Fabric folded and was stuffed into a suitcase in a rather rash fashion before being joined by other items and necessities in a similar fashion. It felt like time was moving slower as a knot tied itself in the young woman's stomach. She did not wish to leave her home, but she had no choice. That shady fellow in the turtleneck with the creepy vibe to him had come for her and she must go with him. That was the deal her father had made.

"Are you really okay with all of this?" asked the teenaged boy lurking in the doorway to her room. He had the same charcoal hair that his siblings had and the beady black eyes of his father. He watched her, knowing full well what the answer was, but wanted her to say it.

"It's fine." she lied. "I don't care. Makes my life plans a lot easier, anyway."

"Yeah, but aren't you even a little bit mad? I mean, you're getting sold off to some rando. I thought you were always so much better than that?"

"He's not 'some rando.' His name is 'Phillip.'"

"You sure that picture is legit and he's not really some gross old guy?"

"I'm sure." She wasn't sure, but wanted to believe that.

"Okay, so how old is he? Thirty?"

"Shut up." the girl forcefully instructed, closing the suitcase while trying to end the conversation.

"But Sasha-"

"Shut up, Reuben. Don't act like you care." Taking the case in hand, she turned around, only to see the younger smiling at her with crooked teeth.

"Whore." he accused, refusing to stand aside so she could leave the room. There was a pause while she weighed the possibility of arguing, but ultimately, just rammed him with her shoulder so he would move.

"It's a marriage. It's respectful."

"Keep telling yourself that, sis. Sure you don't wanna wait until Dennis gets home."

"Dennis can eat shit. I'm going." she said, walking past him. She tried to leave him behind, but he followed her down the hallway and into the living room where the strange man and her father waited.

Ian Pomeroy sat in a chair in the living room with his eldest son, Jared, standing behind him. Standing in front, towering over him was a terrifying man whose actual power they could not even fathom. He spoke to Pomeroy as the mortal seemed to stare blankly ahead of himself. The air was tense with only the man in black seeming to have any sense of calm.

"You're on a sinking ship, Pomeroy." spoke the demon. "Did you really think those orders would just fulfill themselves without anyone running the place? Julian is missing and with the way things have been going for you, I think that it's safe to assume that he won't be coming back. That means that you must fulfill your family's end of the bargain. It's now your responsibility. Needless to say, the Philosopher's Society is not pleased."

There was silence for a few moments as that sank in before Ian spoke. "The Philosophers aren't the real problem..." he said. "I'm not stupid… I know how things are..."

"Then you know what's going to happen if you don't fix it, don't you?"

Pomeroy only nodded. His movements were slow and his face was vacant, but his children's were a bit more expressive. Leaning down, Jared whispered to his father, pleading with him. "Dad, you can't just accept this." he said. "Surely there's a way out..."

"Quiet, boy! You don't know what you're talking about..." Ian grumbled, refusing to look at him.

Looking up again, Jared's attention turned to the demon. "Mister Beattie, surely there's a way to solve this."

"No, there really isn't." The demon shook his head. "The only other option is to give everything over to my lord. You younger ones are still useful, so you would probably be fine if you worked for us directly, but your father? It looks a bit like he's bitten off a bit more than he can chew. If the Pomeroys are going to regain their family's earldom, it won't be Ian Pomeroy who gets it. Consider it."

"Why us?" Jared questioned.

"Even if you don't have your title, noble blood still runs through your veins and that is very important to my master. That is exactly the reason why he wanted your sister to marry his son. That's the whole reason why I'm here today. Out of all of the Philosophers, this family is the most useful in terms of legacy. How did you not know this?"

"What?" Reuben asked as he stepped into the room, following his sister. "That's why no one else was picked?"

"Of course. That and the fact that this family is not only of noble heritage, but also has a daughter." Beattie stated. "Daughters are useful right now and you know how those noble-types are. Blood matters. New money is alright, but my master prefers old money. Though, you've sort of fallen from grace."

