Topic: Come on, baby. Don't fear the Reaper.

Tommy · Date: 2006-05-24 16:04 EST

?Came the last night of sadness
And it was clear she couldn't go on
Then the door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew and then disappeared
The curtains flew and then he appeared (saying don't be afraid)
Come on baby (and she had no fear)
And she ran to him (then they started to fly)
They looked backward and said goodbye (she had become like they are)
She had taken his hand (she had become like they are)
Come on baby (don't fear the Reaper)? -- Blue Oyster Cult
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Old Market District
Fire & Emeralds Inn and Garden
10:30 PM, Saturday Night

Tommy H. Figure, a.k.a. ?The Figure,? stood glaring out the window of his suite on the top floor of the Fire & Emeralds Inn and Garden. The room was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the lively cobbled streets below, where disinteresting women gabbed about magic spells and pointless relationships, and boisterous men roared their drunkenness and brawled unskillfully. The Old Market District sprawled out below him, an annoyingly idyllic, disgusting medieval commercial region. The city from which this thug had come ? those wicked urban corridors of smoggy Long Beach ? made this quaint little town seem like some DragonCon geek?s impression of paradise.

The Figure?s gradual takeover had already begun, with carefully probing grasps for power already in the works. All of the rules for ascertaining control over a town back home seemed to apply perfectly to this idiotically named ?Old Market District.? Take over the waste management system? Easy. Find the toughest bastard around and beat the hell out of him in front of everybody? Even easier. Before long he?d be able to rename the place "The District of Tommy," and the officials would be stumbling over themselves to carve out the new signs.

Of course, he knew he would need a few extra helping hands in his quest for wealth and power. Good subordinates around here were hard to come by, but the Figure had managed to root out a few. The one who had shown the most promise now sat waiting on the couch in the dark room behind him. Tommy thought he could likely hand this young man the keys to the kingdom one day. He was clever, notorious, devious, immoral, and didn?t give a damn what others thought of him. But first the Figure would have to obtain the keys for himself.

On the street below, his huge black Hummer drew to a stop before the front porch. Tommy watched amusedly as the denizens in the streets shrank from the monstrous vehicle in frantic bewilderment. Yeah, you medieval losers never seen anything like that, have you?

Skyler · Date: 2006-05-24 16:39 EST

?Time to go, dawg,? Tommy announced in his deep gravely voice.

Skyler watched the huge six foot nine frame of his new boss stride toward him. The sheer size of the man put the boy on edge. In the room?s darkness, Tommy was a massive colossus clad in shadow. The Figure even seemed to give off heat when he was close, like he was actually the devil hiding out in human skin. Tommy picked up a large duffle bag and thrust it into Skyler?s arms.

?Tonight your questions gonna get some answers. We?re gonna see if you can help pull off a real job without wettin? your panties.? The Figure reached under his left arm and withdrew his huge black magnum from its holster. It was a Mark VII Desert Eagle, almost a foot long from barrel to grip. He popped open the cylinder, meticulously filled the magazine with eight bullets from his shirt pocket, then snapped it back into place and holstered the gun.

Skyler?s hands trembled involuntarily, so he shoved them into his pockets. He had been unable to remove his eyes from the Figure?s weapon the whole time it was exposed, mystified by its black, authoritative presence. The gun was almost as intimidating as the man who held it. ?Can you tell me what exactly we?re doing??

The Figure considered his answer carefully. ?Ethel Franklin is an old beotch I respect. They tell me that in her younger days she was a true capitalist, a bad-ass bidnesswoman, an efficient manager of folk an' duckets. She was a genius . . . a ruthless genius.? He paused to reflect on the description he had just given. ?If all those reports are true, it seems likes such a waste what we fixin? to do.?

Skyler rose from the couch and stared at him impassively. It seemed as though a fascinating movie was playing out behind the Figure?s eyes.

?She livin? on the floor above the restaurant she own,? Tommy continued, distantly. ?She rich enough to own several houses in the outlying suburbs of RhyDin, but she always considered the restaurant her true home. Even in her old ass age, blasted by Alzheimer?s disease, her dawgs can?t pry her from her favorite perch. She spends her days lying back in bed, mindlessly listening to the piano play downstairs. Now, let?s get truckin?.?

Tommy Hill Figure and his new subordinate, the boy Skyler Jackson Chamberland, left the suite and stomped down the steps of the Fire & Emeralds Inn and Garden.

Outside, the huge black Humvee awaited them, its powerful engine purring. Big Fred, Tommy?s new driver, waited expectantly by the rear door and held it open for them. ?Boss, this thing, this "truck" you brought here, it's awesome. People are freaking out. When they hear this baby hum and get a look at it, they run off screaming and pulling their hair!?

