31 Days of Holiday Blood and Cheer

by PokeMaster_Zelda

Summary:

Yes, I've done murderous October, but have you considered: Nice and Naughty December?
Here are 31 stories, some sweet and nice, short little moments within the life of Lu and Alfendi in my little AU, and some being more murders committed by our beloved York-Lanc Fox.

Notes:

......Hi. I'm Back. Afterrrrr a very long hiatus. I ask you guys be patient with me, some of these stories may be really short, I'm somewhat easing back into the rhythm of writing- both fluff wise and murder wise! And, of course, as most of my works are, this takes place entirely within my LBMR AU.

Chapter 1: Nice: First Snow

Alfendi woke up because it was cold next to him. He did not feel the warmth of his beloved, and it made him panic a little. He didn't exactly shoot up- for he was lethargic and groggy- but he did get up faster than he would've bothered to on an off day. He looked around, rubbing his eyes until he saw her by the window.

Lu was sitting rather still, face pressed up against the glass, breath fogging it up.

"How long have you been up, my dear?" He yawned, still too early in the day for him.

"Early…" Lucille's voice was soft, dreamy, with a hint of excited whimsy, "I saw the snow start to fall."

"Oh?"

She turned her head to look at him- God, the smile on her face was like the sun itself, something bright amidst the gray and cloudy early morning British skies.

"Aye," She grinned, "First… first snow of the year. It- It never gets old, ya know? I didno' get to si' it a lot down int cells. Plus, I stopped comin' out, so…"

A chuckle leaked out of him, "You're so beautiful when you get excited, my sweet Lucille. Did you know that?"

Her face flushed, a stark red contrast to the cool colors in the room and outside, "R-Really?"

He nodded, "It's our day off today. How about we head out to the park after breakfast? Judging by outside, it'll be snowing most of the day, and that'll give us a nice layer-"

It was the fastest he'd seen her move, already up, even bouncing on the balls of her feet a tad. "Aye!!" She blurted, "Please, Fen? I'll- I'll pay for lunch too if uz stay out! Promise!"

He blinked a few times before laughing, stretching himself out as he got up and sauntered over to her. He kissed her sweetly, holding her face.

"My sweet girl, you don't need to promise anything. Let's just start with breakfast before we leave, alright?"

Her giggling response was like bells.

***

He wasn't usually one to willingly go outside, especially in this weather. This was London, for crying out loud, he had seen snow a thousand times and more throughout his life, what with how cold it got in the late fall and winter.

But ever since he and Lu were in a committed relationship, he found himself stepping out of his comfort zones and enjoying the mundane. How could he not around her? He couldn't begin to imagine the number of winters she'd spent trapped underground, how Lucy and Lily in particular were born having never seen snow but always feeling the stinging bite of the winter freeze. No matter how many times they'd seen it in ten years, it was a sign of something- a sign of freedom and liberation.

It was awe inspiring, and an absolute delight to witness.

"Fendarlin'!" Lily called out to him, pulling him out of his stupor, "Help me fuckin' roll this fat bastard, he's gettin' too big!"

A laugh left his throat, muffled against the pillowing snow that was piling up on the ground. He got up from the bench he had sat himself on, shuffling through the snow until he reached her. As they rolled the snowball up bigger and bigger, he felt warm despite the cold.

Yes, between the first snow and Lu's joy, today was going to be absolutely wonderful.

Chapter 2: Naughty: Scarves

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Sept. 15, 1984
Victim(s): Christ's Samaritans Charity; Pete Johnson, Andy Johnson, Jamie Linon, Johnny Linon, Phillip Evegan, Nathan Barthol, Matthias Leevy, Tommy Diddem, James Theliss, Simone Sellit, Jude Thabbus, Judith Charrot
Age: Ranging 23-67
Cause(s) of Death: Posterior Strangulation, Broken Necks, Fall Related Deaths.
---
13 years old

Notes:

Here it is! First murder of the season!

"You make… concerningly good nooses, my dear."

Keelan was watching Lily with a fair mix of worry and pride. She, on the other hand, was focused on the work in her hands with a fierce intensity, weaving scarves she'd nabbed earlier into almost neat and tidy copies of each other. She needed these prepared explicitly for tonight, and she was almost done.

Christ's Samaritans.

The head honchos of such a "charity" was her target; she bit her tongue to replace the rising bile with blood.

She'd had had her first interaction with the group just last week, when her and Diane were scrounging around for thicker coats and loose change. It was cold, with their feet and fingertips freezing from shitty, thin socks, worn out shoes and hardly any decent gloves. Diane had been the one to suggest church donation boxes "since they were free". Lily, of course, had been fairly apprehensive about the matter- she hated churches after all.

Her father had made sure of that.

The first few boxes laid out for the homeless were actually… Pretty decent. Small churches, full of good people who seemed to genuinely want to help, people who held no malice towards her for mundane reasons, people that didn't make her so tense.

By the end of their donation searching, they were more bundled up, and even had a little pocket change for a little more food. But, on their journey back, she had separated herself from Diane to search for more. She had found herself in front of a much larger church, built from concrete and intricate detail opposed to the brick and wood of the others. She searched, but found no boxes outside or inside; instead, she only found commotion, two women being dragged around until they were tossed out, the aggressors- a man in robes and a woman in rather fancy clothes- hurling slurs and biting insults as the ladies hit the pavement in tears.

"Take your sin elsewhere, you filth!" They screamed before finally slamming the doors in the poor girls' faces. Lily's heart leapt into her throat as Diane came up behind her.

"There you are, Loo-" Her voice was tight, and she was staring at the building and its inhabitants. "Fucking Samaritans…" was all Lily heard her mutter with disgust before dragging her home.

So she had done research.

Christ's Samaritans, a church with a well known charity, most popular around the fall and winter, and especially holidays, for providing care and resources for those in need and poverty stricken communities, run by a grand total of twelve people, including pastors, businessmen, and even politicians.

At least, that's what she found on the surface.

It didn't take a lot of digging to find a thousand and more layers of bigotry and embezzlement, encouraging hate- berating, rejecting, and condemning anyone not under their church's "sacred" umbrella; she'd even read and confirmed the times they had refused humanitarian aid to communities who couldn't pay the occasional fee. Greedy and cruel behind a cherubic mask…

It made her sick.

Eventually, she had found an interesting way to kill every last one of them. Of course, it had required a bit of… reading. Reading that very specifically twisted her stomach in knots and made her feel too close to an old home, but she had found a passage that seemed fitting for the situation.

-When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 4 “I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood”. “What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility”. So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.-

How horrifying, that not even the man her father and so many others worshipped was free of traitors who would sell him out for a few coins. Perhaps it would be some poetic justice if she made all of Christ's Samaritans' leaders into Judas' themselves?

…Would that make her no better than what she left behind?

Days later, as all the ropes she'd formed out of collected scarves and tied into nooses laid out in front of her, she couldn't help but wonder that. And, curses, Keelan was quick to notice.

"Well now," He had said, standing over her sitting on the floor, "What could possibly be on your mind, my girl? You've already come this far- made 12 perfect loops, all in a row!"

She bit her lip so hard it bled. "I used to get beat cause of that stupid book. Stupid fuck were used as some excuse to hurt me. And now, here I am, usin' it to say 'Aye, these people deserve this'."

"Bullshit, Lily!" Keelan's sudden and abrupt laugh startled her, "You aren't using scriptures as some strange justification- if anything, that's what the Samaritans do. They pull a verse out of that old book and say 'See? This is why we have to hurt you! It's out of our hands, really!' You, on the other hand, have taken a verse, seen the similarities to your target, and say 'Well, if you want to follow the book so closely, I'll help you'! One's two faced, the other's poetic. See? Now!" He swept the nooses up into his arms, "When do we begin?"

***

He was going to eat his tie- it was unreasonably late to be summoned!

Matthias Leevy marched his way into the church, coats wrapped tightly around him. Close behind him was Ms. Judith Charriot, his partner in their- well, the church's finances. Never mind the brand new shiny watch on his wrist, or the new set of bona fide pearls around Judith's neck. As far as the people knew, they had given the money out to the Linon brothers to use on their shelters.

And speaking of, he saw Jamie and Johnny, bundled up in the cold autumn night and leaving their cars with the Johnson twins, Pete and Andy.

Odd… the situation must have already been dire if Pastors Phillip and James had sent one of those newfangled emails, but to seem to summon everyone? Perhaps this was more serious than he thought…

One by one, everyone began to trickle in rapidly- Nathan Barthol and Simone Sellit, politicians they gave a cut of donations to to keep them in good favor, then Tommy Diddem, then Jude Thabbus, both from their humanitarian and missionary services.

The church itself was empty, with only the sound of their echoing footsteps rumbling against the stone walls. They climbed upwards, up the stairs to their little wooden meeting room hidden in a high up alcove. Judith, in all her pearls and silks, called out.

"Pastor Evegan?"

Silence.

"Phillip?" Nathan called louder, "James?"

Perhaps he was losing his mind, but Matthias could've sworn he heard creaking from underneath him. He took only a single step forward, hoping to investigate.

The floor gave out from underneath all of them, and he could hardly think to scream before something was lassoed around his neck, releasing a sickening snap.

***

The work in the floor seemed almost shoddy. Unprepared. But Chelmey could tell that the half assed trap door had done the job, sending at least ten people plummeting to their deaths. The coroners had officially counted that only seven of the victims had died of such a fall; while three more had had their necks abruptly snapped as if hanged from the gallows, and the pastors had been strangled hours prior to being hanged themselves- all with nooses made of simple scarves.

What an awful way to go, he thought, even with how… professional the ropework seemed.

It was a damn shame, if he were to believe anything about Christ's Samaritans. However, as the case was investigated, he started receiving anonymous tips about the supposed charity. Crimes buried beneath the surface by bribes- mostly embezzlement, but other unsavory details, backed by intense research. What's more, the only real clue they were able to find was a passage from the Bible- Matthew 27:1-5, tucked underneath a very familiar fox mask.

Very familiar indeed…

Chapter 3: Nice: Santa Clause

Notes:

NOTICE: While the Naughty chapters will have a set order in the timeline, the Nice chapters are NOT. Why? I don't really know, it'd just how things came to me.

Habit made her tense around Mall Santas. Lucy tried to stay calm, she genuinely did! But, well…

"My dear Lucy," Fendi gently took her shoulder, and the juxtaposition made her realize how scrunched up she was, "You feel like a rubber band pulled far too taut. By god, how have you not snapped??"

"Sorry, love, I just- y'know, seeing Evan so close to one…"

"Baker, you and I raised him, not to mention Lily in the mix!" Al laughed harshly, "He runs into any trouble, he's going to cut his tongue out and then also bite him, then tell him off and ask if he's okay."

She snorted as she watched her son climb onto the lap of Santa Clause, already rambling about how happy he was and what he wanted (the sweet boy always started talking about what he wanted to give his mother and father). She heard a fireman's axe in there somewhere, perhaps that was concerning. Alfendi took her hand and squeezed it tight.

"It'll be fine, my dear. Deep breaths."

And breathe she did, but she was unsure if it was actually helping. She knew it wasn't even her own tension, it was Lily somewhere in the back of the system making a ruckus over old memories, even as she tried to calm herself down.

Evan's turn was eventually over, him hopping off the fat man's leg and toddling off back to them, rambling and babbling all about how Santa smelled of peppermint and gingerbread, and if they could come back tomorrow and see him again because he was just "oh so nice". On the way home, he had even begged and pleaded for a little Santa marble toy in the store window. How humorous that she and Alfendi, two individuals not entirely into the idea of a man in red visiting houses late at night, had produced a son who seemed to view Santa Clause as his most favorite person in the whole wide world. Would that ever change in time, she wondered?

Would Lily shut up about her panic if it did? In any case, her caving in to Evans sweet round eyes certainly hadn't helped.

It was a pretty fun marble toy, however. One of those perpetual motion ones where a marble was sent spiraling down a chute into a ramp that launched the marble right back into the funnel, where the toy was meant to look like a chimney and all the marbles were painted like Santa Clause and the reindeer (she didn't quite understand why the latter was going down the chimney, but oh well). And Evan seemed to get such a kick out of it, laughing and shrieking with joy each time a marble was launched back.

And, wouldn't you know it, but for a brief moment, she could hear Lily finally calm down.

Chapter 4: Naughty: Ice Skating

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Jan. 28, 1985
Victim: Tanya Skeeter
Age: 25
Cause of Death: Drowning
---
13 years old

"What a fuckin' cheat," were the first words Lily ever heard about ice skating. The little television in the living room was playing a competition of sorts, one which Keelan was watching, beer in hand. It looked like people were dancing on the ice, even dressed the part in shiny, glittery outfits. Currently on the ice was a woman in blue and black, blonde hair slicked into a tight bun, and makeup done rather immaculately. And yet…

"Why's hoo a cheat?" She asked.

