Calm Before The Storm

(Personal Statement: )

It was a foul sight to behold.

It was as if a walking disaster had come and ravaged everything in its path.

I can not explain what I witnessed but know this Sir Arthur, this is not a Suspect.

What 'this' is, it is not a man.

It is not a human.

This is a beast that walks upon man with our skin loosely fitting it.

…

(Official Report: )

This is the first heavy loss the Round Table has sustained since this war has started.

Casualties: 23

All dismembered and tortured before death. It was stated that with the evidence provided the person who tortured these men were not after information but rather for personal thrill.

…

This is bold of me to say King Arthur, but I will report this. Last night was when all of these casualties happened, this is a warning.

But perhaps war cannot be won without sacrifice.

…

The bodies-

As the report went on, Arthur's gleaming eyes held onto the hope his friend had given him but this was too much.

Hope was there but the stress would age him even faster as time goes on.

He put the report down and closed his eyes, his face in clear distress.

His right index and middle fingers tapped rapidly on his wooden table making countless tapping sounds.

Oliver once commented on how scary he sounded like a metronome whenever he was in thought.

'...'

'...Casualties are starting to add up, was there some type of replacement for Jack the Ripper? We've never noticed this…'

The situation wasn't exactly good for them, the Cult's influence may have not directly affected the common people but through their mass control of drugs, weapons, and more, they were the lords of darkness of the United Kingdom and Ireland.

He had grown lax because of his universally helpful informant and double agent Japanese man, Takara Takahiro.

His Jack of all Trades abilities had turned this once power struggle into a more dominant one sided massacre.

He himself had been trying to find the group of people his informant had mentioned but he thought that they were dead.

The 'Nine' who he wanted to take revenge on were all people who were famous in their field of specialty.

But most if not all were to be said dead, out on a battlefield or in their own burnt out homes.

There was never a time of peace or systematic way of doing things in the Spy World, Arthur proposed.

Always full of conspiracies and always in slight chaos.

The world where he grew up in and the world in which he shall die.

-Tap.

With one last tap he ended his long stream of thoughts and returned back to reality.

In truth, he was still extremely wary of Takahiro, he was an unknown factor that could be anyone and even his motives might be false. This was the reason he was always the one to pick up any and all information he obtained.

He had some part in Oliver's injuries and lost arm after all. Though not completely at fault he couldn't get himself to trust him.

'I see the way forward.'

His mind came up with a more cautious strategy than the lax one he had before in record time.

Resting his head on his hand, covering his mouth, he thought about Takahiro's 'inconsistencies'.

'It's like he rests at the bottom of a deep, murky lake.'

Indeed.

Takahiro sometimes felt… 'off'.

Perhaps it was his behaviors from the traits merged within him, but his personality didn't feel 'whole' in a sense.

Like his mind wandered for a bit too long, or how his eyes seemed to pull Arthur in like a black hole when his emotions were in turmoil.

In most eyes they were the habits of an aloof genius looking down upon the world. But in Arthur's eyes he was a grotesque being that had no 'fixed' personality.

He had met some of the Nine in the past, whether in official outings or private parties.

They shared similar traits with Takahiro, but when all the bits and pieces came together and stitched their way into the residence of his mind it formed what was now 'Takahiro'.

These thoughts would never come out of his mind.

Maybe… just maybe, one day after the war and everything settles, if he survives, Arthur will accept him as a true friend.

As long as his personality is either turned back or fully integrated he would do so.

*

*

*

I watched in horror as 'they' won.

"...Ha… T-This is a joke… right???"

My nervous, almost quivering laughter came out and 'they' chuckled, amused as I satisfied their humor a bit.

"DON'T BULLSHIT ME!!!!"

My face contorted into rage as tears went down my face, I didn't care.

It was foggy.

Why was it foggy?

Off to my side were the bodies of the Termites, I failed.

I failed at my revenge.

I failed to save the Termites from their slave lives.

My only reason for existence was gone.

Snatched, just like that.

I watched as their 'faces' stretched in unnatural ways forming into 'smiles'.

It was blurry, it shouldn't be…

I noticed the weird phenomena.

Unlike my outward appearance, I was somehow calm and full of thought. Not the characteristics of a man filled with rage.

Was it 'cold-rage'?

"No…"

It was like I ran out of breath when I stated that. 

My fingers gripped the blood soaked dirt, my eyes wildly looking around, frantic, trying to deny this as a possibility.

I started to accept my defeat, no… my 'loss of life'.

The queer faces of the Nine danced above me as the stage turned into a void, empty of matter.

They mocked me.

Jeering to me about my failure, pounding it into my head relentlessly.

I swung with no posture, Combat would have been disappointed.

It… was strange.

I was there, swinging… but at the same time 'I' was watching.

Omnipotent and powerlessness. Two opposite sides of the spectrum yet they coexisted inside this strange 'tango' of mine.

Losing my strength, I fell to the floor.

'I' looked up.

There was a crack.

In this void a plethora of colors seeped into this world destroying the masks and illusion self, turning them into nothing.

I woke up.

* * *1

Nightmares.

I've been having them quite a lot lately.

Is it because of how close I am to one of the 'Nine'?

I can't back out now.

No…

Not after everything that they did.

My hand slowly eased from my face, my wavering conviction solidifying once again.

