Speaking with some fellow authors who greatly inspire me, and reading your uplifting reviews, I've decided to continue my writing. I will begin from the start of the film, and eventually intertwine all my work into a grand tale of tragedy and happiness. The purpose of these stories is not to simply retell the movie, but add an intimate understanding of the reasoning, actions and emotions of the characters. I used the film to my advantage here, pausing it nearly every scene, looking to the characters for inspirations, their facial expressions for how they felt. If you do place close attention, you will note the expressions through out the movie tell a story of there own: I plan to record it. It'll take some time, so bear with me.
This is a prologue-type story, which I feel really sets up the characters for my series. It delves a bit into the movie, but it's based mostly on my own perception of what happened before. This takes place about 3 hours before Tabitha's family leaves for holiday. So, without further adue...
Oh wait, the sue-thing. yea I don't own these characters/plot/anything, so keep your Legal Eagles to yourself. For the rest, please sit back and enjoy...
Flushed Away: Meet Roddy and Rita
Roderick St. James parried the next blow easily. His assailant twirled with his blade, looking for an opening in Roddy's defenses. Roddy held out his rapier with confidence, deflecting every attack with a mere flick of the wrist. Growing confident, he began to perform a series of lunges. The attacker backed off, moving his bod rhythmically to dodge the strikes. Then, the figure saw its opening. Roddy felt its sword puncture his lower abdomen. He yelped out in shock, clutching the open gash.
"Loosing your guard, monsieur?" The dark figure cackled madly, as it bounded away with a back flip, landing a short distance onto a solid surface. It stood high, cloaked in black, dark clouds drifted around it, obscuring its true shape. Raising its sword high about his head in a defiant manner, Roddy watched as its lips parted; A sinister grin spread across it, the white teeth glowing in the gloom. Its eyes shined a dark, musky yellow.
"I'm just getting…warmed up!" Roddy chattered through his teeth. He was already starting to feel cold. He looked down at his hands to see them covered in his own blood. Not good. His eyes began to loose focus, but something inside him spurred him forward.
"Roddy… Roddy, help me!" cried a feminine voice. Roddy peered upwards. Towering above him, tied to a long metallic pipe that lie horizontally, a figure shone. Literally. It glowed as if it was made of light, in the shape of a rat; its essence the sun. She hung low, a rope which coiled around her like a venomous snake.
"I'm coming, my fair lady!" Roddy roared. Raising his sword, he charged toward the French speaking figure. It had bounded all the way to where the rat-lady was hanging from.
Roddy approached where the damsel dangled. As he gazed up, his pupils had to refocus; she was glowing brighter than ever. He could not make out who she was however. The only feature beyond the glow was two sparkling emerald eyes. Above him, foot on the rope which hung the prisoner, a new voice rang out:
"You will not be a hero today, RAT. Today shall be, MY DAY!"
Roddy shot a glance far to the left; another demon-like shape stood high atop a soaring pillar. This new thing was massive, covered in dark lumps; a ball standing on two twigs for feet it seemed. Wearing a crown, as well as being adorned with a cape and scepter, it barked out orders to the figure with the French accent, words Roddy could not understand.
Roddy felt the ground begin to sink. The black earth turned to liquid, and his feet sunk into the creeping fluid. Then, as if commanded by the clouded figure, the ground froze; Roddy was trapped, sunk to his ankles in the tar-like fluid. He began rampantly slashing at the ground beneath him, hoping to cut through.
After a moment, Roddy felt a sudden wind. His brown hair began to wave wildly in the growing torrent. Having no idea what was happening, he could only watch in horror as a wall of water approached him. It loomed over him, at least three hundred times his size, and was approaching with rapid speed.
The king-like shape now yelled another series of commands.
"And now, I must bid thee tout à l'heur monsieur!" The other snarled triumphantly. It brought it's sword to the rope from which the lady hung. With a quick flick, the line was severed, and the golden figure began to plunge downwards, toward where Roddy was trapped. The small springy demon and its master walked across the pipe and disappeared.
Oh, bother…
A shrill scream was all that Roddy heard before the wall of water crushed him, sweeping him into the unknown…
"AHH!"