"Then what's going to happen to the rest of us?" the teen asked. "She's gonna get whisked away while we don't get squat?!"

"Unless you want to work for us? Probably. It's your call, though. I'm just the deliveryman." Spotting Sasha, Johnathan added: "I see my next package is ready?"

"Yes..." the girl replied. Her tone was somber and she looked down.

"Then let's go. I'm done here, otherwise." the demon said, walking toward the door. Noticing that he wasn't being followed, he stopped to turn around and gesture for her to do so. "Come on. Your new home awaits."

Hesitantly, the girl did as she was told and walked forward. She joined the demon at his side before he turned to face her family. "I trust all of you will be coming to the wedding, then?"

After a moment of silence, Jared took charge for just a moment and answered for the group. "Yes..."

"Good." nodded Johnathan. "Do your best to hold out until then. Give things a good thinking over. I hope to see you again in the future."

With that, the demon left, taking the Pomeroy girl with him. That would be the last time she set foot in that apartment. That would be the last time she and her father saw each other. Once the door was closed, Ian hung his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he slumped over in his chair. His son tried his best to comfort him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, dad. She'll be fine." Jared told him, trying to cheer him up. The gesture was ill-received however, as he was harshly brushed off.

"Who cares about that?!" Ian demanded. "Of course she'll be fine! She'll be the one with a title and money and I won't have shit. We won't have shit! Don't you fucking get it? We're fucked!"

"There's gotta be a way..."

"There is no way! Jesus, Jared, could you be any more clueless?" The father violently whipped his head around to look at his son, but upon seeing the distraught look on the younger man's face, he sighed. After a moment, Ian summoned what energy he could and stood up. Slowly, he shuffled toward the liquor cabinet, all the while muttering.

"You're just like your mother..." he grumbled, the sound accompanied by the clinking of glass jars as he rummaged for the one he was looking for. "You're so bloody sensitive and you don't know a goddamn thing…"

"Dad, I-"

"Shut up. Just shut up and leave me alone. Go back to your own house. There's nothing for you here. It's all gone to shit..."

"Dad..."

"Go!" Ian barked, taking a bottle from the cabinet and prying off the lid. "Take your brother with you. I don't wanna look at either one of you."

Quietly, Jared looked over at his younger brother. Hesitantly, he began to walk toward him. "Pack your shit."

"What? Why do I have to-?" the lad protested.

"Don't ask questions. Just do it." Jared ordered, putting a hand on the younger's back and giving him a shove.

Things were dire for the Pomeroys. Their business wasn't being run since Julian "disappeared," leading to a large amount of unhappy customers who were in powerful positions. They might be able to defend from a few of them if they retaliated, but definitely not all of them. Money and power only came so far in a fight against someone fighting with the same weapon. Furthermore, Ian assumed what would happen if he did not fix it with his superiors. He didn't need to be told. If he couldn't fix it, the next person in his place would have to and honestly, he didn't think any of his next of kin were up to the task.

He was fucked. Absolutely fucked. He was dead with his people and dead with whoever it was who kept killing his relatives. He had no doubt that he was the next target. It was either him or his sons. Not even Reuben would be safe, as the killer killed teenagers. They also killed girls, so his daughter might be at risk, but he knew that she was being closely guarded by freaks of nature, so she was most likely safe.

"Shit..." he grumbled, staring into his glass as he sat alone in his apartment that night. He had sent everyone away and was partially tempted to leave his door unlocked, but somehow, he knew the killer would get in. If not that night, it could be the next or the one after that. He waited. He waited for something to happen instead of doing anything to fix things. If his children were smart, they would just take up the offer and work directly with Johnathan. If they weren't, then they weren't going to make it, anyway.

Sometimes, he would get up and wander around the apartment, pacing aimlessly while shuffling his feet along the ground. He didn't want to do anything, but sitting there was boring and hurt him as well. His oldest sons tried to call him, alerting him to the fact that it was daylight out, but he ignored them. When they called in the evening, too, he ignored them. He ignored everything and waited and waited and waited, walking around and then sitting back down to reflect on things, allowing them to get further and further out of his control. Eventually, his phones were ringing so often that he switched off his cellphone and unplugged the one in the house.