"Look at her moves, Loo. You think they're any good?"

She started studying the woman's movements. Sure they seemed alright, but she saw a few shakes and stumbles that didn't seem to be a part of the plan. Surely, when she got all tens, that must have been a low score?

"Perfect tens for a shitty, amateur performance- she absolutely bribed and threatened those bastards. You see how pissy the crowd's getting?! Awful rich piece of shit…"

"I could do all that," Lily scoffed, "And on my bare feet too!"

Keelan cackled, "Such confidence, my dear!" He hiccupped, his voice suddenly dropping low and challenging, "Maybe you ought to look into beating her yourself?"

And who was she to deny such a taunt?

Tanya Skeeter was her name, a "nepo baby" (or so was the term Keelan had used) with a gross amount of inheritance money and an almost impressive record of medals for her performances. Odd, seeing as most interviews with her described her as "mediocre" and "amateur". Odder still, that all those who criticized her ended up dead or severely hospitalized, and even odder than that was how many of her competitive opponents ended up unable to continue in the business! She had no doubt that Ms. Skeeter was behind such carnage- her home was a death trap in itself! God, three balconies, a walk in freezer, a private lake? So many murderous opportunities, combined with such clearly envious tantrums? Hooooo whee, it was almost comically obvious! But if she had enough money to have a mansion that big, Lily had no doubt that she had more than enough to buy the silence of useless bobbies.

Well then! If she liked beating down her betters until she was at the top, what better humiliation than her doing the same?

The difference was that she could withstand the chill of ice against her feet.

The practice itself was… arduous. Nothing short of some new hellish experience. She slipped more times than she could hope to count and fell on her head so often that she was only glad her noggin was naturally tough; she had even plunged into the water and made her knuckles bleed from how hard she had punched and beat the ice in order to break free. At some point she had even decided to waterboard herself in the frigid waters to get reacquainted with the sharp pain and feeling.

It… gave Keelan and the gang a couple of heart attacks.

But, no matter how many slips and falls, no matter how many frostbites she nearly got on the tips of her toes and fingers, no matter how many times Keelan draaaagged her back to his house while incessantly scolding her, she knew she was a fast learner. The trials and the tribulations stuck like burrs, and, soon, she was out on the rink in bare feet, gliding along other kids her age whilst avoiding the blades on skates. She was no professional, make no mistake, but she and the Makepeaces knew it was enough for her to get the job done- especially since she was going with her axe.

It was time for one last performance out of Tanya Skeeter.

***

Stupid Rinqe, stupid Spenn, stupid judges- all of them needed to be taught a lesson! She needed to be the best, she deserved it! And she'd do the same things she'd always done, seeing as no one ever did bother to suspect Tanya before. After all, stagehands mess up all the time! A loose light fixture falling on the panelists wouldn't be looked into, and then she could get Daddy to put some of his friends in their place! But how, she wondered, would she get rid of her competition this time? Pushing them into the Thames this late into winter was always quick, but she risked them surviving and telling on her.

Tanya had taken to skating out on the lake out back when thinking of ways to rid herself of obstacles, blades of her skates cutting into the ice on the surface- to hell with how many times she'd been told not to, the ice could hold her! And it's not like she was practicing, why would she need to do that? She was a natural, after all, it's just that no one else could see her talent!

She had to be a star, she just had to!

So lost in thought was she that it took her some time to notice that she was not as alone as she thought she was. Bright red whizzing past her, a loud crack echoing in the open space so far behind the manor. Her head snapped up. Some distance away from her now, dressed in a bright red dress, was some kid, some kid she was already pissed at for being on her lake, already pissed at for daring to show off like she was somehow better.

But what really got her was this stupid little baby's lack of skates- she was sliding and showing off without any equipment, freezing her stupid feet off like some know-it-all! She… had something else in her hands though. Something long that she was using to steer and stop and go. it looked like-

Tanya hardly had time to finish the thought when the crazy kid slammed it into the ice again!

"Hey!!" She screeched, "Are you fucking insane!?"

She said nothing, only slamming her stick into the ice and using it to propel her forwards far too fast. Her heart was starting to beat in her ears as the crack grew wider and wider- oh god, her skates were losing their grip, and it suddenly occurred to her that the stick in the kid's hands was an axe.

Tanya tried to start moving, she really did! She had to, she was going to die otherwise. But she had never once bothered to see the truth of the matter: she never had been good at what she did, and she had tantrumed her way to victory so many times that she was never really prepared to save herself from failure. She didn't know the first thing about staying calm, about properly walking on skates, about swimming in frigid winter waters.

And she certainly knew nothing about how to save herself from underneath the ice.

The sound of metal harshly digging into the lake, a loud and splitting crack, the briefest of screams for help that left poor Skeeter's mouth wide open to fill with water, and a very obvious hole in the ice that she was never going to find again- at least, not in time.

And above it all, blurred by the frosted surface, slid and skated Lily in a taunting manner, waiting and waiting to see if she needed to finish the job with one swift swing.

But she didn't.

***

Poor girl. At least her father seemed torn up about her drowning; he'd told Chelmey how he'd warned her so many times to not go out onto the lake- the ice was always just thick enough for him to worry. To the concerning relief of the staff he had questioned, it seemed that her luck had finally run out.

Again, seemed.

But a few sweeps across the lake turned a simple accident into a murder; they found a mask just underneath the ice, caught within the reeds.

"It's the same damn mask, Barton!" He had fumed in his office, "And it pops up every few months- just long enough an random enough for us to drop the previous case and have nothing to go on! It's insufferable, I say!"

"Indeed, sir," the constable said in between chews. "And all of the staff's got their alibis- I doubt it could be any of them! Although it's strange, sir…"

"What's strange, Barton?"

"Well, just the other day, a few of the manor's staff came in to fess up some things about Ms. Skeeter. Apparently, the girl and her father had been bribing competition officials into giving Tanya a higher score. The young lady was quite notorious for it in her own home- seemed that none of the staff cared much about her dying," he gulped some food down, "It just seems odd that they all have such perfect alibis, but can all agree that they think Ms. Tanya morbidly deserved her death!"

The analysis shocked the inspector for a moment. Could it be that there was a coverup somewhere in between the statements? Should he choose to believe them and push to make an arrest against Mr. Skeeter for what he could only describe as fraud? He could try and push harder to get someone to fess up to the murder, as well- if he really wanted to. But if he was wrong for even a moment, and their real killer went free…

Would he be proving a point only they knew?

Chapter 5: Nice: Tree Topper

"Lucy, my dear, this is not a good idea-!"

"Prof, you are not as heavy as you seem to think you are!"

Anyone who walked into the lobby of Scotland Yard would wonder how two of their greatest detectives got into the position of one on top of the other.

It had started when Dustin had set up the annual Christmas tree- which had started as bare bones and slowly been covered in ornaments throughout the season. But when Lucy had been asked about the star, she had been told that one hadn't ever been bought yet. So, with confidence, she had used her own money to buy a simple, almost cheaply so, shiny star to place at the very top.

Problem. Upon approaching the tree, Lucy quickly realized that… she was far too short.

She didn't trust the chairs, they either spun or were too rickety for her to have proper faith in them. She considered hauling a table over, but there weren't any close enough. Eventually, Alfendi had come into the lobby to check on her, seemingly worried. A mistake on his part, really.

"Lucy?" He had asked, a brow raised and almost frowning.

"Oh! Prof!" She exclaimed, "Good, you're here- would youuu mind helping me with summat? Tree topping related summats?"

"Beg pardon?"

"I need you to pick me up so I can reach the top!"

"…Baker, do you see how I'm built?" Al squinted, "Do you want to topple over like a house of cards?"

"Please?! I'll carry you if you don't want to carry me!" She was already handing him the star in order to pick him up, Fendi starting to stammer.

"Lucy! Lucy, my dear, really, honestly! This isn't going to end well- Lucy!"

And that was what had led them to the current shenanigans, attracting attention where Lucy had hoisted her superior officer onto her shoulders with surprising strength, hoping to reach the very top of the tree. And, to be fair, it was working quite well! She had a firm grip on Alfendi and steady stance, feet planted firmly on the ground; the problem arose when poor Alfendi didn't have the heart to trust his dear Baker and started squirming like a toddler escaping bath time.

"Prof, please, you can't keep writhing- Prof- Needle Legs, I swear to fuck-!" Lily came to the front, grip tightening so hard it'd be sure to leave some kind of bruise, "Stand the fuck still! Ya're the bud one causin' problems right now, Fends!"

She didn't know if it was the ferocity that got him to steady out- with some mild wobbling- but she'd take the wins where she could get them. Besides, now she could test standing on her tiptoes.

"Lily!!"

Never mind.

The star did make its way onto the tree in the end, a solid ten minutes after Lu had entered the lobby, and, well…

"Ya're squirmin' again- fuck!"

It did still end with a topple.

Chapter 6: Naughty: Candy Cane

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Dec. 1, 1985
Victim(s): Christopher Kreegle
Age: 58
Cause of Death: Blood Loss
---
14 years old

Notes:

TW: Pedophilic character.

Peppermint was a new experience for Lily. She had heard of pepper, Ms. Chére had introduced her to that, and she knew what mint was, Illia had given her a taste. So pepper-mint had to be… some combination of the two, right? Spicy and cold?

As it turns out, she had been fairly close. The red and white striped candy burned in her mouth, but in a cool, almost refreshing way. It fascinated her in a way that was almost addictive- a nice treat while she searched for a victim. She was in the process of doing research on a potential target when she learned something else rather interesting about peppermint.

Or, more specifically, candy canes.

She was searching through newspaper clippings and written notes when she felt a swift, sharp sting in her arm; she yelped, whipping around to see Diane.

"Fuck!" She hissed, "What'd ya do!?"

"Whoops! Sorry Looooo, accidentally nicked you." She stuck her tongue out like some apology.

"What'd ya even slice me wi'??"

"Candy cane! Mickey gave it to me- you know? The mechanic Papa knows?" She held up the sweet like some prize, "Licked it into as sharp of a point as I could! You could kill someone with this if you aimed right!"

She'd been… stabbed by a fucking candy?

Fascinating.

The notion kept popping up in her head as she confirmed her target. A Mr. Christopher Kreegle, a local politician known for his conservative and bigoted practices (that still seemed to garner support from nationalists); that was enough for him to be on her shitlist, make no mistake, but it had not been the nail in the coffin, surprisingly enough! No, the crimes that sealed his fate were the pedophilic advances he was notorious for amongst impoverished families on the opposing political side, and the steps he took to silence them.

He liked to aim young, it seemed, as most of his victims were six or younger, some being a few years older, but never double digits. It made her want to puke, honestly. It didn't help when she learned about "mall Santas", and learned that Kreegle was one himself during the holiday season, using the proximity to train his victims like dogs by handing them sweets. So strange, pretending to be such a kind figure when you yourself were such a piece of shit! What she found more horrifying was the way he'd deal with the families that pushed to sue or fight him- from something as simple as harassment to full on hired assassins; the man would send the freshly orphaned children to some foster home foundation he had raised "as a Christian kindness".

Bullshit. A deeper look revealed the festering cancer from within- the entire place was just some fancy front for a trafficking ring meant to further push the abuse and pedophilic rot. It broke her heart wondering how many poor babies had been shipped off into the jaws of hungry monsters.

She would have to ask the Labowtit triplets if they could find them…

In the meantime, if Ol' Christopher loved giving sweets to children, maybe she could tie that in somehow with his "Santa" schtick. The only question that was left was where would she find so many candy canes?

***

Every day he did this, he was glad he didn't allow stupid elf volunteers to monitor his little corner of the mall. He couldn't have strangers being so close to him, trying to spoil his fun with all the little snotty brats- it ruined the mood! Why, if he had allowed volunteers, he wouldn't have been able to get close and personal with as many as he did today! He was practically giving out his "good girl" and "good boy" treats left and right, to his absolute delight!

He was in the back, packing his chair, removing his coat, swiftly gathering money to pay a man for his… "services", when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see… a child? Well, a teenager. Too old for him to have fun with regardless. Dressed rather oddly too: a red dress hardly fit for the weather and a white fox mask tied to her waist; what holiday did she think it was?

"And what," his voice dropped, "Are you doing back here, little girl?"

She didn't respond, only staring at him with unblinking red eyes, sucking the end of a candy cane- was she trying to rile him up? It popped out of her mouth softly and… it looked rather sharp.

