Hey there! Remember I said this next chapter was subject to change? Well, it did. They're not at the theatre yet. Instead, it's a Sebastian-kicks-ass scene! So as a heads up, there is a bit of violence here, but it's not any worse than the Assassin chapter. Not really. Maybe a little. Also, references galore! And no footnotes for any of them, either. If you spot them, they'll be our bookwormy secret. shh-

Hailing a cabbie early on a Saturday evening in Manchester was nearly as frustrating as it was in London, but after much shouting, standing on tip-toes and arms tingling from numbness after swaying listlessly in the air, the Butler finally managed to flag a driver down. Thus far, the night had already been trying the pair's nerves. Just twenty minutes before, they had stopped in at the local police station to inform the Yard and the Manchester police what must be done later that night. But had Ciel known how blundering the leading officer would be, he wouldn't have bothered in the first place. To detail verbatim their exchange of words would cost this story precious time, so for the sake of all involved a paraphrasing of the conversation would go something like this: ahem.

Officer: Who are you?

Ciel: Your worst nightmare.

Officer: Why are you here?

Ciel: None of your business.

Officer: What do you want?

Ciel: We need you to arrest some people.

Officer: Why?

Ciel: Trust me.

Officer: Why should I?

Ciel: Because I said so.

Officer: Alright.

Ciel: May I use your phone?

Officer: Sure.

Once in the cab, Ciel fussed with the cuffs of his black satin gloves and crossed and uncrossed his legs several times. To preoccupy his growing agitation, he pulled from his coat pocket the crumpled napkin on which Harrison had written directions to the theatre. He and Sebastian were to be driven to a certain park and left off by a certain tree. They would walk a certain path to a certain road to be greeted by a certain man who would act like a tour guide. This certain tour guide would take them and certain group of others (whom they would meet along that certain road) to a certain show. Ciel had asked how he and Sebastian were to be sure that they were going the right way. Harrison had told them to trust their instincts. Ciel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Worse comes to worst, he'll just have the Butler sniff them out again.

Though the night was thick with sounds of the city, footsteps and quick breath, laughing and drunken sing-a-longs, Sebastian could still make out the thunder of the Master's heartbeat.

"Are you nervous, sir?" the Butler asked.

Ciel looked up quickly and snapped, "No! I am only exhausted from all of these sob stories and their respective perversions."

"Sob stories, eh?"

"What would you call them?"

"Mere recollections." Sebastian shrugged. "Did you find them to be sad?"

"No."

"Then why dub them with the title 'sob stories?'"

"Because, Harrison obviously painted a rosy picture of the whores' suffering as much as David did, whether he wants to admit it or not," Ciel spat.

"..."

"..."

"If I may say," Sebastian began, "you did seem judgmental of their street walking lifestyle."

Ciel tilted his head. "Did I? I may have been projecting."

"How so?" Sebastian asked.

"The reason why people say things like 'I have no idea how you could do something like that' is only because they can't imagine doing it themselves," Ciel explained. "It's a very selfish form of empathy. It still lingers a bit from the 'moral teachings' of my younger years."

"And you do not think of yourself as so egocentric now?"

"No. Not in that way, at least."

Sebastian smiled. "Quite." Ah, that infamous poker face. It made for the Young Master a most handsome mask.

The carriage ride passed by mostly in silence. Ciel did not want to speak on the topic anymore and Sebastian saw no purpose in forcing him to. Instead, the Butler passed the time gazing out the window like the Young Master had taken to doing. As they drove through the park, the crowds' number thinned as the sun had fallen quickly. Or, rather, it had fallen just on time. He and the Master were the ones running late for a very important date, not Nature. Hopefully, that Harrison fellow had not yet flaked on their rendezvous.

Speaking of rendezvous. Sebastian suddenly noticed that the carriage had driven past that certain tree; a giant dogwood that made of the shining, foot-worn cobblestone a bed of wilted pink petals. They continued driving along a dirt path that ran through a dense patch of a miniature wood. Sebastian looked to the Master. He paid no mind to the shifty change in scenery. Because of that static tingling that danger sparks on his scalp, Sebastian felt it necessary to alert him.

"I do not mean to startle you, Young Master," Sebastian kept his voice hushed, "but I believe that our trip to the theatre may not be so peaceful."

Ciel sighed and continued looking out the window. "Why would it be? No rest for the wicked."

Sebastian laughed a bit. "You're a quick study. Excuse me then while I double-check with the cabbie." He stuck his head and shoulder out of the window. "Driver! You seem to have taken us past our drop off. Might you stop here?"

The driver did not turn around as he spoke. "Too dangerous to be leavin' you in the park like this, after dark and all. There's a boardwalk just ahead with much better lighting."

