, the next thing he knew, he was encapsulated in… darkness, then, he just woke up. 

“Where am I?” He quietly asked, forgetting the anger he once had in his literal last moments before death, instead, he was washed over with confusion and dismay at what he thought to be his current predicament.

He looked around, having found himself in a vast, empty void, devoid of anything particular. That was until he saw two distant figures from the side of his peripheral vision, which made his entire head turn in their direction. It was a sight of sore eyes, as the two beings seemed to be approaching him, closing the distance between them at what seemed to be a quick pace.

Of course, with new faces in sight, and likely a new opportunity, he instinctively patted himself down as he stood up from his lying position, the age-old ways of greeting a new face that he had hardwired into the back of his mind as a habit subconsciously taking hold of his following actions. After all, he knew what a good PR and public image could do, it is a means to both securing or taking power, especially in the long game, and gain, in building an empire… but that thought still wasn’t enough to divert his attention away from the question he had since the moment he woke up, where was he exactly?

A question that made itself known by knocking at the back of his head, but he placed it at the side, he believed there was something much more important about to take hold. And soon enough, he was proven right on the guess that there would be something, as one of the two figures as mentioned earlier seemed to arrive in his vicinity earlier than the other.

From what the Storm King could tell, it was the skeleton of an ape, one that wore a cape that hid most of its bones and structure. With their defining garments, it was paired with a military cap reminiscent of the Golden Age of Sea, which hid most, but not all, of its skull. If he had to make a guess, he’d say it was death himself! Which… thinking about it, proved to instill an uneasy sense of fear within him. Still, he persevered nonetheless, keeping up appearances for his sake. 

A captain of a ship, maybe even an admiral, he presumed, based of course on the attire they wore. “And to whom is the delightfully well-dressed appearance for? And if you would be so kind, may I ask what you are?” His question was, at least how he believed it, to be delicately worded as extended his claw in a curious but somewhat condescending fashion for the new arrival.

“Not quite the new face,” the skeleton replied, looking, at least where his eyes would be if he had some, eye to eye with the Storm King, shaking his claws with his own bone hands. “Captain of Death’s Men, a courier for a courier, so to speak. A pleasure to finally meet you –”

“Storm King,” he intervened, having wanted to set the tone straight. He didn’t want an introduction not made by him, plus, he wouldn’t take any chances on hearing his own name come out of this figure, more out of a sense of uneasy mistrust, but also a semblance of shame from hearing his own true name spoken aloud.

Shrugging the remark aside, the Captain continued on nonetheless. “Well there isn’t much to tell from that, now is there?” 

Of course, his remark was ignored by the Storm King, who found something else of significance. Approaching from the side of his vision was who he thought to be his former lieutenant, Tempest Shadow. Merely seeing her face, sparked something deep inside him as if rage started to build up, memories of what used to be his life resourced in his head as his thought process seemed to be clouded with each passing moment. Of course, the Captain had a front-row seat to what was happening and quickly frowned at how quickly the Storm King’s attitude changed at the mere sight.

‘He really needs to keep a close leash on his emotions.’ The Captain silently remarked, making no attempt to change the subject as he forced himself to watch on the side, what was about to happen he hoped would be quick and simple.

Speaking of which, the Storm King’s growing rage seemed to boil itself to a higher point. Although it was rightfully his fault for manipulating that shard unicorn, it didn’t take away the simple fact that she got him killed, which was enough reason to harbor a sense of animosity, with it being more than personal and pure business in his mind. He was literally at the finish line, and she knocked him out off the podium.

It was a slow start at first as he tried to walk toward his former lieutenant, but as he took each step, he noticed that he didn’t seem to be getting any closer to her, despite her figure seemingly being a few meters of walking distance.

“What?” He asked, bewildered as he stopped his march. Looking around only to again see the well-dressed skeleton by his side and nothing else.

“She’s not here, she’s not dead,” the skeleton simply replied, “while you’re… well, you quite dead, literally died from being shattered into a million pieces, like glass. But then again, one can’t expect anyone to just survive such a fatal fall, a broken neck or a punctured lung could go a long way in sending you straight to me, or to the fortunate, my boss.”

What he said was mostly ignored by the Storm King, who did not relent as his mind worked overtime to process a plan for revenge, one that he wouldn’t necessarily get. 

And the Captain could see it, the face of a thinking monster. Yet he was giving himself a break, a much-needed opportunity to be a bit open-minded and to give this one a chance who knows, it might be for the better.

So the Captain decided to play a bit honest heart, after all, he had learned a thing or two from his old life about empires and such. “Tell you what, I’ll walk you through what could happen to you now, does that sound good?”

Waving dismissively, the Storm King didn’t bother to consult the Captain, as he slowly walked aimlessly in deep thought. Of course, this wasn’t exactly courteous, and a small frown befell the captain as he watched the dead king wonder.

“Why do they have to be the aimless type?” He muttered to himself, slowly following the Storm King like a shadow, although he trailed a bit farther back in his aimless wonder.

He was sure the void would eventually act up, and when it did, that’s when his real job would start. That, and the fact that since the void was devoid of anything particular told him that the king had his memories repressed, so he knew dark secrets lay dormant.

He knew which was he was going to need to hear in order to give the Storm King a good deal, but he also felt like he didn’t know what he should expect.

 



How long has it been? A good week? A month? A year or two? The skeletal Captain didn’t know, he’s been in the business of the afterlife for a long while, not as long as the Grim Reaper or the Bringer of Life, but long enough to have shepherded his fair share of souls from different universes or times. He had already heard it all, from the most harmless of confessions to the most heinous of crimes, and with each one he heard, he had rewarded each soul with a better deal in their afterlife, sometimes reincarnation…

But one thing always stood out when he did or was reminded of such a thing, and it was that he wasn’t able to confess his plight to the Grim Reaper and still he was forced into this position. In a sense, deep down, the Captain knew he was a rogue soul, a restless one given purpose.

‘Become my Courier and well-trusted Captain! And such, postpone your judgment with the debt that you owe dear Life!’ The exact words were mudded, but to him, that was what the Grim Reaper told him, a choice. To face his fate head-on and die with human conscience, or to run away and see where this ’opportunity’ took him?

However, he didn’t get to wander that far into the inner thoughts of his nonexistent brain, as he slowly realized the Storm King had stopped in his aimless travel in this void.

‘About time he stopped.’ He thought to himself, as he made a beeline to the side of this king.

“I know you’re there,” the Storm King announced, refusing to turn around and look at the Captain. “So why? Why is she always so close, yet always a step too far…?”

The Captain didn’t reply, as he gave the moment for the Storm King to reflect. “Have you ever considered the possibility that it is your mind playing tricks on you?” 

His question was initially met with a dismissive wave, but it was clear it had sown an apprehensive demeanor for the Storm King. And it didn’t take long for both beings to look at each other, eye to eye as if to challenge them. There was clearly a bigger picture being painted, one has to simply figure it out first.

“So what?” he asked in a defiant tone, seemingly hopeless at his pursuit of revenge. From what he could remember in this void, the moment he had set his sights on her, he ran, he walked, he crawled, tried to be sneaky or even brute force his way to strangle her. 

Anything he could think of to get his revenge on her, plain and simple as that. Yet, she always seemed out of reach no matter how close he seemed to have been to her. “I mean… You aren’t here to guide me to the afterlife, are you now, Tartarus, maybe you’re just a hallucination even, maybe?”

Looking around at the endless nonexistent void as he finished up what he realized, the skeleton tipped his hat to hide his skull. “I am neither dead in the traditional sense nor a captain by the same notion. And the void… well, it’s a reflection of your conscience, or as I should say it, your subconscious.”

