Black Butler : A Deadly Game

Ok this is the first Fan Fic, that I have written and shown anyone. It's not the best, but I love Sebastian from Black Butler, so i just had to create a girl for him. I'm not really sure how this works, so I guess I'll say, though i think its probably clear, that i don't own Black Butler, well except for Ryan, and the other characters i create. So...I hope you like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prologue : My Past

 Those people, the ones in red, came for them. Or was it me they came for? They used their already bleeding knives, to desecrate my parents. No respect for the dead. They couldn’t even clean the knives before they killed them.

            “Run! Don’t look back! Stay safe, R—“ My mothers last words. That’s why I know my name starts with an ‘R’. After that, I was thrown into a pit. All I remember was the heat, flames I think, licking my skin. There’s a point, where the most excruciating pain fells tender, where the licks of fire, feel like that of a lover. I came to know where I was as Hell. I don’t remember what it was like, but I it’s how I got my Blade. After, what I was later told was 3 years of living ruthlessly in hell, I found a small gate, and was pulled out by a Soul Reaper. He explained that if I had survived something like the Underworld, then I surely could be in a Soul Reaper. I had no reason to say no, and no reason to say yes. So, I went with him.

            “Your Death Scythe, you’ll need one”, he started, until her noticed her blade, “though it seems you already have one.” I didn’t speak to him. Not because I was I didn’t want to, this man did save my life after all, but because I couldn’t remember how. It’s not necessary to speak in the Land of the Dead. It’s necessary to run and fight, which I did well.  When I reached earth again. A bell rang. To me, it signified my freedom.

            My parents were killed. In school we were taught red was the color of love, and hearts. You wore on Valentines Day. But to me, red is the color of death and hate. Red is the color of spilled blood. Red is the color of Hell. Red is the color I will never forget.

 The Present

 Ryan Bell climbed up the steps of the Phantomhive Manor, rolling two black bags behind her. The menacing building stared down at her, daring her to knock. Before she even had the chance, the door was opened by a man in black. She bowed her head.

            “I am Ryan Bell, a Soul Reaper of the 4th division. I was sent here by my superiors to look over the Phantomhive Manor. No sir, you are not in any trouble, but something will happen soon. It is unknown what, but I must be here when it does. I would like to ask if I may take residence here.” Ryan spoke in a controlled voice, the kind Soul Reapers are taught. Her teachers would have been proud.

            “What if I were to tell you no, that I was not going to allow you to stay here?” The man in black butler attire asked. He had no intention of telling her no, but he was certainly intrigued by her. 

            “Were you to tell me no, I would explain that I am willing to do anything you desire or require if you would allow me the pleasure of staying here”, she responded, not once losing her cool. She cocked her head to the side, displaying that when she said, anything she really meant it. The black butler chuckled.

            “Well, there will be no need for that Lady Bell. I am Sebastian, the head butler of the Phantomhive Manor. Allow me to take your bags.” Sebastian explained.

            “Thank you very much, sir” Ryan responded.

            “Please, call me Sebastian. My master would like to speak with you in the dining hall. I shall escort you there before I take your bags to your room” Sebastian told her. His voice was quite commanding for a servant. She was shown to a very grand dining hall, where a broad shouldered, tall boy sat at the head of the table. His black hair, with a blue and green tint touched the nape of his neck. He wore an eye patch, which added an air of mystery to what would have been a baby-faced boy. He seemed to have a permanent smirk on his lips. As she assessed him, he did the same of her. She wore form fitting camouflage pants, and a slanted belt with weapons that you weren’t allowed to say the name of on earth. A black sleeveless turtleneck, fit her torso, and had been ripped up to the top of her stomach, showing her honey colored skin. A jacket to match her pants was tied around her waist, and her black combat boots wore worn. She was scratched and bruised in to many places to name, bangs swept across her face and a thick black braid whipped around her like a rattle snakes tail, reaching her butt. A 6-foot long, 3 inch thick Sai blade, with red vines twisted around the blade was cocked over her shoulder.