Part 1: Past Sins- Closed Personal Saga

Unus

Hell, the place everyone fears, but the place where your dreams are sure to come true, if you have the power to do so. The weak are kicked down into what the strong called paradise. It was paradise for those of power. A place where they could go and enjoy your everyday torture. Those who were unfortunate enough to be the entertainment were mangled and brought back, only to be mangled again. It was how they were going to spend their eternity. It was how I was going to spend mine, until I did what was necessary...

504 years ago...

The world was a much different place. No scientific gadgets to make ones life easier. One had to take what one wanted.

Ian Lancaster, a man of nobility, prosperous in all of his endeavors. Not a man of noble principles or morals though. No. Mr. Lancaster was a man who was ruthless to all of those who stood in his way.

Mr. Lancaster was only 20 years of age, but had everything. Even a loving wife who was at his every beckoning call.

"G'day Mrs. Lancaster. How are you this fine afternoon?" Emile Dickenson, a general store owner a few blocks down the street. She's known Andrea since she was a child and was one of the only ones to stand out against marrying Ian, which the way she looked today was the reason. Emile had decided not to say anything as it was a regular occurrence, and Andrea had asked her not to say anything.

Andrea nodded in lady-like fashion, her beautiful white dress of a noble lady edged with frilly lace and gorgeous patterns covering it. "Good morning Mrs. Dickenson. I am fine today." Though that was hardly the case. A large area around her right eye was dark, though well taken care of as to not to puff up. And though her collar covered it, there were bruises on her neck from when her loving husband strangled her during their bedroom activities.

"As good as I'll ever be as long as you're with that man."

Andrea smiled. "You do not need to worry Emile. I'm better off now than I was on the streets. They beat me worst daily than he has in a week." That wasn't too far from the truth, though what kind of person allows herself to be tortured like that. Andrea, that's who. Both a loving soul as well as weak willed. That came about when she was on the streets as a kid, being beaten by the thieves master who led the group of thirty or so to pick pocket, and steal.

That was the one nice thing Mr. Lancaster had ever done. Killed that bastard who led them down the wrong path. But his evils certainly had over shadowed his good deeds.


"Forty thousand zeni?! That's outrageous! My place is worth a hundred times that!" Mr. Abraham Tisdale, an elderly gentlemen who was not a man of noble principles, but nothing like the man he sat across.

Ian had approached him looking to buy his trading company, one of the wealthiest of companies in West City.

Ian grinned a wicked grin. He had leverage. Forty thousand was just simply him being nice, or rather as nice as he was even willing to be. "Mr. Tisdale, I think forty thousand is quite generous considering. You get to live a fairly modest life. Eat more than the average person, and even take a few trips here and there and probably still have money left over."

Tisdale looked at him with a questioning glance. What did this man have on him that he didn't already clean up? "What do you mean 'considering'?"

Ian shrugged and let out a sigh. "I didn't really want to say anything. I had hoped you had seen it my way before anything happened, but..." He stood up and walked to the window, motioning for Tisdale to follow.

Outside the window was a couple of men standing with a lovely young girl who even at this height, looked distraught. The girl was merely seventeen, Tisdale's only daughter. The men themselves seemed to be enjoying their job a bit, making a show of terrible perversion. Though it was only that, a show.

Ian was anything, if not a Gentleman. "You see my dear Mr. Tisdale, your daughter is quite enjoying herself with a couple of my workers." He turned and grabbed his coat and top hat and headed for the door. "I give you three hours to decide. If I don't hear from you by four am, I shall assume you cherish your business more so than your own daughter's life. Good day kind sir."

Ian grabbed the door knob when Mr. Tisdale spoke up. "Hang on Mr. Lancaster. You are right. I don't know what I was thinking. That is a generous offer. I assume you have the contracts on your person?"

Ian nodded and pulled out a stack of them. "Right here my good sir." Ian handed him the paper work which Tisdale quickly signed and initialized where ever it was needed, then handed them back.

