"I'm very glad you're here with me tonight, doll."

"Thank you, sir." He swallowed, fiddling with something behind his back. "It's an honor, as always, sir." Tonight.

"Tonight," the first man sat in his chair, wheeling around to face the array of screens behind him, "you pull off the highest paying job I've ever been offered."

"Yes, sir."

"How many victims?"

"Seventy-three precisely, sir."

"How many gallons of blood will that be?"

He shuddered, clammy hands struggling to keep the item quiet. "One- one hundred nine point five gallons approximately, sir."

"Give me precision, sweetheart."

"I-" How hard it was to breathe. Knowing you're about to do something awful really affects you, hm? Calm down, in and out, in and out. "Uhm- uh- I can't say precisely. The... the amount of blood in the human body varies depending on the person, you see, from 1.2 to 1.5 gallons. Assuming they all have 1.5, your answer would be one hundred nine point five. Er- sir."

A sigh, "Very well. Just be sure to spill it all."

"Yes, sir."

He sat back in his chair, tapping his foot and watching everyone dine. What a pleasure this was. They'd all be dead soon, at his angel's hand. Look at them. Smug faces, laughing and enjoying each other's company. It made him sick. It was repulsive. They were living stacks of money to the man, and if money was alive, it'd walk away of its own free will- then it would be of no use to him. But dead money? You could do anything with dead money. Tear it up, spend it, wave it in people's faces. Money was supposed to be dead, not alive. Dead bodies meant cold, hard cash. And he wanted it.

But the other one didn't.

"Baby, sit on my lap."

"No, sir."

"Pardon me?"

"I meant yes, sir. But please wait, I have a- I have a surprise I'd like to give you, sir."

"You do? What's the occasion?"

"Do you not remember what you said earlier, sir? It's our highest paying job, sir. It calls for celebration, I think, sir."

"Hm..." The man in the chair thought about it for a moment, the ring on the tentative finger that tapped his lip shone in the camera light. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," the other's shaky mouth snaked its way into a sort of smirk, "I can't just tell you. But, it is something I've wanted for a long time. Something... very special. To me, anyway. I'd appreciate it if you let me have it."

"You're supposed to say sir after every sentence," his voice was curt and snarly, irate. "And how is this a surprise for me, if it's something you've wanted?"

"Oh, because I think you'll be impressed with how I get it."

"My name. End of every sentence. I'm warning you, princess, if you don't use it, I'll use your back as a cutting board." He was dead serious. "This- surprise, it sounds like you don't have it. And let me tell you right now, you won't be getting it. Now enough games. Tell me what it is. Now."

"Yes, sir."

Chik-chik.

Alois Trancy pulled the gun from behind his back and pointed it directly at the man's head, his face in a wicked grin.

"Surpriiiise."

POOM!

It all seemed to happen in slow motion.

The bullet's flight through the air lasted a mere .5 seconds, but it felt like eons to the blond. He watched gleefully as it rammed right into the man's heart, blood spurting from the wound instantaneously. The look of pure terror and shock on his tormenter's face was sickeningly delightful to Alois, and even more so was the way that his eyes, previously dark and stabbing, slowly lost their light. It was as if the life was sucked right out of them, a white film being placed over the orbs that had caused the assassin such trouble for so long.

In truth, he was all too happy to watch him die, to watch the blood ooze out of him until so much had drained that there was absolutely no saving him. It served him right. Three straight years of tomfoolery and deprecation finally ended, and the cause of it all lying helpless at his feet.

The bastard's death had sparked something in his killer. Bloodlust, perhaps? He turned his head to the several screens showcasing the dinner guests, eyeing each and every one of their faces. They were each worth a lot of money. Actors, directors, businessmen, entrepreneurs, inheritors... This job would pay well. He may as well complete it, start himself off with a couple hundred thousand. That would be enough for now.

~oOo~

Ciel was positive he had broken at least 6 road laws as he sped to the casino. He'd nearly killed himself by coming close to crashing a few times, he'd ran some red lights (which would be excused since his sirens were on), and he'd practically emptied his gas tank going 93 miles per hour. All highly, highly illegal things to do, by the way. But it was justified in the bluenet's mind. He'd be jailing, possibly even killing someone who had done things that were so much worse. It was worth it.

Despite all his efforts, he was still late, fifteen minutes late to be exact. Even though other teams had surely been dispatched, Ciel's vehicle was the only one of law enforcement. He was joined moments later, though, by a squad of police cars. Thank god.

Michaelis was among them. Armed with the silver pistol that he affectionately dubbed Rachel, he approached his fellow detective and gave a nod. "You know who's in there?"

"Yes."

"Show loverboy what's in store for him, then," the black haired man gripped Ciel's shoulder and gave it a good shake, which made the latter scowl and huff.

"Oh, shut up, don't call him that. I'm just going to do my job," he breathed.

I'm killing him.

Michaelis frowned, gave him a long and hard stare that bore right into the detective's heart. Somehow he knew what Ciel meant; he'd always been able to tell ever since he joined the force. The bluenet hated it. He was the only person who could see right through him.

