Welcome back! Enjoy!
"Mister Kirkland! I want- No, I DEMAND you to stop right NOW!" Vash yelled, almost tripping over a tombstone while he followed the fleeing figure across the graveyard. "Stop or I will arrest you immidiately!"
Arthur turned around, a sneer on his face. "Leave me alone!" He snarled, barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain. He took off again, cutting trough hedges and fields in order to get the Swiss detective of his back.
"Where were you when Francis Bonnefoy was murdered?"
"FUCK OFF!"
"You know.." Vash panted, struggling to keep up with the dancer, who had a lean but muscular body and an excellent condition. "You're only drawing more suspision towards yourself by fleeing from me!"
"I am innocent!"
"You are in no position to draw more suspision to yourself, Mister Kirkland!" Vash warned, trying to keep his wet hair out of his face, the rain chilling him to the bone.
Arthur threw him a panicked glance over his shoulder. "Shut up!"
"JUST ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTIONS, KIRKLAND! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN FRANCIS BONNEFOY WAS MURDERED?"
"That's none of your bloody buisiness!"
Vash roared, lunging forward, trying to grab Arthur's sleeve. He cursed as the fabric slipped through his fingers, his feet slipping on the wet cobblestones. Arthur turned around just in time to see Swiss detective crash into the ground, and the Brit cackled in relief.
"Answer me!" Vash panted, trying to push himself upright, hissing as his burning hands scraped across the cold stone. "Did you murder him?"
He balled his hands into fists as Arthur ignored him, feeling his own cheeks flush with anger.
"Did you do it? Did you watch as the light left his eyes after you bashed his head in? ANSWER ME!" He screamed, feeling something warm drip from the side of his face onto his hands as he crawled forward towards the Brit, who'd stopped dead in his tracks.
Arthur slowly turned around, coldly looking down at the detective. "Why would I such a thing? Why would I murder the frog?" He stated calmly, extending his hand towards Vash.
Vash ignored the outstretched hand and quickly got to his feet, standing so close to his headsuspect their noses were almost touching. He carefully studied the Brit. He looked bad, Vash noticed immediately, very bad. His cheeks were hollow and he had large purple bags underneath his eyes. He tried to keep his face neutral but Vash could see flashes of blind panic crossing the piercing, green eyes. The overall picture, with messy hair, a stained suit and rain dripping down his face reminded him of a lost puppy.
"Oh, I don't know, because you hated him, perhaps?" Vash said coolly, running a casual hand through his hair, trying to ignore that the hand was stained red as he returned it to his side.
A bony hand grabbed his collar, and suddenly he found himself forced to look up into a pair of furious green eyes.
"Who told you I murdered Francis!? It was her, wasn't it?" Arthur hissed, roughly shaking his interrogator.
"I don't know who the fuck you are talking about, Kirkland." Vash snarled, trying to pry the hands of his collar.
"That bloody bitch! Van Rijn!" Arthur had completely dropped the calm facade by now, face twisted in an expression which was a mix between fright and absolute rage. He shook Vash again. "She's lying, I'm telling you! She is nothing but a backstabbing bitch who tries to ruin peoples lives!"
He released Vash, staring at the detective with wide eyes. "They all suspect me. Everyone is against me."
His lower lip started to tremble.
"Mister Kirkland-Arthur-" Vash began, internally panicking, because he wasn't really sure how to handle a fully grown, crying man,but he was cut off by Arthur's shriek.
"EASY, ISN'T IT? Blame everything on Arthur fucking Kirkland, because he couldn't stand the sight of that arrogant French slut!"
He hid his face into his hands, tugging on his straw-blonde hair, his sleeves traveling up his arm, revealing bruised forearms. He shrieked again. "LET ARTHUR KIRKLAND TAKE THE SHIT SO THEY CAN SAVE THEIR OWN SORRY ASSES!"
"Mister Kirkland, please calm down. If you are truly innocent, I will prove it."" Vash said cautiously, taking a few steps back.
