Kapitel 12: Bloody Sunday Riot (5)
'This wasn't supposed to happen!'
"Ugh…"
Alvis snapped out of his thoughts, Watson who was underneath had already passed out due to hitting her head on the ground.
Alvis frantically looked through her top coat pocket, finding another revolver.
Another six shots, all hit true.
…
But nothing changed.
Burns' head which was now dangling by her chest had two gaping holes along with others that were scattered around.
The piece of paper in her hands moved erratically as the piece of paper shoved itself into the stomach of the woman like that of a worm.
Upon disappearance, the body started to shake.
Boom!
The body burst as the skin and various organs flew out, only a wriggling mass of flesh remaining.
Ignoring the mass of flesh, Alvis looked at the pieces next to him that used to be Burns' head.
Somehow, a sudden calm appeared in his mind that allowed him to think clearly.
Looking at his side, Charlotte Holmes was sitting on the ground, almost as if entranced by the constantly moving flesh in front of her.
"Hah…"
It was a sigh with unprecedented weight.
'I have to kill it.'
It was a quick and sure conclusion.
Alvis' left arm that was already missing two fingers started to glow through the veins in an ominous orange color.
'I still haven't witnessed just how strong my Arts are…'
Alvis planned on sacrificing his entire arm in order to kill the 'being who should not be here'.
Merely looking at the creature induced a slight madness, something that he felt only when facing God. But it was perhaps this madness that induced the recklessness of what Alvis was about to do.
Tap, tap, tap!
Alvis footsteps resounded as he plunged his left arm into the mass of grotesque flesh.
Puchi!
A bright orange color filled the area for a moment, before turning pure white.
Boom!
'...'
"What…?"
Instead of exploding, the mass simply disproportionately enlarged like a balloon before starting to grow larger to the newfound energy.
Alvis took a few steps back from the still growing mass.
The pain from blood pouring from his shoulders didn't matter.
No amount of pain could possibly hide his shock.
'...It's over…'
There was nothing else he could do.
The monstrous flesh contorted and a 'mouth' appeared.
What came out of the 'mouth' could only be described as 'sound'.
"▅▆▇▉"
Although it was incomprehensible, the meaning was clear as day to those who heard it.
｢■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■. ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■… ■■■, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ "■■■■", ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ '■■■■ ■■■■■' ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■ "■■■■".
Die.｣
Alvis shakily reached into his coat pocket and grabbed a bullet, adding it into Watson's revolver.
Pushing the barrel to his head, he pressed the trigger.
A bright light enveloped his vision along with two words to accompany him, 'last chance'.
Alvis found himself about to knock on the boarding house located on 221B Baker Street.
'...Last chance?'
He recalled God's words as it maddened his mind, but he paid no heed.
As Alvis held his wound, he looked at the boarding house with mixed emotions.
'Thank you Charlotte Holmes, in the future I'll do my best to help if the time ever comes.'
Alvis held his hat before heading to Elizabeth Burns' residence in order to end the charade.
* * *
It was quite a large residence, I noted.
Elizabeth Burns was a good person from what I have read, but around a decade ago she went around the world to see what other countries were like, that was when I suspect she got ahold of that accursed piece of paper.
Blood was dripping, my hand was already drenched and I would soon pass out, reminding me that I had a limited time.
I stood very far away from the residence, remembering the strange detection system that even the mana device Charlotte Holmes had crafted couldn't find.
I have twelve bullets, six already within the chamber.
My head was filled with urges to kill in order to please the mad gods.
But nothing seemed to truly affect me as I had committed suicide multiple times.
The urges felt more as if they were lingering remnants of the presence of the mad gods' influence on the world.
They who should not be named, they who should not exist.
Just their mere presence causes the world into panic and chaos.
"...It's time to end this."
I held the revolver in my hands before running at the front door and shooting twice at the door lock and barging in the residence.
I immediately went up the stairs and headed for the last room down the hall, the master's bedroom and Burns' bedroom.
"W-Who are you!?"
"...Where's the piece of paper?"
She was frozen in place when I had arrived and thus I saw her hands reaching for underneath her bed.
