rgv

  So, two asides this time. The chapter that was supposed to come out today just didn't feel right, so I'm going to rewrite it. This chapter was meant to come ter, and I might reorder it ter. Content warningSpoilerdeath, corpse, more cursing than usual, defiling a corpse

  [colpse]

  Aside: Gus's Last DayGus awoke in a panic. His hands clutched his chest as a memory of pain startled him awake. He couldn't breathe! His chest refused to expand, like he had forgotten how to, and he had to remember how it was done. He felt his head spin, struggling from bckout to wakefulness, when his lungs finally drew in a rattling breath. Relief flooded him as he just id there and took his time to just breath while waiting for his spotty vision to clear.

  He startled at the face he found hovering over him. No, not a face. A mask. A white mask with expressive brows and thin lips set in a line. He couldn't find the wearer's eyes. He tried to remember how he had ended up in this particur alley, and if this was someone he owed money who'd just beaten him up.

  "Do you remember how you died?" asked the mask in a distinctly feminine voice, and he startled again. For a moment he had gotten himself to believe the mask was just a figment, but no, it spoke to him. His eyes finally adjusted to the dingy alley light, and he made out silky, shiny bck hair, and a tiny figure in ratty pedestrians clothes. It reminded him of a bawdy tale about a monkey Spirit Beast pying pranks in a city.

  "I don' rightly think I'm dead?" he tried, hoping it was some urchin pying pranks. Setting aside the deranged mask wearing child for a moment, he patted his body to see how badly he was hurt. He stopped after a few smacks at his chest. Something a little sticky coated his hands. Even without looking, he knew it was blood. He still looked. Gently he searched for the wound, trying not to panic when he felt no pain. When his finger slipped into the hole in his chest, he resigned himself to the worst. He was in the Hells. No surprise, there. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was too dry. "Isn't the Hells supposed to be scarier?" he asked the demon haunting him.

  "We are not in the Hells. This is Lonely Knoll," the demon replied. He wondered why there wasn't a hint of malice there.

  "So, I'm a ghoul or something?" he asked. "You a necromancer, raising me up to be yer minion?"

  The mask tipped in thought. "I am a young god, exploring my domain. After I found your corpse, I thought I might offer you an opportunity for retribution."

  "Oh," he said again, dumbly. His noggin was starting to catch up, and he found the argument worked. At least, the facts as he knew them fit. "So, someone stabbed me? I probably deserved it. Give me a moment. Still kinda getting my bearings, ya know, Lady…? Uh, what do I call you? Lady Retribution?"

  The mask tipped the other way. "I do not want to be known for retribution. If you do not wish to seek retribution, then have you any other unfinished business? Regrets to make amends for? Ah, call me Lady Regrets. I like that more."

  "Okay, Lady Regrets." Gus sighed. "Yeah. Got a daughter to say bye to. Bar tab I rightfully can't pay no more, too. Ugh. Sally's gonna curse me out, but better I tell'er." He paused. "Oh, I remember who jabbed me! Was Prat, the little tick in Lord Hells's asshole."

  "Make an Oath to me, and I will let you be on your way."

  "What's the price? My soul?" he asked, glumly. Not like he'd say no. After all, he was going to be a permanent guest of Lord Hells soon anyway.

  "The price is cooperation. Abide by the Oath, and come tell me all that you have done when you finish. That is all."

  "Seems too good to be true," he said sourly, remembering old debts collected in beatings. "What's the Oath?"

  "Seek retribution, not revenge. Complete your business promptly. Do not dally. No mayhem. Speak not about me, save that a god gifted you extra time."

  "S'alright. I so swear, by Lady Regrets." He felt himself gripped by the Oath and bound to his word.

  "Good," Lady Regret said, straightening her clothes. "I have granted you a day. When your time is up, a ghost will come collect you." Then in grand godly fashioned, she walked out of the alley. If she hadn't just bound him to an Oath, he'd be certain she was a conman. Everyone knew gods didn't walk. They just showed up and disappeared.

  Gina was cleaning her little apartment when there was a rattle at the door. It was followed by knocking. She fetched a knife, stuck it in her belt—one couldn't be too careful, even if this was a safe street—then untched the door and pulled it aside. When she saw the man standing there, she was sorely tempted to close it right back up. Grumbling, and gd she didn't have any money tucked away, she faced her uninvited guest.

  "You know you ain't supposed to come around here, pops. At least the kids are out. So tell me, what do you want? I ain't got any money."

  "Just came to say bye, Gina." He gave a sad smile. "I was gonna ask if you'd give me a funeral, but… yeah." He let out a rattling sigh, and Gina's eyes stopped rolling to actually look at him. He did sound sicker than usual. "No, not even that. You're well rid of me, ain't ya? I guess I just wanted to see you one st time, for myself. Say I'm sorry again, though I know you're sick of that. Tell that boy you married he's still got my blessing, alright?"

  "What's wrong? You really sick this time?" Gina asked, feeling a sense of panic. She didn't get on with her father, but she didn't hate the bastard. Just, he was a pathetic bastard.

