"You can feel it can't you Soul? The madness, and how fast it spreads. Like fire fed oil." The imp teased. Soul faced the red demon as it snapped its fingers in rhythm with the record player. Soul sat in his familiar chair as he listened to the broken record play its tune in the same annoying repetition. Jazz music calmed Soul, but also seemed to energize the little demon.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Soul snarled. "Last time I was here I ate you, so why are you still bothering me?" The demon seemed to be genuinely pleased to answer that question.
"Soul, I would think that would be obvious." He smirked. "These people, these scared people are seething with magnificent madness. Murderers, rapist, and corrupted government; with all of this I don't have to lift a finger and they drive themselves to madness. Its all so delicious." The demon placed its hands into its mouth, biting down just hard enough to draw blood.
"Dude, your one messed up demon."
"Oh Soul," The demon grinned. "You have no idea. These people are so tame, so easy to manipulate, and so susceptible to insanity." The demon's mouth drooled in anticipation of all of it.
"You still haven't answered my question." Soul furrowed his brow. "Why are you here?"
The demon itself became frustrated with Soul. "All this madness, how could I pass that up. Admit it you still have enough black blood for you to feel the effects, and if not you will eventually."
Soul couldn't argue with the imp. It was a worry of Soul's. This world seemed to be almost, evil. A pit of violence and filth that constantly decayed into something even more disgusting.
"While we're talking," Soul asked. "Why am I here? Crona couldn't come along because of his black blood. So, why can I?"
"Unfortunately," the imp sighed. "You only have a small amount of black blood. If unagitated you could stay here for years and feel no effects. Your emo friend would be driven to instant insanity."
"Whatever you stupid demon. Get out." Soul spat. Soul forced the demon out of his soul room.
"Remember Soul." The demon smiled as he faded out. "This is the perfect place for me. I will grow stronger, and you will only get weaker. It's only a matter of patience."
The room grew darker and silent as the lights and record player vanished. Soul sat in the echoing silence of the dimly lite room. His mind was racing as he tried to form a rational thought. He wasn't the smartest of the group. Thinking should have been left to Maka or Kid, but instead he rattled his brain looking for any possible answer to the events that had begun to transpire in the last few days.
He had learned of a alternate reality, lost his weapon form, and was suddenly expected to be a stupid detective. What was Death thinking? Perhaps Lord Death had not been thinking. Soul had no explanation for any of it.
"What am I going to tell Maka?" He whispered to himself. It was a waste of breath. He couldn't answer his own question, but verbally asking out loud eased his nerves. Of course he couldn't tell Maka. She would overreact, and that was the last thing Soul needed. Soul's body shivered from the stress of the last few hours. His sweat drenched face glistened in the blue fire light. His body shuddered violently. Knuckles white from gripping the handle's end of the chair, his right foot began to tap the floor in a erratic tempo, and his lips pulled back slowly in a wide grin that showed off his sharp teeth.
"She doesn't have to know." Soul said. The darkness of his mind surrounded him and engulfed him in the void.
"Soul wake up!" Kid's voice pierced Soul's barrier from sleep and reality. Soul shot up removing the thick blankets from his body. "Were you having a bad dream? You were kicking and muttering in your sleep."
"I guess." Soul gasped for air. "I don't really remember. How long have you been up?" Kid was fully dressed in the strange clothes that adorned him when he entered the world.
"For a few hours. I've cleaned, rearranged the room until it was perfectly symmetrical." Kid beamed with pride at his accomplishment. "Out clothes are a different matter entirely. It is next to impossible to get them clean in time. Instead I bought some new ones."
He tossed a bundle of garments at Soul.
"Put those on, and when you do meet us down stairs. We're going to discuss what our approach for today will be."
Kid shut the door behind him. Soul pulled the sheets off of him, and put on the clothes that kid had handed him. They were black with a white undershirt that itched so much it seemed to have been dipped in starch, black pants, and a frilly neck piece that made it hard for Soul to breath properly.
Once Soul dressed himself he made his way past the hallway into the living room where his friends, and other occupants that spread themselves at random points in the room. Soul wore his black long coat that he adorned when he crossed the mirror. The cloth flapped in the slight breeze he created as he walked towards his friends. Maka, Patty, and Liz sat on a bench next to a small fire that cackled as it consumed the coal that fueled the flames. Kid sat in a small arm chair. The light of the fire cast shadows onto Kid's face making his eyes look dark and hollow. Soul plopped down next to Maka. The bench was made of molding wood and creaked every time Patty happily bounced up and down.
"How did you sleep Soul?" Maka asked. "Your eyes look a little puffy."