Roddy bolted upwards, suddenly alert of his surroundings. A soft beep of an alarm clock sounded throughout the otherwise silent room of his owner, which read 6:00am. He gasped for air, icy sweat lined his forehead. Easy Rodders…it was just a dream.
He rubbed his eyes softly and relaxed a bit. Still, something seemed wrong. What in the world was that? Two weirdoes and some girl… It wasn't often Roddy had nightmares; at least as far as he could remember. Recently however, he'd been having the same one, over and over.
Boy, I really need to stop watching all those war movies with Sarge. It's starting to get to my head, I think. Saving Private Dylan was more than I could handle…
The door to his owner's room slowly creaked open. Roddy quickly curled up and pretended to be asleep.
"Tabitha?" Her mother went to her daughters' bed. "Tabitha, darling. Its time to wake. Our plane departs in a few hours." Her mother crooned sweetly into her ear.
Aha! There leaving today! A grin sprang to Roddy's face. I'll have the house all to myself…
Roddy St. James, as he was called by, well, himself, lived in a luxurious house in Kensington District, London. He was the only pet in the household, so he couldn't say he had any roommates, besides his kind owner, Tabitha. But he couldn't talk to her or make contact. So, technically he lived alone; but Roddy didn't think so. Tabitha's collection of dolls proved to be excellent company for him.
Yep, life was easy, life was simple. Life was truly great…or so he thought.
It wasn't every day Roddy was left with the penthouse; Tabitha had school most of the time, but he was confined to her room, and even then it was risky. What if her mother had come in, finding a rat parading about with a couple of dolls? I don't think my poor ears could stand THAT scream…Still, he had appreciated his owner. She'd bought him many outfits in his size, such as his robe. For Christmas, he'd even received his own car! I'm still getting the hang of that one though…Roddy had remembered his unfortunate collision with the coffee table; resulting in multiple broken vases.
Tabitha was yawning loudly, pulling herself out of bed. She sat for a moment, stretched, and headed out of the room.
It'll be a while until they leave…What can I…I mean, we, possibly do today? Pondered Roddy, thinking about his collection of 'friends and family' 'living' down in Tabitha's dollhouse. Of course, he didn't like to think of them as just dolls. I prefer motor-and-movement-skill deficient. Makes much more sense.
In reality, Roddy had really known nothing else; he could not recall his years of youth, nor anyone he might of known. Not his father, mother, or siblings. No friends, visitors; just his owner. All he knew was that he was living large and wasn't complaining.
Who could blame him for befriending and interacting with inanimate objects? He had known nothing better his entire life.
He pulled out a sketchpad from underneath his bed, and began etching down a list of ideas for the day. How about bookshelf climbing? Hmmm... I'm not sure if I would trust Sarge so soon after last time…Roddy had ended up falling five bookshelves lengths, luckily onto the couch, resulting in some minor injuries (a bruised tail, and a clipped toenail.) Lava jumping? Roddy massaged his rump as he thought of that. He didn't quite make the leap over the kitchen-top stove that time either. Can't go wrong with golfing though, he thought happily, and jotted it down.
As he furiously scribbled onto the pad, he though of the dream again; the rat-woman figure with jade eyes. Roddy thought deeply, recalling his feelings. The joy that he felt when he was actually needed by someone, someone relying on him.
Will I ever know that joy in the real world? The question here being, do I want to?
He stopped momentarily. Of course not, I have everything I need, right here. Luxury, food, a warm bed, and entertainment. What more could a chap want in life? He put off the thought, and added 'Movie' to the list.
Today is going to be the best day ever!
Meanwhile, deep underneath the streets of London, below the hubbub of traffic and footsteps of the humans, lied an network of caverns. However, they were not uninhabited. Rats roamed these sewers, constructing and tirelessly working like their human counterparts above them. Known as the Rats of the Underground, a great society was founded beneath London. Cities stretched for miles upon miles built by rat kind, from every kind of material imaginable. A quote would suffice to explain their mindset: One Man's trash is another Rat's treasure. With this in mind, there was no limit to what could be made.
However, one particular Rat in the sewer worked a lot harder than most. Her name is Rita Malone, and her heroic destiny was about to unfold. Born into a poor family, she became a 'scavenger', scouring the drains for valuable goods to sell or trade.
