The Icy Reaper

Chapter 1: Frost and the Reaper

I am the Grim Reaper, some call me Shinigami, El Muerto, He-Who-Rides-The-Pale-Horse, The Final Truth, The Angel of Death, The Executioner, The Kinslayer, Abaddon, Thanatos, The Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, but personally I prefer Death. I've lived for centuries, in fact I think I've lived nearly as long as Humans have been able to comprehend the idea that one day they might not be alive. It seems it took them a surprisingly long time to realise this.

It's my duty to usher souls from this world into the next and, quite frankly, I rather enjoy it. It's a fairly pleasant job, you get to meet a lot of interesting people (albeit not for very long) and you get to see the world. A good sharp scythe and a long black cloak are all that I need to complete my image.

On the day I became Death, I found my scythe and became immediately attached to it. A week or so after this, I decided to make myself a cloak out of night to cover myself up. After all, it's rather an acquired feeling walking around naked.

In all of these years, everything has gone almost perfectly. Deciding who should go on, who should reincarnate, who should become a ghost, etc. Unfortunately, one cold winter, my peaceful job moving souls across the dimensions was rudely interrupted by a mischievous little bastard whom I've desperately wanted to get my thin-fingered hands on for 300 years. His name... is Jack Frost.

It was a particularly cold evening in a small town in the middle of nowhere in particular which in turn was in the middle of America. All I knew about this town was that it was called Burgess. I smiled to myself. I had met Thaddeus Burgess himself. Not a particularly forward thinking man, but that was his problem not mine (or rather had been his problem considering that the man had been dead for over a quarter of a millenium).

I leant back on my scythe in the middle of the alley I was standing in, scribbling in data on a clipboard. An old woman had just died peacefully of old age (94 to be precise.) Her name had been Aracelia Fortescue. A peaceful death always made me happy because I could reassure the deceased that they had lived a good and full life... usually.

I checked the next necro-document. I then reached into my cloak, took out a large, oak Lifetimer from the depths of my deepest pocket and examined it. It was decorated nicely with swirling lines inlaid with silver and the name on the brass plaque on the base read "Bertram M. Holmes". The golden sand was rapidly running out. I estimated another hour of life at the best for this man. I stowed the Lifetimer away back into my cloak, picked up my scythe and began to walk down the alley I was standing in.

It was then I felt the Life energy behind me. I carefully looked at my scythes' silvery blade. It's normally indego aura had turned magenta. This meant that I was being pursued by an immortal. I came to a halt. A sly grin spread across my face. 'Don't you know it's impolite to sneak up on people?' I said. 'Spirit Snare!' I yelled. I whipped around and hurled the death net into the shadows, its bonds completely unbreakable. I heard it wrap around something and then a satisfying grunt and slam when a body hit the ground. I stepped forward.

The figure was face-down and bound like a turkey in the net which was crackling with blue lines of electricity. I placed my foot underneath the body and kicked it over. A teenage boy with a handsome face, white hair, a blue hoodie, brown trousers and no shoes looked up at me unable to make a sound because one of the ropes was pulled tight across his mouth. I had no trouble recognising this guy whatsoever. My grin turned rather sinister.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't Jackson Overland Frost.' I remember him extremely clearly indeed; I had been robbed of this particular soul many years ago. The basta- I mean, person called the Man-in-the-Moon had resurrected him, snatching his soul away from me.

I snapped my fingers and the net binding Jack became one single rope which flew up my sleeve and into one of the internal pockets.

Frost pulled himself to his feet and gave me a grin that didn't extend to his eyes which remained angry. 'To my friends, I'm just Jack.' I raised an eyebrow. 'To your friends? So what do I call you then?' I asked sarcastically. 'Oh, ha,' Jack said un-enthusiastically.

'Over three hundred years of your existence and when I finally begin to forget you and enjoy my life, you decide to rear your handsome, but extremely annoying head.' I looked him over. He was handsome, there were few could deny it... it was then I realised in what direction I was thinking and mentally scolded myself severly.

'So what do you want then?' I said leaning back against the wall of the alley, raising an eyebrow. 'I hope you realise that I'm a very busy person. I've got to attend 4 separate deaths by old age, 3 car crashes, a road-side bomb, 8 drownings, 2 electrocutions, 16 alcohol poisonings and a decapitation caused by an unfortunate incident with an axe, an icy puddle and a careless attitude to health and safety, so get it over with quickly.' Jack dusted himself off and said 'It's official business.' I raised an eyebrow. 'Official business? What, did you set up a market for frozen foods?'

I picked up my scythe and twirled it lightly through the air. It left a thin blue line behind it in the air which shimmered like a light underneath a cave ravine. I hoped this would impress Jack, but as I expected it didn't, or at least if it did, he didn't show it. 'I've seen more interesting stuff,' Jack said. 'FOOL!' I yelled pointing my scythe at him. Jack jumped. 'Where'd you get that from?' 'I saw it on a T.V. show once,' I said.

'So what's this official business about?' I asked. 'It's important,' Jack said. If he thought that would be enough to grab my interest, he was wildly mistaken. 'Well, if you're not going to be any more specific than that, I hope you don't mind, but some of us actually have proper business to attend to. Farewell to you, you antagonizing adolescent.' I turned to leave.

'Now boys!' Jack yelled. I whipped around, but before I could do anything, two Yeti's appeared out of nowhere, grabbed me by the arms and thrust me into a sack. Once I was inside the sack, the string around the top was pulled tight.

'What the hell do you think you're doing, Frost!?' I yelled through the sack. 'You need to come with me, by any means necessary. NOW!' he yelled. I heard a whoosh and saw through the fabric, a flash. I was then thrown through the air. I felt a sensation as if I was traveling through a waterfall, but I emerged quite warm and dry on the other side. WHAM. I hit the ground hard.

'He's here,' I heard whispered not far off. Clatter. My scythe must have hit the ground next to me.

'I've got him,' I heard Jack say suddenly in an overly confident voice. 'It was easy, he didn't put up much trouble. I don't know why people are so afraid of him.' That cocky remark was a bit too much to put up with. I burst out of the sack in a rage of fire which fell into cinders. I whipped round and saw Jack who looked shocked and scared.

'Ah, Reaper, at last you've arrived,' came a voice with a strong Russian accent. I turned slowly. In front of me was a massive man with a long white beard and a red suit. He had tattoos on his arms, one read "Naughty" and the other "Nice". 'Oh god,' I groaned, 'Not you.' North raised his arms in welcome. 'Welcome to the North Pole.'