A/N: Alright, how to begin? I recently began watching Kuroshitsuji, and the character of the Undertaker immediately captured my attention. Although, I need to make a small announcement real quick. In the series, the Undertaker mentions how Ciel once came to him for information before the Jack the Ripper incidents. This story will take place during that period of time. In other words, this takes place before the Jack the Ripper plotline. Thank you for your patience, and please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, its characters, plot, nor anything else associated with it. However, I do own my imagination.
Lightning flashed across the weather-torn sky as the people of London scurried to their destinations. Watching them was a man with an eerie grin, peering from his window. Although his silver hair covered his eyes, the man was perfectly able to sense the beings moving to and fro outside his shop. "Look at them," he chuckled to himself, his grin growing wider. "I wonder what good jokes they know." It had been quite a while since the Earl of Phantomhive had made his last visit, so the Undertaker knew that it would be some time before he next had a good laugh. After all, the people who usually came into his shop were deceased, and it was his job to pretty them up before they went to their grand party. And that was hardly any fun.
His chuckle slowly increasing in volume, Undertaker turned to his latest client who laid peacefully in the coffin he had measured just for her. "Come now," he said, making his way towards her. "It's a beautiful day for a celebration, and you're lazing about! Whatever will your guests think? Ah well, you're quite old, so perhaps they shall allow you to nap for a bit." Fondly patting the old woman's cheek, he began to make his way toward the shelves to fetch himself a treat whilst he waited for the woman's family to come and get her.
It was when he had his hand halfway through the cookie jar that he suddenly heard a gunshot from the alley near his shop. A heavy set of footsteps could then be heard dashing away from the scene that no one else seemed to have witnessed, let alone heard. His grin fading ever so slightly, Undertaker made his way toward the door. Turning back to his client, he said cheerfully, "Not to worry, my dear! I shall return in but a few moments! Please sit comfortably until I return!" Heaving the door open, despite its squeaks of protest, Undertaker exited the shop and proceeded to make his way toward the source of the earlier commotion.
It was not unusual for such events to take place in the alleys of London; however, it was strange for it to happen in the middle of the day, regardless of the weather. Perhaps something was afoot? 'Most unlikely,' he thought. It was probably just a slight squabble that had managed to get out of hand. He shouldn't be taking it so seriously, but business would most definitely not bode well if he kept half-rotting corpses behind his morgue. However… assuming that the body had been left behind… and there was presumably no one who had witnessed the murder… Perhaps this could be his chance to see more of those lovely innards! Ah, it had been far too long since his last dissection!
Practically skipping through the alley, Undertaker came screeching to a halt as he finally came across the victim of the scuffle. To his utmost surprise, it was not the troublesome lad he had been expecting, but rather, a young woman. Her hair, whatever color it once was, was now stained red by her blood, and her clothing suggested that she was lower class. Crouching down in front of her, Undertaker eyed the wound that the bullet had left. Poking her cheek with a long fingernail, his grin grew even wider as she gave a slight groan. Although he may have lost his chance for an autopsy this time around, he seemed to have gained yet another guest. Picking her up so that her wound would not be irritated, he began to carry her into his morgue. There was always room for another guest in his shop.
And who knows? Perhaps she knew some good laughs?