I was beginning to feel more like a zombie than a living being. I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating, and I wasn’t doing… other things… I looked completely disheveled, my clothes were torn and still had blood on them. It was a disgusting feeling, or really lack thereof, as I still couldn’t feel any physical sensation.

There wasn't anything to do either, my productivity level had hit an all-time low. The list of things separating me from life was growing every second I thought about it.

"Mr. Carroll." There was a knock on my door. I knew the voice instantly, but I didn't mind. I was that bored.

"Come in," I sighed. "You don't need to knock, it's not like you did before."

"I only knock because I know you appreciate your privacy." Death said with an even voice as he stepped in.

"That, and you know I'm still having trouble adjusting and it's a pathetic method of returning a meager sense of normalcy." I was feeling bold. If boredom had done anything good, it was ease my fear.

"Do you think that I care that much?"

"You cared enough to knock." I laughed.

"You are very perceptive, though you are not as smart as you might think. I came to talk to you because I have a job you might be interested in taking. Any motive of aiding in your transition to my employ is merely coincidental."

"If you're here for your fix of reading for the two months, I hope you like poetry, because I have about a million poems."

"I will take those, but I want you to do something else as well." The word "want" caught my attention. He was being oddly polite. This was probably what Amy had told me to look out for.

"What do you have in mind?" I did my best not to sound obviously cautious.

"I am a well-known figure among contractors. My... associates... are also well known. Except you." I didn't like where this was going. "Do not look so panicked Mr. Carroll, I am not going to ask you to do anything dangerous. All I want you to do is walk into a certain establishment and have a drink."

"Non-alcoholic of course." I chuckled. I was still under the drinking age and would be pretty much forever. Not that laws really mattered now.

"Of course. I would not want you to grow any more senseless than you already have." He flashed his yellow smile. He had to keeping it that way on purpose. If the doctor could heal a severe stab wound with a bandage, Death could use a special whitening strip to fix those teeth in a heartbeat. It was probably an intimidation thing, although I think the effect was wearing off.

“So that’s it then, you want me to go and get a drink?” Was there some kind of special drink he needed that he couldn’t get himself? Ambrosia juice maybe? Not that he need it, he probably had enough souls to stay young forever. Maybe he wanted me to get him some mouthwash.

“Well, go in, get a drink and do your best to stay out of the way after that. I also would not want you to end up dealing with that wretched doctor again.” His expression when he mentioned the doctor made me think he genuinely hated him. “So how about it?”

“Sure...” I hummed. “Why not, it’s not like I have much else to do now.”

“Good choice, Albert. Now how about you get up off the ground and come along so we can get you some decent clothing?” I had almost forgotten that I’d been laying on the floor the entire time.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Albert... how can I put this politely... you look filthy.” How polite. “The least I can do is get you some decent clothing after that trouble with Amy. You do know we have a washroom, yes?” His nostrils were beginning to twitch. I hadn’t bothered to care about how I smelled, so I hadn’t noticed how obviously bad it was. I was more relieved that I could smell at all.

“Right... I hadn’t felt the need to look around for one.” I couldn’t help but sound accusing.

“Of course...” He paused for a second, his expression granted no hints as to what he was thinking. “I will send someone to get you some decent clothing, you should wash up in the meantime. Try to make it quick, we are on a tight schedule.”

---------------

It had taken me a total of thirty minutes to clean up. It was twenty-five more than I normally took, but necessary. I was still surprised that whoever it was Death sent to get me new clothes got them before I was done and had done it without making a noise. They were also the perfect size and were the style and brands I would buy if I'd had the money. The amount of personal information these people had on me was beginning to creep me out.

There was another knock on my door just as I finished changing clothes. I would have suspected there to be cameras but that seemed too technological. The door opened before I could answer.

"They look good on you." Hope said admiringly. "Good thing too, they weren't cheap."

"He sent you to get me clothes?” I had a feeling that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I volunteered, any excuse to go shopping.”

