Rabbits, Robots and Roses - a Funtom Toys adventure!
My attempt to write a straightforward, standalone series-one-type tale, inspired by noticing that there are video games in the background of the Funtom Toyshop panel in volume one where we see Bitter Rabbit for the first time. Action, danger, villainy and fuzzy bunnies galore; no unseemly behavior; OC bad guy. =)
Disclaimer; I do not own the characters and situations of Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, which belong now & ever to the wonderful Yana Toboso, but I just love running around with them...
Jurgens was a thin man with cold blue eyes and a sour expression, and he looked as if the last thing he wanted to talk about was roses on rabbits' hats, which wasn't the attitude Earl Ciel Phantomhive liked to see in his managers. Especially not managers of the highly successful Soft Toy Division. He frowned as Jurgens began to set out his papers; hadn't he been scheduled to see Fleischer, the Manager in Charge?
"I apologize, milord," said Jurgens as if hearing his thought, "that my superior, Master Fleischer, cannot meet with you today. He is indisposed, and sent me in his stead."
"Very well then." Ciel glanced at the clock. He was spending two days in his townhouse to review operations in Funtom Toys' London factory, and he had a tight interview schedule; not to mention that he thoroughly hated spending time in the city. The sooner done the better. "Please proceed."
"Ahem. Yes." Jurgens straightened and met the young Earl's impatient gaze. "Sir, we have thoroughly reviewed the design proposal for the Christmas Limited Edition Bitter Rabbit, and I report that we find it inefficient as submitted." He picked up his papers. "To be specific: the proposal requests three ribbon roses per hat per rabbit, plus a bow of gilt ribbon on the hat as well as on the rabbit's neck. This is quite impractical." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, warming to the topic. "Ribbon roses must be hand-made and individually sewn on, requiring the assignment of a skilled seamstress. Skilled handwork must be paid extra wages by law, which will result in added costs and extra time added to the production of each rabbit. In addition, gilt ribbon is more costly than colored ribbon. Sir, even with a set market time and number for this design, it is simply not cost-effective."
"A pity," said Ciel, who had designed the Christmas rabbit himself. "What do you suggest?"
"Ah." The man brightened, with the air of someone who has solved your problem and expects your gratitude. "I believe we have an excellent compromise to present, milord. We have received a proposal from an Oriental import firm, Ranmao International Ltd. - " he produced a letter and held it out to Ciel - "which says it can provide pre-made ribbon roses at cost, in any color and quantity we wish."
The door of the study opened, and Sebastian entered carrying a tea tray. Ciel glanced up as he approached. The butler poured two cups in elegant silence, bowed and stepped away, flicking a quick glance at his master. The boy nodded, and Sebastian, instead of leaving, took an attentive stance at a polite distance from the table.
"So, Jurgens," said Ciel dryly, "you'd recommend that Funtom accept the proposal of this Mr. - "he glanced at the end of the document, though he already knew perfectly well whose signature would be there - "Mr. Lau?"
"Well, yes, sir." The man was slightly surprised at his tone, and hurried to explain. "The roses would be made overseas at a very reasonable price, and prompt shipping is guaranteed. All our seamstresses need do is sew them on, so the added costs and time are halved. The young master may have all the roses on his rabbits he wishes, at a fraction of the original estimate."
Jurgens smiled in exactly the way Ciel most despised: the one that said of course, this child has no understanding of business, but we will humor him since he is nominally our superior. Out of the corner of Ciel's eye he saw Sebastian smile as well - noting, as he would, the silent bristle of his young master's spine.
"And the seamstresses? What did they say?"
"Beg pardon, milord?"
"The seamstresses. Our employees," said Ciel pointedly. "What was their opinion?"
"Ah, well - " Jurgens was genuinely surprised. "Of course, they're not happy, even though this saves them time. They take some pride in their skill with details - " there was open contempt in his voice - "and of course they hoped for the extra wage they would be paid to make the roses. Christmas time, you understand, milord." The man made a dismissive gesture.
Honestly, the man sounded as if it were beneath an adult's notice to bother with such trifles. Ciel was personally offended. Fleischer (who Ciel had hired away from the prestigious German firm of Steiff three years ago to head the Soft Toys division, the first such production line in Great Britain) was at least twice Jurgens' age, and he never took such a tone; he loved every single detail of Bitter Rabbit, and the more details the better. He'd been all in favor of more roses…
The Earl turned to his butler, who came to attention at once.