The woman tried to frantically shove herself underneath her bed but I had already pulled the trigger to his gun before she had managed to cover her head.
A cold corpse now layed on the ground, motionless and still warm.
I carefully moved aside the woman before finding a large chest with strange inscriptions on them, the faint smell of the sea on it though it had long faded through time.
'Is this chest sealing the piece of paper?'
Upon opening the chest, I found a piece of paper, laying motionless.
It had no writing, a white blank piece of paper.
Grabbing a match from my pocket, I lit it on fire.
As if it had sensed the danger, it shrieked like a wild animal and tried to lunge at me but I threw the match inside the chest before closing it.
'Let it end…'
The chest shook and the smoky smell of burning paper started to grow.
The flames evaporated the paper and spread onto the chest.
Soon, the entire chest was burning.
'Let it end…'
I chanted within my mind, fully focused on the orange wisps of fire enveloping everything.
"Let it end…"
The red and orange intertwined as my eyes looked at the burning house in great detail.
"..."
.
.
.
United States of America, within a cramped and dark room.
"Did I imagine that?"
A young girl asked herself, while being surrounded by utter darkness as her curtains covered the windows.
* * *
"He's back?"
Jill the Ripper's excited voice rang throughout the study.
"Yes, princess, Alvis Quinn returned."
The Knight replied.
"Take me to him."
"Yes."
The knight and princess left, soon inside a hospital room as their runaway layed peacefully in bed, his hand and stomach bandaged.
"...You may leave."
The knight soon left the room leaving the hospital room quiet.
The clock read 3:40 a.m.
It had been only a few hours since he had left but Alvis Quinn had volunteered himself to be caught within just a few hours.
"...You truly are an enigma, I wonder… Are these so-called feelings because you came into my life? I don't quite understand why these feelings came into place, but we will slowly understand them together."
Jill the Ripper said, her hand brushing Alvis' hair away from his forehead.
Her static parted ways, a flicker of brown showed before the static covered her face again.
* * *
November 13, 1887.
Within the Protest at Trafalgar Square one of the five leaders went missing. It was at that very morning that it was found that Elizabeth Burns was found dead due to a house fire…
…
"They make quite a compelling story."
Alvis held the morning news as he read the murder of Elizabeth Burns' and the large protest that almost didn't happen due to the absence of Elizabeth.
Alvis suddenly looked out the window.
"Snow?"
It had been only a few hours since his encounter with Elizabeth Burns and he was stuck in the hospital, recuperating due to injuries given by Jill the Ripper.
'They say that snow is white due to its purification properties.'
It was absurd within his eyes as he was a modern person, but this winter felt oddly symbolic to him. The winter marked his year-long stay within the world.
Footsteps drew near.
As the wooden door opened, a black haired woman announced her presence.
"Hello, my slave."
It was Jill the Ripper.
Her cold and emotionless voice hasn't changed a bit.
The memory of her corpse appeared within Alvis' mind but it vanished as she walked closer.
"Miss Jill, if this was leaked, your reputation could be put into jeopardy."
He wryly smiled.
"I could simply change faces so that would not be a problem in the slightest."
And as usual, her face was covered in what was reminiscent of television static covering her facial features.
"I suppose that would fix it…"
Alvis smiled as she sat next to him.
"I suppose it is about time to ask, what did you do within that short window of time?"
'...Ah, the dreaded question is finally asked.'
"I don't know what you mean?"
Alvis feigned ignorance as he turned his head back to the window.
"Do not play games with me, if I want I could kill you right this instant."
Alvis' shadow seemed to come to life as it formed into a sharp blade pressing against his neck.
"But I know you won't Miss Jill, you simply can no longer live without me, can you?"
"..."
"...How infuriating. Fine, I will not ask about what you did."
Her words contradicted her tone of voice. Although she said those words her voice was cold, the only emotion increasing was her curiosity.
'...The glass will overflow, I can only hope that it isn't soon.'
Jill the Ripper's unsettling presence did nothing but put pressure on Alvis' mind.
As the day passed, Alvis waited another two weeks before he was let out of the hospital.