"Wantsta know the difference between yer assassins and I?" She finally said, low and soft, in a whisper as she started shambling towards him.

He felt his shoulders tense- how did she know that? He'd been very meticulous in hiding all that evidence as deep as he could, how the hell did a child know anything about that? He suddenly became acutely aware of the lack of cameras back here, and he started to reach into his pocket for his phone. His heart leapt into his throat as she started moving faster, god- he hardly blinked and she was in his face!

"You kill the innocent, and ya hardly bother to kill 'em yersel'."

There was a sharp sting, right to his neck, and he felt his body grow cold, darkness swallowing him up in seconds. The creak of a vent opening, the pitter patter of fading footsteps…

Then nothing.

***

She knew the taste of blood well. It came with the territory of the past, between licking her wounds and fighting for her life scratching and biting at a man who wanted nothing more than her dead. Blood was an iron so strong it hurt your nose and dried your throat in the most awful of ways, tangy and grotesquely moreish to the point of pain. Combined with peppermint, it burned on her tongue and almost made her feel gross and beastly, but who was she to waste candy she'd freely found for a swift and easy kill?

But seriously, who in their right mind unpacked in a storage room that had no cameras whatsoever? Honestly, that was just asking to be killed!

"Ugh! Lily, that one's bloody!" Diane had grimaced with her tongue out, the muscle more red than usual from her own peppermints.

"Well, it's not goin' to get eaten otherwise! 'Sides, means the bobbies aren't goin' to find the weapon!" She shot back, crunching the pointed tip of the cane clean off. Not her favorite taste, despite her familiarity. Maybe she was growing spoiled.

But she supposed she could afford to care about that a little less than she used to.

Chapter 7: Nice: Holiday Shopping

"Your brother really is a simple man, you know."

Lucy and Hilda were looking through the aisles of the store, glancing at all the bits and bobbles, clothes and books and all manner of things in search of perfect gifts.

"Uhhhhh Lucas, right?" Lucy hummed, "You're the one dating him after all!"

"Yes," Hilda answered, picking up a cozy sweater, "And he's such a 'Anything that pleases you' type man! I know he likes the occasional bit of makeup, I remember that from a while back. But it's rather hard to pin down his other interests!"

"Well, not for nothing, I know he likes bread. Baking it, eating it, dishes with it- he just likes bread. Aaaand drawing, but only with pencils. And he likes. Really thick sweaters. Almost restrictively thick, even."

Hilda hummed in approval, taking the light brown sweater she'd been looking at and plopping it into the cart as if that were confirmation. She was even tempted to go back and pick up one of those stupid "Jesus Crust" stuffies she'd seen a few aisles back, but she was unsure whether or not that would be… appropriate for him, given his own personal traumas.

They were kind of funny though.

Lucy, on the other hand, was looking at all the winter dresses available trying to pick out something for Loosha or Luna; one was a girly little girl at heart, and always did love dressing up in something cute, while the other was more reserved, dressing up in simple little numbers. So many options, all unique and cute in their own way- some with sparkles and fluffy trims, others sleek and elegant. She settled on something velvety and blue, with a flared skirt, fluffed trim, and a shawl stitched into the sleeves. It was cute, and oh-so perfectly Loosha. She couldn't find much of anything for Luna, but that would be fine; she'd undoubtedly find her some books anyway. Hilda, seeming content with clothes after plucking a few more sweaters and jeans off of the racks (some of which she'd grabbed so Lu could gift them to her brother), joined her in scanning the rest of the aisles.

They separated at some point, with Hilda going into cookware and Lu searching the books. Hilda was quick to find some cooking utensils and mini muffin tins, perfect for Lucas, and they were cheap enough that she even bought another set for him to keep in her home when he visited! Lu, on the other hand, was in decision hell. So many titles, so many genres- what did Luna not like again?

…Romantic dramas. She didn't like the tension and the arguing. She did however, like a variety of other dramas, and sweet romances with heartstring tugging. She also liked mysteries, and the supernatural and the fantastical, but she didn't like thrillers and horror.

Maybe "Songbird of the Island" by Annie Dretche? Yeah, Lucille remembered something about Luna wanting more Dretche in her library. And there were some period dramas she they remembered Luna mentioning too. She picked it all up just as Hilda came around the corner with the cart.

"Find everything you wanted to get for her?"

Lu nodded with a perky smile, "That just leaves Lucien and the Prof left, right? Lucien likes writing and sewing, so I know what to get him, but Prof…?"

"Al always did like his mugs, I'll tell you that," Hilda chuckled, "And Fendi kept that part. Al also did love a good lighter- not always to smoke, mind you! Sure, he smoked on occasion, but he also just really liked collecting unique lighters. Never understood it."

Huh. Interesting.

Hilda went off on her own again, shopping for other members of Scotland Yard, friends and family separate from Lu's. Lucien's gifts was simple- she was getting him a miniature sewing kit, of course! She would've gotten him an older typewriter as well, but her mother had let it slip to her that she was going to gift him her old one ("He'll get more use out of it than I did" is what she had said). And then last, but certainly not least: her darling Prof. She knew she could get him a mug, sure, but… she felt that that was too simple. He'd helped her so much with her father, with helping her brothers and sisters and fighting back against their past, she felt like she just couldn't give him enough for all of that. What started as her wandering from the mugs to the lighters- one of which she did end up picking up, one shaped like a puzzle piece-, ended with her in front of the fancier, more pricey gifts, and she found herself standing in front of- oddly enough- a violin.

She… vaguely remembered something, back during her first few months. It was vague, so it was more than likely Lily's memory, but still. It was of Alfendi, looking through some of the boxes in the Mystery Room. She had heard him mourn under his breath about a few broken strings and a missing bow, and looked to see him holding a busted up violin.

The one in front of her was. A tad more expensive, but looked awfully similar, and she did have the money…

It ended up in her cart, in a bag, and in Hilda's trunk alongside all her other gifts for everyone. And as they drove back home, snow starting to fall, she couldn't help but feel a warmth in her heart. She was going to have fun wrapping it all up, and by god, she just couldn't wait to see everyone's face as everything was opened.

Chapter 8: Naughty: Pine Needles

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Jan. 16, 1986
Victim: Avery Green
Age: 36
Cause of Death: Traumatic Brain Injury
---
14 years old

"Protesters of AverGreen Lumber. dispersed by stray dogs; 3 dead and over 12 fatally injured"

The headline had caught her eye in the newspaper Illia had delivered early that morning. AverGreen was a massive lumber company, with nasty rumors about its lumbermills and sources of wood that, according to the newspaper, "had been disproven multiple times over the years". It was run by a well off billionaire: Avery Green; oddly enough, the newspaper described him as a family man, despite that research she had done on her own told her that A) his wives had long since been dead, and he had remarried multiple times, and B) the children he'd had or inherited from his marriages were either estranged, disowned, or dead. Odder still, was how she learned that Mr. Green owned dogs himself, and it occurred to her that the news never once described what the dogs looked like…

Others might have said she was stretching, but under the house of Makepeace, her conspiracies were all but encouraged!

"Never trust a news story that doesn't give information that you think should be obvious, my girl!" Keelan had told her with a downright wicked grin, "Dive deep into your books and newspaper clippings and eyewitnesses and those computers at the library- perhaps you'll find something~"

And find things she most certainly did! God, Avery Green was just an absolute treasure trove of crimes and sickness- from massive environmental damage, to bribing news stations and paying to have as much as he could about him buried far below the surface, from suspicious life insurance payouts to cheap (even borderline illegal) labor in his company to go through safety loopholes to buried public admissions that he had, in fact, sicced his three dogs on protestors, and had even removed their collars to give the illusion of strays. So many deaths and blood on this man's hand, and he'd done everything in his power to silence the ones who tried to fight him- all while tearing down woods for a third manor home somewhere in the wilderness!

She could slice him up in one of his many thousands of lumbermills around the UK, like one of those animated movies where the hero or the damsel was threatened by a buzzsaw. It'd be fun, taunting and quite fitting to have him dismembered and packed away like a tree. But on the other hand…

A torturous little game of wild goose chase sounded all the more fun.

She needed help, of course. She'd gotten some of the Makepeace gang to help, with Perfect helping drive them out in a disguised truck, Cia coming along to cut power and surveillance, Rowan and Keelan bringing shovels, and Illia and Seán provided her a whole boatload of needles. As soon as everyone had left and all was quiet, they made their move. After Cia had shut down the cameras, she led Rowan and Keelan through the lumberyard, shovels in hand. They were approaching the gate when something came bolting for the chain link fence, viciously growling and barking.

Dogs.

Big dogs, with stout silhouettes and slobber flinging from their jowls. Keelan had started to pull out a gun when Lily stopped him.

"Hey! None of that, ya know how I am wi' innocent lives."

"And you got a plan to deal with trained dogs, my girl?"

"Obviously! I may not have known what a dog were when uz met, but I knowed how to handle 'em!" She smiled smugly as she went up to the fence on her own, bold, casually, until she was mere inches from the three violent beasts barking in her face. She said nothing, only staring unblinkingly, glaring without anger, only with some silent, dominant power. It didn't matter how big the dog was, they always seemed to surrender when she did that on her way to London. And even now, the logic stood true, as the barking died down quickly, the dogs even beginning to lie down in submission.

It was a simple matter of walking in and getting to work from there on out, with Lily keeping the dogs in check as they started digging a deep pit into the ground, a feat that lasted many hours into the night; even Rowan had to nap in the middle of it all despite his experience as a seasoned assassin. Lily was the one who finished digging, starting rigging up the remaining traps she needed to set up, even started filling in the hole with the provided needles she'd been gifted. Large needles, small needles, all matter of sizes, all going into the freshly dug hole in the ground. And lost in the middle of the growing pile?

A very simple key.

***

The phone in his bedroom woke him from his slumber. Groaning, Avery rolled out of his bed, staggering towards the phone and picking it up. By God, this better have been important.

"Hello?" He grumbled.

"Ya know, despite yer efforts to hide yer misdeeds, there's olez just summat to slip through the cracks, isn't there?" A younger voice came through on the other end. What the hell was a kid doing on the line?

"Who is this? What could you possibly-" He suddenly heard barking in the background; he knew those barks quite well too. He felt himself wake up faster than ever, blood already boiling, "What are you doing to my dogs?"

"Ohhh calm yer bitchness, Mr. Green, I haven't done owt! Yet. You know where ya left them to guard, so I imagine I'll be seein' ya very soon, aye?"

And she hung up with a click. He'd never moved so fast in his life, not bothering to get dressed yet tossing on his coat, grabbing his keys, wallet if there was ransom, and his cell. He practically slammed himself into his car, fumbling with putting the keys into the ignition before finally speeding down the road until he reached the beaten path into the woods he had those foreigners working in, driving recklessly along the dirt until he came upon his lumberyard. He could hear his dogs, the dogs he'd left here specifically to guard his lumberyard, barking their heads off inside the building where they cut the wood. Frantic, he tried the door, but it was locked. He swore under his breath and started pounding on it. That's when the splitting screech of the intercom came on, and he heard that wretched little voice again.

"Woooow, ya actually came along! I didn't know ya had the heart to care about other lives! Yer wives, those kids, yer workers, they don't mean shite, but the dogs? Ya come runnin' like one yersel'." The tormentor laughed, "Ahh, but ya're skennin' for the key, right? Please, Mr. Green, turn yer attention to the lovely little pit I spent so much time preparin'!"

It was then that he noticed it. A deep pit filled to the brim with needles, some sticking out of the walls like some awful spike trap, just waiting to swallow him whole. He looked around in disbelief. Surely…?

"Oh, but aye!" He finally thought to look towards the little building where he knew the intercom setup was, and his blood ran cold. He knew that mask. How could he not? It'd been all over the news for months now- from radio to newspaper to television!

"Well?" The York-Lanc Fox's voice dropped lower, "Yer poor babbies are waitin', Avery. I'd start searchin'."

God, it was going to hurt. None of these were poison, right? The Fox was a sure sign of death, so he was going to die in this pit of needles, wasn't he? But his dogs…

Taking a shaky breath, he jumped in, and was immediately met with stinging pain. One of the needles was large, and had pierced through his finger. He cursed loudly, but started sifting for a key. He grew more and more frantic the longer it took, fearing for his dogs' safety and trying not to lose so much blood that he'd be vulnerable. He needed to survive this- he couldn't die here! If he did, that damn Fox would expose all the carefully hidden secrets he'd spent so long hiding, spent so much money bribing the news specifically to hide the truth!

