Death sprinted across the misty streets of London, his scythe slung over his shoulder. He knew better than anyone that Grimm was the strongest of the Reapers, save for their parents, but he was still worried. He couldn’t help it! He and his brother had been together since Grimm was four, and neither could imagine life without the other.
“Shit…” Death stopped in his tracks. There, right in front of him was Grimm, covered in scrapes and bruises, and barely able to stand without propping himself up with his scythe.
“Grimm! Are you alright?”
“Do I look okay?”
Looks had nothing to do with it, Death could sense the bond between Grimm’s body and soul weakening. If he didn’t get help soon… Death shook his head, he needed to think positive. All he needed to do was beat the hellspawn, right? Grimm already weakened it, so what was the worst that could happen?
Sadly, Death had forgotten the number one rule of ghost hunting: Never tempt fate, lest it answer. And answer he received, in the form of a large claw slashed across his chest. The metal blades passing through his flesh like a ghost, cutting cleanly across his very soul.
Stumbling backwards, Death got a good look at his assailant. He was mostly human in appearance, dressed in a blood drenched tuxedo and top hat. However, the pair of large metal claws strapped to his hands, his unblinking glowing red eyes, and his grin full of pointed teeth made his true nature quite clear. “Jack Winters…” Death sputtered.
The hellspawn chuckled, the unsettling smile spread across his face frozen in place, unflinching as he spoke. “I prefer to be called Jack the Ripper. But it’s not important, you won’t live to speak my name again…”
Death charged, swinging his scythe with full force. It wasn’t much help though, as Jack disappeared as fast as he arrived, gone long before Death’s scythe reached him. “What the…” Once again, pain surged through Death’s entire body as Jack’s claw penetrated his chest from behind. “Still alive? You’re quite durable.” Jack unceremoniously tore his claw from Death’s body, letting him drop to the ground.
Death moaned. It looked like this battle would be harder than he had thought…
A note from the
Some of the more perceptive of you might have noticed that Jack left a very bloody corpse, despite the inability of his claws to leave physical wounds. The reason for this is that Jack has other means for messing up flesh and bone, like chunks of concrete and metal street signs relieved of their earthly bonds. By which I mean he tore a stop sign out of the pavement, and beat the cement lingering to it’s base over the head of his victim. Possibly using a stolen kitchen knife for extra fun. Sick, twisted, demonic, fun.
In other news, things are starting to get going, huh? I apologize for my total inability to write fight scenes, I can choreograph them in my head, but putting it to paper is another matter entirely.
Edit: Jack was supposed to have a more creepy tone of voice, implied through strategic italicization of bits of each word. However, when copy-pasting stuff away from my word editor of choice, things like which characters are in italics or bold are forgotten. Usually, I fix this by manually correcting the text, but I forgot with this chapter. It has been fixed now, my apologies for the inconvenience.