"You were right to bring this here, Mister Phantomhive." said Miranda, carefully holding the ring behind a magnifying glass with a pair of tongs. "This is a diabolical object."

"That explains the ominous energy coming off of it." the menace replied, leaning a hand on the back of her chair while planting the other on his hip. He stared at the plain-looking ring rather intently. "I'd ask how such a tiny thing could be so deadly, but I kill people with bullets for a living, so I shouldn't be surprised."

"That's sort of the idea." With that, Miranda stood up, forcing the other to straighten his back before very carefully putting it inside of a box with a lock on it. "It looks innocent enough, but if my knowledge of supernatural and diabolical objects is correct, this is The Ring of Hilarion."

"Sounds hilarious."

"More like 'nefarious'. The ring does exactly what you suspected. Anyone who puts it on will dance themselves to death! It only comes off when the person or tissue its attached to is dead."

"That's why it came off when Juniour's finger did..." the man said, rubbing his chin. Shaking his head, he let out a long sigh as guilt ran through him. "God… I hope his dad can forgive me… I couldn't think of another way to get it off..."

"You did the right thing." Miranda told him. "I'm actually impressed that you figured it out that fast. There really isn't any other way to take off the ring once it's on, so you saved his life."

"An alive son with nine fingers is better than a dead one with ten, I guess, but still..." Alois trailed off, looking down. He did feel guilty, but more importantly, worried about what former detective Gabriel Bailey would think of him maiming his child. It was a really risky move, in hindsight. The blonde was extremely lucky that his hunch was correct, especially since if he was wrong, Michael would be both dead and would have had his finger amputated for no real reason.

"It still doesn't seem like a very nice thing to do, does it?" the woman caught on. "You and Ciel are very good at making decisions like that, though. Most people would freeze, but you still looked at the situation with your own form of logic. That's why you're so good at your job, isn't it?"

"I guess? Mostly, I think it's because I'm a good bullet-sponge."

"Well… That's one way of looking at it..." To that, she seemed a bit concerned about the nonchalance to his speech and tone, but knew that the man was unusual, so she inevitably brushed it aside. "You said there were more victims, didn't you? Did none of them think of it?"

"There were three. I already sent off the information to Investigations." the Phantomhive replied. "The first was some wealthy guy, the second was his son shortly after the funeral, and after that, was the first guy's daughter. All of them danced themselves to death. The old man died from a heart attack from all of the activity and the two siblings died from exhaustion. They apparently passed down the ring and it killed the lot. I dunno where they got it. That's for Intel to figure out, though. I'm not on this case."

"Good God..." Miss Ackerman gawked. "Think of all of the muscles they pulled and had to keep dancing with. They probably tore a tendon or two… Anyway, the thing that gets me is how did the police get the ring after all of that?"

"They thought all that was suspicious, and Juniour apparently thought there was some supernatural bullshit afoot. He noticed the ring on all three bodies, so he took it to figure out what it was."

"Well, he couldn't possibly know what it was, so who can blame him? In fact, if you hadn't told me the story and told me about the energy you sensed, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between this and an ordinary ring, myself."

"Huh." The blonde let out a noise both in acknowledgment and to express that he was thinking further.

"What is it?" inquired Miranda.

"I've started to completely forget that humans can't sense that stuff." the man said. "You're missing this entire sense and it's gotten so normal to me that I can't really wrap my head around not having it?"

"Perception affects your relation with reality itself, so the way you experience the world is fundamentally different to that of practically every human being. That is, of course, not counting psychics, who can sometimes possess a weaker sixth sense."

"I know all about that shit, Miranda. Trust me."

"I know you do. Are you going to go talk to Dame Hellsing, now?"

"If she's not too busy to see me. This might be related to her case, though, so she might want to talk. Guess I'll take my leave, then?"

"This place is going to get a bit busy in a few minutes when the people get down here to transport this thing somewhere safe, so that might be a good idea."

"Laters, then. See you next appointment." Alois waved off while walking toward the door. The woman wished him farewell in turn and waved back at him. From there, he made the trip down the hallway in order to find his in-law and talk with her about current affairs.

