Nothing to See Here Just some AU-Uber Fiction

He woke up in an offshoot of his boss's lair. He’d been allowed use of the whole of it, but Ivan wasn’t one to trust so easily.

He’d even warned Zillah against it, the amorphous grey-black creature instead taking up residence in his lap every night.

Ivan knew that while Zilly was only ever a comfort to him, it was only a weapon, a tool to his current benefactor. He supposed he’d forced such a comparison, in more antagonistic times.

It was much too early to impose anymore than he had, when he considered the begging he’d done to get this far.

While he’d have loved the notion of being more easily trusted by his recent allies, Ivan didn’t hold much hope for that. He knew how the Grim felt about liars and cheaters, and really anyone farther below the bar than himself.

As far as Ivan knew, all he needed to do was stay there.

Still he needed to get a move on if he wanted to be of use that day. “Zilla sweety, off.” he said, pushing her off.

She hissed and her essence curled in dissatisfied dust, before she shook the sleep from her form, if he didn’t know any better he’d have assumed his lap was uncomfortable. 

Ivan was aware that between him and his Bike, his lap would always win.

He went about his morning, pointing Zillah to a more useful task, before seeing to himself and the weaponry he’d been allotted.

The Grim had given him a set of guidelines as far as his role after begging asylum, the first was ‘stay in the boundaries of BlitheValley', the second was ‘to not take liberties with the bodies of locals’, the third was to ‘not bother him for nothing’, which seemed like a copout to Ivan. Though he wasn’t about to complain about it to anyone.

He’d been lucky enough to get that, as the Grim’s mourner, and really the reason for their bad blood had argued for him. Ivan was prepared for a tempestuous relationship, the kind of unbidden hatred that would push him back, make him brave.

Send him back to Lola.

But with all the grace and mercy that was to be expected of a mourner, he’d been given space. He didn’t know what to do with space that wasn’t rushing by, and the calm of it was making him antsy.

Still he needed to get on track, if the Grim’s compatriots had more of a handle on his afterlife then he did.

He set himself for his day, a bit beyond the Grim's paraphernalia, including an emergency medical kit for humans, and a repair kit for vehicles.

Neither were things he'd been made to carry, they just seemed the thing to have given his new role as a local cryptid.

There were hunters for this kind of thing, but there were some jobs that the Grim didn't trust to humans, especially to the kinds of humans that would want to.

As a result Ivan got stuck with something of a dirty job.

He'd do patrols around BlitheValley, avoiding the hunters, which made his route through the town change often. He was permitted a number of occult objects to assist in his role, most of which weren’t outright toxic to his physiology.

Siren's-bane was one of them. It was a kind of hearing aid that blocked out spectral noise, and forced him to learn sign language. It was mostly safe since it was non chemical, that along with other protective equipment was how the Grim assured his compliance and safety to his witnesses.

It was obvious what they were, with how much sway they had.

Lola had had it with him, though he didn’t have the luxury of living mourners of any distinction.

All together he’d had a quiet morning, taking the back entrance of the lair out into a conventional street, there wasn’t a door in the lair that could lead you wrong. Always opening into abandoned places or alleyways, then closing just as easily.

It was a clever trick, a bit much for such a recent addition to the posthumous community, but he knew what he’d be doing if he could pull it off.

Ivan tried to take his time, even if his role was needed, he wasn't about to overdo it when the haunting wasn't heavy.

Didn't stop him from being a bit of a speed demon, he tried to take the longer roads, rather than risking pedestrians.

Which is how a tool kit became part of his repertoire. As it turned out people at consistent risk of spectral damages, weren't often well equipped to deal with rather normal occurrences.

It didn't help that most citizens were stuck with all kinds of trouble as a result of possession, or under pressure from spooks with increasingly specific obsessions.

It almost made him regret his first attempts at BlitheValley. Almost. It was hard for him, given his obsession, to look down on his past self for his actions.

He'd done it for love, after all.

It wasn't as if it worked though. Lola had gotten lost in the liminal hall anyway. She'd gotten new powers out of it, even. But she also changed.

In his revelry he'd managed to ride all the way outside the BlitheValley city limits.

He knew from experience that the Grim was unlikely to call him out on it, especially since there were no readouts on the funky dohickeys they'd forced on him.

So without much to do he decided to stay out, no use going back to the lair when his ‘room’ was all he had the comfort to use. Besides that, Zilly had already taken to the grass there, and he wasn’t about to bother her.

He took to basking as he waited, knowing full well that nothing much would happen in the interim.

“What’re you doing out here?”, the Grim asked, floating above him, obviously a bit peeved. 

“Nothing much actually. Zillah got bored,” he pointed over to her, while the Grim had a tendency to project his grievances with impunity, Ivan had learned how to override his temperament in most cases.

He responded almost immediately, “That’s fair, she ain’t making trouble?” he said tentatively. Maybe his mourners were being hard on him.

“no.”

“Good.” which was about it for their conversation, the Grim being mostly satisfied with their correspondence. They stayed there for an uncomfortably long time, as it seemed the Grim had nothing better to do.

And Ivan wasn’t about to bother him outside city limits.

It wouldn’t be that long before the Grim would say something. "So, Poppy wants to talk with you."

"Your Mourner?"

"Yeah, that. She's worrying herself about your psychological health. I could tell her you don't have a brain, if it's bothersome," he said, trying to laugh it off. It must’ve been awkward for him.

Ivan wasn’t exactly hostile to the idea overall, having the option in front of him was just another good thing he wasn’t sure how to handle. "No, I can. look, I don't really know when she'd be free for that.”

"It'd be fine, you know. She's probably the only person I know that doesn't bite." he said as honestly as possible.

"I'm not sure if that's reassuring," he managed to say out loud, before looking at the entire situation, "so, why're you just floating outside city limits? My laziness can’t be your priority."

"Oh," the Grim said surprised, before floating down into the grass beside Ivan, curling up. "I'm just waiting for someone."

"What, do you got other mourners I don't know about? You letting folks cross back?", Ivan prodded, it was easier to talk now.

"No, well, yes on the second thing. No trouble, no trouble." he gestured vaguely, looking out at the main roads. "She's kinda my fault actually." he said quietly.

"What, you making folks?"

"No, it- fights have consequences. Sometimes." the Grim stuttered in adolescent embarrassment.

"Someone died?"

“No! other consequences.”

It wasn’t exactly a rare story among the dead. It made sense given how powerful he was, there was a reason he begged asylum. His age was really the only odd part, being only very recently dead.

"Little young to be a cad, aren't ya?", was all he could say to cut the tension.

It didn’t seem to work all that well, as the Grim got lost in thought.

“I guess I am.” he finally said. 

“Do you want to meet her?” he asked, seemingly in want of support.

“Sure.” he wasn’t, 

“Good.”

So they waited for her, watching the sky for where she’d sink from. Two spirits on the edge of town, waiting for a wanderer.