Buried beneath the fog and filth lay an ally way, dim in the faint glow of a single withering ember. The clock tower bells resonated, signifying the late hour of twelve as its chimes eerily echoed in the distance. Stone walls enveloped the narrow walkway, cast aside and forgotten much like an orphaned child, the subtle sounding of movements and breath shadowed the hollow sense amidst the streets, originating from mere vermin scurrying along the walls and damp ground in search of something to settle their rousing hunger. And yet it was not only them who inhabited the abandoned backstreet. There was a man. His back resting against the jagged cobble stone, eyes turned upwards towards the illusion of a clouded sky.

However, peace remained for only a moment longer, a prayer going unfinished, as his body convulsed violently. His limbs twisted inhumanly as his body writhed in pain. He opened his mouth to let out a cry but not a single sound fell from his tongue. His throat had begun to close. He gasped desperately, tears that had now turned to blood rolling down his cheeks. Hope had long since vanished that salvation would be granted to him, and forlorn were his dying breaths, unheard by none. Soon did he desperately being to tear at the tattered clothing that hung loosely to his sickly thin frame, ripping at the very flesh of his body as a smoldering sensation over took every inch of the bruised, but pale, epidermis.

The man reached out in aspiration that he would grab a hold of something, anything that would ease himself in this time of dying. He was met with a sharp pain that splintered him to the very core of his body. Without the time to asses what exactly had happened to him, a pool of blood began to form around him, a deep, almost black, shade of red in the darkness. Riddled with a throbbing pain, he pathetically craned his neck and found that over him stood a cloaked figure, a strange object glistening with fresh blood, protruding from its clenched fist.

"M-morte?" The man spoke hoarsely, a thick Italian accent coating his stuttered and muffled words like a bittersweet coating

The silhouette gave a contemptuous chuckle, revealing its gender to be male. Letting its eyes run along the man that lay sprawled upon the filthy ground. Beside him approached yet another figure, but at the angle in which this one approached its features became more defined, almost flawless, in the dim glow of the gaslight. It, too, proved to be a man. His hair was a light blond, almost white which was quite strange for a man of such a young age, stopping at his shoulders and flowed delicately in the soft breeze; his complexion was incredibly fair, handsome really. He possessed invigorating, and yet piercing emerald eyes; eyes in which the dying man could have never forgotten.

Looking up to the other figure, his eyes grew wide and his jaw slacked in an overpowering feeling of shock and horror. In time before he found that he could part his lips to scream, a swift kick came to his chest, seeming to steal any breath that had been remaining in his lungs.

"H-help…" He coughed, blood spurting from his mouth, his body giving one last convulsion before becoming lifelessly limp.

"Disgusting." The ash-blonde man spat before turning on his heal. "Now take care of him." He stated flatly, making his way from the alley and back into the streets. The other only nodded, watching him as he left.

"Disgusting indeed. A new bread of vermin, wouldn't you say?" The assailant muttered as he took the man's limbs into his gloved hands and tied them mercilessly before wrapping the cadaver in a white sheet. Slinging the corpse over his shoulder, he eyed the entrance of the pathway once more. Smirking, he gave an insidious chuckle, disappearing behind the building without a trace.

Whistling filled the empty streets there after as a local police man made his evening rounds through the slums. With his left hand he swung a baton skillfully, eyes looking about him curiously but not as much intuitively. The clicking of his heals dominated the silence that plagued the grounds, his head held high, a man quite content with his life. As he came upon the alley way, his footfalls came to a halt and his joys tunes died down. His eyes narrowed in intuition, and he turned his head to glance down the path. The officer stood there for a moment, looking left and then right. Finding nothing, he gave a light shrug, and continued on his way, whistling filling the vacant avenues once more.