Thanks for the reviews! They really are the things that motivate me to physically write. Here's the second chapter, which is the official beginning of the story. Even though it's only one chapter in, I had fun plotting this and I hope you find it worth reading.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji
Thunder struck and the chips went in. He bit the bottom of his lip, a grudging hand shoving the notes forward, that bastard smirking at him from across the table, cards laid flat. Flat and victorious. His mouth tasted like smoke, not that it was anything worth noting. Blue eyes turned towards the window, or what was left of the cracked thing.
It was raining, harsh strikes of water slamming their rundown retreat. Another clap of thunder followed a flash of lightning- bombshells, the grenade, not here not now- he turned and pulled the tattered coat off the back of his chair. The brunette the next table over was now standing on top of the scattered spinwheel, breasts shaking (too bad she didn't swing his way) as she laughed.
"Pay up, chumps! Mama Hopkins is taking it home!"
With various amounts of groaning and cursing, the losers did, all of them looking even grimier and murkier than usual. He blamed it on the lack of ventilation.
"Bard, you cheating me?"
"The hell you say?" he snapped back.
"Come on, you play the game, you pay the price."
"That's all I have and you know it, Vanel." Bard pointed at the remains of his money with a dramatic sweep of the hands. "I'll see you around."
"Your pockets," Vanel said, kicking his legs onto the table. A ringed finger pointed at Bard. "Empty your pockets or I'll have them emptied, eh?"
Shit.
Bard threw the coat on. "Do I look the type who'd cheat you?"
Vanel had a guy in the corner of the casino and he was coming this way. There was another standing behind the man, and Bard assumed that blockhead by the door was one too. Hopkins was still cackling over her victory. The truth was Bard did not want to pay up. He barely had enough as it was. He stepped back.
"Yankee, you're exactly the type," Vanel said.
That was all the cue he needed. Bard turned. And ran. He might have knocked over a few beer bottles in the process but he didn't have the time to notice. Or care. He delivered a rather ungentlemanly shove to one of the waitresses on his way and she landed on the pool table.
"Break his legs!" Vanel cried.
A gunshot fired behind him, but that was nothing to Bard. He'd been a soldier once. And he'd sure as hell soldier through this. The man by the door tried to catch him in a bearhug, but Bard wriggled free with a sharp kick to the thug's crotch. He wasn't dying today. The doors burst open, and a wave of water crashed over them.
He ran on, wiping the droplets from his face, not that it did much to help. The casino's large "Ferro" sign glowed red in bright neon letters, the O long since burnt out. Bard hurried past the scattered tents of foodstands littered in front of Ferro. A few electric cars zoomed by, narrowly avoiding collision. Onto the streets.
Bang!
Too many damn wires everywhere- he tripped. Telegram wires, telephone wires, wires for everything. He picked himself up by the elbows and looked behind the shoulder- Vanel's men were hot on his trail and they were gaining. He stood, soaked and covered in mud, and that was when the pain registered. A streak of blood on his arm, from where the bullet had grazed.
Temper flaring, Bard flashed the middle finger at them. Upon retrospect, that was the wrong move. He hobbled away as they came, more incensed than ever. Wires everywhere, everywhere. There was an alley up ahead, sealed off by shadows. It was perfect.
Bidding a mental farewell to one of his few comforts, Bard pulled out his cigarette lighter. He flicked it open. He saw them aim that gun again. Bard dropped the lighter and the wires went up in flames. The brief explosion caught that group of three by surprise, if their screams were anything to go by.
He turned on his heels and escaped into that alleyway, hoping the rain wouldn't put out that fire so fast.
Really didn't think you could sink any lower.
Bard scoffed, pretending to chew a nonexistent tobacco stick. Vanel knew where he lived, not that there was much to salvage in that crummy inn room anyway. It wouldn't be his for long- rent was overdue. What he needed to do was lie low for a while. Find somewhere to hide and maybe earn some money back. Funny- there was a time when sleight of hand was his strong suit. And now he couldn't even win a cardgame.
