This is actually a one-shot I put on my deviantart a couple of years back.
It's MetalCommedia if you want to check it out through there and I've even added a few doodles of my OC to those who are curious about what she looks like. This one-shot is written in a diary-style First Person pov.
I remember it was during the summer of 90' when it happened. It was a cold, dreary day and rather wet too. Too wet and muddy for rodents to be up and about in the mad, appalling streets of London but I didn't have the luxury of a warm home, comfy bed and food on the table at me beck and call.
Not anymore.
It seems like another lifetime ago and rather the memories of an old friend than me own. However I can't think about the past, find it hurts too much when I do; I have to keep to the present and in proper spirits. I have to make a living somehow and get food in me belly and keep the clothes on me back clean.
I already pocketed crumbles of human-eaten food in the market place at the risk of getting stepped on or outright killed by humans four days ago. Almost got eaten by dogs when I swiped some meat from their pans a fortnight ago and nearly killed by cats when I decided to go into human homes to swipe some fish bits a month back. Only take such risks when the pocketing is low and can't go on another day starving. Most I can fast for is five days and after that, me mind goes yampy and I tend to blotch up cause of an empty stomach and I can't afford to be caught by the constables.
I left out of the shoe that was in one of the alleys of South Bank after dawn and made me way to do some early mornin' pocketing before I set off to try and find work in the business district.
I always wear mens' wear, keep all me hair in me hat, and make me fur a little roughed up to try and get men's jobs that were more high payin' than a ladies'. It's been done before, masquerading as a man to get better work; all it takes is knowing a man's tongue, keepin' yourself right and strong, and always keep your look as masculine as possible without havin' it lookin' fake. Most I can do is grow out me sideburns before I can get a moustache and wear my trusty binder I brought with me to London.
I was downright sick of living in a shoe and scavengin' like an animal everyday to see the next day. I didn't know how many more months I can take living in London like this before the strays and rat catchers eventually get me.
I needed an honest job with real lodgings that will accept a rat.
But that morning, I was starving for anything to eat and so I went to get breakfast at the marketplace in Blackfriars that was closer to my hunting site before I started my day of job hunting.
I remember that rugged mouse that was also scavenging for food with his friends in the human marketplace that morning but what I found peeking out of his jacket pocket turned my hunger into something less edible.
A real gold trinket with elaborate engraving and a thick chain was almost begging to be taken. When I looked at it closely when he and his mates wasn't looking my way or scavenging, I found a jewel that was at the back of the trinket. A real ruby necklace! It looked too fancy and of quality to belong to a meager mouse like him, he had to have pocketed it in the business district where the rich rodents were. I could buy a moustache, good menswear, a few washings, and breakfast every morning with that thing! I will finally get to live like a right and proper rodent for the first time in several months!
Before reason could come, I was already on the prowl for the necklace. I intentionally bumped into him while he was done scavenging and swiped it in me pocket deep and good before he could tell what happened. All this happened in just one fast go with no stop in movements as I uttered a quick apology and bolted out like lightning,
"Watch where ya goin', ya lil' wanker!"
It would be too late when I didn't account for his mates to be watching him while I got it.
"Oi, Long John! That street rat just cly faked the boss's ruby!"
"Get 'im, ya louses or we'll be breakfast for the boss's cat!"
At this, I hurriedly took off my shoes and ran on all fours to quickly maneuver out of the marketplace and into the busy sidewalk where I heard a few women screaming about pests, rats, mice, and whatnot. To humans, it didn't much matter if you were a rat or mouse, you were still a filthy pest in their eyes. I remember in my hurry the sounds of horses coming into the street as I jumped from the sidewalk to the dirty street where the horses nawin' and jumped as I got out of their way and avoided the carriages and safely got the other side the street and looked back to see my pursuers far from me and cursing me as they neared the street where I left. I continued on to one of the alleys until I saw a human coachman at the end of it comment about going to the inner city district to a couple of men as they boarded.
I saw that as my ticket out of Blackfriar at the moment and hurried into the coach where the rodents occupied underneath the carriage. Afterward when carriage began to move away, I breathed a sigh of relief as I took this chance to get my bearings, put me shoes back on, and make meself presentable as I can to go to the district.
It was then that I decided to observe and check out my prize of the day.
