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Thorns of Deception	By : Elleyis Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 954 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, aka Kuroshitsuji or any of the character there in. Black Butler is the property of Yana

Chapter List
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The first soul to take notice of him was a woman adorned in crimson whose eyes and hair matched the color of her gown. Angela Duress, aka Madam Red was one of London’s most esteemed doctors, a prodigy of sorts as her data suggested in his lenses.
“And who might you be?” She asked the handsome devil standing before her in a sassy tone. Claude halted and instantly he recognized a familiar presence in her eyes. His years of wet work told him all he needed to know about the woman in front him and his intuition never failed. ‘Killer.’
Claude made a humble bow by placing one hand behind his back and offered the other to her. Gingerly she set her palm within it. “Claude Faustus, and what might the name of the charming lady before me be?” The woman slightly blushed and spoke, “Angela, Angela Duress.”
“Angela, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He kissed the back of her hand and rose to his proper stance. A rendition of Johann Sebastian Bach sonata number 2 began to play. “Lady Duress, do not think me forward but would you care to dance?”
Madame Red cleverly smiled, “A dance, but we have only just met Mr. Faustus. All I know is your name. Perhaps if we converse a little more I might then be more inclined to accept your offer.”
Claude gave a vulpine smile and smoothly chanted, “Where I am from the only language we speak is dance, if wish to know more Madame let us converse on the dance floor.”
Madame Red’s eyebrow slightly furrowed in curiosity as she considered her options. “Grell!” In a flash Mr. Stucliff clumsily stepped forward and appeared behind his mistress. He gave a demure bow and spoke in a timid voice, “Yes, milady?” Madame Red promptly pushed her red folding fan into his hand. “Make yourself useful hold this.” Another file automatically opened in the HUD of Claude’s glasses.
Grell Stucliff: Under cover MI5 operative: dispatch officer who has received high marks for execution and performance in the field of duty. Lacking self-control, discipline, restraint in combat situations. Weapon of choice Lazer chainsaw. Operative is currently assigned surveillance duties under the guise of being a butler. Threat level: Moderate….|
Stucliff looked at the man holding his master’s hand wondering just who he was. “Miss Duress,” Grell cupped his hand and whispered in her ear, “this fellow looks awfully suspicious.” Madame Red waved her overly cautious steward away and left him standing where he was as Claude led her to the center of ballroom. Grell made a worrisome frown as was left to hold the fan. Claude made a sweeping bow and Angela curtsied in return. He then place his right hand around the woman’s delicate waist and she her left hand upon his strong shoulder. The two entwined their free hands and began with a slow box waltz reserving their foot work here and there. The courtly pair soon glided across the ballroom floor gracefully turning and spinning in harmony to the lilting and ebbing tune. Claude twirled Angela with an inside turn then brought her back to his embrace. An outside turn was made and all manner of majestic amalgamations followed. Other couples gazed at the pair floating like will-o’-the-wisp across the polished floor.
Angela Duress found herself blushing somewhat when she realized the guest around them were watching in awe. No one was looking at her sister Racheal who was dancing with Vincent on the far of the side of the room, instead there attention was drawn to her.
“Madame, are you well?” A suave voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Hmm,” the woman’s focus returned to her partner, “why do ask that?”
“Your cheeks have flushed and your breath has quickened my lady. You are either unwell or I have a most curious effect on you. ”
Angela smirked, “I see. You’re quite the confident one.” “Naturally,” Claude replied, “Do you not consider yourself the same?”
Angela took a breath and modestly answered, “I am a doctor, I must be self-assured if I am to perform my line of work.”
“A doctor,” Claude recanted. “I see. Then you are talented indeed.”
Miss Duress swept her head to side trying to being casual. After a few more spins and twirls she spoke again. “Is sweet-talk one of your talents or do you flatter any woman you meet?”
Claude briefly closed his eyes and whispered to her. “Talent, flattery? My dear that has nothing to do with it, I am merely stating a fact.”
Angela smiled and blushed a little more. “You have a way words and waltz’s Mr. Faustus.”
