The moon positively glowed in the night sky, illuminating the mortal realm below. The stars placed strategically around it glittered and sung with their radiant light, their beauty unmatched by anything else in the world. A peaceful breeze drifted in between houses, danced along alleyways, and hugged all those who were still out at this mystical hour. When the working day was done, the wondrous city of London faded away into a simply lovely charcoal landscape, small dots of gold scattered throughout the shadows. The capital and its inhabitants slept, their dreams filled to the brim with hope and love. Only the most comforting and relaxing sounds echoed through the night; the gentle rumble of trains, the sounds of late night birds and creatures calling out to each other in the dark… and the utterly magnificent cursing coming from a certain abandoned alleyway.
Foul words tumbled out of Esmeralda's pretty mouth as she cursed again, as yet another one of her lock-picks snapped upon use. God damnit! How much defence did a simple Undertaker's shop need? Grumbling something about death and maiming, she took another strip of metal out of her pack, and placed it softly in the keyhole of the door. Steadying her hand, she took a deep breath making sure all her concentration was on her movements. After shuffling so that she was more comfortable, Esmeralda slowly began to move her wrist in a clockwise motion – only for the metal to snap in half as soon as her hand moved.
"Oh, for the love of-!"
A string of colourful and outdated curses left her lips once more, and she slammed a fist into the ground beneath her, cursing when her flesh landed on the remnants of a broken ale bottle. Blood seeped out of her skin and dropped delicately onto the dull ground beneath her. Sighing in hopelessness, Esmeralda placed her hand to her lips, and began to suckle the sticky liquid from her wound, trying to slow the flow. When the wound was not spurting out her body fluids, she wiped her wrist on her clothes, falling back into the wall of the alley. She allowed her head to slump back onto the brick wall beside where she was working, groaning when she hit her skull a little bit too hard, and a sigh of extreme irritation and impatience left her pale lips. Surely, this was not meant to be this hard?! For a store that only dealt with dead bodies, it seemed to have a rather impressive lock on the back door; more impressive than it should have had.
Talking of dead bodies, Esmeralda let her eyes flicker over to the black bag leaning up against the wall, the humanoid shape causing her to feel as though the contents of the bag were watching her unimpressed. She scoffed at her own stupidity, an action quickly followed by the wrinkling of her nose as the smell of decaying flesh entered her nostrils. She sent the body bag a glare, as though doing so would cause it to stop radiating off such a putrid stench. When she had no such luck, Esmeralda raised her hand and wiped the tiredness from her eyes. Stupid. Unnecessary. That's what this contract was. This was a job for one of the younger recruits, one of the trainees. It would have been good practice for them. She failed to see the reason they had sent her, one of the best, for a task as mundane as this. Already, she had had to run all the way across London's rooftops without being seen whilst carrying a stale and rotting body. Then it had started to rain, and she'd almost lost her footing several times. And now her Lockpicks were breaking every time she tried to use them. Honestly, she was about to rip the damn door of its hinges.
Then again, it had been a while since she had… how did the youths of today put it? 'Had some action'. Honestly, she was yearning a man's touch, the feeling of being full, the physical attention. But with her employers sending her on silly little time consuming assignments like this, she had little time for herself at the moment. This meant that she was tensed, hormonal, and just wanting a good rutting. Oh god, she was starting to sound like a mortal whore.
The moon lit up her sitting space like the good friend he was, allowing her to see her surroundings better, but also constantly reminding her that she was running out of time. If she didn't get inside and swap the body around before dawn, then the Undertaker who resigned here would carry out the autopsy and people would find out that the man hadn't actually died from falling drunk onto a bog spike and then she would get in trouble and would probably be hunted down and pulled limb from limb by- Esmeralda shook her head.
These thoughts weren't helping.
