I managed to roll over enough to look up at the owner of the fancy shoes. He was a large six foot six broad shouldered man wearing a finely tailored suit in different shades of black and gray that seemed to move, granted that could have been my vision swimming from loss of blood. A black and gold paisley tie with a sapphire tie tack contrasting well with the suit. The man slowly started squatting down to look at me. I couldn't help but take a startled breath. Coughing blood and grimacing in discomfort.
The man had short curly hair, So black it was almost blue, An equally dark save for a white streak down the middle van dyke style beard groomed perfectly, framed his jaw. But deep purple eyes and ovoid slightly too large pupils were what had caused me to gasp. Like he had had an accident at the optometrist during a dilation test. And the purple seemed to glow luminal but somehow infinitely dark at the same time. His already olive skin is somehow darker than it should be, something was off about it. Then it clicked in my blood loss addled brain, My discarded weapon light cast directly on him and it appeared the man was wearing his shadow instead of casting it. Purple eyes staring into the depths of my soul. The man was huge. I was no small fry at over six feet myself but even on my back I knew he dwarfed me. While looking him over I noticed his suit jacket and the grays were indeed moving through it in smokey patterns.
"You need to undo the bottom button. When there are two it's always buttoned on the top. Never on the bottom. Sometimes is only when there are three buttons."
The big guy looked startled then cocked his head quizzically at me. Then threw his head back and laughed. A rich booming laugh that was somehow quiet, and echoing at the same time. Like he was in a cavern and I was at the entrance to it hearing his real time laugh and the echo at the same time.
"Sorry" he said when the composed himself. His voice was quiet and near, but far and echoing. Maybe it was the blood loss.
"Not many people would think of giving fashion tips when I suddenly appear to them in a dire moment such as this. You are an interesting existence Mr. Vega." He stated.
"Yeah well if you are my escort to the other side gotta have you looking your best. Doesn't hurt to build a good rapport." I wheezed out.
"You know then, that you are dying. No questions? No begging?" He asked, again quizzically tilting his head to his side like a puppy hearing an obscure noise.
"Begging isn't my thing. Only begged a few times and it didn't help them. And yeah I know I'm dying." I said. My voice is stronger somehow now. Probably my body's final push before the black took me.
"How?" He asked simply.
"Well those guys perforated me a few times. Hit some important organs I think." I said blandly. "I don't know if you magic angel folk have those."
He curled a small smile on one side of his mouth, raising one brow at me.
"You also know I'm not mortal. How is that? How do you know you are dying?"
"No pain. Pain is for the living. And you appeared out of nowhere while I was bleeding on the floor, so you are obviously the ferryman or angel taking me to oblivion or hell or whatever."
He looked at me silently for a moment. Then he reached out a hand. I took it expecting one of those cartoon moments where my soul would slough out of the meat suit leaving me a colorless shade, but surprisingly I got up on my feet. Blood is still leaking out of my wounds. Slower now. Like black and red syrup.
Rough. I thought to myself.
The giant walked around me. Then gently but insistently pulled me into the light of my still discarded weapon. Then he looked at my shadow. He waved a purple glowing hand and my shadow rose up on its own accord. Suddenly alive and taking on features reminding me of a shadow puppet show, sans puppets, but it played out way too fast for me to follow along. I recognised some scenery sprawling out in the shape of a familiar house. It was my life. This bastard was watching my life a thousand times fast forward to some type of final judgment I guessed.
"Show off" I muttered.
He spared me a small smile and a shake of his head. But otherwise I kept watching.
"You are proficient in violence. You would have been an excellent soldier."
"I had asthma, wasn't allowed." I stated blandly wincing at the implications of the judge of my life commenting on my proficiency in less than peaceful arts.
"You still did soldier duties" he said, pausing the shadow show on a scene in the middle of a desert landscape. Small stone structures surrounding two men standing at the entrance to a long hall type building made of the same stone as surrounding buildings.
"Private security. No training or fancy uniforms or gear, but pays more."
The scene played out. I looked away. Knowing what was coming.
The man on the left side suddenly fell over. Then a group of five men, one of the small shadows holding an AK forty seven with a broken stock, came around another building running toward them. The remaining man held his ground. Shooting at the five men coming, starting with the man with the broken gun. until they were all down. Then a group of seven more men came around from another building, closer to the two original men. Catching the man still standing while he was reloading, the man jams the barrel of his rifle into the throat of the first opponent to reach him. The shadowy figures dogpiled him after that. The fight seemingly over, Then one man in the pile went flying away after he was mule kicked by the defender.
One by one the defender dislodged opponents. Finally getting to a pistol and firing several times, dropping a few of the shadowy forms. Then the figure ran over to the fallen figure and picked him up and started wandering down the night streets of an abandoned african village.
