The Beginning And The End

The Beginning And The End



Warnings: Eventual Mprg, AR(Means it’s the canon universe but I change what I want to suit my purposes) The undertaker is a shinigami in this as in the anime and is not a member of noble families as in the manga. Commissioned by Jennablackfox



Part Two



Vincent sat in his small drawing room awaiting his so called partner in his search to find the as of yet unnamed villain he was assigned by the queen to dispose of with as much haste as he could manage. In his journey to complete the task given, he’d somehow managed to partner himself with a strange man. Hidden eyes and large smile gave him quite the strange appearance, though he seemed to be on the up when it came to his information.



Vincent wasn’t the type to take everything at its face value when obtained from sources he couldn’t verify. As such, he’d gone about having what he’d gleaned from Alastair Allegro confirmed by his own sources. Some weren’t the most reputable but favors were owed and he collected them easily. A missive here and there only served to confirm what his gut told him was the truth from mysterious lips.



Alastair Allegro didn’t exist but his information was completely accurate, or as much so as inferred information could be. Their killer was targeting homosexual men either before or after their sexual meetings with others. It was undetermined of which as no witnesses were revealed to exist according to Scotland Yard. One would think the victims’ lovers had already departed or the lover was the murderer. The complete answer to that question wouldn’t be revealed until the serial murderer was taken down once and for all.



It also didn’t alleviate Alastair Allegro of guilt either. For all Vincent could tell given what he knew at this moment in time, Alastair could very well be the murderer. This could be a clever ploy to throw off Scotland Yard and Queen Victoria’s attempts to keep the murders hidden from public view. If it turned out to be so, Vincent would do his duty to bring the queen’s justice to Alastair Allegro.



“My lord? Mr. Allegro has arrived.” Tanaka stood patiently awaiting his orders as he’d been trained to do since he was a young man.



“Bring him to me. He and I have much to discuss.” Vincent brushed aside any wayward thoughts and schooled his face into a pleasant but neutral mask. Hiding his true emotions was something he’d learned early on. It now came to him as easily as breathing.



“Did you miss me?” Alastair glided casually across the room and settled himself familiarly in the chair adjacent to Vincent. “I trust you enjoyed your time backtracking to verify what I told you. Time wasted but one such as you need that sort of thing don’t them. You can’t stand to trust others.”



“Trusting others will only serve to place a knife in the back.” Vincent sipped the tea from a cup placed near his elbow.



“A physical knife or a metaphorical one?” The grin was in place as usual. Strangely, Vincent found himself growing used to the face. Even with the glasses firmly in place, the man was attractive as men went. His face was a little on the pale, but such looks tended to be in fashion in France and so in London as well.



“Take your pick,” answered Vincent with a shrug.



“But don’t you wonder which one would hurt the most? The physical hurts sharply but fades as the body heals…or dies. The metaphorical one hurts for years to come, a more stinging pain to the conscience or the ego than anything a physical attack could rival. When death comes in the years following the attack, the bearer still feels the sting. I wonder does the wielder of that knife take enjoyment in knowing their mark was forever scarred on the person.” Alastair tilted his head in contemplation. “An interesting theory, don’t you think?”



Vincent shrugged his shoulders. “You’re not here to discuss philosophy though, are you?”



The smile never dropped or faded in the slightest. Vincent oft times wondered if such determined smiles were a sign of a mask or something deeper. This man maintained a cheerful demeanor despite all his dry or ribald comments. His personality was more on par with nobility than the peasant crowd populating the majority of Great Britain. Strange, he’d never given thought to Alastair Allegro’s parentage until now. It didn’t really matter, yet he couldn’t stop the vein of curiosity from being opened and spilling out its urges into his mind. Probably the bastard son of some country noble--educated and set out into the world to find his way in a society uncaring for the livelihood of noble spawn.



“Ah, but philosophy holds a wealth of interest to those who care to think beyond the realms of the physical. Apparently you are not one who deals in such thoughts unless they pertain directly to you. A common trait amongst nobles, it seems. Such a shame. Philosophy is applicable in all walks of life.” Alastair shook his head in feigned despair before lifting his hidden eyes to Vincent’s. “Now that you know of my accurate information, shall we get down to business?”



Vincent balanced his delicate cup on one hand, admiring the frail piece. “I have one question before we move on to more important details.”



“And that is?”



He smiled faintly, setting aside his cup and facing the man in order to read his reaction to the question he was about to ask. “Are you the man we seek?”



If anything, the smile on the man’s face seemed to grow in width. “Alas, I must disappoint you of an easy claim to the queen’s complete favor. I am not who we both seek. Sadly, neither of us will get off that easily I’m afraid. Though, I’m impressed that you asked. What would you have done if I’d said yes?”



