Doctor Pearson was admittedly in a bit of a state despite her apparent ordinary behaviour. She went to her classes, tended to her students, graded their work, put together lessons, all while wrapping up with the various research teams that were making use of her services. All the while, she ignored the pitying looks of her coworkers. She knew what they were thinking. "Poor thing." She could see it on their faces with the added sting of her failure being seen as "proof" by some of them that this sort of hysteria is simply what one gets when one allows women to work in the sciences.
This would be her last semester at this university. She was taken completely off-gaurd as it happened so suddenly and she was certain that surely she had more protections than this, but fighting it might only harm her, given her reputation. That combined with the fact that the book was now gone, what proof of her competency could she offer?
Needless to say, her mind was busy with both work and figuring out what she was going to do next. She applied to a few other universities, but many of them were less prestigious and meant that she and her family would have to move. Her reputation had suffered immensely and she only had a short amount of time to sort things out before she ran the risk of having to leave academia entirely.
On this day she was sitting her office, trying to get some work done so that her students ultimately wouldn't suffer in the fallout of this. It wasn't their fault, after all. She would have to ponder how exactly she was going to move all of her personal belongings out of this room at a later date because she had quizzes to grade and some of them were indicative of her students still struggling to understand the basics of forensic science. At the same time, she tried her best to remind herself.
First thing was first: Books didn't heal. No matter what she thought she saw, there was no way that she did. It was a fluke; a trick of the eyes. No matter what evidence that she thought that she had, the entirety of the immediate scientific community could not be wrong and now she was learning that the hard way. Unfortunately for her denial did not mean that there were not still shadows stalking the halls.
With a knock at the door, she startled, flinching in her chair at the sudden noise. Just as quickly as it happened, however, she recovered, letting out a breath. "Come in." she said, not even paying attention as the door slowly creaked open. She heard the shuffling of feet and the thud of a bookbag hitting the floor as it was set down. The chair in front of her desk loudly scooted across the floor and her guest had already sat in it by the time she looked up.
Now, the courses that the woman taught normally involved laboratory settings where she needed to be aware of what her students were up to at all times. They were somewhat intimate settings, so even if she might have struggled to match a face to a name every so often, she definitely knew one of her students when she saw them. Thus when she laid eyes on the young man in front of her, she was confused as she was able to recognise that she had absolutely no idea who this person was from the moment she glanced up.
He was a pretty man with somewhat feminine features and painted black fingernails. He was a pale chap from his skin to his hair, but the most striking part of that was his very sharp, icy, blue eyes. The way his lips curled into a smile reminded her of a cat. It was like he knew something that she didn't from the get go, so combining that with the fact that she didn't know him set off alarm bells. He was suspicious. Very suspicious. So suspicious that she really didn't think that she ought to waste time entertaining him, but if she was going to brush him off, she needed to do so professionally.
"Hello, how can I help you?" First, she would pretend that she still recognised him. It would be rude of her not to.
"Yeah, I need a little help with the research I'm doing." the man smiled with an apologetic look. "I've tried looking everywhere I can think of, but it's like I've hit a wall! I was hoping you could help me."
"Oh, alright, then." Maybe he was actually in one of her classes? "Remind me what your project is? I'm sorry, but it must've slipped my mind. I'd be happy to help you find more ways to find resources!"
"Thanks! You're a life saver! I just didn't know who else I could ask." Reaching down into the floor, the blonde opened his bag and pulled out a manila folder. Placing it on the table, he opened it up, revealing the photographs the woman had taken of the book that ruined her career. "I want you to tell me what you know about this book."
He might as well have whacked her upside the head with it. Doctor Pearson's mouth opened as she looked down at the photos on the table. Then, her brows furrowed. There was no point in courtesy now. He clearly didn't deserve it.
"Just what do you think you're trying to pull?" she snarled. Standing up, she harshly pointed toward the door. "I didn't think you were one of my students and clearly, you're just here to start trouble. You need to leave."
"Sorry about this. I know what this looks like, but I'm afraid I can't do that." the menace said, reaching into the leather jacket he was wearing and pulling out an ID badge. "I'm Jim Phantomhive, a representative of the HELLSING Organisation. I'm not trying to hassle you or put your career in jeopardy, or anything. I'm just here to learn more about the book so I can gauge it's relevancy to the Keaton family incident."
