Stripped
Disclaimer: The only people own are Ben and Chester Meroff. Don't use them without asking.
Author's Note: Ben came into my mind one day while I was daydreaming and pestered me until I wrote a story. So here it is. Not my best work, but I decided to post it anyway. I have no idea where Chester came from.
For the rest of that day, Ben had a hard time looking anyone in the eye, especially Basil. How could she be so stupid, leaving her stuff around like that? Especially stuff that'll blow her cover. She stared out the living room window, lost in her own thoughts. She sighed deeply, watching human feet pass by the window.
She got up slowly and shuffled to the front door. Maybe being outside would clear her mind, at least for the time being. She pushed open the door and stepped out into the rays of a late afternoon sun. She walked, listening to human voices talking about parties and weddings and get togethers. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her pants, she wished she was that carefree and only had to worry about "Should the Bridesmaid's dresses be Rose or Burgundy?" or "I simply don't know if I should wear my red silk dress or my blue velvet one to the party." instead of worrying about some psycho she hardly remembered that took her necklace and wants her dead.
She continued walking down the street, keeping her eyes cast to the cobblestones of the street, unaware that in an upcoming alley, Stetter awaited her, the dagger Chester gave to him gripped in his grimy paw. His red eyes glinted as he awaited her approaching footsteps. Ben stopped a few feet from the alley, her nose detecting the scent of dirt and fur. She decided to avoid the alley she was approaching, but just as she was going to cross the street to get away from the alley, Stetter made his move. He jumped out of the alley and, with his yellow teeth bared in a sick smile, lunged at Ben.
She yelled and tried to run, but Stetter was faster then her and had his paw on her vest in a flash. Ben was glad that he did grab her vest because she just wiggled out of it and took off. Stetter, in a desperate attempt, threw the dagger at her back. Ben moved slightly, throwing the knife off course and it slashed her upper right arm, ripping through her shirt, fur, and skin. She cried out in pain as the cold steel cut her skin and she paused and covered the wound with her left hand. That was a mistake because Stetter tackled her from behind and pinned her to the ground. She tried to push him off, but he was too heavy. He grabbed the back of her shirt and dragged her into the alley he came from, picking up the dagger in the process.
"Boss 'ired me ta kill ye," He growled in her ear, his voice gravely. He pinned her up against a wall and ran the dagger over her throat, pressing lightly.
" 'e tol' me ta make it slow. 'e wanted you to suffer, jus' like your father."
At the mention of her father, a burst of strength surged through her. Her fingers quit clawing at Stratter's hands and instead found herself giving him an all mighty punch in his face. He yelled and dropped her, his hands flying to his bleeding nose. Ben stood up from the ground, daring him to attack her again. She found her courage and she was ready to fight.
"Forge' Boss, it's personal now!" He yelled, launching another attack at her, forgetting all about the dagger that now lay on the ground. He raised his hand, unsheathing his claws, and brought it down across her muzzle. She squeaked in pain as his claws slashed her skin, leaving three gashed in their wake. She retaliated with a swift knee in his stomach. He doubled over, spitting in pain as Ben tried to make a run for it. He reached out with one hand and grabbed her tail, wrenching her back toward him.
"No. . . ya. . . don't," He panted, recovering enough to straighten up. "You're. . . no' gettin' away. . . tha' easily." Ben tried to pull her tail from his grasp, but he backhanded her across her temple. She stopped struggling, stupefied by the blow. He put her on her back and pinned her shoulders to the ground.
"There now, stop ye strugglin' an' take your punishment like a good lil' girl," He whispered in her ear and ripped her shirt open. Even through her blurred vision and weakening limbs, she tried to fight him off. He shifted his grip from her shoulders to her wrists and pinned them above her head. She realized something just then. He called her a girl. He knew she was a girl! That was the last thing she thought of before darkness overcame her.
It was dark by the time she came to. Her attacker was long gone, but she could still smell his stench on her clothes, which were rumpled and looked as they were hastily put back on her. Her whole body ached to its core and her mind was hazy and disoriented as she sat up, realization of what happened then hitting her hard. She felt sick to her stomach as she though that mouse, taking her clothes off and. . .
Her eyes dulled as she went to her hands and knees, losing anything she had in her stomach. She struggled to pull herself to her feet, using the wall as support. Her legs felt shaky and she felt the wound on her arm and the ones pour warm blood onto her fur and heard it drip on the ground as she limped away from the scene of the crime. She felt weak from loss of blood and her head injury made her dizzy and her vision to shift in and out of focus. She held her torn shirt closed with her good hand as she made her way back to Baker Street. When she got there, she barely had enough energy to knock on the door. The landlady opened the door, and gasped in shock and horror at Ben's bloody, beaten form.
"Doctor, come quick!" Ms. Judson called out urgently. That's all Ben remembered before her legs gave out and darkness overcame her a second time.
Suspense. . . Sit tight, more to come soon!