Into the Dark chapter 4

The hallways of the St. Bartholomew Hospital were quiet, and still. The upper levels left evacuated and empty, played host to the occasional Scotland Yard Officer who paraded back and forth, lazily, on their rounds. On the lower levels, the usual patients slept, crowded together as they were forced to share a closer company in order to properly isolate the patient that slept high above them. It had been a great shock to the ward when word came that they would be accommodating the greatest criminal in London. Crowd control had been needed, to calm the worried patients, and keep the nosy public from swarming the premises.

They had placed James Ratigan on the top floor of the emergency wing, strapped down to a hospital bed and locked in a small room, behind who's door two armed men stood at the ready. On every floor below, a pair of officers walked, patrolling through the night. The building itself was surrounded as well, police manning a 10 foot perimeter from every entrance.  Scotland Yard had finally captured the nefarious professor, and even in his unconscious state, they weren't taking any chances.

At exactly three a.m, a young nurse made her way toward the top floor, carrying a tray of medical tools and a small syringe of morphine. She wasn't stopped by the guards, nor questioned at all, for a man walked beside her, a man wearing a black coat and white gloves. The officers would salute him as he passed. He wouldn't acknowledge this, of course, men of his stature never do. He simply walked on, back strait as a post and hands held firmly behind his back. He needn't  say a word to the young woman at his side to ensure she did as he directed, when the time came.

The nurse, a small mouse with a slim face, walked up the last staircase to Ratigan's floor not with a feeling of fear but simply a sense of anticipation. If asked she would have admitted that she was more intimidated by her escort then the prisoner she was seeing. When the staff had been gathered together to discuss the treatment of the wounded professor, this small woman had bravely raised a tiny paw, and volunteered to take the job no one else dared to consider. She had only been at the hospital for a few months, having only lived in the city for a year. She was Scottish, and had moved to London after serving as a medical aid to the wounded soldiers who returned from Afghanistan. Even in the small highland hospitals, Professor Ratigan's reputation was known, and she was not immune to the threat of the powerful rat. But though she was small, the young woman was not weak. War had shown  her fear, pain, and a sense of hopelessness, all that she had experienced, and more importantly survived. The young woman had seen the horrors of man, and was not afraid of the rat.

When they reached the room where the professor slept, the man with the white gloves motioned to the guards. They stood down, moving aside to unlock the door and saluted the man as he turned to face the nurse.

"Just like the last times. Check his wounds, give him the morphine, and leave. I'm locking the door behind you. Knock twice when you're done." She nodded and turned toward the door. It opened with a click and she entered.

The room felt bare and empty. Usually meant for several patients, they had removed the other beds and left only his, standing alone in the empty space. The only light came from a window on the far wall. It had been heavily barred for the professor's arrival, causing the moonlight to fracture and stretch in long stripes as it spilled across the floor. The only sound was the soft flowing of the lace curtains, accompanied by the low gentle breathing of the large rat who lay on the bed before her.

The nurse heard the lock click behind her. Exhaling a held breath, she went to her patient. After setting down her tray, she lit a small lamp beside his bed, giving her some light to work by. The warm light chased the shadows away from his strong form, and revealed the sleeping giant that she was caring for.

The nurse raised her lamp to gaze at him. He still wore his tattered clothes, torn apart during the fall. Why they had refused to let her remove them, she didn't know. In the very least she had been allowed to cut away the clotted blood soaked fabric above his injuries, but they had even been hesitant about that. If they wanted him to die, she wondered, why did they bother bringing him here? Sighing, she set down the lamp and turned to her tools. She knew if she took too long, the scary man in the hall would be cross. He was an odd one, that tall gentleman. All dressed in black with his silver weapons, pistols and a sword he kept under his coat, and yet felt necessary to let show now and then, as if reminding the world that they were there. And those gloves. She thought about these things as she made her way around Ratigan, removing his bandages, cleaning the wounds, and redressing them.

As she thought about the gloves, she looked down at the Professor's hands. His gloves were gone, torn away in the fight on the clock tower, and revealing the clawed slender fingers beneath. This was the part of him that the young nurse did fear. They were so unnatural compared to her own. The hands of a monster, that now lay still and shackled at his side. For a moment her hand made as if to reach out to his, as if to take it in hers and see just how different it was. But it was a just a moment, and hesitating she drew her hand back and cradled it close, shocked by what she had almost done.

Shaking her head she stepped away and walked back to the other side of the bed where the tiny syringe lay waiting, its glass reflecting off of the shine of the metallic tray. The morphine was for his pain, though the nurse knew better. There was way more in this tiny vial then what was needed, and it wasn't just to compensate for his size. The police were keeping him sedated, like a wild beast they were yearning to control. The young woman picked up the syringe and held it to the light, questioning the morality of what she was doing, as her small fingers flicked against the glass.

Three little clicks against the needle, and a squirt of the powerful medicine, made sure that it was ready. But the nurse stopped for a second, her large ears perking up suddenly against the silence of the room. She looked around, confused by what she could have sworn was an echo. But there was nothing. Her ears twitched and she slowly turned back to the professor. Leaning in toward his arm, she stopped again, again the faint sound of little clicks echoed out from somewhere in the room. The nurse straightened up and perked up her ears. But again… there was nothing.

A loud bang from outsid startled her as the man beat a gloved fist against the door.

"Hurry it up in there!"

She looked down nervously at the professor, but he was still asleep. The nurse threw a glare at the door, annoyed at how he had startled her. She didn't grace his shout with a response but turned once again to her patient, intent on finishing and leaving as soon as possible.

