2017 - First Draft

Reminder that the story for my characters is very different now! Basically this is non-canon but I still want to store this somewhere.

Chapter 1

This is the usual night for the misted up Victorian street, with it only being lit up from the alehouse. The spitting from the burning fire almost makes Larkin feel like he is being held at gunpoint.

After another successful presentation at the Science Association Hall, it is somewhat repetitive coming down to have a pint and sit behind the crowd (often atop a barrel). It is only the inquisition from enthusiasts of Sir Attlay that always makes Larkin almost walk out the door on several occasions.

But today, he sits there, stuck out like a sore thumb. He can not help being belittled by the men that huddle like crows around the tables. They are formidable upper-class men compared to him. 

The dark tuft sits upon his head is untidy like he just had woken from a long sleep. And his bright green eyes that are like seas that none of them has ever seen. Although, those eyes are surrounded by the dark sacks from the endless hours he has been kept preparing for the presentation.

Every couple of months, Larkin and Thomas Attaly would present a new discovery to the entirety of The Science Association, A highly regarded group. A group that approves of new discoveries filled to the brim of bright minds from all over England. 

Today is the day that they present their new discovery about the ways the new medicine they have created will relief deathly pain. Although it will only last a while, It can save someone’s life by not putting them into a panic which can cause them to get a heart attack.

However, Larkin is not fond of the society for a variety of reasons: The smug remarks, the grim works behind the scene, the pushing Larkin under the mat. Nothing, nothing he could be credited for. No one saw that in him. Just some food that everyone thinks looks and presume to taste disgusting. It was all Attaly’s doing.

Misery sinks into Larkin as he stares into the endless crowd of drunken supporters of Sir Attlay. Eyes gleam towards his guru. Praise, Complements, Flattery and congratulatory comments. Those men do not bat an eye towards him. The small guy on the barrel, drinking his thoughts away. So much so, Larkin returns the favor of not paying too much attention to the countless other men wanting to be in his current position. If only they knew the true extent his position actually is like. 

Although, that even crumbles on him like everything else as he is forced not to be too rude.

A group of men, which for once he has not seen before, decides to approach Larkin, ready to shoot him down with a barrage of questions and comments no doubt.

"Larkin, eh? Isn't that Irish?" One man asks who stands beside him who sways side to side. He obviously had one or too many drinks. Wait, he already knows my name? Most likely this man was a bit too interested in Sir Attlay. Larkin replenishhis thoughts.

"...Yes. I moved to here a couple of years ago.” 

"So you're Sir Attlay's apprentice... aren't you a little young to be with a man of his caliber?"

"I'm 21 and I'm his assistant, not his apprentice as far as I know."

"Seriously? What, you do something useful then? I thought you'd just be his buor or something?" The drunk men around them laugh in harmony.

Apprentice was always the name given to me: ‘Ah yes! Sir Attaly’s pupil.’ Some would say, not even trying to remember my name that I spew out only a few minutes prior.

Being bogged down into the mist of Science Association would be a lie to say Larkin isn't disappointed or enraged. He keeps to himself. Those people won’t ever know what happens behind closed doors. Staining his life as some guy who is riding off the credit of Sir Attaly, it wasn’t like that at all.

It makes Larkin's blood run cold every time he would have this thought. All of the work he has done in his life which could turn into nothing. It scares him having the thought that what he’s doing now, he will be doing this all his life. Just in the aim to discover something that nobody has before. Sir Attaly, Thomas, isn't the truthful man people thought to see.

A thief is who that was. Someone filled with greed and selfishness in that entire body. He doesn't deserve to be known as a brilliant human. But… I never do anything to stop this. This is life and I'm Goddamn sick of it. 

Disgust, rage and greed. He had enough of these stupid thoughts. He slowly reminds himself that he shouldn't go down the grim path that Attlay's attitude is trying to influence Larkin. 

Larkin's patience isn’t very high today, to say the least. He did not believe he deserves anything these drunken men are saying. He abruptly sits up from the barrel only finding himself to be shorter than when he was sitting on the barrel, the unexpected rage filled him, "Hey! You know that I’m not as useless as you think I may be!"

“As we may think? Atta-boy, stop trying to ride him off.” The soulless eyes of one of the men stares down at Larkin.