The straw-blonde head snapped towards him, staring at Vash with wide eyes, breathing heavily.
"I wanted to kill him, ofcourse." He laughed, a high-pitched, insane sound, causing the hairs on the back of Vash's neck to rise.
"Oooh, I would've murdered him! The bloody frog has been ruining my life since we were kids!"
Vash opened his mouth again, but decided against it as Arthur glared in his direction, a ridiculous, disbelieving smile on his face. "I've known Francis since we were kids. We grew up together, in the same neighbourhood. When I was with him, I was always second best. He had the better looks, was a better dancer and had a better attitude. I'm pretty sure he was only friends with me out of PITY!" He paused for a moment, swallowing audibly. "I moved here, to the US, convinced I would finally be the number one for once. For once!" He cackled hysterically, causing Vash to search the pockets of his coat for a weapon.
"But NO!" Arthur laughed. "Guess who showed up after a few years? Interrupting my quiet life, stealing my small spotlight, trampling the beginnings of a serious career? Exactly. Francis fucking Bonnefoy. He was so damn smug about it too. He loved showering himself in Elizaveta's attention, probably just to spite me. He stole my big chance to finally get a main role, but you know? That was okay."
He gave Vash an unconvincing nod. "I-it was okay. I could take it. I didn't mind fighting for my own spot, you know, even though it was unfair. But then.." His voice broke. "Getting all the attention was apperently not enough for monsieur prima ballerina, he had to destroy everything...my own passion, my job, my chance."
"What did he do to you?" Vash said sternly, loosening the grip on the gun in his pocket.
"He..he was the one who ruined it for all of us. He wrecked Elizaveta and Roderich's marriage. He destroyed the whole ballet."
Arthur Kirkland finally cracked. He fell to his knees, sobbing hysterically. "Oh, how I would've liked to murder him! But when I saw his body..he used to be so handsome..but he was all, broken and ugly. Finally I was the more handsome one, but it made me feel sick to my stomach, it made me regret all the times I wished him dead."
He glanced up at Vash, teary-eyed, eyebrows crumpling into a frown. "Why am I telling you all of this!? You believe them, after all. You are only here to arrest me."
An awkward silence followed, Vash wiping raindrops from his nose for what felt like the 100th time while Arthur just sniffled.
"I believe no one but myself, mister Kirkland. Nobody will be arrested until I found convincing evidence." Vash stated coldly, returning to his normal, buisinesslike self. " The main reason you are suspected is because you were found on the crime scene, clutching the body, not because miss Van Rijn likes to gossip. Now tell me, if you didn't murder Francis Bonnefoy, why were you there?"
"Get out of my eyes, putain!"
Arthur didn't even hear Sesel Bonnefoy's shrieked insult. He was angry, seeing nothing but red, hearing nothing but his own feet stomping away from the balcony, away from her, through the hallway and his heart pounding in his chest. He felt furious and miserable and it was all Francis' fault. He was going to lose everything. The curtains were going to finally close for the HetaBallet, the stage was going to collapse, the people were going to leave, and they would take Arthur's hopes and dreams with them. He couldn't take this.
He was running now, the tiled floor becoming a blur underneath him, the edges of his vision fading into black, and he felt like he was losing all control. He grasped his hair, tugging, tugging harder, closing his eyes, squeezing, squeezing harder, maybe it was all a dream, maybe he would wake up now. Torn out hair in his hands and tears on his cheeks and it hurt, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest and he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream until his throat would dry out and his legs would collapse. He wanted to scream along with the voices in his mind.
It took him a while to figure out that the screams weren't his own.
Storage room. He was panicking now, breathing rapidly. The door opened, he stumbled inside.
