[No doubt that many will recognize the familiar landmark that materializes upon the stage. Big Ben herself appears - or at least, a very convincing replica that seems to tower above the gathered guests. The midsection of the clock has been exposed, revealing the device’s internal workings to all who view it.
As the cogs and gears inside the clock turn, doing their duty, Padriac Ratigan appears amongst them. Instinctively, he quickly realizes his predicament and leaps up to higher ground.
Once he is safely planted on a platform above the gears, he looks around and chuckles. Oh, this is just charming. What a pleasant scene! It’s not as though this terrain is unfamiliar to him, and he’s quite thrilled that something so theatric has been assigned to him.
He scratches at the walls, climbing up through the clockwork maze that had been laid out for him. These fools have given him close to a month of practice, and they don’t expect him to conquer this obstacle course? Why, this is mere child’s play! Surely, even our lovable Chippington could conquer such a simplistic platforming venture.
At last, Ratigan seems to venture to his goal. He’s close to the top of the clock now, close to his freedom. Freedom looks ever closer, and Ratigan chuckles. This is certainly no Tower of London, and the potential for escape looms ever closer. With swagger, he marches on across another platform, and it is there that he makes his fatal mistake.
Snap.
Ratigan trips. He gets up immediately, looking around with curiosity, piqued interest and just a little bit of fear. He realizes that something is...moving behind him. He looks behind him, noticing the snapped string that he must have tripped on. Suddenly, it hits him.
Boom. Twang.
He notices the plastic ball rolling down the wall behind him, the phonograph mounted on a platform high above him. It all fits together. The whole thing is a bloody trap, and he’s fallen prey to it. His mind is divided between two distinct thought processes. The first is that of a feral rat, screaming in anger. The second can only think of what a deliciously fitting end this will be.
Thunk.
The clock strikes, and a pendulum swings out towards the criminal mind. He only has a second to process that, before being struck. He is slammed into the wall by the pendulum, losing a bit of blood, before the pendulum moves away from the wall. He is peeled away from the wall, and falls, screaming, into the cogs.
Splat.
He is dazed for just a moment, leaving just enough time for the cogs to continue their work - with him on it.
There is a loud and violent crunch.
The cogs go on and on, smeared with blood. The remnants of a small bloodstained suit and opera cape hang uselessly.
And so ends the short, undistinguished career of Professor Padriac Ratigan.]
One Rat in Search of an Exit
As the cogs and gears inside the clock turn, doing their duty, Padriac Ratigan appears amongst them. Instinctively, he quickly realizes his predicament and leaps up to higher ground.
Once he is safely planted on a platform above the gears, he looks around and chuckles. Oh, this is just charming. What a pleasant scene! It’s not as though this terrain is unfamiliar to him, and he’s quite thrilled that something so theatric has been assigned to him.
He scratches at the walls, climbing up through the clockwork maze that had been laid out for him. These fools have given him close to a month of practice, and they don’t expect him to conquer this obstacle course? Why, this is mere child’s play! Surely, even our lovable Chippington could conquer such a simplistic platforming venture.
At last, Ratigan seems to venture to his goal. He’s close to the top of the clock now, close to his freedom. Freedom looks ever closer, and Ratigan chuckles. This is certainly no Tower of London, and the potential for escape looms ever closer. With swagger, he marches on across another platform, and it is there that he makes his fatal mistake.
Snap.
Ratigan trips. He gets up immediately, looking around with curiosity, piqued interest and just a little bit of fear. He realizes that something is...moving behind him. He looks behind him, noticing the snapped string that he must have tripped on. Suddenly, it hits him.
Boom. Twang.
He notices the plastic ball rolling down the wall behind him, the phonograph mounted on a platform high above him. It all fits together. The whole thing is a bloody trap, and he’s fallen prey to it. His mind is divided between two distinct thought processes. The first is that of a feral rat, screaming in anger. The second can only think of what a deliciously fitting end this will be.
Thunk.
The clock strikes, and a pendulum swings out towards the criminal mind. He only has a second to process that, before being struck. He is slammed into the wall by the pendulum, losing a bit of blood, before the pendulum moves away from the wall. He is peeled away from the wall, and falls, screaming, into the cogs.
Splat.
He is dazed for just a moment, leaving just enough time for the cogs to continue their work - with him on it.
There is a loud and violent crunch.
The cogs go on and on, smeared with blood. The remnants of a small bloodstained suit and opera cape hang uselessly.
And so ends the short, undistinguished career of Professor Padriac Ratigan.]