The Recollection

He was cold, as were his face and eyes. The single white streak in his hair was the only indication to people that he was coming, but they could not escape the deadly steel of his razor. Ever since he had ben brought back to life, he felt...nothing. No happiness, no fear, anger, or any other emotion associated with being human. The sight of blood failed to arouse him as it had done years past. It was as if a part of him had been left down in Hell.

Only one name stuck out in his mind: Sweeney Todd. Every night, he abandoned his lair in Fleet Street and went searching for men to slaughter. Tonight was to be no different--until he met the girl. A girl who made him remember his long-lost past.



Year 2009, 163 years after the events of Sweeney Todd



"Excuse me, sir, but could I speak to you for a moment in private?"

"What?!" Annoyed, the man turned to confront the person who had the guts to interrupt the conversation he was having with his wife. Taking in the guy's hollow eyes, old-style clothing, and pale complexion, he deduced he was a beggar. "Sorry, I don't have anything to give you. Now run along before I knock you on your ungrateful ass." A hand grabbed the man's shoulder as he began to walk away. "Hey, get your filthy mitts off, you bastard!"

"I must insist you come with me, sir," Sweeney said in a dangerously low tone, dragging his struggling prey into a darkened alley. Unfolding one of his razors, the demon barber backed the man against a building, pitiless gaze unwavering. "Pray to your God, vermin, for this is the last day you spend on Earth." Jerking his arm, he alid open his victim's throat, the hot blood dousing his face and clothes. Letting the corpse fall to the ground, Sweeney was polishing his beloved razor when a scuffle sounded nearby. Clutching the blade, he crept to the alley's entrance, watching an eight-year-old girl being slapped repeatedly by her drunken father. Something about her torn shirt, the tears on her red face, tore through the barber like a white-hot poker. Images started to fill his mind....

A hard blow to the back of his head drove him to his knees, dots obscuring his vision. His wife screamed for him, but he was unable to respond as two policemen hauled him upright. Crying from the bundle in her arms wrenched at his heart, tearing the baby's name from his lips. "Johanna!"

Memories of his past rushed back to Sweeney suddenly, fueling unlocked rage that turned the world a vivid red. He remembered Mrs. Lovett, the killings, everything. The child's next tortured yell compelled the demon barber to step forward. "Leave her alone, swine!"

Pausing in the middle of a backhanded blow, the staggering man turned clumsily to snarl at Sweeney. "What did you say, punk? I got half a mind to make you eat them words. This here is my child and nothing you can do will---HEY! Let's not get crazy, now." Stiffening as the razor's blade bit into his skin, the man drew a fearful breath. Hell, he hadn't even seen the guy move. "Who are you?"

"The Demon Barber of Fleet Street," Sweeney hissed, spinning the man to face him, gaze blazing. "You've just been targeted, my friend. Oh, and I promise to look after your daughter since she no longer needs you." Sweeping the razor in a broad arc, he split his prey's flesh, savoring the gouts of crimson that fanned in the air. Pocketing the blade, the demon barber turned and picked up the shivering girl who wrapped her thin arms around his neck, too young to understand what had happened.