Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

Eric observed the rooftop fight from the street, as did several other reapers. Some clustered to together, others approached or at least attempted to fallow the nonstop movements of the two that danced about above. No one was stupid enough to get between Undertaker during a fight, they knew that a single cleave from his sickle would be the end of them. But whispers and disappointed groans from the crowd came about every time Undertaker trusted his death scythe forward and miss.

"The little bitch," he growled, jaws clenching. He let her have a chance to escape but now that she was caught, what would happen to the deal? It would only be a manner of seconds until she would loose her footing or slow down to allow Undertaker the upper hand in this dogfight. All that she had done was be the offense, so it would really count as an assault. Eric had to think quick but his thoughts were cut off when he heard a familiar engine roaring through the turned his head to the right and spotted a lawnmower soaring like a bird across two buildings. "Knox...shit..."

He looked around, reapers were already gathering when Undertaker cornered Samantha at the edge of the highest building (which was about twenty stories high), his death scythe was extended ahead of him, one of the skulls was pointed strait at her. Eric gritted his teeth; Samantha looked ready to collapse any second while Undertaker was grinning madly without a sweat. At least, that is if anyone could see the sweat. Fuck it. Eric shook his head. If this was her problem, she would have been more careful. He began to strode away casually, his coolness shielding him from anyone asking questions; not that they would grow suspicious due to events in the sky.

When his head turned, there was a deafening clang of metal against rotating blades. In front of him, he saw sparks tinkle down like raindrops but he brushed it away and continued on for the Library.

-...-

Sparks flew from the two death scythes as Ronald boosted the speed of the blade's rotation, Undertaker grinned even wider and chuckled over the grinding,"That's an interesting modification you have there."

"Thanks, the lady you're attacking right now is the one who helped me through the process!" Ronald yelled as he kicked at the engine; the force sent Undertaker's death scythe to the side and allowed Ronald to land in between the two gracefully. He flipped the switch on the handle and his death scythe quieted to a mild purr. Samantha, eyes bulging like a goldfish, stood at the very edge of the roof, threatening to fall when given a reason. Ronald threw a wink to her and reverted his attention to Undertaker, who brought his sickle upright to lean against.

"...she did that? Hmmmm, very difficult...but I will tell you this...um, what was it? Ah, Ronald." He pointed a black nail at the trembling Samantha. "Help me arrest her, she's a traitor-"

"I don't care what she is, why the hell does she have to be listed as one? She didn't even do a damn thing," Ronald spat, stepping in front of Samantha to protect her. He glared dangerously at Undertaker she she crawled forward to cling to Ronald's leg obsessively, hiding behind one of them. "You don't even have proof."

Undertaker suddenly broke into a laugh,"Proof? You never saw the Rip in your throat! I pumped that out of your very mouth and yet you ask for proof? Maybe it damaged your mind a bit, that's not surprising, even if it went after your heart. Now..get out your cuffs while she's still attached to you, Alan still needs to question her further. She's tied up with the collapse of the other Divisions, yes? It wouldn't kill to look into her Cinematic Records if she can't talk. Hey, little wolf." He peered along Ronald's side. "I gave you something to heal that tongue problem. Do I get a thank you?"

"He's lying, Ronald!" Samantha cried, Ronald looked down at her to see blood splattered across her front, some even leaked from her mouth and there was a slur in her speech. "Don't listen t...to him! He's...he's mad!"

"Mad as The Hatter," he uttered to her, hand venturing to reassuringly stroke her hair. She leaned towards his touch until Undertaker broke it by approaching them and hurling the blade of his death scythe at Ronald's own weapon. The blond responded quicker and hoisted his lawnmower high enough to avoid contact, then he slammed it down and allowed the curve of the sickle to become entwined with the pole attached to the scythe. "If it's a fight you want, then I'll go for it."

Undertaker frowned, the handle of his sickle cradled between both arms and hugged to his chest as he lunged forward; a single lurching movement back could sever Ronald if he failed to move. "Go against my order to you and you'll be considered a traitor as well." The mortician's grip slackened on the handle but was ready to tighten when necessary. An idea popped under Undertaker's hat and he decided to put it to use. "What is it that makes her so important to you?"

