"And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts
And I looked, and behold a pale horse
And his name that sat on him was death, and hell followed with him" --Johnny Cash, When the Man Comes Around
Present Day
Micah walked through the double silver doors to Azrael's office, grumbling under his breath. He wanted to get all his frustration out before facing him. He did not expect such a summon, since everyone, including Azrael, was fully aware of Micah's sabbatical. Reaping for so many centuries, non-stop made him weary and numb. He just wanted to be alone. But when you're the boss's number one reaper, when he calls you into service, you do as you're told. Micah stood at the tabernacle awaiting Azrael's, to tell him what was so urgent he needed to break his word to him, and disturb his holiday.
Standing calm, his hands fashioned behind his back, he waited patiently as the frosted gold doors opened in front of him and a tall, olive skinned man sauntered in. Azrael had his long, dark hair pulled in a ponytail away from his face, which also made it easy to see his light gray, almost white eyes. Against his dark pupils, it gave him a haunting look, which is most likely what he was going for. Though Azrael did not have a joyous job, nor did he aspire to have one, he usually was in a better mood than he seemed to be now. His jaw was stiff and face upturned into a fierce frown. It was clear he had a bone to pick with someone and Micah began to mentally scroll through his recent events to see if he somehow was the culprit of Azrael's angst.
"Greetings brother. How are you, Micah?"
"I'm well, sir. You summoned me?"
"I have. I'm sorry, that I know they called you from your sabbatical, but it's urgent and couldn't wait till you returned from your leave. I hope that's okay."
No, not really, he thought to himself. "That's quite alright, sir. How can I be of assistance?"
"We have a necromancer that is causing trouble for us. She's upsetting the system and I need her wrangled in immediately."
Micah frowned. "There aren't that many necromancers on earth, and the ones that are, aren't any harm to us or our jobs."
"True. Most of them usually just communicate with the deceased to get information, help loved ones cope or get closure, that's all. But this one is different. She is bringing souls back to live as if their death never happened. A complete reanimation of the dead, soul intact." Azrael's face crinkled deeper into a frown, fury mounting just at the thought of someone committing such an act of defiance.
Micah froze with widened eyes. Surely no one was that stupid. Everyone knew that reversing death was akin to kicking the Powers That Be right in the balls. Azrael's balls. That never works out well for anyone involved. Modern witches usually know the score and if they didn't want to face another fallout like the Spanish Inquisition or the Salem Witch Trials, they kept their polished claws off the souls of man. "Does she belong to a coven?"
"No, she works alone. Her mother did a long time ago, but before she was born. They have no association in this."
"Well, in that case, she is most likely unaware of the rules and realize it's forbidden. Probably a new one just exploring her gift foolishly. Have you sent her a warning?"
"I sent Abraham a few years ago, but instead of giving her 'the horror', he warned her in her dreams. Giving her nightmares, visions and the sort."
Micah scoffed at hearing the inept reaper's name. Abraham was a total wuss, especially with human women. It always amazed Micah how Abraham managed to skirt around his duties, all the while bragging that he is one of the best Reapers and harbinger in service. Micah let him brag, as he figured the work would speak for itself. "So I take it, that approach didn't go too well."
Unamused, Azrael shook his head. "No, she's arrogant. She persists to bring others back and the other reapers are getting pissed. I am getting pissed. What reaper can complete their assignment when they know some necromancer is gonna come up behind them and undo all their work?"
Micah nodded in agreement. He imagine that would be extremely frustrating. As a reaper, you are to lead that human or creature into the arms of Death and collect their soul to bring to the Treasury. How crappy is it for you to deliver that soul and have some witch pull that soul out and back to the body you killed? Even for Azrael, he was sure to see it as stealing. And no one steals from Death. He steals from you.
Azrael walked closer to him. "So this is why I need you, Micah. I need someone to give her a more...stern message from me. I would go myself, but I doubt my anger will stay in check which may force me to take the extreme and I'm trying to be compassionate. "
Micah's brows raised as if that last word sounded foreign coming from his master's lips. "I see."
"I need you to make her understand what she is doing and that when a soul is called forth for us to claim, she is never, ever to interfere. That if she continues, she will feel my wrath and the next soul to get called up will be hers. Understood?"
Micah gave a firm, but solemn nod. "Clearly. I'll get her vow and you'll never see her do this again."