Shaking his head as he gave “no” for an answer, the Storm King still wasn’t fully convinced as he waited for the Captain to spill the beans right there and then. 

Which elicited a sigh of disappointment from the Captain. “You know… you and all the other ‘villainous’ creatures that I’ve met really do deserve a break, hell, I feel some shame in having that semblance of pity for it.”

“And why is that? It’s not like a servant to the god of Death could do anything that’s resembling pity,” The Storm King said, the remark having offended the Captain. “And besides, I’m sure gods are above the material virtues of mortals, so what would you know?”

The Captain could only tip his hat to hide his growing rage. For him to be compared to a god, was insulting. Not in the traditional sense, of course, it was insulting in how he was implied to be omnipotent, which he wasn’t.

Nonetheless, he persevered in keeping his emotions in check. “And how about you?” He challenged, “you are nearly similar to all others, you knew victory was within your grasp… the ball was in your favor… of course, fate had other plans, and your gloating ego really does shine when looking back, now does it?”

And that single line was what made the dents in the Storm King’s facade of control finally pushed above its limits, and cracked in his most crucial moments. And to add insult to injury, the Captain decided to twist the knife, the simple fact, and truth of the matter…

“And even then! You insult yourself even when you had Canterlot under your rule. You really were just so adamant on that staff of yours, ay? An avoidable outcome that was borne out of the simple realization from a maimed unicorn to a simple phrase that you said, ‘I lied’... And where did that oversight lead you? Here to me. Not death, but it will be the case soon enough.”

The Storm King didn’t respond, he couldn’t, not when faced with the harsh reality of his final moments. He really was at the finish line, he had a navy that rivaled that of Equestria and had it beat, had an army of a loyal following, and a great PR campaign to boot! 

Heck, he could have even continued the ruse of manipulating Tempest with that broken horn of hers, he could have even driven her deeper into being a hardened lieutenant, a general even. All that, and maybe, just maybe, she would have forgotten about that horn of hers. 

A great asset, and if he didn’t have that, he could have likely pressured that purple princess into a favorable treaty, to at least get some semblance of security against the fabled Draconequus, a miracle he even managed to conquer most of Equestria without some divine intervention.

“Of course, like all things,” with a sigh of disappointment, the Captain was hesitant to drop the big truth. “I may not be omnipotent… but I do know plenty of things, and I know the blessing of the alicorn wasn’t meant to be discovered, now was it?”

And yet still, the Storm King did not respond, too afraid of what he might say “You had me killed, didn’t you? It was all a setup…”

Now that was interesting. And as much as it deviated from his question, it piqued his interest enough for him to care. “Why and what made you say that now?”

“T-the curse, it really did happen…” franticness started to creep into his voice, “t-they unleashed you… to keep their secrets, and to end what was supposed to be my reign.”

The Captain frowned, it didn’t quite fill him, and other than the fact that he was stalling his answer to his previous question, well, he won’t let it slide. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, “but either way, you’re going to spend the rest of eternity in unrest or should you decide to act, let the souls you’ve damned hear what they need to hear.” 

The options are clear and laid out for him, add to the fact that there was a clear implication that the Storm King would actually meet someone, it was clear he had to choose carefully between morals and an oath. Regardless, the Captain will fulfill his orders in the aftermath.

“W-what if it’s a ruse? W-what if it’s all a lie?” he asked, the quivering voice reflecting just how apprehensive and fearful the king was, could he keep his resolve in check and suppress the trembling he was experiencing under the pressure of facts?

The Captain didn’t need to know, nor did he care to know a simple fact. But, he was interested in how he would perceive an… opportunity. A brief stare down between the two communicated that unyielding fact, it was up to the Storm King to decide, and it was his due time.

“I ask again, either you are willing to say your peace, or spend the rest of eternity on the contrary.” And although he didn’t tell him aloud, the Captain did have some plans in store if the Storm King proved himself to him.

The moments of hesitation felt like an eternity for the Storm King and could have very well been the case. His heart pounded as he felt the telltale signs of fear begin to crop up. He was in deep thought, trying to figure out what choice would give him the better outcome.

“You know about my secret…” the Storm King accidentally muttered aloud, “t-this obsession with the Alicorn Race, d-divine intervention, a power that could be wielded, but was not supposed to be harnessed by anyone…”

The Captain frowned at what he heard. He was getting rusty, was he really that obvious? Well, subtleties weren’t his forte, but it would come as a surprise to him how the Storm King chose to approach him.

“I-if you give me a chance, please. Let me discover it,” he said in a near desperate tone, “I could figure it out, just give me time. All I need is time and I’ll right my wrongs! TARTARUS! I KNOW IT DECAYS, I just can’t prove it!”

The Captain tried his hardest to keep a straight fast, but it increasingly became harder as he realized just how deep the Storm King was in his endeavor of knowledge and conquest. “And if you abuse that opportunity?”

“But what if I won’t.” He simply retorted.

Don’t play cot, life is much more complicated than that, after all, “Isn’t life a test? Isn’t it a test about the behavior, the choices that beings alive, like what you used to, would make? If history and erratic behaviors are to go by, then I’d rather have you remain ignorant right here and now.”

The Storm King could only relent, he was backed into a corner. “B-but… then you’d know I’m not one to be left in the dark. I started something, and I intended to finish it! I was so close to figuring out the alicorn blessing and magic as a whole with it. Of course, I’d want to finish something this monumental! I can’t let all the dead go to waste! Especially those hippogriffs who caught wind of my studies and tried to stall it.”

“And…?” He asked, choosing to feign ignorance knowing full well where this conversation was about to go.

He looked at the Captain, and with a single breath, he steeled his resolve as he gave his final say. “I was… cursed for it, berated and called a liar for the truth of power that I knew. Everyone around told me to remain ignorant, to let myself be content with the simple fact of the unexplained nature of magic. And that’s when I realized, only I could do it, change the world with my knowledge, only I could do what everyone else can’t.”

The seemingly self-rightness tone was starting to drip into his tone, and the Captain didn’t like it one bit, but he still refrained from objecting, hoping that the Storm King could remain ignorant, if nothing else, at least show some form of interest in moving forward.

“So, I swore that I’d die doing something of note, of change, rather than let the world continue without my name. And the hippogriffs? I killed every last one of them because they knew they were a loose cannon, the realization, a problem that shouldn’t go unresolved. Yet… I was still killed in a selfless act of defiance before I could finally cement my…”

The Storm King could only contemplate, his face churned and turned as different emotions raced through his thought process. But before he could speak again, he looked towards the Captain, and dread was building up as he saw a frown befell the Captain with each passing moment, as the Captain himself spoke his next words with a hint of contempt. “You didn’t speak your peace with truth, your conscience isn’t clear. And you are stuck looking at the past trying to fix a fractured statue, instead of trying to move forward and building something new that encapsulates what it meant.”



“Then what do you want to hear?” he asked, pleading, near begging at the chance to give himself a bit more time to discover 

The Captain did not respond, only staring blankly back at him, letting the void present in his eyes sockets make the statement. “Decay…”

The Storm King could only remain silent, the gravity of what the Captain said initially having failed to deliver its grimness. Yet he did not relent, as past memories involuntarily began to resurface. With the most prominent of which are the faces of those he trusted.

“A dark secret that hides something darker in its shadow. You treaded on cursed knowledge, my friend. Unable to move past such fixation on forbidden knowledge that you have changed into something else than your original intention.”

“W-why?” he asked skeptically. “I answered your question!”