His wandering eventually led him to his own office and he lamented the fact that he hardly ever used it for real work. Looking back, he only seemed to have used it to be intimidating or for busywork. Occasionally, he would order someone to do something form here, but he was never leader of the business for long enough to get much mileage out of having this room. It used to be the bedroom of his second eldest, Dennis, and he always wanted one, so he went for it. What a waste. There was something he did use it for, though. There was a safe that he kept a few "essentials" in. Slowly, he walked over to it and spun the combination until it opened.

Inside there were fat rolls of money, a few knives, and two pistols with their holsters and bullets. Reaching inside, he pulled one out and held it in his hand. It was a beautiful revolver with a pearl handle and rather intricate engraving on the barrel. Obviously, it did not come cheap. Ian weighed his options for a moment before reaching back into the safe and pulling out a box of bullets. After attaching the holster to his waist, he loaded the weapon and put tucked it safely away. He didn't just load one bullet, either. He wasn't a coward. If anybody came for him, he was gonna die blasting them to bits. At least, that's what he hoped might happen if he was up to it. While he could have turned back and gone back to waiting, he instead paused, peering into the safe. Reaching in one last time, he pulled out a wooden box with a busted lock. Slowly, he turned around and set it down on the desk before opening it.

There was only one item inside. It was a ring. A signet ring. It dated back sometime from the 1890's- not long after the true family ring was lost and the changing of the Earls occurred. Ian's ancestor, Arnold Trancy, had it made after he discovered that he would never recover the ring that he was owed for becoming the head of the family. On it was the family crest and motto, complete with the spider and the ironic utterances of restraint and dignity. This ring was born due to a thief stealing it's ancestor, and now the ancestor of its creator was a thief, himself, having stolen it from his brother upon his own father's death without anyone noticing. Now that he was the true leader of the clan, however, it was rightfully his. Taking it out of its box, he placed it on his finger, holding his hand out to admire it.

It felt powerful. It felt official. Noble. It also felt vile at the same time. The legacy of this ring was a legacy of monsters trying to rebuild after they were vanquished before. Ian had hoped that this ring would become a thing of beauty one day when they ascended to the peerage once more, but at this rate, it felt cheap. It was his, though. It was all he had of prestige. He would not get any more. It was his and his alone.

Walking back to the living room, he sat down again, twisting the ring on his finger as he stared at the door. Something was going to come and he was convinced that he was going to be ready for it. He was only human, however, so his eyelids eventually grew heavy and he could no longer keep them open. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep without even realising it.

Thus, when he awakened to the sound ot the door opening and closing, one can only imagine his surprise when the room was completely dark, save for the light from the cityscape outside that illuminated the intruder's face. It was a rather pretty-looking man with a cat-like face and pale hair. He looked down on the Pomeroy with disgust, but then smiled, of all things. Yet, he didn't seem friendly in the slightest as he did.

"'Evening." the blonde greeted. "Isn't it more comfortable to sleep in a bed than in a chair, though?"

Almost instantaneously, Ian understood. "You're the one whose been killing us off?" he asked. "I didn't expect some nancyboy..."

"Neither did any of the others." Alois answered. "Well, you knowing what I'm up to saves on suspense, so there's that."

"Is Julian dead?"

"As a door nail."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you gonna off me?"

"Usually, people wanna know why they're being killed." the menace explained. "It's only polite."

"I couldn't give less of a shit." Ian replied. "Whether it's you, the philosophers, or some business rival, it's all the same to me. I'm just pissed off, is all. You're probably not gonna let me warn my kids, are you?"

"No. If they're as guilty as you, they'll die, too."

"Oh, you're one of those uppity fuckers, aren't you? Going around, acting all moral and shit… What? Are you a prude? Gotta snuff out the deplorables in the name of Jesus?"