"Sebastian, I recall asking you to make a few inquiries of customers at our main store here. Have you done so?"
The butler bowed. "Of course, my lord."
"And?"
Sebastian took a notepad out of his coat. "I spoke to approximately 1,500 customers at the Funtom Store over the course of five days. They were overwhelmingly in favor of the Christmas design as suggested, and more than 90% of them said they would gladly pay a higher price for a rabbit so lavishly decorated."
Ciel sipped his tea, enjoying how Jurgens fumed at this turn of events; Sebastian returned the notepad to his pocket with a feline smile. "Oh, and the preferred color for the roses was red."
"Then it's settled," said Ciel, folding the letter. "Three red roses on each hat, plus the gilt bows - "
Jurgens beamed, getting to his feet. "Shall I notify Mr. Lau, milord?"
" - and we will make them ourselves," finished Ciel. Jurgens' jaw dropped; Sebastian smiled. "Jurgens, please notify Miss Wentworth in Millinery to place an additional order for red and gold ribbon; she'll know who to call. Also tell the seamstresses there will be additional work hours for the next two months. We'll charge a higher price for the Christmas Bitter Rabbit; extra expenses will be covered and we'll still turn a profit. - I will send a memo to Payroll authorizing the handwork wages - " Ciel glanced to Sebastian, who nodeed - "and I will personally speak with Mr. Lau." He pocketed the folded letter. "Thank you, Jurgens, I believe that's all."
Deflated and plainly furious, Jurgens began to collect his papers. Sebastian coughed politely.
"Forgive me, Mr. Jurgens, but I thought the Assistant Manager of the Soft Toys Division was Mr. Knightslane. Was he also indisposed today?"
Jurgens shot a sharp look at Sebastian, as if insulted to be questioned by a mere servant. "Knightslane has been out sick for several weeks. I was called up from the Clockworks Division to cover his position until he returns."
Sebastian bowed, and Ciel added, "Please don't be concerned. I'll see to it your job in Clockworks is waiting for you when Knightslane returns." He smiled charmingly as the man bundled up his folder, bowed stiffly and left the room.
Ciel let out a "whew" and sat back in his chair. "Really, what is Lau up to? He can't have thought I'd sign such an agreement. The last thing Funtom needs is more accusations of smuggling." He glanced at the clock again. "Who do I see next, Sebastian?"
"Mr. Godwin, from Lithography. It seems he also has an issue with the Christmas design - the gold ink Young Master requested on the boxes is more expensive than our usual silver." Ciel sighed; the butler remained in place. "Your orders, sir?"
The Earl thought for a moment. "Jurgens may already be in touch with Lau; see if he's had any suspicious visitors at the plant recently. Follow up with Miss Wentworth later this afternoon to make sure the ribbon order was placed; I'm not sure I trust Jurgens to tell her. And schedule me an interview with Fleischer when he returns to work. I want to - " he stopped short, frowning.
" - Young Master?" prompted Sebastian.
"Doesn't it seem odd," said Ciel, "that both the Manager in Charge and the Assistant Manager of Soft Toys should fall ill at the same time? There's no disease making the rounds that I've heard about."
The butler's dark eyes narrowed. "It does. Which makes it rather disturbing that the sole person left in charge of your most profitable division is Mr. Jurgens - who right now is a most unhappy man."
Ciel got to his feet, his suspicions now fully roused. "Sebastian, reschedule my appointment with Godwin." He took his pistol from the top drawer. "We need to get to the factory."
A deep bow. "Yes, my lord."
That verdammte brat! Spoil everything, would he? Jurgens gritted his teeth as he pedaled furiously toward the factory. Lau had promised him all the funding he needed for his research - much more than he could spare from his Funtom salary - and even access to affordable materials, all for selling this proposal to young Master Phantomhive. He'd never imagined the boy would turn it down.
