Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji
Ronald stirred in his sleep. His mind spun as he tried to recollect where he was. Several gentle coos surrounded him, he opened his eyes to find the sun glaring down upon him.
"Ngh..."
"You're awake," came a voice, he recognized it to be Samantha's. He whirled around, hitting a body that laid nearby. He ground his teeth when he heard her hum a soft lullaby. He managed to sit up.
They were in a bed, one that had white, downy pillows filled with the feathers of a swan, giving it a cloud like appearance, and eggshell colored linens that stretched across the surface. Ronald peeled the sheets away from his body and instantly got out of the bed to find himself in a room that was beyond repair from damages done to it long ago.
Walls crumbled and the ceiling looked as though a monster torn it off. Vines curled around the openings and gaps if the walls, paintings and frames were strewn across the floor, and the fireplace was dead with nothing but soot and a few weeds struggling for life. Ronald looked back at the bed to see Samantha tucked safely in the sheets; he remembered his original objective and intended on seeing it through. But first, he had to figure out where he was.
"Where...are we?" Ronald asked, he wandered over to a desk laddered with leaves and moss that grew contentedly in a dim area of the room. His death scythe's handle was propped against the edge of the desk, his knife was situated on a table cloth, and Samantha's Cinematic Record sat with a Death Bookmark perched on top. He reached over to touch the knife, then he looked over his shoulder at Samantha as if expecting for her to answer.
"The Human Realm...Spears Manor...1887 if you want the year," she stated as she sat up in bed. She wore a white sleeping gown and had only the blankets covering her lower half. Ronald withdrew his hand from his knife and left it there as he approached the bed, she eyed him with hope but then it changed to dread. "Ronald...something's wrong with Master..."
"Yeah, and you too," he murmured.
He got on to the bed next to her but then grabbed a pillow. Ronald was surprised as to why she never caught on to the hint of him readying to murder her. Is she stupid or just desperate?
"I...he ordered me to leave you here and help out back in the Everto but...I can't leave you here in the Human Realm, it's dangerous. But after this, Master says I could keep you, we'll get married," she babbled on but then Ronald sighed, annoyed by her prattle. He brought a hand to her chest and pushed her down. His hand clutched at the pillow as he took it to her throat; he straddled her waist for good measure and pushed onto the pillow on both sides of her head, cutting off air circulation for her. She obviously screamed and thrashed about under his weight but he placed more pressure.
Her hands flailed, slapping Ronald's thighs before digging into them, he hissed at the pain but continued to suffocate her. A few minutes passed and soon her movements ceased, slowing and then stopping. Her body laid limp underneath, a hand twitched but no more signs of life was evident.
Ronald still pinned her down to make sure she was dead, then slowly, he got off her waist and sat right next to her; he ran a hand through his hair. "...damn it...that might give me overtime..."
He sighed and glanced back at Samantha's unmoving form, he removed the pillow to see Cinematic Records burst forth from her mouth and flutter over to the Cinematic Record on the desk. The book opened itself and allowed the reel to enter within its pages, forever embedding itself until Judgment Day. His brows furrowed and he cracked his back, birds fluttered around the room's open ceiling, he got up from the bed and traversed over to the desk, gathering his death scythe, knife, and Death Bookmark, but he left the Cinematic Record.
"Stupid bitch," he scoffed as he left through a formal doorway. He found himself in a corridor that suffered the same condition as the room.
The sunlight poured through the various openings, the very structure looked as though it were to crumble if a single gust of wind blew by. Ronald sent away his lawnmower and walked down the hallway, only to have the end of his blazer tugged. Ronald's heart skipped a beat. I just killed her.
He turned to see the familiar face of Alan Humphries' younger sibling.
"Heather? !" He nearly shouted at her, surprised and confused.
She had changed quite dramatically since he last saw her. Her height was only three inches below him but she was clearly taller than her older brother. For the Academy, reapers begin training at a young age before reaching their teens, making it (on average) a decade to complete the entire training for reaping souls. Maturity came to those students and she had reached those years a few before. Her hair was longer, nearly down to her waist, being unkempt after two years of her disappearance. Her face was slightly tanned and she had noticeable bags under her eyes.
She wore a white dress, frilly and modest, but it looked lavishing on her small figure. She gazed up at him with tearful eyes. Her arms were outstretched, he dropped his knife to his side and went to pull her into a tight embrace.
"E-Eric!" She squeaked out, he pulled her away so that he could wipe away her tears. Ronald had met with her on occasion, he found her very funny and bright, even cute since she was a decade or so younger than him; he would sometimes hang with Alan and Heather whenever there was a break between work and school, when he learned of her sudden disappearance, he never bothered to come after her.