By the time he finally found the key, there were needles stuck in his arms, he was bleeding slowly but surely from enough holes in him that he was starting to get woozy, and the cold wasn't helping. Yet, he still needed to get out… and he wasn't going to get out without at least one large needle going through his hand…

His screams did not reach anyone beyond the road. But he had the key! He had the key, and he was alive, and the key fit, and he could get-

The world came crashing down on him. His dogs were not here. What was here was the Fox- supposedly having come here while he was struggling in the pit- holding three collars and a taut wire. The dogs? A simple recording. He never got the chance to turn and run, because the York-Lanc Fox let go of the wire, and a sawblade was sent flying into the back of Avery Green's skull.

***

The stray dogs had, apparently, been released into DC Layton's office through the window early this morning. Three of them, only one with a collar. Of course, what had caught Chelmey's eye was the fact that, attached to that collar, was a certain tell-tale mask, and a note:

-I'm not stupid, and I'm not cruel. But I can most certainly play the part to get what I want from prickly, manipulative little bastards who are actually cruel. Just tell these sweet babies to "Find their master"!-

He gathered up his men, the dogs already setting back off to look for whoever it was the Fox had killed.

They made their way to a tucked away lumberyard, where workers were already murmuring and gathering. They told the officers how they were just about to call, seeing as their boss, a Mr. Avery Green, was dead inside the sawing quarters.

And by god, it was… it was awful.

The man had needles stuck in him, there was an ever growing puddle of blood pooling around him- partially from the needle wounds, but mostly from what Chelmey could only deduce was the killing blow: a saw blade buried more than halfway into his head. Forensics detected light impact trauma as well, so the blade had been sent flying at him at a considerably dangerous speed. And then there was the pit in the middle of the yard, packed and lined with needles…

It was something straight out of a horror movie, if you asked him; he couldn't even help but share some of DC Layton's thoughts and questions on the matter. What had Green been hiding? What was the motive? How did they murder humans so brutally, yet drew the line at dogs that could be used to sniff them out?

What game of fox and field mouse had their killer played in these very grounds?

Chapter 9: Nice: Family

Getting to reacquaint with her family was… going to be hard.

It had been so long, even longer for, say, Lucille, who had shut herself inside the walls of their mind since they were- what, ten? Eleven years old? She only knew so much about her own brothers and sisters until it was nothing. Hell, even if she did, they knew next to nothing about her. Not Lucille and her growing interests, not Lily, not Lucy…

They'd been too afraid of the other two to bother-

No.

Lucien had been afraid, and he had spread that fear to everyone else. And looking back, they understood it now. A child, already broken and terrified, unable to comprehend the sudden wrath of his father and forced to suddenly take care of four siblings. He must have had a routine, there must have been an organized chaos to the madness where he knew how they all would act, and he could respond to their struggles accordingly in order to keep himself sane.

With her and Lily spawning into existence? It must have been such a jarringly awful experience for her brother in an already awful situation…

She stood at the doorway to her- Lucille's mother's home. She could hear everyone else inside, talking like nothing had changed, like a simple family reunion. Heart pounding, she lifted a fist and knocked.

The talking stopped abruptly, and for a moment, she felt like she was a stranger again. No wonder Lily was being awfully quiet right now…

Her heart skipped a few beats and dipped into her stomach when the person to open the door was, in fact, Lucien himself. There was a silence between them, a silence where he studied her, looking her over like he was trying to discern something. Trying to discern her very existence. Was there a sadness in his eyes? A hope? She couldn't even think straight enough to use her detective skills with how badly her heart was hammering in her throat, ricocheting between her throat and her stomach and her ribcage. It hurt so much, all that pain and rejection was coming back; she was going to cry-

Someone was holding her tightly.

Lucien.

"My sister." He whispered, like he was testing the words, both for her and himself.

"…Aye," she choked. "I am, right?"

"Aye."

And Lucy could handle that confirmation simply; Lily, on the other hand, came barreling to the front, letting out a loud, pained cry. She sobbed and sobbed, holding on to her brother. Her brother. She'd wanted to hear that for so, so long. All the days and nights, the weeks and days, the months, the years of her being feral and violent in the dungeons, trying to mimic Lucille but always in too much of a brash and brutish way, just for a little affection. Affection she never got to have, affection she had abandoned all hope of getting and had been the catalyst for her trying to leave the dungeons in the first place.

And now, here she was, here they were, hearing that affection after all these years.

It felt like the weight of all the universe had finally been lifted from their shoulders, a tension that they'd gotten so used to that it felt so normal finally releasing into cathartic relief.

They stood there for a moment, holding each other until Lily finally quieted down into sniffles. Lucien held her hand as he led her inside.

"Ya're not…" He started, "Ya're not Lucille anymore, art? Ya're someone else."

She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Nay. Ah- but Lucille's still here, Lucien. Hoo says hi." She was, but she had wanted to give Lily and Lucy their own chances to finally be loved by their brothers and sisters. Lucien's eyes seemed to light up hearing his original sister was still around.

"There… There's another, aye? More Yorkshire. Peppy."

"Mhm! That'd be me," Lucy sheepishly waved, "But… Lily's been the one who's wanted to talk to you most. She always missed you so much."

He started tearing up, "I'm so sorry, Lu… I'm so sorry, I were so cruel for nowe reason!" He wiped his eyes, "After… after ya left, the guilt started eatin' me alive… and everyone else started missin' ya too. Loosha cried for weeks, and Lucas and Luna got quiet. I wish I hadno' kept pullin' 'em away from ya."

"Ya were feeard of me," Lily mumbled, "I don't blame ya anymore. I just. Wish it'd been different back then."

He hugged her again, and she melted into the love she'd missed out on.

"It can be now," he whispered, and she knew that, this time, it was finally true.

Notes:

So funny thing is that I have wanted to make a full story bit out of this idea, soooooo if I have motive, I may write a more extensive piece for this in the future!

Chapter 10: Naughty: Nutcracker

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Dec. 4, 1986
Victim(s): Newton Craker, Matt Akurr, Eugene O'Syde, Aaron Forse, Warson Crymes, Wadsworth Oylman
Age: Ranging 58-63
Cause of Death: Traumatic Head Injury
---
15 years old

Notes:

So, this one is one of my longest chapters yeeeet, and it might be the result of both: me working late and thus being tired and rambling, OR I was possessed by the Ghost of Christmas Writing. That is for you to decide :)

Mickey Nicc was an odd sort of man to Lily. He was jolly, fat and round, a full red face and head of salt and pepper hair in one glorious goatee, hands covered in scars with grease and grime stuck under his nails; he was always in overalls, clean or otherwise covered stained with grease- even with his clothes being entirely in one piece, she had honestly mistaken him for another victim of horrors like hers at first. She had even tried to bandage him up once or twice before he corrected her with a full bodied belly laugh and an ushering into his auto repair shop.

He taught her about the way cogs turned and how engines roared, the dangers of oil and how to listen to the heartbeat of complex machines and the ticks of systems.

Her favorite machine- she had to admit- was the hydraulic press.

She'd swamped herself with research on a target- well, multiple targets, but she was mainly aiming for the oil baron king at the top at it all: Newton Craker, insultingly called "Oilskin" by the lower classes. He was your typical oil baron who would have probably traded his family for oil fields if it didn't spoil his reputation amongst the wealthy. He had a few select friends who were militiamen and ambassadors- perhaps some of them were even good at one point, before they shot to the top and could start sending other army boys to kill in the name of keeping Britain safe.

Bullshit, of course, half the targets those armies destroyed were destroyed based on "rumors that dangerous war criminals were taking shelter and using it as a base", but when the dust settled, surprise surprise, only the bodies of women, children, and unassociated men were found. It was genocide fueled by xenophobia and the greed for oily blood money, if anything. And Newton provided all the funding needed to go out into those foreign lands and tear the place apart and pick it clean.

Disgusting.

Mickey had actually been the one to steer her towards him, talking about the man with a fierce spit to the ground and a venomous annoyance. She'd been doing a deeper dive from retrieved evidence and testimony from the living, the whir and clinking of rustling tools providing white noise, when she had heard the most sickening mix of a crack! and a bang! shoot through the workshop.

"WOOOOWHEE!" Mickey had howled with delight. Well, at least he wasn't dead… Lily put her notes aside and went to check on him regardless.

"Mick?" She called out, "The fuck were that?"

"The beauty of 'ydraulics, that is!" He laughed, "Just used it to crack one ov 'em pesky jawbreaker candies!"

And sure enough, she inspected the pieces that had gone flying all over the place; sure enough, they were large chunks of a jawbreaker, some even sharp enough to poke her.

"How…?" She mumbled and mused.

Despite talking to herself, Mickey heard her with a glint in his eyes, suddenly bringing her around to the back of the contraction, "Well, quite simple! You see this container 'ere?" She nodded, "Well, it's filled with water! When I turn this thing on, all the water pressured- reeeeal pressed and powerful. And this tube 'ere pumps all that water into this big ol' bit way up 'ere!" He gestured to the top half of it, which was boxed for the most part, but she could imagine it was more impressive inside.

"And allll that water gets put into this tube, and in that tube is a piston- this fellow 'angin' outside the tube. The water gets pressed into the piston, and that brings it all the way down, down down until this plate," he smacked the square plate at the bottom of the piston, "Meets whatever you wants to break! Now, you've tried squeezin' water, 'ave you?"

What a silly little question…

"Aye. Doesno' work- just goes between my fingers and hands."

"Right you are! Because yer 'ands don't have a ship shape tight seal! The piston does, and that makes a prison for the water, but that water's got nowhere else to go now, does it? So it puts it on the pist, and the pressure builds and builds and buiiiiiilds… until boom! Shoots right through and breaks whatever's on the other side of the plate!" He laughed, "Of course, I'm not tellin' you all the bits and bells about these things- we'd be 'ere for ten straight days if I were allowed to do that!"

She was listening, but… the idea fascinated her. Sure, the press was rather slow, but the fact that all it took was a bit of water pressure before inevitably…

"Awwwww I know that look, little lady!" Mickey grinned, "You've got somethin' planned for ol' Oilskin, 'ave you?"

A sly smile tugged at the edge of her lips.

"Not that it fits his crimes, but… Ya remember the nutcrackers that Perfect bought me and Diane?"

It took a while, with Lily being in charge of essentially carving into large chunks of wood with her axe, and Mickey being in charge of the mechanisms- the hydraulics and the gears, the joints and other moving bits and pieces that needed to be fitted so that the whole thing didn't collapse. It had to be large enough for the goal in mind, with a way to dispose of the bodies that would result. After a test with a watermelon, they even painted it for fun (it came out rather messy, of course, but she had to admit that she had fun with Mickey). In the end, they had one impressively sized, functional nutcracker in a rented warehouse- courtesy of Perfect, bless her- prepped and ready to serve its country of York-Lanc Vigilantism.

***

She had Mickey drive her in order to gather all the men, the back of his truck large enough to carry all of them; excluding Newton, there was about 5 men to get. They'd moved under the cover of shadows, some of them she swiped from their homes, some even from their beds, some inches from their spouses and some with a struggle. 6 men- Newton included- all tossed into the back of the truck with all the disgrace a man could be given, tied like butcher cuts to be hung and packed into the hidden compartment below the truck bed like sardines. At the warehouse, Mickey helped to drag the bodies in whilst Lily set up the last tiny piece of the puzzle: a radio to fill in the screams and pass the time. It was somewhat frivolous, almost whimsical, but she was in the mood for it, seeing how over the top they'd gone for this kill!

She set up one of the bodies, a Mr. Matt Akurr, the lowest one on the pyramid of Craker's friends, into the gaping metal maw of the nutcracker, and set the radio to the wonderful music channel playing all those Christmas songs all the time.

The stirring was instant, some more startled and alert than others, some needing to be splashed with a bit of cold water to get them fully up. Of course, what really lit the fire, what really shook them all awake was her mask- how could it not? She'd made such a stellar reputation in the world, after all, all across the news in all its forms; she just couldn't help but feel elated and prideful that just the sight of her mask was enough to warn these men of their inevitable and impending death. It was good!

Fear could be spread to others like them.

She started softly humming along with the Christmas songs on the radio as she started up the press, just in time for Mr. Akurr to realize the position he was in. He whined and screamed, and practically begged for her to stop this awful contraption, "Please, please! I have a family!" He had bawled. She started to form a rebuttal, but Mickey, oddly enough, took the words straight from her mouth.

"And why should the Fox care?" He had scoffed coldly, much unlike his usual nature, "You know, the people you allowed to die for the sake of expandin' Mr. Craker's fortune 'ad families too, right? But I s'pose they don't matter because they're foreign and poor, you're rich and Brit, and you want oil money."