"Good, Good!" Ian held out his hand. "I am glad we can do business father."

"Father?" Tisdale was dumbfounded.

"Yes! Didn't you read the contract?" He dug through the stack and pulled out a signed slip that was a consent to marry his daughter. "Per this, you give consent to marry your daughter and that I am entitled to everything should you pass on. So, you should come by during the holidays, we'll have a lovely get together with the family."

"You're already married." Tisdale was turning beet red with fury. The boy who dared come up to a once feared business man.

"As of today, I am a widow I am sorry to say. My wife died suddenly while shopping for groceries. It is truly a sad day for me. But this is good news, so it has liven up my day a bit. I thank you most graciously." Ian tipped his hat, and left the helpless old man to his own thoughts and fury.


Andrea laid down the bills. A dizzy spell took hold as cold sweat poured from her brow. It took mere moments, but she collapsed, striking her chin on the oak counter with a nasty gut turning crack before lying lifelessly on the floor.

"Andrea! Andrea!" Emile called out, screaming for help. It didn't take long before the police showed, but she was already dead.


The satisfying knock came at his door later that evening. Ian sat there, cup of wine in hand, listening to a concerto from his favorite composer of that time. He took a sip and from what he learned back in the day as a child, got himself ready for the news of his wife's death. The news that would bring tears to his eyes.

The door opened to what he expected. Police officers with news they didn't particularly like to give. "Mr. Lancaster?"

"Yes officers." Lancaster put a worried look on his face as one would expect from a sudden visit by the law.

"I am sorry to say Mr. Lancaster, but your wife, Andrea Brolin Lancaster died earlier today. She seemed to have fallen suddenly ill and collapsed, breaking her her neck on a counter in the general store."

Ian's eyes grew wide with false surprise and his eyes welled up and began streaming with tears. "I'm... I don't know what to say honestly."

"Mr. Lancaster, we've also found several markings on her body from someone hitting her repeatedly." Ian's eyes darted back and forth between the two officers, feigning a confused look. "Sir, do you know how she got them?"

He had to say some truth, and that day and age, it would be believable. "There are probably some markings around her neck. Her and I used to practice some intense sexual positions. Last night was our first time doing such a thing." That was partially true, but truth was, they did it every night and he loved the feeling of her nearly going lifeless as he continued to have his way. It made him feel powerful.

The two cops looked at one another, unsure as to what to say. It wasn't very common, nor was beating your wife, though that was legal. "Your wife seemed to have been beaten severely. We aren't sure if that is what killed her or not. We have reports though that you are the cause of the beatings. We'd like you to come down to the station please. We have a few questions.

That bitch Emile. He knew who it was. Emile was the only one brave enough to say anything. She really had nothing to lose.

"Of course officers. Let me grab my hat and coat." He purposely put them in the living room so that he could leave a letter in case he was arrested. He always had a back up plan. Always.

He laid the envelope on the table, underneath a fruit dish and grabbed his hat and coat and left, locking the door behind. Two men stood across in the shadows of a dark alley way. He didn't make eye contact, but they had their orders.

WC:1575
TWC:1575

Once Ian and the police were out of eye shot, they moved, making sure no one saw them. Their task was simple, break in, trash the price, steal some stuff and leave an envelope with demands and threats. The one responsible for the threats? Supposedly Mr. Tisdale. His signature, his seal. It was another page in the so called contract Ian had him sign earlier that day. Just hiding within the stack.


"You claim the choke marks are ones you made right?" The police officer was not the one who brought him in. This one was a detective, one that is well versed in sniffing out the lying scum that sat in the chair Ian now sat it. Guess things weren't so different now, except he had a plan. It thought it all through.

"Yes sir. I caused those marks. We were looking for ways to increase our sexual experiences. We understood it was dangerous, but we had to try it out."

