A/N: F for Rolf :P

"Tonight didn't go well," Carrabas began, his voice level as he paced the limited office space behind his desk. "Now, it's nobeast's fault of course," he continued, giving Kew-Kew a sidelong look that would have incinerated Rolf. "I'm not going to name any names. Or play the blame game." The stoat inhaled deeply as he drew back his chair and sat down.

A long moment passed, made even longer by the complete silence of even Kew-Kew. Suddenly, Carrabas lurched forwards, his claws drawing deep gouges in the desk separating him from his employees. "What were you doing!? Ralph! Do you have no real fighting ability whatsoever!? Kew-Kew! We had a plan! What happened? Rolf! Why didn't you remind him!"

The mouse flinched. "The judge was there! I-it was either ruin the match or ruin-"

"SHUT UP! You had one job, Rolf! One! And because you failed-"

A sharp knock at the door interrupted the furious stoat. Fuming, Carrabas got up, prized his paw free of the table and stomped over to open it. "We are in the middle of a very important disciplinary- oh Madeline! W-what a surpri-"

"Can it, stoat!" the tailor snarled, a needle pressed against his throat. "I want me money. All nine undue payments, in full, now, or I turn yer pretty fur into a coat an' sell it the highest bidder t'morrow!"

Carrabas swallowed audibly. "C-c-can't we talk about this?"

"No!"

"B-but I don't have the m-m-m-" the needle pricked him. "WAIT! W-what if I were to give you m-m-my office instead?" Carrabas put on his most winning smile. "Surely it's worth as much as n-nine costumes?"

"Hmmmm… could turn it inter somethin'," she mused. "Fine, fair's fair. Yer office is mine." She lowered the quill, gave the room a derisive sniff, then turned her glare to those sharing her space. "Get. Out."

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"You have no idea how much you idiots cost me," Carrabas whined as with a smile befitting her surname, Madeline Madquill slammed the office door shut behind them. "Next thing I know the artist I commissioned will threaten to hang my skull from a wall and it's all-"

"Your fault." Ralph cut him off, quietly.

Carrabas flared up, as if struck. "Excuse me?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Yer the one who changed the act!" the rat burst out, glaring up at the stoat. "Me an' Rolf have been doin' it for seasons! We know what goes where, an' who goes where, an' we know how te play a crowd! Me an' Kew-Kew didn't even get a rehearsal!"

"And who's fault was that?"

Ralph faltered, and his argument crumbled to dust. "Yer... the manager."

"Must I do everything?" Carrabas jabbed Ralph roughly in the chest. "I got you into the Black Eye. I got the whole of Plomplemoof to watch. I got the judges from Hanzaman's buttered up and ready to put you through! Everything you have ever achieved, Ralph, is because I made you achieve it. And when the time comes for you to put a little bit of effort in, you drop the ball!"

Madeline's spiked and furious face poked out from her new office space. "OI! Take this quarrel somewhere else, or I'll fill ye all with quills in places ye didn't even know ye had!"

"But Madeline-"

"Don't yew 'but Madeline' me!" the hedgehog hollered. Rolf, Ralph and Kew-Kew winced in unison as the hedgehog proceeded to offer Carrabas the greatest verbal beatdown in Plomplemoof's entire history. Very few details or words were discernible from her high-tempo, rage-fueled monologue, but it was in total silence and in great haste that the quartet slunk away.

Not that Madeline seemed to notice.

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"So it's my fault?" Ralph asked a short while later, once they emerged into the crowded streets of upper Plomplemoof and were a safe distance away from the one called Madquill.

"Not entirely," Carrabas allowed with a sigh. The stoat pinched the bridge of his snout, and put an arm around Ralph's shoulders. "Kew-Kew failed us, but he's an unintelligent savage. If Rolf had managed to explain to him- Ow!"