When he spoke to her, she thanked him profusely for his find, as both she and the Intelligence Department whole-heartedly believed there was a connection. Immediately upon the Phantomhive's arrival at the base, she had start putting the gears into motion to acquire the first victim's computer and to search his house for any additional clues as to how he found and came into possession of such an object. It should be hard for ordinary people to even know of the existence of diabolical objects, but perhaps the victim was not "normal." Maybe he somehow had a connection or two. Elizabeth was determined to find out, either way.

"This is really bad." she told him, her face uncharacteristically serious. "Diabolical objects should never fall into the hands of anyone, let alone humans who don't know any better. I can't believe this is actually happening… I hope to God this can be contained before it becomes a serious issue."

"What happens then?" the menace inquired, watching as she rubbed her temples.

"Other angels could get involved. This is bad. Really bad. If it gets to the point where angels have to get involved, it might spell trouble if they start poking their noses around."

"Might not like the fact that you're buddies with demons, will they?" suggested Alois.

"They most definitely will not. I pray that they won't be hostile, but I can't make any garuntees." Elizabeth was stressed. Very stressed. She obviously wanted this to be over quickly. "I may need you after all, Jim. I'm sorry if that distracts from your own mission, but if I need you to handle this, then I need you to handle this..."

To that, Alois thought. It was easy for him to forget at times, but there were occasions where he remembered that his continued existence and symbiotic relationship with HELLSING depended on him doing as the organisation told him to. On the one hand, he despised the Pomeroys and hated the idea that they live each day he does not interfere with them. On the other, his life, livelihood, and family might be shaken up in the crossfire if things grew to be too much for the organisation to handle. In the end, his choice was obvious, as guilty as it made him feel.

"If the safety of the family is at stake, I'll do just about anything." he said, although not really enthusiastically.

"I know." Elizabeth replied in a somewhat somber manner. "I'm so sorry that I have to ask this of you."

"Just tell me what I need to do and when, and then I'll do it. I'll reschedule offing the Pomeroys around it." the menace stated. "Though, honestly, I'm a little surprised."

"At what?"

"Aren't angels supposed to tell me to forgive them or whatever? That's the main script Jesus-y people give when people advocate violence against nasty fuckers."

"Hmm, no." bluntly answered the angel. "They're harming others and they're going to be judged accordingly. Helping them along is beneficial for the most people."

"Even though it's murder?"

"Murder isn't a very nice thing to do, but I'm not sure what else you're going to do." Elizabeth said. "That's sort of the beauty of your existence, Jim. While I can't harm a human being like that, even though I know it's wrong for them to continue doing it, you can. You can advocate for justice in a way that is direct and you can do it without consequence. What is the worst that could happen? They turn you into a demon?"

"You're not going to say that their life is worth just as much as mine?"

"Every human life is precious, Jim, but when you're more monster than man, what does that mean?"

To that, the Phantomhive just nodded along, understanding what she was getting at. Still, she continued. "Forgiveness is a wonderful thing, but there are certain things that you just don't forgive. Forgiveness in that case would be condoning, and that makes you guilty as well. In reality, although Christianity says you should forgive everyone in order to be a happy person, if you forgive someone who you aren't ready to, then you're just crushing down your most likely justified feelings just so someone else can feel better about the wrong they committed. It's also usually just given out willy-nilly, when forgiveness is something that should be earned. You will never properly forgive someone if they haven't acknowledge that they had done something wrong and if they have proven that they will never do it again. Without any of that, forgiveness is hollow, meaningless, and at worse, allows people who have done terrible things to feel no remorse for doing so. As it currently is, 'forgiveness' to a lot of Christians now adays is simply a 'get out of jail free card.'"

"Yeah, who cares about the victims' feelings?" Jim chimed in. "All that matters is how inconvenient they are to outsiders who sympathise with the criminal and believes their crimes were not that big of a deal."

"Precisely. No matter how horrible it is. There are some people, who use the rhetoric of forgiveness to hide behind, because the fact of the matter is: they don't mind the crime."

