Tomorrow's meeting loomed heavily over Beau's head as he made the finishing touches on his magic gun. It was early morning and considering his mood he decided to keep the shop closed, as he had done for the past few days.

Luckily Sheila had brought food around almost every day otherwise, he would have starved. He was past the point of caring if people thought he was being childish.

He had practiced all morning before making the final changes which were just minor changes to the ergonomics of the handle and the length of the barrel. The intricate details like the magic circles and the firing chamber had been completed a while ago which meant he'd had plenty of time to practice.

He had sewn a lining on the inside of his overcoat for spare magazines as he found that it was quicker to change them out than refilling the old one with new bullets using magic.

He had even summoned his mana shield which had left so many enemies completely dumbfounded and helpless in the past and the gun managed to pierce through that as well. Truly a deadly weapon, Beau couldn't help but gulp when he realised just what he had created.

His day was, again uneventful. Thankfully the clock chimed signaling his departure. He slipped the mask into the inside pocket of his overcoat and after putting his hat, gloves, and scarf on left for the mansion to the East of the city.

Before setting off however, something caught his eye. There was a small cube resting on his window sill. He immediately recognized it as one of his voice recorders. He picked it up only to notice a note saying 'inject magic here.' He laughed as it as the exact same words he'd put on the voice recorder at the double murder. He followed the instructions and was greeted by. a crackling sound, then a woman's voice pierced the silent night - “I don't know what happened to you but take your time. I'll wait for you to contact me.” It abruptly cut off leaving Beau standing with a crooked smile on his face. He unlocked the door to his house and dropped the recorder inside before heading out.

He mounted his trusty steed (his bicycle) and rode it at a steady pace somewhere safe for him to leave it. Making sure not to park it near the mansion, even just owning a bicycle already stood out more than Beau would have liked.

He locked the bicycle up and massaged his sore bottom. He really needed to invent a magic item for this. Like a seat cushion or vibration absorber or something. His mind flew in all kinds of directions as he straightened his clothes and started his trek.

Dawn had come and gone at it was already dark in the cold England street. The mansion was letting people in only after being presented an invitation.

“Welcome Sir, if you would be so kind as to show your invitation I can let you right in.”

“Of course.” Beau drew the letter addressed to Johnathan Toole and handed it to the man.

“Very good sir, have a lovely night.”

“Why, thank you. I'm sure I will” He smirked with a devilish grin. As he entered he silently slipped the mask over his face before anyone could see him.

The reason being – it was a masquerade party, how convenient. Another servant helped him out of his overcoat and took his hat and gloves, trading it for a card with a number so that he could claim them later, Beau had taken the precautions of dying his hair grey for the occasion.

His usual azure hair would stick out like a sore thumb. It made him look older but more civilised, not that anyone could see as he had his mask on. After sweeping the contents of the room he headed to the bar. No use in wasting the opportunity in free drinks.

As he was nursing a glass of whiskey a small lady in a green dress and a feathery mask approached him.

“I've watched you not take a sip of that drink for half an hour. Have you got something on your mind?” She leant her elbows onto the bar table as she looked at him inquisitively.

“You could say that, more importantly, you've been watching me for half an hour?”

She laughed. “Don't look at me like that, I haven't been staring, just glances every now and then. You're mask is quite plain in comparison to everyone elses.”

“Well, I don't really like to stand out.”

“That doesn't really make sense, you wearing a mask that is so vastly different to everyone elses is going to make you stand out more... Am I wrong?”

Beau realised the error of his words and corrected himself.

“You're right, maybe I'm just not one for frills and feathers.”

“That sounds more believable.” He smiled at her, wondering if she had realised that he didn't want to talk to anyone. Unfortunately for him, she had realised, she just didn't care.

“This music is lovely don't you think?”

Beau sighed as he tuned into the generic romantic piano music that played in the background of the chatter.”

“Slightly above average I'd say.”

“Big words! Might you be able to do better?”

“Ma'am, I can play better than that with my left had tied behind my back.”

“Oh, finally feel like talking?”

“Yes and no.”

With that he picked himself up off the bar stool and downed his whiskey in an act that he hoped would silence the green lady. He started to walk in the direction of a door that was currently being held open by a servant and a man's invitation was being read before being let in.

As Beau approached he changed his hair to match Johnathan Toole's. After the servant read his invitation he nodded and held the door open for Beau. He entered a small hall that very quickly opened up into a large sitting room. Leaving the quiet din of the party behind him.

The party had been advertised for Carter members, of course, Creed used this opportunity for a meeting. Before entering the room he paused behind the wall and after confirming what he had just heard came to a complete stop with his mouth agape. He quickly tried to hug the wall and keep from being noticed.

As the conversation progressed, Beau's expectations and sense of urgency were completely warped. What he was hearing at the moment could only be described with two words: High treason.

Before getting anymore information he heard one of the members shush the meeting's participants.

“We have a rat.”

Beau shifted, he had finally been spotted. Odd though, there shouldn't be anyone with the ability to sense his mana, his shields were too good. Which meant...

He turned around and there was another man behind Beau who was currently brandishing a knife with the pointy end directly threatening Beau.

“Ugh, I hate it when they don't have mana.”

Beau quickly brandished the pistol but decided to hold back from using it because the bullet would pass straight through the man, the door and could very well hit someone attending the party just beyond it.

