Natural Order

I do not own Metalocalypse. I do not make money from writting this fanfiction. Metalocalypse and characters belong to Brendon Small & Tommy Blacha. I do not own the concept of reapers either nor the afterlife.
This story takes place after Black Fire Upon Us Part 2. If you haven't seen it Please do, is Awesome!

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There was always something that struck me as strange about it but I never dared to ask why. I sincerely couldn't explain the reason I was facinated by him. I went to every show and never watched them but he always stood out. Long before I knew who he even was. It took me a while to notice him the first time I didn't see him sitting behind a set of drums and without his stage makeup. But, it was him, and my role as merely a spectator reaper changed. His wide green eyes and pleading face stirred something long thought dead in me.
"Yer here ta take 'im aren't ya?" he asks. I knod gravely, I'm caught off guard that he can actually see me. A broken sob tears from his throat as he squeezes the hand of the man laying in the hospital bed. I remember this man from the first time I saw him, he looks almost human without his suit and glasses. His face is drawn with pain even in a pain medicine induced sleep.
"Wat could I offer ya ta make ya leave 'im here?" he asks despirately looking up at me again. "I know dat if ya jes let 'im live through da night, he'll be okay." I shake my head. Why would I be here if Charles Ofdenson were going to live?
"Ya mean he's..." he looks as if he's fighting the urge to crumble again. Suddenly, his head snaps up setting his dreads snapping wildly around his face. "Why da fuck do ya want 'im anyway? Der's plenty of other souls ta drag away."
I scowl at him, I've been spoken to this way but none have lived to tell about it. He doesn't back down though, even goes so far as to stand from his place beside the hospital bed.
"Ya get millions of souls from us! Why can't ya jes let dis one go?" he demmands.
I thump my sythe and extend my wings I raise my hand toward the bed. Pickles grabs my wrist with an angry curse.
"I said let dis one go!" he screams.
I'm startled that he's still alive after touching me. I shake him off sending him slamming into the wall. He shoots up from the floor and slams into me, knocking me down. My hood flies back and he looks down at me just as surprised as I am.
"Yer not a skeleton?" he stammers his eyes loosing their anger. I narrow my eyes.
"You mortals are inane." I snap. "Of course I am not a skeleton, and there are more like me. The descision about your manager is not up to me."
"He's not just my manager." he argues back angry again. For some reason it hurts when he glares at me. I feel my own anger fleeting.
"That is of little importance." I reply. "He is meant to die, so shall it be. I am here to bear him to the afterlife."
"Wat can I do ta stop ya from takin' 'im?" he pleads his face falling as the finality of my words starts to sink in. "I'll do anyt'ing."
I shove him off of me and regain my feet, brushing my robes off.
"Why do you care about this man?" I demand. "Like all before him, his memory shall fade."
"I..." he takes a deep breath. "I'm in love with 'im. He may not look like much, but he's one of the few people that's given a flying fuck about me. He's come ta mean the world ta me."
I stare at him a minute then replace my hood. A ache sets up in my chest, I know now what it is. I realize that I may have had an infatuation for the mortal, but that didn't matter anymore.
"Tell no one of this." I sigh walking over to the bed. He starts up after me but I stretch forth my hand slamming him back to the floor.
"CHARLIE!" he screams trying to force himself off the floor. He screams over and over trying to rise. I ignore him. This will be my final act as a reaper. The act that will spell the ending of my existance. I slide my finger along the blade of my sythe. Blood pools on the end of the pale digit as I move it over the invalids parted lips. Three drops of blood fall down onto his tongue. That should do it.
"Wat did you do?" Pickles screams. I turn and stretch out my wings.
"Tell no one, mortal." I remind him as my body starts to fade. I broke the law, by giving the mortal my blood I extended his life. The wound in his chest that normally should have killed him would heal. Charles Ofdenson would live, and for my crime against the natural order I would die.

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Please, tell me what you think.