The necklace was engraved in the back with little lines swirling to and fro that framed the letter R that was in the center of the gold plate.
I thought at the time that, "Well, whoever Mr. R is, the old chap will just have to make a new replica. This little thing will get me started on me new life in London as soon as I can get someone to buy it for a lot of pounds. Maybe even buy a boat to America and be done with it."
That was my plan then but I would have no idea how much more suffering I would endure over the years just because of that blasted necklace. If I would have knew more about how the streets worked back then and thought more careful of the territories that are marked by the underworld's most dangerous criminals, I would have just turned around and left that rugged mouse alone.
I found myself instead of hunting for jobs like I said I was, I found myself trying to find buyers for the necklace all day. I found myself in odd shops, jewelry stores, and gold shops that would be interested in purchasing the necklace but each and every time, I got turned down and left being outright booted out the door. I was baffled and confused, I meself knew what real gold was like and knew the difference between fake and real gems. This necklace was of high quality.
Why were the merchants looking at me like I was the grim reaper?
Was it possible that they knew who this thing belonged to? It had to be and whoever he was, the old chap must be powerful to strike fear in these hardened old rodents I tried to make an exchange with.
It was getting dark and I was all but tired out from all the running I did today but I wanted to make one last try to get this thing offa my hands before I went back to South Bank to rest in my shoe to try again tomorrow in Westminster.
I saw in my sights a store that seemed well-hidden from the rest of the shop market. I made my way inside and requested for the shopkeeper's presence. It only took a moment to get in touch with the rather young shopkeeper that I've learned through our brief conversation that he just opened this store up a week ago. Of course, he questioned the R on the necklace but tried to convince him to just simply take the engraving off by going to a jewelry shop I know of in Westminster so he'll be able to actually sell it. For some reason, the jewelry shops in Blackfriar won't touch this thing with a twig.
After a few moments negotiating with the man, he finally agreed to purchase the thing! I can't believe I made 10 pounds! Finally, I'm no longer homeless! He gave me a small bag containing the money and I bid farewell to him as I made my way out of the store with a promise to bring more business to his new shop. Even though my fortunes have finally turned good, what still bothered me was who Mr. R was. And what is he to make all of Blackfriar fear his initial? Well, I shouldn't let such a thing bother me since it's not my problem anymore. What I need now is proper lodgings.
Though I was rather deep in me thoughts, I managed to take a passerby carriage back to South Bank; after it stopped in a neighborhood I knew, I proceeded to walk to see a doss-house I found a few weeks back about finding a room and bed for tonight. A sound in the air made me snapped out of my thoughts and look to the night sky, I saw nothing but the usual human houses with their chimneys filling the sky with soot and smoke and the like along with the night clouds and occasional twinkle of stars. Even though I can't see what made the sound, I still got a bad feeling deep in me bones. Then I heard other sounds, footsteps; sounds like about at least a group of mice.
I walked in an even pace and casually took a detour of my route all the while keeping my eyes and ears open and then I heard the same footsteps.
I'm being followed.
I took a quick glance at my tailers and then I recognize one of them from this morning. I then proceed to give chase again until something heavy from the air slammed against me back real bad to make me fall on my chest and knock the wind out of me. Then I heard a hoarse cackle coming from my ambusher,
"Hehehahah! Not so fast, street rat. You're not gettin' away this time." Then I heard more laughter as the mice began to get closer. One of them moved closer with a cloth that stunk of chloroform, he was a short, stocky mouse that had a mighty mean grin on his ugly mug.
"You lil' wankin' rat is gonna pay for what you done to the boss's trinket. We'd normally kill pick-pockets like you on the spot but this trinket was extra special to the boss and it got us in deep trouble, so to save our hides from his cat, we're gonna give you to the boss to deal with to make up for this blotched day."
I heard the same cackling, hoarse laugh of the wanker that's sittin' on me back. Then all of a sudden, me snout was forced against the chloroform cloth.
"Nightie Night, kid!"
All I could think to myself before I blacked out from the damned thing was one word,
'Bollocks!'
I remember somebody kicked me awake in the stomach and me giving a few chose words of me own to the wanker before I heard a low snickering in the background that made everyone go silent.