"Not bad, I guess." Soul rubbed his eyes. "Doesn't really remember."
" I don't mean to interrupt but; Patty quit that insufferable bouncing.!" Kid snapped. "How do you propose we find the Kishin."
"What about that Judge you were talking about yesterday." Soul said as he scratched at his neck. "From how you described him he definitely sounds Kishin material."
Kid hunched forward in his seat. "I thought about that. It is a possibility, but I want to investigate before we make any hasty decisions."
"I think we should ask around some more." Maka spoke up. "We need to figure out how to stop the spread of madness before we're up to our necks in blood thirsty Kishin."
"Makas' right. We don't have any powers here. I can't transform in to a scythe, and Liz and Patty can't become guns. We need to stop the Kishin, and we need to do it fast." Soul said. Kid nodded his head.
"I think we should start where we left off." Kid stood up. "Then Maka and Soul you will go back to the shop you visited yesterday. Lizz, Patty and I will look into the Judge."
The group made their way out side, dispersing into their separate groups and make their way to the locations they had planned to investigate.
Mr. Todd walked along side Ms. Lovett as they made their way past the citizens of London as their monotone chatter echoed throughout the cobblestone streets. The air was thick with moister from the late night rain. The drenched cobblestone left little friction and led to several accidents that morning alone.
Mr. Todd's gaze darted back and forth as he searched for familiar faces that might recognize him.
"Cheer up love," Ms. Lovett wrapped her arm around his. "It's a lovely day. Besides we got to find some dough for me pies."
Mr. Todd couldn't relax despite her words. He both hated and feared this city. If he was discovered to be alive then he could be hanged if lucky, and he refused to die before the Judge. The Judge. The very thought of the cruel man sent chills up Sweeney's spine. The cold cruel lifeless eyes, the hooked nose, and echoing voice sickened Mr. Todd, but it was more than that. It was more than just hatred or the resentment of years lost. It was a hunger. He began to drool as he imagined what he would do to the inhumane monster. The savage revenge he would inflict upon the man. In his psychotic daydreaming he failed to notice Ms. Lovett returning with a basket carrying flower, eggs, and butter that she had acquired form the local merchant.
"You alright there love." She pointed to his chin. "Little spittle on your chin. Hold on." She reached up gently running her thumb across his face wiping the saliva off.
"It hasn't changed."
"What hasn't love." Ms. Lovett asked as they continued down the street.
"London." Mr. Todd replied. "The smell, the air, the buildings. The same as when Johanna was separated from me. I can still hear her screams as I was dragged from my life to hell." He spit the last words with venomous malice.
Suddenly a crowd began to herd around a strange mobile tent like wagon that placed itself obnoxiously in the middle of the street. The wood was polished and a deep brown oak. A perfect wood for the damp air. The white tarp was stained with several color splotches from the bleaching effects of the sun. A dim light bleed thru the tarp form a oil lamp from the inside.
"I wonder whats going on here. Seems to be some sort of street performance." Ms. Lovett noted.
Indeed it did, but why would it be here? Mr. Todd thought to himself.
Suddenly the front of the tarp flung open with a swish of air caught by the cloth. A man stepped out dressed in flamboyant blue clothes with golden lacing, large bow tie ascot, thin french mustache, and hair combed over to the side twisted into buns. He walked with a goose like grace as he flailed his arms wildly in the air.
"Ladies and Gentlemen" He announced. "I am Adolfo Pirelli, and I am the king of the barbers, the barber of kings. Unmatched with the razor." He continued to boast as he strutted across his stage. Swinging his straight razor in circles while walking back and forth across the stage.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have arrived here today to provide you a tonic," He shouted. "A tonic that will cure all your hair related ailments. This tonic in fact." He held a transparent glass bottle filled with yellow liquid. "This ladies will give your balding man a full head of hair. Simply rub some over his head at night and he will be running for a hair cut."
As he spoke he poured some of the contents into his hands. Pirelli forcefully rubbed some of the tonic onto the scalp of a balding man who stood directly in front of the stage. He then tossed a bottle into the crowd allowing the onlookers to sample the product. It took several minutes for the bottle to be passed around, and all the while the ones who participated in the sampling bore looks of utter disgust and revolt from the foul smelling fluid. When the bottle had finally made its way to Sweeney Todd he cautiously lifted the rim of the glass bottle to his nostril and tentatively inhaled. The smell burned his nose and forced bile up his throat.
