GRAND TWEET V: it's over!

Reginald lowers down to near ground level, his lazy circles sending off wisps of incorporeal shadestuff.

A puff of blackened shade-smoke blasts out of the figure, Reginald's nav systems go haywire.

"Come, Catarath. You must atone."

"What? No!" The drone's flight pattern becomes erratic, and it gains height to allow him to avoid crashing. "Don't listen! Atoning is lame!"

Wings at the ready, Catarath soars, time flashing by in instants.

A burial, a burial, a burial, a burial, a burial. Joyous occasions, all.

Reginald follows, hanging close onto Catarath's tail to allow him to navigate by sight. "Seems like you did a good enough job."

"I mean, they all got buried. That's helpful. Nothing to atone for, at least." The drone does a small loop, black smoke pouring out.

Then not burials. Induction, apprenticeship, a childhood admiring mom's work with sanctified spade.

A life since, to live up to that example.

Catarath, deep down memory lane, struggles to respond.

"All this... means nothing. If... I have... forsaken it now."

Reginald's exhaust sputters, puffing out a ring of smoke. "You didn't choose this battle, kid. You just gotta do the best you can."

"Plus it's not like you even wanted to abandon your whatevers. Say, you get up to any cool fights back here?"

Shades flash by Reginald. Unruly dead, summarily dispatched. Nemesis grave-un-digging unions, busted.

"A fair share, funeral attendee."

"Nice job taking down the Association of Young Necromancers there!"

"Damn, even the high school rivalries at the M.C. never got THIS bloody."

Jimmy and Shelena follow, a reminder.

"What do you want from me, shades?

"Vengeance."

"Oh, and make sure they know I went to Harvard!"

"Jimmy! Jim-jim. My man. Do you really want vengeance?"

"Yes."

"But what about all the good times?"

"It was awful."

Unholy Bahamut's Gravedigger's Creed, Book III, 32:63:

"Whomsoever obstructs proper burial procedure, shall feel the Gravedigger's wrath."

"Okay, fine, but Shelena. You had a time, didn't you? What with the mint and all."

"Shut up."

Near the terminus, memory lane becomes patchy. Gaping holes lead to inky nothingness.

A light, shining, at the start. The end? Both.

The shade of the leopard conjures light around her fists and leaps in the air towards the two, followed almost immediately by twin blasts of light.

A wing, punctured.

A draconic gravedigger, an uncontrolled dive.

Straight into another light, this one all-encompassing.

Reginald banks away, his piloting awkward in the relatively tight confines of the city streets. "Damn, you're just all sunshine."

Just before the figure vanishes, a shout, booming across memorial time and space.

"JIMMY HARVARD WENT TO HARVARD."

Jimmy had taken the time to walk forward seemingly nonchalantly, a pair of cigars having found their way into his hands. "And now you - Oh!"

"It's true! I did go to Harvard!" The proud graduate beams, the fuses on the cigars in his hands burning down until they violently explode.

Though the explosion seemed to vaporize the shade, he at least dissipated with a smile on his face.