"Not Jesus, no." Alois bluntly replied. "Anything else you wanna say or know? Anything to confess in the name of not-God?"

"You're not with the Philosophers?"

"No, but if there's anything you wanna share with me about them before you die, I'm all ears. Especially since the chunk your brother shot off has grown back."

"You want to know about them?" scoffed the Pomeroy. "Normally, I'd tell you to get fucked, but I'm pretty fuckin' cross at them right now. You wanna know about those fuckers? I'll tell ya. They ain't shit. They're nothing. Only a few of 'em are worth worrying about and worth worrying big about. The rest of 'em? Just tools that are thrown away as soon as they stop being useful."

"Like Pendergraft?"

"You know her? Yeah. Like that slaggy bitch. Thought just 'cause she batted her eyelashes and flashed her tits a few times, they'd keep her around. Ha! They've already started culling the herd. I doubt she's the only one that's kicked it by now. I'm just next in line, is all. If there's anybody you should be killin', though, it's those bastards. I'm just a small fry. If you don't kill me, they will. Me and my good-for-nothing brats, if they don't mind their manners around 'em."

"I'll get to them when I can. Don't worry. They won't hurt any."

"Whatever. Just kill Dennis last. He's my favourite. The younger two came around after my dumbass second wife wanted to compete with my other ex. My oldest? He's soft. He'll probably piss himself the moment you look at 'im."

"Charming."

"You know what's charming? The fact that everything I ever fucking did wasn't worth shit. I'm shit. I've always been shit. I tried to stop being shit, but now that Julian is gone and the business is fucked? I'm gonna eat shit." Ian stated, leaning forward a bit. "I did everything I could. I even married off my daughter to the head honcho's crotchfruit because he said it would make me more powerful when he made me an Earl. Hah! I'll never be a fucking Earl. Not if I die here, anyway."

"Nope. Quite frankly, I'm glad. You people should never have any kind of power again. You abuse it. You abuse everybody around you. It's better off if you're all dead."

"Ooh! A personal vendetta, huh?" the Pomeroy scoffed. "Now I get why you're so mad. You mad because some of our customers turned you queer? Thought you looked like a poofter when I first saw you. I'm so sorry."

The Pomeroy's smile widened as he saw the demon's eyelid twitch. Taking a deep breath, however, Alois did his best to calm himself. He couldn't allow himself to fly into a rage every single time, even if what he was hearing made him want to pull out each one of the man's teeth and then shove them underneath his fingernails. Alois was a rational man, now, but that still didn't mean that he had to listen.

Thus, he raised a gloved hand and pointed a pistol at the man. It was a revolver and one that made Ian Pomeroy's eyes go wide. Astonished, he looked down at his waist to check the holster at his hip, only to find it empty. Looking up at the menace, he narrowed his eyes and growled.

"You-!"

BANG! Alois didn't even let him say a second word. There was a clean hole between the Pomeroy's glassy eyes from which the contents of his skull drained. Nodding, the man held up the gun to his own view and examined it, finding it to be a lot more decorated than ones that he was used to. Even his own twin pistols were not as flashy. With that, the black threads of his diabolical garb wrapped around it as he decided to help himself. Once it was stowed away, he was going to call HELLSING to take the computers from the man's office to see if there was anything of interest on them, but stopped once his phone was out as something caught his eye.

Taking a step closer, he picked up the deadman's hand and saw the ring on his finger. Squinting, he took in all the details, finding himself correct in seeing that old crest. He did not recognise the ring, however. No one wore it in his time, so it must be newer. He wish he could say he was surprised, but given the Trancy's nature of being greedy and into glitz and gold, he wasn't in the slightest. Especially since Arnold took over.

Sliding it off of Ian's finger, he allowed the hand to drop limply before holding the ring up to the light. It was dirty. Obviously, it hadn't been cleaned in a while. It was fitting. Holding up his other hand, he looked at the Phantomhive signet ring his husband gave him and compared the two. It was shiny and well-kept by the menace along with his wedding ring.