Curse the child's old-fashioned stubbornness! Why did the Clockworks Division go begging for funding, while he lavished money and attention on his silly rabbits? Mechanical games were the wave of the future! His "Cycle Race" game would have been ready for production by now, if he'd been able to get more money to design faster processors, and his epic game "World War" could not help but be a huge success if he could only -
But this work cost money, more than he'd made in the Clockworks Division, more even than he was making in the job he'd stolen from Knightslane. He dashed past cabs and loaded wagons, dodging mud and curses from angry drivers. The money the Chinaman had promised him, in return for not looking too closely at the cartons of ribbon roses - and what if there might have been a little something tucked in under the roses from time to time? Money was money and business was business, nicht wahr? But now…
Well, he would show little Phantomhive his error, and very soon. Jurgens smiled savagely as he bent over the handlebars. What do the seamstresses think, indeed.
Ciel looked up and down the block and swore under his breath. Not a cab in sight, and even if they caught one, the city traffic would delay them far too long -
"Young Master, we have no time to waste; the man may intend violence. Permit me." And with no further ado the butler scooped Ciel off his feet and sprang away like a greyhound. Ciel barely had time to get a grip on his hat before they were streaking down the alley at a breathtaking pace; Sebastian leapt easily to a low roof, then a higher one, and they raced across the city leaving the traffic far below.
"I do advise you to hold on, sir," added the butler calmly into his ear. Well, yes; much as Ciel disliked clinging to the man, it did allow one to take a dignified seat rather than hanging in his arms like so much baggage. Right hand on his hat, he got his left arm around Sebastian's neck and pulled himself upright, narrowing his eyes against the wind as he studied the London streets beneath them.
Despite their urgent errand, he couldn't help taking a moment to enjoy the view. He'd never admit it to his butler, but he found this mode of travel exhilarating, and never more so than in this great city he guarded. The winding, ancient streets, the shining road of the Thames, rolling out to the sea as the Tower Ravens must see it - it never failed to lift him out of himself, however so briefly. Ah, just look there…
-(Unnoticed by Ciel, the demon observed his expression for a moment, and purred in quiet satisfaction.)
Another second's gazing, and then Ciel set about getting his bearings. At once he was able to orient himself, and good night but the demon was quick; they had covered half the distance to the Funtom Factory in no time. Were they ahead of Jurgens? The doorman at the townhouse had said he was riding a two-wheeler, so the traffic might not have slowed him -
The demon leapt the gulf between two roofs as casually as a tiger, and the factory came into view. Ciel leaned forward in his grip to catch any sign of Jurgens, and glimpsed a bicycle tilted carelessly against the ornate black-iron gate. Were they too late? -
"Sebastian, hurry! he's here!"
They were across the street from the building when they heard the screams.
Jurgens unlocked the safe in his office, lifted out a tall box, placed it carefully upright on the floor and lifted off its lid. Sitting in it was what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary Bitter Rabbit, gazing with characteristic glumness at the floor.
The engineer chuckled and thumbed a small device on his key-chain, and the toy's button eyes lit up with a red glow; it cocked its plush head and looked up at him.
"Good-day-mas-ter," it said.
Jurgens smiled, carefully checked a gauge hidden under the brocade vest and headed for the door.
"Follow me."
"Yes-mas-ter," replied the rabbit, rolling forward.
"Seamstresses, your attention please!" Jurgens clapped his hands sharply. "I have communicated your concerns to our admirable master, Earl Phantomhive, and you will be happy to hear that the Christmas design for Bitter Rabbit has been fully approved." There was a quick buzz of excited whispering. "There will be extra hours and extra work for all, at handwork wages. Schedules will be finalized soon."
He let them chatter together for a moment and then raised a hand for silence.
"Unfortunately, none of you will be sharing in the good Earl's generosity - " he pressed the control device - "as you should all expect to be blinded in the next minute."
The women stared at him, startled and disbelieving; the clockwork rabbit rolled forward, its mouth opening grotesquely wide, and as it slowly turned its head a spray of green fluid arced out of its throat. Smoke rose from fabric and flooring as the first drops struck; the shocked women pressed away from the advancing spray, crowding toward the door as the rabbit's head inexorably continued to turn. Panicking, they jammed the doorway; one flung up her arm to protect her face and shrieked as the spray burned her skin, and others screamed as the engineer watched, gloating…
The dark butler launched them toward the factory without an instant's hesitation. Ciel jammed his hat down tightly and held on with both arms, ducking his head - he'd had no doubt Sebastian would do this - and in the next moment they had cleared the street and crashed through a second-story window, landing in a balanced crouch that would have broken a human's legs to pieces. Ciel coughed in the acrid fumes (sulfuric acid?) and tried to take in what was happening: a chaotic crush of frightened workers, screams, cries of pain, and Jurgens in the thick of it, glaring in baffled rage at the shattered window. Ciel drew his pistol and stepped forward as Sebastian set him on his feet.
