Chapter 2

Among the dark alleyway, a dark shadow paced back and forth impatiently. He was assured that an answer would be given over an hour ago, but nothing. Not a single peep. Shivering, he rubbed his hands together, blowing into them to keep them warm. He should have known that this would be a long wait as he took the metal flask from inside the pocket of his coat. Pulling the cork, he took a large swig of whiskey which seemed to warm him for a bit before he placed the flask back into his pocket. As he cursed under his breath in his own native tongue, he was soon stopped at the sound of rustling.

"Who's there?" the mouse called out. No one answered. Feeling alert, he calmly reached into his coat where he carried a small knife. Retrieving it, he followed the noise, remaining cautious to not be caught by any patrol bobby that might be lurking about. Hearing the exact noise from behind him now, he turned, readying himself to strike at whomever was near.

"All right you filthy bastard, come out and fight!" Not realizing he left himself off guard from where he once stood, he failed to see a large figure sneak up behind him.

"You would be lying in your own blood before you could strike," a dark voice said, causing the mouse to drop his weapon and turn. Wide eyed, he backed away from the larger rodent, trapping himself against the brick wall behind him. The mouse's employer, glared down at him, no expression on his deformed face. It was clear that this had been the thug's first encounter with him for could not tear his eyes away from him. The entire right side of the larger rodent's face was covered with many scars that reached from his hairline to his throat, his long raven hair hardly being enough to cover it.

"Not frightened I assume."

"F-frightened," the mouse struggled, "n-never."

"Then you are even more of an idiot than I gave you credit for." Grabbing the mouse by his collar, he was soon lifted off his feet and pinned against the brick wall.

"B-boss, please-"

"Oh, so now you are begging for mercy? To think, even when I was assumed buried six feet in the ground, you worthless excuses for criminals still fail at doing one simple task that should have been done months ago."

"Y-you don't understand…"

"Don't I? I just came from Baker Street as I was hoping to see a heartbroken widow crying amongst her now deceased husband's pillow. Instead, what do I happen to witness before me? I see the detective safe and sound in the arms of his beloved, making love to her!"

"We tried to off him earlier today, but another mouse was in the way."

Growling with rage, the small rodent was thrown to the ground. "I gave you all countless chances, Arthur… countless. It was a simple task that any could fulfil. It seems that I was wrong. At least I know that you are capable of killing a wanted murderer and two Yard officials, but when it comes to that detective, you don't even stand a chance."

"Might you be reminded, James, even you could not kill him," another voice commented. As James turned slightly, he came face to face another rat slightly taller than he. He was lean, but rather toned in the chest and muscular. His fur was of a midnight black, where if he chose to, he could have the ability to strike at any poor mouse without being noticed by the naked eye. His Auburn hair was sleeked back. What made him stand out was his blood read waist coat and white button-up shirt. For only a split second, the young rodent found him intimidating, especially with his turquoise eyes gazing at him, carrying no emotion.

"You might be just as powerful as your father-"

"More powerful, actually," James pointed out egotistically.

"The fact of the matter is that you pounce on these worthless creatures when your plans do not go right without any hesitation. When it comes to your mistakes, however, you seem to deny them. In fact, thanks to them, you might have been able to resurrect yourself with that little amulet of yours, James Ratigan, but that does not prove that you are any more powerful than the rest of us. Crafty? Yes. But it takes more than that to destroy your enemies, more than just some childish magic tricks."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Tipping his hat, he introduced himself, "Heir von Hoffmanstal, former commander of the German army… and an old friend of your father's."

"Former commander?"

"Yes, I was one of the very few rats to be promoted to an officer's rank. Alas I was dishonourably discharged due to abusing my chain of command."

"I see…How did you come to know my father?"

"It is a very long story, but I will say we both had one common goal: to be rulers. Much like how he obtained his inspiration from one Professor James Moriarty, I too gained my inspiration for one remarkable human that I know will have Germany bowing before him in year's time."

"However both Moriarty and my father died horrible deaths. I obtained my inspiration through black magic, not some worthless human."

"Do you think all your hocus pocus will get you far? It hasn't seemed so for Basil of Baker Street still stands."

"And do you think you can do any better? What lives have you taken that makes you prove yourself worthy to take him out?"

"More than you will ever know," Hoffmanstal replied, a sinister grin on his grey face. "For many years I have brought fear to a numerous amount of mice in not only my home country, but all around the world. In fact, I am quite sure that detective is familiar with some of my work."

"What work might that be?"

"Do you happen to recall the Whitechapel murders that occurred just one year ago?"

While James grinned, amused by this little discovery, Arthur who looked up, baffled questioned, "So it was you that brought London towards the brink of fear."

"The underground especially," he told the young mouse. "All were petrified when word about me spread through the criminal vine. Who in their right mind would want to step up against someone as deadly as the Phantom Reaper as I was so cleverly labelled?"

"Of course, you were never caught," James stated.

"Indeed I wasn't. I was able to cover my tracks and put the blame on one Doctor Andrew Jameson. However, the fear of being arrested and hanged for crimes he did not commit, gruesome ones at that, he threw himself off his own balcony."

"Brilliant! However, if I may inquire, what is it that you want from me?"

"Who said that I wanted something from you?"

"You happened to show up here in the dead of night, knowing of my getting of Basil of Baker Street. One might think that you were following me."

"Correct on both parts, apart from one slight change. I was not following you, more like…observing." He then motioned towards Arthur who looked up at the two rats with such confusion. "I was actually leaving, which was indeed in this very direction until I heard you shouting at this…poor, pathetic soul and chose to make myself known to you."

"Ah…"

"Also, it seems that you have already been aware that this detective in which you seek to destroy is not one to be trifled with. He might be of a different species, but he still has the strength and dignity to protect his wife and child, and most certainly would fall to his death before anything was to happen to them." James stared curiously at the other rat as he grinned wickedly from ear to ear.

"It seems that you have something in mind, yes?" he inquired with such interest.

"Indeed I do, but if you do not mind working alongside me, I trust we both could be rid of this mouse in no time at all."

James pondered at the thought for a brief moment. Could he really trust him, he thought. Trust no one that was what he always followed. However, for some unknown reason, this rat seemed all too promising. Still, this was his battle against the detective. In no way was he going to allow Hoffmanstal take full control of his revenge scheme. After another moment or so, James grinned sinisterly, before extending his hand.

"Very well," he began, "but let it be clear here and now that though you too have your own quarrel between him, this is my war to be won. If you dare go behind my back, I can promise you that I will do what I must to kill you before you can even blink. So, do we have an accord?"

Hoffmanstal grinned only slightly, no very intimidated by his young companion's threat. "Such drastic words from such an amateur criminal as yourself," he commented with an amused chuckle, grasping his hand in a firm handshake "But very well, I shall without a doubt accept your wishes…"

Or shall, I?