A/N: Thank you for all who reviewed! Also I'm not very good at writing dialects so I will just leave that to your imagination!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except "The Nightingale" and the future villain will also be mine! But the League and anything else is absolutely not mine! Except McCarthy...he's mine too.
And now my first fanfiction!
The Night of Broken Wings
The air of London alleys was full of the local putrid stench of raving drunks and homeless men sprawled out in their own waste on the cobble stone streets. Men stumbled from the nearby pub, only to land with a dull thud into the alleyway beside it, the bottles from the late night drinking rolling from their unconscious forms. Women walked the corners in hopes of earning their meal for the night and somewhere else to sleep other than the cold benches outside of local taverns and shops, or worse, spend a night in Grimes Galley, the small warehouse behind Drips Pub. Grimes Galley was one place no one wanted to stay for it was home to the lowest of the low in London's society, the assassins and high class thieves.
The moon shone down upon the alleyway leading to Grimes Galley and upon the lone figure walking toward the warehouse entrance. He was of medium built, talk, dark, and some would say handsome compared to the lowlifes of the street. He hid his face behind a white handkerchief, his face growing paler and paler than the moon itself. He inched his way past the sleeping drunks toward the entrance way. He tightened his gray coat around him, turning the collar up to hide his face from the prowling thieves. He finally reached the doorway and rapped lightly three times on the metal door. A gray panel a little over his eye level slid back and revealed two deep brown eyes, almost black.
"What your purpose 'ere?" The man blubbered in overly thick Cockney accent, his eyes staring the man up and down suspiciously.
"I…I have come to see…" The man faltered lightly, his eyes becoming as wide as saucer plates till finally he managed, "…the Nightingale." He dodged his eyes to the ground as if seeking reassurance there.
"Do you got the payment with ya?" The man's eyes seemed to become less intense since the man's proclamation.
"Ye…yes I do," stated the stranger, "my name is Jacob Vansen…I have a job for him." Jacob straightened up as the panel slid shut forcefully and the metal door swung open revealing the owner of the dark eyes. The man stood at more than six feet tall and fully body muscle, every inch of him.
"Follow me, and try to keep up," the man growled. Jacob quickly nodded and followed the beast of the man toward a flight of stairs.
The room they passed was fully of dark figures, either playing poker or enjoying a drink with some of the feminine company. Jacob covered his hand at the smell that met his nostrils, to him it was almost unbearable yet the man in front seemed to take no notice of it at all. He led Jacob up the rickety stairs leading toward their destination, the higher up they climbed, the less and less people there were and the darker the halls seemed to become.
"'Ere," the man stated simply, pointing to an ornately carved oaken door. Jacob was shaking and now whiter than ever. His head bobbed up and down in a nervous nod as he entered the room slowly.
There was a black marble fireplace set at the very back of the room, a small fire blazing merrily from it. The room was cast in only shadow and the light the fire gave around the room, giving almost a hellish tint to it. Jacob's Adam's apple jerked up and down as he gulped nervously, staring around the room. In the corner there was a dark mahogany desk with a black armchair stationed behind it. Jacob saw a pale figure rise from the chair, his entire face in the shadows, and start walking toward the fire. From the outline, Jacob could tell the man was young, his strong profile showed he was a man of at least thirty years with long hair tied back with a small black band. He wore a black suit, like any normal business men, but his true business was far from the norm. Jacob stood tall, trying to portray the dominant figure yet failing miserably.
"You're the Nightingale I presume?" Jacob said in a quavering voice. The man chuckled dryly that sent chills up Jacob's spine.
"You are mistaken, sir," the man replied surprisingly with a thick Irish dialect. "I am McCarthy, Mr. McCarthy to you. I am Nightingale's personal body guard." Jacob tensed and took a step forward, "I was told I was to meet with Nightingale himself, not one of his underlings!" Jacob was suddenly floored as the man turned and charged with one clean foot to his chest and whipped out one silver dagger, pressing it on Jacob's throat. Jacob laid there winded, looking into his attackers face, one white scar from the bottom of his ear lobe and ending at the front of his neck. "I wouldn't be taken that tone with me sir, or you might be finding yourself in a bit of trouble. Now I'm a gonna let you up now and your going to be the gentleman you are and tell me what you need done, then Nightingale will take care of it personally." McCarthy stood up slowly and replaced the dagger back in its case, hidden in a small pocket near the back of his jacket.
