Just a tiny peak into one of the most twisted characters in D. Gray-Man. (And he's one of the "good" guys. Makes you wonder.)
Disclaimer: DGM is the property of Katsura Hoshino.
"Inspector, is there anything else?"
"No. Continue as you were. You're dismissed." Inspector Link bowed and left, leaving his superior alone and scowling.
Malcolm Leverrier intertwined his fingers and leaned back in the chair, staring at the bloody mess and shattered glass—the last known location of one General Cross Marian. Where the man was, whether he was dead or not, what his apprentice was—these were the mysteries that kept the Frenchman up at night. He didn't know why, but sitting here, at the scene of the crime, was oddly comforting. It was quiet. Here he could think.
To call him intense might have been an understatement. Leverrier was, in his own mind, devoted and dedicated to the holy duty of eliminating the Akuma and the Millennium Earl, the threat to humanity's existence. If this meant sacrificing lives and destroying them, it didn't matter because in the end they would win. They had to beat the Earl, had to destroy the Noah. It was unacceptable not to. And these moralists…they infuriated him.
Allen Walker. Suspected of being a Noah himself, with very clear ideas on what was the wrong and right way to fight the Earl. His loyalties had long been up for debate. If what Cross said was true, and the will of the 14th Noah had been inherited by Walker, than Walker was no longer an ally. It wasn't more complicated than that, and he failed to see why others could not see that so plainly.
Komui Lee. A man who seemed like an idiot until you had to butt heads with him. Then, he turned into a pest. A pest with a knack for getting in the way and staying there. His botched experiments and eccentric behavior towards his own flesh and blood were good covers for a man who was very shrewd, clever and extremely stubborn when he wanted to be.
Leverrier paused in his thoughts to slice another bit of cake. He was fond of sweets and was quite the excellent baker. Just ask him.
If only people were as easy to master and manipulate as flour and butter and eggs. Of course, if he had his way, he would have been beating Walker and Cross like the eggs they were—fragile, rotten. But people like Cross and Walker required a more delicate touch. One did not simply throw away a rotten egg. There was a right and wrong way to dispose of them.
Polishing off the slice he set down his plate and fork and took a deep breath, the sudden inhalation bristling the hairs of his carefully groomed and maintained toothbrush mustache. He must not lose control of himself now. That was also unacceptable. If he was going to get angry, he was going to have a target to aim it at first. He had been taught since youth to hold his anger, to win with logic and judgment and evidence before rage and contempt. (Naturally, his logic was flawless and his contempt and rage justified.)
Why couldn't they see? Why couldn't they understand that his means were the way to victory? Did it not matter that the Earl could easily wipe them all out? The fat man had had the upper hand in the war for longer than the Order wanted to admit, and the Order was far too small and understaffed to start caring about the "right" way to go about winning. The Exorcists were weapons and like weapons needed use. When no longer operational they needed replacement and removal. Many in the Vatican and Central part of the Order agreed, hence why the Third Exorcist Project had gone ahead. It was the reasoning for the Second Exorcist Project and the attempts afterward to directly place pieces of Innocence into the bodies of family of Compatibles. It was all for the sake of victory, of survival. If idealists like Komui Lee and Allen Walker failed to see that, they deserved to be crushed. They deserved to die.
Leverrier leaned comfortably in the chair facing the shattered, blood-spattered window, and contemplated.