~Part 1~
"Hey Sebastian," Ciel is leaning up against the window of his meat pie shop, Mr. Phantomhive's. He stares at the new business moving in across the street. He can smell the success from across the street. London has tough competition these days, and he couldn't exactly afford that at the moment. With the tough economy and all, it was hard to come by good meat, let alone any. "How do you feel about 'cat' pies?"
The man in the background behind the counter is busying himself with the squashing of cockroaches. "I quite adore cats, Master Ciel. At least make it 'dog' pies. I would enjoy eating those treacherous things instead."
The young boy sighs and drags his leaden feet over to the booth, sits down on the U-shaped couch and takes a sip of gin. His grayish-blue hair shimmers in the dull light of the meat shop, "'Cause there's no place like London." He takes another sip. His worried hands rub his face, and one of his hands slips under his eye-patch to massage his closed eye. "What are we ever going to do, Sebastian? You're the miracle worker over there."
Sebastian picks up the rolling pin on the counter and slams it down on another revolting bug. He smirks at the boy with determined eyes, "I am not a miracle worker..."
Ciel saw this line coming for miles and lip-synced with him with that teenager attitude and a rolling eye.
"I am just simply one Hell of a barber."
"I know that! You've only said it a bajillion times!" He takes in a deep breath and lets it all out at once. His head drops and hits the circular table below him, which has a pile of dust on it. "That business...they're new. What in the bloody hell are we ever going to do? It's not like we can drive them out of business."
"You're a Phantomhive," Sebastian says with a firm voice, "figure it out yourself. You've got a brain, don't you? It is pitiful that you are asking a simple game piece like me for advice."
"You're my protector," Ciel said into the table-dust, "you were supposed to help me. It's in the contract."
Sebastian couldn't say anything back, it was true that he was supposed to help him when he needed help. He began to think. He rolled up his puffy white sleeves and leaned his forearms on the flour-covered counter. He looked outside to the people frantically moving like squirrels to get the place ready for business tomorrow. His red, demon eyes flashed with an idea, "How many people are there? Two? Three?"
Ciel lifts his head up the table with effort, looking like he just woke up, "What is your devilish mind thinking of?"
Sebastian continued to stare out the window at the people. He pulled one of his fingerless knitted gloves off with his mouth. "Oh, just thinking." He takes out a razor and gazes into the harsh silver, his reflection staring back at him. It's any demon's wish, he thinks. Just the simple joy of slicing into the foolish humans. The sound of them screaming as they try to run away with the biggest grin painted upon my lips. They are foolish, he doesn't even understand how they could still be surviving. But he has become accustomed to their culture and their adorable pets.
He walks over to his young master. There is a white cloth that hangs out from in between his leather belt and his blue, white pinstriped pants. He slips it out and rubs Ciel's forehead with it. He shoves it back in between his belt and pants and continues to walk, the heels of his black shoes clicking against the worn down, dull wood of the floor. He looks at the people: one fat and short, another tall and skinny, one old and the other young. The plump one stopped and looked back at him and waved strangely. Sebastian stood bored, motionless.
He continued to stare as he queerly restarted his job of moving materials in the building. "Why don't we use people?"
"For what?" Ciel stumbles out of his seat and walks over to be next to the demon. He looks out at the man also, his chubby face forms into a tomato in his mind's eye. He came to a realization; the answer was right in front of him the entire time. "Humans for meat?"
Sebastian smirks, his black hair is casting a sinful shadow over his flaming eyes, "You learn well, young Master." He looks down at Ciel, whose bright, blue eye is aflame with confidence as he looks out at the men. His laced, black glove reaches out at him, yearning for a successful business. Possibly a clean slate. His red bow tie shimmers in the dull light of London, along with his black jacket with bright gray swirl patterns adorning it. His shoulders are frosted with a perfect line of black, plastic beads, and feathers that are lined with red.
Sebastian holds the top of his jacket between his pointer fingers and thumbs and let go. A cloud of dust bursts out and slowly settles to the floor. He grabs his black top hat from the table that is decorated with a red ribbon, which seems to be dangling off the brim like dribbling blood. He gently places it on his master's head.
"It is time to go out to the market," Ciel instructs him of his evening plans. "Then you must go back to business since you are the one that is doing decent these days."