Jacob stood from the floor, panting slightly with sweat dripping from his head down his face and spoke in a trembling voice, "I…I need someone…done away with. Mind you…I'd…I'd do it myself, but the man is just too powerful." Jacob quickly dove into his pocket and pulled out a wad of one hundred pound notes. "I do have money…Here…take it all…just put this man away." Jacob stood there shaking from fear and from the burden he felt was lifted from his chest. McCarthy took the notes and slowly started counting them, "A thousand pounds? Who are you expecting us to kill? Her majesty?" McCarthy laughed his harsh laugh and placed the money in a small drawer in the center of the desk.
"No…it's my boss, Michael Hale…He…he threatens to kill me at least every day I work…and…he sends me as the guinea pig for drop-offs so that I will be caught and not him. He finally promised me a promotion…Now he says he likes having his 'pet' to run around for him and that I can forget his promotion. Blast it all I want him dead! And sent to the depths of hell from which he sprang!" Jacob during his speech had become red and gripped his hands so tight blood began to form in his fist.
McCarthy looked solemn and nodded, "Hale, the biggest opium dealer this side of Europe? Hmmm…alright, Nightingale will be pleased, but there is one problem…" Jacob looked toward him, confusion plastered on his face, "What would be the problem?"
The figure moved quickly and silently, bringing one silver dagger across the throat of Jacob, the confusion still appeared on his face as his life began to ebb away into utter darkness. The black cloaked figure stood towering above him, it's face masked by a black bandana, and its eyes hidden by dark glasses. It was the last thing Jacob ever saw as McCarthy spoke the last sentence he would ever hear.
"…Sadly, Hale paid us two thousand to get rid of you first." McCarthy laughed as the figure silently cleaned off the infamous dagger used to kill so many double dealers, mob bosses, and smugglers. "Ahhh, Nightingale, you had me worried for a minute, you know I can never tell where you are." He smiled toward the figure as it sheathed its blade.
"Just always assume I'm in the shadows. Still have the money?" Nightingale's voice sounded light and almost merry.
"Here it is." McCarthy held up the notes.
"Good, I took care of Hale on my way here." Nightingale laughed mercilessly, "That bastard was the main cause of death for all the homeless teens on the street. Too bad Jacob here wasn't in it for the good of the community, eh McCarthy?" McCarthy was grim and went to the fire, slowly rubbing his temples. " That man was not only the cause of their deaths but my sons as well, damn opium dealers should all burn in the firey pits of hell from whence they came. I hope the bastards rot."
Nightingale turned and placed a hand on McCarthy's shoulder nodding in silent agreement. "Well what's done is done and I can assure you that the two of them are burning before the devil himself, we have other things to worry about, now McCarthy, has London's guard not yet got wind of me?" Nightingale's voice showed the smile on its face as McCarthy helped Nightingale remove his coat, revealing the doble edged, seven inch silver daggers lining the black belt of the assassin. Eight exactally the same length and weight, balanced for throwing with a keen point and black leather hilt, topped with and pommel stone only and inch in volume.
McCarthy placed the coat on the edge of the desk as Nightingale sat in the mahogany desk, feet propped up comfortably. McCarthy leaned and pulled that mornings paper from another drawer in the desk, the whole front page filled with the reports of Nightingale.
The Nightingale's end
For years London's streets have been plagued by the murderer and thief commonly known as Nightingale. Now is the final act that leads to the most drastic maneuver on Her Majesty's part. The Queen has been told that now, a select force will be used to stop this assassin at all cost. Little is known about the force, only that they will put an end to Nightingale's crime spree…
Nightingale stopped reading and threw the paper a side, Nightingale was a vigilante, not a common murderer. And now the Queen had been convinced that the killings had to stop before someone innocent was caught in the mix. Nightingale stared at the article again, gripped it and threw it forcefully into the fire and slowly smiled, turning toward the fire and staring hard into what was left of the burning article.
"No worries, if they desire a killer, then they shall receive a killer..." McCarthy shuddered as his master spoke toward the fire, the flames reflecting the hellish glow in Nightingale's dark glasses. Nightingale suddenly turned, one hand playing with the edge of one of the silver daggers.
"Now send for this mess to be cleaned up, it's beginning to stink and we will be expecting company." McCarthy bowed and left to send for a clean up crew, his master now back staring into the flames.
"Now the game gets interesting..."
A/N: Alright! First chapter done!!!! I know it's really slow but the next one will be with the League I promise! Please read and review and flames welcome! Just be gentle!