A/N: Started a new story, but this one is a lot different than my other one. I got a lot of inspiration after reading Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, (amazing book, I reccommend it) so some things may appear somewhat similar. Read, and if you enjoyed it, please review!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC(s).
Chapter One:
The House in the Shadows
A heavy gust of cool air blew through the dark, frigid, night. Shivers crept into the coat, and somewhat discouraged, the mysterious figure thought of a plan. Wearing the appearance of a young, scrawny lad, the figure was dressed in a threadbare, loose-fitting shirt and vest, with long, thick, cotton trousers that nearly sagged over the heels of his tattered buckled boots. An oversized coat hung loosely over his thin shoulders, and the figure tightened the cap on his head over his ears with slender fingers, stony from the cold. Short, black hair peeked out from beneath the hat.
Currently ambiguous in gender, the figure appeared to be graceless and lanky, and it would digress one from the fact that he stepped forward in the shadows with an indescribable amount stealth and caution, interestingly so.
Although it was only evening time, the skies had turned black almost instantly, causing most of the busy merchants and stall holders, along with the many people, rich and poor, that roamed the streets of London each day, to retire on home. Home, whether that was tall mansions, simple houses, or an alleyway in the middle of a street, it was home.
Some, however, had duties to attend. A rather plump police officer in uniform stood at his post, under the glow of a streetlamp, watching for danger. Or, perhaps, he was supposed to. The figure sidestepped out of the shadows, eyes observing the officer carefully.
It seemed he was lightly dozing, the way his hat dropped lazily over his face, and the way he leaned over his cane, insufficient of alertness. The figure noticed a gun in his belt, and queasiness arose in his stomach, but lest that distract it from the task at hand, he mentally thanked whomever, most likely fate, that this officer was asleep.
The figure snuck behind the officer. Softening the sound of his breathing, he wandered his nimble fingers over the man's coat and trouser pockets, sliding out valuables. Out came a wallet containing his identification, two pounds, a florin, and seven pence. Heart leaping with excitement at such easy money, the figure tested his luck and slid his hands around the handle of the officer's gun.
"—!"
Shaking himself awake, the officer sluggishly opened his eyes. The figure, surprised at this sudden turn of events, withdrew his hand, backing away. He tripped on his pant leg, the buckled boots scraping over the ground, and at once, the police officer raised his head in awareness and glanced around.
His eyes, adjusting to the light of the streetlamp, focused on a seemingly young boy in a cap and coat, backing cautiously away. He just barely saw his features, his thin, pointed chin, fair nose, and large fear stricken light golden eyes. But it was only a moment before the figure spun his body around and walked briskly down the road, obviously in a hurry. At this hour it was quite odd for a child to be playing in the streets, so, stuffing a hand in his pocket, the officer's suspicions were answered. His wallet was gone! Damn kid!
The officer pulled out his handgun and called out to the figure.
"Oi! Get back over here, dirty thief!"
Running faster, the figure pocketed the wallet, as his buckled boots clicked over the pavement in a quick paced, rhythmic fashion.
I have to get back quick, or Badger'll have my head!
"I said, come back, boy!" repeated the officer, and despite his stoutness, he wasn't all that far behind the figure. Already worried enough, the sounds of gunshots entered the air, causing the scrawny figure's heart to beat erratically.
"BANG!"
It missed him by a hair, and jumping to the right, the figure dashed on ahead, long legs striding hurriedly along the road.
"BANG, BANG!"
Climbing the steps of a ladder leaning against a nearby building, the figure reached the rooftops and disappeared into the night. The police officer cursed, kicking a barrel to his side from anger, and he sighed, removing his hat.
He should really stop falling asleep at his post.
.*.*.*.
A breath of relief escaped the figure's mouth; his heart beat finally returning to normal. Though the air was cold, his body had suddenly gotten warm from the chase, and he needed to cool off. Slowing down, the figure lightly leaped off the side of the building, it only being a few ten feet above the ground, and landed squarely on his feet. Then, moving covertly, he returned to the shabby building hidden under the shade of the rusty roof. There were no streetlamps on this part of the street, but there was enough moonlight to see where he was going.
As the door unlatched, a creaking noise emanated from the floorboards, and a soft light of the candles entered the figure's eyes.
"Ah, look here. Ash is back!"
The gruff voice came from the far side of the room. An old man, appearing to be in his late fifties or sixties, sat fixedly in an armchair, his black eyes gleaming like coals. His graying beard was a tangled mess, as was the shoulder length hair that fell over his broad shoulders in a bristly manner. He was called Badger, because of his sly, weasel-like way of working.
Three or four others were also in the room, particularly boys in their teens, who raised their heads at the figure who had appeared. One of them was short and grimy-faced lad, fifteen or sixteen, that grinned cockily, revealing yellowed teeth.
"Eh! Did you find anythink good for us, Ashy?" he teased, earning a warning look from the figure. Removing the coat, Ash tossed it dismissively to the side and pulled out the wallet he had snatched.
"A whoppin' two pounds, a florin, and seven pence!" A smile tugged on the edges of his lips as the others murmured impressed comments to one another. Ash tossed the wallet towards Badger, who caught it with remarkable dexterity.
