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Jun 25, 2011

His Butler, Impoverished Chapter 1

Note:  I don't own any rights to Rent or Black Butler.  All rights, characters, and titles belong to their original creators.


Ciel Phantomhive rode his bike down the streets of New York City, where his beloved Bohemia would soon be destroyed.  His camera was rolling, and he was looking for something, anything, to inspire his documentary.  He pulled over next to where a homeless lady sat, huddling under her blankets.  “Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m making a documentary and if I could have a bit of your time, could you-“

“Get your camera out of my face,” she said, “I’m not looking for attention, I’m looking for cash.”
“I’m sorry.  I’m as broke as you are.”  Ciel hurried back to his bike.

“Then get the heck out of here,” she snapped, pulling the blankets more tightly around her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  He got back to his “apartment” and ran upstairs.  Bard was sitting there with his guitar, as usual.

“Get any new footage?” Bard asked, strumming a chord.

“Nope.  Get any new inspiration?” Ciel answered back.

“Yeah, right.”  Bard got up and put down his guitar.  “If only I could write just one song, we’d be living it up.”

“You’ve been saying that for two years now.  Maybe you should just give up.”

“Says the man running around with his video camera all the time.”

“Touché.”  Ciel sat down on the raggedy couch.  “So, do you want to get something to eat later?”

Bard sighed.  “Spotlight on my empty wallet.  We’re heating our home with my failed sheet music.  How the heck are we supposed to get any food?  We can’t even pay the rent Lord Soma’s now imposed on us.”

“To think we used to be friends with that jerk.” 

Something hit against the window.  Bard went to check it out.

“Hey, guys!” Sebastian called up.  “Care for some company?”

“Sure!”  Bard dropped the keys down to Sebastian.  “Come on up.”  He went back inside.  “It’s Sebastian.”

“Cool,” Ciel answered.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was walking down the alley to the entrance when some gang members came up behind him.  They beat him, stole his jacket, and left him bloody.

Sebastian couldn’t get up.  He lay there for a half hour, bleeding, when a man came up to him.

“Look at you, you’re all beat up.  What’s your name?” he asked.

Sebastian choked out his name, blood coming to his lip.

“My name’s Grell Sutcliff.  I’m going to take care of you.”  Grell picked up Sebastian and carried him home.

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