"The what organisation?" Doctor Pearson narrowed her eyes. "I've never heard of it. I've already told what I know to the police and I'm not interested in some random, whatever groups trying to cash in on it. He's a human being, for God's sake!"
"'Her Royal England Legions of Legitimate Supernatural and Immortal Night Guard', or 'HELLSING,' for short. We manage all supernatural beings in the United Kingdom, investigate potential incidents, and take them out, if necessary."
"You're joking… So you're a vampire hunter, is it? You're going to prance around with holy water and stake Robert's killer?"
"I mean, I don't think this is really in line with a vampire attack, but if it turns out to be one, then yeah."
"You're sick." the Doctor hissed. "You're a sick man and I want no part of your disgusting pranks. Get out of my office before I call campus security."
"Yeah, I thought you'd say that, but I figured being honest was the best approach. You're a scientist, so you need evidence. I get that. Love that. Support that. Anyway, I figured you'd need some proof, so…"
Trailing off, the menace held out his hand to the woman, causing her to step back. She was understandably cautious, as he sat between her and the door. For the first time, she noticed that his fingernails were black—a trait she didn't think any kind of organisational operative would have and a trait somewhat uncommon for men in general. Then, she saw something trailing off of his fingertips. It was thin and floating, like snapped spiderweb dangling in the breeze. Emily squinted to see it, but then it grew more dense. The threads unraveled from his fingertips one by one until it created a black flame.
With a yelp, Doctor Pearson put her hands up in front of her and stepped away from the man, pressing her back against the shelf behind her. Was he mad?! Was he trying to light the entire building on fire?! Once the initial shock of that wore off, her mind caught up with the fact that the flame was black, causing her to observe it again. The way that it did not radiate light and in fact, seemed to swallow the light around it was extraordinary. It wasn't her area of expertise, but she had never even heard of something like that before. Then, the fire began to deflate again, causing her hands to lower and where it was previously in the blonde's hand, he held out a card, offering it to the woman.
"Here's the number to call if you have any further questions or incidents to report." he finally said, pausing for a moment as he waited for the woman to respond. When she didn't, he merely continued. "I'll just put it on the table…"
"What was that?" she breathed. "Fire just came out of your hand… And it was black… And it… What was that?"
"Sorry for the theatrics, but I wasn't sure how else to convince you. Those are my diabolical threads. They're part of me. I can weave things into them like the card just now and bring them out later."
"You're… Wait… What is-?" Taking a deep breath, the woman sat down again, leaning her elbows on the desk and placing her hands together. She didn't really think she was ever going to be sufficiently calm to deal with this, but knew that she couldn't just sit there, either. "So, hypothetically speaking… God, I feel like I am absolutely losing it… What, pray tell, does your organisation do?"
"Lots of things. We manage peaceful communities of supernaturals, keep them hidden from the general human populace, and keep said human populace safe from otherworldly threats that they just can't handle."
"And they sent a twenty-something year old to do all of that because?"
"Well, it is a university and there are lots of people my age walking around, so it's not really suspicious for me to be here. Second of all, I'm the guy with a contact at Scotland Yard feeding me information about this case, which is more than quite a few of my coworkers have. But more importantly, I'm an expert in both the investigation side of things and extermination. So, if my contact is correct and there really is some supernatural nonsense afoot, then I can take care of it. That's where you come in, of course." Jim replied, firing fingerguns at the woman seated across from him.
"You want me to tell you about the book, don't you?" the doctor's tone was monotonous as she filled in the blank.
"Exactamundo, doc. I have my reasons to believe that we might be dealing with something in my jurisdiction, here. These pictures of yours might be the thing that proves it." Instead of an eager response, the menace received a sigh as the woman crossed her arms in front of her. She averted her eyes, very clearly not wanting to discuss it. "What did you see, Doctor Pearson?"
"I…" Emily hesitated, averting her eyes. Her arms were in front of her on the desk, acting as a barrier between them. "I don't know what I saw… That's even if I saw anything at all. My colleagues are right. None of that could possibly happen. It would be ridiculous to believe otherwise."
