Hello, loves! This struck me in a flash moment of inspiration and I just had to write it. I'm obviously not going to be doing the whole movie, just little snip-its here and there. I won't be able to update regularly, so it will probably only be when the muse strikes me. My apologies.

Alfred Jones stalked his way through the grimy and dank streets of London. Rats scattered about his feet as he took long strides, not wanting to waste even a split second of his precious time unnecessarily surrounded by the filthy creatures. He sneered as his mind instantly compared them to the people of the boggy town.

Dim post lamps lit the darkness periodically in the main streets, but were rare in the side streets and back alleys Alfred slunk through. He shifted the bag that was slung over his shoulders and glared at the pitifully wailing beggars he passed. He was on a mission with no desire to get sidetracked.

As the amount of people and beggars began to increase, Alfred knew he was getting close to the main street. Fleet Street. The name rang in a bittersweet tone in his head.

Once he pushed his way, none too gently, passed the crowds; the tall American's gaze fell on a rather run-down looking shop. There it was. His old stomping ground. It was obviously in new hands, judging by the dirty, but brightly colored, curtains hanging in the windows and a hanging sign by the door that read " Kirkland's".

Alfred hesitantly twisted the knob on the door and stepped into the shop. The room wasn't very large and was rather poorly lit. The musty smell of the shop nearly made Alfred gag. As his red eyes swept the room, crossing the booths, tables, and modest kitchen area, they stopped on the only other person in the shop.

The man standing at the island counter was definitely something Alfred had never seen before. His skin was as pale as china with freckles dusting his face. A mop of disheveled strawberry blonde hair sat on his head and a rather depressed expression rested on his face. He wore an obnoxiously pink dress shirt with a sky blue vest. His eyes were turned down to his work, but Alfred could tell they were just as bright as his shirt.

Honestly, the man's appearance made Alfred uncomfortable. As did the large knife he was currently using to slice…something. Alfred slowly began to back out of the shop, hoping to leave before the man noticed his presence. However, a loose floorboard gave a quiet squeak into the otherwise silent shop, immediately causing the pale man to jerk his eyes up to his guest.

Alfred's guess had been right; the man's eyes were a strikingly bright mixture of blue and pink. It was frightening, really.

As soon as their eyes met, the man's face broke into one of the biggest smiles Alfred had ever seen. "A customer!" He exclaimed as he stabbed the knife into the cutting board. His accent confirmed that he was definitely a natural local.

With a speed that completely surprised Alfred, the man, whom he had come to the conclusion was Mr. Kirkland, ran around the counter and gripped onto Alfred's arm. His face was the complete opposite of the one he wore when Alfred first stepped into the shop. And up close, Alfred noticed his rather large eyebrows, wondering how he missed them before.

"Wait! What's your hurry? I apologize, but you gave me a fright! To be honest I thought you were a ghost." Mr. Kirkland rambled on in an excited tone. "Oh, you don't have to leave yet. You've got half a minute, don't you? Go on and sit ya down."

When Alfred didn't budge, gave a strong push on his shoulders, effectively shoving the American into a booth. "SIT!"

Alfred growled in annoyance and fixed the British man with a glare. He didn't really seem to mind though as he made his was quickly back to the kitchen area. "Sorry, it's just that I haven't seen a customer in weeks! You did come in for a pie, didn't you sir?"

Alfred frowned at the question. Oh, the loon sold meat pies. And from the looks of things, not very good ones. Good thing Alfred wasn't the biggest fan of meat. He opened his mouth to tell the man off, but was cut off.

"Do forgive me if I seem a little vague. With no customers, I haven't talked to anyone in a while. People seem to avoid my shop like it has the plague!" said with a light chuckle. He poured a dark colored beverage into a mug and brought it over to the table where Alfred sat. He took a seat across from the American as he slid the mug across the table. "Would you like a drop of ale?"

Alfred took the mug and eyed it nervously. But, after taking a small sip, he deemed it acceptable. smiled as he watched him drink. Soon, he turned his gaze out one of the windows and sighed wistfully. "Mind you, I can hardly blame them."

Alfred followed the man's movements as he got up and walked over to the kitchen. He leaned against one of the counters and frowned as he looked around the room. "Mine are probably the worst pies in London. Ha! That might even be polite."

Alfred bit his tongue. Smart mouthing would not be a good idea at the moment. "Uh…Mr -"

"Ah! You can just call me Oliver, poppet. No need for formalities. I'm no rich aristocrat. Well, I mean no wonder! How could I be with the price of meat these days!" Oliver laughed.

Alfred sat in confusion as Oliver rambled on about some woman down the road who made cats into pies. How on earth had he gotten himself into this mess? All he had wanted to do was see just what had happened to the place, and now he was stuck in a filthy booth, listening to some man he was sure was insane ramble about the meat pie business.

Then again…maybe insanity was what he needed for his revenge.

Alfred's brain started whirring with ideas and plans. Yes, this could work, but only if he played his cards right. Suddenly he noticed Oliver had stopped talking and was sitting across from him again, gazing at him with a wistful look. "Ah, sir." He sighed as he rested his head in the palm of his hand. "Times is hard."

Alfred hummed in agreement and downed the last of his ale. Oliver tilted his head slightly. "I never did ask your name, now did I? How rude of me."

That brought Alfred up short. Obviously, he wasn't very welcome back in London and if he told even this man his real name, it could be the end of everything he had worked for.

Thinking carefully and weighing his words, Alfred spoke after a few moments.

"Al. Allan Jones."

And he will have his revenge.

And there you have it! The first installment of this lovely series. I hope you enjoyed it! Next up will be "A Little Priest." Stay tuned!