With a portion of action; a heaping helping of wacky comedy; a touch of romance; a pint of poignancy; a teaspoon of sweetness and a peppering of characters from multiple movies, I hope you enjoy this story!
Bon appétit!
Oh, and yes: I created the cover art featuring Bolt.
Chapter 1
An Intriguing Intruder
*( ( BOOOOM! ) )*
That ear-splitting noise shook the blue rat from unconsciousness.
Remy sat up in a hurry, temporarily forgetting where he was and what was happening. Man, his head hurt. He looked about and found that he was in the middle of a street. Around him was the French cityscape he called home, but clouds of dust obscured much of his surroundings. His unusually sensitive nose quickly sorted through the scents of his environment. He smelled fire; he smelled rubble; he smelled strange chemical reactions unlike anything to ever meet his nose. Wait … he remembered sensing similar chemical odours before this. They came from a familiar rodent … a girl.
Where was she? He had to find her!
*( ( FWOOOOM! ) )*
That noise almost caused him to jump out of his skin. What was it? An explosion?
Remy looked for the source of the sound and saw two titans clashing: one, a mammoth of a man in a scarlet suit with a stylised 'I' on his chest; the other, a massive machine in red armour.
Mr. Incredible.
Baymax.
The juggernauts fought with fists like thunder. Every time they hammered a hit, the resulting shockwave was nothing short of an explosion.
At the side of his eye, Remy caught a flash of white and a blast of flame.
He darted out of the way as streams of frost and fire collided where he sat. His tail felt the chill and heat of the competing forces. That was way too close! The creators of the blasts stood silhouetted in the mist and smoke they had birthed: a teen in a kaiju costume and a man in a blue and white super suit.
Remy scampered through the street, following the enchanting scent of the rodent he sought to find. Around him, two figures blurred as they fought with frenetic speed, nearly crushing him. He couldn't quite make them out, but his ears caught bits of their banter:
"Ha! Missed me, GoGo!"
"GRR! We'll see about that, Incrediboy!"
"Stop calling me that!"
On the periphery of his vision, Remy glimpsed laser-induced plasma clashing with force fields. The only thing missing from this scene was an elastic woman and a girl with a chemical lab for a purse. He didn't bother giving them thought. In fact, he tried to ignore them all. He only had one concern, and soon that "concern" was in sight ahead of him amid the clouds of dust. With raspberry-red fur, she held her head in shock as she witnessed the destruction around her.
"This is all my fault …" she muttered, almost whimpered.
Then a four-legged form sprang from out of nowhere, snatched her up and galloped into an alley.
"NO!" shouted Remy.
Hey, Remy here! Yeah, I know that was all pretty crazy. We should backtrack to the beginning. That'll shed some light on how these big heroes wound up clashing in this incredible battle.
I'm sure you remember me, because we've all watched Ratatouille, right? Well, if you haven't, you should be ashamed of yourself … I'm just kidding! Still, it is a pretty good movie so you got to watch it if you have not – man, I'm starting to sound like Zack Scott now. Anyway, that's a different subject. Moving on.
If you know anything about me, you know that I love to cook – finally managed to score a job at Gusteau's restaurant too! My career had a bit of a hiccup, though, when Gusteau's got shut down due to the discovery of a "rat infestation", (namely myself and my hard-working kinsmen). My human friend, Linguini, and I started our own restaurant, La Ratatouille, and somehow managed to pull a few strings so that I and my rodent brethren could legally work in the food industry. We became the talk of the town. Everybody couldn't get enough of La Ratatouille. As business boomed, we upgraded our facilities until our humble restaurant was right up there with the greatest, grandest establishments in all of Paris. I'm still waiting for someone to pinch me and tell me it's all just a dream! I was pretty sure my adventures were over and life couldn't get any more crazy and exciting!
Until I met this girl …
The kitchen was silent in the wee hours of the night,
save the *plink*, *plink*, *plink* of a dripping faucet at the sink.
Not a creature was stirring, not even a rat,
until such a rodent emerged from a basin drain in an unhygienic state at that.
The moment she climbed into the sink, the savoury scents of the restaurant hit her like a tsunami. Her keen nose feasted on the faint aromas of wondrous recipes prepared the day prior. She could also smell traces of another rat. Not a concern – probably an intruder like herself, who had recently departed. Too bad the delightful meals had long been served to the eager diners. However, there were other options. Her nose had already picked up a produce storage area packed with goodies. It was enough to draw a growl from her empty stomach.