Azrael gave a small smile, which almost seemed to cause him physical pain. When Micah seemed to get the message that his boss was trying to express that he was pleased, his smile faded. "Good. Do whatever you feel is in your judgment to do, outside removing free will, of course. But I want her walking the line or she will not like the alternative." His eyes grew dark, like he already played in his mind the consequences he had planned for her if she disobeyed.
Micah sincerely hoped the woman had reason, for her sake. "I'll leave immediately to do a bit of recon and plan my delivery. I will not fail."
Azrael nodded in agreement. He did feel some immense comfort in knowing that Micah will handle it. He was his by far the best harbinger, possibly that he's ever had. Micah took his job very seriously, and performed the collection of souls with grace and dignity, like Azrael himself did in his youth. When he fell to earth, Micah always came back with results and was a shining example for the others. It was why he was called among the others as "The Pale Rider", which was one of the many names Azrael has been called. A strong 2nd in command, he found the epithet fitting. Maybe it was because he was Azrael's best, he worked him so hard for centuries and now in the midst of him well-deserved vacation, he had to be called back. Almost anyone else would have given him protest, but not Micah. The reaper had great work ethics. "I have no doubt, brother. And when you complete this task, consider your sabbatical time tripled. I would like you to rest and recharge before going back into the field again. You are my best, so I need you at your best."
Micah walked up to Azrael and shook his hand, sealing his vow to complete his mission and in turn Azrael's agreement to allow him time away. Micah tried not to frown as his consciousness got vocal. Yeah, we did this same song and dance just two weeks ago, that time saying I wouldn't receive any summons during my time off. Let's see how long he dangles this new carrot in front of me. Micah hid his skeptism behind a smile. "Thank you, sir. That's very generous of you."
"It's only fair, Micah. Thank you for this. I'll let the other's know you're on the job so they can relax and continue to start collecting in that area again."
Micah backed away. "I'll report back soon." With that, he bowed and walked out through the double doors.
It had been a while since he'd fallen to earth for a long-term mission. It was easier when he soul gathered as he knew which souls he needed to claim so he could zip in and zip out easily. However, Azrael wanted him to bring the witch dark tidings, to scare her into never using her gifts ever again. He didn't imagine this should take too long either. He's reigned down warnings to mortals before, and nothing says "last chance" like an angel of death greeting you at your doorstep. Many not only take heed, but are usually scared straight from every possible wrongdoing. Guess if they had the manpower, they could probably turn the world of humans into law-biding citizens forever. Too bad the powers that be are sticklers for human free will.
Micah walked up to the main room entrance, and through the glass doors, where all of the reapers receive their assignments. The long black staircase at the entrance wound down like a helix into the sea of thousands of reapers either coming or going to their missions. Micah found himself stopping at the top of the stairs, taking in the amazing sight of his brothers and sisters working to bring souls to Azrael. The reapers called it Central Station and Micah always found the name rather apropos. To a rookie eye, he imagined it may look rather chaotic but in reality the processes flowed as gracefully as a migrating flock of doves. Azrael definitely knew how to run a league in his day, now it runs as a self-sustained organism. His admiration at the display was interrupted by an obnoxious pat on his back.
"Hey there! Micah, didn't expect to see you here." A deep southern voice spoke from behind.
Micah suddenly rolled his eyes before finally turning around to greet one of his well-known, ridiculous brethern. "Hello Abraham." His voice purposely devoid of all enthusiasm.
Abraham wore his trademark shit-eating grin, as if he wins everyday of his existence. He never understood how someone so dense remained so positive. Guess ignorance is truly bliss. Wish we could all be so lucky.
"I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were on sabbatical." Abraham gave a puzzled look.
"Yes, well. Something's come up and need to help Azrael urgently. So I've postponed." Micah began to descend the steps and of course, Abraham followed, walking down beside him. "I better get ready to head out."
"Whoa, sounds pretty heavy if the big boss needed to disturb you and bring 'The Pale Rider' back into the saddle!" Abraham made air quotes as he mockingly referred to Micah with his nickname. "Pretty gracious for you to ditch your rare time off to do some mission work."
"Don't mind it in the least. Everybody's got a job to do and I enjoy doing mine." As the reached the bottom of the stairs, Micah began to maneuver around the crowd of people to get to his handle's desk. "I'll be down and back before anyone knows it."