Deciding to give it one last chance, Esmeralda stood up and turned back to face the door, leaning on the wood to steady herself as she bent down to retrieve another lock-pick. A small and muffled yelp left her lips when the door swung open flawlessly, and she stumbled inside, landing on the floorboards with a groan. Instantly she snapped her head up, wondering what the hell had happened. Scrambling to her feet, Esmeralda bent down and examined the lock and door-handle. Her next actions involved her slapping herself in the face, mumbling about what an idiot she was. No wonder the lock-picks had been breaking every time she tried to move them. She was trying to pick a lock that wasn't there. She could only guess the Undertaker had been careless tonight, forgetting to lock this particular door. It seemed coincidental, but at this point, Esmeralda was willing to accept that little bit of luck.
Quickly darting outside to grab the body bag, the assassin tugged it into the building with her as quietly as she could, followed shortly by her small pack. When both living and corpse were inside and out of the way of any prying eyes, Esmeralda shut the door leading into the alley, and sighed a deep sigh of relief. Maybe things would be a lot smoother from here on out? Quietly reaching into her pack, Esmeralda drew out a small vial of dark liquid, gently popping the cork out that rested in the neck of the glass bottle. Pulling her cowl down slightly, Esmeralda swiftly tipped her head back and gulped down the small amount of liquid. Instantly, her vision clouded red, only to fade back to normal several seconds later, the blurred crimson in her eyes giving way to sharper images that appeared to be illuminated. With her vision increased, and therefore less likely to walk into anything in the dark, Esmeralda took a quick look around.
Esmeralda could only assume that the Undertaker himself lived above the shop, as she had seen windows on the second floor upon finding the building. Letting her eyes roam over to her right, she saw a small staircase leading up to the second floor, shrouded in darkness. At this late hour, she was certain that the man would be asleep, so as long as she was quiet, she was sure to complete her mission without any hiccups, and for that she was happy. She wanted to be back at her own residence as soon as possible.
Cautiously and carefully lifting the bag above her head, Esmeralda held the body in the way a groom holds a bride, making sure to have complete control of how it moved around. The last thing she wanted was for the corpse to knock anything over because she was careless with it. Taking a hesitant first step, Esmeralda tested for any creaking floorboards, and when she found none, she began her careful walk forward. One step led flawlessly into another, and another, and soon enough, she was standing in the doorway of the shop's main room. Curtains covered the front windows heavily, and that bought another peaceful sigh from her lips. After scanning for the body she wanted, Esmeralda located it on a table that had been set up in the centre of the room. Strolling over to it with ease, she gently laid the corpse in the bag on the floor, unzipping the bag as quietly as she could. A sudden smell overwhelmed her, and she had to hold her breath to prevent herself from gagging. As efficiently as she could, Esmeralda took the body in her arms and placed it onto the table next to the actual victim. She then took the victim and placed that body into the bag, making sure that it was secure before zipping it up, hiding it from the rest of the world. After tying up the top and completely closing the bag, Esmeralda wiped her hands on her clothe trousers, smiling in pained relief that the job was over.
That was when she heard it.
The creepiest damn giggle she had ever heard.
Spinning around as fast as she could, Esmeralda caught her foot in the cloth of the body bag and went tumbling down into the nearest coffin. Her head narrowly avoided colliding with the edge of the wooden box, and her body was enveloped by dark red velvet. She cursed loudly, and then slammed her hand over her mouth, hoping that the man upstairs hadn't heard her. Waiting for several moments in silence, Esmeralda listened out for any signs that someone else was in the room with her. But when her sensitive ears picked up nothing, she shook her head, agreeing with herself mentally that it must have simply been her tired mind.
Growling, Esmeralda pushed herself up and out of the coffin, wanting to get out of that shop before she completely compromised the mission. Standing up and dusting herself off, she swore again – something she seemed to be doing a lot of tonight. However, the sound of creaking wood made her freeze in her movements, and she slowly raised her head to look around the room. Nothing. She used her sharp vision to peer into every nook and cranny that she could see. Nothing. She glanced into the doorway, and into what little bit of the corridor leading back to the alley she could without moving. Still nothing. Alright, now she was starting to worry for her sanity.
Then there was a faint feeling of air ruffling her hair by her ear.
Esmeralda froze in her place.
'…'
"'Ello love..."