"Listen, I get it: You're a scientist. You believe in science and objective fact and this sort of thing doesn't line up with that. I mean, magic and all that? It's just flights of fancy, right? Nevermind that you saw it with your own eyes." the menace replied, pointing at her face with two fingers. "Forget about all that other crap for a second. It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that something's out there, murdering whole families, and you're the only person I can talk to who knows something."
"What about the daughter. She survived, didn't she?"
"Yes, but she's completely mute. She's a little kid who saw her parents die. She's gonna be messed up for a while, so you're the only witness I've got."
Still, the woman said nothing. She obviously didn't want to talk. Even if she did believe the menace, she had what remained of her reputation to consider.
"We have it, you know." Jim continued. "The book."
"What?" the woman questioned, finally looking up. "You do? What happened to it?"
"Well, going over security footage, it seems like Professor Keaton would've been caught be police eventually. His daughter ended up with it because he took it from the lab. Right now, the police have it. It's locked up in some evidence room somewhere."
"He did-? I… Jesus Christ, Robert…" Reaching up, the Doctor pinched between her eyebrows. "That thing… It's a menace. There really is something not right about it."
"Like the healing?"
"Yes." Finally looking at him, the woman maintained her distance, but was at least answering him. "When I cut off a sample to run DNA tests on, it acted like a wound. It didn't bleed or anything, but over the course of a few days, it formed a scab and 'healed' itself. It was a little red in the spot for a while, but eventually it was good as new. Admittedly, I kept it a bit longer than I should have to test it a few more times. I cut it again in another place and it acted the same. It was like it was drawing me in, somehow. I wanted to hang onto it. Eventually, Robert wanted the book back and I was forced to give it up. I mentioned what I found to him, but like the others, he understandably brushed me off. I never saw it again after that."
"His students said he began acting strangely after that." Jim presented, rubbing his chin. "Do you think that's connected?"
"I don't know. It could be. Admittedly, I was starting to become a little obsessed, but then after I gave it back to him, it went away. It's like it never happened. Well, except now my colleagues think I've gone batty…"
The menace stopped talking. It surprised the doctor that he was capable of it. Instead of making some remark or hounding her with another barrage of inquiries, he sat there, clearly pondering that.
"Is… That a cause for concern, or..?" the woman continued, breaking his concentration.
"No clue. Could be, if that's a pattern. I mean, it doesn't make much sense that someone like Professor Keaton would steal a book he was studying, especially in such a visible way. Unless, there's another reason…"
"He wouldn't have stolen it to sell, if that's what you're getting at."
"No, the police have already looked into it. No debts, save for a car payment." Jim replied. "But even that's not significant enough to warrant theft of an artifact from work." Leaning his elbows on the desk, he rested his chin in his palm and carried on casually. It was hardly the behaviour of a detective, but with the overall strangeness of the situation, his silly gestures somehow made the woman feel more at ease. "So let's say there is some sort of mania affiliated with the book. From your experience, is it strong enough to do something like that? Make a person who is by all stretches of the imagination an ordinary, law-abiding citizen, break the law and engage in deviant behaviour like that?"
"N…" Doctor Pearson's immediate instinct was to say "no." Of course it wasn't. After all, she got out without engaging in theft, but the more she thought about it, the less sure she felt. If that was indeed true and she didn't engage in any abnormal behaviour, then why was she in the situation she was in now? Why did she feel so attached to this book that she was willing to risk her career by making outrageous and impossible claims about it? A book that heals? Please. If one were to bring up the possibility to her again and she hadn't been there to see it, she would believe the images were fake as well. And yet, here she was: On the cusp of the end of her employment with this university, with her toes touching the edge of unemployment. At the end of the semester, she would reach the end of the plank and be plunged right in.
"Maybe…" she relented. "I… I don't think telling everyone a book heals is exactly 'normal.' Even if it did and I saw it, I'm pretty sure that I would probably be able to keep that to myself for my career's sake if I had to do it over. It's like the mania just switched targets, I guess."
Her brows raised as she witnessed something flicker behind the blonde's eyes. It was a slight change in expression—so slight that it might've gone completely unnoticed had she not glanced up at them at that precise moment. She couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it didn't seem so bad. Then, the man broke his concentration by looking at his watch.