He pressed his back against the brick wall, breath coming out in puffs of mist. He'd end up on the streets soon enough and there wasn't even a nice cardboard box to lay back on. Most of the crates lying around were toxic and disease-infested. It was a miracle he survived that bout of fever the past year.
Bard inspected his stinging arm- he would have to clean it to avoid infection. Then sew it up himself. What a day.
His coat ruffled. Alarmed, he shifted his gaze. A small figure was darting away from him. Damn it. He'd been too busy with this pity party that he hadn't noticed the pickpocket. Bard fingered the coat, realizing in horror that his wallet was gone. First the lighter, now this!
"Hey!" he shouted, pushing himself off the wall and stumbling a bit from the effort.
"Oy, get back here!"
What a day. Bard was off, running as fast as his legs would carry him for the second time that evening. "Get back here, you little shit!" He had a lot of steam to let off and that punk was in for a beating if things got any worse. If anything, that pushed the thief to run faster.
Bard could make out a beige hood around the pickpocket's head. And bare feet. Bare bloodied feet.
They came to a dead end, and to Bard's frustration, the bastard decided to scale the wall. He latched on the bricks and began climbing as far as those thin limbs could do. Bard watched in exasperation before following suit. The pain in his arm was nothing compared to the adrenaline he felt. As soon as the thief made it on the ground with a graceful splash, Bard landed in a clumsy collapse- that would smart in the morning.
But his approach had startled the pickpocket, and it was the opening he needed to tackle him. Bard grabbed his shoulders and they both tumbled on the ground, rolling in the wet muck and who knew what else.
"Got you now, you son of a-!"
The hood had rolled off and Bard was left speechless. It was a girl, fourteen, maybe younger by the looks of it, soft golden curls sprawled in a puddle, bright green eyes staring up at him, dazed. Apart from the dust on her face and the bruise on her temple, this looked more like a doll than a girl. A rich doll at that.
"Alright, kid, hand it over," he growled. But now was not the time for stupid questions.
"Wait," she said.
He stood, roughly hoisting her up with him by the arm. "I don't care if you're poor- we've all got problems."
"I need this," she said, too calm for his comfort.
"And so do I! Now give it back!"
"I told you," she said, shaking her head, "I need this."
No, she wasn't being calm. She was being defiant. And was he really going to pound a little girl? So instead, he stood his ground and the pair exchanged glares.
"I'm not just going to let you go, you know. People like you should be locked up!" he said.
"No," she said, a little more worried this time, "no, I can't go, they-"
"Great, there's more of you?"
She tried to push out of his grip, but he held fast, eyes unable to ignore the blood gathering beneath her feet, the soles likely scraped from all her running on gravel.
"I saw you outside Ferro," she said lowly. Before he could respond, she cut him off, "you're in trouble. I'm sorry- I shouldn't have targeted you. But- I had to. If you let me have this, I- we can help you."
She sounded sincere enough. And those emerald eyes implored him. Shit, he shouldn't have looked at her sad eyes.
"We?"
"Me and-" she trailed off. "Your arm- we should clean that up."
His grip was slackening, damn it. "And your feet, kid." His remark surprised her. "Does it hurt to walk?"
She was going to answer but he decided to cut her off. The more he looked at this kid, the more pity welled up in him- things were looking shitty for him but he was a grown man at least. And this was just a child, all things considered. "I'll carry you to uh, where ever they are. Got a name, kid?"
He let go at last and stooped, pointing at his back.
"Elizabeth."
His arm was throbbing by the time they got to Elizabeth's "home," a boarded-up building that looked like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe novel. In other words, Bard would never set foot in here if it wasn't for the girl on his back.
The rain was still pounding fervently when they reached shelter. Inside was no better than the outside, though he did see some lit candles on wooden tables. The place looked like an abandoned bar. There was an organ up front and- oh.
