A/N: So, my first story, I hope it isn't too ooc. Please review when you are done.

Disclamer:I do not own Kuroshitsuji. No, really.

He had heard rumors, and they turned out to be true.

Charles Gray, agent of the government that had been searching for these traitors for the past six years: Earl Ciel Phantomhive, heir to the Phantomhive lands and titles and his guardian Sebastian Michaelis. Sebastian had taken the young earl out of England in order to protect him from his duties to the Queen.

But now the Queen had found him, in this small bar in Costa Rica, where her agent walked in through the door and was slightly blinded by the bright murals on the walls despite the dim lighting in the bar. Charles Gray looked for his quarry, and found him behind the bar.

Phantomhive, a small skinny boy for the age of sixteen, was standing behind the bar reading a book. Laws in this Middle American country were lax enough to allow a boy under the drinking age to serve alcohol, and potentially do some drinking behind the bar. Of course from what Charles Gray knew, Phantomhive had a delicate constitution, so it wasn't like anyone was going to catch him drinking anything stronger than wine. And besides, it was three o'clock in the afternoon, only the most devoted of drinkers were in the bar right now, and they wouldn't be having their bartender arrested anytime soon.

One of the customers spoke up: "Oye! Muchacho! Mas de la vodka!"

Charles watched as the boy lifted his head, revealing one eye to be covered by a black eye patch. Then he bent down to get a large bottle from behind the bar that was filled halfway with clear spirits. It almost seemed too big for the slender boy to pick up, but his hand was steady as he refilled the glass. It seemed that he was going to stop at about two fingers, but the customer encouraged him with nods until the glass was brimming.

He shrugged and stooped to set the bottle back out of sight. When he straightened up again he looked around the bar and spotted Charles.

Charles took that as his cue to abandon his position by the door and walk up to the bar, keeping one eye on Phantomhive, the other on his surroundings should the black haired fiend show up to interrupt the two of them.

He was careful to keep his face in a calm friendly expression, both his predecessors in this hunt had tried for the extremes, the first one thought he could just bully and browbeat Phantomhive into obedience, the second was overly friendly and jokey. Both had been found in the nearest large body of water without their heads. The closest that the analysts can figure was that Phantomhive had some sort of panic button that would alert his leathal servant to his distress and bring him running.

So Charles would have to be careful, it would be tricky to watch Phantomhive's hands while they were mostly hidden behind the bar, but he could do it.

"Earl Phantomhive," he began, careful to keep his face calm and friendly, but not too friendly. "Do you know why I am here?"

"Yes." The boy looked at him, his face unreadable, and his single dark blue eye blank.

"You know that you don't need to keep running, England is willing to take care of you. There will be a place in the new British Empire for you."

The boy continued to say nothing. But both his hands were safely on the counter, which meant that there seemed to be no alarm in him.

"What happened to your parents was an accident, wires got crossed in the orders. It was never supposed to happen." Charles said.

Rachel and Victor Phantomhive, last of the elite group of the league known as the Evil Noblemen had been scapegoats, Charles knew, their deaths were used to unite England once more, especially since there was no need for that particular group anymore. Their deaths had paved the way for Charles' organization.

But there was no reason for the boy to know that.

Phantomhive's hand flew to his eye patch, and then just as quickly lowered it, just briefly brushing the black surface of the patch with the tips of his fingers.

Charles paused for a moment, gazing with interest at the black patch, it was said that Phantomhive had lost that eye either in the "accident" that he had lost his parents in or when he had disappeared into the murky, lawless underground in which children were bought and sold and sometimes used in occult rituals. But Charles had different information, the files on the Phantomhives said that, allegedly, each Phantomhive was born with a certain birthmark, and this particular Phantomhive was born with it on his eye. It was hard to know because his family had spent so much time out of the public eye, no one knew the reason for the boy's patch.

He brought his thoughts back on track. "You know that your fiancée misses you too, and your aunt."

The boy's mouth tightened, but that was the only reaction that he showed.

Stroke and slap, stroke and slap. "Of course if you were to come back, all of your estates and wealth has been protected. We know that a wrong has been done to you, and England wishes to make amends."

Once again the boy's face turned perfectly blank. And despite himself, Charles began wondering again about the possibility of a secret, genetic birthmark that marked out all Phantomhives.

He chanced a small smile, just enough to soften his features. "You can be great again." He took out his card. "We can speak again soon." He stood from his seat at the bar and turned to leave.

"Wait." Phantomhive reached out to grab his sleeve. He paused, biting his lip, "come on," he muttered. And he led Charles to the door, he called over his shoulder: "Bard! Watch the bar!"

A tall man smoking a cigarette with shaggy blonde hair nodded and heaved himself out of his seat to make his way over to the counter.

Phantomhive led Charles through a series of alleyways until the two of them came out to an empty plaza with a fountain in the center and no shade.

"What is this place called?" He asked Phantomhives' back.

"La Plaza del Fuego de Dios." His spoke the fluid language flawlessly. And he nodded to a small church that was opposite them. It was shaped from tan stone and looked dusty and abandoned.

Charles looked around carefully to see whether there was anyone around. There was none. He looked back at the boy waiting for him to speak first. His back was to him.

"Do you know why we were called the Evil Noblemen?" Phantomhive asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"My father told me just before he died," Phantomhive went on, ignoring Charles. "The entire organization took the name but it was originally for the Phantomhives alone." Phantomhive glanced at him over his shoulder. "We are called that because each and every one of us is born with a sin."

Something about the way that the boy said 'sin' made Charles' skin crawl.

"Most children are born a clean slate, but not the Phantomhives, they have a sin that dwells in their very bloodline. And not a simple one like pride, or the tendency to gluttony, but the worst sin, do you know what that is?"

Charles shook his head, and then quickly realizing that the boy would have not seen him spoke: "No." he thought that he sounded nervous. He watched Phantomhive reach behind his head and pull loose the knot that held the patch in place.

"Conspiring with the Devil." Phantomhive turned to look at him, and Charles saw that his eye, the eye that was supposed to be gone, was instead branded with a symbol that he had never seen before.

He sensed a presence behind him, and whirled around.

"He's very good, young master, the other two didn't sense me before." Standing before Charles was the damnable servant who had interfered with his organization before. But now, looking at his black hair, and his black clothing, and his red eyes, a terrifying notion hit Charles.

Something held him frozen in place as the servant reached out and wrapped his hands around his throat, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the same symbol that was on Phantomhives' eye was also on the back of the servants left hand.

There was a moment of pain as his throat was squeezed, and then nothing.

Ciel didn't look away as Gray's body slumped to the ground, blood running freely from his crushed throat. Although his stomach did turn at the sight of all the red, it brought back too many uncomfortable memories, from before Sebastian found him.

"You remind me of your Grandfather."

"What?" he demanded irritably.

"Your grandfather, young master, he also had a weak stomach. Your father was a bit stronger, but then your mother was a frail woman."

"Do you think we will need to move again?" Ciel immediately hated himself for how young he sounded when he said those words. And that he sounded weak enough so that he was trying to change the subject.

But Sebastian was too good a butler to comment. "I think not, young master, from what your father said before, Charles grey was a confident man, he wouldn't be one to report mere speculation before a confirmation."

"You were watching him, you knew he was here." Ciel accused.

"It was my original plan for him to never get to you at all." Sebastian bowed.

"But you let him anyway." He growled.

Sebastian said nothing, just smirked and bowed again.

Ceil shook his head, there were some things you just couldn't win, no matter how much it irked him to admit that. "Get rid of that. I'm going back to the bar."

Sebastian bowed at his young master's retreating back.