A figure, curled up on the floor, sobbing, screaming. Those blue eyes he had known for so long, always twinkling with happiness, now shining with tears, looking up at him. This was what he had dreamed of, Francis Bonnefoy, his childhood friend, rival, archenemy, at his feet, crying, defeated, blood running from his beloved hair over his face, but somehow it wasn't quite right. Francis' lips were forming words, he was talking to him, a bloody hand pointing at something behind him, Arthur realized, too late. He saw stars, and suddenly the floor was approaching him rather quickly.
Black, nothing but his own heavy panting. Suddenly a voice in the background. Francis.
Arthur opened his eyes, lifting his head of the floor, trying to get a grasp of reality.
"Non! S'il te plaƮt!-Don't...you are not yourself right now! Spare his life..pl-"
Thunk. Everything grew quiet.
Pain. Pain everywhere. Silence, darkness. No sounds. It looked like he was on his own. Arthur pushed himself up, ignoring the warm liquid that was dripping from his nose and the aching pain in his chest and neck, staggering across the room, blindly searching for the lightswitch. As the lights blinked, they illuminated something that would forever haunt Arthur Kirklands dreams, keeping him up at night, causing him to hallucinate and become even more paranoid then he already was.
The body was broken and bent, sprawled against the cardboard boxes, as if it were thrown away without a single care. The limbs were bruised, dark blotches adorning the pale, yellow skin. The stench was filthy and sour and Arthur gagged, slowly sinking to his knees..
"So you didn't see the person who hit you?" Vash asked, watching Arthur intently.
The Brit could only nod shakily, trying very hard to get himself together. For the first time since they had started their conversation, Arthur looked directly at Vash, eyes full of despair.
"No..I didn't. And now-now eveybody thinks it was me...But I could never do such a thing. Not to Francis, not to anyone! Mister Zwingli, please. Whatever they may say, I am innocent, I swear!" Arthur hiccuped. "Please believe me."
"I do, mister Kirkland." Vash said softly, staring at his own reflection, depressed and tired, the left side of his face covered in a mix of blood, rain and mud, reflected in the puddle of rain that had formed underneath their feet. "I do believe you."
Zwingli Detectives
Vash Zwingli
Report: 8
Date: 6-4-2015
Crime: Murder
Place of crime: Building of the Hetaballet.
Victim: Francis Bonnefoy, 26, main role in "Wings" (Caused Edelstein & Herdevary to break up/ end of HetaBallet?)
Cause of death: Beaten to death with a heavy metal object. Suspect probably used gloves.
Suspects: Profession: Notes:
Arthur Kirkland,Ballet dancer,Found on the crime scene, strong hatred towards victim. (Knocked out on the crime scene?) Interrogated
Antonio Carriedo,Stylist, was in the ballroom (according to E.H)
Gilbert Beilschmidt,Stage technician Was in the theatre (according to R.E)
Ludwig Beilschmidt,Stage technician/builder
Lovino Vargas,Decor painter, was in the ballroom (according to E.H), made up an alibi for his brotherInterrogated
Feliciano Vargas,Ballet dancer, last one to talk to victim before he was murdered.
Sesel Bonnefoy,Ballet dancer,Sister of the victim, at home under supervision
Elizaveta Herdevary Ballet dancer/coach,Owner of HetaBallet. Broken ankle, not able to dance or work. was in the ballroom. Interrogated
Roderich Edelstein Ballet dancer, co-owner,Main role in "Wings", dislike towards victim, was in the theatre, Interrogated
Feliks Lukasiewicz Stylist, was in the ballroom (according to E.H) Interrogated
Bella Van Rijn Stylist,Was in the ballroom (according to E.H) claims to know something (crucial?) Interrogated
Natalia Braginski Ballet dancer
Ivan Braginski Ballet dancer, dislike towards victim
Yao Wang Ballet Coach,was in the ballroom (According to E.H) Interrogated
Task for now: Confirm Bella Van Rijn's alibi.
Find out who wrote the letter (Quick!)
It doesn't matter what kind of story I write, my England always ends up like this angsty, batshit insane, pathetic person :/ If you want to,let me know what you think of the story so far! Thank you for reading!