“The fact of the matter is… you confessed the fact that you are cursed with knowledge, repented for it you haven’t. Your instincts prevent you from admitting your fault in the sea of success you’ve had, be it right or wrong is irrelevant. And for that, for the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, and crimes as of yet to your world unspoken off, there is a place beyond Tartarus waiting for you… but, I am personally disappointed by one fact…”

A tense silence befell the both of them, with the Storm King being slow on the catch and the Captain having to spell it out for him.

 “That Lie of Omission…” And in front of the Captain of Death nonetheless! He may know more than most from the files that provided a fair bit of leeway for him to evaluate, but a lie that’s directed to him, he won’t tolerate. 

The sanctity of truth must be upheld, but, for one to lie even in death goes to show just how deplorable they are, unable to let go of lying in a space where it is fruitless, especially since the only facts present in this void are fates will.

The Storm King wasn’t quite quick on the last part, but when the Captain spat out what he meant, the realization slowly hit the Storm King but came in a dripping succession of dread. What was once the smile that he had at the thought of actually passing, slowly faded as the realization was called out loud…

So, his mind raced to do what he thought to be his second best option, which was to stall for time, and so he decided he might be able to pull the Captain’s heartstrings with a little play. “I- I… I spilled blood on that day! Killed too many for virtues I believed to be just and worthwhile. Y-you can’t just sentence me to fate bygone! You, the Captain of Death, are better than simply that! I am forever soaked in their blood and I knew it. So give me the chance I deserve… Just, let me prove it just once, just a short time alive.”

The captain could only look away, more out of dismissiveness rather than shame on what he was about to do. There were no changing minds as he could see through this ruse, this game of charade that the Storm King had unknowingly played. “You died as you lived, becoming a slave to the illusion of hearsay and knowledge.”

And with wide eyes, the Storm King was only given a few moments to realize his pleads fell to deaf ears, and before he had any chance of protesting further, the Captain pulled his gun and shot the King right there and then. With no time to process what had happened, the Storm King simply fell limp into this empty white void. Devoid of any blood or mess, the Captain could only inspect the clear and dry job he just performed.

“Pity…” he murmured to himself. “But, every man should have a secret carried with him to his gave…”

It wasn’t his problem now, it was beyond what he should care for that matter, it was all part of the jig of being part of the House of Death. Still, the secret of magic should remain a secret, and although the Storm King is beyond his problem now, he was one of the few he knew in recent memory to have been twisted by the illusion of knowledge. Then again, eating the forbidden fruit of knowledge was, in most cases, a guaranteed ticket straight to hell. As they say, don’t fly too close to the sun, less you want to fall.

In honesty, it had been a while since he last met someone who tried to challenge his wits, but the papers he had received as a screening for the Storm King did cover most of his background. The parts that weren’t… well, stated in the records were stricken in black and its contents weren’t something he was able to read, genuine curiosity having loomed over him the entire time. Then again, hundreds of thousands of days spent doing his job had practically molded a back wire protocol in his mind to keep himself in check. 

Although the somber mood that had followed after the Captain had quickly dispatched the King made him lonely. Like any other day at the job, he always felt lonely, he had to be alone when he did his job till the end. It was practically a requirement at that point, but damn did he feel like another breath of fresh air could do him some justice…

Maybe, just maybe, he could be doing himself a favor should he decide to visit some old memories.
> Chapter 2: An Opportunity Beyond Somber
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In what was at first this vast white empty void, it was quickly filled with the endless sight of what could have been the Crystal Empire, his empire. The lights that were generated by the lampposts, the tall city skyline, the bustling economic and social empire he dreamed of creating… all in the far-off view from his cliff edge, but in no real way could he ever approach nor enter it.

As much as he would gloat and proclaim his ambition as King Sombra, as much as he would try to expand his ego and goals of success, as much as he was rightfully feared for his intellect and ingenuity as both a military leader and an innovator in the field of magic, he was at heart, a somber soul, Somber Heart.

He was once a unicorn of the very same empire he grew up and loved, and eventually ‘led’. He was consumed by what he feared, the only thing he feared, the shadow of his own peers, to be left in obscurity. It was ironic because he himself would end up becoming consumed by what he had created, becoming a shadow of the persona made in response to his fear. After all, he did initially believe that to conquer fear, one has to become feared.

He was a King in name and an Emperor in everything else. He had built and turned the Crystal Kingdom into an Empire, what he was and could have been only becoming a distant thought, as that door of opportunity had already closed for him long ago.

The cold winds did nothing to help him in any way, only serving to remind him of what he had become. The distant city seemed to shout his name in his mind, calling out to him in echoes and the like. He longed to see his empire become the center of this world, and with it, his name forever etched in the annals of history! Well, he did get what he wanted… party that is.

But the moment he so longed for couldn’t last forever, and the sad reality of his situation finally came crashing down with the entrance of a new figure amidst the cold winter weather he was in.

“Quite the weather you’ve got going on,” the skeleton remarked, slowly and respectfully trying to make his way closer to the former Umbrum, “he who was once a unicorn, turned to himself only to become an Umbrum, and then once defeated, cast aside as Harmony had no intention to reform a soul that was consumed by its own volition. Quite the life you lived, albeit, misled one till the very end I suppose.”

Somber Heart didn’t reply, let alone give the skeleton a glance of recognition. Content with the edge view he was provided for at that moment.

“You still fear that reflection, don’t you?” The Captain asked, knowing what the answer of the unicorn deep down was. Hell, the papers he had read said as much, most of the things he knew came from these background checks of papers, one of the perks of being a Captain in the House of Death, he supposed.

And a twitch in Somber’s eye and a quick flick of his ear was all that needed to be said to tell his answer. So instead of trying to peer a wedge between them, he decided to steer the conversation to new. 

“It’s a nice view we got up here…" he remarked, admittedly being impressed by what the void projected, that being the reflection of one's subconscious, or in this case, in particular, it was Somber's own dreaming subconscious, what he truly longed for.

Of course, the remark elicited a heartwarming grin from Somber, who decided that he should take a jab at steering this conversation. "Now this is what I’d like my place of rest to be like. When I came here, I wasn't exactly expecting such a sugarcoating of dreams, but then I started to think… What if it was a twisted method of retribution? You know, since I died and all.”

“Ah well, that's not exactly true, but you could say that.” was all the Captain could say in reassurance.

“Whatever the case may be, the first time I came back, the Crystal Heart sent me to Limbo, or something similar to it. But… when those six entered the throne room in Canterlot with that Draconequus, well…”

“The chaotic bastard was better than what he lets on, isn’t he? A force of nature when it comes to acting, and with that convincing silver tongue of his, he’s better than what most could ever expect from him and give him credit for, perks of being the Spirit of Chaos, I guess.”

Somber, who was now somewhat taken aback by the fact that he'd have to wholeheartedly agree with the Captain on his remark of Discord, was slow in his response. “Ah, well yes… that and the fact that I guess the ‘Elements of Harmony’ was much more, erm… harsher.”

“Ahh…” now that was a point that the Captain didn’t quite expect, not so early on at least. “Yes… Well, we'd have to agree to disagree on some points eventually, what with you having tried to destroy the fundamental vassal of Harmony. But then again, you wouldn’t be here if retribution wasn’t the case, now would you? The Spirit of Harmony does have a tendency to radiate some sort of holy-ish presence when in use. Hell, I’d wager that for sure you felt that dark heart of yours change before you ended up here.”

A small smirk was shared between the two beings, as Somber realized that this skeleton probably knew more than he’d let on, a fool’s game at play it seems. 