Rolf, who had put most of his body weight and all of his strength into stepping on Carrabas' tail, growled. "What did you want me to do?" he demanded, as Carrabas turned to glare at him. "That judge you 'buttered up' was breathing down my neck the whole time!" Rolf raised his voice, cutting Carrabas off before the stoat could even start. "And don't even start with Kew-Kew when you are the one who hired him! I said it was a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea. And you didn't listen!"

Carrabas paused, momentarily dumbstruck by the fact that this was, indeed, entirely his fault. "You can't blame me!" the stoat seethed, flaring up once more like a serpent poised to strike. "N-not when, when… Oh!" A candle was lit in the stoat's fast-working mind, and his eyes narrowed and hardened. "I see what you did! You sly, sneaky little rat!"

"That's offensive boss," Ralph muttered.

"You wanted Ralph to fail!"

Ralph frowned skeptically. "Boss…"

"You need Ralph to fail to keep your damn job! That's why you brought the wearet in!"

"Eagle," Kew-Kew mumbled.

"That's why you staged that fight in the Barfing Bird!"

Rolf blinked, too stunned by the ridiculousness of the accusations to process them, let alone offer any kind of rebuttal. "What?"

"Don't you 'what' me!" Carrabas snarled, sending the mouse sprawling into the dirt with a well-timed shove. "You selfish-"

"Boss! Calm down!" Ralph stepped between them, his nosering bobbing as he shook his head from side to side in disbelief. "I get it yer mad that things didn't work out so well, but it's not Rolf's fault."

"Indeed. Surely you are not going to harm him over the outcome of a match." Seraphine's cold drawl froze the raging fire welling up inside Carrabas.

"N-no, of course not." Carrabas cleared his throat and put on a smile as Kew-Kew and Ralph helped Rolf to his feetpaws. "What a match it wa-"

"Do not insult my intelligence." Seraphine interrupted with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "I know the fight was staged."

"W-what?"

"It was very obvious," the ferret went on. "Not just because of the suspicious-sounding advice your mouse was giving him, though that helped. And not just because it's twice I believe I heard the wearet saying he was throwing the match."

Desperately, Carrabas sputtered out an explanation. "Th-that? N-no, you must have misunderstood! Kew-Kew just agreed to give Ralph a um, a fighting chance so that the match didn't end too fast you see."

Unphased, Seraphine went on. "If you're going to have somebeast pose as a champion fighter's manager, do make sure that they're not one of your employees."

The stoat deflated. "B-but if you knew it was staged, why did you let it happen?"

The ferret shrugged. "Because I was the only one that knew, and I wanted to see what you could do. Needless to say, I was disappointed. No needs to look so down though. I was asked to deliver this to you." She handed Carrabas a fancy-looking roll of parchment. "I'm sure it will be the first of many similar offers" With a polite wave she turned away. "Farewell."

Carrabas unrolled the paper, his eyes frantically scanning the contents within. A few short minutes of intense staring and heavy breathing later, the stoat announced. "The Jesters Of Plomplemoof want to hire you for a stand up comedy routine! And you know what?" He turned back to his employees, his eyes bulging madly. "We're doing it!"

"I don't think so," Rolf snapped. "You said it yourself, you don't need me anymore." The mouse steeled himself. "I think it's time I moved on."

"Quitting, eh?" Carrabas chuckled. "Convenient then!" He jabbed at the letter. "This doesn't mention you at all! Goodbye Rolf!" Turning his gaze upwards, Carrabas grinned wide. "Kew-Kew, Ralph, the Jesters await and we have got some money to make!" He threw his paws high into the air, his newfound grin faltering at the lack of visible enthusiasm.

"Come on Kew-Kew," Rolf turned away. "Let's get some rest."

His eyes still trained to his gnarled footclaws, Kew-Kew followed the mouse without another word.

Stunned, Carrabas turned to find Ralph awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. The stoat sighed heavily, and thrust the letter into the rat's arms. "Keep this. I'm going to drink myself sick."