Sebastian is behind his master, and the only way he can follow him through the crowd is to keep an eye on his bright red pants with their black pinstripes. There is a crowd gathering around an area with a stage. A man comes out from behind navy blue curtains, wearing quite an extravagant outfit. It looks like it is made from the curtains. His top hat is small, but it looks as if the top is ripped off and stretched. His eyes are hidden by his near-white bangs and hair. He is Mr. Undertaker, the creator of the hair elixir.
He begins his advertisement loud and clear, "Buy my elixir! It's simply the best and will make your hair grow long and silky! It is the best you will ever have to make your scalp shiver with joy!" He takes the cap off the bottle, the wind picks up the scent and drags it across the air. "You sir!" He points at a bald man up front and shakes the bottle above his head, causing a couple of droplets to splash upon his scalp. "Doesn't it just feel great? Doesn't it just stimulate your pores? It's a great thing, this elixir! So get a bottle! Maybe two or three!" He tosses a bottle into the audience.
Ciel gets a whiff of the the hair elixir, "Is that piss or ink? I can't seem to tell."
Sebastian's nose is the next to cringe at the scent, "Shit with some floral perfume? That reeks more than rotten meat. Does it not, Master?"
"Of course it does!"
Mr. Undertaker freezes in his steps, "Who dares call my elixir poo?" He begins to laugh insanely. "Oh! Fool, you are! Who called my fantastic hair elixir this?"
Sebastian looks at the ground, debating if he should step forward or leave the stupid man hanging, "It was I, Sebastian Michaelis."
Everyone in front of him turns to stare at him. Everyone behind him gasps like it was a giant mistake.
Mr. Undertaker makes the next statement loud and clear, "Mr. Shithead. That is quite a fitting name. Well, I will take your challenge, so move your tiny ass up here before I come down to do it for you!" He laughed wildly, almost falling over.
Sebastian cocks an eyebrow at him, he didn't make an offer for a challenge, did he? He thought he just called his elixir shit, right?
Well, that didn't really matter to him. He meanders through the crowd to the stage. He walks up the steps slowly, getting his razors out and warmed up. His metal heels clicked on the wood as he approached the back of an empty chair.
Ciel looks out at him from the audience, mouthing out those words that he sometimes loved: I order you to win.
His smile turns into the Cheshire Cat's as he sharpens the glinting blade of one of his razors. His eyes flicker to a brighter red, fire taking over his demonic blood, "Yes, my lord."
Mr. Undertaker looks over at him, "Are you talking to yourself, nutjob?"
Sebastian looks up as if nothing happened, "Of course not, I was talking to your soon-to-be corpse. So, what are we getting if we win? Five quid?"
He shrugs, "If you win, sure. If I do, I want to hear your darkest secret."
"Deal."
He turns out to the crowd and lets out a large yell, "Who wants a free shave?"
Two men jump up onto the stage and shove each other out of the way to sit in the cushioned chair of the much esteemed Mr. Undertaker. The other hangs his head limply in disappointment. He drags his feet over to the other seat and collapses into the other chair with a loud sigh.
Sebastian pulls out a large, white cloth and drapes it over the man's body, tying the back together behind his neck. "I assure you the closest shave." He looks over into the audience, "Mr. Phantomhive, would you like to be the judge?"
He nods his head, not even the slightest smile wrinkling his cheeks, "I would be honored." He walks through the crowd and walks up the first couple of steps and onto the stage, the red heels of his shoes clacking against the boards. He sits down and looks up to Sebastian, "Sebastian, watch." He holds out his hand, the black lace of his gloves is free from his fingers's grip, his palm wide open for the watch.
He reaches below his leather vest and pulls out his pocket watch with the chain and places it in his master's hand. "Very well, young master."
Ciel speaks out to the audience in a most formal manner, "To determine the winner of this contest, the one with the cleanest, fastest, smoothest shave will win. Is that clear, gentlemen?" He turns to look at the retired grim reaper and the demon behind him.
They nod their heads, and Mr. Undertaker's ends with a large laugh, "I will kill you at this!"
Ciel presses the button at the top of the watch, "Begin."
Sebastian takes his time to put the shaving cream on, he knows he will win, simply because he was ordered to.
Mr. Undertaker puts on the cream and notices Sebastian carefully placing it on the other man's face, "Ah, a man of perfection, I see. Or is it a man of petty concerns?" He takes one stroke with the razor and begins to crack up at his own joke. The blade is withdrawn so he can hysterically laugh and not slice the man with his razor.
Sebastian, being the barber he is, takes a razor in both hands and quickly flashes them against the flesh of the man, finishing his shave within mere seconds. It is a clean shave, yet a very close one. But he is too fast for the man to even notice that he has done.