Vincent considered the question for what it was worth. “I would have taken you in as was appropriate.”



Wider still. “And if I resisted?”



“What’s the point of this? For the mean time I will take you word that you are not the perpetrator of these heinous acts and leave it at that.” Vincent glared at man who obviously wasn’t going to let it go.



Alastair settled back in his chair, cocking his head to one side while observing Vincent. “Answer the question and I’ll let it go.”



“By the Saints…If you answered yes and resisted I would use force to restrain you.” Vincent intensified his glare. “Satisfied.”



“Not yet. But I’m sure you’ll take care of that eventually.” Alastair sighed heavily. “We’ll need to draw out our man. I’m afraid I’m known to him so you’ll have to be the bait.”



“Pardon me?” Vincent could stop the look of surprise from washing across his face. “I refuse to be the bunt of sexual overtures by drunken men.”



Alastair reached a hand over to pat a crossed knee. “Why such a face? I know I promised we would be lovers but I‘ve been alerted of my presence having been detected by our quarry. I‘m afraid there is nothing we can do. He will be very watchful for one such as me.”



“And how am I supposed to know who he is? For all I can tell, they are all the same.” Vincent swept away the hand from his knee. The touch distracted him, making his body heat uncomfortably.



Alastair sighed dejectedly. “Oh, trust me. This one will be unable to resist you. You might think it strange but you’ll know him almost on sight. He’ll completely blend in until he approaches you. You won’t even feel him coming until he’s on you. I suppose you could use me as a template, though I believe I have the better sense of humor.”



“And how do I go about meeting him? Stand on a corner as a common whore and hope he shows up before I kill someone myself?” Vincent was quite incensed by this point in the conversation.



“I believe he tends to frequent those places none speak of but all know exists. We’ll set up shop in one of these taverns. He lures the lonely men seeking physical comfort and takes them to a hotel,” offered Alastair.



“So he is the lover.” Vincent had leaned towards that particular conclusion, though the other possibility couldn’t be ruled out either without knowing the lovers of the victims.



“Hmm, indeed. But I’m uncertain if he is a lover to them or if he kills them before the actual act. I’ve not been privy to that such knowledge.” Alastair tapped his fingers on the wooden arms of the wingback chair. “It could be he desires men but afterwards feels guilty. It could also mean he has some deep set hatred for men of that ilk. It truly is a sad deal.”



Vincent waved his hand in annoyance. “I don’t care about his reasons for murdering these men but only for the fact he brought the notice of the queen.”



“Is that your only feeling on the matter? It makes me wonder things.” Alastair pursed his lips for a moment in thought before sitting back calmly.



“What could it possibly make you wonder?”



Alastair’s lips parted in an almost feral grin. “Many things but it will have to wait until later, I’m afraid. Our prey is on the hunt tonight and I fear he will provide us with quiet a difficult catch.”



“You know him, don’t you? Personally.” Vincent leveled Alastair with a gaze.



“Ah, so you do believe me. It leaves me particularly warm to know you trust has been earned by my heartfelt words.” Alastair leaned in so their faces aligned and his hidden eyes gazed deeply into Vincent’s. “Or is it you hope it isn’t me for reasons all your own, perhaps some dark perverted fantasy where your amour isn’t all soft and round as is popular.”



“You go too far, sir.” Vincent stood sharply and strode towards the fire place with the hope of hiding the flaring blush singeing his cheeks with telltale color. “Just answer the question.”



Lean shoulders shrugged and the well dressed frame leaned back into the plush chair. “As you wish. I know him. He once worked under me. You could even say I was his mentor though I doubt our relationship could ever be construed as one of mentor/student. It was more aptly one of less pleasant company. He sought to surpass me in my duties and sadly fell short in many ways.”



“How do you know it’s the same person?” Vincent turned his gaze from the flames and onto his companion.



“We were partners for a long while. One grows to understand the workings of the other if they care to observe. He was easy to learn. Messy and tormented by his desires. None of our ilk would ever turn our back to one who preferred the same sex should they keep their proclivities confined to the bedchamber and not let it interfere with the job as a whole. Michael couldn’t understand that and it drove him mad. He began to despise himself for his preferences and the result is what you now have to deal with. Apologies.” Alastair lifted his hand and adjusted his glasses over his eyes.



Vincent didn’t need to see his eyes to know his mood had transformed from playful to serious. He understood what it was to hunt an associate. “What’s the plan to deal with him?”



“I’ll watch from the shadows. He’s good, but I’m better. He won’t know I’m around. He won’t be able to resist you.”