“True, true.” He remarked.

That slight smirk was eventually replaced with a genuine grin from the skeleton as he realized something. “Well, that was certainly pleasant, clearly a better turnover from the last one I had handled.”

“Why? What happened?” Somber asked in curiosity, but he still refused to look at anything else except the Empire he dreamed of.

“He was… shall we say, dead set, a stranger with an admirable persistence that was… ill-placed, more or less. He wasn’t necessarily able, to be honest with what he wanted and had no real ambitions outside of having an obsession, so I had to send him to, um… the boss.” The Captain reluctantly explained, hoping that he didn’t reveal too much to dissuade the unicorn.

But when too looked to see any form of elicited or erratic reactions, he was surprised to find the unicorn in his calm demeanor.

“So it is true…” he mumbled to himself, which caught the ear of Somber, whose flick of the ear made him turn to look at the skeleton in a puzzled tone and look.

“What is?” he asked the skeleton, finally turning his head as he was unsure if he wanted to know the answer to his own question.

“That you… King Sombra –”

“Somber, Somber Heart, and I know you know it, so please use that.” He interjected, hoping to distance himself from the name he had given himself and widely known to be as. He was dead at that moment and believed it was better to breathe the fresh air of something different, even if it was as trivial as a name.

“Right, right,” the skeleton yielded, “that you, Somber Heart, feared nothing but how you would be remembered, either in shape or memory.”

A deep breath in and the King gave his take on what he had just heard. “I’m sure the Grim Reaper’s Captain wouldn’t mind indulging himself in listening in to my story, yes?”

Shrugging in approval, the skeleton gave him the go-ahead to speak. “Not like I have anything better to do, so go ahead, pique my interest, I look forward to it.”

Somber ignored the insult and persevered through with his story. “Then I guess I should tell you now, I became an Umbrum, not because of selfish intentions nor was it because of what I saw in that Heart.” The calm demeanor of the king did not falter, but it was clear from the gaze that he gave that he didn’t appreciate what he was going to share. “No, you see, I saw just how flawed the Crystal Kingdom had become at that point. Give or take, I was ridiculed for not only my name but also fate. And so, I did something to change that, I seek different forms of guidance, the heart was just the nail in the coffin if you ask me.”

“And why is that?”

A small, devilish grin befell Somber, as he relished the passing moment in his thoughts. “The heart was…. Shall we say, more of a tool than anything, a means rather than an end, so to speak? The way I see it, the Kingdom was being leashed, dragged down from ever achieving its full potential. I, on the other hoof, led and did what everyone knew had to be done but didn't have the guts nor heart to do so.”

He saw the Captain about to speak, but he already knew the question. “And no, I don't know where or when everything changed, but I do remember the time when I became king, and subsequently began my conquest. I ruled with fear to keep most in check, and I regret nothing. Trying to make history through my conquest or actions was one thing, it was another to make and unify an empire, and although I may have doomed myself to a place beyond that of Tartarus, I would have rather upheld a dozen fold deaths and still become a source of fear that united my kind rather than having lived through my life in fear and silence, in a monotonous world.” His gaze over the Captain had never ceased, his eyes turning into something dark as he tried to channel the fears of this being.

“Then you should know that in death, you could fear absolutely nothing and literally everything at the same time. So that gaze isn’t going to work on me, no matter how hard you try.” The Captain remarked, with Somber quickly realizing that his little scheme for control would bring nothing to fruition. “And besides, you lost, twice as a matter of fact.”

Quickly blinking to dissipate the dark form of magic he had tried to use on the Captain, he gave an honest remark. “Better having tried than never knowing, amirite? And besides, like most things, the sad fact was that it would have eventually ended, it was just a matter of time.”

His quick retort earned him a heartfelt chuckle from the Captain, who responded in kind. “That’s, well, true for the most part. So, are trying to gain my favor with that story of yours? Or are you playing on a different angle here?” Unbeknownst to Somber, the Captain himself was hoping for something more out of him, would be a shame to waste such ingenuity and intellectual pony after all, especially since he’d have plenty more souls to manage later on down the line.

Still unfazed, Somber answered the Captain’s question without a second thought. “In a way, one has to try and sway the odds in his favor, that includes taking chances, and while I was alive, consequences came and went. And I’m sure you know a thing or two about consequences, you’re a servant to death after all.”

Ignoring the jab that was made at his standing, the Captain found himself smiling in his own way, he was more than happy to give the unicorn a break, and he had to admit, he saw a bit of himself in that unicorn. Something about dreaming bigger really did resonate with him, even if what resulted was bloodshed, having been accustomed to… shall we say, unforeseen consequences.

“Speaking of consequences, as I’m sure you know, you’re destined to a place beyond Tartarus for your, shall we say… less than virtues life.”

“I expected that much.”

“And so I have to ask, are you interested in…” he paused hesitantly, “an opportunity?”

“…” their gears were turning and churning inside their heads.

“And where are you going with this?” Somber uneasily asked. Raising his brow skeptically at the prospect of this sudden offer being thrown his way.

As much as his curiosity fueled him, the back of his neck begged to differ as his coat seemed to tingle and scream in opposition, seeing as the skeleton also seemed to have second thoughts on their answer. ‘Who knew reading into emotions and fears could tell you so much about them,’ he thought to himself, internally patting himself at being able to spot small giveaways…

Finally, the skeleton seemed to have made up its mind. “Although there is a strict code of ethics shared between most… benevolent beings, including those of the Forces of Nature, such as the Spirit of Harmony, there stands a few… creative liberties gifted to a select few, including my position.”

Well… that wasn’t convincing enough to win him over, judging by the fact that Somber was clearly still skeptical. “Really? Well, you’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”

“I know, I know,” the skeleton muttered, quickly thinking of ways to put forward his offer. “The premise of it is really simple, become a courier of Death, and under my supervision, postpone your judgment and maybe, just maybe, get the opportunity that you never knew you needed!”

Still undeterred, however, the skeleton was quick to see that he really did have to try harder than simple words. So he decided that maybe it was appropriate to have a bit of showing so that he hammer home what he was telling. And with a snap of his finger, the mountain scenery that once encapsulated them was quickly turned into the quiet hallway, something he'd hoped would play a subconscious role in convincing the unicorn to see through with his offer.

“Empires galore!" He exclaimed. "You may have once feared being left into obscurity, but with an iron will and, erhm… shall we say, more or less bloody path, you changed your fate and many more!”

“Don’t try to sugarcoat my story,” Somber remarked, insisting and intending to keep things straight and honest as much as possible between the two of them. “Because we both know the extent, and it’s not gonna stick with just how you seem to handle your shtick.”

“Riiiight…” the skeleton reluctantly replied, but despite that, he quickly found himself and Somber wandering about near the portraits that the hallway showed. In particular, the portrait of King Grover I, the Unifier of the Griffonkind, whose reign eventually paved the way for the GGE’s formation.

 “Well, your rule over the Crystal ponies wasn’t exactly a massacre of an entire race, and excluding the fact that you did for a brief period in time send them into extinction, let us think about the end result of it, what you achieved. And I believe you'll have to agree with me on this, you did succeed in your goal of being remembered, albeit with an unfortunate catch. Now to sprinkle this back to my offer would be very simple, you see, all I ask is that you take on one role, a small but significant one, to become one of my many couriers in the mortal realm! To live amongst the living once again, or should you want another form, so long as you become a courier to a courier of death! And who knows, I might just decide to form ranks if I have the spare time to organize the lot.”

