Disclaimer: Nothing is mine besides the plot. Much of the beginning of this chapter was taken from the Petshop of Horrors 10. Any dialogue before "Do you know if he ever made it?" is not mine. But any after that is mine.
A/N: This is my first Petshop of Horrors fanfiction. This is set just after the end of the last PoH... Actually, the first half of this chapter actually is the end of the last book. Please read and review... If you have any ideas for episodes, please feel free to share them with me. I will give credit!
The city was alive this morning, filled with people walking on the streets, on their way to work or on their way home from a hard night of partying. Inside the headquarters of FBI, the detectives were already hard at work.
"You've gotta be kidding me. Another one?" One asked, collapsing with a sigh into his swivel chair.
"Yes, the victim's a young male, 27 years of age. And like the others he had recently paid a visit to a pet shop in Chinatown." A pretty woman, blonde hair done up in a tight bun, replied.
"This one's mine!" Chris Orcot grabbed his jacket from the coat-rack, running out the door before anyone could stop him.
"Huh? Hey, Orcot! Wait!"
Chris walked down the city streets; his jacket hung from one finger, draped over his back. The rays of the sunlight caught his blue eyes, making them twinkle with life. The bustling sounds of the city rang in his ears, and his nose was assaulted by the smells of Chinese food. He had reached his destination: a quaint pastry shop. He walked in, and headed for the counter. He was greeted by a squat Chinese man, with a bald head and a handlebar moustache. "I'll take some cherry tarts. Lots of them."
A few minutes later, the young man found himself banging on the door of a tiny shop, so small it took up next to no space on the streetfront. "This is the FBI! Open up! I have some questions for you!" He called to whomever was inside.
"If they're about that poor man's accident, then there is nothing more to discuss." A feminine voice called back through the closed door.
"They're not," Chris replied, "They're about your father, actually."
"Father isn't here right now."
"Well, that's a shame. I brought him some cherry tarts." Chris smiled to himself. It was only a matter of time, now. Count D couldn't resist sweets. It was a miracle his teeth hadn't rotted away…
The door opened, and a young man. He was about six inches shorter than Chris was, with sleek black hair and a pretty face. Dressed in a kimono, this man could have easily been mistaken for a woman, had Orcot not known better. "Well, we can't have those go to waste. Would you like some tea?"
Chris nodded and followed the man inside. The two sat across from each other, in comfortable plush chairs. The smell of incense wafted in the air, and Chris inhaled the familiar scent. It was so comforting to him, it reminded the man of his childhood. "I was wondering… 20 years ago, my older brother, Leon, left to return something to Count D. something that the count had left behind. Do you know if he ever made it?"
"I do not know… I have not seen my father in a long time. He is out of the country." D replied, smiling at Chris. A small line of cherry jam ran from his lip, like blood.
"Oh, I see." Chris nodded, taking a sip of tea. It was far too sweet, more sugar than actual tea. The first time he had tried it, back when he still lived with the Count, he had almost gagged. But this time, he expected it. "Just out of curiousity, what did you sell that man anyway?"
"What man?" The young count smiled pleasantly, eyes wide and shining with innocence.
"The one they found yesterday in his apartment, half-eaten." Chris replied casually, watching D with interest.
D frowned, looking down at the floor. "Oh, that man. So tragic… I sold him a dog. It must have turned on its master… I wonder what that awful man did to provoke it?" A spark of anger flashed across his face, which Chris noted to himself. This one was much more open with his emotion than his father was.
"Apparently nothing… He had plenty of toys, the brushes and combs looked like they had been used, there was still food in his bowl…"
"Bowl?" D snapped, looking up suddenly. "Well, no wonder he attacked him… I gave him plenty of warning. He signed the contract."
Chris nodded his head, asking, "So was the man supposed to feed the dog from a plate or something?"
"Yes, yes… The dog he chose was… quite sophisticated… It would only eat so called 'people food'," The Count made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "Off of a plate. Seated at the table…"
"But, it's an animal."
"Aren't we?"