“But of course, and if I may say,” the gentlemen lend in closer to her, ”vostè és absolutament impressionant.”
The lady furrowed her brow wondering what the mysterious man had said. Claude smiled, “It’s Catalan. It means you are absolutely stunning.” Angela Duress turned a deeper shade of red. Grell who was still standing across the room grumbled with jealously at the man who caused his master to so beautifully bloom his favorite color.
“So you are from Spain then,” she surmised.
“Partly, my mother was half Spanish and German and my father was Italian. I lived in Spain until I was twelve and then my family left for Italy.” Claude answered. “Shortly after my parents died. I went back to my home Spain and enlisted in the military.”
~~~

“Blech!” Jim stuck out his tongue disgusted at having to be subjected to the duet’s frilly chatter. He knew Claude was only using the dance as an opportunity to spy on others but could care less for the conversation thrumming through his earlobes. Claude was the only person he knew that could be center of attention yet remain completely inconspicuous. “Show off!” Jim popped a greasy chip covered with ketchup in his mouth and read through the list of names and faces that appeared on his holographic monitors.
In the corner of the room a man and with short black hair sat smoking a long pipe. Some petite thing with large breast and yellow eyes straddled his lap like a 5 year old sitting on a rocking horse.
Lau: Cantonese, Member of the Triad aka White Lotus Society. Thought to be the Dragon Head, leader of the organization. Suspected of extortion, laundering, smuggling, counterfeiting, and over 85% of England’s illegal opium trade. Proficient in various martial arts and use of saber.

Threat Level: Moderate…|
Ran Mao: Cantonese, Member of Triad, aka White Lotus Society. Lau’s personal assassin and body guard. Thought to be key suspect in over 15 homicides involving victims dying of severe internal hemorrhaging sustained by blunt force trauma. Skilled in various marital arts and clubs.

Threat Level: Moderate…|
A foreign noble standing next to table made a blusterous laugh as he balanced glasses filled with wine over his shoulder and head. His guardian wasn’t too pleased by the acrobatic show but allowed his master his fun.
Soma Asman Kadar: Prince of Bengal, heir to the Kadar throne. Currently attending Weston University. Estimated net worth 389 million pounds.

Threat Level: Unknown…|
Agni: Servant, bodyguard, and attendant to Prince Soma Asman Kadar.

Threat Level: Unknown…|
Jim made a note mental note of hacking into the Kadar’s fat bank accounts as his next challenge.
The Viscount of Druitt was a piece of work. His rap sheet included human trafficking and a host of heinous things but what really caught Jim’s attention was the information in regards to Vincent Phantomhive. More accurately the lack thereof. His wife’s and servant, Tanaka’s information checked out but there was little to be found on them other than surface data.
“Hmm,” the code breaker pulled up an advanced DOS window on his terminal while dawning his VRIU (Virtual Reality integration unit). A visor that resembled teched-out snowboarder goggles began to light up with all kinds of 3-d information. Soon the boy found himself in the center of a black room illuminated by colorful spheres of light. Each one had an encryption wall constantly fluctuating with geometric shapes. The avatar of his body was irradiated by a pinkish glow of light. With great speed Jim began decoding a hidden level of security that wrapped in the most complex of algorithms.
He took himself off mute and opened his private channel linking to his partner in the field. “Claude, I hate to break your little engagement, but I may have found something.” The sophisticated gentleman was still engaged in his masquerade of wooing the lady in red. He simply blinked to acknowledged receipt of the kid’s message since he could not openly speak.
The cyberpunk continued to crack coding. “There is a highly classified data sphere within MI6’s central tower. It has something to do with Earl of Phantomhive and is marked Watchdog. Whatever it is, the Royal Family doesn’t seem to want anybody knowing about it. It may contain information on Black Rose, better yet the whereabouts of Bluebell. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime keep an eye Vincent Phantomhive, and while I am at it, try not to make me hurl with all that flirting crap.”