The plate closed in on his head, pressing down. down.. down… screaming insults and denial from the pain…

Until there was the sickening crack of bones and the squishing of flesh and muscle, his eyes popping out like a morbid cartoon character before they, too, were squished. The blood and the sinew stuck to the plate and the platform and they separated, a headless corpse left behind; with the simple pull of a lever, that corpse was dropped down a chute into the belly of their massive, mechanical beast. And in orderly fashion, like a diligent worker, Lily came and took the next victim: Eugene O'Syde. Struggle as he might, wriggling like the little worm he was, Lily was stronger than she looked, and the Fox was not one to let go of her prey. She carried him up to the crushing guillotine and threw him onto the platform, his face colliding with and smearing the remnants of his comrade, the pitiful rat bursting into tears as she simply started up the press all over again.

Four men left, three men left, two… the hysteria and raw fear shot through them again and again like trapped rats, some of them even trying to chew through the ropes that bound them! Most of them, as their numbers dwindled, called her a monster, a madman.

"Ohhh, I'm mad alright!" She couldn't help but laugh as she placed down the fourth man, a Mr. Warson Crymes, "A fuckin' loopy lunatic, even, if ya asked my old man! But if I'm insane for killin' others, what does that make ya an' all these other lads? Pleas of insanity certainly never stopped you from killin' others, now did it, Mr. Crymes?" She started up the press again with sass and delight, "I wonder… how many childer did ya tell yer men to blow up and shoot because of rumors and 'anonymous tips' ya made up?"

By the time she finally got to the grand finale of it all, the plate was littered with shards of bones and loose pieces of sinew, stained with blood that was congealing; the stench of iron stabbed her nose something fierce, and the poor mouth of the nutcracker looked like it had simply been a very messy eater. She practically waltzed her way over to Newton, who was trying his oh-so best to wriggle away, crawling like a snail along the concrete floor of the warehouse. She hopped on top of him, pressing him down as tears poured down his face and incoherent, blubbering screams flowed from his mouth.

"Aaaaaand you! The king of it all! The Oilskin himsel'! The man wi' alllll the brass int world from all the oil you've sucked dry out of the earth, and yet it's still. Not. Enough! Ya just need more, more, more, even if it means a few cities need to die to be out of the way!" She stepped off, swiftly grabbing him by his fancy silk robe collar and pulling him up. She took her mask off- she wanted him to look her dead in the eyes, "Nowe longer."

And, for a moment- as she started dragging him up the scaffolding up the nutcracker- she felt pride, an overwhelming sense of justice and the kind of power that must have come with leadership. Then Craker had to open his stupid, fat rich mouth.

"You're worse than a monster!" He screeched, "Uncivilized, uncouth, a beast! A demon!"

Time slowed down. For a very, very long minute, she contemplated dropping him just to watch him bald, pink head crack on the warehouse floor. A wound she thought she'd patched up, a wound she thought had scarred over… now ripped open in such an unceremoniously grotesque fashion. She should've been used to it by now, and yet it made her blood boil so much she thought she may actually be set ablaze. She wound her fist up in his collar, choking him fiercely and staring into eyes unblinkingly.

"I am. And yet somehow I'm not even the worst person int room."

She nabbed his phone before throwing him onto the platform, the blood of the previous men seeping into his robe and smearing onto his face. She started the hydraulics for one last time, scaling down the scaffolding like an animal. She wrote her note, she placed her signature mask, she called the police, setting the phone beside the radio before leaving with Mickey, grabbing her real mask on the way out. Newton's screams finally echoed throughout the warehouse as they got into Mick's truck, and he held Lily's hand tight the whole way home.

***

He had to admit that the contraption would've been impressive, were it not for how brutally it was used. A massive nutcracker- who'd even heard of such a thing until now?

Chelmey had initially thought it to be one body crushed in the hydraulic press, before Barton and DC Layton pointed out just how much blood there was, the amount of sinew and bone shards was just too much for one human, and- God, the stench! They found the bodies of five other men in the nutcracker's hollow wooden stomach, leaving six almost unidentifiable bodies, six John Does until either results from the lab came along or any of their spouses came crying about their husbands missing.

Of course, Detective Constable Layton was quick to jump into reading the York-Lanc Fox's note.

-What a pity… You'd think a man nicknamed "Oilskin" would spill oil if you squeezed him hard enough! It certainly would've made sense with how much he hoarded it like some gross dragon in a fairytale. Does that make me the valiant knight?-

"What an oddity!" Alfendi had laughed, "Inspector, you see?"

"See what, Layton!? You'd do well to stop playing these games with your superiors!"

"The writing, Inspector!" He grinned, making Chelmey shudder. The DC was certainly a different breed from his father…

"The markings are dark," Al continued rambling, pointing at spots in the note "There are places in the letters where the ink has spilled and pooled, like it was pressed too hard into the paper. Our little Fox was angry, Inspector. Something soured their pretty little mood. And the way the letters grow fainter at the end… They ask if they're a knight in a fairytale, but it's not sass! How fascinating… It's reassurance."

The idea baffled him, personally. Their killer was usually confident! Bold, brash, a tease- almost impish, if he had to choose a word to describe them. They knew religion was a touchy subject to them. The murder of Autumn E. Quinnix had made that abundantly clear. But that was a different anger- that was rage of caused by, according to the Fox themselves, a pain from within. This wasn't rage- he pieced that much together. No… this was…

"Fear."

It was like Alfendi had read his very thoughts. It was fear. A protective anger. The fear of being something. But what? And then, a brief thought came to him, one he swiftly put on the back burner.

Could they use that fear to their own advantage?

Chapter 11: Nice: Santa's Workshop

"Lucille? My darling?"

Lucille gave a hum of acknowledgment.

"Are you… perhaps taking this place a little too seriously?"

She had already accidentally tuned him out, intensely focused on her work, "Aye, me too…"

She had seen this place on commute to a live crime scene, and had written it down for everyone else to remember. It was a little wooden workshop, built for the purpose of allowing people to make their own toys, figures, or trinkets, and- a creative person at heart- she had begged Alfendi to come with her either after work hours or on an off day. To her delight, he had accepted, and they came to the place on his bike the next day they were free.

The place was full of wooden pieces, all meant to be glued, screwed, or nailed into each other, workbenches in sections meant for adults and children, tools adorning the shelves, tubes of paint and paintbrushes put in little holders to the side. It was quite cute, actually; Lucille must have had quite the sparkle to her eyes, seeing as Fendi chuckled. They paid at the front desk and took to grabbing various wooden pieces to work on.

Alfendi sat down first, with wheels and the base of a car in hand, plus a few blocks he planned on carving out to add to the car (he had a rather specific vehicle in mind). He was well into carving out the top of his car when Lucille finally joined him with a clattering of wood- wheels and axels, three cutesy wooden ducks and some needle and thread, some orange cloth and a wooden hemisphere? She started pulling out a variety of carving tools, brushes, screws, glue and paint too…

Maybe that should've been his first sign that something was up.

While he was contentedly toiling away at his little car, she had decapitated two of the ducks already (to Al's rather morbid and delighted curiosity), sawing them in half and beginning to... Hollow out the halves… What the hell was the goal here?? He had to pause his own work simply to watch her paint the whole duck in her image before abruptly switching to the cloth and thread; she fiercely went to measuring, cutting out pattern pieces, sewing a little cap- her cap! She was sewing her little cap by hand at an alarming rate!

That was when he had tried to ask her if, perhaps, just maybe, she was taking this simple workshop a little too seriously. By god, she was practically crafting like she was one of Santa's elves herself!

He continued working on his car, carving out the little things just as he remembered them- a chipped headlight there, an uneven door. Now he needed the base colors, and then he could paint on the tinier things he remembered. In the meantime, beside him. Lucille had roped Lucy and Lily into being as intensely focused as she was; Lily was in charge of carving and painting the hemisphere into a tell-tale mask, measuring it to the cartoonish duck's proportions- after all, she knew it's tiniest details, it's chips and stains of time best!

"You sure it's a good idea to make that in public, my little vixen?" Al joked, "Wouldn't want anyone piecing the puzzle together, now would you?"

"Ohhhh please, Needles," she said distractedly, "Practically everyone in London's seen it by now, I could just be a fan!" He shrugged in response, returning to his painting while Lu assembled the one duck into a rolling toy, the halves of the other ducks laying rather neglected on the workbench. In fact, he was almost finishing up the details of the paint job when Lucille finally started to paint the faces, each one a reflection of the three of them. He had been waiting for the paint to dry when she finally started putting the remaining pieces together; he watched the way she held her breath, how a shoe had slipped off unnoticed, her toes curling from the sheer concentration. At last, she glued the cap down onto the Lucy half, setting the finished product down to dry. She finally heaved a sigh and looked in his direction.

"S-Sken," she stammered, "It's. It's Ducktective Constable. And the York-Lanc Duck."

There was a beat of silence before he held his face in his hands, snorting and giggling at the downright ridiculous wordplay. She was adorable, honestly.

"Glad to see you're back with us my darling Lucille," he said between chuckles, "You were so focused, you hardly heard me. I think my car is done drying just as you set yours down!"

"Ah… s-ssssorry. I like makin'… What- What did. You make?"

"My father's old car," he showed off the little red vehicle, painted to look rusty and busted up, "The 'Laytonmobile', he called it. I see you made a rather… complex duck?"

"I-I made all three of uz- us! And- And ducks are cute, so I wanted to make a little- a little… rollie duck."

They left with their creations, carrying them back home and Alfendi dropping her off at her apartment, with both of them talking about how much fun they had with each other before tucking in for the night. The next day, to the curiosity of the rest of Scotland Yard, a three faced duck and a little wooden car appeared on Alfendi's desk, sitting peacefully, as if they had always belonged there.

Chapter 12: Naughty: Polar Express

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Unknown, possibly Mar. 11, 1987
Victim: Sinclaire Geister
Age: 53
Cause of Death: Traumatic Brain Injury
---
16 years old

Lily had been very suspicious of the Agonni family when Keelan introduced her to them. They were not righteous killers killing bad people who had done bad things to the little people- they were cold killers running a tight ship staffed with frauds, larcenists, assaulters and many worse. These were the kinds of people she wanted to kill, dammit, not work with! In fact, even now, she would have never worked with them were it not for the fact that they shared a target (even if for two very different reasons). She had heard Keelan on the phone with them first, of course. Even heard bits from their head honcho on the other end.

"…know… little Fox… side."

"Do you now? And what does that have to do with a call like this?"

"…e have… off… request, ev… their assis…"

"Oh, come now, come now, Severino, you may be getting old like me, but you're smart! You watch and listen to and read the news all the time! You must know that they don't do dirty work like yours.'

"Of cour… lan… ich is why… sk."

"…I'll see if I can convince them. Five o' clock at the warehouse if they agree? Peeeerfect. Perhaps we'll see you then!" He hung up before dropping his saccharine grin, groaning a little and pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned, startling a little from seeing her, "Jesus fuck, my girl, how long've you been standing there?"

"Long enough. Where are uz goin'?"

"Depends. How would you like to meet some… business partners?"

***

She was honestly rather offended when Severino had burst into hearty, mocking laughter when she walked in with Keelan, barefoot in her standard red dress (but wearing a thicker coat under Keelan's insistence), mask on her face.

"A child!" He laughed with a cigar hanging between his lips, the laughter summoning chuckles out of the other gang members, "A scrawny child is the terror of London! What a delight! Now it makes me wonder if you can truly help out our little family, tiny kit."

"Oh, shut yer fat gob," she snarled, "I'm already pissed the fuckin' mafia is askin' me for help- folk like yer "Blood Boyle" are folk I'd kill in a heartbeat. If it were up to me, in all honesty, I'd burn this whole place to the ground!"

"I wouldn't judge her so harshly, Agonni," Keelan piped up, "This girl's been through more than your men could hope to ever inflict on others. What say you my girl? You wouldn't mind showing them what I mean, right? Since you were so eager to come here coatless in the dead of winter…"

She felt a small smile across her face. She could show off a few of the trophies of her survival; Keelan had helped her feel much more confident in them as of late, after all. Simply shucking her coat from her shoulders was enough to dim the smug smiles of many of Severino's goons, some shifting into concern and others into impressed admiration.

Severino's laughter turned low and menacing, "Haha… You are a fighter! A spicy thing! No fit for my little family, make no mistake- there is too much heart to you, but there is life to you! Worry not, worry not, I have someone who we will both benefit from getting rid of~"

And so, she was given a target.

Sinclaire Geister.