"Okay, okay, focus," she told herself as she secured the rodent-sized crossbody bag on her shoulder. "Just do what you came here to- EEEEEEK!"
And what had triggered her squeal? The sight of her own reflection in the sink's silver side surface, lit by streetlights streaming through the window. Looking like the living embodiment of all that was icky, she had no idea that she was that … that … 'ewwww'! How in the world had she not realized-? Oh, right.
Her perfume.
Even with her sensitive nose, the perfume had almost masked the grimy scent. In fact, this perfume could override most unpleasant odours. It was one of her secret recipes, and she was very proud of it. The only ways to get it off were a chemical cancelling agent and lots and lots of time. To think this perfume was just a "primer" to prepare her for a much greater creation.
Yes, with her impeccable aroma, she had actually tricked herself into forgetting how filthy she was. In the past few days, she had done little to take care of herself: always so busy, always so hurried, but so, sooo close to her goals. However, her goals would have to wait a few minutes.
If she remained in this state much longer, she would be morally obligated to throw herself into the trash.
Soap. She needed soap, and already she could identify several different cleaning agents at the sink's side. Such variety! Clearly, this was no ordinary kitchen. Some of the soaps were almost lavish! Forget the dishes. They would disinfect a dirty rat like her and double as excellent shampoos and conditioners for fur, if combined to the right proportions.
She leaped onto the edge of the sink and pulled herself to the top before grabbing the stopper and heading back down to plug the drain. After returning to the tabletop, she turned on the water, climbed a few soap bottles, popped them open, and poured them into the filling sink with labourious effort but perfect precision. Upon attaining the right combination of soaps and water, she dove into the basin, marinated a little and rinsed to her heart's content.
After her bubble bath, she sprang out of the basin, gave a quick shake and got to work. Once she somehow got a pot onto a burner (easier said than done), she began the long process of filling it with water cup by cup. However, she found creative ways to make the job much quicker and easier than it could have been. After about ten minutes, the pot was full and she switched on the stove until it simmered. Standing above it on an overlooking shelf, she reached into her crossbody bag and pulled out a transparent orb filled with multi-coloured liquid. Once she dropped it into the pot, she waited, but absolutely nothing happened.
"Huh," she commented, "I guess I had the wrong-"
Suddenly, a blast of colourful fumes erupted from the pot, causing her to jump back and laugh with delight.
"Yeah! Now we're talking!" she cheered.
Her ears twitched in response to a sound. What was that? A gasp? Her eyes darted about to ascertain the source of the sound, but there was nothing there. She began to second guess her hearing, but at the back of her mind, there was still that scent of another rat. However, it was much less musty than that of any other rat she'd smelled. That rat couldn't still be in the room, right? His scent was simply too … mild!
Shaking the concerns from her head, she scurried across the shelf, stopping when she caught sight of her reflection in a piece of silverware.
"Oh, hello!" she said to her reflection. "I haven't seen you under that filthy fluff for days! Still rockin' that weird red fur, I see! That's … well, I can't say it's 'great', so I'm just gonna say 'weird', because it is what it is. Anyhoo, after tonight, I'll actually have a life and I won't need to keep talking to you as if I'm suffering from multi-personality disorder! Super, right?"
Much to her shock, her reflection answered her.
"You've been giving me that optimistic nonsense for months!" the mirror image chastised. "You'd better get the formula right this time, otherwise you're gonna keep crawling back to me for company! Get a grip! You. Are. Talking. To. Your. Reflection! To make matters worse, your reflection's talking back! Your desperation is destroying your sanity! Get the formula right and get a life! I don't want to have to say this again!"
With that, her reflection stomped out of sight, leaving her dazed and confused.
"Okaaaay," the rat told herself. "Best case scenario: I'm not as immune to my hallucinogenic chemical concoctions as I thought. Too much got into my system and it's making me see things. Worst case scenario-"
"YOU'RE LOSING YOUR MIND!" her reflection interrupted as it darted back onto the silverware, finishing her sentence. "GO! Get those night howlers before this becomes a regular thing! GO! GO! GO!"
"OKAY! OKAY, I'M GOING!" the rat shouted back in panic.
She scampered across the shelf en route to the night howlers conveniently located at the far side.
"Hey," called an unfamiliar, masculine voice.
She froze. "Oh, no. Now my reflection's forsaking its gender!"
