The skyline of Rome buzzed with the prayers of Sunday night mass. The sky above, pockmarked with clouds, reflected the orange light of the city. It made for an image reminiscent of Dante Alighieri5 – ironic, given the holiness of the locale.
A blonde girl didn’t think it so ironic as she gazed out over the ancient city.
“A city of predators,” she murmured with a sneer.
“Save it for ya blog, Maka,” said the albino boy crouched to her left. His deep red eyes glistened in the light as he gazed up at her. “Ya found him, yet?”
Maka closed her eyes and extended her senses outward. Her sense of social justice drew her immediately to Saint Peter’s Basilica, to the priest presiding over mass. As the bedizened man administered communion to a young boy, Maka’s skin crawled. She checked his soul, but found no corruption expected of an Asura Egg. She saw nothing in the parishioners either.
Too bad, she thought. She shook herself to focus her mind, and she looked elsewhere in the city. There was only one signature she should have been focusing on. And, like her albino partner, what she was looking for was best left to her blog.
To the east, Maka sensed their quarry.
“There!” she said. “Let’s go, Soul.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” growled Soul, wiping away his drool. He and Maka leapt from the roof and cleared the street in one bound. They hit the opposite roof running. Soul eyed Maka, who cocked her head like a bloodhound honing in on prey. They leapt across rooftops with inhuman speed, while their souls resonated with each other across the unseen aether. Their strength augmented one another, amplifying Maka’s senses so that she knew exactly where the fiend was.
“Soul, scythe form!” she yelled.
Soul’s body flashed white, and morphed into a helical stream of energy. That stream came to rest in Maka’s hands and took the form of a sharp black and red scythe. She gripped the handle of her weapon tightly as Soul’s voice echoed in her mind, “Get him!”
Maka launched from that last rooftop. With her eyes, she saw what her soul had perceived ten blocks away: a gangly creature with lopsided posture, blood staining his white shirt. He stood in the middle of the alleyway, looming menacingly over his latest prey with a lascivious look in his lidless purple eyes. The terrified child threw his hands over his face, saturated with tears, and awaited the final blow.
The monster sensed an incoming attack from behind, and swivelled to block Maka’s blow with his bloodied axe. His purple eyes flashed brightly upon perceiving the souls of his attackers. Suddenly, the kid was meaningless. The creature swung his axe, throwing the girl off him.
Maka flipped through the air and landed like a cat – a badass cat. She glared at the villain and proclaimed, “Sonson Jay, you have fed on human souls. In the name of Lord Reaper, I claim your soul!”
Sonson Jay snarled and lunged forward. With a single arm, Maka twirled Soul’s scythe form as if it were weightless. She swatted the axe aside with the blade, and slammed the butt of the scythe handle against the beast’s temple. He stumbled into a dumpster and ducked at the last moment, avoiding Maka slicing his head off. Maka leaned back to dodge the beast’s blind axe swing, and then jerked the scythe. She locked the beast’s underarm and his axe, wresting it out of his hand and sending him headfirst into the alley wall. Maka didn’t give the creature a chance to recover, and with a loud roar, she bisected his back with the scythe blade.
Sonson Jay gurgled away his last and disintegrated, leaving behind a floating ball of burning matter. Maka released the scythe, which retook human form. Licking his lips, Soul grabbed his ethereal prize and shoved it down his gullet.
“Mama mia! That’s a spicy meatball!” he exclaimed with a faux Italian accent.
Even that had to earn a chuckle from his over-serious meister. She quickly sobered and said, “C’mon, we need to report back.” She swivelled and headed out of the alleyway. Soul glanced over at the flabbergasted boy and shuffled uncomfortably.
“Oi, Maka, what about the kid?” he mumbled.
“Send him home,” said Maka.
“With what he’s seen?” asked Soul. “Shouldn’t we, ya know, make sure he’s okay?”
Maka raised an eyebrow. “He’ll just think it was a nightmare. He’ll be fine.”
Soul glared at her irately. “Maka, seriously. If it were a chick, you’d be all Mother Goose over her.”
Maka put her fists on her hips and glared at her weapon partner. Soul didn’t let up, even though he usually caved when his meister gave him that look. He held his ground, until Maka acquiesced with a sigh.
The boy didn’t speak English, so Soul had to use the translator app on his phone. It was helpful enough. The boy especially warmed up when Soul explained that they protected people from evil monsters like that creature. Then they walked him home, during which they asked him to keep everything a secret. They left him with a promise that if ever monsters attacked, they would protect him. He waved goodbye with a smile, leaving them in a suburb of Rome at eleven o’clock in at night.
“Wanna go grab some food somewhere?” Soul suggested.
Maka was clearly in a foul mood after being side-tracked. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t have a hardcover book to throw at him. Plus, she was hungry. So they went looking for food. They found a nice-looking pasta joint that was just about to close the kitchen before they walked in. Maka ordered the minestrone, while Soul ordered the largest Tagliatelle Bolognese dish on the menu.
“I’m hungry, and I want it,” he retorted when Maka rolled her eyes. She continued to huff, but Soul couldn’t have cared less. He started to sing ‘I Want It All’ in his best impression of Freddie Mercury.
“I can’t believe you listen to Queen,” exclaimed Maka, a bemused sneer on her face. “It’s so last century … literally and figuratively.”
“Oi, Freddy Mercury is awesome,” retorted Soul.
“He wasn’t that good a singer anyway,” Maka went on.
“Hey, you gotta like Queen, or else you’re homophobic,” snapped Soul.
Maka scoffed, “What kinda logic is that?”
“Twitter logic,” retorted Soul with a mocking smirk.
“It is a valid website for learning, Soul!” Maka growled, even though she knew she was full of it.
Before the argument could continue, they heard chuckles from nearby. The couple at the adjacent table was looking at them and smiling. They were an older couple. To Maka, they looked as if they’d been married for decades. They exchanged glances when Soul and Maka looked at them, and they joined hands.
“Sorry to intrude,” said the husband with a thick Italian accent. “You are such a lovely couple.”
“We were just the same as you,” said the wife. “Always bickering, but beneath it all …” She smiled lovingly at her husband, as if it carried the message across.
Maka started to stammer as blood filled her face. Meanwhile, Soul decided to mess with her and said, “Yeah, we’re getting married next year.” He reached across and caressed her hand.
“Oh, molto bene6,” exclaimed the wife. The couple stood and departed, their smiles widening at their demeanour. Maka maintained her smile until the couple had left the restaurant, after which she mumbled, “You keep holding my hand, and you’ll lose it.”
Soul released her hand, but didn't stop laughing.
It took them an hour after dinner to finally find a secluded mirror. Maka drew an access number into it, which turned it into a portal back to the Demon Weapon Meister Academy, hidden away in Death City, Nevada. Maka strode quickly through the castle, squinting to avoid the late afternoon glare of the Nevada Desert. Soul kept up the pace, until they reached a door that looked like the very Gates of Hell.
Of course, that was just their boss’s sick sense of humour.
They walked right through those gates and into the pale white room. They strode through the picket of black crucifixes and up onto the dais, where a figure in black stood in front of a large mirror.
“Lord Reaper, we are here to report,” Maka announced. “Sonson Jay has been neutralised. One Asura Egg collected.”
The figure – known only as the Reaper – raised his head. Then he swivelled, revealing a white, cartoonish skull mask, and a pair of cuboid white hands. He clapped them together and jovially bellowed, “Well done, Maka Albarn! Soul Eater!”
“No prob, Lord Reaper,” said Soul. “We managed to take it out, easy-peasy. And plus, we made sure that kid it attacked got home safe.”
The Reaper clicked his tongue (if he had one), and said, “Good on you, Soul. That’s really nice of you.”
“It ain’t cool to leave a kid high-and-dry,” said Soul.
“Even though he exposed the existence of our organisation,” murmured Maka.
“Ah, Maka, you lovely Asura hunter,” said the Reaper. “You did an amazing job cleaning up that beast. As always, you’re an excellent meister.”
Maka beamed, and bowed reverently. “I am honoured to serve the will of Lord Reaper.”
“Kiss-ass,” muttered Soul. Maka shot him the evils.
“Well, provided there’s nothing else to report,” said the Reaper. “I think you can head on home.”
“Reaper, should something not be done about the boy who witnessed us?” asked Maka.
“Ah, never mind that, my dear,” replied the Reaper. “If anything, it’ll be a rumour of guardian angels. I wouldn’t pay it much worry.”
Maka huffed. The Reaper’s word was often final. Nevertheless, she still couldn’t shake the need to address the problem. More and more, she’d been worried about exposure of their world. It had become especially more troublesome when a certain Australian boy pulled a viral stunt involving an Arms Alchemy.
She continued to fret over it all the way back to their shared apartment.
* * *
After Maka and Soul left, the Reaper sighed and turned back to the mirror. Things were about to get very stressful for someone such as Maka. He knew the girl was a stickler for protocol in certain matters, especially when it came to secrecy.
But she and Soul are still the best ones for this job, he concluded.
At that instant, the doors to the Reaper’s chambers burst open. In strode a short boy with three white stripes encircling half of his head. Aside from that, everything about the yellow-eyed one was symmetrical. He walked in, but then walked back out. He walked in again, cursed under his breath, and then walked back out. He walked in a third time, and yelled, “How damn hard is it to land on my left foot when I am exactly three-point-one-four-one-five-nine metres from the door?”
“Kiddo! I need you here now,” said the Reaper firmly. The boy glared at him with bloodshot eyes, which quickly softened when he realised the Reaper needed him. He pushed past the gut-wrenching tingle he felt when things didn’t accord to his symmetrical designs, and stomped up to the dais.
“You sent for me, Father?” he mumbled. “And you asked me not to bring Liz and Patty, so I can only assume you have another diplomatic mission for me.”
“Ever so astute, Kiddo, m’boy,” said the Reaper. “It seems the Alchemic Regiment has pooped things up again.”
Kiddo buried his palm in his face. “Again? First Restigouche, then Victor, and then Nathan Grant! What is it this time?”
“Well, this isn’t entirely their fault,” said the Reaper. “It’s ours too.”
“How so?” asked Kiddo, offended by the notion.
“You remember Shaula Gorgon?” asked the Reaper. Kiddo grit his teeth at the mention of the Witch who attacked their school and killed several innocent people, including two girls. He motioned for his father to continue. “It seems that, since we didn’t catch her – what with, ya know, Ol’ Nyarlie attackin’ us and all – she went and teamed up with some old friends of the Regiment … You know, the L.X.E.?”
“The League of Extraordinary Elects?” said Kiddo with a raised eyebrow. “Witches hate homunculi. Why would one join with them?”
“To run a heist on a Regiment facility in Australia,” said the Reaper. His shadowy form quivered as he added, “They stole a very important relic that the Regment was studying, known as the Silver Key.”
Kiddo didn’t recognise the name, having carefully studied every ounce of his father’s lore.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Not sure,” said the Reaper. “Might’ve been something humans created before my kind came to Earth. I do know that humans had some pretty amazing powers long ago, but lost ’em well before I found ’em.”
Kiddo shrugged and returned to the issue at hand. “So the Alchemic Regiment messed up, and they want us to fix the problem?”
“Not exactly,” said the Reaper. “They want to run a joint-operation, to find the Shaula and the L.X.E., and reclaim the Silver Key. I want you to meet with them and discuss terms of cooperation.”
“Should I not take Liz and Patty with me?” asked Kiddo. “I could probably handle these flesh-eaters with ease.”
“Nope, I want to keep you in reserve in case things go south,” said the Reaper. “If the Regiment will cooperate, then I’ll send in Maka and Soul.”
Kiddo coughed nervously and muttered, “Aside from myself, they’re your best meister and weapon. Perhaps one of the other meisters. Black-Star and Tsubaki might be a better team. Or even Kim and Jackie.”
The Reaper waved a large cuboid finger at his son and said, “Tsk-tsk, Kiddo. When you take over the job from me, you need to always put your best foot forward. Understand?”
Kiddo pursed his lips and sighed, “Very well. Send the itinerary to me, and I will meet with these charlatans. If they are willing, I will inform you.”
The Reaper snapped his fingers with delight and watched his son leave. As the doors closed, the Reaper hunched and moaned, “The ball really is rolling, isn’t it?”