To the Agonni family, he was a traitor and a double crosser who'd stiffed Severino on payments, sending them to rival gangs instead.

To Lily's own research, he had started off quite well, but, as it does with all people, the power and the money seemed to corrupt him until he was now far worse. One of five CEOs to the pharmaceutical monopoly GEISTER Inc. that specialized in mainly snake oil treatments or bullshit packed medicines made from stolen and extorted goods; he was involved in underground, underhanded deals with the mafia and even some terrorist groups around the globe, and, to her horror, unethical human testing for their products. It made her sick that she was working with one of the many gangs that had allowed this to continue in order to be paid in blood and booze and drug money, but she needed to keep herself restrained in order to keep a target off of her back.

The enemy of an enemy, or some bullshit saying Keelan had told her to try and calm her down.

They had to move much faster than she would've liked; Geister, rightfully fearing for his life, was already trying to flee the country- first by train in a private railcar before he would more than likely take a private jet far, far away, never to be caught again. So they all only had one chance to get him. Lily only had one chance to get him.

It's how they ended up here. Illia, Rowan and Severino's right hand man Barbarossa, all on the night train, with her, her axe, and few spare items in a duffel bag. The train car was quiet, as far as she could tell from the inside- a cough or two somewhere further down. They just needed to get as far up the train as possible- preferably in the next empty car that was still close enough to Geister to minimize risk, but not so close that it seemed suspicious. Illia and Rowan were feigning a couple traveling, Lily tucked away in a duffel bag that Rowan had brought, and Barbarossa had gotten on at a different stop, sitting not far from the bag. They rode for a few stops before making their move at the next long stretch, Rowan tapping Illia on the leg.

"I'm fuckin' starved," he said loud enough to be heard by the few people in their carriage, "I'm off to the dining car for a bite. You need anything, love?"

Illia just shook her head, "Do not take long."

Rowan left. He was going to get food, of course, it was part of creating alibis. He just wasn't going to head back, rather quickly scouting for the closest empty part of the train to sit in the preceding part as a signal to Barbarossa. Minutes passed before Illia started fidgeting and shaking her legs. She turned to what seemed a stranger in the eyes of outsiders.

"I am sorry, sir," she muttered, "Would you… watch husband's bag? I must use bathroom…"

Barbarossa nodded solemnly before Illia also took her leave. Again, she would not be back for some time, but it was enough time for Sassina to pick up the bag and begin heading to where he was needed, giving the excuse of "also heading to the dining car, should that lady need me" to the other passengers. And outside of their particular railcar, everyone else was none the wiser. Meanwhile, Lily stayed deathly still in the bag, quiet as a mouse and unflinching to anything that bumped her on her way up.

It took a minute or two for her to be settled down onto the ground, the bag being unzipped and the sound of window latches being tampered with; she pulled herself out of the duffel bag, axe in hand, hiding out of sight from the doors. Barbarossa pulled the window up, the frigid snow whipping into the train, and turned to her with a strange look in his eye. Was it concern? Curiosity? Amusement?

"Be… careful."

Oh, so he had some semblance of a heart.

"I'll be fine," she playfully scoffed, "I've scaled buildin's afoor, this is nowt." She swiftly crawled out of the window into the freezing winter winds, gripping her way up to the top of the train. The view from up top was vast and endless, blurred from the blizzarding snow. She made her way up, keeping her footsteps light against the roof as she leapt from car to car, quickly approaching Geister. She had to be fast, she had to be quick- he had to be dead and disposed of before they reached the next city.

She finally reached his section, far and isolated from people like a terrified fool. She slipped into the space in between the wagons, landing on the link connecting them, positive that her mask was menacing in the car window. There he was, leg bouncing, head in hands, thick glasses almost falling off his face- a rather pitiful display, honestly. She tried to quietly open the door, but his fear made him sharper, and his head snapped up. He fled, Lily in hot pursuit of him down the rest of the wagon until they reached end of it. Sinclaire climbed up onto the roof, Lily nicking him in the foot with her axe- damn, he was fast! Much faster than she had expected such an older man to be, considering her own speed. About halfway through her chase, he suddenly whipped around, "Wait! Wait wait, hold on just a minute!" He cried, ducking under her swings. God, he was pissing her off! "Now, now, hold on! You seem… you seem a reasonable sort, at least the sort who can be- be reasoned with!"

His face was manic, and she couldn't even tell if it was fear or a different breed of insanity. But, hell, she'd amuse him just this once and let him dig his grave deeper, on top of the train.

"I- I know your kind, you know! The kind to hate GEISTER Inc. based solely on- solely on our employee satisfaction!" His cadence annoyed her so much- all corporate talk and grandeur, like she was one of their potential customers, "Besides, the Agonni family sent you, yes yes? They- they always have been rather bitter! Strung others along to do their dirty work- well, I swear- I swear to you! We at GEISTER Inc. never treat our employees in a way they don't see themselves as!"

She had to hold back a laugh- that was what she thought warranted this? It certainly didn't help, but oh how fucking hilarious.

"Really!" She said with genuinely amused astonishment, "Ya think they wantsta be treated like trash? Yer little human subjects ya test yer medicines on? The ones I know ya berate and bully in yer little labs?"

"Of course! They view themselves as such!"

Her amusement dropped like a sack of bricks. Ah. Not only was he dead serious, but he had said it like nothing was wrong with that line of thought. A sudden rage was flash boiling inside of her, "Really?" she snarled, almost unheard between the roar of rushing snow and her own mask, "Dust they now? I wonder why."

His manic expression twitched with confusion.

"Ya don't even see what's wrong wi' the fuckin' feedback loop yo'n made!" She could feel her face twisting against her mask, "Ya insult 'em for hours and hours while pokin' and proddin' 'em, then say it connod be helped when they insult theirsels! Nowe shite they see each other as worthless!"

He flinched a little, but that damn corporate PR grin never faltered, and the mania behind his gaze never left, "Ah- Um- Well, I would argue that's factually incorrect- I'm not telling them that myself, after all! Like I said before, here at GEISTER we always strive to treat people the way they want to be treated- Who am I to deny them being treated like that if that's what they think they deserve?"

Something snapped in her. With the last rational thought she had, she recounted that this was an empty railcar, and slammed her axe into the roof. "Forget the axe," she rumbled, "Ya don't deserve that joy…"

She lowered her mask, swinging it around so that it rested at her nape, and she saw Sinclaire's horrible, stupid smile faltered. She had to briefly wonder in a glimpse of clarity, what he saw looking at her.

She launched herself at him, screaming like some horrid banshee, the sound unheard across the train, drowned out by the wind and rattle of the train. Having let his guard down, Geister fumbled backwards as Lily landed on him, scaling him like a rat and- in a fit of animalistic lividity, she sunk her teeth into his throat, clamping her jaws tighter and tighter, until her teeth finally sank deep into the cooling flesh, his blood was warm in her mouth, spilling everywhere and staining her skin, her clothes, his clothes. His grip on her, his desperate struggle to push her away, rapidly softened. His eyes glazed over, he tripped over himself as he started stumbling back; Lily kept a firm grip on the skin, the sinew, and the muscle in her mouth, eventually spitting it into her hands, gripping it like it was precious. She hovered over the choking man, slowly clearing her thoughts just enough to put her mask back on before growling close to his ear, making sure he'd hear her.

"My father treated uz like demons until uz believed it. For some of the babbies down there, he never had to say a word. My teacher taught me summat like this- what were it now..? Summat from Descartes? 'I think, therefore I am'? Oh, whatever. I s'pose it doesno' matter anymore for you. Does it?"

She could no longer tell the look in his dying eyes, but it was such a faint and fleeting emotion, that she couldn't find it in her heart to care. Retrieving her axe, she took his body and made her way back to in between the wagons, hopping off and landing close to the train to make sure none of the other passengers saw her through their windows. Illia, Rowan, and Barbarossa had their instructions. The lattermost would hand the duffel bag back to its "rightful owner" in their original car, then get off at the next stop and head back to the Agonni hideout. The former two, however…

The caboose of the train rattled up a little while after she'd hopped off, Geister's corpse on the ground and staining the snow red. it were Illia and Rowan, who jumped over the caboose railing into the fresh powder before joining her, Illia swiftly handing her the winter clothes before pausing.

"Little wasp!" It was the most panicked Lily had ever heard the doctor, "You are bleeding underneath your mask!"

"I'm fine, Ills." She felt herself snap, "I'm fine. S'not mine." She took her mask off. She must have looked an awful mess, but the warmth of however much blood on her face was fading fast, replaced with a drying crust. "Ler's just… Ler's just get him further out. Afoor the next train. And I need the signature mask, Illia. 'N paper…"

***

The body was much further out than Chelmey had expected, and had already started bloating because the poor man was buried under fresh snow, hiding everything perfectly- from his body to that tell-tale mask, to the note left by their foxy killer:

-There are some truly awful people in the world, Yard. People with money, people without. People born with golden spoons in their mouths who don't understand the weight of words and use it as some rotten excuse to keep others in line under their shiny leather boots and shimmering heels. And while some were once out of your hand, Commissioner Chelmey, you have more power than you once did. So where are you now?-

It unnerved him to be called out directly in this note- they had never done that before… furthermore, he had heard rumors of GEISTER Inc.'s terrible misdeeds and abysmal treatment of their lower ranked employees, but the company's history went so far back that he couldn't tell what was truth and what was the words of disgruntled workers whenever he tried to dig anything up. But it seemed that the York-Lanc Fox had, even got a confession by the sound of it. God, this was worse than Hershel- at least his rivalry with that man was one of gentlemanly behavior and civilized discussions, and Hershel never killed anyone in any of his puzzles and cases to prove a point!

Alfendi pointed out, yet again, how there were dark spots in the note, and the fleeting thought came up again- the idea of using whatever it was the Fox seemed afraid of against them. He forced it back again. If he was really and truly going to do that, he would have to be ready to possibly put his badge down for the last time. He would have to be patient. He would have to be prepared to risk his life.

A fox never did like being cornered, after all.

Notes:

If you know the character this victim is based off of then You, my friend, have Baller Knowledge :)

Chapter 13: Nice: Candles

The gentle snow outside was almost cinematic for her as she walked to the cemetery. Candles and matches in her bag, coat and scarf bundling her up nice and cozy. It was quiet, the snow muffling Lily's footsteps and absorbing the usual London sounds- even the metallic screeching sound of the cemetery gates seemed subdued by the blankets of white on the ground. It crunched beneath her feet along with a few stray leaves as she slowly looked for a particular headstone amongst the frosted and frozen graves. She finally found it, pausing in front of it with a soft smile.

Here lies Keelan Makepeace.

"Hey Dad."

Lily took a seat in front of the headstone, ignoring the frigid cold as she pulled out her candles and matches, lighting a few before placing them by his grave. "It's been a while. Sorry I haven't visited. Been busy… well- been quiet. But I think ya'd be proud. Not just of me- Longstockin's been doin' stellar too." She warmed her fingertips by the candlelight.

"He's dead now." She choked, "My old man. The one I told ya about. Finally killed him… I'm free. I know ya wanted to kill him yersel' when ya learned about him. Sorry ya never got to do that." She flashed a freezing finger towards the gravestone too, showcasing off her ring well, "I got married! Not sure how ya'd feel about it bein' Alfendi, but… I like to imagine ya'd still walk me down the aisle. I have to admit, it felt weird havin' my mam take me… oh- and I have my brothers and sisters back! All of my siblings and my mam- fuck, I wish they could've met ya, Dad… Ya would've loved Loosha…"

The tears were coming out harder than she thought they would. She sniffled, a candle was blown out by the wind, and she simply relit it.

"Diane- Diane and I are talkin' again. Poor lass got shot by Lawson, but I saved her enough in time. Hoo's alright now, Keels. Servin' jail time, but alive! And uz're talkin' again, like nay time's passed, talkin' like sisters again. It's great, and I just- I wish ya were still here to see it all! Even if it were behind bars, I just wish I still had you around. Mam's talkin' to an old friend, and he's great and all, but I just… I wish ya were still here. Just to talk to me again."

Her tears streaked down her cheeks, freezing on the way down.

"I miss ya so much, Dad… Did ya hear me that last night? When I finally called ya dad? Dust… dust ya hear me now?"

She was not the religious sort. She did not necessarily believe in gods and gods having afterlives dedicated to them and them alone. But, as the candles burned gently, the flames contrasting against the cold greys and blues of the snow, she had to wonder what death would be like. Perhaps it was like she envisioned her mind: a house in a vast void of sky and water. Or maybe even multiple houses in one big neighborhood- a never-ending house where everyone she knew and loved had their own little home, and she could see them whenever, where no one was lost or alone and where she could see the people she'd lost as if no time had passed. The candles blew out again, and she lit them all again on her last match.

