Author's Note: Thank you to anyone still reading this story. It's one of my favourites because I get to write for Cassian…granted that I added details and taken a significant amount of liberties with the story. Thank you especially to Sorryll who has recently guided me around the city of London, and helped me to find DELILAH's headquarters...which we DID find, by the way! Ha! Jealousy.
His mind did not have a chance to generate pain, as the blade of the scythe was plunged into his chest. Cassian's body fell, hovering only a few inches above ground as glowing filmstrips poured forth from the wound in place of blood. They glowed a serene white, lighting up the centre of the attic room.
William pushed his glassed up the bridge of his nose, then opened a leather-bound book. He turned to the first page, golden eyes flicking over the page until he came to the bottom of it. He withdrew a pen from within his coat, and quickly scribbled down Cassian onto the blank line.
Rules would indicate that before judgement could be made on a soul, one must look at the individual's record for a minimum of 3 hours.
William sighed in disdain. He waited a few moments, carefully considering the boy's promise that he would be going to hell. A part of him wanted to simply send Cassian on his way, since he seemed to be so sure that that was where he was going, but the smarter, more dominant part of his mind would not allow him to go through with such an action.
Then there was that nagging curiosity as well. How could someone so young condemn themselves to an afterlife of flames and misery? More importantly; why? And who had his final message been intended for? A father, perhaps? Maybe an uncle, or adoptive guardian?
Finally, deciding that he was getting nowhere by simply standing around, William reached for one of the filmstrips. It ghosted his hand, and he looked at the noiseless images dancing within its borders. He lightly touched the it, standing back as the other strips vanished, leaving him with a singular film.
"Cassian…son of Henry and Rebecca Everard…Born 13th of August near London…" he mumbled to himself, scribbling down names, dates, and places in the Cinematic Record while the film played on. William frowned, watching quite the average childhood unfold.
Countless scenes of a younger Cassian unfolded. Pictures and clips of his family, friends, and house appeared on the screen, some depicting happier times, and others tragic. His mother appeared gentle, with the same chestnut hair as her son. His father looked to be a bit more strict, and acted as though having Cassian around was just another burden.
He learnt of the "boy's" growth defect, and how his parents had cruelly sold him to the circus when they discovered that he would never have the body of an adult. Time and time again, he stared in detest as Cassian was whipped unconscious by the ringmaster. Ridicule and mocking were things that humans seemed to have perfected to an art form. William reminded himself of this as he watched the ringmaster and his whore make bets on whether or not Cassian would fall for her.
"Say, Cassian, could you come here a moment?" The blonde motioned over to him from behind a gaudy velvet curtain. Cassian's face turned three shades of red, and he did a quick double-take before asking,
"Me?" the girl laughed.
"'Course I mean you! You're the only Cassian here, eh?" he shrugged, and walked over to where she was standing. For a few seconds they merely stood, gazing at one another. Then without warning she took a step closer, grabbing his hands in her own.
"I meant to tell you earlier that your performance tonight was spectacular." She smiled, winking at him. Cassian shrugged, not exactly sure how to feel about the sudden attention.
"Yeah…it was nothing?" she laughed again. Cassian's eyebrows wrinkled.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but do I know you?" she stopped, eyes wide with shock.
"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! My name's Emilie, I just joined. I'm a tightrope walker." She dropped his hand, only to grab it again in a soft handshake.
"All right then…well, I'd better go…Ringmaster'll want me to help take down the tent before long." he mumbled, feeling his face grow hot. Just as she turned to leave, he felt a soft tug at his sleeve, and warm lips pressed to his cheek. If he hadn't been blushing before, he certainly was now. Emilie smiled at him again, and said,
"See you around then, love!"
William frowned. Something about her was definitely suspicious, however, the only thing he could do was watch. He looked on as Cassian and Emilie spent more and more time together. She seemed to always sneak out back after his knife throwing performances to compliment how "spectacular" he was. Just as he thought that his first impression of her had been wrong, he discovered the humiliating truth.
"Pay up then, George!" Emilie said with a wicked grin on her face. The ringmaster looked up with a deep frown.
"What for?" she rolled her eyes, sauntering to sit on the makeshift bed beside him.
"You know very well. The bet; I won."
"What bet?"
"Now don't act like you don't know!" Her smile turned into a frown now too as the man avoided eye contact with her. "You know damn well 'what bet'. The one we made involving that brat, Cassian!" Emilie threw a piece of paper at him, and the ringmaster instantly picked it up for examination.
"You said if I could seduce him in a week, you'd give me five quid! Look, you even signed it!" she pointed to the paper. He scowled, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Emilie, please-,"
"Oh no! You're not getting out of this, George. You owe me, and you know it!"
"What proof do you have that he fell for y-," as though she had expected those words, Emilie dropped another folded scrap of paper in his lap.
"The little brat wrote me a love letter. Ugh! Makes me sick to think that he actually had feelings for me, the little creep." With a few mumbled words, the ringmaster reached into his pocket and pulled out a five pound note.
"Fine. Here. Take it." Emilie smiled again, edging closer to the man, who was now muttering curse words under his breath. She snaked an arm around his shoulder, and whispered into his ear,
"Thank you, love."
It was after that that Cassian burst into the tent, throwing knives in hand. Two shots was all it took to end the lives of the woman he thought he loved, and the man who had made his life hell for so long. When his task was finished, he wiped the blades clean on his shirt, and fled the circus.
As much as William hated to do so, he was obligated to write the word "murderer" into Cassian's cinematic record.