Ciel presses the button on his watch a second time, not even looking back to check if Sebastian is truly done. The demon takes the cloth off the man and uses it to clean off his razors.
Mr. Undertaker looks at him, his jaw almost hitting the ground. "So...so sublime!" he doesn't laugh, he wouldn't dare because of his terrible loss.
Sebastian smiles his little kitty smile and holds out his palm to him. He gestures to the man for his money, he did win fair and square.
Mr. Undertaker sighs loudly and takes out his dainty coin purse.
Ciel stands up and walks over to Sebastian, gliding in his two inch heels. He stands there, about to say that he wasn't impressed in the least, but he had to notice the purple coin bag. He could only give him a strange look and a "What the bloody hell is that?"
"It's my coin sack," Mr. Undertaker said matter-of-factly.
"Coin sack?" Ciel never heard it called that. He looked up at the barber for his call on the situation and he shrugged his shoulders. "What the bloody hell is a 'coin sack?'"
Mr. Undertaker holds out his five quid towards Sebastian and opens his mouth to start explaining. But Sebastian rips it out of his hand, places it in the inside pocket of his vest and directs Ciel to the stairs, "We know what a coin purse is, but thank you for trying to explain." They leave the man with his mouth half open.
Ciel and Sebastian have time to kill while they wait for night. Ciel has a plan Sebastian doesn't know about, but he is involved. Sebastian keeps to himself upstairs in his room, waiting for a customer of some sort to waltz in. He sits in the black chair with metal buttons sewn into it. The arms are quite long and wide. He sits with his legs comfortably crossed while sharpening his razor's blades. He sings to himself, "Monochrome blows though our colorless encounter. I shall entrust each of my pains to you–––."
He is cut off by an interesting conversation outside, a man's voice drifts in through the window. He wants to listen, "I would love to go to that barber. What's his name again?"
"I don't know, sounded italian even though he clearly wasn't," the other man points out.
"Oh, I do remember that pasty skin and those ruby eyes."
"More like blood-filled eyes. Plus, it seems like he'd have better hair if he cuts hair for a living. I mean, it looked atrocious!"
Sebastian straightens his bangs and looks at his black, silky hair. "I like my hair," he mumbles to himself, "What's wrong with my hair?" He continues to stare at it as the men walk up the stairs. The door swings open and Sebastian stands up from the chair. "Good day, gentlemen. May I offer you a shave?" He gestures the chair he just vacated; the black chair that could possibly be owned by Satan himself.
"I would love one," the first man says as he walks over and sits down in the chair, "how much would it be?"
"I'll discuss that matter later, kind sir," Sebastian says. He drapes a red cloth over the man and ties a knot in the back behind the man's neck.
The second man tells his buddy that he is going to go to the market to do some shopping, and he'd be back to pick him up. The door closes behind him and his footsteps are heard walking down the stairs.
Sebastian continues to sharpen his blade, "So how was your day, sir?"
He completely zones out as the man answered with his daily schedule. He hears Ciel's voice in his head, "Kill him while the other one is not around, that's an order."
The man finishes speaking and Sebastian says his infamous line, replying to his master's command, "Yes, my lord."
"Ah, I am nothing more than a regular citizen," the man says. The man thinks his words are directed at him. "But that is a very kind thought of you to think mister...what was your name again? I can't seem to recall it."
Sebastian walks up to the back of the chair with his razor in hand. "Sebastian Michaelis. It is quite a difficult name to remember for some. But a small brain is good, that just means you have more braun."
"Did you just call me stupid?"
Sebastian chuckles with his cat-like smile, "Of course not! Some people are just much more strong than smart. Referring to the saying 'all braun and no brains.' You must just have more meat on you, is all."
"You mean muscle, right?"
The barber holds his blade up to the skylight, and the razor glistens in the dim night glow of the London sun that is covered by clouds.
"If you would like to think that, sure." He swipes his hand down quickly. He is a perfect arm's length away and the blade sinks into the man's neck just right. He forces it in farther as blood spews out like a sprinkler. He dies within seconds, such a lively death. Blood still pours out of his neck and his clothes are his sponge. "'Cause there's no place like London," Sebastian holds his razor up to the window again to look at it with a sense of satisfaction. He liked the fresh red tint of blood on his razor.
He hears Ciel's voice in his head again "Please put him in something and bring it down. We will discuss the rest later. That's an order."
