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Description
Chapter 2

I trotted up the outside steps to our apartment complex.
It had started to rain after he left me on the street, off to fight crime for another night.
I know i should hate that he spends all his nights and part of his days putting his life in danger.
I should want him to pack it all in and let the police do their job.
Well, lets face it, they wont.
He's protecting people from evil.
He's fighting for what he believes in.
Its an admirable thing to do, and it's what he wants.
As long as he doesn't feel compelled to do it i wont turn into a nag.
I unlocked the door to our apartment, and walked in.
It wasn't much, 2 bedroom, washer, dryer, 1 bathroom.
Its nice.
We're not devistatingly poor, but we're not rich.
I work as an Opera singer at the local Opera House.
'Scarlet Opera House'.
Catchy isn't it.
Yvonne Scarlet, the famous Opera singer.
Course, i'm only famous in Scarlet, go anywhere else and they've never heard of the Opera singer Yvonne Scarlet.
But you will find me in an ancient line of royalty, but thats a story for another time.
Anyways, we're alone now, so i suppose i should tell you about Reaper.
First of all, his real name is Israel, Israel Clark.
I met him before he was a superhero, when he was just a sad little boy of 16.
We went to school together, the kids at school called him death.
His parents had just been murdered and he was the last one to see them alive.
Everything he touched seemed to be destroyed.
His father's parents died in a car accident on their way to his birth.
His mother's parents died while he was young as well.
At his first birthday his grandmother choked on a piece of cake, soon afterwards his grandfather commited suicide.
When he was 10 his parents decided to forget the past tragedies and have another child.
A baby girl this time.
Gloria, she lived for about a week until she died from falling down the stairs and smashed her skull.
Israel was supposed to be watching her, while his mother showered.
He was carrying her down stairs to answer the phone, when her tripped and sent them both tumbling down the stairs.
His mother blamed him, she was never the same.
She fell into a deep depression and attempted suicide twice.
His father was diagnosed with radiation poisoning from working at the local power plant.
They were murdered on their way to their psyciatrist appointment.
The many deaths had taken a toll on them both.
Police said they weren't mugged, they were shot, both point blank in the heart.
At their funeral, none of his family was left, his mother was an adopted child and his father was an only child.
He had no friends, his parents friends and co-workers sat as far away from him as possible, afraid that deaths clutches would reach out and suffocate them as they sat there.
This is when i met him.
He was sitting all by himself in art class, I sat next to him as it was the only seat available.
He broke 3 pencils, 1 pen, and ripped his sketch the first class.
The next class we made bowls on the wheel, he made a beautiful bowl, it was perfect, but it had an air bubble in it and when our teacher put it in the kiln it exploded, along with half the classes art.
That didn't help his reputation.
At this point in his life he was bouncing between foster homes.
Nobody wanted him, something bad always happened to the people who took him in.
The first foster parent died in a car accident 1 week after taking him in.
The next pair had a daughter who got sick from food poisoning, after he cooked dinner for them.
After that rumors had spread, less and less people would take him in.
The first time we spoke he asked me for a pencil.
The boy at the next table whispered over to me, "Don't let him touch you, you'll never make it through the day,"
I was so appauled that someone would make light of his situation that I leaned over and kissed Israel on the cheek.
The class went quiet.
Israel was so shocked that he fell off his chair. He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to burst into ash.
I looked around at my classmates, glaring at all of them.
"Look, no smallpox, no festering wound, no anal bleeding, no murderer coming to chop my head off, nothing!
"Why don't you all grow up!" I yelled at them.
As if on cue the bell rang and i stormed out of the classroom, with everyone staring at me.
After school, I was leaving the grounds when a school bus mad a sharp turn and flipped over, and came sliding down the street towards me.
I stood there blankly, as if it would never hit me.
My mind just went blank, i just watched as it came barreling towards me.
At the last second Israel tackled me, and we rolled out of the way.
That was his first rescue.