"Dear god! This smells like piss!" He exclaimed. The crowd grew silent as Pirelli stopped dead in his tracks. The first time he had stood still since he began his performance. His sharp rat eyes scanned the crowd looking for the voice that would dare insult his hair tonic.
"Who dares," He spoke softly. "Who dares insult the great Pirelli. The King of Barbers. Who dares insult me!" His words grew alarmingly loud as he spoke. The silence of the crowd only caused Pirelli's voice to carry louder and longer that it should have.
The crowd remained silent for a short time. No one answered. No one pointed fingers. Not a single one knew who's words had insulted the Performer.
"I do," Mr. Todd said. " I tell you and the people of London that your tonic is nothing more than water, alcohol, and piss. I have never shaved the face of a king, but I wager that I could shave with ten time the dexterity that you could."
It was now time for Ms. Lovett to chime in. "He's right. Better to throw your money down the sewer than spend it on this trash."
Pirelli smiled at his challenger. "Very well then. How about a bet. If by some miracle you manage to win I will pay your one hundred pounds." He pulled out a money purse that clang with a metallic jingle. "Now what will you offer for my prize?"
Sweeney Todd dug in the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a long silver straight razor. He handed it to Pirelli. Pirelli inspected it closely. He gave a smile and handed it back to Mr. Todd.
"Very well. The contest will begin." He announced to the crowd as they cheered. "Can I have a volunteer judge."
"I will judge your contest." A larger pudgy man stood up. His face was large with long dirty blond hair. On his head he wore a bowler hat, a long coat, and a walking cane that doubled as a weapon. "Now gentlemen why don't you set the stage and I will develop the rules."
The two set off. While Pirelli brought out a luxurious black leather barbers chair. Sweeney was to settle with a chair from the side of the street. This didn't bother him. Instead he focused on the volunteer judge. Beadle Bamford. The Judges right hand man. The one who wrongly arrested Todd. The vile man who lured his wife to be raped by the Judge. Mr. Todd would occasionally look towards the Beadle with absolute hatred. Sweeney would not dare stare longer than a few seconds in case Beadle recognized him. Once the preparations had been set the Beadle called out for the gathering crowd to be quite.
"Now, the rules are simple." The Beadle announced. "The first to get the cleanest shave is the winner."
Pirelli was the first to begin. He lazily slapped shaving cream onto his subjects face with his hands. The man grunted as each slap hit his face. Sweeney Todd however had not even begun to attend to his man and instead stared at his image in the reflection of his razor.
"You should begin soon sir." Pirelli scoffed. "Or else you will need to use shears. By the time you finally start to shave his beard will be to the floorboards." His joke earned an abundance of laughter at Mr. Todd's expense. Sweeney Todd payed them no mind. He began to slowly dip his brush into the bowl of shaving cream and gently spread it on the mans face.
Pirelli flashed his razor and moved it close to the mans face. He flinched as the metal crept closer to his neck. With each flick of his wrist a tiny portion of face was shaved and a piece of skin was sliced off. Each grunt of the man caused the crowed to grab at their throat in unison at the thought of the rough shave. Mr. Todd stood off to the side of the chair wiping the razor's blade with a cloth.
Once Pirelli was half way done with his volunteer Sweeney Todd began. With swift movement Todd scraped the razor's edge across the face of his volunteer. His technique was incredible. Such speed matched by master precision. With each shave he would flick the shaving cream off before returning to the man's face. Shave then flick, shave then flick. In seconds he was done. The man's face was clean cut with minimal shaving cream residue.
Beadle approached him and examined his work.
"Mr. Todd is the winner!" Beadle shouted.
The crowd cheered. Throwing hands up, screaming. The first sound of excitement the streets of London had heard in the last few decades.
"Well Mr. Todd, I must say you have bested me at my own game." Pirelli bowed.
"Money." Sweeney held his hand out towards Pirelli.
"Of course." Pirelli smiled as he dug out the money pouch. He tossed it to Sweeney Todd who caught it with ease. Pirelli cleared his throat.
"I was wondering if I could beg for your company today?" Pirelli asked. "I would like to ask if I could converse with you about certain things."
"Very well," Mr. Todd half heartily responded. "If you like you may find me at fleet St." Pirelli bid him goodbye.
"Have I heard right?" Beadle approached Mr. Todd. "Do you have your own place of work."
"Yes. On Fleet street." Mr. Todd smiled. A fake smile that hid his murderous intentions.
"Well then Mr. Todd you can expect me at the end of the week." Beadle walk off.
It was finally happening Sweeney Todd realized. He was so close to his revenge. First he would kill the Beadle, then the Judge. Firstly, he would have to attend to his 'guest' at his shop.