?We gonna see Old Lady Ethel,? Tommy announced, ignoring Big Fred?s gleeful testimony and ducking into the backseat. Skyler followed close behind him, carrying the large duffle bag under one arm. Big Fred shoved the door closed when the two were inside, then circled back around to the driver?s seat. Navajo Joe and Gasher already waited within, each occupying a separate row of seats.

?What?s in the bag, boss?? Navajo Joe inquired, giddily.

?An old friend,? replied Tommy, cryptically.

Navajo Joe chuckled and rubbed his hands together. ?This is gonna be good. I hate Old Lady Ethel.?

?Is there anyone you don?t hate?? chided Gasher.

?I don?t hate Misty Moon,? Navajo Joe proclaimed, dreamily.

?Who?s Misty Moon?? Skyler inquired.

Gasher snorted dismissively. ?Some high-class hooker Joe will never have a chance of affording.?

Skyler · Date: 2006-06-01 02:35 EST

Big Fred drove the vehicle away from the inn and melted into the late evening traffic of horseback riders and carriages. Alarmed shouts and exclamations of dismay from the pedestrians rang out around them as Big Fred bashed into carts and toppled trashcans and spooked horses, providing priceless entertainment. These pathetic fools lost in time probably thought some evil spell had been cast on someone?s carriage, turning it into a metal battering ram that growled demonically as it patrolled the city streets on its own. Inside the tinted windows of the Hummer, the five males howled maniacal peels of strident laughter as the people on the streets got their first glimpse of an automobile, throwing themselves out of its way in dread, into ditches or under porches or in alleys. The Hummer continued moving through the dark night, its occupants enjoying the chaos on the dark streets. The sky was utterly dark, starless and empty. The looks they got from the bystanders were darker still . . . but nothing was darker than the carload of assholes that made its way toward Old Lady Ethel's restaurant.

Tommy · Date: 2006-06-26 06:31 EST

?We already got her signature,? Gasher deduced. ?Why we going back to see her?? The shy sorcerer was skinny and fragile, and the young man had an odd smell about him tonight, like he had recently farted and the smell had begun to wear off, but not completely.

?The contract states that the deal only sets into motion after Ethel?s death,? Navajo Joe, a fat gray-haired Indian, informed him.

?Right,? said Gasher. ?But she?s on her death bad, isn?t she? How much longer could we have to wait??

?Mr. Figure?s not a patient enough man to find out. How you gonna do it though, boss?? asked Joe, leaning over the seat to talk to Tommy. ?I know it ain?t your style just to pop an old lady. There?s no fun in that. What?s up your sleeve??

Tommy glanced at him, patting the duffle bag resting on the seat between himself and Skyler. ?No hints, dawg.?

Navajo Joe tittered, his multiple chins jiggling.

?I bet you it?s got something to do with that farming implement I just picked up,? prophesized Gasher.

?What?? Navajo Joe spat. ?Where the hell?d you get a farming implement??

?The hardware store.? Gasher smiled smugly, enjoying his moment. ?Boss had me pick it up earlier this afternoon.?

?What kind of tool you talking about?? Navajo Joe pried. He turned and looked around the very back row of seats, scanning the shadows where Gasher sat.

?Shut up,? instructed Tommy. They did.

They arrived at Ethel Franklin?s restaurant, the Sweet Pea, twenty minutes later. Big Fred backed the Humvee into the dark alley behind the building, parking in front of the back door. The five men stepped out of the car.

?Are the hookers already inside?? Gasher asked Navajo Joe.

?Sure thing, pal. They?ve been in there for half an hour already, at least. And they know to distract Ethel?s two bouncers from the door leading upstairs.?

?Who did you send??

?Marlena and Martha.?

?You idiot,? accused Gasher. ?Marlena?s tits aren?t big enough to distract anyone.?

?She just had a boob job last week,? Navajo Joe assured him.

?Who performed it?? pressed Gasher. ?Probably Donaldson!? Gasher was normally the shy and tentative type, but he had known Joe for so long he felt comfortable speaking to him with friendly harshess.

?Peters! I swear it was Peters.? Navajo Joe shrugged defensively.

Gasher's heated gaze bore into him. ?She better have those so-called bouncers eating out of her hand. And Martha ? she better have those teeth whitened by now.?

?Don?t threaten me,? warned Navajo Joe.

?Do you guys always use your hookers as pawns?? Skyler interjected, amusedly. This was all apparently new and fascinating to the boy.

Navajo Joe opened his mouth to answer, but the Figure finally spoke up. Tommy wasn?t concerned with the identity of the hookers. He gestured to the mouth of the alley and gave his orders. ?Gasher, you and Joe go around through the front and find your way to this back door. Your lock-picking skills ain't gonna help us here. There's no doorknob on the outside; you can't pick a lock that ain't there. You two will have to make it back here and let us in.?

The fat man and the skinny sorcerer went about their task, walking toward the street side by side.

