Inked: The Reaper Chronicles

Prologue- Dublin, Ireland

It was crisp autumn night, one where the crumpled traces of summer leaves were blown like tumbleweeds into the roasting stare of the blinking streetlights.

But Hale wasn't one for admiring the sights.

His stetson-heeled walk was brisk on the cold streets-hands tightly encased in the pockets of his grey overcoat, stick pursed between his thin lips as he thoughtfully chewed. It was the coolness which with he did which showed what kind of person he was.

It was clear that he meant business.

The lack of people was comforting to say the least. Only a few brave souls stalked the city tonight, roaming away in half-awake listlessness and an almost complete obliviousness to the reality that stood around them.

He snorted in disgust.

But really, no-one wanted to know what was happening out there to others at 3AM. And reality? He should know about that. He was an expert at avoiding it.

Dublin was a nice city and all, he mused to himself over a cloudy breath. Not a New York or Seoul, but a nice place altogether.

Roomy, even.

And besides, Memphis was the place to be in his own opinion.

A rattle of something resounded from a twisting corner behind him. His ears perked up at the sound. Then, a quick rush of footseps.

He smiled.

So. This was the game they wanted to play.

Hands firmly tucked in pockets, he strode on ahead, shoulder-length blonde hair bobbing along behind him, heels crackling against the pavement.

"In Dublin's fair city........."

A rush of a being behind him again, but closer now. Soon, they started emerging from the shadows, tightly encircling the lone blonde in a circle. Normal people- homeless, some in hoodies, others in ruffled business shirts and pinstriped jackets- almost normal, except for the dark void where their whites and irises were supposed to be.

It had been lying in wait for him, it didn't take an Einstein for that. But evidently it was willing to use innocents to do its dirty fighting for it.

If he wasn't so tired, then Hale Byrd would have been insulted by the sheer laziness.

The first one on the left, a man in his fifties, lunged for him, guided by an agility of a man twenty years his junior. Hale caught him squarely in the jowls, hurling him to the ground with a push. A second's mouth aimed for his Achilles' Tendon, a well-aimed kick to the ribs dispatched that notion.

"Where the girls are so pretty......" he continued as he walked around, catching the hissing face of another twentysomething year old.

"Sorry 'bout this." he smirked, before tossing her effortlessly with one hand into a nearby open garbage can. Or more locally and uninspiring lay, a 'bin'.

They'd be sore in the morning- at the worst, a few bruises. But they'd be alive.

It was something that had grown on Hale since he'd been here- these had been-and still were- ordinary people all anchored down by their ordinary lives. And he would never cause a fray to that line if he could just kill them like this.

Rules. You couldn't live with them and you couldn't live without them.

Holding open another's snapping jaws with both hands, he snarled up to the rooftops, half-hidden by the shadow of night.

"What's the matter?" he brayed up, "Too afraid to deal with us anymore? I'm shocked!"

"You think after how much we've won-" he went on in the same mocking way, delivering a roundhouse kick to a domino line of hooded teenagers, "you think that you would at least know how to back down from a fight!"

He fell downwards only to catch his breath for a few seconds, a few translucent strands clamping down the sides of his face, chuckling to himself quietly as he heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps.

Slowly, he stood up to his full height, chest slightly puffed out as he gave his best manically grin.

"You want the wings?" he drawled, "Here you go -free of charge."

Throwing off his leather jacket, he pulled up his left t-shirt sleeve and tightly gripped his covered shoulder. The transformation that occurred was as fast as it was a showstopper.

From the precised slits in the back of his t-shirt, dark tips wormed up, forming into sharp points and they expanded outwards and upwards. Almost instantly, as with every time he did this, a cool warmth enveloped his body, almost assuring him in his powers. Lifted onto the tips of his feet by the huge wings that had now sprouted, Hale now looked down at his adversaries.

This was his favourite part right here.

With a swift flap of his newfound wings, he sent the remainder of the horde practically sprawling backwards with the force. Swooping down, the points arched ahead of him, glinting like daggers in the moonlight.

The bodies that were fallen around him were still breathing- and were most definitely going to be sore in the morning.

There was a crackle of roofing tiles as something sprinted across them.

But Hale wasn't over just yet. He had whatever it was in his sights, ready to tear and hack with whatever he could.

There was an electric crackle as he gazed up.

A crackling over his earpiece snapped him out of his potential bloodlust.

"Hale? Hale, come in."

His grin descended to a pout, he answered half-heartedly.

"Ah, moment killers. Was wondering when you'd show up....." he huffed, gritting his teeth, "and just right as I was going in for the kill?!"

"I hope you exercised restraint in your little 'spat' tonight. We do NOT need a repeat of Atlanta right now..." the first voice shot back in an equal exchange of annoyance. Hale rolled his eyes, thankful of the lack of the 'all-seeing eyes' at the present moment.

"Far from it," he replied, "but I didn't get a good look at whoever it was, but it was a yellow belly. Used a little 'crowd control' on the natives ."

He looked to the silhouette of the O'Connell bridge through a space between buildings, where a second sky rippled across the waters.

"You dont think......" he murmured.

"We've been surveilling the country for quite some time along with the rest of the world. There's no one else that has the knowledge we do about this. If there's even one hint of a threat, then our agents will be able to handle it. "

Hale quirked an eyebrow.

"You're talking about her, aren't you?"

He underestimated how quick the reply was.

"She's been in place here now for six months. Just enough to get ....acquainted with her new atmosphere."

Acquainted. Hale Byrd could have almost laughed at the thought, but respecting his own image, suppressed it as a burble in his throat.

"We've tracked this bastard long enough to here. We're not stopping now."

"Agreed." Hale offered, adjusting the piece with his forefinger, looking around for any trace of sirens or a flashing blue light- sights that he'd learnt to recognize as a 'red alert' priority. Some of the bodies were already beginning to shift and groan having been released from whatever control that they had been under.

Between two fingers, he released the stick from between his lips, he breathed outward, watching it cloud through the air as he grinned, wild green eyes watching as it dissipated into nothingness.

And in a swift flap of dark wings, he was gone into the sky as well.













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