Sebastian Moran was never one to believe in fate. If something happened, it was simply coincidence. Certainly, meeting Moriaty had been the luckiest day of his life, but still, a coincidence.
Right now however, he was beginning to wonder if there was perhaps fate, trying to tell him that he was going to be stuck among weirdos for the rest of his life.
This particular weirdo was busy giggling manically over the boxes of explosives stacked up in the warehouse, murmuring quickly under his breath, counting the boxes carefully. At times he would turn to look at his diagram, before looking back to the boxes.
"Sir? Are you certain this is the guy?" Someone hissed softly at his elbow. He shot them a bored, languid look.
It didn't really matter who the person was, so long as he got paid the correct amount. Still- He padded forward, lightly and soundlessly as the diminutive man dropped the diagram onto the floor and started scrambling up the crates. "Ahem."
The man made some kind of noise, and Moran stared at him for a moment longer. "Money please?"
The man pointed to a suitcase sitting off to the side. "In there! Lots of booms- ehhehehehe~"
Moran glowered at the person for a long moment, before gesturing to one of his men sharply. They quickly opened the suitcase- it was filled to the brim with money, American bills yes, but enough and more then what they asked for.
Moran smirked as he stepped towards it. They would leave the man with his explosives, and claim no knowledge when a public building was blown up. Slightly curious, he glanced down at the plans, wondering what school was going to vanish this time.
What he got instead was a highly detailed, carefully marked diagram on how to blow up Stonehenge to rearrange in the face of the current buyer.
Moran stopped. Stared. Thought. "The deal is off."
The man's face swiveled towards him, crazed grin not even flickering. "No deal for Crazy Harry?"
"None."
He may not be the worlds greatest citizen, but he was not going to allow a bloody Yank waltz in, bomb Stonehenge to look like his face, and waltz right back out!
Crazy Harry giggled in response. Moran took a step back, some inner sense telling him to run. The madman pulled up a remote- a remote to the explosives. Moran patted his pocket, looking madly for that remote. It wasn't there.
He took off running, abandoning minions to their fate. The crazed, cackling laugh reached its highpoint, and the colossal boom echoed behind him. He turned, in curiosity, wondering what had become of his men.
They staggered out of the rubble, covered in soot, and completely black from head to toe. Moran stared at them for a few moments, stuck both hands in his pockets, and gave the day up as a rather bad day.
Still, he could at the very least salvage the money.
He took a step forward, when Crazy Harry's chuckling filled the air, and he took a step back. The man had been sitting on the explosives. He should not have survived; and even if he had survived, then he should not be emerging from the rubble like a phoenix. A crazed, explosive loving, definitely off his rocker phoenix, but on fire nonetheless.
Moran chucked in the day as being a bad day, and slunk home to where Moriaty could soothe his woes with an order to kill someone.