Tommy rounded on the driver. ?Fred ? keep a mad fix on dis alley. If any ride like a carriage or a cart tries to impede it, even for a beat, it?s your job to clear it out.?

Big Fred nodded obediently and disappeared into the Hummer's black cabin.

Tommy opened the Hummer?s back gate and withdrew a long wooden shaft that had been stored on the floor underlying the seats. He tossed it to Skyler. ?Careful with that thing, dawg.?

Skyler · Date: 2006-06-26 14:08 EST

Skyler gawked as it emerged, at first surmising that it might be a shovel. But then he saw the wickedly curved blade on the end and recognized the object as a scythe. He caught it with both hands, wary of the cutting edge. It appeared to be almost seven feet long. Turning the handle in his grasp, he knew after one glance at the polished blade that it was sharp and deadly. He marveled at the tool, but refrained from asking the Figure its purpose. Skyler had caught on to the fact that pointless questions annoyed the man. If Tommy wanted him to know its purpose, he would inform him.

Big Fred killed the engine and the headlights and began his wait behind the SUV?s tinted windows. The Hummer looked poised and powerful enclosed in the narrow corridor, like a bullet resting in the chamber of a gun barrel. An exhaust vent, most likely from one of the restaurant?s stoves, hissed periodic plumes of steam into the alley, enveloping the vehicle and the two thugs in a light haze.

Tommy retrieved the duffle bag from the backseat and stepped close to the building, where a convenient shadow obscured him. Skyler did the same without having to be told, moving behind Tommy and holding the scythe close.

A few moments later the door swung open and Navajo Joe emerged. ?Welcome to Ethel's place, boss.? The Figure, unimpressed, disappeared into the dim hallway with Skyler following close behind. ?Holy hell,? Navajo Joe exclaimed, noticing the scythe the teen carried. ?This is gonna be good.?

Tommy navigated the hallway with Skyler and Navajo Joe behind him, until he reached a thick steel door where Gasher knelt, working at the lock. Soft chatter from the dinning room drifted down the corridor.

?I don?t see anyone here,? Navajo Joe taunted Gasher quietly. ?Looks like those hookers did their jobs.?

?Yeah? Shut up and let me do mine.? Gasher let out a sigh of satisfaction as the lock clicked and the door popped open. ?After you, gentlemen.? They all crowded through and waited on the foyer beyond. Gasher locked the door behind them.

In the sudden quiet, they could hear a fire crackling and a music box playing on the floor above. Skyler recognized the music coming from the box -- the Tango song. All eyes went to Tommy.

?You fools can observe from the door of the bedroom,? he told them, ?but no jawing and no laughing. Absolutely no noise or the whole thing goes bust.? He unzipped the duffle bag, stone-faced and somber. ?If someone should come up while I?m in the bedroom, pack ?em up quietly and we?ll do away with the body later. Don?t ice anyone. Ethel?s demise gotta appear natural. This place can?t become no crime scene.? He took a big black garment out of the bag and unrolled it. Tommy received only confused looks from his four subordinates until he pulled it over his head. The garment was a huge cloak of some sort, with a deep cowl that completely concealed his face. It had to have been custom made to fit Tommy?s huge figure so well. When he snatched the scythe from Skyler, suddenly they understood. Before them stood the spitting image of the Grim Reaper, the personified symbol of Death.

?So . . . what?s with the Halloween costume? You going to scare her to death?? cooed Navajo Joe.

?Ethel is a very religious woman, dawg. This costume should have a drastic effect on her. Sources tell me she?s been muttering about being taken by the Lord. Tonight she will be.? Tommy turned and walked slowly up the stairs, his awestruck servants creeping after him.

Skyler?s curiosity about the upcoming event was as strong as the others?. There was a time when he would have felt great compassion for the elderly woman, when he would have stood between her and anyone who meant her harm, regardless that he?d never met her. But now, like so many others before him, Skyler found himself overwhelmed and bizarrely hypnotized by the infectious presence of Tommy Figure. The boy walked along just one step behind the hulking, cloaked figure of his master, feeling neither guilt nor reserve, as though somehow he was doing noble, important work by observing this immorally mischievous endeavor.

Tommy · Date: 2006-07-12 08:42 EST

Ethel Franklin?s home above the restaurant consisted of one large floor. At the top of the steps they came to a living room, a kitchen and a hallway, all empty and dark. The bedroom that held the fire was at the very end of the hallway, its door hanging wide. The five of them crept down the corridor, not having to worry about moving too silently. The sound of the piano drifted up quite audibly from just below.

