In a not very frequented business, a black robed figure was sitting idly by, absently chewing on his snack, though from appearance alone, it appeared to be very tough and white. Crunching sounds could be heard as he ate, and upon his head was a black top hat in pristine condition, covering his long hair. The strands were the color of old silver and a few braids could be seen, but the most important thing was that his hair being long like that covered a great deal of the scars upon his face.
Undertaker, for that was the name he went by here in London, was brooding slightly. In the past few days, he'd been seeing corpses in his job as a funeral director, and he knew that this was the work of demons, not wild animals, no matter what the detectives were saying. Demon killings had very specific patterns and he could tell that the victims had been played with first- oh yes, they'd been cut up, though not enough to die instantly, instead slowly draining blood had ended their lives. And by that point, it would have been a mercy to them, considering how fingers and toes had been cut off, skin shaved off of legs and backs in large patches, but done perfectly neatly. It was impossible for an animal to be that precise.
Though Undertaker wouldn't call a demon an animal, neither was a demon a human. They had their own rules and even though the current Prince was not as tolerant of rampant killing as his predecessor, the one before him had allowed things to spiral out of control. The last thing Undertaker wanted to see were demons running amok and slaughtering indiscriminately like they had been prior to the former Prince's death. Eventually, humans would catch on to their presence that way; there would be too many dead bodies to keep it covered up any longer. One or two might not be noticed, but more than that and the newspaper were full of articles speculating on the "real" cause of death.
Besides, he remembered also that such random killings made the Shinigami's jobs even harder, for most of those killed were not on the list to die. The paperwork had been a nightmare; Undertaker wondered how William was handling it. After all, Grell wasn't likely to really care, since he was busy playing with Sebastian Michaelis, flirting with the demonic butler nonstop. A rather whimsical smile appeared on his face, for the young demon reminded him of an old friend he'd known for a very long time now. He'd not seen the person since then, after the new Prince had put a stop to the murders, with the power to enforce his will upon the lower demons.
As if his old memories conjured him up, Undertaker paused, turning to look at the shadows more closely as a robed figure appeared, holding an onyx scythe. Undertaker's mouth split in a slight grin; he remembered the day he'd given that to Lucifer and how the other Grim Reapers had been furious with him for it.
"What brings you to London?" Undertaker questioned, setting his snack aside and gazing at him. Clearly Lucifer had not aged at all; his physical appearance was still that of a young man, though his eyes betrayed his old age. Those lavender orbs held something in them that Undertaker did not like, the grin fading away as he looked fully upon his old friend. "What's wrong, Luce?"
"Michaelis has been kidnapped, Uriah," Lucifer informed him softly, though the anger and concern had not faded at all. Walking over to the retired Shinigami, he perched upon the armrest of the seat that the silver-haired male was sitting in. "Drake is behind it and Michaelis will be going into heat any time now. You know what that means."
"I thought the bastard would have given up on him after you severed his finger," Undertaker replied, a little taken aback at hearing his true name after so long. "Not that he didn't deserve it, but I'm surprised that little Lord Phantomhive didn't protect him. He is very fond of Michaelis, you know, and the feeling is mutual." This was definitely not good, for there was only one reason why Drake would go after Michaelis now.
Lucifer shook his head, his unbound hair black and contrasting completely with the red robe he wore over his normal clothes. "So did I," he admitted, exhaling slowly, "but apparently he was just biding his time until Michaelis was about to enter his mating cycle. I must go get him back before it is too late, but I was wondering if you would be willing to go with me, Uriah. I can't take anyone who doesn't know the truth about Michaelis with me; all the rest of the demons underground would find out and he'd been in danger for the rest of his life."