  "'fraid it's a bit worse than that." He sighed, looking down at himself. "I'll show you, but can you promise me you won't scream or nothin'? I wanna py a prank on that prick Prat before my time's up."

  "What are you…?" Her words trailed off as she looked at her father's open robe. There was dried blood around a hole in his chest. You didn't survive a stab like that. She felt herself paling, and her hands began to shake.

  Seeing her expression, Gus closed up the robes, and put up his hands. "I'm a revenant, girl. Won't do a damn thing to you, I swear. I really just… Fuck it, this was a bad idea. I'm leaving, okay?"

  He backed way, watching his daughter warily, until she ran over and gave him a fierce hug. "You stupid sod, why the hell… why couldn't you just… how? Why?"

  He gently pried her off, aware his sense of his own strength was… off. "Don't do that. Might get blood on yourself. Look, see…" He tried to give her a smile, but the skin of his face pinched strangely. Unnaturally. "And… you know one of them beatings I keep earning myself was bound to end up like this. Just a matter of time."

  Gina rubbed her eyes, looking at her father. "Yeah. How did you keep borrowing money when they keep having to beat it out of you, anyway?"

  "Eh, because after a beating they always get more'n they gave me. I think they started having fun taking turns giving me money to pay my debt to the other one."

  She sucked in a breath, stood up straighter, and asked, "You wanna see'm one st time?"

  He shook his head. "That's the only promise I made ya I managed to keep. The only one. Ain't gonna break it now." He gently patted her hand with his own. So cold and cmmy, with waxy skin. She struggled not to recoil. He gave her another smile, then turned away and started walking.

  "Bye pops! You were a shit father, but… I hope the Heavens embrace you!" He waved a hand, refusing to turn back.

  The bar was full of people in high spirits throwing back drinks. Musicians were pying, while a singer sang out cheerful jigs a few drunkards stumbled to. Prat was at a table, his eyes a little gzed and his ears deaf to the celebratory air. He'd slept terribly st night. He had always been a bit of a violent man. The occasional beating was a part of the daily business. Knifing a guy wasn't. He shouldn't have tried that failed moron of an alchemist's garbage. Made him rampage. He wasn't sure why he stopped after a single stab. He wanted to jab that little prick Gus a dozen times. Little idiot deserved it.

  Marco looked at him critically. He'd been there with'm, holding the guy. Had cussed him out afterwards, 'cause he'd almost stabbed him too. Marco wasn't bothered with the killing, but he was one of the gang's knives. Prat? He was just a collector. Gus was his first kill.

  "You gotta get over it. The whole thing was just bad timing, and its not like anyone's gonna miss that sorry sack of shit," Marco said.

  "I'll get over it! Just, it'll take a bit of—" A hand fell on his shoulder, and he jumped in his seat.

  "Whoa! Prat, rex!" wheezed a familiar voice. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up.

  Marco stared wide-eyed. As much as dropping Gus hadn't bothered him, having the corpse of the man standing there with a ghastly smile had him gawking in horror. Marco jumped to his feet, knife drawn. A cup spttered as he knocked into the table. Compints turned into shrieks at the sight of the naked bde.

  "You… you're dead, Gus," Prat bellowed, and even more eyes turned to them as the crowd pressed into a ring around them.

  Sally, the manager of the establishment, an older woman with gray showing at her roots and crows feet barely hidden by makeup, made her way through the press of bodies, shoving people out of her way roughly. Seeing Marcus and Prat at the center of things, she sighed.

  "What's going on?"

  The man with his back to her turned about at the sound of her voice. He ducked into a deep polite bow before she could catch his face. "Sorry, Sally! Saw Prat here, and had to tease'm."

  The face was ghastly when he came back up. A stiff smile that looked like it had been carved out of wax. The vague smell of rotting flesh. Sally backed up a step, her eyes a little wide. "You don't look so good, Gus."

  "Yeah, I'm not," he said, then flinched as Marcus stabbed him in the back. "Really now? I'm already dead. Putting more holes in me ain't gonna change anything."

  "You're dead?" Sally asked a bit stupidly. The few who made sense of what he said pushed back against the crowd pinning them in, but they never stopped staring. Too afraid to be near, and too curious to flee.

  "Prat went a bit wild and jabbed me during a 'collection'," Gus said apologetically. "Sorry, afraid I can't pay up my tab. Why I came here. Wanted to apologize to you, Sally. Here I'm just causing you trouble. Sorry for that, too." He gave her another bow.

  "You're really dead?" Sally asked, apparently still not registering the fact.

  "Yeah. Just taking care of my unfinished business. Said bye to my girl already. Teased this prick Prat a bit. Now that I told ya I can't pay, I think it's all done. Time to go… uh… guess I can't say that, huh?"

  "You can't run off on a debt like that," she said despite herself.