Vincent forced himself to swallow the nervous lump having formed in his throat. “Why is that?”



Alastair’s lips quirked in a now familiar manner which led Vincent to realize the other was amused. “Because he was never good at turning away pretty things.”



The flush across his high cheekbones was back in full force. He’d been told he was attractive by hundreds of women seeking a way into his favor in order to snag him as their husband. It had never fazed him, and he’d simply acknowledged the compliment for what it was. Coming from a man and not just any man, but this man; it felt different in so many ways. He felt warm shivers rushing through him and stirring parts he would rather remain unexcited.



The nervousness and excitement boiling in him made speech a frightful thing. He couldn’t bear the thought of sounding weak before him. He couldn’t let him see just how a few simple words tilted his world on end and sent him careening into an abyss. Perhaps silence was an even more dangerous option. Given his predicament, he forced back the emotions and replaced his mask. “When do we leave?”



“Nervous? There is no need. I’ll be watching you every moment. You won’t know it, but I won’t miss a thing.” Alastair stood and shook out the tails of his jacket. “Here is the address of a place you should go. Order a drink but keep your bangs in your face. It will help obscure your identity until he spots you.”



Alastair lifted his hands to adjust the hair so that it obscured Vincent’s eyes and the noticeable beauty mark at the corner of his left eye. His hands moved deftly and with determination, but it also gave Vincent a chance to observe him. Even with the glasses keeping his eyes hidden from view, he struck and amazing visage. His skin was smooth--almost perfection. Up close, he didn’t even look human. There was some aura of danger surrounding him that his beauty only made all the more potent.



It was exciting to Vincent because of his own dangerous nature. His attractive face and genteel presence might throw off most of his fellow nobles, but he was a deadly as any assassin. He needed to be for the simple reason being the queen’s watchdog was more than a title and access to things others might not be privy too. One needed to be willing to get dirty in order to follow through with many of the things required of him. It was oft times not a pleasant duty but it allowed him to be favored by Her Majesty. Such a position could be very useful.



“Now then, go summon your coach.”



Vincent eyed Alastair through his hidden face. “You’re sure I will know him when I see him.”



Alastair’s lips turned upward in a smile. “Oh definitely. You won’t miss him.”



Those words preceded Alastair leaving the Phantomhive residence upon accepting his hat and coat from Tanaka. A quick wave and the door shut behind him with a resounding click. It was a moment of truth for Vincent--and trust.



“Tanaka, summon my carriage. I’m going out.” Vincent disappeared in his study for a money clip and his pistol. He might trust Alastair enough to allow his assistance, but he didn’t trust him alone. One should never leave their defense up to others. He slid the pistol into a hidden pocket beneath his jacket and smirked. With his pistol and his hidden rapier in his walking cane, he felt much more willing to risk his life in the name of the queen.



He growled out the address to his driver and stepped into the coach. The man didn’t blink at the location despite it being an area known for the less than desirable lot. He was used to receiving strange locations from his master. Being who he was, even his need to keep his name from the mud was occasionally discarded in favor of a particular necessity.



The velvet seats felt stiff beneath him. The gentle sway of movement did little to calm his nervous energy, nor did the clop of hooves against the cobblestone offer the usual comfort. It was the same as before any great event. The world seemed to slow and nothing offered any sort of soothing reprieve.



The carriage stuttered to a halt before the desired location. It wasn’t quite as shady in appearance as he’d thought. His coachman looked down from his seat atop the vehicle. “I’ll be just across the street, my lord.”



The gruff man tipped his hat and maneuvered the carriage towards a clear bit of street. Vincent nodded and moved towards the entry. Since Alastair had left his home, he’d not seen one trace of the man. If he was keeping his word and only hiding, he was doing so with much more finesse than Vincent expected. In fact, he was practically a ghost.



He shook away thoughts of his partner and glanced about the establishment he’d entered. It was smoke filled. To the casual eye, one might think it simply a normal pub. Men were scattered across the interior, talking quietly amongst themselves or in small groups of no more than three or four. It was the occasional sight of kissing or touching. Such actions could never be seen in public. Such relationships were frowned upon, not only by the church but also by society as a whole. They were known, just not accepted.



Vincent wasn’t quite sure how Alastair hoped he would draw the killer from the shadows. There was nothing to do but approach the bar and appear a natural customer. “Scotch.”



“Yes, sir. You’ve never been here before have you?” The bartender attempted to make conversation to Vincent. He wasn’t recognized at first glance--a small victory at least.



“No. I’ve never been here.” His voice sounded husky in his ear. He wondered if it was subconscious or just his mind playing tricks on him in this new environment. “I’m a bit nervous.”