Sebastian settled back into his seat. "It looks like an ambush is inevitable," he informed the Master.

Ciel sighed again and looked at the Butler. "Honestly, it would have been strange if this didn't happen."

The carriage stopped suddenly amidst the overgrown shrubs and trees. There was not a lamp to be seen.

"Well, you know what to do, Sebastian. No struggling-"

"-until the coast is clear." The Butler bowed his head. "As you wish, my Lord."

The leaves outside rustled and the quick pounding of footsteps were heard all around the carriage. The doors of the cab were thrown open and the Earl and his Butler were yanked fiercely out by rough, dirty hands. Ciel's captor encircled both of his wrists with one hand and knotted his fingers in his hair. Sebastian laughed at the man's roughness as one of his two captors screwed his arms up behind his back with one hand, and held onto his neck with the other. The third man, who had been acting as the driver, held a loaded pistol to Sebastian's head.

"You won't be laughin' after we're through with ye!" said the driver. The three hired hitmen lead the Earl and his Butler into the woods.

As they walked, Ciel pondered whether or not Harrison had been part of this. Looking back, it was foolish of Ciel to simply hop into any old carriage when he was in a city full of spies on the lookout for him. Why had he followed Harrison's directions so closely? He had seemed genuine. And though that was no real reason to fully trust someone, perhaps it was too early to discredit him completely. There could be a chance that he had no idea this would happen. Or perhaps he did know, and he was at that very moment being punished for fraternising with the enemy. Whichever it was, Ciel would find out sooner or later. Now if only that rogue would stop pulling his hair!

In time, Ciel, Sebastian and their violent company came into a small area that was free of vegetation. Standing in the middle of said clearing was a man with a scabby face. His laughter was mirthless as he looked at the two prisoners. "This is it?" he asked. "This is who we were hired to deal with? A swanky lover-boy and some little girl?"

"I am not a girl!" Ciel said crossly. The hitman tugged on his hair again.

Scabby face shrugged. "Coulda fooled me. But that's not important. Our charge, who I'm sure you've met, has told us that this is your last chance." He brandished a knife with a thick, harsh blade. It shone in the full moon's light like a vicious lantern. The hold on Ciel's wrists grew tighter, if that were possible. "I don't know how many you were given," Scabby continued, "but you should consider yourselves lucky that you got any at all. This is your final warning. You're outnumbered now."

"We were outnumbered the first time, too, but that didn't stop us," Ciel pointed out.

"Oh, right!" said Scabby. "The train incident! I heard about that! Well, I give credit where credit is due. You two are more ruthless than you look. But I take it you're not turning back?"

Ciel shook his head. "No."

Scabby sighed. "Ah. That's too bad. How should we handle this then, boys?"

The man who was holding Ciel answered. "I say we get rid of this lil' shrimp first. Romeo can watch oh-so helplessly while his master is cut into ribbons- like the ones he has on his pretty hat." With that, he knocked off Ciel's topper and ground it into the dirt with his shoe. Sebastian huffed a little. And he had special-ordered that hat from Paris on a generous whim of his. It had become one of the Master's favourites. What a vulgar cad. The man brought the Master to Scabby.

Ciel looked back to the Butler, annoyed. "Whenever it suits you, Sebastian."

"Whenever what suits me?" Sebastian teased.

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "Oh, shut up. This is an order: get rid of these men."

Sebastian revealed his pointed canines as he smiled. "Yes, my Lord."

He freed his arms like he was Houdini and with one hand bent the pistol that had been held to his head like a circus pretzel. With the other hand, he grabbed the arm that had been hooked around his throat and flipped its joined body over his head. Sebastian pressed his captor to the ground with his foot, pulled straight his arm and twisted it just so to fracture every bone therein. The fallen man screamed and Sebastian kicked him out of the way. The other who had been holding the pistol pulled a metal shank* from his pocket. For a hired killer, he wasn't very professional. He rushed at Sebastian, bellowing wildly. Sebastian stood poised for the attack like a matador and caught the man head on. Swiftly, the Butler pivoted on the spot and brought the man's back against his chest. He wrested away the shank and drew its serrated blade deeply across his victim's throat, relishing the caress of hot blood cascading down his silk encased fingers. Sebastian released his hold and the man fell limply to the ground.

Scabby looked astonished for a second but quickly grabbed Ciel and addressed his partner gruffly. "Don't just stand there! Stop him, why don't you?"