Walking back over to the table, Ash pulled off his buckled boots and cap, revealing disheveled short black locks that reached the end of his neck. He removed the vest and baggy shirt, revealing a less loose plain white shirt underneath. Upon further notice, one would realize just how feminine faced this 'boy' was, especially after the hat was off, as well as the tiny frame of his—her shoulders and slight developing waist.
"Huh? Ash… yer a… a girl?"
Looking to where the voice had come from, Ash recognized the newcomer, Billy, who had joined the group just a few days ago. She sighed. Apparently no one had decided enlightening him with this information. Billy's eyes were wide with disbelief, and he almost lost his balance from the chair he had been leaning on.
"Yes, last time I checked. And…?"
Laughter erupted from the newcomer. That was a mistake.
"It's funny, it is! I thought you was a real bad'un, you know! But all along, you was just some girl! Ha ha!"
Ash stood up and approached the boy, who was bent, clutching to his stomach in laughter. She grabbed his collar roughly with both hands and pulled him close, glaring darkly with fierce, light golden eyes.
"You best keep mum about this, hear? Breathe a word to anyone and I'll make sure next time you won't be breathin' at all."
Her words left in a stream behind clenched teeth, but it was enough to cause Billy to enter another one of his guffawing fits. "Ha, are you joking? You couldn't hurt me if you tried!"
The girl felt a twinge of anger rise to her head, a slight red tinting her cheeks, as she clenched her hand instinctively. Ash raised her fist, preparing to strike his jaw, when a gruff voice interrupted the collision.
"Ash," Badger said sharply. His black eyes watched her disapprovingly. "Don't smash the boy's face in so early on."
"…"
She stopped short, hesitating. At this point, Billy had finally realized that this girl was serious about what she meant, and silently thanked Badger for saving him. Letting her hand fall down limp beside her body, Ash slowly unclasped her fingers from the boy's collar.
At length, she said, "Yer right, Badger. He'll need that pretty face to avoid getting caught, won't he?"
"Hey! Who're you callin' 'prett—!"
Her knee made contact with his lower body, kicking him hard in the place most young boys like him would certainly not like to be kicked. Billy let out a harsh cry of pain as he doubled over, now clutching that very spot.
The others both laughed callously and gasped sympathetically at the newcomer, but they knew, as time would pass, this boy would learn right from wrong, especially in Ash's presence. They were all too familiar with the girl's hot temper, each of them once receiving the same treatment at some point during their residence.
She was, after all, the first pickpocket recruit Badger had found, at only a mere age of six. Raised as a young and crafty male, she learned the art of thievery, and knew that it required special skills of agility, deftness, slyness, and definitely wit. Now hitting almost fourteen years of age, she was an ace at her game, usually being the one to reel in the most money.
The group's recent targets were those of the higher social class. The reason behind this was simple. They were filthy rich.
"Well… did you save any food for me? I'm famished!" Ash muttered, her stomach growling angrily. Another boy with messy brown hair and green eyes, about twelve years old and known by everyone as Scamp, tossed her a half-eaten apple.
"It's all that's left. And stop usin' such big words! You know we ain't as well-read…" Scamp complained, half teasingly and half truthfully. Ash shrugged as she bit into the apple with fierce velocity.
Badger laughed heartily, rummaging through the wallet. His black eyes noticed the identification. "You snagged this from the police, eh, Ash?"
The girl nodded solemnly.
"Don't tell me… The fat one down the road? Did he get a good look at yer face?"
A boastful grin split her fine features, her light golden eyes glimmering with a ghastly sense of both pride and a tad amount of guilt.
"Din't see a thing," she lied.
Two gloved hands drew the curtains away on each side of the window. The sun shined beautifully in, as the light sprawled over the carpet. The tall butler in black approached the stirring lump in the bed, gently shaking it awake.
"Young Master," he spoke, his voice surprisingly soft and soothing. "It's morning time. We've received some reports from Her Majesty."
At first, the boy in the covers mumbled something unintelligible and swatted the man's hands away, but upon hearing the words, 'Her Majesty', he forcibly cracked open a midnight blue eye.
"Fine," he said at length, sitting upright in the bed. A sigh escaped his lips as they initiated his morning routine.
.*.*.*.
"A case of local pickpockets in London?" Ciel muttered, resting his cheek on his fist in an uninterested manner. "How tedious. There are thieves roaming everywhere. I don't see how this one is any more important."
His butler, Sebastian, returned with the tea and black pudding, resting it gently on the tabletop. He watched the younger, navy-haired boy with his brilliant red eyes, as the softest smirk graced his lips.
"I agree. However, Young Master, these pickpockets are targeting the higher and nobler class of London. Her Majesty is concerned for the peoples' safety."
Ciel snorted. "Ha. Our people only act if we are the ones in trouble," he said, dismissively. Then, he sighed. "But if she wants it, I suppose I'll have to oblige."
He finished his cup of tea and pudding and stood up, dusting himself.
"Come, Sebastian."
The older man wrapped the coat around him, and together they left the manor towards the carriage outside.
This story has absolutely nothing to do with the anime (more relevant to the manga), and Ash is my OC's cover/thief name. (Her real name may be revealed later on). Thanks for reading and PLEASE review! It encourages me to write more! ^_^