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The mouse and the wearet were deathly quiet on their way to the Barfing Bird. Not a word passed between them and not a word was spared for anybeast else. The glowering toad, who spat as they entered, was not even given a facial reprimand. Rolf and Kew-Kew took the staircases in similar silence, it's awkwardness punctuated by the creaking of every second step.

Silence only ended once Rolf had shut the door of their room.

"Kew-Kew panicked!" the eagle spluttered out, the unfamiliar feeling of guilt brewing and bubbling within him bursting forth. "I- when Kew-Kew was still eggchick Kew-Kew was alone. I is alone, and having to say 'I is smart', 'I is strong', 'I is big', b-because no-thingy else say it. And now lotsa preything say it! A-and Kew-Kew likes it! I likes it Rolfie! Don't want it e-ending. I- I-I is sorry Rolfie."

"Sorry doesn't cut it Kew-Kew." the mouse sighed. "You know I had everything sorted here until you showed up, right? If you had just stayed home Ralph would be a real champion now and I'd be on my way home with a retirement trophy. Now! I'm probably going to be murdered by Rodrick the Rumbler for what you did to his grandson."

"Sorry," Kew-Kew whined, his ears pressed back against his head, his eyes wide and pleading. "I is sorry."

"For what?" Rolf rounded on him. "Ruining tonight? Or for everything?"

"Everything?" the wearet frowned in confusion.

"You know. Shoving me around, licking my face everytime you fancy, starting that fight with Barrumtum, sleeping on my bed, blackmailing me."

"B-but Kew-Kew does that to every-thingy?"

"Why don't you stop?" Rolf demanded, paws akimbo. "Because I've had it with you and your feathers!"

The eagle shrunk against the mouse's anger. "Is not fault of Kew-Kew-"

But Rolf was not listening. "You big, stupid wearet."

The eagle flared up. "Is not fault of Kew-Kew mousey-thing is liar! Big liar who can't win even one cup-thing! Who steals and lies and then when Kew-Kew do something so mousey doesn't get hurt and only angry at Kew-Kew!"

Rolf scoffed, not even shivering as the wearet towered over him. "Like you did any of this for me. You just wanted a trophy for yourself."

"I did it for Rolfie!" Kew-Kew snarled. "But Rolfie doesn't care! Rolfie only cares about what family will say if he doesn't steal cup-thing of Ralphie!"

"Cup-thing?"

Rolf's eyes widened with horror at the sight of Ralph standing at the doorway. Before he could diffuse the situation, however, Kew-Kew turned and snapped.

"Big. Shiny. Cup-thing!" For emphasis he jabbed at the one he'd won from the Crowpit, still on full display in the bedroom.

"Oh you mean a trophy." Ralph smiled absently. "Anyways, I-" the rat stopped himself, his own eyes widening as realization struck him. Even his painfully slow mind could put two and two together. And when it did he blinked once, his face contorting in anger. He met Rolf's terrified gaze and the fear he saw there only confirmed his own. "I-it was yew?"

Rolf swallowed, backing away as far as the room would allow. "H-hang on Ral-"

The rat blinked, and sagged forwards. "I thought it was yew! I-I knew it was yew! N-never wanted te believe tha-that-" The rat exploded. "Yew lyin' rat!" Ralph threw the letter he was carrying aside, and stormed forwards. Even Ralph, short as he was, cast a shadow over Rolf.

"Yew knew how much those meant te me! Yew knew those didn't belong t'yew a-a-an' all this time ye could look me in the eye and lie te my face!? I thought we were friends!"

"We are not friends Ralph." The mouse squeaked. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to hold back seasons of pent up dislike as the rat stepped backwards, stunned. Then Rolf tugged at his ears and growled. "I'm the beast you beat up for a living. Yours? You didn't earn a single one of those stupid cups. You wouldn't have gotten anywhere without me." He jabbed a finger in Kew-Kew's direction. "Case. In. Point! The second you actually fight somebeast, you lose!"