With a squeeze on the same shoulder that had Ciel hiss through his teeth, Sebastian looked him dead in the eyes. "Right. Your job. Nothing more, nothing less. Don't even think about-"

"What, 'don't even think about' what? You think I'm going in there on a murder mission?"

"No. But it's obvious you're not going in there with clean intentions."

"To you maybe. No one else knows what I've done."

Sebastian sighed, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. "One of these days you'll listen to reason, maybe," the man started off.

Ciel was just insulted. He'd basically been called a child. What the hell was that supposed to mean, "One of these days you'll listen to reason"?! Heated, he retorted, "I'll listen to my voice of reason, alright? It's gotten me further in this life than yours has gotten you!"

He regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, but it was too late. Michaelis stopped in his tracks, his body tense. Ciel suddenly feared for his safety.

But nothing. The other kept walking.

Shit.

The doors to the building were at last burst open, and the sound of a gunshot rang through the air.

A single body hit the ground, joining the seventy two other bloody ones already there. In the midst of all the gore was a tall, slender boy. Pale skin and even paler hair made his identity clear as day in the low lighting of the casino.

Alois Trancy. Ciel felt the joints in his jaw become stiff.

The blond had seen the incoming police. Before the detective could even announce that he needed to freeze, he shot a grappling hook to the chandelier and took to the ceiling, firing at the group. No one was pleased, and since he was now technically resisting arrest and attempting to assault officers, the men on the ground shot at their moving target.

Alois glided across the magnificent thing, his feet always seeming to land on exactly the right spot. It almost looked like a dance, Ciel noted, the way he'd sway and spin, then ease into a jump and start shooting away. He even got so cocky as to use the chain of the chandelier to get better aim, showcasing his flexible back and his impressive eye for violence.

A stifled cry in pain was loud in the hall, a body crumpling to the floor behind the bluenet. Someone had been shot. The danger of the situation became more evident to him, the fact that he was like a sitting duck in front of an extremely lethal and experienced assassin. Someone else fell to the ground, and this time Alois had the audacity to laugh.

Another. And another. And another. It was brutal, screams of friends and others alike were banging on his eardrums, forcing him to gaze upon the bloodbath that befell the establishment. Familiar faces were mangled, limbs were detached from one another, expressions of terror permanently etched into the victims of Menace.

Dammit, that was it! Ciel whipped out his own pistol and opened fire, aiming to kill. He missed every time, but his futile attempt caught the gunman's eye.

Oh, son of a fucking bitch.

Alois saw his one night stand. Even on the ground while the blond was suspended in the air, Ciel saw the wicked nature of the grin that spread across his lips, saw the way his eyes lit up so brilliantly. He seemed to say something, but Detective Phantomhive didn't hear him.

He had to wipe that horrid, horrid smile off of that sick beauty's face.

His hand raised on its own after an idea suddenly spilled into his head, pointing the gun above Alois' head. One may ask- why above? Isn't his goal to kill him? Why would he want to miss? Well, here's the thing; he wasn't missing.

No, while his other companions were aiming blindly instead of really focusing, Ciel had cooked up a plot to bring Menace to his knees. He didn't have to die, not now anyway, but maybe he could suffer and wait for his death instead. That would truly be painful.

So, Ciel fired. "Get back!" He called to everyone but the kill-for-hire, wanting to spare as many lives as he could. The bullet's flight ended in the chain of the chandelier, severing it from the roof. Alois' look of horror was priceless.

Down, down, down fell the blond, reaching and clawing for the metal as if that would do him any good. But then, he surprised the detective. He kicked the base of the light fixture, and that had sent him soaring ways away from the shattering glass.

"Unf!" Alois had landed feet away from the man who had shot his platform down with a grunt, glacier-like eyes shut in peace. He was unmoving.

No, had he killed him? That wasn't the plan, dammit, he thought to himself, dropping to the floor to check his vitals. Alois was absolutely unconscious, there was no questioning that. Which was good. But if he was dead, that would throw the plan completely off balance. He needed him alive.

Pressing his head to the man's chest and holding his thin, milk white wrist, he checked for any signs of life from the assassin. It took a moment or two, but he could hear and feel a heartbeat, and the blond's chest was rising shallowly, but surely. He was fine.

The detective stood. "He's alive. Take him to my car," he looked at Michaelis and gestured to move with the slight tilt of his neck. "We can try him, get him incarcerated for second-degree murder. He may even be given the death sentence. That'll serve him right, don't you think?" Ciel looked down at his foe as he spoke, clenching his fists. He hoped that maybe Alois could hear him just a little bit, comprehend how his life would soon be changing for the worse.

No one around the bluenet moved. His head jolted up, looking around at his group. "Go on, then. Investigate the scene, get home to your families. And get the others on some stretchers, of course." He ordered, turning on his heel and snapping to motion for Sebastian to follow him.

Justice seemed to be on his side tonight.