There was something unique about her, though. She was not motivated to accrue wealth and riches for herself; but for her clan. She worked tirelessly day and often nights, on her faithful old boat, The Jammy Dodger, alongside her father. It had been this way since the family had begun to grow.
The Malone family was in constant need of money. With ever new addition to their family, a new demand was set at the household. Mouths had to be filled with food, beds covered in sheets, rooms to be built. Such was the life of a Rat.
Day in and day out, she and her father pulled out of their garage, and set out to do a days work. It was only Rita and him; her siblings had been too young or were still too childish to work the drains. But what could she say? It was responsibility. She couldn't say she loved it, but at the end of the day, it was worth it. Food on the table, sheets on the beds, rooms built. Next day? Rinse, or in her case shower, and repeat.
However, recently there had been an accident, followed quickly by a series of unfortunate events. Her father, in an attempt to seize a valuable jewel, had severely hurt himself in the process. Putting himself out of commission, Rita was the only one old and able enough to provide for the family. Later, the prized possession Mr. Malone had acquired was stolen by non other than the crime lord of Ratropolis: the Toad. Rita, infuriated by the toll that cursed gem had taken on her family, seized it back.
This cost her greatly. The Toad and his men were constantly on the look out for her. She could not return to her house as often anymore, in fear that she would lead the enemy to her most prized possession of all: her family. She took extended scavenging trips away from home, or so she told her mother that, to keep her calm and unaware of the predicament she was in. It was still partially true, though.
Things were looking up a bit; the pace of the Toad's hunt had slowed to a crawl, and Rita had found many new valuable items of salvage. A working cell phone was one her many new gadgets she'd acquired; it would fetch a high price on market.
And so, began another seemingly innocent day in the London Underground. On the outskirts of town, deep in a remote channel, a boat was anchored outside of a drain pipe.
On board, lie the new, noble captain of the Jammy Dodger; fearless and bold nothing would stand between her and glorious conquest… Unfortunately, at the moment she was face down drooling profusely on her pillow.
She was mumbling words; her voice muffled by the small lake of saliva and soaked cloth. Abruptly, the silence of the sewers was broken as she bolted up from her bed, nearly screaming. She panted heavily, awaking from a terrible nightmare.
What was that all about? Rita thought to herself.She had just had the weirdest dream…I was tied up so high; watching somebody fight…then he got hurt... I called him something…what was his name? She could not remember for the life of her what she had cried out. Then someone cut me loose, and I just fell…right into a huge wave of water…but who was that guy with the sword?
Rita wasn't one to be superstitious, but this was just plain odd. She didn't have nightmares that often. At least, not since... She frowned slightly when she thought of her father's accident. She instinctively felt for the Ruby she'd recovered, calming herself as she did so. Her brooding was interrupted however, by the sound of scraping metal emitting out of the nearby drain.
LOOT!
She automatically jolted into wakefulness; these sorts of skills were a necessity for her job. She lunged for the controls, jumped the boat into high gear, and steered it closer to the pipe. The sounds were louder now, and the water began to ripple slightly. The cavern began to reverberate; little chucks of rock fell from the roof. Wow, it's a big one today.
Every week, in the streets of South hall District in London, a large accumulation of junk would be washed out when the street-sweeper would pass by a large open drain; at the end of which was Rita, armed with a trusty hook, sitting poised to strike at the numerous artifacts that were slowly creeping down. The Dodger idled, slowly rising and falling with the rolling waves.
There! Alright Jammy, get ready!
The first bits of treasure began to rain down out of the pipe. However, Rita's eyes were attuned to only find what looked valuable. For example, her eyes were trained to phase out a broken spoon or a rusty nail, and be drawn to a golden sparkle in the mess of metal.
What was that?!
Rita spotted something, a silver glint in the cascade of gunk falling from the pipe. She extended the hook, and slid it into a rung of the silver item. She began to haul it in; slowly but surely it emerged out of the grimy green stream. Once in range, she wrapped her hands around it and tugged in.
Once it was on board, she cleaned off the grunge off it. Rita held up what appeared to be a solid silver chain. Yes! Totally sweet, I knew I'd find something out here.
