Gus Kinney: Hello there i have a new black butler story here now how i came up with this this i watched a movie and boom lol so i hope you give it a chance so here we go chapter So it begins.
A tense silence had fallen across the London Precinct while their dedicated commissioner flew off the handle after his case had been stolen, yet again, by none other than, Ciel Phantomhive. In-between his bouts of anger you could hear a pin drop. Nobody dared question or criticize him at this point, not unless they wished to be stuck in the office doing paperwork for the rest of the year. Arthur Randall would calm down eventually. Hopefully he would be distracted by some more, less high profile cases that the Queen wouldn't take an interest in.
The rest of London's finest were as in the dark as their fuming commissioner was about why the Queen had taken so much interest in the particular case, but at the same time they had almost expected her watchdog to come in and handle it. There was no point in complaining about something they couldn't chance. "Who the hell does he think he is? Just how long does he think he can keep this up? That brat isn't even qualified for this level of detective work!"
He paused and looked to Detective Abberline, who was rummaging through a filing cabinet for the rest of the case files. Abberlin started and quickly nodded, agreeing with his superior (despite having not been paying any attention). The newly promoted Detective was easily shaken by Randall's outbursts, and had yet grown to expect them. He hadn't known how to cope with them at first, and followed the rest of the equally frustrated herd. This was one of the times Abberline would have preferred fading into the background with the rest of them, but lately he couldn't catch a break.
There was a change in atmosphere when the front door opened, a burst of chilly air rushing in from the bustling street outside. Arthur paused in his ramblings and turned, half expecting to find Ciel's butler standing there. His eyes narrowed behind wire-framed glasses as he watched the intruder swagger in as if he owned the place. An air of confidence hung about him, but it clung to the border of arrogance, and often bounced back and forth between the two. As gentle as a kitten at times, then, when need be, that innocence melting away to reveal a cruel and merciless nature that lurked just beneath the surface. In the right light his hair was easily mistaken for a dingy crimson. The young man's open, burgundy coat billowed out behind him as he walked and a thin enveloped was nestled between the long fingers on his gloved left hand.
The officer in charge of watched the front desk scrambled to stop him from sauntering into the main bullpen, but it was a lost cause. Any orders for him to 'stop where he was' and 'come back' had fallen on deaf ears. By time the officer had stumbled into the back room, the young man had already found his target. He boldly walked up to the commissioner and forcefully requested a moment in private, mischief gleaming in gold eyes.
Randall straightened his waistcoat and motioned the taller man into his office, watching him with trained eyes. He didn't trust the youngster any farther than he could throw him, he reminded him too much of the Phantomhive boy. Then again, the young man didn't think to highly of Randall either, or Scotland Yard in general. Stories of corrupt officers were spreading amongst London's citizens, and one by one they were starting to lose their faith in the police as well.
The young man folded himself into the chair across from Randalls cluttered desk and eyed the dingy room with contempt. Dust floated through the air and visions of the place on fire floated through his head. But that's all they were, passing thoughts. He would never do something that reckless unless someone had provoked him into doing it. And even then he would deny it with his last breath. While he did have some issues with impulse control, he had never done something that bad. Knocking his mother's prized crystal vase off the table as a dare? Yes. Burn down the police station because it was a disorganized fire hazard? No. Although he did have a fondness for fire. All the swirling hues of orange and yellow were enough to put him into a trance.
The young man slid the envelope onto the desk and looked on as Randall examined the seal on the envelope, thinking he would be able to distinguish a coat of arms, only to find a skull embedded in the black wax. "What's this about?"
The man threw his hands up in surrender and he cooly explained, "Does it look like I've read it? I'm just the messenger, don't shoot me." Something about the almost velvet quality of his voice threw Randall to distrust him even more. He's just like that damned butler.
Randall's brow creased with frustration as he tore off the seal and skimmed the contents of the letter, his mouth settling in a hard line. "Who sent you?"His tone was clipped, and he barely managed to contain another bout of rage.
The young man looked around as if he might have been followed, then leaned forward in the creaky chair, dropping his voice to a low, almost hypnotic whisper. "That's classified."
"Classified!"
Taken aback at the outburst, the man leaned back a few micro inches and nodded. "It'd cause problems for them if I was to say. And like I said, I'm only the messenger. It's not my place."
Randall huffed and rose from his chair, splaying his hands on the desk while the stranger leaned back in the chair. The commissioner felt attacked and was lashing out, this letter combined with earlier events weren't helping him. However, the young stranger hid a smirk, having expected this sort of reaction from the beginning. He had done his homework before coming here. "It is when you have just threatened a police officer, do you wish to be arrested?"
