The night was young and filled with the howling of things that went bump in the night.
Your every footfall was impossibly light as you strode through the city, adorned in fresh clothing, a clean shirt, a waistcoat, fine trousers and well made boots. You were a long way from your little kingdom, a long way from the wooden throne that looked out over the fields that were your domain. You were a long way from your subjects, though you knew that you could call them in an instant and that they would be there within moments.
You didn't need your subjects, however.
You had never needed them.
One such as yourself was capable of greater feats than every one of them put together, capable of destroying the indestructible, killing the unkillable. You were the king of the dead, you were the bringer of the end. There was nothing that was safe from you, yet you had no reason to simply destroy everything that you came across. Only an idiot would do such a thing, only one completely misguided by the power they possessed would seek to assert such crude dominance over the world around them by turning it into a dead planet.
Besides, you had your duty.
You had a task to carry out that was more important than rendering this world inert.
Your task however, had to wait, as you had an old associate to visit, you had one in this city who you knew would be interested in the news that you brought to speak with. You had business to attend, business that would go ahead if this associate of yours liked it or not. You were certain that he would be thrilled to see you, that he would give you as warm a welcome as ever, that he would tell you how this time he was strong enough, this time he would destroy you. He was predictable, to the point where you were certain that you could hold the conversation by yourself, while he watched in shock and confusion, before lying about how he wouldn't have said that.
He couldn't lie to you, he had never been good at it.
You had yet to meet somebody that could lie to you for that matter, yet to find somebody who knew how to fool you in such a manner. It was impossible to lie to you, as you were able to see the manner in what the colours of their soul shimmered as they attempted to hide such deception, you were able to see the swirling discolourations that faded into nothingness.
You had never liked the fact that people felt that compulsive need to lie, to portray things in a manner that was anything other than honest. You could understand adding colour to something, playing up details to make it more entertaining to hear about, but outright deception was just not something you enjoyed dealing with.
You paused as you heard a series of overlapping howls echoing from the nearby alley ways, noting quickly from the emerging pattern of colours, oily colours like a rainbow fallen on water that this was a tainted creature, one of the ones the humans had dubbed cerberus to be exact. You had no use for names, no requirement for such tags, yet you had adopted that system of associative tags, of naming things in such a manner because it was required of you. Your master had required you to be able to communicate as such, as he himself could not see the colours of the world, of the soul as you could.
The creature howled at you as it caught sight of you, though you did little more to dignify that threat it attempted to pose, than to turn and look at it. You were disinterested, where as once these creatures had excited you, had thrilled you to have the chance to identify the colours of. They were nothing new now, unlike humans. Unlike those hairless apes who's very nature had so many colours present, so many souls to catalogue, so many differences that even now, gave you subtle variances, unusual mixes.
Your favourites were people that were typically referred to as lunatics, people who's colours swirled chaotically, never quite aligning in one manner or another. In some cases, they referred to these people as suffering a soul sickness, yet they couldn't have been further from the truth. It wasn't the soul that was sick, it was the body and mind, and the soul was merely a means to identify it.
Your eyes met with its eyes, eyes that this thing quickly found itself reluctant to gaze within, eyes that had this thing back down, tail between its legs as it whimpered. It was no suprise that it was afraid, as you knew that it was more sensetive than humans, that it was more than likely aware of what it had just encountered, what it had just managed to escape from with its life.
Ahead you could see the form of the church that was your target as clear as if it were daylight. Clearer, actually. You could see the world in ways that humans couldn't, you didn't limit yourself to the perception of form based on what visible light was reflected from the surface of things. There was something else ahead though, something more within your realm.
The departed.
A procession of river maidens, carrying the body of what appeared to be a teenage child.
Your hands reached up as you moved to the side of the street, removing a bowler hat that had previously been absent, lowering it down to your chest respectfully as you bowed your head. The mournful dirge of the rivermaidens voices echoed out like a eulogy to the life of one who's end had come before their fated time. There were too many factions in this city, too many groups all vying for power, too many acting in manners that were tearing the tapestry of fate asunder, loose threads unravelling from it.
You were going to have to redouble your efforts.
You had to finish working on the final solution.
You listened to the dirge of the river maidens carefully as you discerned that this child was destined to have become a figure of great importance, that they would have inspired great things, that they would have lead people against a tide of corruption. You could also hear mentions of the same faction that you had come out here to talk with your old friend over, the same faction that had recently awakened. Too many factions, too many people vying against all that was fated to be, and here you were, your hands bound to work within the confines of fate by your boss.
The last thing you wished to be forced to do, was awaken your boss.
As the procession passed by, your hand squeezed inward as you crushed the hat you held, before casting it aside as you approached the gates of the church, knowing that for you of all people, your friend couldn't possibly say no to showing hospitality, to making an appearance for you. The gates opened noiselessly despite how rusted their hinges were, your hands pushing as you swung them open, striding up the overgrown path as the grass beneath your feet barely seemed to bend as you trampled it.
The church doors swung open much the same, while you smiled to see the white winged figure that you had expected waiting there, having no doubt sensed your approach. "Jack!" he screamed as he raised one hand, as a flash of light filled the air and in its place a javelin remained. You barely reacted as his hand darted forward, as the javelin hit your chest square on, as it pierced through the body you possessed and exited out your back.
Straw fluttered to the ground as that weapon passed through your body, as the illusion of humanity was dispelled.
"While in these holy grounds, you will show your true face, straw man," snarled the figure, while you merely looked down at your chest, putting your finger through the hole in the shirt as you attempted to fish out the button that you felt had been lost within your chest. "And to what do I owe the displeasure of you crawling out of your hole to visit me?"
"I didn't crawl out a hole, I walked. You should try it some time. What name are you going by this time, anyway?" he was one of the few people in this world that you would not address with your usual politeness, no title given to this figure, no respect.
"What name?" he snapped, looking offended as he folded his arms over his chest. "I am still Michael, as I have always been, as I always have been."
"No, that isn't right. You're-"
"Silence!" he roared, while you merely grinned. Or at least you would have, had you a face capable of doing so currently. "You wouldn't come here, risking your inevitable destruction merely for the chance to irritate me further on what has been a night I would have desired to forget before you arrived, and wished never happened after you did. What game are you playing, Jack?"
"You know, you had a procession of the maidens carrying one of the dead outside just?" you started, tilting your head as you gestured towards the door. "The song they had to sing was one of another severed thread, another part of the tapestry of fate unravelling. They knew the culprits though, they named them. Ghouls. Does that not worry you?"
Michael turned pale as he swallowed, ripples of colours visible as something you clearly attributed to fear showed itself. "Yeah, that's right, you know that when the ghouls awaken, that their masters are not far behind," you stated, turning towards the door as you started on your way out, pausing only briefly to look back at him as the illusion of flesh once more crept over your body, a mouth now present to move in synchronisation to the words that you spoke. "By the way, they almost killed your little Judas. I have no idea why they would want to do a thing like that, naturally."
Your laughter echoed into the night as those sarcastic words rang in the mans ears.