“Ah. No need for that. The lot here are a pleasant group. You don’t have to go off with anyone. If you do decide to go off with someone, have a gander over here. I’ll let you know if he’s of the good sort.” The bartender poured a second finger of scotch into his glass to which he was grateful for. He’d just downed the glass when a body slid in beside him. A glance through the shadow of his bangs had him reeling at the beauty of the man seated beside him. The glasses he wore reminded him of Alastair, yet instead of shaded, they allowed him to take in stunning emerald eyes. His hair was short but fell in long mahogany wisps around his face. He could easily be a fallen angel or a devil as the case might be.



Despite the beauty, there was some raw untamed anger seething beneath the surface. This was his man. There was no denying. Alastair had been correct in that he would know him on sight. No man looked so perfect. Already his presence had drawn the eyes of many of the pub patrons. Even Vincent couldn’t say he was completely immune.



“Good evening. I don’t recognize you. Are you new to London?” The voice was just as beautiful as his body. It was no wonder the men had allowed him to woo them into complacency.



“I spend most of my time in the country. I’m only in London for a few days before returning home.” Vincent answered smoothly; proud his voice didn’t give away his intentions.



“Ah, I myself am only newly arrived to the town. It offers much I can not resist. Might I buy you another drink? You looked so sad drinking alone; I thought I might join you.” He gestured to the bartender with a finger and tossed a coin on the counter. The man looked unsettled by the stranger but did as commanded and placed another glass, promptly pouring two fingers of scotch in each.



Vincent raised his glass to his prey, fighting the urge not to drink. Two was his limit while in such a situation. More impaired his senses more than he liked. When he felt a hand drift down his side to stroke along his wool clad thigh, he felt no desire to pull away under the touch. This man’s beauty was a siren’s call to his body. His mind was too fuzzed by the surprisingly strong liquor. Pubs tended to water down their product, apparently not this particular one.



“Come with me. I’ll take you to height’s you’ve never witnessed.”



He wanted to say no. He needed a moment to regain control over his quickly wavering mind. Instead he found himself nodding and allowing the man to usher him through the tables and chairs towards the doors.



“I know a pleasant hotel not far from here. We can take as long as we need.” A hand settled at the base of his spine, guiding him towards an alley where he stumbled over uneven cobblestones.



He shouldn’t be this upturned from three drinks. Even if they were of the strongest liquor imaginable, he should have more control than this. A thought occurred to him. His drink had been drugged. Did the man really need to do such a thing to acquire prey or was it just to make him more complacent for murder?



“Just a little farther.” Their steps clattered loudly through the alleyway until a hand shoved Vincent against the mildew coated wall. The stench in the alley pushed past the drugged state. If he smelt it in such a state, he could only imagine how rank it would be were his senses not impaired.



Lips covered his and hands ran down his body, cupping his crotch with desperate fingers. Vincent couldn’t help but moan into the mouth tasting faintly of licorice and scotch. Until that moment, the only man he’d kissed had been Alastair. He found himself falling into a fantasy where the lips devouring him were another’s. His body, mildly interested before, jumped into excitement at the mental image of Alastair. Mysterious Alastair with his hidden eyes and humorous tone.



“Ah, you are delicious. It’s a pity you will have to suffer. But the queen has been too good about hiding my declarations. I’m afraid I’m going to need to step up the game. I would have liked a better taste but in an alley, there isn’t enough time.” Fingers lifted to trace across Vincent’s jaw in an almost reverent gesture. “The defiled must be destroyed before they can spread their filth.”



Vincent reached out a hand as the man stepped away from him. He longed for more touch. He wanted back the fantasy the words had torn from him. “Wait.”



Green eyes widened and madness seemed to take over, contorting his once beautiful face into an almost demonic visage. He snarled at Vincent’s slack face. “You seek to defile me. You want me to bring me to your sickening level. I will not allow it. You will be an example to all those tainted with filth, spreading it like worms.”



Vincent’s head reeled at the slap following the madness tinged words. His body toppled over and slammed into the hard cobblestones beneath. His palms scrapped in an attempt to catch himself. The pain was sobering enough for him to pull back from the drug induced euphoria. His hand automatically reached in his jacket pocket for the tucked away gun.



He lifted it to point directly at the man’s heart. The sight of the weapon only sent him into peels of laughter. “Do you really think such a human weapon can take me down? Sure it would hurt but I’m more resilient than that.”



“Perhaps for him. But not for me.” Alastair stepped easily from the shadows. “You do remember me don’t you, Michael?”



“You! They would send you. You used this little bait to lure me out? You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him.” Flashing green eyes glared in Alastair’s direction, all interest in Vincent lost in favor of the newcomer.