“Of course.” I sighed. “I get the impression it won’t be the last time you use me to get some time outside.”

“Nope.” She seemed completely fine saying it. At least it meant she was invested in keeping me safe... or alive at the very least.

“So when am I leaving?” I wasn’t exactly nervous to be doing Death’s dirty work so much as I was nervous being around people again now that I was... different.

“In a second.” Death stepped into the room. “I would like to go over some of the finer details of this little operation before we depart.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You are about to walk into a dangerous place and you must first agree that you are in full control of your actions and will take full responsibility for them. Do you accept this verbal contract?”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Sure.” I yawned.

“You will be going to a place called McGregor's. When you approach the building the sign will say closed, however, you will knock on the door five times. When someone comes to tell you that the establishment is closed, ask to talk to the bartender. They will let you in. When the bartender asks you what you want, say the McGregor Special. He should let you into the back room. Once you are in the back room, use the first inconspicuous chance you get open this,” Death handed me a briefcase, the kind that needed a combination to open. “The combination is four four four, four four four. Once it is open, I would advise stepping away.”

His instructions seemed much more dangerous now that he was getting into it. I had agreed to walk into a place and get a drink, now I was entering a secret back room at a bar, opening a questionable briefcase, and hiding. What else was I going to do though? Lie on the floor in my room and regret signing that contract? Some excitement would be welcome.

“Sounds simple enough.” I said taking the briefcase. “So when are we go...” Death grabbed me by the shoulder and I was on a sunlit city street in an area I didn’t recognize. The natural bright lighting caught me off guard and it took me a while before I adjusted from the dim glow of a lantern to the sun.

“McGregor’s is down the road a bit, it should be easy enough to find.” He gave me a push and was gone.

I took a step down the sidewalk and stopped. A hand grabbed my hair and ruffled it up.

“Trust me, it looks better this way.” It was Hope. I turned around to protest but she disappeared with a smile as soon as I caught sight of her.

I didn’t have to go much further before I saw McGregor's. It didn’t exactly stick out, but it didn’t really blend with the rest of the buildings on the street either. It looked like it’d been there before the rest of the city, but it was still in the style of the surrounding buildings. Or they were in the style of McGregor's. Either way, I found it, and I was having second thoughts. I stuck my hand out tentatively and knocked five times on the old wooden door, careful not get splinters of wood stuck in my hand, not that it would hurt. The door creaked open slightly and someone poked an eye out.

“We’re closed kid.” The voice was gruff.

“I need to speak to the barkeep.” I blurted out just before the door closed in my face. The door opened all the way and I was pulled in by a large hand.

The inside of McGregors was dimly lit. Coming in from a sunny street back into a dark room was not helping my eyesight, it didn’t take long to adjust though. It looked like a typical dive with a bar, though the bar was a bit large. The only thing that really stood out to me was the sheer size of the man that had opened the door as well as that of the bartender. Both looked about six-eight, three hundred something pounds, and muscular enough to crush me with just one hand.

“What do you want kid?”

“McGregor special, if you'd be so kind.” The bar keeper turned and pulled the lever on a tap labeled “special”. The floor rumbled slightly and the bar keeper gestured for me to walk around behind the bar.

It felt awkward to be behind the bar and I could tell he didn't like me being there either. A section of the floor had been moved aside revealing a rickety looking staircase into what must have been the bar’s basement. I quickly walked around the bartender and down the stairs, careful not to put too much weight on them at once. The light from the restaurant above dimmed and disappeared behind me as I reached the bottom. I was left in the dark for only a second before my eyes adjusted to the even fainter light of the cellar. I was just outside what looked like another bar, only smaller, more populated, and everyone looked about the same size as the two men that had been in the bar upstairs. I’d have been scared to death if I hadn’t met Death first. Size only mattered if you also considered the pain that could be inflicted by that size, which I no longer did.

“Hey, shrimp!” A man shouted from one of the tables. "You lost?" He sounded a bit jeering, but that seemed normal coming from someone his size. I honestly didn't mind, I’d been starved for conversation.