Missing reapers nowadays were easily forgotten as new ones come to replace them.
"No, no, no, it's Ronald," he corrected her. He had just finished murdering someone out of cold blood, obviously he was still somewhat shaken and was trying to switch gears to be comforting for the woman. He checked her over and hugged her once more. At least, to make up for murdering someone, he could be crowned as a hero for recovering a lost reaper, especially one of the Elders' blood. She cried and he comforted her, her face buried into his chest. "What happened to you?"
"...Raoul!" She tried to push him away though she was locked into his arms. "Raoul's gone mad!"
"Heather, forget about him, we can go home and-"
"We can't! He told me that all those reapers he worked with are busy killing everyone!"
Ronald gave her a concerned look, then he sighed,"Start from the top, Heather," but then she wrenched herself away. She took off, cleaning her eyes from tears, and beckoned him to fallow. He scrambled to his feet and fallowed her as she asked him to. Despite running barefoot, Heather cared less of her own well-being as she bounced over wooden planks and support beams that had splinters sticking out in all directions. He managed to keep up and was at her side in a blink.
"What's happening? Where're we going?" His stomach ached and his head seemed to have been misplaced, he felt slightly nauseous.
"Raoul left me here to watch you and Samantha, he told me he had no more use and then gave me a Cinematic Rip! I remembered who I was and before I could go after him, he was gone! I went to the Everto and gathered the reapers that he...he switched souls with, I put them in the courtyard here for safe-keeping..."
"...that doesn't make any sense at a-"
"KNOX!"
He slammed strait into a towering form. He bounced back and landed onto the floor with a thud, groaning in pain. He felt a pair of hands grasp on to his shoulders and pull him to his feet. Ronald opened his eyes to see Lacey, the beer-bellied reaper, beaming strait at him. Ronald flinched when he laughed.
"Been a while, eh? !" Lacey exclaimed. "C'mon, I need your help. You got your scythe, right?"
"Um, yeah-"
"Go inside that courtyard around the corner and kill every single reaper you see, just make sure you collect the souls and I'll take over from there, alright?"
Ronald struggled in Lacey's hold. "Hn, you guys aren't even telling me what's going on! Who the fuck is Raoul? !"
-...-
Meanwhile, back at the Library, Undertaker and Ivan pushed back a group of reapers that crowded closer. Eric fallowed closely, his hands clutch to Alan's thighs as he carried him, he leaped over a reaper that lunged for them as Undertaker swung his scythe and decapitated him in an instant.
"A nice morning, is it not?" Undertaker snickered as he and Ivan stood back to back. The American pushed off him and whipped his bullwhip n a circle, knocking back the closest reapers.
"Is this how all British people greet Americans?" Ivan snorted as he whirled his whip once more.
The scenario that the group faced was a literal collapse in the London Division. A good hundred or more reapers, clad in their regular dress suits, were leading a slaughter fest of unsuspecting reapers that stood nearby. The steps of the Grand Stairs leading to the London Division's Library became a fountain of blood that poured from various areas, Undertaker nearly slid but took a grip to the railing as he killed the next reaper carrying a machine.
Eric jumped over a reaper swinging a buzz saw, he kicked him square in the face, sending him toppling down the stairs. Once the area was clear, they scurried down the stairs once more, until they reached the main road. There, amazingly, it was clean of any fighting, the group took advantage of it and made a mad dash through the main street. Undertaker glanced back to see the damage done to the town so far.
Smoke was in the distance, indicating that several buildings may have been set aflame, either intentional or accidental. Screams resonated and died away in waves as they rose and fell in volume and frequency, Undertaker closed his eyes and opened them as he faced his attention on the path ahead. He ran at the front, sickle held behind him, as he adjusted his hat. They pursued him even closer but skidded to a stop when he did.
They found themselves in a dingy district of their town, one that lacked class and moral but was home to the...far more demoted reapers. It was the only section in town untouched by the chaos. Trees grew but were undernourished and streetlights were bent out of place; it looked as though it had seen better days. The consistency of white to the buildings contrasted the whiteness of the offices and apartments in the rest of the town. One would say it was the slums of the London Division.
Undertaker sent away his death scythe though Ivan chose to remain on his guard, he rolled up his bullwhip but was ready to strike once more if a face appeared from behind a corner.
"Relax, you mangy American," Undertaker smiled as Eric situated himself between them and the wall. Undertaker had his hand pressed against a large wall, the fingers plucked at a brick until the cement plaster crumbled apart. He pulled a single brick out and blew at the hole in the wall. "Now...we just have to wait for the little bastard to come with the key..."
"So this is the Execution Circle," Eric said, looking up at the vast wall that expanded itself across the street,"a bit weird to put it here."