"The other man was dead" the puppet master stated more than asked.
"Yeah. Bullet entered under one eye and out his brain stem, the broken gun could only fire one shot. But it was enough." I choked out, tears falling freely down my cheeks. Not needing the shadow reenactment to recall every detail of that day it was one frequented every few nights.
"You carried him away anyway?" The questions continued.
"Yeah I promised Donovan I would take him home no matter what."
"You risked your life for a promise to a dead man. Do you think the dead care for oaths made while living?" He asked a very serious, almost grim look cast over his face. Like the answer was very important for some reason.
"I do." I started without hesitation. "I don't make promises lightly. And I keep them all." "At least as much as i can.". I wiped at my eyes, anger tinting my voice and curbing my sadness.
"More than that. The promise meant something to me. If I had not kept it, I would have left something of myself behind."
He nodded sagely as if that made perfect sense to him. The shadow show resumed. This time seeming much faster, maybe one hundred thousand plus times fast forward suddenly stopping again on yet another tragic scene.
The scene was unfortunately yet unsurprisingly another that was burned in my memory. A facility surrounded by two sets of gates and chain link fences tipped with razor wire that I knew would usually, at this time or day, seemingly glowing a pinkish hue reflecting the red light of dawn, now just inky shadow but no less imposing. Towers on every one of the four corners. A sign at the front entrance would usually mark it as Eastern New Mexico state department of corrections facility.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
In the south east gate a tall broad shouldered man stood at ease. A wooden stock mini fourteen rifle casually shouldered over one arm.
Suddenly an alarm blares. Unheard radio communications were flying rapidly, only known because the small black figures ran around like a disturbed ant hill. The entire facility suddenly boiled over with activity. The broad shouldered man in the tower received a phone call. Shoulders tightened visibly as he hung up. Methodically checking the rifles chamber and aiming out low ready into the no man's land between the two fences in his field of fire.
The blur of activity continued. Figures made of aqueous shadow either running around or laying face down on the ground arms spread and legs crossed at the knees in any visible open area.
Suddenly a single figure could be seen running through the no man's land in the broad shouldered mans field of vision. The man cocked his head listening to an earpiece in his left ear, aimed out shooting off a shot into a black square on a hillock that would have been orange in real life, with black painted words indicating warning shots should be fired there.
The broad shouldered man immediately moving to track the running figure. Taking in a deep breath and holding the rifle steady. Forefinger resting along the trigger guard. A radio only I could hear, whether from memory or whatever magic the giant angle or whatever he was had wrought.
"Tower two convict has disregarded the warning shot prepared to fire. Lethal force is authorized."
The big shadow figure moved his finger into the trigger well, lightly touching the pad of a finger to the trigger. Still holding breath, the tension in his shoulders about to bust out of his scapula like the black ooze of an untreated cyst.
"Tower two."
Almost simultaneously the single word given with prosper grim authority and a single shot.
"Fire!" BOOM
One second the small shadow figure had been running. The next it was face down sprawled out in the sand and gravel. A dark mist hanging in the air, the image had haunted me many years except the slight yet clearly visible mist crimson red instead of inky black.
"You did not hesitate, you did your duty, even though it cost you to do so, even though you thought it wrong to shoot an unarmed man in the back.". The man said to himself.
"That's it? You watch my life and take me to hell?" I asked, anger, and fear rising. Is it necessary to show me all my worst memories? The whole thing was bullshit. He had shot a man in the back, and all anyone ever told him about it was that it was a "good shot."
He completely ignored me. Just silently watching for what seemed like an eternity. I looked around. Cops and EMTs should have been here by now. Then I looked at the bodies I had made. The three men who had been killed lay in pools of blood but the pools weren't growing or moving out.
"Oh" I said dispassionately, having separated myself from emotion after seeing the death I had once again wrought while trying to protect people.
"You stopped time. Or slowed our perception of it. That seems a bit beyond Angel power. But what do I know? Maybe all angels can do it."
I turned around to find the shadow man almost immediately behind me. Startling the hell out of me. A big guy should not be able move so quietly!
"The later" he stated. Then asked "how did you know?"
"It just made sense. Its been almost 50 minutes since I came in. Even APD with their shit response time should be here much less my guys. Captain and a whole slew of patrol guys should be here by now."
"You casually deducted that? After having died, and been shown memories you find distatefull, after having just literally killed and been killed yourself?"
"Yeah I guess. I did what i did, and what happened happened. I cant change it and 'm already dead. I've known for a long time where I was going after my life. The magic stuff is interesting. We mortals don't have that but its always been a fascinating what if for me."