Claude didn’t bother to blink. The last interlude of notes and chords faded away and with a final dip of Miss Duress they finished the dance. A round of applause crashed through the room like a wave crashing against rock. The man lifted his partner from her inverted pose, then bowed to her as the clapping continued. Madame Red curtsied again with her chest robustly rising and falling from the exhilaration of it all. Claude took her hand again and they bowed and curtsied to acknowledge the audience before leading Madame Red off the floor.
The adulation and praise slowly died away and the guest returned to their socializing and drinking. Claude and Angela stowed away in private corner of the room to enjoy a drink by themselves. Shortly after Racheal and Vincent appeared. “Good evening, that was quite a show you two put on,” said the genial man dress in black with a dark red cravat. Racheal chimed in as well, “It was marvelous indeed.”
Miss Duress was the first speak. “Mr. Faustus I would like to introduce to my kin. This is my dear sister Racheal and her husband Vincent Phantomhive.”
Claude courtly bowed, “it is my great honor to meet you Lady Racheal and Sir Vincent.”
“Claude is a self-made man, an entrepreneur from Naples,” Angela exclaimed. She was more excited than usual and the color in her cheeks still hadn’t faded away. Racheal joyfully regarded her sister’s cheery mood, and mulled over whether or not to leave their sister be. It wasn’t very often Angela was this merry, especially after the death of her husband and unborn child. The decision was made for Racheal instead when her husband pulled out a chair for his darling wife to be seated.

Jim’s avatar floated freely through the various layers of the data sphere. It had been a long time since he had this fun much. The challenge of decrypting the files before him was a game of sorts. One he could be said to be the master off. The cyberspace dweller could still hear the mundane talk of elites seated at Claude’s table while his finger instinctive flew across the keyboard. Blah, blah, blah, was what he mostly heard for next 20 minutes. A few more moments later and the cyberpunk broke through the last layer of protection. ‘CAKE!’

A flurry of information popped into Claude’s lenses as chit chat between the four continued. Vincent was a marked man. The eyes of the Queen of England had fallen ill upon him. The information was worth noting, but it was no concern to him. Claude had another target in mind. His current client was paying more than double his price, and the price of doing business with him was considered by most to be astronomically high. At any rate there was no reason for him to be involved in the Queen’s plots or schemes. Vincent raised his glass in a toast to the evening festivities, where upon the Claude made an invisible smirk and raised his glass of champagne as well.
Clink.

~~~
The data was lame. The boy expected to find something a bit more exciting. A prototype of a new nano-unit that was capable of being integrated into living tissue, a list of English spies working abroad, or some off the wall proof of selective genetic mutation. But the file contained the typical assassination of a major operative. ‘Boring.’
The sensors in his VRIU lit up like fireworks on New Year’s Eve. “What this?’ The boy switched himself into infrared mode, which caused his avatar to be shadowed in black and illuminated by varying hues. Then to UV causing him to become invisible but give off neon pulses of violet. In this UV mode another invisible layer of data was di. The configurations fluctuating around the wall was ten times as fast and complex as the one before. The boy tried to touch it but a powerful field knocked his avatar back and sent an excruciating migraine through his skull in the real world.
“Uaagghhh! Fuck!” His turquoise eyes widened and bulged with rage. The last thing he saw before the system booted him out completely was the word, RUAM. Then some bi-hair colored chibi face of a man giving him the finger and underneath it was a logo that said Knox. Jim grit his teeth, someone in MI6 was actually capable of doing their job. The infuriated boy executed his best hacking program. A secondary avatar of Jim appeared, one he affectionately named Alois. Jim pulled a small vile of red liquid out of his black cargo pant’s pocket then took a contraption that resembled a small hand gun and injector from the side one. He set the vile in the into the holding chamber and pressed the injector to his neck. The sound of liquid being squeezed through a small hole under pressure followed when the boy pulled the trigger. “Uha,” The Alois avatar began to glow an ominous shade of red. “Alright Knox,” they echoed in unison, “I accept your challenge!”
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Thorns of Deception