Eleanora was not fine. First of all, she was unceremoniously woken up by something breaking down her door and then trying to lunge at her throat, which refused to be killed until she had shot it through the head. And now she was running around a panic-filled cruise ship, trying to find out just what the hell was going on and how could she help.

Finding out what was going on was hard, mostly because absolutely no one on the whole ship seemed to know in the first place, but she had a vague suspicion that it was all the butler's fault, because he was a demon and she needed to blame someone and she was still very upset at him, never mind that most signs pointed to her dying on a huge, rotting piece of pleasure-cruise garbage.

But she tried not to think about that, because—somehow—miraculously—she was still alive and she was still armed to the teeth and still had enough of her wits about her to be able to shoot the strange blindfolded flesh-eaters in the head.

Her second problem—how she could help—was a bit less difficult to solve than the first problem, but it was still hard. For one thing, she wasn't sure just when she was going to run out of ammunition. And for another thing, eventually she was going to run out of steam and not be able to run anymore. And who knew how many of these flesh-eating bozos were still alive? And where were the young Master and that damned butler?

Well, the young Master had probably run off to make sure that the Lady Elizabeth was alright, which meant that he was probably around the first class rooms. She was running towards them, shooting as many blindfolded humans as she could on the way, when she turned a corner and ran right into…

"Grell Sutcliff," she gasped and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. "And that young punk. What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Grell said, grinning. "We're here to do our job!"

"I thought that you were doing your job, back in London. You know, all those noble killings?"

"Oh, those," Grell said, waving her hand aside. "That case was finished and closed by Scotland Yard a while ago!"

"Really? Why wasn't I informed?"

"You were informed! Remember? The Madam sent a letter to the young Master when you were in Hell, explaining how it all came about."

"I don't recall."

"Don't tell me you forgot about it entirely!"

"Of course I didn't! It's just that planning a !ing wedding does have a habit of pushing other things out of one's mind!...By the way, who did it?"

"I can't believe you don't remember that letter. It was that little whining brat…Oh, what's his name…"

"Ciel Phantomhive."

"No! The other one with the really dumb name…"

"Ciel Phantomhive."

"No!...Oh, that's right; it was Wallace W. Wallace."

"NO! Really?"

"Of COURSE not!...It was his father."

"REALLY?! How'd you figure that out?!"

"Well, after we rescued that kid's pathetic rear, Scotland Yard followed him home to make sure that he would get there alright, and then they discovered—but why am I explaining all this to you! I have bigger things to worry about!"

"Oh, right!" Eleanora said, suddenly remembering. "The young Master!" She reloaded her gun and prepared to leave. "Thank you for the wonderful explanation, Grell. It's as if you didn't make that up on the spot!"

"Of course I didn't make it up on the spot! It really happened! Really! And it was important!"

"Then why didn't you explain it to me earlier?"

"Because I figured that you already knew about it! And plus I had other, more important things to worry about!"

"Oh, really? Like what?"

"Like romantic subplot!" Grell said proudly.

"How in the hell do you get romantic subplot from something like this?"

"Oh, you foolish human girl—you can get romantic subplot from anything!"

"Even a cruise turned evil when people started going insane and started eating other people?"

"Actually, they're dead people coming back to insane life and eating other living people. And yes. Are you kidding me? That's where you get the most romantic subplots of all! And just between you and me…" Grell leaned in and started whispering, "I know exactly who's involved in this beautiful drama!"

"Really? Who?"

"Well, it involves a certain butler..."

Eleanora gasped.

"Really? But…But I thought that…" she leaned in as well, "I thought that the young Master liked girls?"

"…What? Of course he does!...Wait. Are you implying that…" Grell's eyes opened in horror at the thought. "Did you actually think that Bassy—"

"Well, I mean, it would explain a lot," Eleanora said defensively. "Particularly why that damned butler's hair always smells so nice. And why are you so upset about it? You'd think that, if he truly was like…that, and really did like…certain sexes, you'd be the one getting the most benefit out of it!"

"No, I would not! I'm a woman!...In spirit."

"That's right!" Ronald Knox said, to which the other two simultaneously told him to shut up.

"But why are we discussing the butler's preferred gender! How did we even get on this topic?"

"I told you—" Grell started, but the ship suddenly jerked and they all fell to the ground with the impact.

"Oh dear," Ronald said, flipping through his book. "It seems like things are going to get a little bit more interesting…"

"Why? What's going on? What's going to happen?" Eleanora asked, looking panicked.

"You see, that was just the iceberg that this ship was going to hit, right on schedule," he said.

"So…?"

"And so, this ship is going to sink within the hour."

Eleanora stared at him for a while.

"Well, !," she finally said and stood up.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Grell said.

"I have to go and find the young Master!"

"But where's my Bassy? Where's my love story!"

"Damned if I know!" Eleanora shouted over her shoulder and within seconds she had disappeared.

"You know, Miss Sutcliff," Ronald said slyly, "you don't need a butler to have a love story…"

"Later, Ronald—we have a job to do!...Just until I find my sweet love, that is…"

The two Reapers rose up and Ronald consulted his book.

"Well, then," he sighed. "Let's go."

And they ran off in the opposite direction of Eleanora's route.

Unlike the business-like attitude of Ronald Knox, Eleanora's mind had now started reeling. Everytime she shot one of the blindfolded humans, she felt sicker inside. It was different when she thought that they were alive—killing living people was easy. Killing dead people…? That was unnatural. They were dead. That was the point of being dead—to not come alive again!

And worst of all, the young Master was nowhere to be found: not in his room, not in Elizabeth's room, not in any room at all.

"Wonderful," she groaned and had to stop and rest for a bit. "Now where could they be?"

A living-dead person came around the corner and Eleanora shot him in the head. She was just about to do it again, for good measure, when she realized that she was now officially out of ammunition.

"Well…shit."