"Ultra Infirmitatibus Meis"
Chapter 22
"The ice that burns"
In a quiet dark room, the most influential people of England were discussing how to handle the Undercliffe of Bradford city. One of the most criminal infested areas in the country.
"This can't go on like this." A man, his face wrinkled with time and hair peppered with silver streaks said, addressing everyone gathered around a round table. "Something needs to be done."
A murmur of agreement echoed around the secured room, interrupted only by a metallic click every now and then.
The man, Rupert Holland, nodded and then turned his attention to the paper model of the offending ward taking up the entire table.
"Given that Undercliffe comes out on top as the biggest hotspot of violent crimes, I suggest we diverge some of our finest police officers to the local precinct, and give the existing police officers a generous raise for doing their best."
Another murmur passed through the table, before Ms. Smallwood stood up.
"Really, Mr. Holland, it is public knowledge that the criminal underbelly of Undercliffe owns the local commissioner. Giving them more officers isn't going to do anything but give the ward more people to turn a blind eye to their crimes." Rupert Holland glared at her momentarily, for he did not like when people point out flaws in his propositions, but quickly heard the truth in her words. "If the problem is to be solved we need to target the new generation, since the older one is already lost to us. I suggest building schools and therapy centers for troubled children." The room filled with whispers once more but Alicia only had eyes and ears for one individual.
He was sitting at the far end of the table, his hand playing with a lighter, flipping it open and closed with a flick of his wrist.
There was a strange absence in his eyes that she didn't like.
Undercliffe.
Misery, crime, murder, death, corruption.
Filth.
It cannot remain this way.
They say.
Fix this.
They demand.
Make it beautiful again.
They tell him.
Fix this, Mycroft.
And so he will.
Ever the loyal little Jester King.
It will be done.
So he swore.
On his name, and his honor.
The city will be fixed.
The lighter, heavy and silver in his hand, glows in the dim light.
He looks over to the city.
So filthy, so broken.
So wrong.
They debate around him, suggesting ideas on how to save it, save the people.
Click-Clack, goes the lighter.
He doesn't join them, just watches the silver box in his palm, so warm now from his touch, as it gleams and shines.
Mycroft keeps silent.
He lets them theorize and hope and try, even when he already knows what needs to be done.
Click-Clack, goes the lighter.
They don't see it yet.
Or they refuse to.
But Mycroft is no longer blind to such options.
"I've had a vision its clear to me now
I know what has to be done"
"Mycroft?" A voice asks. (Woman, middle aged, soft spoken, gentle but firm, concerned but unyielding) Alicia Smallwood. One of his inner circle. "Do you have an idea?"
He says nothing, eyes still following the flowers engraved on the silver box.
Click-Clack, goes the lighter.
A large part of him rages at this silence, at this pitiful hesitation that is so unbecoming of someone who is made to be above such weakness.
But a small one, the very same part that felt warmth when in contact with little Watson, wanted to give them those two extra minutes of hope.
So, against everything he stood for, he allowed himself to be merciful one last time.
And shook his head.
"Filth of my land must be washed clean and pure
Now let the cleansing begin"
They go back to brainstorming, their voices getting more frantic and anxious now that he's declared his inability to contribute.
His eyes remain on the lighter, as he counts down the seconds before he tells them exactly what needs to be done.
Click-clack, goes the lighter.
They're not going to like it.
And at another time, he wouldn't even consider it.
Would try to find another way.
Anything but this.
But he's past that now.
Past worrying about ethics and morals.
He was told to Do what needs to be done.
And so he will.
Mycroft glances at the paper city district sitting before him on the table, and thinks about the people inhabiting it.
All seventeen thousand of them.
Each and every single person: Corrupted to the core from the very beginning.
Like diseased goldfish in a pond.
And suddenly those people weren't people anymore.
Just negative numbers on paper.
Click-Clack, goes the lighter.
"Mr. Holmes?" Another voice, the same gentle one from before. Alicia Smallwood. "Do you know what we have to do?"
Mycroft looked at the clock hanging over one of the attendant's head like an inconspicuous Sword of Damocles, and stood up.
The time for mercy was over.
"Chase them down, let them suffer in pain
Dig them down, they'll be gone for a while
Evidence lost"
Watching her old friend stand up filled Alicia with a strange sort of dread.
Of foreboding.
A feeling that she, unfortunately, has been feeling quite frequently ever since That Night.
She doesn't like doing this.
Watching one of her oldest friends with fear and apprehension but lately…
Mycroft Holmes hasn't been acting like himself.
So far it has been contained to his personal life but Alicia has this sinking feeling that it's only a matter of time before it bleeds into his work.