"Circle is sort of an understatement, Eric, it's more of a Rectangle but I thought it sounded sort of...drab, Circle put more of a kick to the name, see?"
Eric gave an understanding "Ah" when a redhead and Supervisor came sprinting down the street. Heels clicked and then clattered against the concrete and Grell panted, he held out a key for Undertaker to take in hand. The redhead breathed heavily as Undertaker examined the key, he gave an approving nod and shoved it into the hole in the wall. He wrinkled his nose. "What's that god-awful smell?" He sniffed the air as Ivan covered his nose with his sleeve, Eric grimaced as William walked by him.
"Grell thought it would be amusing to go down one of the rubbish chutes," William answered, glaring at the said redhead. Grell shrugged once his breath was caught.
"It's the quickest way down from the Library, Will...as much as I would hated it, I don't want to end up like Rivers!" Grell held up his hands in defense as the wall's bricks suddenly faded away into thin hair, revealing a large door towering overhead. "...well, that's unusual, why can't we use magic? It'd be dead useful, y'know..."
Undertaker and William worked together to push the door open as Ivan answered,"Because it came from demons, that's why." Before Grell could retort, the doors groaned in protest as they were forced open, only to reveal a large court that had a shack in the middle the large plot of land. Undertaker clapped his hands and beckoned the reapers to fallow; reluctant, Ivan had the courtesy of closing the doors behind them all. Undertaker skipped across the yard, the others running behind, as he approached the shack, knocking on the ancient door with his knuckles and earning a splinter.
"Executioner, get out here!" Undertaker cried happily, the door was wretched open; Grell cried out at the sight of the man.
All he wore was black, nothing but black and had a black woven potato-sack over his head. The black drabs he wore trailed around him and seemed to have been moth-eaten; silver hair poured out from under the sack over his head. Green eyes protruded from the twin holes to the bag, each scanning the crowd in front of him. Undertaker held out a hand to him, the man lifted his arm and reached out to him; bones of a hand stretched to shake Undertaker's.
Even Eric and Ivan had eyes wide in horror at the figure, William kept a neutral expression, Grell looked ready to pass out.
"Are you keeping up with the milk?"
No answer.
"Oh, whatever, are the horses alive?"
A nod.
"And you opened a gate to the Human Realm?"
Another nod.
The man, or whatever he was, stepped to the side and allowed them into the shack. Wooden planks for the floor were removed, revealing a long, dark tunnel that ran underground. The group hesitated but then William breezed passed them, being indifferent to the fear that emitted from the tunnel.
He turned around to look at them, he raised an eyebrow,"You, my team, are afraid to go down a cave? I assure you that every reaper had come down here and never died-"
"Will, he's Executioner, the name is a given to what he does!" Grell cried out, but then Executioner kicked him down the stairs, sending him screaming to high Heaven; William sidled to the side and allowed Grell to pass by, comically allowing him to roll down the steps. The Supervisor looked at Eric.
"Do you want to be next?"
Eric grumbled and walked down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness. Undertaker looked over at Ivan, he fallowed when he heard the familiar whines of his horses. It was quiet between William Undertaker, and Executioner; William seemed to be unamused by him as the cloaked man approached him.
"Can't anyone in this Realm be serious?" William asked, he grabbed a hold of Executioner's headgear, tearing it away from his head to find a rather handsome looking face wisely staring back at him. William sighed and thrust the mask back to him. "Honestly." Executioner gave a warm smile and coughed as he placed the potato sack back to his head.
"Will, you know the man is shy about his face," Undertaker frowned as he closed the door behind him. The trio descended down the tunnel and came into a large chamber that housed Executioner's signature guillotine in the middle of it. A raised platform held two, large wooden posts that had a rope attached to the top, then an arch with a hook and a plank. Details were mangled on how death scythes were attached to the contraption, though the platform itself told its own stories through the bloodstained flooring.
Ivan stood in the far end of the chamber next to a pair of gates wielded to the wall, he and his horses were reunited and growing accustomed to the circumstances as Eric fallowed Grell. The blond's brows creased at the sight of a limb or two scattered on the platform.
"I heard he used to be an Officer," Eric started as he stared up in awe at the guillotine,"but his face scared away all the souls on the To Die List."
"Really? Lacey told me he kept killing off partners at the Academy," Grell suggested, but Undertaker breezed by, snickering,"That was William, little lamb."
"Alright, get in the cart if you want to leave this place, it's damned enough as it is! Hadn't seen a massacre like this since Gettysburg! Don't plannin' on seein' it again!" Ivan shouted as he clambered onto the cart, Eric and Grell nodded and ran after as William and Undertaker stood back. Undertaker spotted William and pushed him forward, nudging him to go with Grell. "Hurry it up! Damn, Slingby, open the gate!"
William eyed Executioner before going off, leaving the two elder reapers standing by the large guillotine. Undertaker took off his hat to dust it, he held to it loosely.
"If the Council were smart, they would have taken this passage to escape, right?"
Executioner nodded and fumbled through his lengthy cloak, he pulled out a Cinematic Record and offered it to Undertaker, who shook his head.
"Old friend, I doubt I would want to borrow at a time like this...why must you give it? Don't tell me you found Sylvestre's Records, it's be most useful and-"
The skeletal hand turned the book upright to show the spine of the cover. Undertaker squinted to see the faded letters as the book opened to reveal the last memory. A minute passed, then he dropped his hat, his mouth opened to let out a wail as he fell to his knees before Executioner. His cry rang throughout the hallow chamber while his slender fingers and sharp nails pierced into the man's cloak, threatening to rip it from the bodice.
"Damn it, we don't have time for this! Eric, get him!" William barked, Eric nodded and released the gate's handles; the iron metalwork flew out of its embedded place in the wall in order to open a way into the world of humans. Alan slept soundly in Grell's lap, though Grell turned to see Eric rushing to Undertaker and dragging him off the platform; the silver haired reaper was reluctant, even clinging to the cloak in desperation as he cried out even harder.
Undertaker reached out and snatched the book from the hand of Executioner as he was escorted to the cart. Tears streaked his pale cheeks as he dropped the book onto Alan's chest. Grell offered a hand to help the Elder up into the cart as his sorrowful wails continued. William glanced over at Executioner, who gave a wave of goodbye, as Ivan snapped the reins, spurring his horses to drive the cart. Undertaker sobbed atop a stack of crates, his hat forever gone from his head as they transitioned from the Realm of the Death Gods to the Ream of Humans.
It went black for a good minute or so until they emerged into a green, open pasture. The cart wheeled in between two trees that were similar to the pillars that held the iron gates in the Execution Circle. Undertaker continued to mourn at whatever the book held as the horses snorted and trotted down a dirt road in the field.
Blue skies and clouds, green grass and its colorful flowers, it all contrasted to what they were previously in. Ivan drove his horses to trot even faster, whipping them on occasion as they journeyed through the open field.
After a long silent exchange of unsure glances, Eric broke the ice,"Who's Record's that?"
Grell, being the closest to Alan, reached over and held the Cinematic Record. "...it's Richardson's-"
"He died by your hand," Undertaker choked out, then, in a fit of rage, pushed William off the cart. Ivan pulled the breaks as Undertaker had that murderous gleam in his eye, ready to slaughter the man who he found was responsible for Raoul's existence. The hat-less reaper jumped out of the cart and pounced the unguarded man on the ground, his fingers wrapped around his neck and he began to squeeze and violently shake William. Grell was about to jump out and help but then Eric held an arm out to stop him.
"He died my your hand!" Undertaker screeched.
"Let him take care of it...those two need to get the tension out of each other..."
Grell winced at every word Undertaker spat in his anger, every time Undertaker pounded William into the ground, a word came out of the Elder's mouth,"HE...DIED...BY...YOUR...HAND!"
"'Guh!" William spluttered out.
"HE...DIED..."
"But...Eric, I saw him-"
"KAH!"
"Raoul...I saw Raoul in the Library..."
"...BY...YOUR..."
"...so..."
"HAND!"
Eric raised a brow, it made sense that Undertaker was making a sudden accusation against William.
"...if I distracted him, maybe Richardson wouldn't have died...Eric, it's not Will's fault Richardson's gone!" Grell protested, he wanted to get out but then Eric shook his head, he said,"Grell, you don't now half the story..."
"Yeah, neither do I," Ivan snorted as he turned half way in his seat to watch the beaten of William. Undertaker continued to throttle him to the ground, he showed no signs of stopping. "I'm not complanin'...we got enough time here, no one's comin' after us."
"You see," Eric began as William was strangled,"Raoul is William's own blood, they're related."
A/N: I noticed that I'm considerably loosing a large amount of reviewers and viewers. I fear I'm loosing (or already lost) popularity due to my absence. Life gets in the way, I will edit past chapters to make it more suitable for readers. But really, c'mon, review? Just a little bit? I will keep the story going though for all your lurkers out there! And Samantha died! Haha, notice her soul wasn't collected. O.o
On another note, take notice of Heather. She was kidnapped two years prior to the events of this story. In the chapter "Precious Memories II", the memory sequence took place twenty years ago Heather was a little girl. In my fan fic, it takes about two decades for reapers to mature fully and to go through the Academy. Lifespan of reapers take longer to age really.
READ & REVIEW!