“But I did the majority of this! You honestly think I put nothing towards this?” Larkin questions to the deaf ears.

“If you want to show how good you are, why don't you do something of your own accord?” Suggests the man who is still swaying like a boat besides him, “Stop being selfish. Live the good life you are living now”

Larkin slowly sinks back into his sitting position on the barrel. Letting go at the slip of confidence that hardly arises in public. Back to being pathetic. 

Maybe I am just being selfish. It's selfish of me to think that I could get the clear path to victory. But I know what Thomas is doing is wrong. I shouldn't become like him. A cheat. A cheat of life.

The clasp of silence around the small table is awkward. Even if the other men are laughing at the ridiculousness of Larkin, he felt awkward. Separated from the crowd. Is he supposed to to be like everyone else around here? Is that the groundworks Larkin needs to become recognised? His endless mind never dies down.

"Hey now~!" coos a deep voice from a man twice the size of Larkin. His hand push down on Larkin's shoulder, "We should be celebrating!" Sir Attlay's scratchy cheerful voice rang across everyone's ears which mouths all agreeing with. For a man nearly in his 50s, he still managed to engage anyone in any age set.

The voice of joy is a voice of a Monster to Larkin, which sends chills down his spine. He takes a graceful look at the being, "Hey Larkin, can we talk outside?"

Larkin follows the bigger man through the alehouse to the back entrance, where they are covered in nearly complete darkness by the walls surrounding them. Greystone layered up each wall with the wet cobblestone path beneath their feet, "Well done for another successful day, Larkin!" A grin crept up on Sir Attlay's pudgy, pig-like face whilst Larkin remains silent, his expression stale. Sir Attlay scavenges through his coat pocket before pulling out a brown envelope which seems like it was going to burst into the narrow corridor.

Sir Attlay scans the alley before swiftly giving the crumpled envelope to Larkin who takes it rather quickly. 

Larkin opens the envelope as he proceeds to inspect it's contents. He smiles gently at the money but sadness arrives with it. 

"Thomas, you know you can't be doing this forever -- I can't be doing this forever." He begins to slowly start saying. 

"Whatever do you mean? You get paid, I maintain what I have. Science has been all the rage recently."

"You're putting your name on everything I find and discover... what people want to be discovered." Larkin carries on. Thomas laughs dismissively and takes up a cigar and lights it as the dense smoke covers both of them as the distinctive foulness gratified their nostrils.

"You want to expose my façade just so you're satisfied along with being paid? Are you sure you don't want yourself to be starving? Being like them?" A cold, blistering wind travels through the alleyway as silence permeates the area. Larkin locks his eyes on the man, watching Thomas look away. "...You're being ridiculous now, Larkin! No one would ever believe you would have made those discoveries. Are we really having this bloody conversation again?"

Larkin puts away the brown envelope up away in his evening coat. He pulls away from the wall in an admissible sigh, "I'm not going to keep working for you if you keep pushing down my reputation."

"If I gave you more credit, I know you wouldn't be able to survive apart from what I'm giving you currently."

Larkin grits his teeth at the statement, “So what? Is that what needed to happen to those other men before me? Making their discoveries their own, their own livelihood and love in life.”

“Who cares about them?” Larkin eyes widen at the darkening tone of Sir Attaly graveled voice, who slowly turns his body towards Larkin once again, “They are out there doing what they want to do now. Although, I don’t think they are having a great life.”

Larkin is lost for words as the large man chuckles at the men he had before. Careless, “You’re despicable, you know that. I can’t believe you would say that. You were talking so highly of them before.”

“Thoughts change. So too do our lives.”

Larkin knew that he was talking about Attlay's now passed away wife. Thomas has had a change of heart through Sapphire’s passing but… this seems abrupt. No, he couldn’t feel too much sympathy for this man from what he just said.

Thomas breathes a deep sigh, "You wouldn't ever get the backing and money required to work for yourself. Just like the others who let go." He takes out his cigar, puffing before it went back in, "You, by far, Larkin, are the best assistant I've had. But your words are no doubt the loudest, most pain-in-the-ass thing when it comes to your own bloody job."

Larkin stays put, taking his words in, Attaly not looking at him as they smirk at the puniness of him. 