Sebastian smiles with softly shut eyes, "Yes, my lord." His eyes open again, and they're just as devilish as they were before, except that they were searching for something this time. There was only one thing big enough in that small room to fit a body in, and that was the wooden chest that is hugging the wall.
He walks across the room and opens the chest. It looks roomy, roomy enough to fit a corpse that will be used for meat pies. He walks back over to the chair and throws the man over his shoulder.
Sebastian places the body inside of the chest, creating a coffin for the man and future people. He closes the top and goes to pick it up to carry to his master, but he notices the giant blotch of red on the shoulder of his white shirt. He looks around the room for something to cover it, he can't let anyone see the blood in brood daylight.
There is a black jacket in the corner of the room, it practically has a pile of dust piled on top of it with occasional spider webs.
He picks it up and shakes it off. He puts it on and it covers his stain perfectly. He lifts up the "coffin" and hauls it out the door effortlessly. He meets the other man on the steps. "Your friend left so soon," he says. "I finished quickly. But he told me to tell you that he went home. Would you like a shave soon, sir?"
He looks at him weird, "That's strange. He's not the type who likes to be alone. How long did you say it took you to shave him?"
Sebastian clutches the handles tighter; they were beginning to get soaked with blood. He kept cool. "Not long, kind sir. I am simply one Hell of a barber. But I have to go deliver something to Mr. Phantomhive in the meat shop. So if you don't mind, I will do that quickly. You just wait at the bottom of the steps and I'll be back soon."
He gives the man an assuring smile and walks off into the shop. He spots Ciel starting up his daily work by making the dough for the meat pies.
He looks up at him, his blue eye shimmering with determination and excitement, "You got him?"
"Of course," Sebastian sets the chest on the ground and opens it to show the thirteen year old boy, "You know I'd never fail you, young master." He shuts the top and picks it up. He stands, waiting for his master's next order.
Ciel walks out from behind the counter and stops in between the lounging room and the working room. There is a hall in between the two rooms, one that descends into dark shadows until it hits a metal door. His laced, fingerless gloves reach in and press against the door handle. He forces open the metal door and lets Sebastian in.
The tall man walks in, dumping the chest upside down to let the corpse flop to the ground, and leaves.
"Now you can put him in the meat grinder. I have further business to do, a man is on the steps waiting for a 'shave'."
"You told him that his friend left?"
"Of course I did, but it made me sick. I don't understand how humans can lie without feeling the guilt rise up in them."
"Here, they are filled with shit 'cause there's no place like London!"
"Watch your mouth."
"No can do, Sebastian." He walks into the cellar and closes the metal door behind him.
Sebastian sighs with defeat, "He will never learn, will he?" He picks the chest back up, "Hm, much lighter." He walks out of the shop and sees the man resting on the steps.
The man stood up, "Why did you come back with the chest?"
Sebastian smiles at his entertaining thoughts, Foolish humans. They need to learn a thing or two. "Oh, that is none of your business, sir. I just simply needed an easier way to carry a certain thing, so I used this. Are you ready for your shave?"
The man steps to the side and holds his arm out towards the steps, "Lead the way."
Sebastian smiles, "That's very kind of you, sir. But customers must always go first."
The man had no argument and went up the steps first. He opens the door and holds it open for Sebastian. The demon throws the chest to the other side of the room using one hand and it lands perfectly on the ground. Sebastian closes the door behind him and stands there with a smile. He tilts his head down and his bangs cover his eyes. He laughs lowly, "May I ask, what is wrong with my hair?"
"What do you mean?" the man seems confused at first, but comes to realization about the conversation before. "Oh my! I'm so sorry that you heard that. Wow, wait. You heard that?"
"I did indeed. I believe you said something about a person who cuts hair that I should have a better hair cut. I quite like my hair." He reaches to his side and pulls out one of his razors, "Hello, my friend. I missed you."
"Who are you talking to?"
"Oh, no one." He holds it comfortably in between two fingers and flicks his wrist. It flies out of his hand and hits the man in the throat. He smiles his catlike smile. "That's one less piece of scum on the planet." He takes the razor out of the front of the man's neck and pushes him in the chest.
He starts to sing the song that he was singing before, "I shall entrust each of my pains to you. The unforgiving autumn, which forcefully traces my scars, comes while your cool fingers still beckon me." He walks out of the door and closes it behind him with his foot.
The bell that hangs just above the door jingles.