"I'm pretty sure it's not your reflection," the voice responded.
Slowly, tentatively, she turned to see a lean, blue rat about a yard behind her.
Remy was momentarily taken off guard by her bright, olive eyes. His powerful nose had long since detected her fragrance, but at this distance it was absolutely enrapturing.
"I … uh …" he faltered. "How …? How did you do that?"
"Do … what?" she asked hesitantly.
"Climb out of a drain, wash the grime off your fur and still smell the way you do?" he asked. "And yes, I have been watching you since you first crawled out of the sink."
"Oh," she responded, slightly embarrassed. "It's a perfume I made."
"But why didn't it get washed off?" he persisted.
"It can't get washed off because it's not on my fur. It's inside of me," she explained. "I call it Perma Perfume. It's a combination of natural chemicals I ingested, which alters my biochemistry so that my body emanates the fragrance … if that makes any sense."
"You bet that makes sense, that's amazing!" he exclaimed.
She blinked in surprise and perked up somewhat, scarcely believing that he understood her slightly complicated explanation, and was amazed, to top it off!
"By the way, I'm Remy," he introduced. "When you stood over that pot, were you cooking?"
"Ehmm … something like that," she answered with a half-smile.
His interest was piqued. Standing before him was another rat who seemed to share his passion, or at least something similar to his passion, whatever it was. Then he remembered that she was a trespasser and decided inquire about her intentions.
"Anyway, what are doing here?" he asked. "After hours? In a staff-only area?"
She folded her arms defensively. "I could ask you the same thing."
"I work here," Remy explained. "And sometimes I stay overnight when I get too involved in my work, heh. So, yeah, being the head chef and co-owner of La Ratatouille, I can practically live in the kitchen without anyone asking questions."
Confusion creased her countenance. "Rats don't own restaurants."
"Didn't you see the sign outside?" Remy asked. "You know, with the rat with a toque on his head and a spoon on his shoulder? Albeit it's just a silhouette cutout, but that's supposed to be me."
Her jaw dropped in shock and she gushed. "I-thought-that-was-just-the-mascot! You-really-own-this-place? And-did-you-create-all-those-phenomenal-meals-I-can-identify-even-now? That's so … inspirational!"
He smiled, shrugged and bobbed his head from side to side the way he sometimes did when sheepish about being praised.
"Hey, by the way what happened to your fur?" he asked. "It's, what, French raspberry, right? Is that its natural colour?"
She stiffened and squinted self-consciously. "No. No, I don't think it is."
"Don't be like that, it looks really good!" he quickly declared. "I mean, the way it goes with your sparkling eyes, it-"
He stopped himself. Sparkling?! Did he actually let a word like that slip out of his mouth?! There was an awkward pause. All the while, she smiled shyly.
"So …" Remy continued. "If I may follow up, what brings a mouse like you to my restaurant?"
Remy caught a slight sigh escaping from her lungs as her ears hung in subtle annoyance and resignation. Those expressions were so nuanced that he could have missed or second-guessed them. His brain worked on overdrive. What had he said to upset her? He gave her a rapid once-over, and his mind picked up features previously unnoticed. It clicked.
"You're a rat?" he asked in surprise.
She smiled. Bingo.
"Yup – Rattus norvegicus," she confirmed, stating their scientific name.
"My apologies!" he exclaimed. "It's just that you're, um …"
"Puny? Minuscule? Vertically challenged?" she suggested with a weak smirk. "Right. I get that a lot. For starters, I'm pretty sure I'm a runt. I'm also not a fan of garbage and I'm not particularly fond of stealing food, so there aren't that many options. Thus, I'm a bit on the gaunt side."
"I wouldn't say you're 'gaunt'," Remy argued. "I mean, I can't see your ribs, so you're good."
She examined herself and frowned. "Yeah. I guess there's that."
Remy almost slapped himself. In retrospect, that was not his idea of the ideal thing to say. He quickly tried to outrun the moment ... perhaps a little too quickly.
"Anyway,-if-you're-hungry,-I-can-whip-you-up-a-good-meal," Remy offered hastily.
She squinted in scrutiny. "Why would you do that?"
Let's see … He couldn't exactly say "Because I think you may be my soulmate and I'm crushing on you so hard right now," so he decided to go with something a little more tactful.
"Because you seem pretty decent and you gotta eat," he explained. "So, is there anything you feel like munching on in particular?"