He smoothly summoned a metal spike that slid perfectly into the mans skull as he tried to rush forward to get the jump on Beau.

Beau turned to see around fifteen people, the members of the meeting. He'd have to work quickly.

Raising the pistol to aim at the heads of the Creed members he unleashed the first magazine, taking out three people, one of the were magicians, before anyone could do anything.

After they took cover Beau activated his mana shield as a multitude of high level attacking spells collided with the shield or ricocheting off it. The rest of the members had taken cover behind various items of furniture, or opted to create their own shields, all of them being sub par in comparison to Beau's, but they didn't know that.

He unloaded the rest of that magazine into a sofa he knew people were hiding behind. He heard a few grunts and a body collapsing onto the floor, causing his head to poke out from the side fo the sofa.

Bearing in mind he was being bombarded with at least five people's magic and that they were all at a reasonably high level, his shield could only hold out for another minute or so. He approached the nearest item of furniture and ducked behind it as he switched the magazine in his pistol. The chair was ripped apart in a matter of seconds as the Creed members went on the offensive. Beau was left in the open with his back to them.One of the Creed members smirked as if they had won. If only he could have seen Beau's smirk at that particular moment which was almost twice as wide. As Beau gently reached inside his jacket he stood up whilst slowly turning to face the attackers, revealing a second, jet white pistol that contrasted beautifully with the abyss black of the other. He began raining bullets on the unsuspecting members of the Creed. After mercilessly slaughtering the front liners he caught a blinding flash in the backgroung. Unfortunately it could mean only one thing.

One of the Creed members smirked as if they had won. If only he could have seen Beau's smirk at that particular moment which was almost twice as wide. As Beau gently reached inside his jacket he stood up whilst slowly turning to face the attackers, revealing a second, jet white pistol that contrasted beautifully with the abyss black of the other. He began raining bullets on the unsuspecting members of the Creed. After mercilessly slaughtering the front lines he caught a blinding flash in the background. Unfortunately, it could mean only one thing.

“Oh no you don't.”

Beau ran to the nearby table the white light came from and vaulted over it only to find an empty space with a crudely drawn teleportation circle.

“FUCK!”

He kicked the table, completely splitting it in half.

There was no way he would try and follow them, he barely had any mana left and they could have set any manner of trap in preparation for him. He could only curse and hope there was something worthy amongst the wreckage.

After looking around for half an hour and finding a couple of interesting things, he straightened himself out, allowing for a brief moment for a recap. Almost scaring himself to death when he saw his grey hair before remembering it was temporary. He had managed to kill eleven people, meaning four people got away. Considering they were at the back, they were likely the most important as well. Although, Beau had found something of great interest on one of the corpses. It was some sort of written agreement and included another name that made Beau tremble. Just what exactly was going on here?

He made his way out of the room, the servant gave him a weird look but he just smiled, realising it was hidden behind his mask he decided he should just leave. Before leaving he remembered the occasion and headed almost instinctively to the bar. The whiskey here was top class, even if the party goers were all religious nuts. After wetting his lips with the first swig he was quickly interrupted, unsurprisingly by the green lady from before.

“Where have you been, I've been looking all over for you!”

“I see.” He was in no mood, however, yet again she tactfully ignored his blatant disinterest and continued her rant.

“Everyone here's so boring, and the music's dull and no one's drinking at all!”

“My lady, I believe you've mistaken me for someone.”

“Oh you do? Who do you think I think you are?”

“Someone who cares...”

With that he got up and promptly left the building. He was deifinitely not in the mood for a conversation with some stuck up rich lady with a bad attitude, if he was going to have a conversation he would much rather it be with someone like Watson.

As he rode home with his overcoat flapping in the wind and his hand on his hat trying to keep it from blowing off he mulled over exactly what he had heard that night and the implications behind it. No doubt that even if they had prepared for his appereance, they weren't ready for how much damage he inflicted or for his stealth approach. Compared to how he usually did things it was a fair assumption on their part.

Still those two words rang in his head.

“What could they possibly want with the Queen?” He muttered aloud.

----------------------------------------------

Watson had had a slow week and an even slower weekend. Sunday had come and gone so quickly she barely got a chance to put her feet up. What did a single police officer do on the weekend? You might ask, well, she was asking herself the same question.

She had plans with Beau, but they had gone out of the window quicker than anything she's ever seen. She also had planned to go out to a party with some friends but again, she was cancelled on. She pouted as she worked on her distraction for the day. Beau had given her a starter's magic circle to practice drawing and it was safe to say she'd become a master at it.

Actually it was a beginners circle that even a child could draw given enough time, but, the secret was why you draw it. It represented the very foundation of magic circles, and if one chose to do so, they could look a lot deeper than just the drawing itself. She had also, to some varying success, created her own functioning magic circles. Doing something useless like slightly rising in temperature. Still, she was proud of her achievement and definitely couldn't wait to show Beau the fruits of her labour.

Unfortunately, what awaited her on Monday was not a young handsome blue haired man, but a short ugly brown haired man called Spencer.

“M-m-m-ma'am. Th-th-there's b-b-been t-t-t-trouble.”

“That was a stutter on every word Spencer. You sure you're not getting worse.”

“I b-b-believe it's th-the n-n-nerves Ma'am”

“Right-o. Explain the situation on the way over. She climbed skillfully into the carriage and it set off towards a particular mansion.