That Butler, New Face

That Butler, Omnipotent 3

{At The H.Q. Of A Certain Member Of The Italian Mafia...}

Ciel had regained consciousness only to find that he was now being held captive in a well-guarded mansion. He had been bound with leather straps, and his wrists and ankles were cuffed and chained together, severely limiting his ability to move. The room he was in was dimly lit, but Ciel could hear the faint ticking of a clock in the background, and he could still see the large Doberman that was growling only a few feet away from him. Ciel's kidnapper began to speak.

"You, the 'order' of the Inghilterra underworld. Dissidents meet their end in the jaws of your absolute power... you, watchdog of the Queen. Over many generations has your kind done the government's dirty work... you, the Aristocrat of Evil. Tell me, how many aliases do you have? How many 'Families' have you ruined?" the man asked Ciel cynically as he trimmed his cigar with a guillotine cigar cutter and lit it. "The king of the number one toy factory in the world is just a brat, in this situation. Isn't that  right... Ciel Phantomhive?" Ciel glared at the man. His captor was a dark-haired man. He had a scar across his face, and piercings in one of  his eyebrow and both his ears. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a pinstriped suit. He had been one of Ciel's 'guests' in the Billiards room earlier that day. "A man should not be judged by his looks... still... I suppose it does make sense for the king of the toy place to be a child," the man said as he set his cigar cutter down on the table.

"So it was you. The Ferro Family's, Azzurro Vanel," Ciel said darkly as he continued to glare. Vanel leered at Ciel.

"Si! You know, little Phantomhive, here, in your country, it is difficult to do for us Italians to conduct business," Vanel said patronizingly. "Very, very difficult. You Inglesi all have tea stains on your brains." The Doberman growled. "Think about it," Vanel said. "What do you think  is the best way for people like us to make money?" Vanel's smirk was becoming more twisted the longer he spoke. "Not murder, not smuggling, not women, not organs—that leaves drugs, yes?" Vanel, realizing he was ranting, relaxed himself and leaned against a table, tapping his finger on its edge. "But once we arrived here, there was not even a whiff of mellow fragrance in this country—all thanks to the watchdog."

"It is by order of the queen that dealers and drugs are controlled," Ciel said.

"Oh dear, what a prude, There you have it! The reason I hate the Inglesi!" Vanel said sarcastically. "Queen this! Queen that! You are nothing but a bunch of mama's boys," Vanel laughed. "Still... at the end of the day, you and I are two sides of the same coin. We would like to make some money with you if possible."

"I have no intention of colluding with a filthy sewer rat," Ciel said darkly. As if he could be bought, the very idea insulted Ciel.

"So you say, but I wonder about the other fellows. Maybe they are just afraid of the watchdog and are sitting tight for the time being... in fear of Ciel Phantomhive, sweeper of the dark," Vanel said, taking a puff on his cigar. "I was especially careful to not deal those drugs in Italy, so it surprises me that you found me so fast. I didn't think you would use Chlaus to get them," Vanel shrugged. "That's why me, I am useless. The boss, he will yell at me again," Vanel laughed. "Now, you understand what I want? If you tell me where the drugs are, I send you home alive... little Phantomhive."

"If I fail to return, Chlaus will hand the evidence over to the government. Most unfortunate for you," Ciel said mockingly, smirking. Vanel pulled out his pistol and cocked it, aiming it at Ciel.

"One must never look down on one's elders... you snot-nosed little noble!" Vanel sneered angrily. "I already have my men over at your mansion. Where are the drugs? If you don't spit it out pronto... I shall kill your servants one by one!" Ciel perked up when he heard that... Chêne was still there... He bowed his head, as though in defeat, before throwing his head back haughtily.