Chapter Two: Tonight, We Dine In Hell

**A/N: I would like to clear up one thing that could possibly be confusing later. Braiden is NOT dead. He's alive and 100% living, breathing human and is merely carrying out Death's orders. :)

Braiden awoke to see himself in a very cold, very dark, and very damp place. Peering to his sides, all he could see was jagged rock and he realized he was sitting on something that was making his good pants wet with some sort of slimy and foul smelling liquid. He cautiously looked down, nearly screaming when he saw a cadaver. Its skin was pale and slimy, the pull of gravity causing the liquid to fall into the darkness below. He was nauseous and Braiden clinched his eyes shut, trying to breathe through his mouth. Unfortuantly for him, the smell seemed to manifest itself as a taste and he could feel it in his mouth. He was never one to panic and under normal circumstances, he was very proud of that fact. However, this wasn’t a normal circumstance and Braiden was suddenly very, very afraid. He figured Death had taken his life and he was in hell now, hanging out on a rotting corpse. It was definitely a way to die, he figured, running his palms across the tops of his pants. He could have gone out in style though, in a hand to hand fight, or a bomb, or something. Leave it to Death to pick the most boring, pathetic way to die, right?

He fell forward, eyes widening as he realized that he was falling. Falling into a black, dark abyss and suddenly, he began to claw at the air in hopes of grabbing a body. Unfortunately for Braiden, he missed and all he was trying to grab was freezing cold air.

**

It was suddenly very warm again and Braiden open his eyes slowly, breathing in air he realized didn’t smell as terrible. “God.” He groaned, blinking once, twice and then looking around. Although he now reeked of rotting corpse, Braiden was thankful to not be surrounded by stone and black. Instead, he was greeted with a homely if not rather macabre room with Death sitting across from him, smiling cheerily with his hands spread in welcome. “Welcome to the Underworld, Braiden. I do hope Rosalie didn’t scare you too much.” Braiden didn’t reply; he merely stared and yanked his jacket closer, gagging at the scent of flesh that seemed to intensify as his jacket got closer to his body. “If you’re going to throw up, I suggest not doing it on this rug. It’s made from human hair. Perhaps you should vomit in that plant over there. If I remember correctly, it enjoys any part of a human it can get.” Without a second thought, Braiden stood up and made his way to the plant and within seconds was puking his guts out into the plant and when he finished, he stood back and nearly started vomiting again when he saw that the plant indeed was eating it. He pivoted around, eyes shut and when he opened them, he noticed the lampshades.

Now, Braiden wasn’t a very girly man, he just happened to be a rather good interior designer. Unfortunately, these odd lampshades were NOT something that was considered normal and he got the urge to redecorate. “What kind of lampshades are these?” He asked, making his way over to one. He bent closer, marveling at the texture and he reached out to run his fingers over it to see if it was indeed as smooth as it looked. He rather liked the soft golden, warm glow they gave off and he made a mental note to order some if he ever saw some.

Death beamed at his question, thin lips widening in an even wider smile. “Skin.” He stated, cheerfully. “Human skin.” Braiden froze, his fingers mere centimeters away from the lampshade’s surface and he suddenly yanked his hand away, nauseous feeling returning.

“What the hell!” He exclaimed, blue eyes flashing as he turned to look at his captor. “Are you a fucking Nazi? Why the hell’d you kidnap me for? Let me go home!”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Death replied, leaning back in his chair. He motioned for Braiden to sit down before he continue speaking, voice soft and amiable. “You shouldn’t know about Nazis, Bray. Nazis were erased back in 2010. You know that. That sort of talk is forbidden but you obviously don’t care, now do you.” Braiden could feel his hands clenched into tight fists as he forced himself to settle back the chair he had been offered.

“Fuck you.” He snapped, suddenly dropping them to his legs. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Your question isn’t relevant right now, Braiden.” Death sighed, runninh long, white fingers through his dark hair making the long strands stand up and fall messily. “You can see me. You are job-sitting. It’s only fair that I give you the rundown of everything.”

Braiden sighed, shutting his eyes and reaching up to squeeze the bridge of his nose, before opening them and giving Death an even look. “You couldn’t do this at my home why?” Death laughed a sharp, bone chilling laugh and Braiden immediately stiffened.

“Because what’s the fun in that? At least I can keep you here until you’ve heard me out!”

“Get on with it.” Braiden sighed, leaning back against his leather chair cautiously. In his mind, he figured it was the dead skin of babies or children or something equally as gruesome. Death leaned forward, planting his elbows on his desk and intertwined his fingers before gently placing his chin on them.

“I am going to be training you in my art. The art of killing. Legally. I have millions of people like you walking around and you, Braiden, are going to have so much fun in this town.” Death chuckled and suddenly reached into his coat, pulling out a thick, leather bound book. “This book lists the names of every person who will die in the next thousand years. That’s how long your duty will last if you were a full-fledged Death, like I am. However, yours will only last a few years while I’m vacationing in Florida. This book tells you the name and address of the person, their age and how you are to still their heart. If it’s in the middle of a war, you’ll have a small incantation to say and you’ll be able to kill by reading their name and their lives will come to you and you will eat them. Then, they will end up here. In the Underworld.” Braiden blinked, lifting an eyebrow. Death continued to speak. “Of course, you should know that once I return, you have a choice of staying here and dying or having every single memory of your time as Death erased.” Braiden didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, his mind was focused on the room’s decoration. He was mentally matching colors to colors and colors to furnishings when Death suddenly coughed. “Any questions, Braiden?”

“Nah.” He stated, before pausing. “Am I allowed to redecorate?” Death’s lips were turned up into a wry smile.

“No.”

“Are you sure? I think a pale shade of blue would look great in here.”

“I said no. You are not going to be staying here in my little home, Braiden. You will be working out of yours. Now. In fifteen minutes, you and I are going to go on your first assignment. I’ll only force you on one or two tonight; once you taste a life, you’ll never want food again.” Braiden sighed, nodding, knowing full well that he would be forced to participate, whether or not he wanted to. He was about to stand and try to run when icy fingers wrapped around his wrist and the face of Death was very, very close. “Running won’t accomplish anything, Mr. Harper.” He said, grip tightening. “But if you cooperate, I can promise you that things will run very, very smoothly. And believe me, smooth is what you want when you’re killing.” With one last cocky smile, Death yanked him forward and Braiden’s first job was about to begin.