“But…” Somber's mind halted, not out of confusion, but more so the fact of the extent of this opportunity that was presented to him. His hesitation was clearly evident as the moments lingered on, with the portrait of Grover overlooking them both all the while.

“If you could look past the fact that you will be my employee in this endeavor, then I tell you now that rest assured, I do treat those under my care with utmost respect and dignity, and although I am not in charge of the breath of life, I could pull for you a few favors should you need it. Consider it your third chance in potential life, you screwed the first two, but hey, as the old adage goes, the third time's the charm! So what do you say? Do you want to make this chance count?”

The unicorn could only stare in shock at what he heard. Was it true? Or was he being deceived into false hope? He was unsure as temptation really was in every thought as he weighed his options.

“Should you need to be reassured further of your ‘living’ situation if you take my offer, I am willing to show you the nature of such positions and…”

But Somber didn’t care about what he'd have to endure, much less the empty words that were spewing out of the skeleton. No, for all he cared that wasn’t the point, because what he was up against was something he wished he'd never thought he’d have to face again, a choice. 




For so long in his reign was he defined by what everyone else thought of him, a dictator, a monster, or whatever great evil would come to mind, all brought about from the one choice of taking fate head-on, whether it be the moment he becomes an Umbrum or as a so-called dictator.

He thought he’d only have to face that decision once, but now, after his death, he is once again faced with the same question he had on the fateful day he choose to try and change fate head-on… 

But back then, he had his resolve, patience, and willingness because he believed he had more to gain and near nothing to lose, now, however? Was he content to be remembered as a monster, in some delusional feeling of deservingness of retribution?

“You may have been fearful once, a shadow that once hid in the shadow. And you eventually came out with the help of another fellow, you aspired to be something and to become something. The only wrong turn you took was your studies in shadows, and by extension –”

“Fears,” Somber said, completing the line of thought presented.

“Yes, but, well, I'd be lying if I said that wasn’t quite the smart move, because as you can see…” a single flick of the hand by the Captain again, and the scenery changed from the overlooking mountain of Somber’s dream empire into a new hall with the portraits of the many Emperors of the Great Griffon Empire and then some. “You’ve become distinguished, subsequently becoming something more than what even the majority of the sovereigns in the greatest empire in your world’s history could even wish of accomplishing.”

It was awe-inducing, as if the sheer scale of the hall shrunk them into insignificant at the moment, Somber could as far as his eye could see the hundreds, if not thousands of Kings, Dutch, and Emperors of the GGE and more! And something deep down really did resonate, although he could very well move on into an afterlife and receive the consequences he pretty much deserved, there stood before him an opportunity, a one-of-a-kind standing for him to accept or forgo.

The question that stands in his way, his mind now was, should he take it? Did he deserve it? Or is there something greater at play?

On the other fence of this mental charade, the Captain should be eternally grateful that higher beings, like him, could mitigate magic to some capacity. He didn’t expect Somber to be exceptionally proficient in his field, especially since his form of magic, which dares he admit it, was near-alike to Cadenza’s form of magic in love, only that it differed it catering to capturing the emotion of fear and… apathy.

That was what the Captain feared: if Somber had grown to numb out his emotions like fear, which would really be apathetic, he couldn't see the light of his offer. His gamble was that Somber had changed just enough to at least put some semblance of trust in his word on the balance, and he really wasn’t given a break as it was clear that Somber still weighed his actions heavily on the consequences brought about by his alter-ego, which made it seem like the unicorn could go either way, which of course wasn’t good for him.

He wasn’t playing a game, as much as Life and Death might put the entire balance of everything as a ‘game’ of stories, he was genuinely a cut shorter than them. He still had lingering emotions from his bygone past, which played a big role in trying to be something more than a courier of Death.

Although unlike the being/s (?) who preceded him, whom he believed simply operated on a need-to-know basis and a simple pretense of delivering any said quota just for the sake of it. Their actions, at least according to just how unrelenting and seemingly inhumane some of the stories could get, were provocative, to say the least.

Of course, that was his thoughts on the matter, as he himself had his own fair share of dealings before his time as the Captain of Death, having been involved in some pretty lucrative dealings whilst he was alive. His palms weren't clear of blood either, far from it, he could probably bathe an entire continent in blood if he had to compare. And yet despite that undeniably less than a merciful standard of life and achievements he led, he never considered himself a ‘great’ nor even an associate of one, despite the contemporary being true. 

Despite that, he did still become an unsung hero of sorts, and although he never got his name written in full when he worked or was contracted, he still proved his worth in the mastery of his craft in warfare and business. 

Life wasn't exactly smooth sailing for him, for a start, he tried to build and work himself a reputation that got him "posted", but more on the lines of being exiled in the Baltics under Russian, Swedish, and Germanic supervision. There, he learned the art of the sea trade and basic warfare, and would, later on, use that when there came a problem in the Americas, he was sooner posted to be working for the EIC to further develop his trade and connections, eventually having put what he'd learned to earn a place in commandeering the Santísima Trinidad and L'Orient on different occasions for convoys and such. 

To say the least, his time did teach him a thing or two about the value of blood and spice, and by extension, the cruel reality of waging war and business. After all, he did believe one has to play all sides to not only understand the world but always come out on top.

He had grown accustomed to it, it was the nature of his past forte after all, and having grown accustomed to such has since lent itself to bring a mixed conundrum for him. On one hand, his expertise proved his worth in the form of his professionalism and a unique charm that usually allowed him to come out on top of his dealing with higher beings or his subordinates, on the other, it was the very thing that latched onto him from his old life, something he can't simply let go and has since occasionally revisited in the form of nostalgia and memory, a constant reminder of sorts.

That was then that he realized he was getting sidetracked again, so much for having a conscience. The Captain realized he still had a job to do. “So, I must ask, do you wish to become something more with the opportunity that I give you? Or are you content being the shadow of an ego that robbed you of the life you had?"

Now, there was a clear hesitation shared, but what set this time apart was Somber staring back at the Captain, as if he tried to gauge his features and discern if it was a ploy, evidently, Somber seemed to be leaning in believing it wasn’t one. “Then… yes, if I am able to turn my fate around, then I will take this chance.”

‘Well, well, looks like someone learned a thing or two about fates… maybe he’ll get to learn about immortality as well.’ But that was another topic for another day. Somber’s affirmation was what he needed to hear, and a slight grin slowly formed across the Captain’s face as he knew he had just earned himself another asset, and a useful one at that, unlike the Storm King…

“But…” Somber relented a bit, “how are we going to set things in stone exactly? After all, although I know that caveats and the like aren’t my forte, I can still sense there’s something deeper than what meets the eye.”

“Ah,” his mind wandered to a quick thought, finding it humorous that Somber was quick on the gun as a small chuckle escaped him, it reminded him that of course, nothing is usually final until it’s actually laid out on paper, fine then. “Then a document entailing everything related is what you want, yes?”

And with a quick flick of the wrist, a paper containing all the formalities was conjured up and was levitated for the unicorn to read, and eventually sign. It outlined everything, even the Captain's intention and some other formalities.

All the while, Somber didn't realize the gaze of the hundreds of thousands of the portraits of the GGE, who all seemed to be staring down unto them, as if they observed the entire preceding as it unfolded, their expressions never changing but their eyes laid set on the two beings who were making a contract. 

On the off-hand, the Captain could tell that he was being watched, and it was unnerving, the literal feeling of being watched, which wasn’t there initially, making itself known as if to push onto the facts and remind him of the situation. He was being observed, like a vulture circling its meal, and although he wasn't fazed, he could tell that something was up, something was turning outside the backdrop he had created.