"I… may also be pregnant. Congrats, Keels, ya old man. Ya'd be a grandad if ya were still around." A dry laugh left her throat as she swallowed more tears, "…y'know, sometimes I have to wonder if ya knew summat were up with uz. Illia were a doctor, so hoo might've known. Lucy says ya treated her lovely, Lucille… Lucille never came out long enough. I think hoo liked to peek in on what were goin' on, but ya never really met her. I wish ya could've." She would've let Lucille front then and there, but those two always insisted Lily get her time with Keelan.

He was her dad, after all. She softly kissed his headstone, "Sorry I don't have flowers wi' me today. Too cold if ya ask me. I love ya… so so much, Dad. I'll try to visit next week. Or the week after that."

And- for a brief moment- as she stood up, right before the candle blew out for the last time, she could've sworn she felt someone hug her tightly; she even swore she heard a voice on the wind…

I love you too.

Notes:

Me starting this project: Yeah, it's gonna be fluff, then murder, and I'm gonna alternate!
*Writes 'Family'*
*Writes this*

Chapter 14: Naughty: Reindeer

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Dec. 25, 1987
Victim: Godiva Deiry
Age: 87
Cause of Death: Crush Fatality
---
16 years old

He held his head in his hands, the poor thing aching and pounding from the stress.

Four more masks since the death of Sinclaire Geister. And they only grew more and more grandiose as time went by. The murder of 11 people, an heiress, a millionaire author, and a former prime minister. At least, thanks to Alfendi, they had discovered some relatively recent bits of information. One: their York-Lanc Fox was a York-Lanc Vixen, and two: it was a child. Well- a teenager, young at that, but still a child in the eyes of the law.

And he couldn't even decide how he felt about that.

On one hand, he was upset- irrationally so! Someone too young to ever apply for the Yard was outsmarting some of his sharpest minds, slipping through the cracks of the corrupted wealthy and finding their secrets like a dog finds a bone. And on the other, there was… a fatherly instinct, further brought up by Inspector Layton in a moment of vulnerability.

"It's fascinating, Commissioner, isn't it?" He had asked, "To wonder what could've led to this."

"Explain yourself, Layton." He didn't even have the energy to bark the order.

"Children are a biproduct of their environment. They take what they hear, what they see, what they experience, and those things slowly solidify into the bricks that form their foundation. Sometimes the bricks are far different than what you think they'd be, and other times it's exactly what you would expect. You have to wonder what our little Fox went through to get to this point, don't you agree?"

He hated to admit it, but… Al was right. What got them here? How much had this kid been through to decide that the solution was grotesque, brutal murder? Had they been through nothing at all and, instead, raised with a distrust that grew so extreme it simply warped?

God, he was getting old. He couldn't keep doing this. He was approaching his 70s, his bones were creaking too much to go galivanting off chasing foxes. Would this have to be his last huzzah against her before passing on the torch to Barton?

"Layton…" He hummed, "Remind me: this Friday's Christmas parade is sponsored by Godiva Deiry this year, yes?"

Alfendi raised a brow slightly, "Yes, Commissioner, it is, and she will also be a part of the parade- along with a trail of reindeer, if I may add. They'll make their appearance at the very end if I remember correctly. Do you know something we don't? Shall I gather Lawson and Pertinax?"

"Hold off on that. First, get me as much information on Mrs. Deiry as you can. She's rich, and we've gotten rumors about her in the past- if the Fox can deep dig, then we should start mimicking her. A parade is the kind of opportunity she'd take to kill someone if they fit her victim criteria, don't you agree, Inspector?"

His eyes lit up a little, the puzzle pieces clicking in his head. "Right away, then." He only said with a smile, taking his leave and leaving Chelmey with his thoughts. He dragged his hands over his face with equal parts fear and indecisiveness. Thoughts on backburners bubbling and boiling, rolling up to the front in angry fashion. Oh well…

If he was going to make this his final stand, he figured he might as well go out with a bang.

***

Reindeer were not a creature she'd ever heard of until this year, and this year alone, when Lily heard of the Christmas parade happening this year, and how reindeer had been brought over and rented from a far out place in eastern Europe. Big creatures, like deer or moose, with big antlers to boot. It fascinated her in a lot of ways, but mainly the build of such animals. Because she'd seen horses.

Could she ride a reindeer like a horse? Would that hurt the animal if she did? How did she go about approaching a reindeer if that was what she wanted to do? Did she want to? Was it necessary? Oh never mind. She could figure that bit out later; for now, she had a target on the mind: Godiva Deiry.

She didn't understand how on earth anyone could be so attached to an old and disgruntled woman like her, who was snappy and belligerent to those around her like a wrinkled toddler- Godiva was old money, a politician who had only rather recently officially held a position of power; Lily had done her homework and found that the old woman's husband had died not long before she came into her own power, seemingly incurably ill before finally succumbing to his sickness. Lily, of course, suspected foul play- Perfect had told her many stories of her own deceased husband, whom she had slowly poisoned to save herself from him.

Perhaps old Grandma Diva was no different.

But if she had suffered anything from the hands of men, she certainly became no better under power. Hidden bank statements, lawsuits against the poor for petty yet legal reasons, shady and seedy practices to line her pockets, unlicensed child labor in a desperate grab for "teaching the youth proper values", as she'd read in letters that Rita Labowtit intercepted for her (as it was difficult work trying to find secrets when your target never touched a computer!)

Lily was curious as to how she'd get closer to Godiva though. She wasn't in the middle of the parade, but at the very end, out in the open but surrounded by prying eyes; she'd be easy to spot approaching in any sense of the word. Bringing up the dilemma to Diane, the other girl perked up.

"You could snag one of the reindeer and ride one like you were riding it into battle! Chop her head off or run her over like that one grandma song! You'd have to find a way to knock her onto the ground if you wanted to do that though."

Lily had somewhat stopped listening, focused instead on the absolute delight coursing through her at such an idea.

Holy shit, Grandma could get run over by a reindeer.

She was quick in finding the weak spots in the sleigh Godiva would be riding, sneaking into the storage it was kept in and swiftly picking at the least noticeable yet crucial spots- knowledge given to her courtesy of Mickey, of course. No cameras in storage, no one was ever the wiser to her popping in.

Then it had been Rowan who had snuck the Makepeaces a reindeer from the rented herd. "For the girls to see a tamed one," he had said while fiercely holding its reins, but his wink made it very clear that he'd been alerted to her idea. It was, admittedly, rather fun. She sunk into its fur and it kept her legs warm against the biting air as she grew used to the movements and learned the commands the beast knew. It took a few days of rearing and stolen apples, but she could eventually dare to say she'd bonded with the sweet boy.

She had even named him Lucien.

And come the early morning of the Christmas parade, Lily had taken him back from the stables, mounted him, and hidden in an alleyway. Her arms and legs were disguised, her axe was sheathed, and she wore a blood red cloak over her dress. She played with Lucien's fur, burying her hands into the dense, warm fur and cuddling into his neck.

And as the sun peeked over the horizon, she felt at peace.

***

He had officers at every corner, given the order to only shoot to wound. He wasn't trying to kill the York-Lanc Fox, no- he'd be a hypocrite of the highest order if he did! Besides, he could never bring himself to kill a child. Besides, they had found evidence of crimes committed by Godiva, and so he was going to arrest her after the parade. He would arrest the old woman, and justice would be properly served; he would also try and keep his temper and his pride in check for today, although the thoughts of using the York-Lanc Fox's fear against her invaded his mind constantly. In fact, to be quite honest, he had been thinking about doing so since the death of Sinclaire Geister, but the thoughts had hammered at his skull since the death of Cornelia Maice. And today was no different.

The parade was lively and smooth, the floats a spectacle of the rich's accomplishments, adorned in lights and glitter and bobbles galore as the police kept their heads on a swivel. There was song and dance and a giant balloon or two throughout the event- all without a peep or glimpse of their Fox. Then, as it neared the end, there were the screams of joy and whimsy as Mrs. Godiva Deiry came rolling out on her personal red carpet: a red velvet sleigh, trimmed with gold and jingling bells; she was dressed in a flowing, expensive looking dress that matched her ride, the red satin lined with fluffy white fur and pairing nicely with the fancy jewelry she wore. Her wrinkled face looked almost smug as she waved to her captive audience in long, matching gloves, gold earrings and diamonds glittering in the Christmas morning sun. Behind the sleigh, a mini parade of reindeer were trailing, decorated and dressed in their own green and red velvet reins and bells- although one seemed to be missing; he would have to send a search team for the poor animal and hope they found it alive, preferably not in the English countryside.

And yet, despite their diligence, their little killer hadn't shown up. Had he been wrong? God, was she out elsewhere killing someone-

His ears perked up suddenly when the screams of joy turned to screams of fear and surprise. He and his men whipped around, and his heart stopped.

There she was. Mounted on their missing reindeer, like a blood red Grim Reaper. The reindeer seemed to be perfectly content as an accessory, snorting and huffing as it shook its head out as it stamped its hooves.

"Men!" The shout ripped from him, "You have your orders! Aim to wound, but we want this Fox alive!"

His men aimed at the pavement, shooting in hopes to startle the animal, and- for a moment- it worked, until the Fox took its fur in her hands and professionally handled it, rearing and steering onwards into the gunfire. He pulled his own gun out, aiming to graze the Fox in the shoulder, but she leapt over him with the reindeer in a leap of faith, knocking him backwards and landing closer to Godiva's sleigh. The gunfire, too, had startled the rest of the parading animals, and they began to stampede and run. The ruckus, to his horror, began rattling the ride until it inevitably collapse, leaving the old woman bruised and scratched on the cobblestone. He lost sight of her in the stampede, but… Considering that their killer began riding over to where he last saw her, he could only imagine what was happening as he heard the old woman's caterwauling and howling. When most of the reindeer cleared, he saw the bloody and broken body of Godiva Deiry, and their York-Lanc Fox riding away.

Their cars would not be able to reach her in the midst of the crowded street. He was trying to stay calm, he really was. Was this not a win for justice in the end? Was it? Was it?

"Demon!" He roared, a voice he had forgotten he'd ever had ripping from him like a beast himself, "Coward!"

He hadn't expected her to harshly pull to a stop. He hadn't expected her to start turning around, and he knew he should stop while he could, but the raging floodgates had opened, and he couldn't even hope to slam it back shut.

"You call these people criminals and then give them such a quick way out of justice!" He started screaming as he pulled his old bones up, "A swift and easy death?! They have no time to reflect on the crimes you say they have! Torturing them for fun and pleasure- you really are a demon!"

To him, the fox mask was emotionless and cold. He didn't see the raging fury behind it, the gritted teeth and eyes that felt like they were pulsing. He only saw her suddenly grab her axe with a swiftness he'd only seen in soldiers, starting her steed before letting out the shrillest, most primal screech he'd heard in his life. She came barreling for him; for a morbid moment, he thought he would be the one to break her killing streak, and, not wanting to go down without a fight, he aimed his gun one last time.

He pulled the trigger just as the Fox- to his great surprise- flipped her axe around and slammed him in the temple with the handle. His bullet, on the other hand, shot her square in the shoulder, the proximity of the shot finally scaring the reindeer into running off, their killer still clinging to its back. As she rode away, he swore he saw her rip a piece of her cloak off and begin to address the wound. Even in her rage, she hadn't killed him. Perhaps that, in itself, deserved respect.

But he could only think about how instinctual her movements looked as he faded into unconsciousness.

As he was taken to the hospital to assess his own injuries, it was reported that the missing reindeer had been returned- freshly cleaned and everything. Meanwhile, now far, far off, a little angry fox was cleaning her wounds out of memory, tears beginning to mix with her blood.

Chapter 15: Nice: Cookies

"I have the wheel, ya fuck, back off! Stay in yer room!"

Alfendi heard the voice before he went in, pausing before using the spare key he'd been given to enter her apartment. "Lily?"

"Fightin' for my life over my own body, Needle Legs!" She barked from the kitchen, "Stupid Lucy wants the wheel- I am the baker here, Baker! ...Fuck nowe! Yer stress bakin' doesno' mean shite when ya still make a mess out of the kitchen!"

He popped his head in couldn't hold back Al from swearing, "Hell, Makepeace, what sort of bomb did you light in here?!"

"Don't blame me, Lucille were the one to set this off! Noddy thought hoo could start bakin' bout a recipe like hoo's been the one around for twelve years- Don't argue wi' me, Bardey!"