He glanced at the windows- they weren't stained with mud. It was colored glass- this had once been a church, but it was so desecrated at this point he could barely tell. It was almost fitting that someone like Elizabeth would seek shelter here.
A little ways beside the organ was a fireplace, the flames crackling inside, its red coloring tinting everything a faint shade of orange and interweaving with the shadows of raindrops. And the closer Bard got, the more his eyes adjusted. There was a figure brooding by the fire.
"Who are you?" it asked in a voice not much lower than Elizabeth's.
The figure turned, revealing a head of glossy dark hair. The first thing Bard saw was the pale eyepatch, followed by the jaded gaze of the child's eye.
"You're a boy?" was the first thing Bard blurted out.
Giggling, Elizabeth slid off his back and ran towards the child. If her companion was indignant at Bard's arrival, his eye immediately flooded with emotion at seeing her, be it love or sincere relief. They embraced on the spot.
"This is Ciel, my friend."
Ciel fixed him with a glare before turning back to the girl, "Elizabeth, why-?"
"He carried me back." Bard appreciated her omission of his manhandling.
Elizabeth plopped down on the nearest pew, raising her feet for Ciel to see. He dropped to his knees, picking them up and inspecting the wounds with an unreadable expression. As if sensing the disapproval on Bard's face, Elizabeth addressed him.
"I had to go out today because of the rain. Ciel has asthma."
The boy did look a good few shades paler than Elizabeth. His thin frame did not speak of a healthy constitution.
"Who are you? I'm assuming Elizabeth robbed you," Ciel said, not a change in tone, and far more eloquent than Bard had expected.
"Name's Bardroy." How to phrase this? "The little lady here made a deal with me."
"What sort of deal?" There was that protective edge in his voice again.
Elizabeth gently removed Ciel's hands and stood up. "We have to take care of your arm, mister, and my feet." She wandered by the fire, rummaging for items in what appeared to be bags. "We have lots of things for that. Alcohol, bandages... lots of bandages."
"Right." Bard furrowed his brow. It was just a graze. His life, on the other hand. It was embarrassing to be here but he was out of cards to play. "What about getting me away from trouble at Ferro? You're really my last gamble, kid."
Elizabeth cast him a sweet smile. "Look behind you."
So Bard did.
And screamed.
Hot red eyes regarded him with amusement. For a moment, he thought they floated in shadow. Only after a good few blinks did he see the shape of a man, ashen and lithe, with hair the color of coal. A hand pulled him up by the collar, black nails digging into the worn cotton.
"My my," the man said, smooth and dark, "how lovely of the lady to bring me my food."
Bard saw the hint of a grin, and what appeared to be fangs behind that mouth. Oh shit. And the bright eyes- he knew what these things were. He'd seen them prowling in the alleys, seen the signs plastered on the walls- heck, he might have even seen one when he passed that freakshow the other day.
"Stop fooling around," Ciel grumbled. And with that, the creature let Bard go, but not with some malice in those eyes. "I have no interest in secondrate souls anyway," it muttered.
"This is Sebastian." Elizabeth came to stand by the newcomer, something new in her hand. "Our demon."
"When did it get in-"
"I was here all along, Bardroy. In that corner to be exact." The demon offered a condescending smile, as pretty as his false face. Without meaning to, Bard found himself balling his fists.
"Stop shaking," Ciel said, coming to Bard's side, "he won't do anything without my consent."
The boy flashed Sebastian (they fucking named it) a haughty glance. "No better than a dog, really," he continued, "just a tool for us to make means end. No, even less than that."
"I do detest dogs," the demon quipped, that plastered smile still on his face. Bard really wanted to back away.
"Lizzie, cut to the chase," the boy said.
Elizabeth held up the item, a worn flyer ripped at its edges: Infernum, the cockfight of the century. Entry fee £2. First prize £500. Winner take all. Registration closes 5 February.
