A lonely, purple blue hued spiral of a portal opens up to a rainy, blustery night in London, England. A cloaked figure takes a step out onto the wet ground below through the vortex. Keeping the cloak from revealing too much, the figure sticks a hand out, feeling the rain on their fingers. A small smile is made visible on the figure's face, not one of mischief, but of kindness, of love. The figure brings their hand back to their body, concealing it within the cloak and continues walking through the streets, coming across objects left behind on the streets, but bigger, like they were but a small mouse. The figure glances up, and approaches to what appears to be an old newspaper. The figure proceeds to lean to get a correct angle to read the text... The Sunday Post, June 12, 1897. The figure staggers back at the date. The days might be a bit off, for all they know that the paper was left there for a few days, but the year is what struck them. The late 1800's! The figure shakes their head, careful to keep the hood over their head. Breaking into a run, the figure glances around rapidly for a place to dry off for the night. After a few minutes of running in the rain, the figure notices some lights in a small shop up ahead. Surely they must be open to late visitors. The figure runs up and approaches the door. Upon arrival, the figure knocks attentively. It doesn't take long for the knob to jiggle and the door to open.
"I'm sorry but i'm just about to close for the night-"
"I'm not looking to buy anything, I just need a place to stay and this was the only place with lights on." The figure stops themselves as they just noticed the man who opened the door was in fact, a mouse. He wore a pair of big round glasses, and a big furry mustache was plastered across his muzzle. The mouse looks surprised as he looks over the figure.
"Oh, well then. Let me close up shop and then i'll make you a piping hot cup of tea." The mouse proceeds to switch the sign on the window from open to closed, and takes his worn apron off. "Mind if i take your coat and dry it off for ya?" The figure hesitates, but nods their head as they take off their cloak, revealing a slim, young male mouse with scruffy brown fur on the top of his head, and bright purple eyes. "Oh! What's yer name, before i forget." the man asks, a Scottish accent being made audible to the young mouse.
"It's Garuda. Ross Garuda." The figure, now known as Ross, smiles, looking at the older mouse. "And might I know your's?"
"Flaversham. Hiram Flaversham."
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Heroes of the Past
FanfictionThings were normal for the city of London. The people roamed about their days, alongside their mouse counterparts! But everything is about to take a turn when two new comers, Stitch and Ross, enter their world and join an adventure they will never f...