“So, is this where I sign?” Somber promptly asked, pointing at a blank space left specifically for his name. Having skimmed through most of the document whilst having read thoroughly through the important clauses and parts that he thought were important.

A quick nod was made by the skeleton, and the unicorn proceeded to reread the paper for a final time, and the only thing needed was his name and signature to seal the deal with the contract, which he would promptly give in due time.

The Captain, having noticed Somber finishing up, simply flicked his wrist once again and a pen appeared for the unicorn to use. Which was of course quickly encapsulated in the magical hue of Somber’s magic, as he wrote and signed his name on the given space on the paper.

“Excellent,” the Captain quickly remarked, taking the piece of paper and quickly skimming its contents, making sure everything was in order.

“So when do we start?” Somber eagerly asked, awaiting what he thought to be his ticket back to the real world, whether it was resurrection, reincarnation, or another way he didn't care so long as he was sent back alive, a subordinate of a Captain perhaps, but alive nonetheless. 

After all, he did believe he’d have his third chance in life at the cost of some additional work, if what the Captain’s position as a somewhat benevolent being implied that is, and he was willing to endure that to write the wrongs in his legacy, to try and make a difference once again.

The Captain for his part, looked away hesitantly when the unicorn asked him, initially unwilling to push through with what he’d have to do. 

But he knew what had to be done, and he simply must set things straight, now. “Ah yes, you see… as much as I acknowledge your tenacity and abilities, Somber. You’ll have to wait for a good while until I’ll send you back there. After all, as a captain, I form and operate in fleets, not individuals.”

Wait, what!? Was he tricked? Lead on and be manipulated? Somber didn’t know, as he felt the odd sensation of drowsiness slowly take effect, affecting his willpower to slowly leave him and the effects of exhaustion to make itself known to him. Making it harder for him to stay awake and infer what was about to happen at any given moment.

“Although as I said, you did get the job." The Captain said, more at a vain attempt of reassurance. "The problem you face now is simply being put on standby, but not to worry, I'm just sending you to a place like Limbo, so it’ll feel like a quick nap. So until I'll see you again, sweet dreams.”

And without even a second thought, the Captain sealed Somber's fate for the foreseeable time. Somber didn't even have time to react, as his body simply went limp and the pupils in his eyes disappeared, leaving a white backdrop in his eyes.

He could only stare at the hollow shell called a body. Looking around, he saw all the portraits in the hallway staring down at him as if they judged his actions. 

But he was unfazed, and much as he could sense Somber wanting to give a remark or protest in the last moment, he was quicker on doing the deed needed to avoid growing an unwanted attachment, which would have made things subsequently harder later on down the line. 

The Captain could only breathe a sigh, running his skeletal hand down his skull with a hint of regret. He started to walk, slowly at first, but picking up the pace into something akin to a stroll, all the while he looked around at the portraits that hung from either side of the hallway wall. 

The Grim Reaper really was pinning him in a tight spot every now and again. Now, he'll just have to wait for things to play out… but there was a nagging feeling deep inside him.

He knew the willpower of a spirit is stronger than what even he’d give it credit for, and he feared that if he’d keep omitting, he might very well meet his match in one of the many forms of Fate, or in the worst case, a vengeful spirit. Something he didn't wish to deal with nor be given the prospect of even preparing for.

He continued on with his stroll, finding it to be the only thing he could do for the time being. He'll come around eventually, he knew it, just didn't know when.



 

He could hear it, the distant bells, the bells that symbolized a distant coming. The Captain breathed a sigh, god he really should be thankful that he was able to keep a façade on despite tough jigs. 

Although given the fact, the two Kings he had recently dealt with made him realize a grim lesson he had long since set aside, having dedication was a double-edged sword, and it really dug into him that it required time and willingness, two things that he simply grew dull towards since his servitude to the Grim Reaper. And something that he had to work his way into building again if he wanted to earn the trust of the couriers he would recruit. For now, however, he can rest assured that he at least made sure that an asset was secured, which was something.

He was in his office, eagerly waiting for the report he expected from his informants. After all, he didn't simply handle those in between the mortal realm and the afterlife, he also had to keep himself posted on recent events and unfortunately, transgressions. He knew that the business with souls wasn't cut-and-dry as he'd love it to be, with vengeful spirits usually brute-forcing their way back into the mortal realm, a problem that he hasn't encountered in a while, but believed would have to deal with eventually once more.

Regardless, as the moments settled on, the Captain felt a nagging, almost boiling feeling in his stomach. Which was weird, because he didn't have one, to begin with. 

Trying to help himself, he realized something, he still hasn't heard from Grim Reaper in a while, and surely his sibling would have reached out to him if something was up for this long. It served to slowly remind him of the part of the job that pissed him off the most. Just how was he going to wait!? He knew the Grim Reaper could be cruel at times, and he never got used to the antics, which meant he harbored a small sense of resentfulness, of course, one could have a different opinion on the matter. 

That was until he realized the sensation in his stomach wasn't an unfamiliar one. It was on the tip of his tongue, he just couldn't find the word until the realization hit him a tad bit too late.

“SON OF A BITC –” but before he could finish his angered exclamation. He was poofed into nonexistence…
> Interlude 1: Setting Records Straight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

… 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.
> Chapter 3: Ramming Through Endeavors
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mt. Everhoof, 20 Decades before the Night’s Banishment…



The cold winter winds howled whilst the snow hurled itself onto the mountainside, never to cease as if their persistence would reach no end. Seemingly like a force of nature, such winds and forces guarding the entirety of the mountain, as if to tell everyone that it was impossible to climb, guarding a mysterious… something.

Was it a powerful artifact? A glorious treasure trove? An ancient relic? Whatever was waiting behind the closed doors of nature’s force, it was both equally enticing and dissuasive to most who would venture into Mt. Everhoof’s slopes.

Yet the Captain, well, he could only really mumble to himself incoherently, still pissed from the recent excursion he had with his boss. Despite the condition he was subjected to in this mountain pass, it was nothing compared to what was potentially in store for him for his return, doing little in the way of reassuring him of his future.

Outside of wanting to finish this particular documentation, he also knew that he’d have to fill in the missing reports; in particular, two dark manifestations, and one particular Dark Sorcerer, who was said to have rammed through his problems with the brute force of magic. Having worked overtime since his subsequent return, it didn’t give him much in the way of an opportunity to plan his next moves.

“Stupid fuck’n magic,” he murmured to himself in contempt. “Why can’t He provide better arrangements!? The bastard practically has an entire industry at his disposal at this point! Just, why?”

Doing a small gesture with his skeletal bones, he conjured up the most recent documents he had concerning (arguably) the most prolific Dark Sorcerer of Equestria and the Old World of Equis: Grogar, the Grand Sorcerer of Fiends.

From what the report told, he was more than just a dark sorcerer; although it was his main trade, he is said to be the conqueror that united most of Equestria under his imperial rule… until an untimely turn of events. Of course, the document also goes into detail about many things; the one he was interested in was where the soul’s potential whereabouts were, with him following up on a particular report that said he was headed for a cave system.

Looking up from reading the report, the Captain saw himself in front of his destination. With a nonexistent sigh, he mustered up his willpower not to curse under his breath.

Unfortunately, his entrance would be met with an announcement as the soul of the ram he was searching for greeted him with a… less than endearing sentiment.

“WHO GOES THERE!?” The ram exclaimed, making the Captain recoil at the sudden exclamation. “I can sense a dark force approach…”

“REVEAL THYSELF!” and in a display of proficiency in his craft, the ram placed all of his weight onto a single stomp, which quickly sent a rippling effect, as a crack quickly formed on the stone floors, one that was quickly multiplied and began to break onto the direction of the Captain.