"Amen."

"Ah, that's right!" the woman declared, having remembered something. "You wanted there to be funeral services for the boys, didn't you? I thought you aren't religious?"

"I'm not. Despite being a demon, I don't really believe in God. But… I dunno. It feels like closure, somehow." Alois replied. He leaned on the railing, looking down at the main floor of the Intelligence Department from his place on the floor above it. There were more computers and offices behind himself and the angel as he spoke. He could even see Audrey's head downstairs as the faded purple beanie stood out from the sea of maroon berets and capless heads. Alois watched them for a moment like they were fish in an aquarium, finding the effect to be similarly soothing.

"Yeah. It's closure." he nodded to himself, having settled on that idea. "Very few of them had a particularly good life. I know I didn't, and I bet I wasn't the only one. All of them weren't shown even the slightest bit of respect or human decency in life or even in death. I can't do much about the prior, but I think it's about time that they at least had the latter, y'know? Give them something."

Reaching out, the woman put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a sideways hug while she rested her head on his shoulder. "You're a good bloke, Jim. You're a lot more pleasant than most humans. If you were human, you would be up for sainthood."

"I don't know about that. It's just somebody's gotta do it, but nobody's gonna do it, so I will." the Phantomhive said. Then, however, he let out a chuckle before posing like a divine figure. "I'm the Patron Saint of Scoundrels, Liz. I advocate for all the innocent people society deems as trash. It only makes sense that the Saint of Scoundrels be a scoundrel themselves, right?"

"'Scoundrel' seems harsh..."

"Lizzie, society throws these people away. There isn't the slightest shred of human decency given to them. They are considered worthless- less than human, and therefore, they're disposable. You can take out all of your anger on them and then throw them away. No one will care. Society casts them as scoundrels who deserve this treatment, when in reality, they were just given a shitty hand. 'Scoundrel' seems harsh, but it's how the world sees them. They saw me the same way. If people knew what all has been done to me in my lifetime, they would still see me that way. Like I'm… well… 'damaged.'"

"Jim, you're not!" Elizabeth replied in shock as she pulled away. Her tone was sympathetic and her face was concerned. "Don't say that about yourself..."

"I know that. I know that, you know that, my husband knows that, and everybody else who knows me knows that, but it's- Not up to any of you, if that makes any sense. You can see inside, but most people can only see the outside. Instead of a 'person,' I'm just a backdrop to other people's lives. When something is 'wrong' with me, they have a reason to hate me. My lack of worth has purpose, and therefore they have permission to treat me as a punching bag at their leisure."

Finally looking over at her, he watched her face for any changes in expression, all without changing his own. It was not somber. It was not afraid. He looked and sounded as though he were simply stating bare-faced facts.

"What I'm getting at is that people are nasty. They might not be human trafficker level of nasty, but it's people who are like that that allow them to keep doing what they're doing. It's people like that that make sure that the scoundrels never get the help they need to move on and live a happier, better life. And it's justified. Because after all, who cares about a couple of whores? It's not like they're real people or anything."

"You were a child..." Elizabeth said in disbelief. Her mind had trouble wrapping itself around such a cold truth- such an icy, bleak truth. She had never seen this world herself, but she had heard stories. She had read about it in the paper and oh, what a shame it was. What a horrible shame. Yet, she could only see so much from the windows of her warm, safe, house. It was always illuminated. There was no darkness, there. That was all outside those walls. She had heard of such things, but now wondered exactly how much she knew.

"No." Alois replied. "I was never a child in the eyes of society. Only a scoundrel. But, now I'm in the light and am a respectable man. Knowing what's out there, though, I can't help but want to help them. Even if it's something little like this that they'll never even know about, it's something. And destroying the family that did this to us and continues doing it to others is even better."

His eyes flickered with determination as he cracked a little bit of a smile. "That's the difference between 'revenge' and 'justice.'"