Rolf took a deep breath, lowered his paws and went on, as anger tightened it's grip on him. "Do you have any idea what it's like to lose for a living? To get thrown around over and over and over again to fill up some stupid rat's overinflated ego? You know what made it bearable sometimes? The thought of one day ripping off your stupid nosering!"

There was a moment where he thought he'd gone too far, where, perhaps, he had said too much. Rolf braced himself for the pain as Ralph took another step backwards.

Yet the blow never came. With a strangled sob, the rat turned on his heel and fled noisily.

Somehow, that was infinitely worse.

Rolf let his anger subside. Let his whiskers fall and his ears droop. Let the guilt begin to brew. His face fell into his paws with a heavy sigh. "Where did it all go wrong?"

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A short while later, in the nearest inn in Plomplemoof,

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"A-and then he looked me in the eye a-and he said we weren't friends and that he never liked me, a-an' that the only reason he never quit was coz he w-wanted te rip off my nosering!" Blubbering at the top of his voice in the nearest bar he could find was not something Ralph had ever done before. But then, he had many new reasons to blubber. Rolf, at one point his only friend, hated him, his fighting career was in tatters and Derrick would never let him hear the end of it.

"There, there- hic- Ralph. Calm down." Carrabas, already six drinks into his goal of drowning in wine, patted him on the back and offered the rat a kerchief.

"I-I knew it was him," Ralph swallowed. "I-I knew he was taking the trophies b-but I didn't think h-he h-hated me. I-I thought we was friends! He was always nice te me a-an' I was-"

"Rolf hash been cheatin' -hic- ush for sheasons now -hic!" Carrabas interrupted. "I've been thinkin' about it for a while now and I shay it's time we- hic- pull one on HIM!"

Ralph chewed his lip. "W-what do yew mean-"

"Shtealin' yer trophies like yew -hic- said, an' what he -hic- pulled tonight with Kew -hic- Kew! He -hic- ruined us! But we can shtill shalvage this! The Jeeeeesters want you an' they want Kew-Kew too! But! Rolf's the only beasht with Kew-Kew's ear. SHO! We're going to get rid of Rolf, keep Kew-Kew and get hired by those Jeeeeesters." He swallowed down the rest of cup seven. "Then I'll pay all my debts, an' then I'll be debt free a' you me and that stuuupid wea -hic- ret can be fat, happy, rich and die fat, happy and -hic- rich!"

"Okaaaay, but how're we gonna get…" Ralph swallowed, the weight behind the words weighing heavily on his mind. "Rid of Rolf?"

Carrabas gave him a condescending look, made less impressive by the hiccups it came with. "We'll KILL him!"

"What?" Ralph exclaimed, his eyes bulging in horror.

"You heard me -hic-! We'll kill the moushe! Shmother the little rat in his shleep! P-poooison his -hic- shoup!"

Ralph swallowed. "I-I- I don't think that's right boss."

Carrabas deflated."You're right. Shtupid -hic- plan." He perked up. "We'll PAY shomebeast to kill him!"

"But-"

"But what? He's not your -hic- friend Ralph. And he's in our way now. I know -hic- killing is bad. But -hic- if I don't pay up soon I'll -hic- be the one shmothered in my shleeeep!"

The trophies he could have forgiven, he would have forgiven- deep down Ralph had always had a sneaking suspicion- but the sting of betrayal, the way Rolf had looked him in the eye and told him, with no amount of his usual sarcasm, that they were not friends, that hurt. And it was blinded by the pain that Ralph's face hardened. "Fine. We'll do that."

"Attaboy!" Carrabas cheered. "Don't worry -hic- we'll get a GOOD killer. He won't even-" the stoat teetered forwards dangerously, "Feeeeelathiiiing!"