"Phantomhive, you devil! How can you possibly be here so soon?"
"I'm not the devil here, you lunatic." He ignored the secretive smile on his butler's face, holding the gun trained on Jurgens. The scarred flooring and char-marked furniture confirmed his guess that the man had used a corrosive-though Ciel didn't see a bottle or sprayer anywhere, he might have more-
"Sebastian, see who's hurt! "
But Jurgens was manipulating something in his hand, and in response, a small shape on the floor - totally unnoticed before - turned and advanced toward Ciel. What - it can't be - White fur of the best plush-velvet, long pink-satin ears, tailored vest of French brocade, its top hat genuine silk: a Bitter Rabbit, last year's Easter design, mournful eyes glowing a fiendish red. It rolled swiftly forward, jaws ratcheting wider and wider, and even at such a moment he couldn't help admiring the perverted ingenuity of the thing. A weapon - a mechanical weapon, built into that -
Ciel's heart was racing, and he was keenly aware that he couldn't watch both Jurgens and his monster at once - what was it going to do? - but he kept the gun level and gave a sardonic chuckle. "I'm impressed, Jurgens. Your rabbit is far more bitter than mine."
"How do you like your pet now, eh?" Jurgens' eyes gleamed as brightly as the rabbit's. "Let's see how fast it can burn out your other eye, little Phantomhive!"
"Fare-well-Earl," grated the rabbit, and its eyes blazed red -
- he'd already begun to duck when an arc of green fluid burst from the white rabbit's mouth, directly at Ciel's face. He threw an arm over his eyes and aimed two shots at the rattle and hiss of the hydraulic pump, breath hissing through his teeth as the acid cut through his sleeve, the seamstresses screaming in horror -
And then everything happened at once: a solid weight piled into him, arms pulling him aside, and he smelled burning wool and scorched hair as he tumbled to the floor; heard women's voices, Jurgens crying "No! no!", and above it all the metallic scrape and jangle of a complicated device grinding to a slow, agonizing halt.
Ciel shook his head and sat up. Sebastian let him go, dusting himself off with a rueful look at the acid burns in his black woolen sleeve.
"An excellent shot, Young Master."
It had been, at that. He had drilled the monstrous rabbit dead-center, and it lay in its death-throes, wheels spinning, the red glow fading from its eyes. At its side knelt Jurgens, grieving, watching the rattling thing as if it were a dying child.
"Years of research," he mourned, "hours and hours of work…one of a kind…Curse you, little Earl." The man fixed him with cold china-blue eyes. "Curse you and your childish rabbits. May you fail."
"You were ready to burn and blind all these women, and you curse me? Scoundrel." He stepped up and set the muzzle of the pistol to Jurgens' head; Sebastian glided past him, knelt and tucked an arm around the man's throat.
"Coppers will be here soon, young sir," called back a seamstress.
"Ah. Then permit me to ask you just a few questions before the police arrive, Mr. Jurgens." The demon smiled sweetly and tightened his grip a fraction; Jurgens gasped for air. "My master needs medical attention, so I'd appreciate prompt replies. If you'd be so kind."
"And someone bring a dustpan," added Ciel, kicking at the scattered gears of the clockwork rabbit.
The police were not at all surprised to find Earl Phantomhive and his servant involved in the bizarre crime, and Scotland Yard even less so, but the confession Sebastian had helpfully elicited from Jurgens kept their work to a minimum. He had, as Ciel suspected, subtly poisoned both Knightslane and Fleischer to move them out of his way - Knightslane by delivering a doctored box of his favorite sweets to the office, and Fleischer by dosing his daily tea - and they should both recover as soon as they were treated with an antidote. His office in the Clockwork Division proved to contain volumes of plans and blueprints which Ciel expected to spend a good deal of time examining. Once he had spoken to Lau, he thought, this mess would be over and done with.