"So…this is the thief that gave you trouble this morning? How very odd that he seems to be the tallest and biggest among you."
"Well…he's a rat, professor."
"I'm not blind; any simpleton can see that."
It was then I decided to get a good look at the boss of this gang and I got taken aback from what I saw. This boss was a rat, like me, and a right huge one. Despite his gentlemen dress and refined manners, he had an obvious edge to him that I expected to see in a criminal gang leader. He was big in muscle and bone rather than in fat and that meant big trouble for me if I was made to fight him. I maybe stronger than most mice but I'm no strongman. I'd die against someone like him.
"Fidget, a job well-done in helping my ineffective group of thieves track down this street rat as well as my necklace."
"No problem, boss."
"Now as for you all, I think a reward is due for bringing our little trouble-maker in." As I heard him say that, I saw him ring a little bell and in a moment later, I heard small footsteps coming this way. I heard one of the mice talk about this morning about being fed to a cat and it looks like he wasn't up his jump on that on.
This little thing was rather plump for a kitten and poorly groomed save for the bow on the top of her head. This cat was clearly a stray that was raised to eat rodents by the rat boss. At the time, I thought this bloke was mad to try and train a cat to eat rodents like himself.
"You're too kind, Professor, sir. Just seeing the pendant being able to be returned to you is enough reward for us."
Even though it was quite mad of me to think it, I was angry that of all the predators to die by, it had to be the animal I most disliked; hawks and dogs are more my preference. Even though it was grim, all rodents were either going to die by three things eventually: humans, Mother Nature, and predator species, like cats and dogs. It was inevitable, really; it's the raw truth that the most sensitive doesn't want to acknowledge or come to terms with. But for what's happened in my life, death seemed right next door and all you can do is hope for the best that it's a decent one.
But now I'm just trailing off, what I felt when the cat came was, of course, fear and a feeling of being damned. I felt I had but a short moment to make my peace with the Lord above and be prepared to face damnation for all the sins I've committed.
"Oh, I insist, Reginald. It's what you all deserve. Oh, Felicia, my little cherub, you're going to get a big feast tonight." He said as he walked over to pet the kitten behind her ear as she purred in joy rubbing against him. I closed my eyes at that moment and prayed that my death would be swift. I refuse to let the last thing I see on this Earth be a kitten eating me alive.
"Not one, but three mice. Bon Appétit, my precious." I heard him say as I felt something big running right past me and after that, all I heard was agonized, high-pitched screams, ripping of flesh, feeling blood spatters hit me, and the smell of death that invaded the air. It was the sounds and smells that, even to this day; I won't ever fully adjust to.
It felt like it would never end until I eventually heard nothing but the kitten eating, the murmurs and whimpering of the audience behind me. Then footsteps made their way towards me and the leader made a loud announcement,
"Let this be a very important lesson to the rest of you and the top rule of working for me as of tonight. If you can let yourself be pick-pocketed so easily as well as make the slightest error in your performance, then your role in my eyes is to be Felicia's nutrition for her growing body. I refuse to allow mistakes or blunders of any kind in any future operations. Do I make myself perfectly clear, gentlemen?"
I heard a lot of shouting and yelling of "Yes, Sir" that moment and then I heard him say, "Open your eyes and get up, boy, I need you to see what happens when you so dare to cross me."
I clumsily got up and tried to stand with as much dignity I can muster as I just took a quick glance at the bloody mess at my right and then looked back to the aged rat, called Professor by his men. I felt like such right mess already and I felt dizzy and sick at that. I didn't want to see the full detail; I won't be able to take such a sight. Unfortunately, the professor felt the opposite and I saw him make a right mean and sadistic grin to me,
"I'm afraid you misunderstood me. I said to SEE, not peep." He outright turned me around using his great strength for good measure and forced me to lay eyes on all of the horrid mess that the kitten made in her attack.
Even thinking about that memory today makes me a bit sick to my stomach so as to spare the gruesome details, it was very bloody, smelly, and, at the lightest of that memory, there were bones that still had some bit of flesh. Nevertheless, taking in the entire scene made me lose my balance and vomit on the floor. The professor still had his hold on me so I didn't collapse on the floor in total loss of dignity but held by the back of my collar with his arm around my torso to keep me up.