The situation was perfect for Tommy?s plan. When he stepped into the doorframe and analyzed the room, he noted that the fireplace was positioned on the wall opposite the bed. No other lights shone in the room. The old woman sat upright against the headboard, gazing at the flames vacantly. Tommy knew that she would be unable to see him standing in the shadows behind the light of the fire. Before taking action, he lurked there in the darkness and studied the old shell of a woman who loafed pathetically on the bed. Her mouth was slightly agape, the teeth within long departed. Her hair was so thin it was transparent. But the most drastic aspect of her appearance, Tommy noted, had to do with the woman?s chest. He had been told that when Ethel was much younger, she had been admired for her much larger than average bosom. It was a firm, powerful, intimidating aspect of her figure that helped her assert authority. But now, Tommy observed, there was nothing remaining but two deflated pancake-like breasts that made miserable little mounds beneath her nightgown. ?I?m going to release you from your misery, Mrs. Franklin,? he whispered.

Skyler, Gasher and Navajo Joe lay down at the bottom of the doorframe, so as to observe the scene unnoticed. Their faces were eager and volatile, like little boys getting their first glimpse of a pornographic magazine. Skyler was absolutely enraptured, staring greedily, as if the following event would reveal the meaning of life. Tommy knew the boy's heart. He knew that Skyler felt within himself a deep, ferocious need to watch this episode unfold. If the world began ending behind his back, he knew the boy would not turn.

The Grim Reaper tossed a handful of thick, chalky powder onto the fire. The flames puffed out at once. The room went quiet and dark so fast it was as though they?d all gone blind. But, finally their pupils adjusted enough to detect the glow of the moon and stars shining through the windows. Minutes of silence and darkness ticked by, and it became easier to see the two people in the room. They were little more than dark shadows among lighter shadows, but they were visible. Tommy stood as still as a mannequin, holding the scythe upright.

Tommy · Date: 2006-07-12 08:55 EST

After what seemed like an hour, the old woman?s voice, feeble and frightened, cracked the silence. ?I can see you there . . .?

The Grim Reaper, with excruciating slowness, went closer to the bed. The moonlight fell upon the blade of the scythe and sent a shimmer of light along its length, accentuating the tall figure in the hooded cloak.

The old woman emitted a weak, submissive gasp. ?Tonight . . .?

The cloaked figure inclined his head. The voice that came out of the cowl sounded nothing like the Figure?s. It was a croaking hiss, assertive in tone. ?Yes.?

Ethel Franklin shrank down into the folds of her blankets, her breath suddenly ragged. The Figure could feel her fear as plainly as he could feel the cloak concealing him. Tommy no longer felt like he was dressed as the Grim Reaper; he felt like he was the agent of death. An icy, forbidding aura seemed to settle around him.

The shadow on the bed began to writhe. She whined and whimpered, her breath coursing more haggardly. Tommy stretched out one hand toward his victim. She squealed when it touched her, a sound so high pitched it was almost inaudible. Then the room was still and quiet.

The Grim Reaper leaned over the bed. The pose looked similar to a father kissing a child goodnight. For a long time he did not move. There was a guttural howl, followed by a terrible, whining squeal. Then the woman?s ragged breath cut off abruptly.

?Light some candles,? came Tommy?s normal voice, finally.

Gasher lurched to his feet and fumbled for some matches. He lit three wall-mounted candles. Dim light washed over the room, and they all peered at the woman on the bed. Navajo Joe and Skyler crept inside then, reluctantly, as if some evil lurked within.

?It?s over,? announced Navajo Joe. ?I can?t believe it worked.?

?She?s dead,? Gasher marveled. ?And all you did was touch her.?

?It?s not over,? vowed Tommy. Laying the scythe on the bed, he knelt and picked up the old woman in his powerful arms.

?The hell are you doing?? gasped Gasher incredulously.

?I owe Ethel a dance.? He pointed a finger sharply at Navajo Joe. ?Whistle the goddamn tango song, and whistle it well.?

Joe hesitated only a brief moment, too shocked to comprehend the order. Then, with sheer force of will, the fat Indian began to whistle.

Tommy skillfully tangoed with the dead woman?s frail body, dipping her, tossing her, spinning her. The body that used to belong to Ethel Franklin flailed around in limp disarray, head snapping, arms dangling sickly.

Gasher and Navajo Joe and Skyler stared with grotesque disbelief at the spectacle before them. The look of horror on Joe?s face was especially troublesome. It was a wonder he was able to keep whistling the song without falter. Perhaps it was his fear of Tommy?s wrath that kept him from botching the tune.

Joe whistled the final note and held it. Tommy mimicked the music with perfect timing, dipping the old woman?s corpse in slow accompaniment. Finally Joe?s tune ended. Tommy pulled the corpse close to him and gave it a hug that made his three subordinates feel nauseous. Then he laid the corpse back on the mattress and tucked it in neatly under the blankets.

Without a word, Tommy picked up his scythe and left the room. His accomplices followed him, much more distantly than before. The looks on the faces of Navajo Joe and Gasher were haunted and traumatized.

The look on Skyler?s face was one of awe.