Lily was positively drowning in ingredients. Flour, sugar, there were a few cracked eggs on the countertops and floor, a bag of white chocolate chips that had spilled from being ripped too wide and so, so much more.

"I also blame the both of 'em for decidin' that, instead of makin' a few batches, wantin' to make a whole office's worth of biscuits, plus extra! So now- as resident chef of the place, mind ya, 'cause Longstockin' and Bardey connod be trusted ten feet from a pot and pan- I have put misel in charge of bakin'!"

"Fascinating…" Fendi croaked, "And I'm assuming that control is only… a recent development?"

"Nay, of course not, Fends, whateeeeever made ya think?" He was suddenly acutely aware of the streaks of flour she'd clearly tried to wash away off of her face. Ah.

"Would… you like help?" he asked, before Al shoved him out of fronting, "Ignore him, you are getting help, Flame Lily. I'm not taking no for an answer when it looks like you blew up a crack house."

Lily bit her lip to hold back her chuckles, "Fine, fine. I trust you two around the kitchen more nor I do the others, anyway."

For the most part, he was on rolling and placing on tray duty, diligently working with the doughs he was given, whether he needed to make almond cigars, lumps of soft batter drowned in powdered sugar, dough balls with white chocolate chips and cranberries.

It was a lot. He was also pretty sure some of these recipes weren't from the UK. His sister would've loved to have some; he'd have to ask if he could take some for her.

"It's funny how this isn't the first time I've caught you in a biscuit mess in your kitchen," he chortled as he remembered the last time. Oddly enough, it had also been around Christmas, and Lucy had been the one to call him.

"Aye, that were afoor ya found out about me and Lucille- hell, even Diane. Hell, I were still bein' pretty quiet back then. Otherwise I would've stopped a certain Baker from gettin' int kitchen like a raccoon chef- I don't wantsta hear yer excuses!!" She had just passed a bowl of dough to Alfendi, starting to mix the very last one, "But… it is kind of funny. So much time has passed sin' then, and uz're still just bakin' in December. Maybe uz could make it a tradition."

Maybe they could, Alfendi thought, content to be there, shaping the treats and popping them into the oven when it was time.

Maybe they could, Lily had thought, hoping that the people she desperately missed would be able to join in tradition in due time.

Notes:

Me as I'm writing: Haven't we done a fic like this before?
The little writing goblin in my brain: Yes, and wE'LL DO IT AGAAAIN!

Chapter 16: Naughty: Office Party

Summary:

Scotland Yard Report
Date of Death: Dec. 30, 1987
Victim(s): Anne Geister, Deuce Geister, Troy Geister, Katherine Geister, Sirius Geister, Wren Geister, Rio Dethery, Alister Eipefit XIV, Lucilia Merdir, Kyle Smith
Age: Ranging 33-98
Cause(s) of Death: Unsure; bodies found charred at the scene
---
16 years old

She didn't have time to linger on it.

She didn't have time to listen to the words echoing in her skull.

She was a demon, wasn't she? Hadn't she accepted that? So why? Why why why whywhywhy why did being called one hurt so deeply?

Lily needed to pull herself together, she needed to focus on the people she had planned to kill soon, she had even prepared her plans before going for Godiva! And then that stupid bobby had gone and scrambled her mind by flinging her least favorite word in the whole wide world around all casually. She had wanted to kill him then and there, but she'd done her homework- he was genuinely a good man. She would not have been able to forgive herself if she had… But she couldn't linger on that. Fuck, she couldn't she just couldn't.

She needed to focus on taking down the rest of GEISTER Inc.

If not for her current rage and internal crises, she'd honestly be impressed; Sinclaire had managed to piss her off so greatly that she had decided to aim at the remaining heads of the company. It was run by the Geister family, which was already a red flag in itself, especially since Sinclaire was such a piece of work. A little extra digging had shown Lily that all the apples in the tree had shot straight down, starting at the company's founder: a very old Wren Geister, then her son Sirius was CEO of the main GEISTER Inc., and he had fathered the five current CEOs of GEISTER Pharmaceuticals: Anne, Deuce, Troy, Katherine and Sinclaire. Then there were the ones in high seats, cozying up to the ones in power.

There was Rio Dethery, one of the doctors responsible for their medicines, had a history of putting a variety of unwanted things in their baby formulas and medications- from honey to more addictive drugs in small but effective amounts; there was Alister Eipefit XIV, whose noble and religious family had been shareholders of the company for some time, and Alister had only been a far worse instigator of a problem, inserting religious values into medicine and paying more to GEISTER for the withholding of needed medicine if it didn't align with the religious values. Then, there was Lucilia Merdir and Kyle Smith, two sides of the same awful, awful coin, responsible for managing the stocks and packaging the products, making sure it was all labeled correctly. Of course, neither of them did, and the corners cut made the square look like a damn circle. Never listed the negatives, always and only the positives, marketed as some miracle drug that was safe to take. Then, the lowest on the corporate ladder, yet just as bad: Judd Pouju III

And, of course, all the testing on staff they perceived to be lower than them, the bribing officials into endorsement, the hidden and even burned death certificates of lives they couldn't care less about because "We at GEISTER treat others they way they perceive themselves, of course!" The line made her blood boil so much more than it already was that she thought she was going to explode. She was going to rip and tear into their throats like a rabid and untamed beast, spare the axe, forget the axe! They didn't deserve that!

She needed to calm down. She needed to breathe. Keelan found her in a closet, biting and scratching at her arms like she were a shackled and hunted animal; he was quick to get her bandaged and fixed up, blood staining the fresh bits of gauze.

Lily had to admit she started crying, and had promptly fallen asleep for a few hours in Keelan's arms. She was no less angry when she woke up, of course, but she felt like a weight had lifted off of her shoulders.

She had to be smart about her plan this time. She had intercepted an email from them once- a notice about an end of the mandatory end of the year "office party". Maybe she could ask for help on how to send an email to everyone but her targets. Push it back a day or two? She'd have to study the writing extensively, and preferably use a computer from inside the company- they could track that kind of thing, couldn't they? She'd need help too… she didn't want to make mistakes in her current mood.

She'd eventually gotten Seán and Illia to help her format the entire thing, using the plan to also teach her about the importance of professional lingo and the etiquette of the office workspace. Odd, seeing as the only person in her head who would ever want to work in some form of office was Longstocking. Had she been peeking her head out when Lily wasn't conscious? She couldn't tell if the thought made her angrier or if she didn't really care. Either way, she had sent the email to everyone but her targets that night from a computer down in the basement offices, short and sweet, with enough sass to mimic the saccharine facade of the Geister family:

Attention all GEISTER employees!

Due to some private matters on our end, we're afraid we will have to delay our office party from December 30th to December 31st! It is still the same time: six o'clock in the evening. Please take this as a blessing to do whatever you may have needed to do at that time, but do remember that this office party is mandatory, and you will be penalized should you fail to attend.

Merry Christmas, and see you then! Anne Geister.

The trap was now set, Lily had a few more days to calm down. She had a few more days to not think about being called a demon, to try and tackle the seemingly insurmountable obstacle that was her own pain and her father's words, and the fact that she heard there was a new Commisioner in charge of the Yard and God she hoped she hadn't killed him she knew he was old she knew it was risky to hit him that hard but she'd been so angry and now he was off in a hospital bed somewhere from the damage-

She needed to calm down. She was going to mess up at this rate. This was not an assignment she could just hand off to Lucy. She would not carry the necessary rage needed to survive- she never had. She needed to push the thoughts so far back that they shriveled in cowardice.

She had a few more days.

She could do this. She could focused. She was focused.

She had to be.

***

The next night, she waited, seeing that her targets were well on their way; Lily could see them leaving their cars from two floors below where the party was being held. She'd decorated the place on her own, trying to make it look like no one had forgotten about the event. She'd gotten rid of the janitor, calling him to alert him to a "critical situation at his home". Simple, of course, but effective. She had gasoline in jerrycans all prepped and hidden in the bathrooms, ready to be poured all along the level below the party and the level below that, so that the flames rose so high and so fast that hardly anyone would have a chance to escape- save for her, of course. Lily could handle a few flames. Plus, she had checked, double, triple checked both floors in silence in order to make sure no one was on them, working late or otherwise. She heard movement, footsteps heading up and cheerful talk, the elevator somewhere further up. The Geister siblings were happily chatting and gossiping amongst themselves, the others not that far behind.

"I don't see anyone else here. You don't think they'd really be so rude as to ignore our instructions, do you?"

"If they had half a brain, they wouldn't! I'd figure they'd be terrified of you, Anne."

"Poor Sinclaire, I know he was so excited to take hold of the company head."

"Yes, a shame, isn't it? So awful that that Fox got him. You think he tried to negotiate?"

"Of course I do! He had a natural talent for it!"

"But I don't think that demon would bother to listen."

Lily's heartbeat spiked. Calm down. Calm down.

"Really, where does she get off on killing so mindlessly? It's honestly barbaric- she could stand to have a few morals!"

"Did they really confirm it was a woman? I haven't paid attention to news about the York in months. Somehow it doesn't surprise me- women who don't understand the values of the world were never the proper lady kind!"

A door shut upstairs- the party starting, she imagined. She got to work instantly, her blood pounding and ringing in her ears as the gasoline poured from the can, splashing and splattering as she heard her upcoming victims start complaining. Something about how people were running late before it turned to starting the party early. She didn't care right now.

They needed to die, and they needed to burn.

The stench of gasoline burned her nose and stuck to her clothes, her hands, the soles of her feet. She didn't stop pouring until every can was empty, dumping it down the stairs, across the tiles, all over the desks and in every crevice of the rooms. Then, in a rather spontaneous decision. She took the signature mask she had planned to use, took her axe, and chipped at the thing. This one had to be special, this one had to be different. She was making room to bite. She made her way up the stairs to the music and joy, match in hand; she lit it just in time to hear from inside, "Does anyone smell that…?"

She dropped the match.

The flames roared in seconds, the golds and reds and oranges licking at the ceiling and spreading like the plague. There was a scream, the music hardly matched the panic, and Lily swiftly broke the door to the hullabaloo down, the frown in her lips incomparable to the hidden rage in her eyes.

Deuce was the first to leap for her, power and riches making him cocky. Did he think he was the hero here? She was quick to remind him of how little power he had; she roared and screeched like a banshee from hell, biting him square in the neck and ripping out a chunk. The secondborn quickly fell, blood flooding from the artery she had so crudely torn out. The rest all panicked and screamed, falling like dominos. She used her axe as a defense, swinging it to keep herself from being swarmed by the scratching and fighting back, some got struck in the neck, some got beaten and battered and bruised and some tried to leave, but in the end, she had bitten almost everyone. Oddly enough, old Wren and Sirius had remained passed out, not waking up despite the commotion. Perhaps greed on the ends of the Geister children had made them eager for a corporate throne.

As she tore her way through, her own rage and sadness subsided. She was getting it out of her system- violently, but it was being managed. Deuce, Anne, Katherine, Rio, Alister, Lucilia, Kyle, Troy…

Her heartbeat spiked again.

Someone was missing.

Fuck…

Fuck!

It wasn't enough, she had been distracted, someone had left the office- Judd.

Lily ran like hell, burning herself on the flames but not having the heart to care about such things that seemed so trivial. They licked at her heels, scorched her dress, tried to catch on her axe. She found him fleeing down the stairs, limping slightly but still moving quickly. He must have leapt down the stairs, rolling to put himself out. She tried catching up, she really had, it shouldn't have been that hard, he had a fucking limp for crying sake!

But the flames had already started tearing down the building, the place coming down in chunks at a time. She lost sight of her victim in the debris, almost getting caught under it herself. Dammit! She was panicking, she was upset, she needed to breathe and she didn't have the time to! The smoke was beginning to become too much even for her, and she needed to get out. She'd have to track him down. Fast.

The York-Lanc Fox could not become a sloppy killer in the eyes of those who trusted her.

 

---

 

ALERT: ATTENTION LONDON DENIZENS. WE HAVE REPORTS OF A MISSING PERSONS CASE IN REGARDS TO THE BURNING OF GEISTER PHARMACEUTICALS BUILDING DECEMBER 31ST AT 7 PM. JUDD POUJU III SHOWS SIGNS OF HAVING BEEN IN ATTENDANCE WHEN THE BUILDING WAS BURNED. NO BODY HAS BEEN RECOVERED DESPITE OUR SEARCH, AND HAS SINCE BEEN REPORTED MISSING BY LOVED ONES. IF YOU SEE THIS MAN, PLEASE CONTACT SCOTLAND YARD IMMEDIATELY.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 26 of My Self Indulgent Layton AU