“McGregor's den right? Best deals around, or so I hear." It took me too long to realize what Death had had me walk into. I was infiltrating another contractor's den for him.

"Best deals anywhere kid.”

“Then I’m in the right place,” I walked over to his table and sat down opposite him, placing the briefcase on the ground at my side. “Because I want to make a deal. So wha…”

“Hold on a second, kid.” The man had burst out laughing and the small crowd that had gathered around joined in. “I can’t be sure that your soul is worth my time, and frankly I don’t think it is, but I would love to see you try and prove me wrong.”

“What can I do to show you that I’m worth your time then? Because I really want to make this deal happen.” I had no idea what I was doing. I needed an excuse to open the briefcase in as unassuming of a manner as possible, and making a deal seemed as good an excuse as any.

“I’ve always said that the truest measure of a man’s worth can be determined by their constitution and their stubbornness.” A dark chuckle emanated from the group around us. “So are you stubborn enough to take me on for this deal you want so badly?”

“Bring it.” I flashed a wicked smile. That was all on the surface though, I was bluffing out of my mind and I was digging my own grave deeper and deeper. I was losing control of the situation and I was extremely nervous.

“That’s rich!” The man burst out laughing even harder than he had before, no one else joined in this time. “I like your spirit shrimp.”

“Does that mean we can skip proving me then?”

“No, it means we do something harder.” He turned to the bartender, who seemed oddly attentive to the commotion. “Owen, two shots of the sharp stuff!” That confused me, I’d heard alcohol called "the hard stuff" but never “sharp”.

The bartender brought over two small glasses filled halfway with clear liquid and set one down in front of each of us. I expected him to go back to the bar but he stayed put with an interested look on his face. He wasn't the only one, it seemed like the rest of the people in the bar had crowded around to see the spectacle. Whatever the spectacle that was about to unfold was anyway.

“Least expressive wins.” The man gestured to the drinks. “Ready?” I followed his movements as he put his hand on his glass and tensed, ready for motion. I got the gist of the game, but I wasn’t sure if I was immune to bad tastes, or if the burn from drinking alcohol was pain or taste. I’d never had any before, I only knew it burned. “Go.”

The glass shot to his lips and I was right behind him. I didn’t taste anything, although I wasn’t sure if I could taste anything anyway. Based on the senses I had that still worked I could only compare the drink to water. It was clear, tasteless, and there was an odd sensation throughout my body that certainly wasn’t a physical feeling. It felt like something was tickling my dead senses. I looked up, blank faced and a bit confused. His face was slightly contorted, but it looked like he was handling it fairly well.

“What!?” The man coughed as his eyes bulged. He seemed sincerely dumbfounded by whatever it was that I’d done. “We both got the same thing right?” He turned to the bartender, who looked just as confused.

“They both came from the same tap… maybe he didn’t swallow it. Check his mouth Shaun.”

“Open your mouth shrimp!” The man reached across the table and grabbed hold of my face and forced my mouth open then recoiled instantly, his hand flecked with blood. I was confused for a second, but then I realized the blood was my own and a vague image of the truth behind the test began to form in my mind.

“That wasn’t really a fair game.” I said spitting the rest of the blood from my mouth. “What was that anyway? Hurt like a knife being shoved down my throat.” I paused as the entirety of the bar stared at me blankly. “Now how about that deal?” Shaun slowly started to laugh and the crowd dissipated.

“Okay, you want to deal, let’s deal.” Shaun pulled a quill and paper from one of his pockets. “You can go back to the bar now, Owen, I’ve got this.” The bartender, who had remained at the table, reluctantly went back to his post. That left the contractor and I to ourselves. Which was exactly what I wanted.

“Let’s get to business then.” I picked up the suitcase and dropped it on the table in front of me. “There’s one thing you should know before we start, though.” I slowly dialed every wheel in to four. “I already have a contractor.” I flipped up the latches on the suitcase and it flew open on its own accord.