He withdrew from eavesdropping on the seamstresses - who, he'd been mildly amused to hear, were agreeing in hushed tones that he was quite the handsomest lad in London, and had saved all their lives, God bless him, and if it was roses he wanted they'd sew him roses from now till Christmas Eve - and addressed his butler.
"Sebastian, I still have a long list of interviews to complete. Let us return to the townhouse."
"Yes, my lord. Shall we summon a cab, or go the way we came?" A charming smile. "Though Young Master complains of the affront to his dignity, I have observed that he seems to prefer it."
"We've wasted enough time today," Ciel replied shortly, "the way we came is much faster."
"Of course, my lord." The demon bowed.
Really, such insolence.
"Ah, young Earl, you wound me. My offer was completely in earnest." The Asian's silky voice curled out of the telephone like smoke. "I do have a legitimate import company, you know."
"Which isn't named after your sister, or whoever that woman is. If your offer was genuine, why go behind my back? Why were you encouraging Jurgens?"
"Because he was correct: these mechanical playthings are the future, and you'd do well to spend more on them." He heard the puff of Lau's hookah. "Besides, have I not done you a service? That man was prepared to sell you out for nothing but money; patronage for his research. He may not be the only one."
Unpleasant thought. "I'll take care not to hire any more mad scientists. Good evening, Lau."
(All the same…perhaps, possibly, he ought to pay a little more attention to the Clockwork Division…)
"Young Master - " Sebastian stepped in to collect the tea tray - "you should retire for the night. You have a long schedule tomorrow."
" - I suppose." He rubbed his eyes. "One last thing from this morning: about the spring designs-"
"Ah, of course." Sebastian slid a folder across the mahogany desktop. "Of all the proposed designs for the spring Bitter Rabbit and Easter Bunny, these were the most popular with customers."
Ciel opened the folder and sighed: as he'd feared, it was these two. The sketched Easter Bunny wore a tiny version of Elizabeth's stylish boating costume, with matching bonnet and boots; the Bitter Rabbit wore a blue waistcoat, rose-and-veil trimmed top hat and…yes, an eyepatch. They had been designed directly after their day on the flooded river last spring, the day they'd gone to find the White Stag. How tiresome…
"Your popularity in society has continued to rise since that day," added the butler, "and I imagine, after today it will increase even more." He collected the folder. "Really, Young Master, you might try to take it with better grace. There are worse things than being regarded as a hero."
He looked at them thoughtfully: fluffy, elegant, soft white rabbits, like all their other rabbits, the design that was synonymous with Funtom Toys. Would there be interest, if they were made more modern? Made, perhaps, able to speak-like that one of Jurgens'?
But he remembered the seamstresses' gratitude; and then he suddenly imagined the Easter Bunny, in her fashionable dress, squealing "Cieeeel!" in Lizzie's ear-piercing tones -
He winced, and pushed his chair back from the desk.
"I think they'll be fine just as they are."
Footnote:
I do realize that I'm presenting a highly idealized version of the relationship between Victorian factory employees and their employers here. Even though Kuro happens in an alternate universe, it's more than likely that the people (probably women and children) who produce Ciel's plushies work an exhausting schedule for wages we'd consider scarcely better than slavery. (That's why I decided to depict the seamstresses as very grateful for a chance to make more money and willing to work even longer hours to get it.) And Ciel, who likes his sense of aristocrat privilege, probably sees nothing wrong with that.
However, there are two other things I feel justified to say about Ciel: (1) He's a pretty fair-minded kid for a noble, and prefers to deal with you on your own merits rather than on your social status. (He doesn't think it beneath him to watch TV with his gardener; he's honestly shocked when Hannah expects him to beat her; he has no problem dismissing Soma as a useless brat, even though he's royalty). (2) He doesn't seem like the type who'd cut corners or skimp on quality. He's so fiercely proud of his family name and sets such high standards for himself that I just have the feeling he wants Funtom Toys to be the best toys money can buy, and would go the extra mile for the best materials and workmanship every time. So I think he would spend the extra money to get in-house handmade roses for his bunnies, and he would stand up for his employees rather than let their work be outsourced, and as a result they would love him to bits. (Though of course it doesn't hurt that he's also brave, dashing, handsome AND just rescued them from a dastardly plot to force them and their familes into destitution… =)