jin·go·is·tic
adjective
characterized by extreme patriotism, especially in the form of aggressive or warlike foreign policy.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 𝗔 𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘 𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗦𝗕𝗢𝗬 𝗝𝗢𝗜𝗡𝗦 𝗔
𝗣�...
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With the information given to Mr. Moriarty, [NAME]'s job was now unclear. The blonde haired man said for them to send a telegram with the help of Louis to two of their allies. Sure, they were a kid raised up with street knowledge but they didn't have a clue to operate fancy machinery (even though a telegram isn't that hard to use). While Louis was inputting the morse code, the [Hair Color] haired asked who they were messaging.
"They're both old and good friends to Lord William. In fact, I would say that one is about your age as well,"
"Well that's poor,"
At the remark, the younger brother perked his eyebrow as he kept inputting the morse as if it was automatic.
"How so?"
"There's a big doubt that many kids my age are capable of handling this kind of work. I haven't even told the newsboys the whole story yet!"
The man relaxed and actually chuckled at the answer. It wasn't everyday that the manor was lively and filled with childish words. Even though the topic is heavy and shouldn't really be a laughing matter, Louis couldn't help it. Sometimes [Name] kind of reminded all the childish things his older brothers did but wouldn't ever admit. Louis still doesn't understand why the [Eye Color] eyed is being kept around but for now, he isn't against it.
Wrapping up with the final words, he sent the telegram and asked the newsboy to get a headstart on a newspaper article. Most of the components was up to them but the man pointed out certain things such as the person and the cause of death. Afterwards, the night became it's usual with the moon out. [Name] just wondered what that large brain of Mr. Moriarty was thinking.
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The moment [Name] met the boy everyone talked about was a surprise on their part. He truly was around their age and actually looked to be around the same height as well. It was weird since the only people who the [Hair Color] haired interacted with was their posse of newsboys so let's just say they didn't know how to act. Mr. Moriarty introduced the two and said that the boy's name was Fred. It was a somewhat common name, all the more reason for people not to suspect him, [Name] simply thought. Apparently he was good for search and rescue operations as well as finding intel (which made the newsboy a little furious but what can you do in the grand plan).
He didn't stick around for long since the moments afterwards of the introduction he was off doing who knows what at this point. The day was already setting and once again [Name] was dragged to meet another person. It was going to indeed be a long week for them.
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"[Name], this is a good friend of mine, Sebastian Moran. Moran, this is one of our promising allies [Name],"
The black haired man in front of said [Name] stood to be really tall. It almost made them hurt their neck from trying to look at his face. He carried a suitcase that was too long to be storing any sort of clothes so the next best thing were to be a gun. From his posture he was pretty laid back and so he didn't pose a great threat.
"Well there's another pipsqueak to add to the team then!"
Moran's boisterous laugh came out as he took [Name] into a headlock. They made a mental note to not but laid back and replace it with annoying. They couldn't go against their current boss' orders though so they had to just suck it up and get through it.
"You done yet?"
Moran proceeded to ruffle their hair.
"Okay, now I am,"
He gave them a light shove off of him and then turned back towards Mr. Moriarty. They seemed to be discussing the plan to rid the culprit of this world. That was something the [Hair Color] haired could understand from all these meetings. A gust of wind flew right past them as a familiar boy was in view. Fred walked up to Moran and mostly the taller male did the talking. The boy rarely even spoke a word now that they think more on it.
"Oh well, let's make a good story shall we?"
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Down by the bridge was a bench. On that bench was a man wallowing in his sorrows like a lot of others out in the vast world. He cried and wailed as he can't accept any facts, his head was clouded with delusions of everything that ever seemed to exist. Death gets the best of people, in the best and worst ways. It's also one of the ways how people make money but [Name] of all people knows that part more than anyone. They understand their purpose within the group of special individuals.
From the meetings of that day, the [Hair Color] knew that they were nothing compared to the rest of them. The only things they were good for was getting gossip and entertaining the people. Mr. Moriarty gave them a job to show the world the truth of the bad nobles, and they would do that job till they succeed in their eyes. Maybe, just maybe experiencing this death up closer than ever would be a good reminder of the things they agreed to.
"He's dancing with death herself, and death herself embodies us,"
[Name] says as they watched from their place with the homeless man under the bridge. They can't recall when they started to follow the same footsteps the man was taking on the bridge. Perhaps it was some sort of feeling to experience what being on the brink of death would be. Even they would have to admit Moran was pretty good at his job (besides the sleeping with dames parts). With one fell swoop the man fell off of the bridge much like the lady before had.
In the corner of his eye, the man could see the newsboy waving their hat in the air. He heard one thing before the plunge.
