Tapped By Death
He watched as the Cylon known as Scar destroyed yet another Colonial survivor with what, despite the lack of anything that could truly be called a 'face', anyone who was watching would somehow manage to recognise an annoyed, almost angry frown.
YOU KNOW, Death spoke, the words leaden, screaming straight into the mind without even touching the ears, totally ignorant of the vacuum of space, I MAY HAVE TO TAP SOMEONE TO TAKE THAT… CREATURE OUT
SQUEAK, he nodded at the disgusted comment from the small, also skeletal figure currently stalking angrily across his shoulders, SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK
INDEED Death sighed, his breath misting somehow as he let out air he didn't need into the absolute cold and airlessness of space, HOWEVER…
Slowly, he reached into a pocket, revealing a distorted hourglass for the grim squeaker to see, a strange mechanical valve shoved where the narrowest point of the glass should be, the glass around it cracked and distorted. The sand was flowing through the unwanted addition far slower then it should. It wasn't the only change though.
SQUEAK? The small death of rats stepped forward, his scythe tapping at a battered burnt out addition which appeared to be designed to turn the life-timer on its head. SQUEAK! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!
LANGUAGE MY LITTLE FRIEND, Death slowly placed the hourglass back into a pocket, THAT ADDITION REQUIRED A SHIP WHICH THE COLONIALS SUCCESSFULLY DESTROYED. I ENJOYED MY WORK THAT DAY. NO ONE BUT ME HAS THE RIGHT TO GRANT EXTENSION
SQUEAK the rat pointed out reasonably.
PERHAPS, Death shrugged, the move on what was essentially a walking skeleton was more then slightly worrying, BUT NO-ONE HAS EVER GRANTED RINCEWIND EXTENSION. HE IS JUST… LUCKY
SQUEAK? There was a chuckle, the rat leaning on its scythe as it laughed, no doubt remembering some of the 'wizzards' more famous escapades.
I HAVE GONE TO COLLECT HIM EXACTLY ONE HUNDRED AND THREE TIMES
The grim squeaker stopped laughing; SQUEAK he replied, conceding the point.
STILL… the visage of the grim reaper turned calculating, WHO SHOULD I TAP?
The Death of Rats glanced around, and then tapped once at Deaths head, pointing directly at the distant and not humanly visible Galactica.
IT WOULD HAVE TO BE A PILOT, THAT DOES MAKE IT THE LOGICAL PLACE TO START The gleam in his eyes grew brighter, BESIDES, THERE ARE TWO PILOTS ONBOARD I'VE BEEN TAKING AN INTEREST IN
YES, Death replied, his eyes following the confrontation between the two pilots, THOSE TWO. THRACE IS PERHAPS THE BETTER PILOT BUT KAT… KAT GAVE MONEY TO THE CAT PROTECTION LEAGUE EVERY MONTH BEFORE THE FALL
SQUEAK! The Death of Rats replied outraged.
I KNOW YOU HAVE LITTE APPRECIATION FOR SUCH FINE CREATURES AS CATS Death replied, an edge to his voice, BUT I WOULD REMIND YOU THAT WHEN THEY KILL RATS THEY ARE ONLY DOING WHAT, TO THEM, IS ONLY NATURAL. THEY ARE PERFECTLY LOVABLE CREATURES OTHERWISE
Angrily, the grim squeaker dived off of Deaths shoulder and stalked across to Kara Thrace, where, unnoticed he climbed up her uniform to her shoulder, tapping once at her head with his scythe.
FINE Death replied, stalking forward, the crowd not noticing his passage at all but still somehow leaving a clear path for him to reach his target, Kat. Upon reaching the pilot, he tapped once, just once with his scythe on the arrogant figures head, WE SHALL SEE WHO WINS THIS ONE
Death smiled, it was not a nice smile, YOU DO KNOW OF COURSE THAT KARA, WHOM YOU HAVE JUST TAPPED, KEPT A PET CAT. A RATHER FAMOUS RATTER AT THAT
The rooms occupants shivered as one as the Grim Squeakers outraged squeal registered on their subconscious.
SQUEAK was the mournful comment as the Cylon known as Scar died, destroyed by Kat.
I NEVER LOSE Death replied smugly, stepping forward, long strides quickly taking him to the confused looking cylon raider whose spectral form swiftly turned and opened fire upon Death, the bullets harmlessly passing through the Grim Reapers ethereal form, AND NOW, YOU ARE MINE