...There's also Teto, someone I've utilized so much I've stopped even finding new names for him and just inserted him directly into everything (Well, not everything has his name, sometimes I feel the need to actually change it)
Clyde could have played along, trying to weave through the lie he built, but something told him that Blake had fucked things up for him and he might as well abandon ship. He snatched back his ID and took off out the door. The guards all gave chase, but once Clyde was out of sight, he slipped out of the physical world and out of sight.
"No cigarettes are worth this bull shit," he said as he strolled back into the hospital. Laying low out of the physical world was always ideal, but it hospitals, the physical world was the best approach. The reason was because it was hard to get around without being noticed or detected in such tight confines. Elevators were a no-no so Clyde had to take his trip to the stairs. He was at least thankful that it was just Blake and Whitey who could find him on sight this way. Any more people and he might lose it.
After conquering the stairs, Clyde had to risk opening the door into the hallway, meaning if anyone was watching it, the door looked to be opening on its own. From there it was a carful walk to the ICU and towards the Fitzsimmons room. Opening the sliding door into there was easier since most attention was placed on the girl down the hall. Once safely inside, Clyde felt safe again to return to the physical world. "And with a few minutes to spare," he said with a smile as John Fitzsimmons reacted to his sudden appearing out of thin air.
"If it's alright with you, let's just assume you still remember my little speech from yesterday and just pick up from that point," Clyde said as he reached into his jacket and pulled out his shank. The old man's labored breaths became more severe as he eyed the weapon being drawn out. "Don't worry," Clyde said "I'm not killing you with it. Well, you're dying either way, and then I'll be stabbing your spirit, which will send you directly to hell where you belong." Clyde took a moment to think about what he just said. "Hmm," he said "Maybe that John fucker had a point."
Clyde looked to Fitzsimmons and shrugged after checking his watch. "Either way," he said as he slipped himself back out of the physical world in preparation "Time to croak so I can get on with my day." Fitzsimmons' breathing became quicker and shallower as he gripped his chest as he laid back on his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Clyde was so impatiently focused on watching the dying, that he didn't turn around to see who it was when he heard the door slide open behind him. It was probably a nurse or someone hearing the alarm generated by the dying man.
"Be gone, demon!" a familiar voice screamed out.
"Oh jeeze, not this bitch aga-" Clyde remarked before he felt an blast of energy strike him in the back, blowing him back into the physical world and flat onto his face. "I am not a fucking demon!" Clyde screamed as he rolled over and got back on his feet, brandishing his shank in the process.
"I will not let you claim this poor soul in its final hour," Whitey said as she took position at the door.
"He's going to Hell!" Clyde exclaimed "There's nothing to claim that your god hasn't already dismissed!" Whitey ignored him as she whispered into his fist that had a glowing rosary wrapped around it before chucking another ball of energy at him. "Son of a-" Clyde cried out as he took it in the chest and it knocked him back into the window. Whitey wound up and prepared to fire again when Clyde realized she wasn't trying to kill him, just blow him out the building.
"Get out!" she screamed as she chucked another attack his way. Clyde dove for the ground as the attack crashed through the window, blowing broken glass in all directions. Clyde scrambled to his feet and dove at Whitey immediately, shoulder checking her in the stomach. They both toppled down with Clyde staying on top. Clyde risked a look behind him and to his dismay, Fitzsimmons had died.
"Fuck fuck fuck!" he yelled as he noticed the spirit of the dead man sneaking his way out the door before taking off down the hall. "This is all I fucking need!" he yelled as he slipped back into the spirit world and took off after. He got two steps when he felt Whitey grab him by the back of the collar and haul him to the ground and back into the real world.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he yelled as he kicked and flailed his hands at his attacker to get her off of him. Whitey began to chant something in preparation of some exorcising technique. "I really don't have time for this shit!" Clyde screamed as he landed a kick to Whitey's head, causing her to let go and fall back.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!" Clyde screamed as he sprinted back after Fitzsimmons. He was now resorting to the hope that the ghost was dumb enough to keep running as opposed to hiding, because Clyde didn't have time to search the hospital thoroughly with Whitey antagonizing him. "It's a fucking old man," he thought to himself "How far could he possibly have gone?"
After racing down several hallways, and with security most likely on their way up, Clyde gave up his frantic search to instead worry about his more prevalent annoyance. He made his way out of the hospital through the spirit world and waited out back in an out of the way location where he knew no one would happen by. He waited several minutes until Whitey came for him, apparently after a wardrobe change.
"Do you live in your own comic book world?" Clyde asked as Whitey stood prepared for him. "Come at me, demon, for I know you cannot defeat me," she said as she began to glow with holy light. "I. AM. NOT. A. FUCKING. DEMON!" Clyde screamed as he readied his shank.
Whitey then came running at him with such a speed and in such a way, that it seemed like she was flying. Clyde barely had time to ready himself when the girl pushed into him, knocking him back and over. Clyde was anything but ready for this confrontation; Reapers were up for a specific job and fighting wasn't one of them.
Clyde rolled over and got up as best he could. He was indeed immortal, but pain and fatigue were still a very real thing for him. Whitey geared up for the same attack as Clyde tried to formulate a plan on the fly. He was out powered and out gunned by this girl, but he refused to believe that she also had him out smarted. Whitey came running again and Clyde decided to run right at her as well, the sheer shock of his decision causing Whitey to pull up in attempt to attack earlier than she planned.
As they collided into each other, Clyde swung his shank into Whitey as hard as he could. Whitey cried out as both of them were knocked back from each other onto the ground. Whitey clutched a bleeding wound at her abdomen as Clyde stood up and approached the fallen fighter. "I had a job to do, but you couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" he yelled at Whitey, who couldn't even bother to look up at him.
"Maybe someone needs to rape your dumb ass, eh?" he asked as he reached down and grabbed her by the hair, bloody shank in hand, in no mood for leniency. Whitey then screamed at the top of her lungs as a blast of energy emitted from her, blowing Clyde away several yards and into a tree. By the time he recovered himself, Whitey was gone.
Clyde thought about going after the girl who so foolishly and self-righteously got in his way, but ultimately decided against it. He got her worse than she got him, and in the end the paperwork involved with killing a member of the living who wasn't scheduled for a reaping just wasn't worth it. "Cunt," he commented as he brushed the dirt off of himself and pocketed his shank. As it was he was in a heap of trouble, and he didn't have time to kill looking to pick a fight.