Admittedly, keeping the ring was petty and he recognised that. Yet, he didn't want the Pomeroys to have it. He didn't want them to have that history of nobility. This ring was a symbol of their blood tie to to the aristocracy and he did not want them to make that claim. Thus, he took it from them, concealing it in his breast pocket before going about his business.

He called HELLSING and cleanup arrived. They didn't touch anything apart from the computers, which they liberated from the office. The body was left there to be found by the family or whoever came across it. Money was stolen from the safe in part to make things look like a robbery, but also because Alois just wanted to take it. He didn't need it. He just wanted to.

While they were finishing up, Alois excused himself and made his way out of the building in a rather casual fashion, since the security cameras were turned off, now. He left through the front door and started the walk back to his car, which was parked a few blocks away. All the while, he allowed the cool night air of late November cool his head. This was getting easier, now. He was calmer now than he was at the start. That said, he really thought he should just pull the trigger next time instead of trying to talk. There's no point in it. There's nothing they can say or give him that's of any value.

"I'm home!" he called out upon walking through the front door of Phantomhive manor, hanging his work coat in the rack by the door before stepping out into the foyer. Ascending the steps, he made his way to the office, sighing as his feet shuffled against the carpet before finally peeking his head through the door. "Knock knock, Poochini. I'm back."

"Welcome home." the bluenette greeted, standing from his seat in order to properly and politely greet his spouse. Making his way over to the other man, he kissed his cheek as per custom. "How did it go?"

"I killed a man. Also I need to drop off a few things in the memorabilia room, so I need you to open it up." his husband replied while reaching into his coat. Upon stepping over to his own desk, he began emptying the contents of his pockets. Stack upon stack of bills were neatly sorted on top of it, prompting Ciel to arch an eyebrow.

"You're going to put money in there?"

"No, the money is to make it look like a robbery. I'm just gonna give it away. Maybe to Gehenna? I dunno." Holding up his hand, black flame sparked from Alois' palm as the threads of his diabolical garb came undone and the gaudy pistol appeared in his hand. Quickly, the man unloaded it, placing the bullets on his desk with the money before tossing it to his husband. "That's one of them."

"You stole his gun, too?"

"Not like he was gonna use it."

"There's powder on it. It's been fired."

"I shot him with it."

"I see." the bluenette observed. "Should I go find a good spot for this, then?"

"There's one more." Alois informed, reaching into his breast pocket. Turning around, he faced his beau before presenting the ring to him. "He was wearing this."

"A signet ring?" Ciel questioned before taking it between his fingers and observing it. "For the Trancys? Did they always have this?"

"No, that sucker is new. Well… New-ish. It came after me, I mean. My guess is Arnold had it made since the real family ring was 'lost.'"

"I see… Are you alright hanging onto this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… It's Trancy. Do you really want it?"

"Ciel, how many iron crosses have you snatched off the bodies of Nazis and stored in the memorabilia room?" Alois questioned. "If you're allowed to take the sentimental objects from your fallen enemies as trophies, then so can I."

"Fair enough."

"I wanna go down with you." the menace said, heading for the door. "C'mon."

"Sure you don't want to sit around for a little bit first?" questioned the Watchdog.

"Nah, I'll do that once the job is done."

It wouldn't be over in Alois' eyes until the objects were placed in the room in the second most deepest place in the entire estate. He paused, allowing his spouse to walk ahead of him as they walked downstairs. Then, the descended into the basement, flicking the switch at the top of the stairs so that they could see the creaking steps in front of them.

Ordinary boxes of things that could be stored in this environment took up space down there, along with the altar and other materials for rituals of a diabolical nature. This time, they were performed by the Phantomhives, not on them. Those were pushed up against the wall in the farthest corner of the room. The remnants of chalk circles, however, still remained on the concrete floor beneath their feet.