Instantly Esmeralda reached for the dagger attached to her thigh, tearing it out of its sheath and swinging it around to hit the person behind her. However, before she could even fully turn around, somebody had grabbed her wrist, bending it back sharply, causing her to gasp in shock. The dagger clattered to the floor, and Esmeralda looked up into the eyes of her attacker. Well, as much of his eyes as she could see.
Long silver hair hung loose around the figure, who she could automatically tell was male. Black robes hung from his lean and slender frame, with a sash of some sort slung over his shoulder and secured around his waist. A top hat that was far to long and eccentric sat atop his head, the material leading off of it wrapping around him. Peering up at his face through the dark, Esmeralda spotted several scars that ran across his face and neck. His skin was pale, but what unnerved her most were his eyes. Despite being concealed by his choppy fringe, she could see two glowing orbs of the brightest green-yellow. She'd seen eyes like those before. Instantly, her undead heart began dancing in her chest to the song of fear that suddenly flowed through her mind.
"What we have here then? A grave robber? No, you're far too pretty to be one of those, aren't you, my sweet." The man reached up and ran a long black finger nail along her jaw, tilting Esmeralda's head up to look at him directly. "Working for the black market maybe? Looking to find organs to sell to those estranged doctors and scientists that are always running around?" It was then that the man looked down at the floor, staring at the dagger for a moment, before a wicked grin spread across his slightly obscured face. "Or, is this little lamb an assassin? If so, I wonder who you're Shepard is?" Esmeralda tried to pull her hand away from the man, but his grip was like a vice, and her resistance was met only with his nails digging into her flesh. "Oh, don't struggle, my dear. Why don't you tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine?" Esmeralda shook, stuttering at the strangeness of this man. He sighed in disappointment when she did not respond, and he shook his head. "Oh, people don't have any manners these days do they? But, I'm still courteous." Suddenly, he tightened his grip on Esmeralda's wrist, bending her arm back, and forcing her to her knees in front of him.
"I'm the Undertaker, and you, whoever you are, have interrupted the rest of my guests and I." The man gestured to the various coffins around him, and Esmeralda groaned through her pain. This guy was the Undertaker?! "Now, I understand that people have to make a living in this day and age, but I'm not very fond of people stealing my own work." Esmeralda looked up at him, growling through gritted teeth. "Oh, feisty one you are!" He laughed. "Ah, but I don't wish to hurt you, no matter how annoying you have been so far. But if I let you go, will you promise not to try and stab me again?" Her eyes widened. She had definitely not been expecting that. But she wanted to get out of here as soon as she could, so she simply nodded. "Good."
The Undertaker released her from her grasp, and held his hand out to her. Esmeralda stared at it for several seconds, her gaze flickering back to his face then back to his hand many times. Eventually, she took it cautiously, and Undertaker gently helped her to her feet. When he pulled his hand away, however, he frowned upon seeing that it was coated in blood, both try and fresh. His bright eyes flickered to Esmeralda's hand, and he cocked his head to the side when he saw that she had a rather nasty gash running along her palm. "How'd you do that, deary?" He asked, pointing one of his long fingers at the wound. Esmeralda glanced at it, holding her up so that she could see it clearer.
"I, uh… I cut it whilst I was trying to break into this place." She said bashfully, but instead of Undertaker reprimanding her, he simply giggled.
"You are quite a clumsy girl aren't you? Cutting yourself, falling into coffins…" The Undertaker walked over to the counter by the wall, and disappeared down behind it for a moment. He appeared once more with a box of matches in hand, and candles in the other. Placing them on the counter, he struck a match and lit the candles one by one, illuminating the shop enough for both of their eyes to see easier. The Undertaker then got out several salves and bandages, and began stacking them in piles as he searched for the correct one. Felling awkward, the assassin decided to speak up.
"Esmeralda." The Undertaker looked up, startled, cocking his head to the side.
"I'm sorry, what was that love?" He asked, grinning widely again.
"Esmeralda. That's my name. You told me yours – it's only fair for me to return the gesture." The Undertaker smiled even wider, and beckoned her forward. "Well, Esmeralda, it's a pleasure to meet you." The assassin walked towards the man, and he took her hand in his, beginning to examine it. "Now, while I fix this up, mind telling me what you were doing in my shop in the first place?"