Quick on his feet, the Captain made a quick hop as he began to try to levitate himself, but dropped his concealment spell in the process. And in a quick turn of events, the ram charged forth and with great ferocity, bashed his horns center mass of the Captain’s chest, sending him hurling to the wall.

With an audible *thud* and the wall he smashed into having created a large crater as a result, the Captain could only groan in pain. “Augh… fu –”

Lurching in pain, he tried to regain his footing but was again met by the ram’s horn, which again sent him hurling, now onto the opposite side of the cave’s floor.

‘OOF! The lucky bastard got the drop on me.’ He thought to himself. Looking around, he saw what was unmistakably the spirit of the Dark Sorcerer he was looking for.

From where he was, it seemed like the ram was smarter than what he let on; not all muscle it seemed. And from the way he saw it, the ram blocked the only way in and out of the passage, with no obvious way out. Of course, it seemed like the ram had more in store.

“Who’s art thou?” he asked, horn at the ready as he awaited his answer.

The Captain wasn’t quite as quick, but he’ll manage, as he lifted himself from his laying position on the floor and stood with prideful dignity. “Who else but your collector, no less.”

“Collector?” the ram asked in disbelief, “I, Grogar, am above such things as the monotonous and irrelevant sort. So, I ask again, who- no. What are you?”

Baffled at Grogar’s spirit having no respect for him, a subordinate of one of the greatest “Dark” Creatures to have existed, he realized his temper was being tested, and through sheer force of will, he held his composure from simply lashing out there and then. “As I said, and will insist, I am your collector, one of many who ferries or guides –”

“Ha!” the ram scoffed, clearly having doubted the claim, “I am Grogar! The Dark Sorcerer of Equestria, and you think your worth, virtues, and prowess are anything of worth? I am one of the greats! You’ll have to try harder than that, you utter fool.”

Well, the Captain wasn’t keen on getting his hands dirty today, but he guessed that he’d better challenge this confident demeanor if such an attitude is to continue. “If such is the case, then what makes you so different from me? I mean what gives you that ‘defining’ difference?”

“Hmph,” he was clearly reluctant to say his peace, but a quick turnaround seemed to have made him speak. “Why should I answer that question? You have no right to such a line of thought, let alone having arranged the privilege for such introductions to be in order.”

 The Captain would bet that it was his pride that did not allow him to remain silent without a rebuttal. But that didn’t mean that was plain and simple, because from what the Captain could tell, depending on what he’d say, Gorgar would likely steer this conversation in different ways, and really, he would hate it to give off the wrong impressions, after all, he was an advocate for all truth, just like Death. “Then I’d like for us both to leave behind our… less than civil prolusion. So let us take the first steps to introductions, it is only proper, yes?”

“Hm… yes, quite so.” The ram agreed.

And having no hesitation, knowing he’ll be playing the long game, the Captain gave a simple introduction. “Then my name is Azrael, Azrael Zephaniah. And as I said, I’m a collector of sorts. And you?”

The ram responded in kind, wanting to be seen as nothing less than proper. “Grogar, Grogar the Dark Sorcerer of Equestria. And I must say, what a weird name you’ve got, um… Mr.? Azreal.”

Chuckling at the remark, he heeded it no mind. “I get that a lot.” He admitted. “And please, just ‘Azrael’ would be preferred. Oh, and I must ask, what is a ‘Dark Sorcerer’ like you doing in a cave like this?”

“Ah,” again, the ram hesitated in finding himself a fulfilling answer. “It’s nothing important, but –”

‘Nice try,’ the Captain thought, ‘but if you’re not blunt, then I’ll simply have to be the one,’

 “– But I insist, tell me more about yourself.” He instead said, slowly beginning a menacing walk toward the ram.

Of course, the ram was no stranger, much less a fool, for such small talks, and he knew the jig was up. And again, hostilities ensued. “Stay back!”

The Captain, initially confident in his ability to deceive the ram, quickly realized he couldn’t pull his usual shtick, and gladly obliged. Raising his skeletal hands to show that he had no intention to challenge the ram, yet.

“I may not know who you are, ‘Azrael’, but I assure you, nothing’s past a Dark Sorcerer the likes of I. You are no match for me, as I have raised and commanded demons far stronger than whatever you are. Pitiful, really, so just how do you see yourself standing against me? I suggest that you yield whilst you can, after all, I am the sorcerer of demons and foul creatures, casting such creatures tends to require one to show… strength, and sometimes, being merciless is the best way to show that even the deepest pits of Tartarus may be inviting.”

“Then I suggest you reassess what you deem as ‘demon’ or ‘foul’ creatures.” He boldly said, refuting and challenging the Sorcerer’s position of power. “Because as far as I know, not all Dark Creatures come from Tartarus.”

“Really?” The ram asked skeptically. “Then give me one such power.” The ram refuted, confident in his knowledge of creatures and the works. But instead of expecting a stuttering claim, he received a question that challenged his very identity, jeopardizing his standing in this conversation between him and the Captain. One he admittedly ought to have known before he refutes.

“Do you not consider yourself as one?” The Captain asked, his ‘presence’ starting to grow as uncertainty filled the ram. “After all, what you’ve done and would’ve done in all your years alive, do you consider yourself as one of them? A Dark Creature to his core.”

W- Was he now?

“I- I…” he gave an audible gulp.

Grogar’s mind worked overtime, knowing fully well that there was only one of two truly acceptable answers; was it a yes, or a no? Any variation of an answer would give away his thoughts on the matter. Play denial, and he’ll be quickly be figured out of his BS, and if he answers it straight, it would mean he yields to this creature’s sense of reason, defeating his initial play for power in steering this conversation, the actual answer was just secondary. And who was he to yield? To him, his only real play now was to remain silent, lest he exposes too much of his inner thoughts.

“Ironic,” the Captain remarked, stroking his chin as he wondered how many times he’s met creatures blind to their own change. “And I ask, who are you to talk about respect and power? When really, you lack a sense of decency and humbleness. And YET, despite having summoned countless Dark Creatures whilst you were alive, could not see the very foul stench of what you had become, no longer just a Dark Sorcerer, you’ve become the Dark Sorcerer, as you said. Which, like many things, would come with its proxies.”

Now that he thought about it, an old saying popped into the Captain’s head. “Well, as far as I could tell. Time and time again, I guess the adage proves itself all year round. Living with filth long enough really does seem to dull out its foul stench, now does it?”

And it was a remark that the Dark Sorcerer felt insulted yet… helpless towards. In truth, although he did grow to become a Dark Sorcerer, it wasn’t always like that. He could still remember at one point in his life when he wasn’t exactly a Demon Summoner, on the contrary, summonings were just a side gig to what he thought was the bigger goal, becoming Emperor of (what would become) Equestria, not necessarily through “Evil” means, but more so with what was available.

And upon returning to the remark of the Captain, there was really only one side to it, it could also be interpreted as a subversive jab at his pride, showing just how far the extent of the “stench” he had grown to tolerate and remain ignorant towards, with he himself becoming the “stench” that he once summoned under his title as Dark Sorcerer. It was a truth that he preferred to remain ignorant of, especially since he did believe he was above the demons and foul creatures he would regularly summon and command.

“Why so silent?” the Captain asked, his ever-growing smirk putting pressure on the turning situation for the ram.

“And so? My silence proves NOTHING! I never, and would I neither, admit nor deny such proposition, and you can’t tell me the contrary!”