"Thank you, Doctor. I think I've got a few ideas on how to proceed, now." he said before pulling a small, handheld notebook out of his jacket pocket and clicking a pen. "What's a good contact number for you? Just in case I have more questions."
"That's it? You're leaving?"
"I have another prior engagement I need to get to, but you've really helped me out, here. As a token of my gratitude, that card is yours." the man stated, gesturing to the card he placed on the table. "Honestly, if you're looking for work, maybe you should try them. There's a lot of people like you who work for us, coming from a similar situation. It'd be a whole lot easier than still doing science stuff while pretending part of the natural world doesn't exist."
After trading numbers, the man stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. After that, he left the office, leaving the woman to ponder the card in her hand. The two of them parted ways with the whole world being ignorant to the things exchanged there. From the outside, it just looked like an ordinary meeting between student and professor. Jim shut the door behind him, turning his head to face the next student waiting out in the hall.
"Give her a minute. I caused a bit of a scene." he grinned before walking off. "I'm dropping out! Peace, nerds!"
Leaving his supposed "classmate" confused, he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed toward the door of the building. On the way, he passed by a janitor, mopping the linoleum tiles in the lobby. Pausing, he pulled out his phone, unlocking it but looking at nothing.
"It's done." he whispered. "Hang out here for another minute and then meet back at the rendezvous point. Thanks a lot, Sea-bass."
"Happy to have helped." the janitor replied. "Although, I must say, pretending to be a janitor for a fortnight wasn't really what I had in mind when I agreed to assist you."
"Your idea of being a professor would've been too hard to organise. As a janitor, I can plop you anywhere and nobody will notice. If you want to be fancy, go play with Ciel."
"Not at all." Sebastian said, straightening his back as he held the mop in his hand. Placing hand on his chest, he continued: "While I do feel it to be a bit undignified, if I couldn't even do this much, what kind of janitor would I be?"
"Eh, that one could use some work, mate." Casually, Jim placed his phone back in his pocket and started walking again. "Good try, though. See you later."
While he tried to keep his expression neutral for the security cameras, the menace couldn't help but crack a little bit of a smile. He could practically feel the butler rolling his eyes behind his back and it absolutely tickled him. At the same time, he knew that he could laugh about it later when they were both back to the car. The plan had changed slightly, though.
After the long trek across campus and the walk through the streets, the menace had finished ducking in and out of surveillance camera blind spots and made it back to the awaiting Rolls Royce. While Sebastian didn't ordinarily trust him with the keys to this particular cars or any of the other ones like it in the Phantomhive garage, it was cold enough out to warrant giving them to the baronet so that he could switch on the heater while he waited. Once safely behind tinted windows, the man uttered a sigh and kicked his bag over into the floor beneath the seat beside him in the back. Sebastian would be there soon and he knew it wouldn't be good for him to be loitering around in the driver's seat when he returned.
Once more, he pulled out his cellphone and unlocked it. This time, he actually used it as a phone instead of an excuse to stand in place, and rifled through his contacts. Once he was at the "J's" he tapped "Juniour" with his thumb and brought the device to his ear. It rang, and it rang, and it rang, going to voicemail on the first attempt. But, on the second, he actually got through just as the phone was on it's final ring.
"Are you fucking crazy?!" Michael hissed, prompting the blonde to pull the phone away from his face and glance at it for a moment. Well, he was sure he got the right person.
"'Hello' to you, too, Juniour." he said, but the detective was unimpressed.
"We agreed on written correspondence only during work hours. Written. Correspondence." the other man replied. "I was in the middle of my fucking office with the door wide open when you called. There were people outside! I'm hiding in a fucking bush outside because you can't follow procedure! This better be important!"
"It sure is, sunshine. Speaking of procedure: Where's the book?"
"The what? It's in the evidence room? Where else would it be? What does that have to do with the case?"
"Anybody in and out of there a lot?"
"Uhm, only everybody? It's the evidence room, after all."
"Shit." the menace muttered under his breath. Furrowing his brows, he thought for a moment, biting the tip of his thumb. "Make sure it's still actually there and do not, under any circumstance, touch it with your bare hands. If you absolutely need to, you're gonna wanna rub some salt or holy water on them first."
