Quote from MalacalFor the intro paragraph you could have written what event caused her to die.
We all have our own methods of undoing our character's deaths. Some (read: most) of us simply disregard the loss in our continuities, others give vague explanations with a dismissive 'woo ain't the RHG mysterious' explanation. I, on the other hand, had a little idea of my own, one I could (read: probably should) simply explain via the latter example, but that's a boring cop-out. Plus, since it so happens that my own character is in such a situation that the idea can now be demonstrated, I don't see why not.
This story takes place shortly after Penny's death at the hands of Omega. After nobody can recover her body, the Death may have a busy time ahead of Her...
DISCLAIMER - The following story contains instances of strong language.
"Chapter 1 - SPIRITS" (Click to Show)
[Spoiler="Chapter 2 - STYX"]Between dimensions.
Time and date immeasurable.
Throughout the endless cloudy void, doors drifted like dust through the air. There was no up, no down, no concept of direction to speak of, each individual wooden, steel or screen panel facing and going their own way at a snail’s pace. At any time, a handful at random would suddenly spring to life, leaping to a linear arrangement either side of the Reaper as She strolled past, resuming their free float through nothing once She passed them as the next few took their place and so on. Every door Death passed was given a quick glance and the inaudible mutter of a name, the name of the one behind whichever door She was looking for.
Finally, she stopped and turned to her left, facing one door with one thing the rest lacked. It was likely never going to be known how, or even why, it had been achieved when Death Herself could not repeat the task, and by She had learned long ago to not ask. It simply was what it was; the only door in the entire void with a piece of paper heavily stapled to it, with writing that read Andy’s Room - Keep Out! in comically large letters that had been coloured in with a rainbow of felt-tip pens. Charon sighed deeply. She could already feel irritation setting in ahead of whatever it was ‘Andy’ likely had prepared for Her. It wouldn't be surprising if he still blamed Her for being banished…
She twisted the door handle, pushing the door open and stepping in. “I don't want to hear whatever names you might-” bewilderment took Her words from Her as She entered the room, only to see the back of Her own head before the door to Andy's Room closed in Her face. It took Charon a moment to recall that anyone could warp the reality of this realm to their will before She let out a huff of frustration and took a different approach to dealing with Her stubborn associate.
As calmly as She could muster, Death gave a gentle knock knock on the door. After no response, She repeated the action, slightly more forcefully. A voice called out in mocking singsong. “Who is iiiit~?”
“Just open the door,” She replied.
“Oop, sorry, no can-do. I’m asposed ta be gwounded. Saaad face.”
Death lost her patience and loudly slammed Her fist against the door. “MYERS!”
There was a moment’s pause before the door hinged back a sliver, a man’s face appearing in the gap. There was no one word with which to describe the overall features of the face, other than perhaps ‘unnatural’. The flesh was deathly pale, almost grey in colour, save for heavily charred patches around the eyes, they themselves without pupils and glowing brilliant red from the dark room behind the door. The look on Myers’ face was not one She was used to seeing on him; contempt. Clearly, he was still harbouring a grudge.
“Oh,” Myers deadpanned, “Hey. You here to apologise?”
For goodness sake, Death thought to Herself, not this again. “Good news,” She began, “It's one of those rare instances where you can be of use.”
“Well, that was just godawful, but I'll give you another shot.”
“I believe you know of Dr. Hartley’s latest little protégé.”
Myers shrugged his shoulders, his eyes never leaving Hers. “Wouldn't have any idea. Can't really keep up with things in here, now can I?”
As flawless as his poker face was, Death knew that that was a blatant lie. “Oh, well that's strange,” She chimed, eyebrow cocked upward, “Because there was this time someone managed to rescue her from some monster in a forest, and when I came to check on you, all I found in the room was this.” From her robes, She produced several papers and a photograph of a young masked woman held together by a large paperclip. The front paper had in capitals a name; WHITECHAPEL, Ms. PENELOPE J.
Myers pointed to the stolen IIDEN documents, eyes widening in feigned surprise. “Oh, you mean that proto-whatever.”
“Yes,” Death resumed, “Well, seeing as you saw Penny worth rescuing once, perhaps you’ll be willing to do it again.” Placing the documents back within her cloak, She began to give the mission brief.
“Now, supposedly, she’s out at sea somewhere, but if that were really the case, we’d have found her by now. All I've been able to do is wait until her soul manifests, but it's unusual for that to take any longer than it already has. I'm concerned there's a third party at play. That's where you come in, since you seem to have a certain knack for being in the right place at the right time, somehow. When you make your way to England, there’ll be an Agent waiting for you in Penny's last known location-”
“Let me see if I've got this right,” Myers interrupted, pointing upward to indicate to Death to stop talking. “You lock me in here and forget all about me, but as soon as you got a problem, you show up and just expect me to fix everything?”
The Reaper seemed taken aback. In his absence, She had become accustomed to being treated with a little more respect.
“...Excuse me?”
The door swung open, Myers now fully standing in the doorway and leaning with his right hand on the frame. “I'm just saying,” he continued, “seems like a really shitty way to treat a hero, y’know? It's like, ‘hey thanks for savin’ the world, Superman, that’ll be twenty bajillion years in jail, go fuck yourself.’”
It was clear Death was beginning to reach the end of Her tether. “We’ve been over this. The world was never in danger. Yin isn't the kind of-”
She was interrupted again, “You don't know that! He'd turn the whole planet into a fuckin’ wasteland just to spite her.”
Myers’ next words struck a particularly sensitive chord. “Seriously, Char, get your head out of your ass, just this once.”
By all accounts, Charon was not the kind to turn to anger as often as She had lately. Normally, She was much more calm, composed, collected. Normally, souls didn't vanish without a trace, and there would be no problem, no unwelcome fox spirits constantly breathing down Her neck. No disrespectful prick answering back to Her, having the nerve to call himself a hero, and telling Death Herself that She had an ego problem. She was having a week more stressful than usual, more than it needed to be. And as usual, Myers proved to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
For a brief moment, and at the same time an eternity, the two bickered like children.
“Oh,” She hissed, “well isn't that just the pot calling the kettle black! Is there a better metaphor for a God complex than talking to a literal god like they're beneath you?!”
“Well, I don't see w