Title: The Kill

Word Count: 500

Rating: R for violence and character death

Summary: Sweeney Todd contemplates Pirelli.

The Kill

Sweeney slammed the door shut behind the young boy, watching him skitter down the stairs excitedly. He was beginning to dread he'd never leave. He waited until the boy was out of sight before turning his attentions to his more immediate problem.

Pirelli was still alive in that trunk.

He set the cup of tea he'd poured for himself down on the stove, flexing his singed hand a little (the pain from grabbing the boiling teakettle had not quite set in; he knew Mrs. Lovett would fuss over him when she saw he'd burned himself), and slowly made his way over to the trunk, Pirelli's fingers sticking out over the lip.

Something had to be done about this.

He slowly lifted the lid of the trunk, the loud creaking echoing through his tiny domain. Pirelli's choked gasps reached his ears afterwards as he clung helplessly to the side of the trunk, trying and failing to pull himself up, blood smeared across his forehead and hands, standing out vividly against his ridiculously blue costume.

Sweeney remembered him. Pirelli…he'd been a young boy by the name of Connor. Back when Sweeney had been Benjamin Barker, and had made quite a name for himself, he'd been approached by Connor in his home and place of business—he'd wanted to apprentice under him. And Benjamin Barker had gladly allowed Connor into his home, giving him the menial tasks of sweeping up hair, organizing his workspace, and observing his work, intending to gradually advance to the more difficult tasks and eventually allowing him to shave the customers. When he'd last seen the boy, he'd been barely his own height, lean and lanky, with a head covered in a mop of black curls and a mind full of ambitions and dreams of being the greatest barber in London. He'd been impressed to find somebody who loved the trade as much as he did, but less than impressed with what lengths the boy's ambitions tended to take him. He'd been a little dishonest, but Lucy (his throat clicked a little), Lucy had always insisted they forgive him, for he was just a boy, with no family, and perhaps with their guidance, they could help him become something honest and hard working. Connor always loved Sweeney's razors as well—would always ask to be allowed to polish them, and had only been allowed once…the day before—

And now, before him, lay Adolpho Pirelli. Selling piss and ink to passersby, boasting of his mediocre talents and claiming a title that he himself had once owned as Benjamin Barker—the best barber of London.

Sweeney Todd was not impressed. Connor had done nothing with himself. He'd been free to do as he wanted, been allowed to retain his freedom, had not endured fifteen years in an Australian penal colony, and this was all he'd made of himself. A two-bit con who attempted to blackmail his betters.

He was worthless. He would be treated as such.

Sweeney reached for his razor.