The officer studied the completely exhausted face of Ian. He was faking it of course, but he faked it well. "Witnesses state they saw her with bruises constantly."

Ian nodded, giving a sigh of resignation. "I tried to tell her to contact the police regarding that matter. But she refused to let me do anything to help her. All she said was that she would take care of it on her own."

"So you let her."

"I trusted my wife detective. When she said she was going to do something, she did it."

The detective let out a sigh. They had been at it for a couple of hours now, and was getting no where. The autopsy report hasn't gotten back yet.

"You're free to go. Just stay in town Mr. Lancaster. We'll have more questions."

Ian stood and nodded his farewells before leaving the interrogation room and the over worked detective to the house he expected to be utterly trashed.


When he arrived, many people surrounded the outside, as well as the police. Again he had to act his dismay at the atrocities that one had committed to his personal possessions.

As he approached, he could here several laughing at his misfortune. He heard them gawk as the one man who deserved misery the most, got it. First his wife, then his house. Little did they know though, it was all part of a nasty little plan to become one of the wealthiest men in the world. Tisdale Trading Company was his, as well as the man's daughter, and every cent he would receive from his will.

Ian pushed through the crowd, until he came up to the line. He of course was let in to inspect the damage. And damage there was. They had done significant damage to his place. Multi-thousand zeni pieces of artwork, statues, furniture, vases. Normally he'd be furious, but they could all be replaced. And there was the letter, in another detective's hand.

The detective looked over. "I'm sorry sir, but whatever happened with Mr. Tisdale, seemed to have come back to bite you sir. It appears he was the cause of your wife's murder, and this destruction here. Something about your acquisition of his company."

"Yeah, earlier today, he signed some papers that made me the owner of Tisdale Trading. Business can be nasty. I guess he didn't like the deal in the end."

"My sincere apologies sir. I'll make sure justice is served."

Justice will be served in Ian's eyes, but not for the general populace. It'd still be years before he got the money from the will, but till them, he had a wife to woo, as well as a new place to find with what he had left.

"Looks like I've got some stuff to replace. Maybe find a new place. I thank you officers for your quick response."

WC:655
TWC:2230

The officers were soon gone, leaving Ian Lancaster to himself in the home that he and his late wife shared, except he wasn't side, nor angry at the destruction that was left. No. Ian was a happy young man. Everything was falling into place. He put on some music and began laughing, dancing around in a merry fashion. In four months time, when he had ample time to mourn the death of his wife, he would wed the gorgeous and young Mary Tisdale. Soon to be Mary Lancaster. The would live a short life together as he would find the next opportunity and move on them.


Next morning was a brand new day, though he couldn't smile, he couldn't do much for he had to mourn his wife. It would be a hard couple of months. The first couple of weeks would be toughest. In about a month, he could begin "dating" Mary.

"Tis going to be a great day," he said to himself, in an almost musical tone.

There was a loud crash and bang as the front door came flying open. He sat up in his bed, rolling out, he grabbed his cane which secreted a sword within it. He ran out his room and down the stairs, his bare feet hitting the wood floor with a pitter patter.

He entered the main hallway and only found his door splintered and wide open. Muddy prints from the outside trailed in and around. He followed them, ready to draw his sword should anyone attack him. Entering the living room, he saw Mr. Tisdale in his favorite chair, buffing on a pipe.

"My dear Mr. Lancaster. Are you so comfortable with your life that you sleep in?"

Ian looked at the man in his chair. "I apologize, yesterday was... a long day. It's been emotionally draining. So what can I do for you future father."

Tisdale stood up, there was a knife in his other hand. "So it seems the police is looking for me. Saying i killed poor Andrea Lancaster. That I or my thugs beat her to a bruised corpse. Mr. Lancaster, you truly are a monster. You want to be the most powerful man in West city?"

Ian grinned. "No, I have bigger ambitions than that."