Description
Chapter 2

I trotted up the outside steps to our apartment complex.
It had started to rain after he left me on the street, off to fight crime for another night.
I know i should hate that he spends all his nights and part of his days putting his life in danger.
I should want him to pack it all in and let the police do their job.
Well, lets face it, they wont.
He's protecting people from evil.
He's fighting for what he believes in.
Its an admirable thing to do, and it's what he wants.
As long as he doesn't feel compelled to do it i wont turn into a nag.
I unlocked the door to our apartment, and walked in.
It wasn't much, 2 bedroom, washer, dryer, 1 bathroom.
Its nice.
We're not devistatingly poor, but we're not rich.
I work as an Opera singer at the local Opera House.
'Scarlet Opera House'.
Catchy isn't it.
Yvonne Scarlet, the famous Opera singer.
Course, i'm only famous in Scarlet, go anywhere else and they've never heard of the Opera singer Yvonne Scarlet.
But you will find me in an ancient line of royalty, but thats a story for another time.
Anyways, we're alone now, so i suppose i should tell you about Reaper.
First of all, his real name is Israel, Israel Clark.
I met him before he was a superhero, when he was just a sad little boy of 16.
We went to school together, the kids at school called him death.
His parents had just been murdered and he was the last one to see them alive.
Everything he touched seemed to be destroyed.
His father's parents died in a car accident on their way to his birth.
His mother's parents died while he was young as well.
At his first birthday his grandmother choked on a piece of cake, soon afterwards his grandfather commited suicide.
When he was 10 his parents decided to forget the past tragedies and have another child.
A baby girl this time.
Gloria, she lived for about a week until she died from falling down the stairs and smashed her skull.
Israel was supposed to be watching her, while his mother showered.
He was carrying her down stairs to answer the phone, when her tripped and sent them both tumbling down the stairs.
His mother blamed him, she was never the same.
She fell into a deep depression and attempted suicide twice.
His father was diagnosed with radiation poisoning from working at the local power plant.
They were murdered on their way to their psyciatrist appointment.
The many deaths had taken a toll on them both.
Police said they weren't mugged, they were shot, both point blank in the heart.
At their funeral, none of his family was left, his mother was an adopted child and his father was an only child.
He had no friends, his parents friends and co-workers sat as far away from him as possible, afraid that deaths clutches would reach out and suffocate them as they sat there.
This is when i met him.
He was sitting all by himself in art class, I sat next to him as it was the only seat available.
He broke 3 pencils, 1 pen, and ripped his sketch the first class.
The next class we made bowls on the wheel, he made a beautiful bowl, it was perfect, but it had an air bubble in it and when our teacher put it in the kiln it exploded, along with half the classes art.
That didn't help his reputation.
At this point in his life he was bouncing between foster homes.
Nobody wanted him, something bad always happened to the people who took him in.
The first foster parent died in a car accident 1 week after taking him in.
The next pair had a daughter who got sick from food poisoning, after he cooked dinner for them.
After that rumors had spread, less and less people would take him in.
The first time we spoke he asked me for a pencil.
The boy at the next table whispered over to me, "Don't let him touch you, you'll never make it through the day,"
I was so appauled that someone would make light of his situation that I leaned over and kissed Israel on the cheek.
The class went quiet.
Israel was so shocked that he fell off his chair. He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to burst into ash.
I looked around at my classmates, glaring at all of them.
"Look, no smallpox, no festering wound, no anal bleeding, no murderer coming to chop my head off, nothing!
"Why don't you all grow up!" I yelled at them.
As if on cue the bell rang and i stormed out of the classroom, with everyone staring at me.
After school, I was leaving the grounds when a school bus mad a sharp turn and flipped over, and came sliding down the street towards me.
I stood there blankly, as if it would never hit me.
My mind just went blank, i just watched as it came barreling towards me.
At the last second Israel tackled me, and we rolled out of the way.
That was his first rescue.