Pretending to be interested, and he hadn't seen the letter himself, the young man tried stealing a glance at the thin sheet of parchment. "Why, what does it say?"
"As if you don't know! You're the one who wrote it!"
The young man slowly rose from his chair and mimicked Randall's pose, the only difference being the young man actually appeared menacing. His voice was calm when he spoke, and he maintained his control while Arthur allowed his rage to cloud his judgement. "Are you trying to slander my good name? Here I was thinking this was the safest place I could possible be in the city and yet it would appear I should have to suffer abuse at the hands of London's so-called finest as well. I'm ashamed for having made the mistake of thinking you better than the one-track bigoted minds that lurk just outside these doors. Perhaps this is why you have received such an upsetting document."
Randall fell silent while the man rose to his full height and drew his coat closed, silently threatening to leave. But the man's movements were slow and deliberate, he knew that their business wasn't quite done. He was going to give Randall ample time to recollect himself and say what needed to be said. Only then would he truly take his leave. Randall seated himself again while the man remained standing, and began, "Tell me…" Arthur paused, fishing for a name but the man wasn't going to give him one. His cousin would have gotten snippy with him if his 'beloved' police commissioner started to think he was the one who had sent him here. The last thing the man wanted was to spend a tense afternoon with his cousin until they ended up playing some overly meaningful game or started arguing in metaphors until his mother came in and chided them both for acting like children. In his defense, he was the more mature of the two. "What do you have to say about the performance of this department?"
Completely undermining his previous statement, or enhancing it depending on the person, he replied, "I have been away for quite some time. I've only been back from Germany about a month, but if anything remains the same I have no problem placing my trust in the hands of you and your men. Unless something has gone wrong in my absence." The young man paused and tipped his head to the side, "Why do you ask?"
Arthur was momentarily speechless, then his eyes narrowed and he commented, "you seem to have had a different opinion just a moment ago."
"I've never said that. I've only said what I've heard while in town. It's a shame the people have so little faith in you. Then again, I've heard the same being said about the Phantomhive boy… Ciel is it? It seems they don't know who they trust more, but they do seem to favor him since he has had many audience with the Queen herself. She's handpicked him to do her bidding."
Randall fell silent again. trying to organize his thoughts, but the man chose now to take his leave and put an end to the topic at hand. "If that will be all I must get going. I am a very busy man."
The young man had hardly taken two steps out the door when Randall's chair could be heard scraping across the wooden floor and he called after his visitor, "I won't be backing down! Tell them that!"
The young man waved off Randall's comment as if it had been an annoying fly, "Tell them yourself when they come. My job here is done."
Once Arthur was sure the man was out of earshot he tossed the nearest pile of papers to the floor and paced around his office. The precinct looked on as their Commissioner lost his composed yet again, and collectively wondered what the retreating figure had said to upset him so much.
The doors to Scotland Yard closed for the last time that morning, and the young man climbed into the waiting carriage. A dreary sigh escaped him as he sunk into the seat and the carriage began it's long journey back to the place he called home.
A woman clad in red sat across from him, and took a moment to silently regarded her son's almost smug smirk before asking, "how did it go?"
Her son shifted into a more comfortable position and replied, "as we planned. I told you it was going to be easy." He paused briefly and took in his mother's slight frown before adding, "don't worry."
"But I do worry. You're my precious child and I would do anything for you." He rolled his eyes and thought, but Ciel will always mean more. He didn't dare say that out loud, but they both knew it was true. If she had to chose between her son and Ceil, her son would be the one to find himself betrayed by his mother. "Vincent don't give me that. It's true."
Vincent forced out a small smile and replied, "yes mother dearest." He returned to staring out at the dreary landscape while his mother sighed. She tried sounding angry with him, but if anything she sounded tired. "Must you be so mean to me? You have me to thank for your brains." A small, more genuine smile crossed Vincent's face and his mother added, "I love you."
Having been through this exchange more times than he could count, Vincent tool a deep breath and his eyes flicked over to where his mother was sitting when he stated, "I love you too." Vincent moved to sit next to his mother and placed his head in her lap, more for her benefit than his. It didn't take much to make her happy in moments like this. When she started stroking his hair, and brushing it off of Vincent's face, that's when he knew he had done his job, for now at least.
Gus Kinney: chapter one is done now chapter two will have more trust me