Silver was good, but gold was better; which is precisely what she saw when she looked back toward the floating debris. Rita dropped the chain onto the deck, along with her jaw.
Floating on a milk carton was a golden pocket watch. Solid 24 karat; must acquire. She was a machine of item-forage. It was a little farther out than she hoped; she couldn't maneuver the boat any closer. Adding an extension rod to the hook, Rita reached out to seize it, latching onto a ring at the top. With the utmost care, she pulled slowly on the watch. Dang, it's heavy! Must be filled with dirt or something…Its okay, dad and I will clean it out at home and make it good as new!
Still latched to it, she drew in the hook hard, and the watch slipped off the carton into the water. Now it was just a simple matter of pulling it in. Or at least, it would have been if the watch didn't weigh a cow's worth. More like, Toads worth. She grinned.
Rita found herself struggling. Her footing was slipping; she was gradually being pulled towards the side of the boat by the weight of the watch, not to mention the hook was beginning to bend as it sank deeper into the green pool.
"Urrgh!" She yanked harder. Comon', I need this! Everyone's counting on ME! Argh!
The hook could not hold any more stress. Rita gave one last heave, all she had in her.
SNAP!
The hook broke in two at the elbow, and Rita was thrown backwards onto the deck.
"No!" She yelped in sorrow. She clambered up to her feet and ran back to the side, only to catch the final glimpse of the torn hook, still clutching the watch, sinking into the abyss. NO!
Rita fell back, nearly in tears. How could this happen? She had it right then, she could almost reach out and grab it! Her family was counting on her, that watch would have fetched such a pretty penny, if not multiple pounds. But she wasn't strong enough to pull it in alone…alone...
Rita crossed her legs and gazed down at her boots, head hung. If dad was here…if only dad was here…or someone…anyone…I'm just so alone…She could not help but feel the icy void tug at her essence. A single, crystalline tear rolled down her cheek, which she promptly wiped away.
Now is not the time to be crying you big lummox! Get a hold of yourself!
If there was one Rita Malone despised more than the Toad, it was showing weakness. Rita was a hardworking, 'live-for-the-moment' London girl. Opinionated, and never afraid to take a risk, she stood stronger than most rats in the London underground. But unbeknownst to the world, underneath that tough girl attitude and cheer, there were feelings; hard to believe at first glance. But the last thing she could afford during times like these was expose her emotions.
She slowly rose to her feet, looking at the bubbling mess of salvage that lie before her. Nothing of much value remained. Rita gave out long sigh…life had become much harder, indeed. She thought of her father again...
"You heard what they said Jammy, he might not even be able of physical work again…" she mumbled sadly.
She pet the wheel of the boat lovingly. She found consolation in it, somehow. Reminds me of dad, it does. She laughed, wondering what others would think of her talking to inanimate objects. People'd think I was loony or something…
And if there was one thing Rita Malone was also good at, it was masking those feelings.
She threw the Dodger in reverse and backed out of the drain reservoir. Pulling forward, she rounded the corner and headed for Ratropolis's trade district; Might as well put that chain on the market for now. It would still be a few days until she'd return home, however. She had a few more salvage stops planned ahead.
Whatever, it'll be okay. This chain will be fine for today's haul, though. Father will be so pleased! Not to mention some of this other stuff I fished up, it'll be great for the family. Rita smiled, and raised her head. Yea…family. We're not so alone after all, are we Jammy? The morning sun shone brilliantly through a grate above. The singing of birds could be heard over the low murmur of the engine.
Yea…things are going up from here on out. Something big is coming; I can feel it!
As cliché as it sounds, little did she know how right she was.
This was a little delayed in itself, as I've been working on Flushed Away 2: A project with my dad fixing broken sewer pipes no part in thanks to people who will remain unnamed, coughsistercough, flushing massive quantities of toilet paper down the drain. (My attempt at some giggle-inducing humor, lets see you try!). Piled on with my jobs, and the looming SAT's (now finished, thank you God.) have set me back a bit. I'm going to work my hardest in continuing these tales. So, once again, thanks for reading and don't forget to leave me your words of wisdom!