"Then you are in the right field. You will face against those who are more of a monster than you. I could've been there, but I have my limits." He held the knife to his wrist and cut deeply and quickly. "Before I die, know that my daughter is aware of the monster you are. Should you mistreat her, you will find she can be much more outgoing than your late wife. Don't under estimate women Ian."

Ian laughed as Tisdale fell to the floor, taking his last breaths as the life blood seeped out onto his wood floor. It wouldn't matter much, he owned everything the man had, so he'd take his house. Simple as that. Until then...

Ian ran out of the house, screaming for help. Screaming for police. "He's dead! He took his own life! Someone! Police!"

It took a few minutes for police and the doctors to arrive, but by then, it was too late. His body was carried out. He was obviously suspect. But it was an obvious suicide. Ian was pleased on the inside, knowing things would be going a bit faster.

After a couple of days, the funeral was held, which Ian did go to. He looked on with quiet glee as Mary Tisdale bawled her eyes out at the loss of her father. There was no family to comfort her, only her father's business partners who were there like him, to try and get something out of it. Unfortunately, he already had what they were after. And soon she would be his.

The funeral ended and everyone departed. Ian walked up to the weeping girl. "Your father was a great man."

The look she gave him would have sent shivers down a lesser man's spine, but he wasn't a lesser man. He was a man that put the fear of god into people. "So, shall we go see what your father left us, my future wife."

She knew what her father had done, and she didn't like any of it.

WC:730
TWC:2960

The Law Office of Kingsman, a large firm that Tisdale had hired to manage his legal stuff. And now they were under Ian's control. He would certainly continue to employ them. God knows, he's going to need it often.

He placed his hand in Mary's who quickly pulled away. He only smiled at her stubborn-ness. Soon though, she would come to care for him. And if not, she would at least please him. They entered the office together and sat down to hear what Ian was already aware of.

"I am sorry to hear of your father's death Mary. He was a great man."

"Thank you Thomas. Can we get on with this?"

He nodded and pulled out a stack of papers about six thick and began reading. Everything that had sentimental value was first and all went to Mary. Which made sense. Ian didn't want that stuff anyway. He wanted his fortune and estate.

"And all my other worldly possessions including my funds and homes, go to my daughter Mary. May you live in peace and forgive me of my short comings."

Ian smiled. He didn't say it, but he knew that last sentence was in regards to the marriage.

"And for Ian Lancaster. I hereby deny your marriage of my daughter. Kingsman lawyers are under final orders to see that you are not to be within five hundred feet from her."

Ian scoffed at what was read. "He is under contract. Mary is mine and as is everything else." He pulled out the very contract and handed it to the lawyer. "This is the contract. You can read it yourself."

The lawyer waved his hands. "We shall see it in court. Until then, please leave now, or we will call the authorities. This will be settled in court."

Ian nodded and got up. "Very well, but it is a legally binding contract."


It only took a couple of weeks before the courts ruled in Ian's favor. It was a legal contract in every way. And immediately, they were married in front of a judge with the witnesses being the very men that ransacked his old house.

Once the words "I do" were said, he grabbed her and kissed her, forcing her to accept it. It was a brutal world, and for hers, it ended at those terrible words.


The world was his, or rather a small part of the world was. He was in high spirits. Mary was broken and did everything he asked. They were building onto the Tisdale estate, making it twice the size. He had acquired a dozen businesses, and he had marriages in other countries.

Life was grand, at least until he had realized that Mary was simply biding her time until he was comfortable.


Yeah, that was a painful lesson. Women could not be trusted any more, but it was a lesson I had to take with me to hell, with the throat cut open. Note to self, never underestimate a woman. Now I also got justice. Yes, she was placed in a mental hospital where she ended up killing herself. Now she remains in purgatory without a purpose. And there she waited for anything to happen. I saw her a few times, but it seemed the lobotomy they gave her carried over into the after life. Shame.

WC:564
TWC:3524