The other, who was of a Herculean body type, nodded and turned. He stood with his feet wide apart and looked the Butler up and down, sizing him up. He was waiting for Sebastian to move first. Sebastian laughed and obliged. He wiped the bloody shank clean on his trousers. He stepped forward and was surprised by a bundle of fat knuckles against the right side of his jaw. He was met with the same kind of punch on the other side, a swift pop under the chin and a masterful blow to the centre of his chest. Sebastian stumbled backwards and coughed up a splash of blood.

"If we're giving credit where credit is due," he said as he licked his lips clean of gore, "I am impressed by your combative skills."

The Boxer grinned maliciously. "Thank you, sir. I've been a 'eavyweight champ since I turned nineteen."

Sebastian brought up his fists to match his enemy's. "Then I look forward to battling a formidable opponent."

"As do I," said the Boxer.

The two box-stepped around each other. Perhaps stupidly, Sebastian stole a glance over at the Young Master to ensure that he was still safe and was clipped across the nose by his enemy. He was given only half a second to recover before the most tender part of his temple was knocked in. For a moment, his vision went black and while he was blinded the same fist split open his lips against his incisors. Presently, the Butler's sight came back to him. He caught the Master's eye and was surprised to see that the boy looked worried. So came the time to end his attempts at appearing human and be done with it. Sebastian threw a kick to the Boxer's stomach. The Boxer keeled forward and received a punch on either side of his face and a pointed elbow to the tip of his crown. He collapsed into a fleshy heap of what looked like dirty laundry. The Butler turned to the only remaining enemy who had the length of his blade pressed into Ciel's neck.

Scabby looked comical, his mouth drawn into an exaggerated frown and his eyebrows raised high with surprise. "Hmm. Good work, Romeo! If we weren't on opposite sides, I would want to offer you a job!"

"Is that so?" Sebastian pulled down the sleeves of his coat. "I noticed that you did not do anything to assist your friends."

Scabby shrugged. "More money for me."

"I wouldn't be so greedy," Sebastian advised.

"Why's that?"

"Because," Sebastian said, "in order for you to collect your pay, you will need to kill us. And that will not be happening."

Scabby feigned his sadness. "Oh, won't it, though?" He pressed the unforgiving blade into Ciel's slim neck. The boy twitched and gasped as a thin strip of crimson appeared along the blade's sharpened edge. Sebastian stared for a moment, riveted by the luscious pooling of red, blooming like a thousand petal lotus against the ivory canvas of the Master's soft throat. Perhaps just a quick taste. A harmless little glimpse into the (surely to be) toothsome feast of his Master's soul. A progress report, of sorts. A sampling of years of cultivation, greed and darkness...

"Sebastian!" Ciel's voice called the Butler back from his almost lascivious imaginings. "I gave you an order!" Just as Ciel spoke, Sebastian saw that the scabbed man meant to press the blade harder into the boy's neck to puncture the jugular. The Butler rushed forward then and knocked the man's head backwards, snapping his neck at the base of his skull. Death was instant and merciful, two things that Sebastian preferred it never to be, but the situation did not give allowance for delay.

The Butler kneeled down, removed the handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it delicately to Ciel's wound. To describe the scent of it. If he could bottle that essence, he would. Like sterling roses in partial bloom, were one to allow oneself to be captivated by their frosty charms at midnight, mysterious and slightly forbidden. Would the Master mind terribly if...

"Sebastian."

The Butler's trance was again broken by reply so aptly spoken. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" The boy looked wary and he backed away slightly. "You're staring."

"I am perfectly alright," Sebastian assured. "The question is, are you alright?"

"I'm just fine!" Ciel said defensively.

Sebastian closed his eyes and smiled. "I am glad. But I am ashamed that you were injured at all."

Ciel looked away. He held the handkerchief to his neck after the Butler had stood up. "It's fine," Ciel said. "It didn't even hurt, really. Now let's leave. We're late enough as it is."

"Of course, sir. Even for a nobleman, fashionable lateness has its limits." Sebastian lifted Ciel into his arms and turned to leave, permitting his senses to have their fill of the blood-scent that was (sadly) already fading. Just as the two were on their way out, a stifled moan caught their attention. They looked to the ground at the man whose arm Sebastian had broken. He was slowly worming away using his non-wounded appendages. Sebastian looked to Ciel hopefully.

Ciel sighed. "Do what you will."

Sebastian smiled. "If you would avert your eyes then, my Lord. You have already seen too much and the night is still young." Ciel hid his face in the Butler's shoulder, the arm that was not nursing his wound looped around Sebastian's neck. There followed a nauseating crunch of bones and the spattering of slippery viscera. Ciel did not bother to lift his head as they left the woods, leaving behind them another scar of their ruthlessness.

*A shank is prison slang for a knife that's been sharpened from scrap metal.

So, I hope you liked this bloody little side-trek. The next chapter FOR SURE they reach the theatre. :P