WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of abuse that some readers may find upsetting.
Alternative Endings: When things go horribly wrong.
2. The Pits (part 3)
"Tell me again dear boy, so that i'm sure I heard you correctly... where exactly did you last see those two heroic hamsters?" It had never occurred to Limburger that the bumbling bozo's ramblings about bank robbers and the mice saving him from them were actually true. He had just assumed the idiot had hit his head during another biker mouse-led attack and he was trying to make excuses for subsequently failing to carry out his orders.
"It's like I said before boss... some peoples tried to rob the bank and those mouses went after them... saved my penny collection too." Greasepit's entire life savings (somewhere in the region of three dollars... all in cents) were contained in a child's piggy bank. The pink porcelain pig had been repaired a number of times over the years, given the fact that Greasepit kept losing it from his slippery grip. On the day in question, one of the robbers had thought it a good idea to take Greasepit hostage, forcing the mice to back off. Greasepit had been more worried about losing his money than his life, but nonetheless was eternally grateful that the mice quickly came up with a plan, and saved him anyway.
"Hmmm... they were fighting other criminals... interesting. But who... who could they have been... and mores to the point, where did they go?"
"I dunno boss, when the mouses went after the robbers that's the last I ever saw of them." It had taken Greasepit nearly two hours to rescue the contents of the broken piggy bank. In the end one of the bank tellers took pity on him and gathered it up herself.
Limburger reached down to his brand new, oak-finished desk, and picked up the telephone.
"Doctor Karbunkle... Find me access to the federal criminal records database... and a copy of the land registry records for the city. Oh, and I want CCTV footage of the day of the bank robbery that Greasepit witnessed..."
"Anything else your portly parmesan-ness?" the doctor simpered in reply. Over the line it sounded like he had just applied a new chemical compound to his loyal test-subject, the incurably masochistic Frederick the mutant. His giggles of ecstasy (in between bouts of hiccups) filtered through phone to Limburger's ear.
The portly Plutarkian was in no mood to ask what the hell the mad scientist was up to this time.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is one more thing..." When he was hungry, there really was no way he could deal with the hare-brained musings of the demented deviant downstairs. "Get me the biggest can of slime worms you can find... I'm starving to death up here!"
A likely story... Karbunkle murmured to himself as he clicked off the speaker phone. He still didn't know what the foul fish was up to, but the latest request was the strangest yet. Last week he had wanted the phone number of every hot dog vendor in a 200 mile radius of the city. He's finally lost it, i'm sure he has. Nevertheless the doctor turned to his computer and sat down. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
It burned. It burned so badly he couldn't stop the scream escaping from his throat, and the laughter from his tormentors rang in his ears as he writhed on the stone floor, trying to kick out, to push himself away from the glowing metal pressed into his thigh. The chains held his legs in place, jerking viciously against his wrists as he struggled. Blood oozed where the metal cuffs bit into his skin, adding to the ruthless torture his body was experiencing.
"No, please... noooo..." The tan mouse shouted out in his sleep, the nightmare plaguing the precious little rest his body was allowed. He tail thrashed against the metal bars of his cage, adding a fresh layer of bruising to the tender flesh.
"Throttle... Throttle... wake up bro, wake up..." The grey mouse was frantically trying to get his friend to rouse from the dream. He whispered as loud as he dared, reaching his tail through the bars of his adjacent cage into the other, using it to shake his wretched cousin until he stirred.
The mouse groaned softly. The nightmare was the same every night, a distressing reminder of just how bad things had got for them down here in the Pits.
"Thanks bro" he whispered, feeling sheepish that his dream had disturbed the older mouse's sleep as well.
"It's alright... I hate seeing you like that is all." Secretly Modo feared the night time vocalisations would attract even more unwanted attention.
He lay his head back down, hoping that he might get at least a few more hours sleep before they came for them. It wasn't easy to get comfortable. They had been moved from the cells into a pair of steel-barred cages, sited right in the middle of the cell block where all of the other prisoners could see them. There was no privacy now whatsoever, as the cages were essentially a cube of metal bars, with the only solid surface being the floor. There was no bedding of any sort, and the mice were forced to sleep on their sides, their wrists and ankles remaining locked together day in, day out. On one side of the cage were two circular wire frames, each supporting a stainless steel bowl. One for water, one for food. Conveniently placed at shoulder height, the perfect elevation for their snouts to reach. They couldn't use their hands at all.
At least tonight they had been allowed to lie down. When the Pit Boss had first locked them in here they had still been wearing the chains around their necks, and these had been locked to the roof of the cage, forcing them to stand on all-fours all night long. The next morning they realised just how exposed they were. Over a hundred faces peered at them from the cells surrounding them, all looking down at the caged mice in a mixture of shock and awe.
"Maybe we will go down in history as the only slaves to survive a session in the pavilion" The bitter irony in Throttle's voice was barely concealed.
Now that they no longer had their hands free to use a pick axe, the Pit Boss had cunningly devised a new mode of hard labour the mice would endure. They were led into the mining pit that morning and presented with a leather harness each, which the guards quickly strapped to their bodies, paying no attention to the bloodied welts that littered the mice's skin. The straps were pulled tight, and the two furred captives clenched their jaws hard, groaning as the leather pinched viciously at their wounds. They were then expected to pull cartloads of the rough-cut stone from where they were mined to the half-built section of castle, which was some way across the other side of the Pits.