"Oh dear, so I'm willing to guess that this is your first time witnessing the aftermath of a cat attack?"
I was still trying to breathe and get my bearings to not will more of my mess to come forth,
"I'm speaking to you, boy." He said in a warning tone that made me jump to answer, "Yes, Sir…It is..." I vomited again after my response. He also said in mirth,
"Well consider this, the first of many. Even though I abhor the mess you're adding to on my nice marble floors, I should thank you for helping me do my weeding. Those three were beginning to be constant thorns in my sides with their errors being more trouble for me than it was worth, you just made me have an excuse to make examples out of them."
"So…you're letting me go, Sir?" In my hopeful tone of response, he only laughed at me as if I was mad,
"Don't be absurd, boy! You now, as of tonight, work for me now. Remember this; you now work for the great criminal mastermind, Professor Ratigan. You can go for now; one of my assistants will lead you out of my lair but remember that if you try to go to the police, leave London, or try to make attempts on my life, I'll immediately know. I have eyes and ears everywhere so don't give me an excuse to gladly bring you to a rather premature death." My face grew pale at this, he's thought through what I could possibly do to escape his grasp. As I tried to make my way out of the barrel, he stopped me,
"Before you go, I expect you to be back here tomorrow at exactly 8 in the morning to know what your first job entails so if I were you, please start to memorize the way back. Until then, good night, Mr…"
"Murren, Rook Murren, Professor."
"Hmm, very well…Mr. Murren. Fidget!" I saw Fidget react in a state of surprise before hurrying to the professor's side.
"Yes, boss?"
"Escort Mr. Murren back up to the surface, would you?"
"Su..Sure, boss. Come on, Rookie. Follow me." I knew I shouldn't have used such a ridiculous name for a first name that almost referenced a novice in the American game of baseball but it was on the spot. Over time, I would be used to the my new alias and nickname Rookie by the other blokes but strangely, the professor was the only one that called me Murren and never my nickname. For the sake of being a proper employer, I supposed.
I wasn't up for conversing with that blackguard bat after my earlier run-in with him, I was too angry that I was suddenly trapped and forced to do the bidding of a criminal madman and just proceeded to follow him and remember the route. After traveling through the paths inside of an unused pipeline, we eventually came upon light at the end of tunnel. He jumped off out of the pipe into what seems to be back outside where the spot we were in now was underneath the pier and could see the foundations of the stone buildings where the sailors store the next cargo for the ships. The ground was covered in water where the only pathway was made from a series of stones that were made as stepping stones to avoid falling in the water. As I made my way through the path, Fidget led me to wait seems like a hidden entrance as he lifted the hatch up for me to crawl up.
What the bat led me to was the floor entrance to a rowdy, seedy pub that was in the midst of a bar brawl with knifes, punches, and kicks being thrown about. We constantly had to duck and in the chaos, I saw a stocky bar woman who was in range of being fired upon from behind and in instinct, I jumped on her to save her from the nick of time from being shot as we tumbled a bit from the hellish scene. As soon as I got me wits back, I backed away and apologized for any misdemeanor I may have done,
"Sorry, mam, but I didn't want to see some bloke make a bulls-eye of your noggin."
"No apology and my thanks, mate. Unfortunately, this happens all the time around here."
"Well, good luck to you, mam."
I managed to find my way out of the pub in the chaos and was soon met with the site of being directly under a pier were wooden boards were made to form a pathway in and out of the pub. The strong smell of fish and salt water made me almost gag but my mind was soon clouded by the events of the day. It took me a while to climb my way up to the deserted pier where I was the only one around.
I've went through hell before I came to London but I never thought that I would find myself back in hell again. Once again, trapped in a life where I have no say or control but this time…
I did it to myself and that's what done me in.
I did a lot of crying after what happened in my past life before I came to London, and after I arrived, I've seen to run into hardships that made me cry once in a while but I've tried to keep strong and hard.
But this night, I couldn't hold back; too much has happened to me in less than a day.
Like the pathetic thing I felt like I was, I broke down on that pier that night and cried like a pup.
End.
UK Victorian slang references
- Yampy = Crazy
- Cly faked = Old Victorian England term for pickpocketed
- Doss-house = Old Victorian England version of a motel.
The Great Mouse Detective Disney & Eve Titus