"Mortals can access magic. It's just rare. But there are plenty of semi-mortals who are of magical natures wandering your world."
My shoulders slumped.
"There was real magic this whole time and I had no idea?" I asked morosely, shoulders slumping .
"You seem more upset about the magic than your death." One blue black eyebrow lifting almost to his hairline, "I find that interesting."
"I mean I've been close to death over a hundred times. I'm an idiot with a hero complex and not a lot to live for. I've been ready to die for quite some time. Magic being real and obtainable would have been a game changer. "
"That is up to you." He shrugged. A genuine, perfect smile spreading across his lips. "This does not have to be the end of your story. I'm here to make you an offer not to escort you to the afterworld."
"An...offer?" I asked dumbly. "Who are you?"
"I had many names over the milenia. Hades might be the most familiar to you, and the one i used longest" He said his hands were at the small of his back. Shoulders back head tilted as if in a lecture hall full of students instead of just me.
"Hades huh. God of the underworld and wealth. I mean I dont get why my death warrants the special attention of a Greek god, I never worshiped you, I was a Catholic. If you are Hades shouldn't Thanatos, at least take me to you if you had an offer. I don't even have coins for the ferryman?"
Still in his lecture pose he smiled at me again and curiously tilted his head.
"You are well versed in your mortal stories of us. Unfortunately for us some of those are truer than I'd like to admit."
"I mean don't get me wrong you were one of my favorite gods in those mythology. your brothers were kind of frat boy jerks. But you never did anything. No crazy out of hand stories. I know people fear you. But really all you did was judge them for their own lives and choices. But either way, why me?. I'm a nobody from New Mexico , a bottom of that totem pole security guard yet a Greek god comes to my death personally?"
"Not exactly true." He said, shaking his head. Still standing in what I had dubbed proctor mode. "You see, while magical beings and gods from across the multiverse are real and living side by side with the mortal realm here on this earth, so too are the Villains, monsters, demons, and fell beasts of every mythology. They are all out there and they all prey on humans for various reasons."
The big man suddenly stopped and turned to look into a shadowy corner I couldn't make out anything in the deep dark of the shadow
"Ah interesting." "I take it, you know this human little one?" . A bright smile lit his face in a way that was so supernaturally handsome it hurt to look at. I frantically tore my gaze off of the too perfect face like I had forgotten to look away from a lightbulb I was screwing in.
"What? Who knows me? Who is there?" I spluttered out blinking rapidly, not enjoying my display of weakness.
I finally regained my composure to look up. And immediately go weak in the knees the puppetless shadow show bringing up a scene of the small shdowy image of a broad shouldered man clearing a house searching for something or someone
This time the shadow version of me was accompanied by a black four legged form. A sleek muscled chest leading into the streamlined waist of a large doberman with cropped ears and tail. His name had been Titan and he was the best, truest friend I ever had. I openly wept now. Knowing the scene that was playing out could only end in tragedy and sadness. With the broad shouldered hunter finding his prey and tackling him to the ground, the four legged shadow immediately stood over them in a place to watch his handler no, his friends, back as he secured the escaped convict his security agency had been hired to find. Then the shadowy form of the convict's brother coming around the corner aiming an old double barrel shotgun leveled at the head of the little shadow version of me.
I remembered looking up. Seeing down the seemingly endless black barrels, into the angry, crazed eyes of the man. I saw the moment Titan started towards him in those eyes. I remember the slow motion as the barrels swung up and left towards the K9, and Titans last powerful leap. The boom and sudden mist of red. The impact as a stray ball of buck shot hit my trauma plate knocking me backward. My poor boy didn't even have time to cry or whimper. Suddenly and violently removed from this world. The shadow me rolled backward with the impact of the shot tucking shoulders and rolling up on its feet once more the little shadow man withdrew his Glock 20 sidearm, lining up the shot and coldly three forty five caliber rounds in quick succession barked out into the chest of the man, not caring that his two barrel shotgun gun was empty. Only numb rage that the man had killed my nearest, dearest friend. He took him from me so I claimed his life, the little recompense that it was.
I more than cried now. I openly wept. Shoulders racking sobbing escaping me. Still instinctually reaching down to the spot where titans head would have rested at my hip.
Hades watched me with sympathetic sadness like he knew my pain. But with a smile he said "you have a good friend. He watches over you still. I feel like he wants you to know he is there." His hand again glowing purple as he made a gesture like he was pulling a dust cover off of a piece of furniture.
Suddenly my hand wasn't empty. It had a familiar shape I had longed for the feel of for over a decade. There sat Titan. His usually black fur is even darker, seemingly luminescent rainbows like the ones seen in oil spilled on a sidewalk reflecting sun.