Abraham gave a chuckle before running into a couple of reapers. He had to move double time to keep up with Micah as they weaved through the sea of people. If Abraham didn't know any better, he would have sworn Micah was trying to avoid him. Nah, why would he do a thing like that? "So I imagine this is pretty top secret, classified, hush-hush am I right? Eh?"
"Wow, nothing gets by you. You totally have me all. Figured. Out. "
Micah's deadpan voice crept over Abraham, whom spurned a displeased glare in retaliation to his sarcasm. "What the hell's your problem, Micah? I'm trying to be friendly."
Micah walked up to the counter and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Friendly, my ass. You're being an asshole." He nonchalantly passed the paper to the man behind the counter who acknowledged by nodding before Micah continued. "The reason I'm here is because of you. You fail to do your job and like always, I'm called to clean it up. I could be resting, doing absolutely nothing right now, but I can't because of you." Micah realized how pathetic that sounded. Who was pissed because he couldn't just sit around in oblivion doing absolutely nothing but exist? Him, that's who. It was that important to him and he couldn't care less what a loser that made him out to be.
Abraham folded his arms and held a deep frown at Micah's accusation. The guy had some nerve. He tried to be friendly and somehow he was the asshole? The guy was a piece of work. So fucking high and mighty to be regarded as Azrael's favorite, he doesn't have time to talk to someone with dignity. Prick.
"I always do my job, for the record and just because you got called in from your shit vacation doesn't make you fucking Superman." Abraham got close to Micah's profile pointing a finger at him, not really focusing that he was drawing a little crowd.
Micah stood still waiting. He really hoped his handle gets here fast...for Abe's sake.
"That is a fact, Abe. You always do your job." He turned his head to face Abraham's dark, furious eyes. "A shitty rendition of your job, I might add, but you do it nonetheless, I agree."
"You've got no right to talk to me like that!" Abraham growled as he pushed Micah, who grabbed his arm, turning it behind Abraham and forced him down on the marble floor in an arm bar. Abraham gritted his teeth as his face was pressed against the cold, grainy floor. He growled as it was all he could do against the pain. "Let me go, damn you!"
Micah sighed. "You know how this goes, yes? You put your hands on me and I convince you never to do it again. Are we understood?"
The incident caught the attention of many reapers, who stood there watching it unravel with wide eyes. Abraham's face warmed with anger and embarrassment. "You think you're so damn superior, don't you?"
"You're still talking? Look, I don't care about your feelings. You're a lazy asshole who cuts corners and somehow, I'm supposed to grin and respect you? Well I don't." He unpinned his arm and allowed him to finally stand. "And neither should the rest of your brethern. But they are more gracious than me. So, are we finished?"
Abraham stretched his arm and rubbed it, eyeing Micah with daggers. "We're finished." He looked around at the crowd who had a front row to his humiliation. His eyes glowed with such intensity, it made them ache. No one shows him out like this and gets away with it. But this wasn't the time nor the place to get Micah back. Payback's a bitch, Micah. Just you wait.
Micah nodded. "Good." He turned his back to him and faced the counter where his handler was standing there, apparently absorbing the whole incident. "Hi, checking in for a 48 hour descent, please. Approved by Azrael."
The white-haired handler looked at the slip of paper he gave a man earlier and looked at him with wide, brown eyes. "Of course, you're approved. Didn't expect to see you in these lines any time soon, Micah."
Micah gave a deep sigh. "Yep, Saffron. Neither did I."
She stamped the slip of paper and smiled, sliding it back to him. "Well, you know the routine. Please check in with me at the end of your 48 hour mission or if you encounter any problems preventing you from completing your mission."
"Will do." Micah assured as he slipped the paper in his pocket and knocked on the mahogany counter for good luck.
"Godspeed, Micah," Saffron said as she watched him walk towards the grandiose pearlescent double doors which lead to what they called the golden platform. It was a portal that bridged to earth so reapers can leave to collect souls.
Micah has been on that platform thousands of times, as a collector of souls, as a harbinger of death and to issue punishments of Azrael's wrath. He's done this a million times and this one should be no different. However, he was anxious to get this over with so he can go back to being left alone. As a harbinger, he knew his role and was ready to exact warning on this crazy necromancer that managed to drum up all kinds of angst from Azrael. This witch had better fall in line if she knew what was good for her.
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Looks like Micah has one more thing to do before he can relax!