Now beyond baffled at the ram’s persistent ignorance, even in the face of an actively turning tide, the Captain wasn’t quite sure if his plan to reach out for help would even work with such an ignorant and persistent mindset that hindered his confidence in the ram’s ability to listen to reason. But… he did think a bit of sugarcoating might help with the ram’s willingness to help him out, a mix of desperation and the illusion of choice might do the trick. Now, to word it right is the challenge, to present an opportunity without spilling too many details...

“Hmm…” The Captain thought aloud, “With such persistence, I’m afraid I’ll have to search elsewhere for an accomplice…”

“Oh…” Now it was Grogar’s interest that was piqued. From what it sounded like, it seemed like the Captain might have an offer that might just prove itself to be well worth the trouble. “And, if I may ask, why would you need an accomplice?”

Oh, it was going as smoothly as he expected it to be. “Ah, why would you want to know? After all, I’m just nobody… but, I guess I could tell you. You see, I have two other, hmm… shall we say, ‘creatures’ on the loose, and I’ll need some help containing them, but as you can probably tell by the lack of accomplices I have accompanying me... well, you can say I’m a little short on company.”

“And if so… If I allow myself to offer my services to you, what is it that I would reap?” the sorcerer asked, looking past this game of superiority they once played, and instead looking at the bigger picture, of a way to get out of this hellhole of an astral state of sorts. “After all, not everything comes in blank checks.”

“We can speak of negotiations on a later date.” The Captain insisted, making the ram frown in the process. “Not to worry, we’ll bind it by contract, and I assume you’re aware of how those work, yes?”

“I am,” came the reply. “And where do you suppose we make it final?”

“In my office! It’s only formal after all.” And just as Grogar was about to open his mouth to respond, with a quick snap of his fingers, the Captain and Sorcerer were teleported to the Captain’s office, just as he said.





Cleaner and much better organized than before, the Captain himself had kept himself busy whilst he waited for recruits or the odd job that needs to be done. Papers weren’t stacked in the open and cabinet files, although extensively used and messy, helped keep the clutter in the office to a minimum.

Looking around, the ram could not help himself but feel intrigued at the site. So refined and distinguished, yet nothing overly dramatic whilst still being practical. It was nice, and it was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a loonnnggg while…

And while being on the topic of intrigue, there was one thing that piqued it the most for him, and it was while he looked around, he spotted something on the Captain’s bulletin board.

Had he been paying attention to what he was seeing, he would’ve seen his face amongst the sea of other note-worthy figures in Equis history, including Gusty the Great; instead, his eyes landed on one part of the board that was highlighted, filled with “Dark Creatures”, such as what appeared to be a Tantabus and a manifestation of Shadows.

Among them was something that stood out above the rest: a name. “And who might be this Sombra fellow over here?” he asked aloud, pointing in intrigue at a picture that was hanging from the bulletin board.

He knew the characteristics of many Creature, most especially those of “Dark” decent, likely better than anyone else who would ever live, and there are some subtle, or in other cases, dead giveaways. An internal critique he had in the back of his mind, hard not to have one when you’ve dedicated a good portion of your life to the pursuit of one thing. And this one, in particular, screamed of a very obvious, but more atypical creature of the Darkness, an Umbrum. 

“Oh, him?” The Captain turned. Scowling a bit at the picture of Sombra as an Umbrum. More out of the fact that it reminded him of what happened after the fact, with his employer; regardless, it did make for a good opportunity to plant the seeds of prospects for the Sorcerer. “He’s one of many… dead, but he’s got off better thanks to an opportunity I provided him with, more or less. It is part of my job you see, and with such things usually comes perks, but those aren’t important.”

Changing position to stare down at the Sorcerer, he asked him a question. “What is an important thought to me, is why you find this, an Umbrum with a name, to be the most intriguing part of my… board…”

At that, the Captain realized his entire bulletin board was on full display for the Sorcerer, and quickly cast a spell that blurred out most of the sensitive information. Not that Grogar would notice it, as his mind seemed to have wandered off to some other prospects.

“Oh please, I knew such beings existed long ago, I simply have a preference. After all, I find it much more interesting to observe a creature with identity than those who are willing and are just Forces of Nature. Nothing wrong with that, now is there?”

The Captain couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. “To right indeed.”

“But that is beside the point…” he kept in the back of his mind what the Captain told him, if he made it out unscathed for the most part, this might be a point he’d be willing to come back for a better active “life” than to do nothing. “I’d like to know why you brought me here.”

In truth, the Dark Sorcerer was in denial, last he knew, in his desperate attempt to reclaim his lost bell, he was consumed with nothing but rage and persistence that lead to a freezing death. After which he was in a sort of limbo state, being in the realm of living and dead, between matter and not. And it just so happened that the Captain provided him this opportunity and at a pleasantly much-needed time no less!

“Well, as you said, our documents should be in order, yes? So to make sure everything’s in order, what would you need anything?” The Captain asked as he started rummaging through several cabinet files, presumably to find a much-needed contact or contract. “Your file told me plenty of things. And though I trust you to be resourceful I’d rather have you make things plain and simple, so what would a sorcerer like you need for an endeavor?”

“My file?” Shaking that thought quickly from his mind, Grogar gave it a quick thought. His list of priorities was, to put it simply, nonexistent, which made him do a devious smirk that began to grow on the Sorcerer, one that was quickly washed away once the Captain’s posture told him he knew better. “Ah, well, I guess I’ll only need an artifact similar to the Bewitching Bell. That would suffice me for the most part.”

“Nothing else?” he asked, making sure he wasn’t just hearing things.

Shaking his head, the Captain continued. “Very well then, I’ll check for arrangements, but I can tell you, you’re being monitored by higher beings.”

“…” Grogar wouldn’t argue any further, but his curiosity wasn’t quite quenched yet. “So why me? A Dark Sorcerer. Surely by the looks of it, you could’ve clearly approached a much broader-versed Sorcerer or something of the like.”

Ignoring the remark, the Captain threw a sheet of paper and pen, continuing all the necessary information for this short partnership between the two. “There’s a trap door to the left of that cabinet.” The Captain said, instructing the ram to do as follows. “Go down there, it’s a basement with a light source, stay down there as you think and read the terms and conditions of that paper.”

“And besides, not all methodologies need to be methodical.” Making his way to the door, he looked around once again in the room expectantly. “Sometimes, the easiest and quickest route is convent enough to ram through without thinking simply. Gets the job done; I’ll be outside, when you’re done, you’ll know where to find me.”

“So, you’re no Dark Creature…” Grogar concluded, persistent despite the hint of a quiver in his unrelenting attitude, a weight that crept with his tone as he continued whilst reading through the fine print. “You’re no advocate of Darkness… are you, Mr. Azreal?”

Shaking his head, the Captain would only deny it. “I told you everything you needed to know. As I said before, I’m simply going through the simplest and most convenient method available. And although I don’t prefer ramming through my problems with brute force, I’m running short on time as well, so there are measures I would’ve preferred not to take but had to, including working with you in particular.”

Although a little offended, it did not deter the ram from his goal. “Then precautions be dammed! Why don’t you answer my question?” It was his final gambit, a little throwback to what happened to him earlier. Either way, the ram was sure to be insightful of what the response would be. “You are no Dark Creature, let alone a sorcerer or caster. So I ask again, what are you?”

The response that came, was a frown. “Finish up as quickly as you can, as it is in your best interest to remain ignorant.”

“Hmph,” the ram could only scoff, his final defiant act of disrespect for the time being.

Knowing where his fate would be shared with for the foreseeable future, he would save his qualms for another day…