THE REAPER ━ Klaus Hargreeves

02. I'd Like That

TWO I'D LIKE THAT

     "Well, today's the day," Vincent sighed, staring at his monitors. He was speaking more out loud to himself as he settled down at his desk with a cup of coffee, but he figured Evangeline was probably listening in anyway. He was correct in this assumption as the girl peeked her head above the cubicle, dark hair falling over the wall between them as she leaned her chin on it.

"Dear old Reggie?" she asked, even though they both knew the answer. Today was the day where it was time for Reginald Hargreeves to bite the dust. "How are you gonna do it?"

"I don't have to do shit, he's gonna induce a heart attack and kill himself," he explained with a shrug as he leaned back in his chair, pushing himself away from the desk so he could look up at the woman. "I don't know why, but I really don't care because he's kind of an asshole. Just kind of a bummer he's doing it like six days before everyone else is gonna die. Like, he might as well go out with a bang like everyone else."

Evangeline groaned at the mention of the oncoming apocalypse, "Ugh, don't remind me about that. I am not happy to be out of a job in a week. I mean, we're immortal, what the fuck else are we supposed to do with our lives? No one likes us so it's not like they can just transfer us to other places in the Commission. I'm gonna kick the ass of whoever decided to end the goddamn world." 

The man had nothing insightful to say about it besides the usual they had both heard a million times before, "Come on, you know no one here is controlling that. Not even The Handler or A.J. controls that shit. We just listen to whatever the universe gives us. That's all we've ever done."

"Says the one who breaks the rules all the time," Evangeline countered, nodding towards the monitor with a sleeping Klaus on it. "Talking to your subject. You know if anyone finds out you're screwed."

"Then please say it literally any louder, my dear," he rolled his eyes, turning back to his monitors. "That's... different. That's pretending to be a ghost. It's not trying to mess up the steady line that is all of time and space. The Commission will decide what to do with us in seven days, but until then all we can do is our jobs. You know this."

The woman gave him a disappointed look, huffing as she leaned her chin against the cubicle barrier. Something else was bothering her, Vincent could tell. All he had to do was give her a pointed look and she gave it up, "I think they're gonna terminate us. Like, terminate. I mean, what the fuck else are they gonna do with us? They can't re-locate the entire department. Even if people survive the apocalypse and repopulate the Earth, that won't be until decades from now and they can't just have us lying dormant for decades. They'll probably just take everyone who died in the apocalypse and make them the new Reapers when the time comes."

Vincent considered her words for a moment and he knows she's probably right, but in all honesty, Vincent doesn't think he'll mind dying. He's been alive since the Commission was formed which was pretty much at the beginning of time itself and all he's done is live and breathe his cubicle and monitors. Maybe it's time to throw in the towel.

"Penny for your thoughts?" the dark-haired woman asked once he's been quiet for too long. Her teeth gnaw on her lip and he knows she's nervous. Everyone's been on edge since they started receiving new lives with the same death dates over and over. 

"We've lived for so long, Eve," Vincent sighed, his voice heavy, "I mean, maybe it's our time to go. We've done our jobs and we've done them well. Not having to live in this cubicle anymore sounds kind of nice. Doesn't it?"

"We can't be friends if we're dead, Vincent," is all she countered with, but the small smile on her face tells him that it's a pitiful attempt at an argument and she knows it. A sigh escaped her lips before she continued, "I don't know. Who knows? Maybe they'll send all of us to Earth once it's all done, let us be the ones to start over. I mean, we've never really gotten a chance to live, have we? We just... watch other people do it for us."

He nodded, "That we do. Maybe they'll just... set us free. That wouldn't be too bad, would it? We could get a place together, make it its own city. Just me and you."

"I'd like that," Evangeline smiled, "It'll never happen, though. The Commission has never valued our emotions. They're totally gonna kill us all."

Vincent laughed at the abrupt change, something they both did when things started to get too dark and dim. In a job where all you do is manage when someone dies, you tend to avoid the darker subjects. Then again, sometimes there isn't much to really talk about besides the dark subjects. Still, it's nice to talk about something happy every now and then. 

"And we will rejoice when they do," he responded with a laugh, turning to his monitor as some of them began waking up. "I wonder what Reginald Hargreeves is going to get up to on his last day of life."

"When do you have to kill him?" Evangeline asked, still poking her nose into Vincent's business. Not that he minded. He knew all of her subjects were in the clear until the end of the week, so it wasn't like she had anything better to do with her time.

"7:02 pm," the man answered, his eyes darting to the clock. "Just under twelve hours. He's getting his morning coffee right now, completely aware of what he's going to do tonight. So weird. I feel like if I knew that was something I was going to do, I would just get it over with."

Evangeline just shrugged, "Maybe he wants to enjoy his last day alive. You don't know. I don't think we'll ever understand Reginald." 

"I don't think so either," he shook his head, "but we don't need to. As long as he's happy with the life he's lived. Such a dick. Those kids deserved better." 

"Everyone alive right now deserves better," Evangeline sighed, her eyes darting back to her own monitors, "All of them going about their lives, looking forward to tomorrow. None of them have any idea that they'll all be dead by next week. Kinda fucked up."

"Oh, it's extremely fucked up," the man agreed, turning back to her, "but what are we gonna do about it?"

She sighed, giving him a weary look that said everything it needed to without words. Silently, he understood her troubled conscious, offering her a small nod in return. The world would end in six days, but tonight, tonight was going to be the night Sir Reginald Hargreeves finally bit the bullet. Vincent couldn't wait.