James Moriarty - Tempestuous Tides

Chapter 4

Moran returned the ship back to the docks in England, organising the repairs of the ship for their new adventure into the unknown, not knowing where they could end up. Months had passed since Moran had left Moriarty, with no explanation of what he would be doing, and why he would be leaving for such a long time. 

He missed Aella Moriarty, he missed who she was. When he had seen her leave his side for the final time for a while, he had become his own worst enemy. Every action he had ever done was questionable in his mind, wondering if he had indicated to her that she should leave. Inside of his head, he was trapped. She took away the pain. She took away everything being okay for him. 

Somehow, she took his burdens away from his shoulders, and now she was gone.

James Moriarty was back to his old ways, trying to make everything okay after she left. All his blood tests had shown that Aimee was also his daughter, which he had no time to process, and now he had no clue how he was ever going to be okay after this. Usually, he had the time to get everything together in his head, but this was something his head was incapable of bringing together as just one memory.

Moran got off of the boat, keeping his head high, he was a warrior who had fought so hard to get where he was. He was the one who had somewhere to be, somewhere to go, he was rising to be who he used to be. One time he had said farewell, but this was never going to end for him. London was just as he had left it, criminals running like maniacs with their duties to their masters being served. Yet, Moriarty was still the king of crime and evil, every one of the criminal organisations knowing exactly who to fear.

Fearing the duo of Moran and Moriarty. 

When Moran reached the edge of the building Moriarty was now calling his base for all his new operations. Knocking felt too formal for two very close people. 

His hand shook as h placed it on the handle of the door to open it wide. He felt his body suddenly go cold with the flashbacks, the memories of the things he had done with James. James was the one who shaped him into the strong, powerful figure he was becoming. 

Somehow, he knew that now was his way of showing he could come back to show Moriarty what he could do. So, he took his shaking hands, making them steady, focussing his thoughts on what he knew he needed to do.

Pushing down on the door handle, he opened it wide and ventured inside the newly decorated home of Moriarty. It was stunning and vast like a mansion. He never needed to want for anything, he was able to have everything he wanted, when he wanted. 

"Hello?" Moran questioned the hello, wondering if anyone was actually here, wondering if anyone actually lived here now.

Above him, the chandelier lights were flickering, the other lamps hanging on the walls beginning to dim. As they began to diminish by the minute, they soon started to flicker off, dwindling in their power till the whole room went black. 

Moran dived behind a desk by the door, pushing it further in front of him so that he had some viable protection against gunfire if it was to occur soon. This act of plunging Moran in darkness was someone's idea of fun. 

"I know someone is out there, come on, I know how these games are played. I have played them before!"

"I know you have because I was with you," a voice shadowed over the room, giving Moran the shivers.

The voice was so hollow, yet full. Tired, yet awake. Captivating in the purr coming from the back of the empty hearse of words. 

"We played these games," Moran sounded so condescending in his words, without seeing any need to be that way at this moment.

"We loved seeing ordinary people put into a pit of our demonic games, watching them scurry around to only be dead in a matter of minutes as their legs took them too close to the point of our guns," the creaking of the stairs echoed around the walls of the mansion. "We were the warriors of these games, so we took it in turns to fire the guns. It all depended on what a good little servant you were that week."

"It may have been months since I have seen you Moriarty, but it may serve you well to know I come here on a full reason," Moran kept to the opposite side of the room since he knew he had scanned the stairs to be on the left-hand side of the building, and that was where he was. "I come on the business of your daughter, Aella."

"She's a traitor, did you not know she killed my other daughter," James was now at the bottom of the stairs, he was pacing to the opposite side of the room. 

"If you wanted to hurt me then you should know I have a very suspicious wound on my arm I have not had fixed up for the past fifteen hours since being at sea," Moran was so assured he would listen when hearing he was injured. 

"What injured you?" James took one step forward toward where he knew Moran was, and Moran knew that.

Moran softly stepped toward his right, nearing the window, circling around the back of where he knew Moriarty was.   "You know what injured me."

Moran climbed the stairs, getting up to the top of the stairs, finding the right amount of light from one of the windows that had some light coming through it. Upon seeing where Moriarty was, he watched his sinister gaze land upon his body at the top of the stairs. In fast succession, their guns trained on each other in one snap movement. 

"We have never forgotten how we work together," Moriarty said, letting the lights flicker back on to reveal themselves to one another. 

James had now had stubble, sunken eyes, and a smell of alcohol lingering on his body. Everything had changed. Moran looked seasick, green, he had longer hair than ever before and it curled on his neck, deeper eyes that seemed so drained and destructive.

"What happened to us both?" Moran said as he watched Moriarty get closer as he walked down the stairs, putting his gun away in his holder for it. 

"Aella, happened," Moriarty wiped his eye as it watered from an eyelash being stuck in his eyes. "Why are you here about her?"

Moran took off his jacket and revealed the bite mark on his arm, showing the deep incision that had been made on his arm. 

James looked to the wall where a set of teeth hung on the wall like the head of a moose. They were sharp like many daggers. 

"What are those?" Moran questioned, wanting to know what they were.

"I think I need to know Aimee, these were hers," he picked them up off of the wall delicately since they were so lethal. "Just a plastic version, I would not have kept her own teeth. These resemble the bite mark on your arm. You need to tell me how you got that. Ordinary people don't get bitten like that."

"And neither do a whole crew of sailors and the captain diving into a stormy sea."