Esteemed Malevolence

XLII: Cemented Trust

There was something eerie about running about the sewers during the prolonged approach to ten at night. The way the moonlight flooded through drainage covers above gave some sections of the pipes an ethereal gleam, and the darker parts almost appeared a blue-green... the colour that dead flesh goes once the insides start rotting.

Two pairs of boots slapped over the surface water, which consisted of rain run-off - apparently the clouds had decided to unleash a downpour over the city of London, because a fair bit of water was now gushing in from the streets and alleyways above the heads of those beloved criminals, who were desperately sprinting towards their freedom.

Eleanor had her arm linked around Sweeney's in a violent squeeze - he'd habitually wince and urge her to let go of him, but even he was glad to feel her there beside him.

They'd been running for what seemed like forever, but in reality it had only been about twenty minutes. The young lad had been having second thoughts about leaving Eva behind, and had kept pausing now and again. In the end, Sweeney had growled at him and scooped him up into his arms, draping the squealing boy over his shoulder as he continued to run.

The barber's actions were certainly questionable - he loathed Toby, yet he'd picked him up without a moment's thought. In his thought-pattern, he had done it for Eleanor's piece of mind. However, if he'd been alone, it was likely thathe would have let the boy stand and face his own fate.

Toby awkwardly clung to the back of Sweeney's trenchcoat, his cheek resting against his shoulder-blade. If the boy hadn't been traumatised before, he certainly was now that he was being carried by the demon barber.

Sweeney had his right arm outstretched as his black eyes scanned the darkness for any oncoming enemies, anyone who was to see his sinister expression would find it hard not to turn and run from just how unhinged he appeared.

Then of course, there was Eleanor to his left, who had shoved her rolling pin down the front of her dress in order that she could hitch up her skirts with her hand - otherwise she was likely to have tripped over them, given how fast they were powering ahead.

All three of them were silent, only the shallow splashes of their feet over the thin layer of groun-water could be heard, along with the occasional heavy breath of effort. As they unknowingly reached the half-way point towards their destination, Eleanor and Sweeney exchanged concerned glances when muffled sounds of approaching stomps rang out from the curved roof above them.

Both barber and baker kept on running regardless, yet after another second or so, the loud footsteps above soon turned into a stampede and it was clear from the screams and shouts that followed, that the riot was finally spreading out further and further away from Fleet Street.

London was evolving into a savage cesspool of certifiably insane civilians.

Toby buried his head into the black leather of Sweeney's shoulder as a loud clatter erupted out from the city above them, soon followed by a smokey fizzle... it reminded him of the sound of a revolver being fired, which he knew all too well. Eleanor too found that it was hard not to feel an enormous amount of dread when a barrage of gunshots then followed, though it was clear from the way that they faded away, that the shots were tactical and in response to the riot of cannibalistic civilians tearing into each other on ground level.

They carried on running ahead regardless of the mayhem taking place, though it appeared to be all too much from Toby, and he suddenlt passed out from shock, his body heavily drooping over Sweeney's shoulder. From the added weight, the barber knew exactly what had happened, but he hadn't the time nor the care to check that he had only fainted. The boy could have died and he still wouldn't have given him an ounce of his attention.