“I did. I’m actually glad you chose to assault him here. It saves me the trouble of dealing with close quarters. If I recall, your scythe was modified to appear as a rapier. Mine is physically unchanged and as such, takes up quite a bit of space.



Alastair’s hand extended and a large silver scythe was revealed. He took a few practice swings to test the weight before moving quickly to attempt and reap Michael before he was aware.



The other was quick and nimbly dodged the attack, drawing his scythe molded into the shape of a rapier. “You’re so predictable, Alastair. You might be management level but you are still the same. You might have thought I never paid attention to your abilities and skills but I was filing away everything I could for the day I knew would come when I would attack you. And don’t think I’m out of tricks. You and I haven’t worked together in quite a while.”



Michael withdrew from the end of his scythe a long chain. He twirled it menacingly before throwing his rapier towards Alastair. It was easily dodged but that wasn’t the point of the attack. It was just a showing of his abilities.



“You modified your scythe again. If I hazarded a guess, I would imagine you did it without authorization.”



“What does it matter? I’m a rogue shinigami. I don’t need to ask permission from my masters like some slave. My scythe can do much more than this. Would you like to witness it?” He charged Alastair, his weapon landing in spray of sparks against Alastair’s scythe.



“You should turn yourself in. You might be allowed some mercy.” Alastair swiped upward, only to miss once more.



Michael released a few tsks while swinging his rapier on its chain. “I don’t think so. I’ll destroy you and be considered one of the more powerful shinigami.”



Alastair charged, only to have Michael move quickly to the side and loop his chain around the other’s neck. The force of the motion sent Alastair to the ground and his scythe clattering to the ground.



While Alastair attempted to recover his breath, Michael tightened the chain with choking force. “You’ve grown old and stuck in your ways. Now I’ll choke you into oblivion.”



The chains tightened to such a degree that the pinching metal cut deeply into Alastair’s neck. His hands reached up in an attempt to create even the tiniest fraction of breathing room. A normal chain wouldn’t cause this much damage, but a shinigami’s scythe could injure and kill another shingami. It made it an especially dangerous weapon.



“Gah…”



“What was that? Oh, that was the sound of your impending death. I’m so going to enjoy this. Perhaps I’ll leave your head for the shinigami to admire.” Michael’s hands tightened on the chain, ready to deal the final blow when a loud gunshot echoed in the alley.



Vincent, finally over the shock of what he was seeing, lifted his gun and fired it at the man choking Alastair. The body jerked as the ball entered the upper chest. A scream of pain erupted through the alley and the chain loosened enough for Alastair to breathe.



His hands quickly removed the chain from his burning neck as pain riddled coughs wracked his slumped body. Vincent stumbled to his feet, raising the pistol towards the shinigami now slowly standing from where he’d stumbled under the attack.



“You shouldn’t have done that. It fucking hurts to be injured, even if it won’t kill me.” Michael retrieved his dropped weapon and charged towards Vincent. Before he could react, Alastair was parrying the attack. Instead of slashing Vincent’s head, it instead slashed across Alastair’s face to create a deep wound.



Almost immediately, a cinematic record began playing which caused Alastair to growl in anger. His hand reached up and plucked the book from before their eyes and tossed it away where it faded to be sent to the main library.



“Spoil sport. A shame really. I wonder what ghosts haunt your past and I must say the scar is amazingly attractive. It suits your, Alastair. It really is a shame you have to die now.” Michael lifted his weapon, ready to plunge it through Alastair’s heart when Vincent’s cane hidden sword slid easily into the rogue shinigami’s chest. It didn’t kill him, only shocked him enough for Alastair to quickly take up his scythe and slash deeply into Michael’s chest.



The scream erupting from Michael was different. Not only was there pain in it, but it also contained fear. There was death and much anger.



“Bastard.” Michael fell to his knees. “But I think I’ll give one last laugh. For old times sake. Maybe you’ll find it amusing as I will in the afterlife.”



Michael used every bit of his remaining strength and plunged his scythe into Vincent’s abdomen. The world seemed to freeze around them. Alastair moved like lightening, beheading Michael much as Michael did to his victims.



Vincent stumbled backwards towards the wall, extracting the weapon and pressing his hand to his rapidly bleeding stomach. “Al…Alastair….”



He gasped out and was caught before he reached the ground as his knees gave out and the world went black.



To be continued…



AN: I"m participating in NaNoWriMo this month so updates will probably be pretty sporadic this month due to that. Afterwards, they should come pretty quickly if I don\'t get much done during NOv. Thanks for reading and comments are welcome and appreciated.