But the clicks came again, and in frustration she put her needle down and huffed her way over toward the window where she was sure the sound was coming from. As she neared however, the young woman faltered, hearing the sound now clearly. It wasn't a series of clicks but a steady ticking sound.

The nurse crept up to the window and cautiously pulled back the thin curtain. Through the darkness of the London street, a thin layer of fog floated like a parade of ghosts, making it very difficult to see anything down below. But as she was looking down from her window, up on the neighboring rooftop, several sets of eyes were looking down at her.

"Damn! I told you to find the right room, you insufferable moron!" Dorian hissed, trying to keep his voice down as he glared daggers at the thug at his side.

"I, I tried, Dorian. I thought that was it for sure!"

"No, you idiot. the nurse is looking out the window to the right! Now the explosion  will be off." Sebastian Dorian peered angrily through a pair of binoculars at the woman in the window, and panned over to the bomb that had been set under the window next to it. Growling he lowered the binoculars and threw them at the mouse. Quickly he tore a grappling gun from the man standing behind him and aimed it at the hospital. A silent shot was fired and it hooked onto the roof across the way. Thrusting the tool back into the man's hands he stomped over to the thug as he was starting to pick himself up, and grabbing him by the collar threw him toward the edge where the rope hung between the two buildings. Dazed, the mouse managed to grab onto the rope before falling over the side. Looking fearfully down, he then gazed back at Dorian.

"Get over there and move it to the proper window." The tall mouse ordered.

"But Dorian, it's already rigged to blow..." he almost wimpered. Dorian's eyes narrowed threateningly.

"Then you better hurry." the mouse gulped and quickly climbed down the rope.

Moving as quickly as he could he reached the window under which the bomb was strapped. The clock, now almost a racing tick, seemed to grab hold of his heart as he felt it match it's speed. Using his tail to drop down, he grabbed hold of the bomb and began trying to pull it from the wall. His hands sweating as he tried desperately to pry it free.


The nurse, having seen nothing below now looked up, alarmed by the rapid increase of this mysterious tick. Her eyes widened as a group of shadowed figures looked down at her from the roof across the street. One of them was looking through a set of binoculars. He was taller than the others, and when he saw her dropped the lenses and pointed a hand toward her. She gasped and ran backward as another figure dropped down suddenly in front of the window, a devise in his hand and a wild look in his eye.

Turning she ran toward the door and threw her fists upon it. The man with white gloves opened the door looking angrily at her, but she pushed past him and slammed it shut just as the explosion erupted from behind hit

The force of impact shook the building and threw the guards and the officer off of their feet. The nurse, still clinging to the door, squeezed her eyes shut as it bucked against its hinges, a cloud of dry wall exploding from around it.
      
In the room, the outward facing wall was now a gaping hole of crumbling brick and falling foundation. Dorian gave the order and two more grappling guns were fired into the room, latching onto the walls and allowing a small team of Ratigan's men to slide down into the now open hospital room. Dorian was with them, and as he landed he instantly took charge. They moved with calculated timing and precision. In a matter of moments, two men had released the Professor from his bonds and lifted him up onto their shoulders. Dorian was overseeing the quick construction of a sling, just as the officers outside had regained their footing and were bursting through the door.

Dorian snapped his attention to them and instantly drew his pistol firing as they tried to enter the room and managing to hit one in the shoulder. The soldier fell backward and the other took shelter behind the door as he tried to fire around it. But the tall officer, the one dressed in black, took no shelter and simply came at them. Dorian recognized this mouse. He had never met the dark man but knew of him from his time in the wars. An ex-marine and now secret solder in her majesty the Queen's regiment: Alexander Barca.

The other mice took to their guns and fired an assault on Barca as he neared their position by the getaway. But he was fast, and before a bullet was fired he ducked behind the empty hospital bed. Dorian ran to the professor and helped take his weight. Just before they lowered him into the sling, Ratigan's eyes opened slightly.

"Dorian…" the name was barely a sound, as it grumbled from his throat. The professor tried to say more but only a raspy gurgling could be heard over the rapid gunfire.
"Easy, Professor. Save it for later, ok?" and Dorian and the others placed their leader in the sling. the rest  of the team on the opposing rooftop pulled the wounded passenger up an out of the broken hospital room, the rest of the thugs jumping out and grabbing on to the ropes to climb up after him. Dorian turned back to the bed and saw Barca pick himself up from behind the tattered bedsheets. They made eye contact, just long enough for Dorian to smile at him before pulling the pin from a grenade in his pocket and throwing it at the bed. The officer jumped up and ran out of the room, Dorian running in the opposite direction, toward the last of the ropes that hung outside the gaping mouth of the wall.

In a single bound, he leapt from the crumbling brick to soar through the air, grabbing on to the rope just as the grenade hit. The explosion was massive and the force gave Dorian just the right push to reach the roof top on the other side.

The now broken hallway outside of what used to be Ratigan's hospital room crumbled, raining debris on Barca, the guards and the young nurse. The four of them coughing and scrapping to get up from under the rubble as the smoke started to clear. Alexander Barca jumped to his feet, stumbling slightly as he tried to run through the broken brick and cement. With a jolt he stopped before falling through the hole that waited just beyond the door he had been guarding. It was as if the room had been removed along with its prisoner, and all the great soldier could do was watch as the villain disappeared over the rooftops carried by his band of followers.