How could he smile like that? How could he laugh? How was he not absolutely shaking with fury and rage over this? Elizabeth didn't know. She would never know or even understand it. All she knew was that Alois had something horrible stored somewhere in the back of his psyche, but had the ungodly amount of strength to keep it there. More than that, he had the insane courage to go after people like his torturers for the sake of helping others like him. Truly, Jim Phantomhive was a terrifying, but noble man. No matter how the world would perceive him if they knew of his suffering, he was untarnished and stood tall amoung weaklings who considered themselves giants.

"You will get them." was all the poor woman could think to say. "You will get them no matter what. Even if you're interrupted by this, you will bring the Pomeroys down and they won't be able to terrorise anyone ever again. You have my faith."

"The faith of an angel?" jested the Phantomhive with a chuckle. "That's a pretty big deal."

"Maybe so, but I am merely stating facts. I honestly think you may be destined for greatness, Mister Phantomhive."

"'Greatness?'" echoed the man. "Hah! I don't know about 'greatness,' but I'll sure be something, that I know."

Alois was a strange man. His face was that of beauty. His skin, hair, and eyes were all fair, but there was always a hint of something terrible hiding just beneath his surface. Although he smiled, laughed, and was an obviously very happy man, there were sometimes moments where Elizabeth was reminded that there was indeed a lot of pain hidden deep within his heart. They were superb friends and loved each other as such, but there were times where they had to accept that they were of two worlds. Yet, they always tried their best to bridge the gap and to understand where the other was coming from. These occasional glimpses into the darker parts of Alois, however, always left Elizabeth somewhat shaken. She had no idea what horrific things lurked behind those eyes of his, but knew that it was beyond anything that she could even fathom.

That is how she understood his logic. That is how she understood her husband's logic. That is how she understood the logic of many other agents under her command. Many of them came from horrific circumstance. Some fled their home countries because they were not safe there. Some were former child soldiers or trafficking victims with nowhere else to go. Others were mercenaries with their own unique pasts. Elizabeth always put a foot forward, however, and tried her best to understand. Yet, there were times when she became afraid.

Not of her coworkers, mind you, but of the lack of order in the world and her powerlessness to do a thing about it. There was suffering everywhere, yet she, an angel, could do nothing to put an end to it. It made her afraid not only in terms of the possibility of her own obsolescence, but also in having these thoughts at all. What did it mean when an angel denied the "truth" that divinity meant one was always just and righteous, while demonity always meant that one was monstrous and evil? Instead, she found a new truth. Divine beings could be wrong and even do harm. Some demons could be good and want to help people. But what was the purpose of angels, then? It was thoughts like these that made her afraid of falling. Just how far could she go before her fellow angels questioned her? Then again, if becoming an angel in the first place was not limited to whether one was a Christian or not, let alone how devout one was, did it really matter in the first place? What role did theology play in being divine or demonic? Elizabeth didn't know. She didn't know if she would ever know. All she could do was speculate and do her best.

If she did fall and become a demon, there was at least some comfort in knowing that it wasn't the end. Jim and her cousin had proved that. Yet, it was still a risk that she was not keen on possibly taking. The thought terrified her. If that day were to ever come, however, she knew that she would be in good hands. After all, there was a Patron Saint of Scoundrels who would be more than happy to watch over her.


A/N: Comment if u would pray 2 the patron saint of scoundrels uwu

This is a very strange chapter that didn't go in the direction I had initially planned... We're rolling with it, tho.

One thing I feel is important to point out, though, is that to be an angel, you don't actually have to be a Christian, in DLTD. In fact, you don't have to be religious at all. Maybe I'll explore more with the relationship between religion and angels in DLTD. It's interesting. It's simultaneously complicated and not at all.

Liz doesn't know what to do. She is trying her best to be supportive, but needs a minute to catch up. Pray 4 her.

Uh... Let's see... What else... I love the way "The Patron Saint of Scoundrels" sounds lmao. But saints have symbolism associated with them so that you can identify them in artwork, right? So what imagery or objects would be associated with Jim?

Who knows...

I'm still working on how this is gonna go tbh. I worked out the end, but the beginning is always the worst part. Pls be patient with me!

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!