Taking a steading breath, the woman tried to calm her nerves and soothe her beating heart.
It will be fine. She tells herself. Mycroft will just elaborate on the solution he suggested last time.
He walks up to the center of the table, seemingly building up the tension with every slow and even step he takes.
Everything will be fine.
Finally Mycroft stops right in front of the paper city, a small lighter reflecting the light from his grasp.
Click-Clack, goes the lighter.
And the district went up in flames.
"We burn
Show them no mercy, just burn
Flesh turn to ash"
Terrified silence spread through the meeting room.
"We're just going to…" Alicia asked, finding her tongue dry and heavy. "Burn it down? All of it?"
"Yes."
And that was it.
No elaboration.
"Alright." The blonde woman said, praying her voice doesn't betray her fear, and straightening her skirt to gather her thoughts. "We can evacuate the people and-"
"They're not leaving." He cuts her off, and her insides turn to ice.
"But that's-"
"Necessary." He says easily as if they were discussing the weather.
"Genocide!" She exclaims. "There are other ways! We could build schools, and psychiatric wards and-"
"And it would do nothing but make us look weak." Mycroft said not even looking at her. "Instead of doing something about districts like Undercliffe we, cowards that we are, let them remain. We let them bleed away our money and resources like infected wounds that refuse to heal, we let them continue to be stains on Britain's land, we let them turn us into a joke of a government that has lost all its teeth. Because there will always be a more 'humanitarian' way to deal with those who break the law."
Alicia took in a long steading breath.
"We were supposed to fix Undercliffe." She tried to remind him.
His eyes, those cold cold eyes, softened to gaze upon her with pity.
"Fixing is not synonymous with saving, Alicia."
She met those eyes evenly, searching for the man she knew so well.
All she saw was ice.
"There was a time you disagreed with that." The counselor reminded him.
"Yes." He acknowledged, looking deep into the fire slowly devouring the paper set. "And I was a coward."
"Having morals is not cowardice." Mrs. Smallwood whispered. "It's what separates us from mindless animals."
"Morals are nothing more than an excuse." Mycroft said, looking at her with glassy eyes. "A meaningless jumble of words created to hold one back from doing what needs to be done."
"Mycroft, listen to yourself!" Smallwood said, finally regaining her true voice. "What you're saying it's… monstrous! There are other ways we can try to remake Undercliffe into a beautiful law-abiding community that don't involve killing everyone."
"Ah but you forget Alicia that we already tried those." He smiled at her then, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was one full of icy edges, and cold eyes.
"Where do you think the idea of Sherrinford Island came from?"
"Genocide?
Who will drag me to court?
There's no crime if you do not get caught
I am the law. We burn"
That cursed Island again.
Rudolph's twisted idea of kindness and mercy.
What was supposed to be a rehabilitation center for the most troubled individuals, turned into a floating prison for the most dangerous of criminals.
She doesn't know what to say to that.
No one does.
"And what did it accomplish besides letting people like Eurus, Moriarty and Magnussen spread fear and chaos throughout the city?" Holmes does. He always knows exactly what to say. A quality Alicia once admired, now filled her with dread. "No, this abuse of non-lethal solutions cannot continue. We're ending it." He says, ice-blue eyes watching the dwindling flames starting to lick the edges of the wooden table. "Starting with Undercliffe."
"Mycroft please." Mrs. Smallwood cannot believe she's doing this, begging her confidant, her friend, to not be the monster others thought him to be. "Reconsider there must be something, anything else that we can-"
"Tell me, Alicia…" he cuts her off, eyes still set on the pitiful remains of the paper district. "What good is mercy in a world that does not respect it?"
"You want to replace it with fear."
"No, not fear." He corrects, his eyes flashing towards her. "Obedience."
"You can't be serious." This day, this whole meeting, felt like a nasty dream. A nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
"And why not?" He asked, so casually, so nonchalantly about the deaths of thousands. "Have you ever been to Undercliffe, Alicia? It is a decaying community that poisons anyone unfortunate enough to be born within its walls. It is a burden, a waste." Mycroft then turned to them, the burning paper district lighting his visage like hellfire flames. "But with this cleansing we can turn it into something else, something greater."
"A cemetery?" She asked, voice hollow and empty.
"A message." He corrects, eyes cold and his smile icy.
"A warning."
"Privates, sergeants and generals hear
It's our chance we've been waiting too long
Your orders are: to start to burn"
AN: Sorry to all the Undercliffe folk out there. I have never been there, but according to google, it's the place in the UK with the most violent crimes. Nothing personal :)
Also the song used in the chapter is "Sabaton - We Burn". Enjoy ;)