"Are these from when you summoned me?" Alois asked, looking down at them.

"Possibly. I don't think I've done anything else like that down here, so it's entirely possible." Ciel replied before looking down, himself. "They're really faded. I'm kind of amazed they're visible at all if it really is that. How long has it been? Seven or eight years?"

"It feels like way longer..."

"It'll become longer, still." Chuckling, Ciel added: "The lines will eventually fade, but I'll never forget the sight of you falling off that table and throwing a fit."

"I came back from the dead! I was disoriented! Fuck you!"

"Oh? You're not gonna wine and dine me first?" playfully retorted the Watchdog, laughing as his spouse gently punched his shoulderblade. With that, he approached the door to the memorabilia room and unlocked the door. "Hey, I like being romanced, too."

"I know you do. Remember the time I got all dressed up at that party and turned you bisexual?"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never." Alois stated while the two of them stepped inside. "Never ever."

"You're so mean..."

Once again, they were surrounded by all of the trophies that they had collected over the years. Almost all of them were Ciel's, but Alois had an artifact or two. There was the BlackJack mask he wore when he was "brainwashed" by Voros and the rest of Cerberus. There was also his first pistol, Zamiel, which served him well over the years until it was replaced with his current pair. Now he had the pistol of Ian Pomeroy and the signet ring of Trancy to add. Unlocking one of the glass display cases, he opened it before holding a hand out to Ciel. Once the bluenette returned the pistol, he gently placed it in the case, not even bothering to clean it. It still had evidence of it's owner's demise on it, morbidly adding to its "authenticity." Then came the time for the ring.

Alois paused, examining it one last time. Once the Pomeroys were gone, this would be one of the last artifacts of the Trancys, save for the house that was still being studied. It would definitely be the last piece that was still owned by the family. It was their final treasure and Alois had taken it from them. With this, their actual ties to the old family was in their blood, but also in their belief systems.

He carefully placed the small piece of jewelry in the case with the gun. It was another trophy for his collection. Somehow. Alois actually felt proud. He was the one who had brought what was once one of the most powerful families in all of Britain to it's knees. It was he, Jim Phantomhive, The Saint of Scoundrels, who bested them. He scraped and schemed for his power, yes, but he built it up on his own and he was more than willing to use it to vanquish them once and for all.

"This is a serious dick move." Alois observed, knowing full well what he was doing. "I'm stole a piece of their heritage and put it on display just to show off how strong I am. Somehow, I don't feel bad, either. Is that normal or is it just my fucked-up-ness acting up again?"

"You're asking me? I don't know." With that, Ciel gestured around the room. "Obviously, as one can see, I can't tell the difference, either. It's normal to me, so I can't judge you. In a weird way, it's kind of nice to see you adding your own trophies, as grim as the situation may be."

"I don't mind it. You can go ahead and feel that way."

"It is rather confusing, however." the Watchdog confessed. "It really is difficult to tell the difference, sometimes…"

"Oh, that reminds me," the blonde began. "You seemed to have had a rough night a couple times last night. Are you still having bad dreams?"

"I honestly don't remember. Dreams are like that sometimes… You'll protect me though, right?"

"Of course!" smiled the menace, walking toward his spouse before kissing the man on the cheek on the way out of the room. "I've gotta protect my wee little pup. You're welcome to nuzzle up against my bosom any time you like. Though… Maybe not right now. I'm paggered and dying to sit down, now."

"Are you going to want to use me as your pillow, then?"

"Maybe. Though, if you could rub my shoulders instead, that would be nice, too."

"Alright, alright." Ciel replied, shaking his head with a smile as he followed his spouse back up the stairs. "I'll spoil you a bit, then."

"Thank you, darling~!" Once they were all the way back up, the bluenette grabbed Alois' shoulders and began kneading his thumbs into the soft tissue. "Oof! Lemme sit down, first!"

"Relax."

"Ugh!"

"Are you relaxing?"

"I'm being pestered by an idiot."