Ronald froze in place. His eyes trained on Undertaker as he came closer, hand before hand in an odd manner like that of a spider. The wispy silver locks danced, signifying that he realized he gained the upper hand against him; he smiled, teeth beginning to show. As he came closer, Ronald stepped away from the lawnmower and Undertaker lifted his death scythe out away from Samantha. If Ronald had the sense to look back, he would have noticed that the blade had sliced into the bridge of Samantha's nose, slivering a millimeter of flesh.

Importance? Ronald pondered over this absentmindedly but by the looks of it, he was fixated on that thought, completely ignoring Samantha's desperate pleas of, 'Just kill me now!' as Undertaker picked her up by her mousy brown hair and began to drag her away. She trashed about in pain, screaming her heart out, while Ronald watched quietly. The group of spectators below observed the handling of Samantha and decided to not bother with it.

He watched her claw at the end of Undertaker's coat. Instantaneously, he whirled around and brought his right leg up in a perfect 180 degree angle while sending away his sickle. She tried to cover herself by curling into a ball on her side; this made the result even worse when the madman hammered the heel of his boot into the side of one of her knees. With one knee stacked upon the other leg's calf, the knee on top popped and crackled under pressure. Even flesh was torn as he dug his heel even more to easily snap the delicate calf bone.

Satisfied with his work, Undertaker giggled and pranced away, dragging his prey with him towards the Library. Ronald could only watch in terror as Samantha groaned and withered in pain, sobbing into the afternoon sunset, as she was slammed into various buildings, leaving a bloody splotches in Undertaker's wake. It was an overwhelming question, and much to his own nightmare he failed to choose an answer, only remaining silent. Part of him wanted to save Samantha for sentimental reasons, another part wanted to do as she said and spare her the suffering, another part wanted to fight against Undertaker for what Ronald saw as the truth of Samantha, and a final part just wanted him to die of guilt.

-...-

Sloosh. Sloosh...Pop!...Sloosh...Pop!

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Alan used the exposed part of his arm to wipe his forehead from the sweat that had developed. Sure, reapers could have the ultimate stamina but work strained on to his lithe, weak body had rendered it to be as fragile as a human's at times. He glanced over his work, mop in a bucket, and sighed contentedly. Now William won't bitch at me anymore. He grabbed the bucket without difficulty and began his journey for the storage room where cleaning supplies were kept. Should a reaper make a mess, they were required to clean. It was common sense and reapers were prideful creatures at times, not wanting others to do work for them. Even the most laziest ones never let others do laundry.

When it came to paperwork and overtime, however, it was an entirely different story. Alan opened the door and placed the bucket down while leaving the mop inside with the water. Someone else can take care of that. Unlike most reapers, Alan was more lenient against the whole pride thing most reapers have. He closed the door and adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt so that it was at his wrists. Slowly, he walked on, heading for his now clean office, slightly proud of his own little cleaning in the Library. Luckily, few were browsing the Cinematic Records so being discreet was easily done.

He headed for an elevator but heard the small ding and looked at the nearest one to see the golden gates open as he set his foot down. Convenient. When it opened, he patiently waited for the reaper to step out but to his shock, Undertaker strode out casually, drawing a heavily bruised and battered Samantha by the hair, to make his way to the Infirmary. From what he could tell, her limbs were shattered since they drudged against the flooring languidly like a doll. Undertaker was humming an eerie tune, but the chill of the song waded away when Alan realized Samantha was staining the previously mopped floor.

An eyebrow twitched in utter agitation, then Alan exploded,"Why the hell is she dead? !" He nearly slipped on the blood. "And I just cleaned this up!"

The only answer he received was a door flying open and shouts exchanging from person to person.

A/N: Whether people reply or not, I will see this fic to the very end! But..I do appreciate it if there's more variety in readers reviewing! C'mon, guys...there's so many reading and yet very few are actually reviewing! Thanks to those who do!Finals are going on for the next two weeks but I'll try to update as soon as possible~!

READ AND REVIEW~!