Work Text:
November 14, 1889
London, 12:24 AM
The full moon shines down onto the streets of London, the hustle and bustle of the day having become quiet just a few hours before. The whole of the city, for the most part, has long gone to bed along with the lamplighters. There are a few beggars on the various corners throughout the city, and a handful of policemen scouring the streets for any trouble that may occur under the dark blanket of night. On the surface, the city is a fairly good place to reside or wander around, at the very least. But underneath it all, there’s just the few handfuls that have seen and know what lies beneath. The dark underworld of the city hidden from most prying eyes, and for those that bear witness to it... Well, who’s to say. It’s case-by-case, in some instances, what happens to them after the fact.
Silent to the beggars and policemen below, a lone figure swiftly jumps from rooftop to rooftop, seemingly unaware of anything else except the full moon. Their black-rimmed glasses glisten in the dim light as they seemingly defy gravity and move along through the skyline of the city, their phosphorescent eyes the only other thing glowing besides the moon and the streetlights below.
Eventually they pause, looking down to the cobblestone roads from the roof of a four-story building. Their eyes narrow as they watch a poor young beggar woman get stopped by a policeman on the road, and they watch her quickly bolt away from him. With their vision, they can see the glimmer of a shimmering necklace in the woman’s hands; an expensive one without a doubt. But before the woman can even get a few feet away, the policeman pulls out a gun and shoots a few times at her. She must have been someone wanted for other crimes if the man shot at her so instantly after trying to make her escape. Oh well, they internally suppose they’ll find out soon enough, once they take a look at the woman’s cinematic record.
Once the officer is out of sight, the reaper hops down from the roof as swiftly as a bird and down to the cobblestone with almost no noise, minus the small disturbance of the wind from the jump down. They adjust the black blazer that lays around their shoulders as they kneel down to the poor woman bleeding out in the streets. Her blood pools around her and into the cracks of the cobblestone as the reaper unsheathes a pair of long, sharp shears from the belt of their black skinny dress pants. Their death scythe of choice, approved by the Administrative Division, of course. They inspect their tool for a moment before they pierce it into the heart of the deceased.
No blood pools from the point of impact, instead a glowing blue light emits from it as film reels begin to escape the opening caused by the shears. The reaper fidgets with the golden mourning ring on their middle finger as they observe the cinematic record playing before them. They study every frame in exquisite detail, not missing a single moment to make sure there isn’t anything important to note. The film reels continue to flow as they pull a black notebook and pen from their back pants pocket, flipping to a particular page.
Their voice is low, monotone, as they review the file on their book page. “Magdalena Welsh. Born September 17th, 1857 at 11:19 AM to Ivy Bartley and Nels Welsh. Died November 14th, 1889 at 12:26 AM due to three fatal bullets to the back. Nothing of importance to note.” They flip their pen around, the other end of it being a stamp, and they press it against the crisp page outlining Magdalena on the To-Die List. The word ‘completed’ is now on the page in a deep red once the stamp is removed, and the reaper withdraws their shears from the body shortly after. The action causes the blue light coming from the body to dissipate, along with her cinematic record. Once the light is gone, the reaper sighs and pockets their To-Die List and shears. Unless something changes-which they hope it doesn't-, this is their last soul collection for the evening.
It’s only then that the reaper stands, and actually looks around at where they are. Their jaw locks in place, eyes narrowing as they look across the cobblestone street to view what building is before them.
The dark wood door is becoming slightly rotted now, the parallel glass panes on the door broken slightly in a few places. There is no longer any display of craftsmanship placed just outside the door like there used to be, and it seems a spider made itself right at home along the brass doorknob leading inside the now deserted building. Interesting though, that the stone sign reading “Undertaker” just above the door is still in place. If he no longer resides here, then why was-
“Lee Stoker.”
The reaper whips around, one of their hands immediately going to their shears as their phosphorous green eyes pierce daggers into whoever spoke their name. Lee relaxes after a moment of realizing who it is that seemingly appeared, letting out a soft breath of relief.
“William. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
William T. Spears, a reaper in the Management Division of the Grim Reaper Dispatch. He always stands so refined in a slate black suit, square glasses framing his green eyes and his face with short, slicked back raven hair. Tonight is no different. He strolls toward Lee rather smoothly, pushing up his glasses some in the process. “Just purely wanting to assess your soul collecting for the evening.”
Lee sighs, setting a gloved hand to their hip. “Then I’m afraid you’ve come too late, as I’ve collected my last soul for the evening...” They raise a brow though, shifting their weight. “Unless that’s changed...? You know I dislike working overtime as much as the next reaper. You included.”