The irises in my eyes slowly turn back to 'normal', the string wrapping back tightly into 'normal irises'.

"...I should report this to Arthur."

On the bedside table was a file containing my infiltration pertaining to the Suspect's base.

It wasn't even a 'base' it was the house of one of them…

This was a lucky find.

The war might end sooner than I thought.

We lost Oliver, so if we can take down a Suspect then we can even the playing field a bit.

The distance is closing, I can almost see the finish line.

…

"...You say you have manners but this time you didn't even knock."

I said, using a towel to wash my wet hair.

"Is what you said true?"

Arthur asked, a face so serious I never thought that the polite man I knew before existed.

"...The file is on the bed side table, see for yourself."

I eyed the table, taking a drink from the glass filled with cold water, the humidity making my hand the slightest bit wet.

Arthur went and grabbed the file as if he was in a hurry, his eyes darted from line to the next before finishing in only two minutes and thirteen seconds.

"Well?"

"...If what is stated here is correct… we'll be… much closer…" He mumbled before his eyes widened at the revelation.

All in a good day's work.

"Thank you, truly, if this is true then I'll try and get my subordinates to find out any information pertaining to the Nine you told me about."

For once I saw him exit the room, he was too deeply in thought.

I smiled, it was starting, finally.

…

"Why…"

Huh?

What was that?

I looked at my window, open and letting the city breeze come in.

Was it the breeze?

It was a voice, but that shouldn't be possible. My hearing is the sense I'm most confident in…

…Maybe I'm still shaken up from the dream…

Dream?

Did I dream about something?

Hhmm…

Oh well…

*

*

*

A trader, a merchant.

He was the dealer of goods and a Suspect of the Cult of Whitechapel.

"Mr. Nickels! Where do you want the supplies to be?"

One of the port workers yelled. The smell of the sea and sweat was pungent, but everybody was already used to this.

"Put them on dock seven, I'll be right there!"

Everything was all over the place, chaotic but also in order. It wasn't the type of chaos in the Spy World however, it was more a peaceful one…. A more rowdy one.

As the large wooden containers landed on dock seven, Mr. Nickels made his way over.

"...If you could sign here please."

One of the dock workers brought out a clipboard with some papers to confirm everything.

"Yes, of course."

He took the pen and wrote a signature, no doubt a piece of art with how the strokes glided across the piece of paper and finished up beautifully.

Ten large crates were now in front of him.

-Snap!

He held his hand in the air and snapped his fingers, an indication which his own men used to identify when to come in and transport the crates away.

Just from working together multiple times in the past, the port workers noticed his love for theatrics. Everything he did was either elegant or overly done.

Soon the crates were loaded onto a large semi truck, roaring its engine proudly.

"Well then gentlemen, I must be off. It was a pleasure working with you all again."

He tipped his hat and got into the truck, taking off onto the road.

"..."

Soon only the driver and him remained silent, the only sounds being the humming and rattling of the truck and its cargo.

The silence was lifted once Mr. Nichels said, "Did the bribe go well?"

"As well as always Mr. Nichels."

"...Good. I hope no one looked at the shipments, did they?"

"My man inside, would have taken care of any."

"Hmm…"

The cargo that was inside the large container behind them were packed full of guns.

There was padding and the like but even that didn't stop the sometimes rattling of the metal inside.

They had a large elaborate system that used shipping companies internationally. 

Any third parties such as the 'Flower Bin' were only used for small packages. 

They kept a log of all their shipments and it wasn't easy to bribe the man in charge. Which was why they used normal services who were more susceptible to bribes and greed, overpowering them was also a factor into consideration.

'Our 'grand finale' is coming. The small bases overtook by the Round Table have been steadily adding up. Why doesn't 'he' just do what he has done so many times in the past…'

Nichols thought, watching the blurring surroundings outside the glass window to his right, with his face scrunched in frustration.

"...How much longer until we're at the dropoff point."

The driver looked at the GPS in the middle.

"Around twenty-five minutes if there is no hold up."

Taking the words through one ear, he saw the bright sky, around 1 p.m. at the moment.

Then, the silence came back like an impenetrable wall.

*

*

*

Why!?

Why don't you look at me anymore!?

It had been over ten years since he last killed the former leader of the Round Table.

Usually 'he' called him, congratulating him and fueling him with even more motivation as his Cult empire grew in the shadows.

No.

He didn't call.

That all powerful voice, the occasional ringtone that he set specifically that enhanced his presence. It didn't ring.

So he made a plan.

He'll make a grand finale to show him that he wasn't irrelevant yet!

That 'he' still needed him!

"Wait for me my god…"

"Wait for me…"

~~~~

A/N:

I actually didn't have a character in mind for Francis Tumblety, but thanks to the release of Reverse 1999 I used Mr. Forget Me Not as a reference point. (Nichels / Francis Nichels)

God I've been grinding the game.

Love it. Worth the wait.

My gacha luck is insane, I got 'A Knight' in ten pulls, Eternity in ten, and Sotheby in another ten.

I'm not sure if this is just me or not because I only did thirty pulls and I got the six starred featured characters. 

Who knows?

Anyway, did anyone get the 'hint' in the previous chapter? Also, I tied the Cult Incident quite well, I think?

Well, that's all.

Peace~