Esteemed Malevolence

XI: Unforeseen Location

The dark blanket of night consumed the sky. Fleet Street was it's usual rush of pedestrians of all ages, and it seemed a lot more colourful than normal. As Christmas was approaching, many businesses and practices along the street had already placed up decorative lanterns, festive wreaths and mistletoe.

Other shop owners however, had decided to decorate Fleet Street in other ways.

Sweeney Todd, for example.

He was definitely making an effort this year...

... making an effort to drive the blade across the skin, to hook the edge of it in, in order to slice into the viscera... to tear away everything that was attached... the vermillion blood showered over him and the surrounding passage, peppering the brick walls with a festive crimson.

He wore a maddening glare, which matched his victorious grin...

Sweeney Todd had finally, finally gotten rid of the council man. He had thought he'd better. The man had become a regular customer to Mrs Lovett's Emporium, far too regular for Mr Todd's liking. The regular had begun to notice things - no matter how minor his observations had been, he certainly had to be rid of before he put two and two together...

The barber wiped his razor clean on his previously white sleeve, only adding to the spray of deep red that coated his entire being. He cautiously returned his friend to the holster on his belt.

And there was the rat of a man before his bottomless, black eyes - he was sliding down the mossy wall, body stiff and rigid as his muddy green eyes bulged out of his well concealed skull. Grimy hands curled into claws, viscous liquid trickled, the sound of clothes scraping brick rustled as the undeniable sound of death wheezed out of him.

The man's heavy body slumped to the ground with a final dense thud, thick wine-like blood pooling from his angry throat-wound. His head lolled downward, causing him to continue bleeding profusely.

His murderer just glared at him from his place in the shadows. 

The barber was partly relieved - the man would no longer be a bother, yet, it was clear that he now left himself in an unusual predicament. He'd never managed to kill anyone outside of his parlour before. It was always so safe in there, there was never room for error - he had developed a successful technique, and there was never any worry in terms of what was happening to the deceased after said murder...

Yet there he was, glaring at the body of the deceased glutton, with enough mixture of disgust and concern on his face that it was a miracle that no one noticed the snide glint in his eye all the way from the main street.

It was like he was in some kind of ridiculous shock. He had no clue what to do with it. He couldn't just leave it there - it was in an alleyway, any old person could hop along in there and stumble across the fresh carcass of the prestigious council man, who had apparently been named Sir Alexander. He then considered moving him. His scowl gracefully fell down to its rightful place as he leaned down and attempted to tug the bottom of the man's leg. He growled in frustration and yanked it with more force, the body merely sliding down to lay flat on the cobbles.

"For god's sake!" he snarled, throwing the man's leg away from him, standing back up straight, but only so that he could give the body's stomach a violent kick.

His hands reached up to snatch bundles of his inky hair as he turned away sharply, eyes darting to-and-fro in panicked thought.

'What are you going to do now?! It's gone. Yes. But you cannot allow yourself to be discovered through its disposal! You still have the judge to see to. Come on! Don't just stand there, you're clever! What are you to do with its body?'