"What the bloody hell are you on about? What's wrong with it? Is it cursed?" questioned the detective, looking over at the Scotland Yard building. "Just what do we have stored here? Is it some more of your demonic bullshit?"
"No idea, but from what I've gathered is that it causes a degree of mania in people who are around it a lot. It seems strong enough to make people act asocial or just plain weird. Like I said: Do. Not. Touch. It. I don't know what it's deal is, yet, but I know I need to go see that girl."
"Who, now?" blinked the detective. The faces of those involved with the case cycled through his mind as he tried to think of it, only for his frown to deepen. "Jesus, Phantomhive, you don't mean..? She's only a little girl!"
"A little girl who knows something we don't and was one of the people to come into contact with that book on the night of the killings. Think about it: Why did she take the book with her when she ran away? That's what I want to know."
"She's just a messed up kid whose been through a lot… Her entire family was fucking killed for fuck's sake! Are you even trained to interrogate children?"
"Is there anyone trained to do that and handle supernatural nonsense?" Jim paused to listen to Michael's reply, but it never came. "That's what I thought. Send me the deets on where to find her. I want hospital, room number—everything. If she's already been put into foster care, give me the address as soon as possible. The sooner I can get a glimpse of her, the better. In the meantime, I want you to keep an eye on anybody who goes into that evidence room. If anybody lingers for too long or starts acting funny, let me know. If any shit starts going down, use the contact info Old Man Gabby gave you and contact HELLSING yourself. Don't hesitate. You don't need to worry about your job if that happens. We'll take care of it. Got all that?"
"I… Yeah… I—I think so..?" Michael replied. Letting out a sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple as if trying to get all of the information to seep into his brain. Then, suddenly, they snapped open. "Wait, you call my dad 'Gabby?'"
"Bye, Juniour." Abruptly, the menace hung up on the detective, just as Sebastian climbed into the driver's seat.
The butler had changed into his usual attire before his arrival. Now resuming his typical role, he shut the door and locked it before putting on his seatbelt. With a quick adjustment of the mirrors, he placed his gloved hands on the wheel and glanced at the rear view mirror to check on the blonde.
"Is there anywhere else you need to go, sir?" he questioned. "There's still time before you're scheduled to return home."
"Not at the moment, no. Give it a day or two and I might need your services again." answered the menace, peering down at his watch. "Besides, you need time to get dinner started. Unless, of course, you're planning on using the microwave."
"Sir," Placing a hand over his heart, the butler grimaced where the menace couldn't see. He peered ahead, squeezing his eyes shut tight as the disgust washed over him. "first the janitor disguise and now this… If I may speak freely, you are being particularly cruel as of late."
"Sorry, Sebastian. You're right. Maybe that was a bit far... I know how you feel about instant."
"The freezer section is an abomination that should be erased from existence." the older man muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Mankind has made leaps and bounds in the ways of science, but it is wasted on such tripe."
"Is it a bad time to mention that we're running low on ice cream at home?"
The sheer audacity of the question actually made Sebastian look over his shoulder, staring into the back seat. It had been a long time since the menace had seen him look so wounded. "I beg of you, Sir… Will homemade not suffice?"
"Depends… Can it be vanilla?"
"Of course."
"Then it shall suffice." dutifully nodded the blonde, seeming rather pleased with himself despite crossing his arms in front of him.
"Honestly…" With a sigh, the older man disengaged the parking brake and shifted the care into gear. "Are you always this difficult with the Earl?"
"Not at all. Actually, I'm more difficult."
Utterly defeated, Sebastian chose not to entertain that and instead pulled out onto the street. Despite being a rather fanciful car, it soon disappeared into London traffic as if it were never there in the first place. They disappeared from the university, leaving the consequences of their visit for another day.
A/N: Will I ever fix my updating schedule? Probably not, but I can have hope, can't I?
Honestly, I need to write for Sebastian more. He's just so hard to use in a serious context I think? He's OP with the emotional complexity of a potato. What the hell am I supposed to do about that but have him rant about butler stuff?
Anyway, I'm starting to rejuvenate my interest in the current arc. My problem is and always has been that if an arc takes long enough, I start thinking about the next arc instead of the thing I'm supposed to be writing, but we're getting there. I am resolving to sit down and do this.
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!