  "Only got til tomorrow morning, and I ain't doing much good to your—"

  There was a commotion at the door as guards forced their way through the spectators, ignoring the hurled insults. The Knight heading the guards entered the ring, looking at the four people before settling on Gus. He pulled a dagger, but made no move to threaten anyone. Protection, just in case. "People outside said there was an altercation?" he asked. He addressed Gus. "You have a bit of blood on you, sir."

  "I'm dead," Gus said dryly.

  "You're what?" the Knight asked, taken aback.

  "I'm dead. Prat there killed me." He zily thrust a thumb at the wide-eyed young man.

  The Knight stared at the victim, the obviously terrified perpetrator, the sad shape of the walking corpse, and Marcus trying in vain to his a bloody knife behind him. "I think you pointed out the wrong man," the Knight said cautiously.

  "Hm? Oh, no, he jabbed me just now. After I died. Here, you can see the wound on my back, see?" He turned to show them.

  A mortal guard asked the Knight, "What do we do when the victim of a murder accuses his murderer? I mean, it sounds open and shut, but… it can't be that convenient, can it?"

  "We find someone who knows the answers to those questions, and make it his problem," the Knight said glumly. "And you hope they aren't a vengeful sod who find ways to make problems for you, ter. Someone from the Ministry of Justice, I think, because I doubt there's a Lord in this city that wants to even hear about this."

  "The problem is, we can't verify your identity," said the agent from the Ministry of Judgment.

  "Sally can confirm who I am. She did! To the Knight who hauled me in!"

  "She did," agreed the Knight politely. The Knight was very polite. Even the way he held his sword against Gus's neck was polite, for all that it was also threatening. Gus wondered what would happen if his head did get cut off. It couldn't possibly kill him, so would he end up stumbling around trying to find his head?

  "She confirmed that's his body. That's not enough. You have to be Gus, body, mind and soul."

  "She and my daughter can verify my mind?" he offered. "I mean, they know me well enough."

  "That's… mostly true. The problem is, we know for a fact that Lost Souls inhabiting a body can steal their memories. You know that one py, As, Father Never Came Home?"

  "No," Gus answered honestly, while the Knight affirmed he had. He looked utterly disgusted, and turned that look on Gus.

  "Right. I'll summarize. It's a story about a man who goes to war, dies, and his body is taken by a nasty Lost Soul. Does all kinds of terrible things, most of them not fit for polite conversation. The worst part is how he kills the daughter in the ending. He's talking to her sweetly like the father who doted on her, all while dismembering her. The Illusionist earned his pay, but I could have done without the pig's blood."

  Gus stared at the man, his face disgusted.

  "It was an infamous py, which is why everyone who could watched it at least once. You know how it is. A captivating horror, I think they call it these days?" He shrugged. "Anyways, it's based on a true story. So, you can understand why I'd be wary of accepting your testimony."

  "An Oath?" he asked.

  "The dead cannot take Oaths," the Knight answered.

  "But, I did take one. Lady Regret—" He winced as the Oath warned him. "Fuck. Wasn't supposed to say that."

  The agent from the Ministry looked surprised. "Um, so… I've never heard of a Lady Regret, but that's not really my area. No one from the Ministry of Gods was avaible at this hour. You aren't allowed to talk about her?"

  "Nope. Part of the Oath."

  "I see. Probably some accursed necromancer pying games. We should send him on to the temple and be done with it." He grimaced. "Still, I would like to see this matter concluded successfully. I mean, he was obviously murdered."

  There was silence for a moment, the agent mulling things over while Gus sat waiting. Gus frowned, looking at his fingers as his dried skin split. "I'm getting worse, aren't I?"

  "You are," the Knight said. "Bodies don't decay that fast. You look a week or more dead, not a day."

  "Well, I was told I had until the morning," Gus sighed. "You wanna just burn my body? I mean, I've done all I wanted to, and doesn't seem like I can help you all that much."

  The two of them stared at him bnkly.

  "You are volunteering to be set on fire?" the agent asked.

  "I don't think decapitation will do it, honestly," Gus said. "Kinda curious what'd happen, to tell the truth. But, the point is, I'm dead. I can't get deader, can I?" He shrugged. "Nothing hurts, so why should I care?"

  The Knight and agent looked at each other, and shrugged.

  "If you're going to behead him, let's call everyone together. It'll be a show, at least."

  "If you're going to make it a show, get people to toss in some coin, yeah. I owe Sally, Sir Knight. I'd like a chance to pay."

  "How much is it?" the agent asked.

  "A steel coin," Gus said.

  "That much?!" the agent excimed. "She must've really liked or hated you."

  "Think it's both… too much to ask for?"

  "No, I'll cover it. Let's get who we can together."

  It was a show. The people watched as, after the head was parted from the body, he stumbled drunkenly after it. Once he had his head back, he walked around well enough while carrying it. He could no longer speak, though.

  After the novelty wore off, they burned his body. Gus was met by the ghost of a young, strong man. He was led back to Lady Regret, to tell her what he had down.

  The case was closed when Prat turned himself in the next day after a night full of nightmares. Marco accompanied him.