The instructions had been clear, easy to follow to the dot. A simple collecting job. But the moment he entered the building, parting the sea of fleeing girl rushing away, he picked up on the panic, the sharp smell of sweat and fear permeating the air. The looming feeling of something so profoundly wrong it tipped the scale of the natural balance. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
It wasn't the violence, not the bloody way the dead bodies were displayed, he was no stranger to that, it was the taint of forces that shouldn't be and the almost electric current in the air. Rage leaving tangible trails that chilled his skin. It should have been a fair warning to anyone sensible enough to follow, but he was here to complete a task. He could see now, why they sent him and not one of the fresh faces, this was dirty work.
The first soul didn't put up much of a fight, eager to leave the place behind. The body's state had him opt for not touching it, simply severing the bond of mortal flesh and soul with the wave of a hand, stringing it along on an invisible leash. He had a contract to fulfill and more cargo to haul, possibly to hell. Or worse, to processing. D.E.A.T.H.'s own little bureaucracy pit.
Two more to go, slaughtered like lamb, they put up a bit more resistance. Things to do, places to go, excuses to make. Aiden had little patience for platitudes today, so he just strung them up tighter, wound the binding energy firmer and pulled a little harder.
The closer he got to the Revenant, the more abnormal it felt. Like something was draining the oxygen out of the air. While being a Reaper gave Aiden no advantage over any being, magical or spiritual, death didn’t phase him. Not the presence of it, not the prospect of it.
He stepped into the back office after following the trail of tangible destruction, face a stoic mask of indifference, his overlong coat trailing behind him.
Face to face with the Revenant, he leveled him/it with a blank stare, the faint light of the collected souls bound to his presence giving him a dim ethereal glow.