Pain shot across the muscles in their necks and shoulders, and their legs cramped in protest at having to propel them in the unfamiliar gait. They were frequently encouraged along the way by regular visits from the Pit Boss and his pulsing, yellow flex.
The only small mercy of this new arrangement was that they had time to rest, albeit briefly, as their loads were taken from them. They then had to pull the empty cart back to the mine and start all over again.
The biggest downside was during these rest breaks, which became their only opportunity to relieve themselves, they had even less privacy... and no way to stop the inevitable soiling of the chains that bound them.
But at least they had a full bowl of water to return to each night. Although that also meant a fuller bladder.
"Do you hear that, Charley-girl?" The question issued softly from the mouse's lips carried only a trace of alarm.
"Hear what...? What is it this time Vinnie?" By comparison the note of annoyance in the female mechanic's voice was unmistakeable. "I have to be up early tomorrow, is there any chance you could at least try and stop jumping at every teensy tiny sound that those oversized ears of yours detect?"
The white mouse looked wounded. He couldn't help being so on edge. Limburger tower was complete and from what he could gather from his latest patrols the fat fish was up to something. So far he and Charley had been able to keep up with the smaller schemes and heists that he had tried to pull off, but now he seemed to be gathering momentum for something far bigger. He had a whole host of shady characters frequenting his tower these days, and they were extremely difficult to follow when they left. I wonder what he is up to...why so many visitors?
"I'm sorry sweetheart... but this time I really do think I heard something."
The tired woman strained her ears, listening hard for whatever it was her furry companion had heard. She couldn't detect anything, and besides the intruder alert system would surely sound if anyone was snooping around outside. Yawning, she pressed her face back into the mouse's muscular chest, enjoying the slight cinnamon smell lingering on his fur. It had taken her a lot of cajoling to get the mouse not only to stop still long enough to take a shower, but to use the sweet smelling shampoo she liked so much. It was even gentle enough to use on his delicate skin. And oh boy it smelt so good on him.
"Go back to sleep Vinnie... if anyone's out there the alarm will go off..." She barely finished uttering the sentence before she herself was sound asleep, lulled there by the soothing rhythm of his beating heart. He pulled her closer and gently kissed her head. If anyone was there he wouldn't let them harm her. She was all he had now.
The next morning the sleepy mechanic shuffled down to the kitchen, her eyes still unfocused. It was way too early for her... but she had no choice if she was going to ever get through her mountain of repair jobs. Almost automatically she glanced at the computer in the lounge. A light was blinking on the control panel of the alarm system that was connected to it.
"Oh no..." she whispered, before reaching for the nearest heavy object she could find. In this case a bronze table lamp.
Clothed only in a cotton t-shirt and fleece dressing gown, she cautiously pushed open the door to the workshop. With nothing amiss in there, she crept to the back passageway, pausing to check the small kitchen before slowly opening back door. At least it's still locked.. a good sign I hope.
There was no one in the yard, but before she turned to go back inside she spied something white on the step. She grabbed the envelope, locked the door and hurried back upstairs to her bedroom.
"Vinnie, wake up! You were right there was someone out there last night..." The mouse stirred for a second, and then continued snoring. "VINNIE WAKE UP NOW ITS AN EMERGENCY!"
The poor mouse sat bolt upright and grabbed his gun from under his pillow. Without waiting for any more information he threw himself out of the bed, tripping over the covers and face-planting into Charley's woollen slippers.
"Ungh, quick Charley help me up will you, they might get away!"
She couldn't deny herself a small chuckle at the sight of the haphazard mouse nose down on the floor.
"Sweetheart?" Vinnie was starting to realise it wasn't quite as urgent as the woman had made out. However, he was concerned by the fact the half-dressed woman was still grasping the large table lamp from downstairs.
"Sorry Vinnie, it's ok we're not under attack. The alarm system was registering a trip and the bells must have a fault because they didn't sound. Anyway, we are lucky no one broke in. I did find this on the doorstep though." She gestured at the envelope in her free hand.
"Aren't you going to open it?"
"Umm, I guess so..." She didn't seem in any hurry. What if the envelope was concealing some kind of high-tech paper explosive?
Vinnie was far too impatient. It was 6am in the morning, and he didn't like being woken up this early for nothing. He snatched envelope from her hand, and before she could stop him he had ripped it open.
No explosion, thank you lord.
Charley opened her eyes again, and looked curiously at Vinnie. He had what looked like a letter in his hands. His eyes were wide, and he appeared to have stopped breathing.
"Vinnie... what is it? Are you ok? What does it say?"
The white mouse nodded, swallowing hard. To the startled woman he looked on the verge of tears. She gently took the paper from his hands, noting that he felt cold to the touch, and that he was shaking.
She looked at his face again, wondering what this mysterious note could say to make the mouse so upset.
Her heart found its way to her own mouth. For a moment neither of them moved. The note slipped from her loosening grip and floated smoothly to the floor.
A single line written in ink stood out against the stark white. It read: I've found them.