She gazed about the kitchen like a kid in a candy store, scarcely believing her luck. Then she shook her head as she remembered why she was there.
"How about some Midnicampum holicithias!" she requested.
Remy cocked his head. "Wait, you're talking about 'night howlers'? How did you even know there were night howlers in the restaurant?"
"I can smell them from, like, over half a block away," she explained. "I guess some of the produce breached containment when transferred from vehicle to restaurant. I didn't see any, so I assume it was cleaned up, but it must have bruised when it hit the ground, leaving the residue I was able to detect."
Remy stared. She was right, but that had happened about a day ago. She could identify his recent recipes and track night howlers across such distance and time? Remy was impressed. Last he checked, he was the only rodent around with a nose that sensitive, but seriously, half a block? On second thought, he wasn't even sure if he could pull that off. A sense of smell like that teetered on the preternatural!
"Okay, so you'd like something with night howler in it," he recapped. "That's doable, although it'll take me about half an hour to boil out the toxins."
"It's okay," she quickly declared. "I'd like it just as it is."
Remy furrowed his brow in concern. "Um, sorry. I don't think you wanna eat that. Night howlers are psychotropic, in this case meaning they can turn you into a savage, slavering, senseless beast. I had to go through a lot of health certificates just to get them into this country, much less serve them at a restaurant. I even gave an oath that I would never serve them to anyone without the proper preparation. Humans can't even touch them without a license. I mean, I'm not a human, but that's how serious it is."
She made big, puppy dog eyes. "Pleeeeease?"
Since he liked her eyes (for some reason beyond her imagination hampered by low self-esteem), she figured that maybe he would cave if she made good use of those eyes. Clearly it was working, until he hardened with decisive finality.
"No," Remy declared. "I might as well be feeding you plutonium."
"C'mon!" she insisted. "I'm not gonna eat it, I promise!"
"No means no," Remy stated firmly.
Her ears dropped in disappointment. "Oh … well, that's okay."
Remy softened as he tried to explain. "It's just not ethical. I'm really sorry."
"I'm really sorry too," she apologised.
His eyes darted about in puzzlement. "Really sorry for what?"
With incredible speed and practised precision, she reached into her crossbody bag, snatched out a little black orb and tossed it at him. He instinctively dove off the shelf and the orb landed where he stood, swelling up into a massive, sticky ball about a foot wide.
"What was that?!" demanded a panicked Remy from the floor.
"I call it a Blackberry," she explained. "It's based on the formula for the spheres Syndrome used to trap Mr. Incredible on Nomanisan Island. It's sticky but harmless. Sorry! Hold still!"
She tossed down another sphere and he rolled out of the way. It burst into a billowing bloom of blue smoke that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"What was THAT!?" he screamed.
"Blueberry," she stated. "It's basically knockout gas, as harmless as the last berry. Sorry! Please, just hold still!"
She tossed another orb and Remy darted off to dodge it just as he had the others. However, this sphere exploded in a concussive blast of red mist that threw him across the floor. He scrambled to his feet and shook his head, dazed from the impact.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" shrieked Remy.
"Oops!" she began. "That one? That one could have hurt you. It was supposed to be another Blueberry, but I accidentally grabbed an explosive Raspberry instead. My bad!"
"STOP! STOP! Why are you THROWING THINGS AT ME?!" Remy demanded.
She shrunk back guiltily. "I really don't want to, but I need a night howler. Just a pinch, and … and I can't let you stop me!"
He shot her a glare, then scurried away, angrily muttering to himself: "I finally meet a *mumble mumble* and it turns out she's completely *mumble mumble*."
Her heart sank as she watched him slip out into the dining area, but at least he was out of her hair, and he would forgive her once she had finished her mission, right? … Right …?
She sighed and turned to head for the night howlers, when …
*WHAM!*
The dining room door was knocked open and there was Remy, riding the biggest lobster she had ever seen.
"Say hello to my little friend!" he shouted, holding the creature's antennae like reins.
Thanks for reading!
As a digital artist, I've created an illustration to represent this story. The cover art is just a clip of it. Check it out on YouTube, under: Incredibles Vs Big Hero 6 | Timelapse Painting | from Fanfic "Ratatouille: The Doom Perfume". I've also started experimenting, turning the story into an audio fanfic where I challenge myself to voice act all the characters. You can find it on the same YouTube channel. It's not perfect, but I hope you enjoy it :).
What do you think so far?