"I think I know where you're going with this, but can't say I'm too sure." Bard took the flyer and examined more. There was the location of the cockfight. He'd seen a few of these ads before, usually tacked onto the underside of a shady table, but never paid much mind. These things were as legal as gambling, which meant that either way, he'd be sent to jail if he was caught. Fine by him. "I don't got a pet, if that's what you're asking."
Elizabeth giggled again, once more too sweet for his comfort. "No, Bardroy. Infernum is what these are all called. It's not just a fancy name."
At his confusion, she let loose another laugh, "don't worry. We were just as confused before. Have you ever bet on a horse?"
"Once or twice. Damn things let me down."
"It's the same concept, but with cockfighting. We can bet as much as we want, but no matter what the total number of bets pools to, there will always be some prize money for the winners, usually three. But it never gets that close- only one tends to win these."
"So what exactly are these?"
Here, Ciel cut in. "Gambling with demons, quite literally. Put them in place of the chickens. We've been doing this for over a year now and Sebastian has never lost."
"Alright... so, Elizabeth, you're offering me a cut of the de- Sebastian's earnings?"
"And there you have it!" Elizabeth said, beaming.
"But if it's never lost a fight, why do you need my money?" Now there was something Bard didn't get.
"This particular infernum is a grand fight of sorts," Ciel explained, "the prize usually doesn't go that far. And the bets, well, they're from people like yourself (hey!), so you can imagine how well off we are by the end of each fight. As with all underground activity, there needs to be wait time between each event."
"So you ran out of money, eh?"
Ciel huffed. "Put simply, yes."
"Some things can't be stolen and they don't come cheap," Elizabeth said, "medicine for instance."
"And the doctor," Bard finished for her. His mind could connect the dots- if Ciel's asthma story was to be believed, something had befallen the boy not long ago and Elizabeth was left trying to save the boy's life. She must have succeeded. And now they needed money for the next cockfight.
"But you won't be a sitting duck," the girl said, "this is just the fight we're holding out for. There's another one tomorrow- we should be able to have some money to bet on it. Thanks to you."
"Huh. I guess it all works out this way," Bard conceded.
"Only if we win." Ciel directed his gaze at Sebastian. "Which we will, understand?"
"There isn't much to go on with Bardroy's money (hey!). But it's worth a shot." Elizabeth perked up again. Bard assumed these not-so-subtle comments were delivered to bait the demon, whose smile had finally melted into a frown.
Sebastian took a seat on the pew and stared into the fire. The place must not be very holy if it could house a demon without completely bursting into flames.
"Now that you know everything, there's no point in hiding other complications," Ciel said, drawing back Bard's attention. "Sebastian was wounded not long ago. He's not yet recovered so placing your faith in his victory would be a gamble in itself. Of course, Elizabeth and I have no choice. You on the other hand, could still attempt to take your money and leave."
Bard considered the boy's words. He could sneak out with the money and never come back but... he just plain didn't trust this Ciel. He didn't know how badly injured the demon was; Sebastian looked perfectly fine to him. But wounded or not, the demon could still murder him if he wanted. And if he really was at Ciel's beck and call... yes, Bard was in for the long haul.
"No, I made my choice. Can't go back on my word."
"Very well."
Bard pressed a hand over his arm, the blood having stopped leaking. "So, Elizabeth, uh Ciel, you have room for a fourth here? I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place right now."
Thanks for reading! And reviews are beyond welcome- this won't be a short story so I'd love to know how many people are interested/continue to be interested in it!
As you can all see, this fic offers an equal amount of pain for everyone, not just Sebastian. And again, suggestions for what horrible things this dorky demon can go through over the course of the fic are welcome in reviews (and believe me, even without suggestions, there is a lot down the road...)
Guest #1: Thanks! I hope you liked this Lizzie. She barely interacted with Sebastian this time since it was just an introduction for Bard, but she'll definitely have more one-on-one sessions with him and the others as the story goes on.
Guest #2: Yes, this story is not kind to Sebastian. At all haha. He's going to need a lot of support from reviewers ;)
Next time: Bard joins the trio and the first cockfight