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"How do yew even… know about this place?" Ralph swallowed, following Carrabas into The Seedy Bar. The dark and sinister looking creatures within eyed him like a juicy piece of fried haddock. Shivering, Ralph sucked in his gut and tried to make himself look more intimidating by not crying out loud when he stubbed his toe on the first table he passed.

"I had to -hic- pay off some ashsasshinsh -hic- hired to kill me. It was an -hic- eck-shpeareyence!"

"Welcome te the bar," greeted a shrew with a bulging eye- the same bulging eye that had stared at them from behind the door and spouted gibberish until Carrabas had brought up the code. "What can I get yew folks?"

"We need a -hic- killer!" Carrabas grinned wide. "An asshassh -hic! An assassin! The beeeest money can buy!" He slammed his fist onto the table for emphasis.

"Ye'll want Siler then," the shrew nodded knowingly.

"Is he good?" Ralph asked, a tingle of dread crawling up his spine.

The shrew turned to him, and gave the rat a lopsided smile. "He's the best! Comes in the night an' leaves widows in the morning." The shrew chuckled darkly, and beckoned Ralph closer. The rat swallowed and leaned forwards. In a whisper that emphasized the rasp in their voice the shrew went on. "What he does te them widows before morning... Not good conversation, that. He's in Room Seven at the moment. Be best if yew go I think," the shrew added, giving Carrabas a look of disgust. "He ain't a fan of drunks."

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"Enter."

Somehow the fact that Siler was a mouse only made him all the more terrifying. For so much villainy, and so much cruelty, and such a dark reputation to come in such a small package. His eyes were hard and cold and calculating, and undoubtedly they remained perpetually so.

"What can I do for you?" A simple request, so innocent at first glance, yet carrying the weight of acts dark and unspeakable.

"I-I-I need a-a-a killer." Ralph swallowed. His paws sought each other for comfort. "I-I hear yer p-p-pretty good at that. Th-the best. A-an' if yer as good as they say-"

The woodmouse silenced him with a smirk. "I hope you don't doubt the rumours."

Ralph paused. "A-are yew as good as they say?"

Siler rubbed two empty fingers together. "Wondering's free, certainty has a price."

The rat fished his pockets for a coin, found one and tossed it over. Siler caught it, bit it, and apparently satisfied, pocketed it. "Pick a target."

"Err h-how about that… -"

THUNK!

THUNK!

A pair of bolts whistled over the top of the rat's head, and buried themselves into the wall behind him.

"Y-yer good." Ralph squeaked.

Siler smirked. "I'm glad you agree. Now, the subject of payment."

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Ralph sat down at the bar and gave the bulging eye shrew a weak smile.

"Yer happy?"

"W-well… we er- . We need the best assassin…" he glanced at the now-snoring Carrabas, "...our money can buy. So Siler is a er- a no. Do you have anyone cheaper?"

"Hmmm," the shrew scratched the tip of their nose. "Well Olaf there will do it for half a sack of silvers."

"Er, still too expensive..."

"Gunther will do it for a sack of coppers." Ralph followed the shrew's gaze to a mole near the back who wore a set of skulls round their neck.

"Th-that is er- we are on a very tight budget."

The shrew frowned. "How much we talkin'?"

"I'm… not sure." Ralph scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Ye know what, this is stupid, I don't even know what I'm doin'. H-hirin' a-an assassin." He chuckled nervously. "I think I'll just go ho-"

"Did somebeast say assassin?"

Ralph turned to face the owner of the voice, a vixen clad in violently expensive clothing. "Um-"

"Yes! YES!" Carrabas cried to the heavens, as if in fervent prayer. "An ASSHASSHIN!" He promptly fell forwards against the bar and resumed his snoring.

"Great! Because I have just the beast you need!" The vixen did a dramatic three sixty spin, pointing both thumbclaws at herself. "Me! Robin Merriweather! I'm efficient, reliant and affordable with no refund options whatsoever." She blinked, paused for a moment to contemplate whether or not she should have added the last bit, and went on with applaudable enthusiasm and a wide grin. "Because I'm very good at my job. Obviously."