Anyone could tell William is stifling a smile, wanting to keep up his serious demeanor every moment he is around anyone. Even Lee, apparently. “I’m aware of that-“
“Then why, exactly, are you here? And late, no less, if assessing my collecting for the night really was your mission here. Especially if the Management or Personnel Division instructed you to do so.”
There’s a pause between the two reapers for a moment, before he speaks a response. “... I’m aware this is the anniversary of your mortal demise, and that it’s almost never an easy day for you. I... As your colleague, I wanted to check in on you.”
How like William, to call himself a “colleague” instead of a friend. Lee sets a hand in their pants pocket, looking back to the Undertaker sign behind them and away from the other reaper. “That was exactly eighty years ago, William. I work on the day every year in particular to try and keep my mind off of it.” They sigh, observing every little crack in the stone signage before them. “Though it’s hard, despite it being so long ago, as I mentioned...” It isn’t very often that they think back to their mortal life, but the anniversary of their death definitely brings up the thought. They fidget once more with the mourning ring on their finger.
“Which is precisely why I’m here, Lee. Though I must admit, you’ve been doing a fine job at keeping your emotions out of your work as of late. Unlike some other reapers I know...” He shakes his head, following Lee’s gaze up to the stone sign. “And hopefully that doesn’t interfere with such a large mission currently taking place.”
Lee glances over at William, a small smirk on their features. “It’s just us, you’re more than welcome to call out Ms. Sutcliff if you so choose to.” They chuckle lightly and softly, shifting their weight from one foot to the other. They ignore his statement about keeping their emotions out of their work, though. Lee tries their best, but it’s hard to not have a bit of humanity shine through. Especially given recent events… “So, the rumors going around dispatch are true, then. About the Phantomhives and that entire situation with 136649...” They shudder a little, remembering their encounter with those... things, having been dubbed under the fitting name of “bizarre dolls.”
William sighs, adjusting his square glasses once again with gloved hands. “Yes, the claims you’ve been hearing are true. And it could get messy, considering Grell is indeed involved, along with another reaper from forensics. We may need to get involved also at some point down the line, depending on how the mission carries along. Which could mean overtime for us...”
Lee shoots a look at him warily, eyebrows furrowed. “We?”
William lets out a breath through his nose, eyes closing. “Yes, I said “we.” I know some months back I suspended you from being overly involved in this absolute mess, after that personal investigation you tasked yourself with after I told you no, but we- No, I may need you for this.”
Silence falls between the pair, before Lee finally sighs, keeping their gaze towards William and not particularly wanting to look back at the building before them. The thought of involving themself in this situation once again could potentially prove useful, but encountering him again, after everything… “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see, then. I have a feeling Ms. Sutcliff might make matters a little messy as you mentioned, especially with that demon involved with the Phantomhive boy as well...” It isn’t a yes, but it's not a no either.
William nods once, turning away from Undertaker’s abandoned parlor and taking a few steps away. “Yes, I do suppose you’re right about that. It’s a waiting game, but we’ll be ready if or when the time comes. Hopefully, you will be too if it comes to that.”
Lee doesn’t respond, instead looking down to the mourning ring on their finger, more memories of their mortal life flooding their mind... Back when they were called Eileen, instead of just Lee.
William looks back to Lee, sighing upon seeing them not follow him and looking down to their ring instead. For once, he allows himself to show a bit of sympathy for his companion. “Be happy your loved one’s not in your current position. That they’re at peace, instead.”
Lee nods, looking up to William as he places a hand on their shoulder. “Let’s get you back to dispatch, Lee. You need rest, I can tell. We aren’t demons after all, we do require sleep.”
They chuckle somewhat at that, though it’s half-hearted. “Yes, I know you’re right... Thank you, for looking out for me tonight. And every day, I suppose, in that regard. Considering you are a part of the Management Division, after all.”
William adjusts his glasses, looking up to the moon and the rooftops of London, the blank expression he normally has returning his face. “There’s no need for that, I’m just doing my job as always.” With that, he swiftly jumps to the rooftops to make his way back to dispatch.
Lee watches him leave, shaking their head with a small smirk. What a reaper, they think... Once he’s out of sight, they finally gather the strength to take one last look behind them, at the abandoned funeral parlor. Their eyes narrow, the green glow becoming just a little brighter as their hands clench into fists.
“Your treacherous path of messing with the finality of human lives will come to a close. We-“ They shake their head, knowing their answer to William’s request if the time ever comes. “I will find you... Adrian.”
Lee huffs out a breath, preparing themself before seamlessly flying into the air to land on one of the many city rooftops. They observe the soft glow of the moon once more for just a brief moment, before disappearing into the foggy London night.