Larkin tails out a chuckle at the awkward silence at the ridiculousness of it all. He takes in a deep breath and lets out a sigh as he turns on his heel as he takes a small stroll out towards the main road, “I’ll talk to you later. I’ve had enough of us bickering whilst both of us should be enjoying the night.”

A thunder of laughter came out from the Sir, "Hey now Larkin.” He carries on, “Don't let them  damn people know. Or else… you know what will happen if you give them evidence. Not like they would want to believe you anyways!" Thomas jokes as he calls down the alleyway, his voice echoes off the unkept walls before he edges nearer to the single door on the alehouse as Larkin raises his hand, droopily swaying side to side and disappears into the fog which tumbles through the city.

He has to change things soon.

---

The cold struggle home is not delightful. The speeding droplet of water cascades on Larkin's worn-out, damp hat. Whilst it lacks practicality of an umbrella, it at least covers the eyes which enables him to penetrate through the heavy, glooming, block of fog which is constantly a foot away from him and shadowing a foot behind. The humidity collapses on Larkin whilst a building rage comes rushing through.

That freak was no gentleman I have ever dealt with before. Polite and mannered and knowledgeable: That's what a gentleman should be. Not a damn hypocritical psycho who manipulates whoever is in his hands.

Greedy. Greedy, that's what he is. What a swine he is, not only on the outside but a beast caged within which only some can see. Most are dismissive of his unusual behavior just because he has a title. Entitled to whatever he damn pleases. To treat me and fellow partners with so much disrespect is a despicable action. I'm now stepping on thin ice between him and me which will break at my will and I believe the weight has been pressing on it long enough for it to shatter. But what lies beneath the ice? A frightening monster or an unseeable force? Or what about if it's nothing. The life I have is good enough as it is and I do not want to dig my own grave because some bastard told me too.

The pattering rain seems to be stopping as Larkin approaches his home on the corner of the long attached houses which all seems like everyone knew what was happening in each house due to the thin walls which expel each from each other's land.

It is a secure street and it's exactly what Larkin requires to separate his work life with his personal life: Work is work and home is home. He doesn't like to blur those lines which are set in stone. He does not expect those lines to be broken after being there for so long.

Larkin steps over to the front door whilst he grabs his rusted up copper keys from his inside coat pocket. The key slips and slides like slime in his red hands before he is able to keep it secure between his palms before it gracefully fell towards the ground. In a grumbling sigh, he bends over to get the key before he notices a more tanned, elegant hand picks up the key before him.

Larkin opens his mouth to say hello before he leaves it open as he stares upwards towards the formidable force toppling just over him, an odd refreshing fragrance coming from him. His piercing deep blue eyes look straight through you, and blonde hair which is in the opposite condition of Larkin hair currently. Larkin takes a step back in surprise at the man who popped out of nowhere.

"Finders keepers so now I have the key to your house!" A cheeky grin emerges from the strange man who dangles the keys as if it's a joke. He seems too calm for Larkin's liking.

"Uh... Have I seen you before? Perhaps at the alehouse or the hall earlier on?"

The man chuckles and casts his eyes away from Larkin whose eyes were still fixated, "No, no! We haven't-- I mean-- not in person. Who would have forgotten a face like mine?"

Larkin raises an eyebrow at the odd fellow. He does not seem like he is drunk, but he certainly acts stupid and as unfunny as them. He is too exhausted to deal with this right now, "Really? I thought it is your words rather than your face."

"Haha- wait. Was that meant to be an insult?"

"No no! It couldn't-- I mean-- it could," Larkin mocks as he latches onto the keys and begins to spin the chain around his ring finger as he reaches the door.

“You know, for an assistant, you don’t look terribly happy.”

Larkin swings his head towards the suited up man whose head is not moving at all, “If you here to get information, I’m sorry. I cannot give anything.”

“Aw, seriously? I thought you have all the information in your pocket.”

The man looks down to Larkin’s pocket where the brown envelope is held. Larkin’s eyes widen as he looks down to his aged coat jacket. A gaping hole emerges from within Larkin. This guy really believes me? Does Thomas already know? He wasn't one of the men who spoke to me right? Scratch that, he knows about the money Thomas gave to me.

“How do you— what do you—“

“I know a lot.”

A breeze brushes the side of them to fill the void of silence between both of them. The man takes up a cheeky grin. “The name’s Fletcher. I'm sure you're interested in what I know, Larkin Callingham."