"Miss Merriweather," the bulging-eyed shrew grumbled. "Yer late with the rent. As per usual."

The vixen's face fell. "Oh. Er- a-am I really?"

"But that works out nicely, don't it? Ye'll do this job an' then yew can pay me back what's due."

"O-of course! Just what I was thinking!" The vixen sat down at the bar and gestured for Ralph to do the same.

Noting his hesitation the bulging-eye shrew shrugged. "As far as yer budget's concerned Robin here's as affordable as they come. Quite skillful too!"

The vixen frowned. "But you said that I-"

The shrew silenced her with a look, simultaneously fixing Ralph with a smile as he settled himself upon a stool. "Exceptional killer instinct. A real deadeye." The shrew winked, the better to show off their own dead eye.

Robin leaned in closer, and continued in a voice brimming with excitement. "So, rat, who's the target? What do they look like? Can they fight or is it one of those 'strangled by their own bedsheets' type?"

"W-what?" Ralph exclaimed.

"You know, the weak ones."

"Well, I suppose his punches never really hurt-"

"Also, would you like to order a vendetta policy?" Robin went on with a calm professionalism that Ralph found unnerving.

"W-what's that?"

"You pay me just a little bit extra to say a specific line before I kill them. You know, things like 'this is for Hamilton', 'Rosalind loves me more', 'my name is Indigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die'."

"This is for being the worst friend ever Rolf! All I ever did was beat you up and you go and steal my trophies and ruin my career!"

Ralph blinked. "I'll pass."

Robin shrugged in a very 'to each their own' kind of way. "Would you like them killed in a specific, perhaps poetic, way or are you not picky?"

"Er-" Rolf, crushed beneath the weight of stolen trophies and broken friendships. Rolf, strangled by his own bandages. Rolf, a blade plunging through the gap in his buckteeth and through the back of his lying mouth. "N-not really. Just... make it quick I guess. I-I don't want him te suffer."

"Aaaw, that's really sweet of you! But it'll cost a bit more."

"A-an' he won't feel a thing?"

Robin nodded. "Yup. Not one thing. Now, payment!"

Ralph swallowed, his heart beginning to hammer at his chest. This was real! He was going to hire a killer. He was hiring a killer. A cold-blooded killer. And setting them on his favourite pipsqueak...

Robin must have noticed his palour, for she gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry! I said I was affordable. Just give me whatever you've got on you upfront and you can pay the rest when I've finished the job."

"R-right." But Rolf had lied to him. And ruined him. And was now standing in the way of a brighter and better future for Ralph and his family. Swallowing down any further misgivings, the rat reached into the back of his pants and withdrew a single copper coin.

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Dinner was a quiet affair. Kew-Kew had snuck a pair of porridge bowls out of the kitchens again, but Rolf had merely scowled and turned his away. Kew-Kew had consumed both, feeling strangely empty despite his meal.

Just as they were turning into bed, Kew-Kew curled up on the floor and Rolf lying on the matress, the wearet spoke. "I is sorry Rolfie."

The mouse did not even look at him. "Goodnight, Kew-Kew."

Kew-Kew will make mousey happy again, the eagle vowed, as Rolf blew out a candle with far more force than necessary.


Footnote: Finally the plot thickens! Big thanks to Frost and Rascal respectively for Siler and Robin respectively. They were both heaps of fun to write! And yes, the Damocles Sword known as Ralph's Trophies has finall fallen and I think he reacted as everyone expected him to :P Drama is not necessarily my fortee. It can be pretty fun to write- but I also fear that my drama is a little bit... ridiculous :P Like... soap-operaish. But then, this is drama about anthropomorphic rodent wrestlers, some corniness is to be expected :P

Next time! Robin goes ahunting eagles.