"Hello, Dr. Watson."
"Oh yes, hello. You seem to be quite a frequent visitor to the hospital… Mr. Quinn, correct?."
"Yes, that's my name. I get into quite a bit of accidents, none of which I truly want to be in."
"You are quite the unlucky fellow aren't you?"
"I suppose I am. I have a strange question, if you don't mind me asking."
"Yes?"
"Do you happen to know about the riot at Trafalgar Square that happened around two weeks prior?"
"It was in the morning news, rather, it would have been strange if I hadn't known about the incident."
"I see…"
'She truly doesn't have any memory of what happened…'
"Well nevermind then, thank you for chatting with me but I must leave now."
"I hope you have a safe life, though I feel I might see you around the hospital a bit more."
He nodded his head at Watson then left the hospital, returning back to Buckingham Palace which now seemed foreign to him.
"Huu…"
It was cold, as winter should be.
Soon it would be Christmas and large jackets were now the norm to keep people warm.
London as always was busy.
People were everywhere, carriages moved to and fro, and eventually Alvis found himself right in front of the gates of Buckingham Palace.
'It feels like it's been decades since I've been here.'
Going through the gates and into the building, he went to his room where his butler's attire awaited him.
Grabbing his attire, he headed to the kitchen where he greeted the chefs and grabbed a tea set and tray.
His normal routine was now being paved once again, old memories were being resurfaced.
He greeted various employees and finally reached the prestigious wooden door of Jill the Ripper's study.
Knock, knock—
"Come in."
'...'
Opening the door, what greeted Alvis' sight was not Jill the Ripper's desk overflowing with various paper documents but rather her keen gaze resting on his figure.
'...How unsettling.'
"Should I ask about how your desk is not crowded with documents?"
Alvis asked, his two missing fingers impeding on his task of brewing tea for Jill the Ripper.
"I had just taken a more direct approach in gaining political power, that is all."
'...'
Alvis thought of what she had meant, only gruesome and bloody scenes showed in his mind.
"...Is the coronation going to happen soon?"
"Haha… No, I did not kill the current king of the Empire, I simply took out the other higher governmental figures who were impeding my authority. I am not simply an ungrateful person, that man has raised me for several years now. Even if I killed his daughter some several years ago."
'...So she truly wasn't the true Empire's princess.'
"I see… Should I congratulate you on your rise in the political world?"
"No, there is no point in doing so. Aside from me, there is another woman who controls the other half of the government. She is quite irking to even be around, even more annoying than that damned Lestrade."
Jill the Ripper commented.
"..."
"When you grow, I am sure you will. I wonder if at that point it will be me or you who will fall… Alvis. What do you think?"
"!?"
He was shocked.
Hearing his name, Alvis accidentally poured tea on his disabled left hand and stood silent for a moment.
"..."
"I don't know… why don't we place a bet on it?"
He ignored that pain and gave an awkward smile at Jill the Ripper who seemed pleased at his mistake, the first in his entire career since becoming her butler.
"A bet?"
"Yes, a bet. Let us bet on who will fall. Would that not make it more interesting? Though I have nothing to give, I can still give you my word."
"How amusing, very well, let us bet on who will fall first."
It was a bright and snowy day indeed.
~~~~
Extra 1:
Alvis walked in the snow as the white substance below him crunched with every step.
Crunch.
Crunch.
His surroundings were not particularly grand and his location itself was quite far from the Buckingham Palace; he was in the slums. Better known as Whitechapel, the place where he had first arrived in the world.
"Huu…"
His breath was white.
'It feels like it's been a long time already, though I suppose it would feel that way since I've been in this world for many times longer than others.'
Within his hands was a brown paper bag with food inside.
'...It seems, I can finally keep one promise.'
His footsteps stopped.
In front of him was a shivering small orphan.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
It was as if he was talking to himself.
"I'm keeping my promise with you. If you want a better life I left instructions towards an orphanage in London that will take you in. I already let them know of your arrival so it's up to you if you want to go or not."
Leaving the paper bag in front of the child, Alvis turned back and thought, '...Life is unfair,' before heading back to Buckingham Palace.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein