The next chapter is here! I woke up and had nothing to do, really, and thought I would post another chappie! Thanks for all the reviews so far and I hope to hear more from all of you! Here we go!
Brilliantly Bittersweet
The figure in the shadows was brooding, the faint glow of the end of a cigarette between it's fingers the only light in the chamber. The ruffians had long since left, scooting off at the first possible moment to escape the wrath of their Master. The Master was not about to have sport with them, however, and chuckled an evil laugh. How stupid they all were. They lived in fear of him, knowing that he was the one who, with the dainty ring of his new bell, could take their lives from them; he was also the only one who could protect them from the other scum of the underground. They gambled their lives to live.
He had been pleased with the amount stolen that night. What he was planning was expensive and the Master still was not sure if he had enough to cover all the costs that might arise. But, he would deal with that when the time came. Even if it wasn't about the money, they still needed a trap for Basil, something to lure him deeper and deeper into the 'case' to catch them. If Basil knew this was a ruse, the plan would fail. The figure laughed again, cringing as he heard the sound of his own voice echo off the walls and come back to him. Basil of Baker Street, the famous detective. How smart and clever and handsome and brave; the papers failed to note how headstrong he was, how arrogant, how quick to rush into danger the detective was.
There was no way Basil would escape if he treated this case like any other. There would be no way for him to squirm out of the trap. Basil would die and the Master would watch.
Basil probably thought he was on the trail to find Ratigan. How stupid of him. Ratigan was dead. He had died almost a year ago, on a cold, rainy night, falling, falling, falling... It was after Ratigan's death that he had earned his title: The Master. It was then he came into what he deserved, what he was owed after Ratigan's death. He had proved his worth after beating off the ruffians who had planned to take over after Ratigan's death, taking care of his opponents and showing his true might as a leader. In the audience chamber of Ratigan's- No, his- hideout, he had gathered the scoundrels and ruffians and all others who had come to his call, Ratigan's own beloved pet crawling in, leaving tufts of hair on the floor, meowing pitifully. He had told them of his plan, the plan for revenge on Basil and the doctor and any others that would stand in their path of rebuilding the empire Ratigan had assembled.
That night had been brilliantly bittersweet. He was furious at the death of the underground king, spitting venom, the power of his anger building and building as he addressed his new followers until the height of the speech rivaled the thunder outside, until the gleam in his eyes was nearly as bright as the lightening that cracked overhead. It was also sweet because it was the night he had been brought to power. He was now the leader, the ruler... The Master.
Tossing the cigarette on the ground and grinding it out, he stood and walked out of the chamber, no movement but the cape the Master wore swishing over the cobblestones.
Scary! I wanted to slow down and set the stage a little, to give a glimpse or two inside the minds of the madmen we call Basil and the Master. I wanted to switch back and forth between calling him The Master and the Master. It really depends on how I want to use it on how I write it, so I'm doing that on purpose! .
Thanks for reading and please drop me a review! I love them! Happy Reading and I'll update soon!
