There was no moon that night. The dark shapes of the night, made darker by the light of gas lamps reading yellow-orange glow, blackened shapes scurrying under the covers of night. Like rats invading a home, Bats on soft leathery wings, or a Cat perched atop a fence gate looking for a way in.

Darwin leaped into the cool night air with instinctual grace, the shape faded from view briefly as he touched down on the smooth cobble streets. He jumped again, dashing under a wagon wheel, a cart left idle in the daylight hours. Now looked like an abandoned husk here in the darkened street.

His bright eyes peered into the dark pieces the vale of the dark as if he were capable of casting light from those gold and green disks. Sweeping the dim and dusty corners of the earthy gloom for his prize. Lunging suddenly and squeal broke the deathly silence as he bit down on the dying form.

The night stalker lifted its head, the dead meat of a rat dangling from its chops.

Darwin spat the foul flesh from his mouth in disgust, Some other instinct had possessed him and now he was eating rats. He was acting like a Cat.

Shivering in repulsion at the thought of losing what little remained of his manliness to the darkened world of beastly instincts, a savage and brutish realm of skullduggery and lusts. He was a man; it was beneath him.By right of his mind placed above such animals, him and by God's ordainment.

He shook off his growing dread, once he finished here, it would never hinder him again. He might enjoy documenting how long it took for the demonic creature to lose his mind, thinking he was a simple Cat. As study and revenge. He might find a use for such research, maybe. Of course, it would be sweet to review the notes now and again, a record of his triumph and final victory.

He looked down in disgust at the rat and sniffed at it, he'd leave it for the worms, they could have it.

He crept forward, poking his head out into the street, scanning for his proper prey. He dashed for the open maw of the alleyway, the concealed passageway, filled with spare boxes and rags of old sacks, thick with a chemical smell. Darwin approached the windowpane, peering into the store and seeing the vague shapes of bottles and vials in the dark.

He chuckled to himself as he focused on the simple iron latch sealing the window. With a scratching sound of hidden fingers, tapping at the glass, he shivered with delight as he pried the old window pane open, digging his claws into the gap and flicking the two metal pieces apart from each other.

There was a slight noise as the window popped open with a slight force, the grinning shadow pulled his clawed fingers free, and let himself in. Searching amongst the cabinets and glassware, the smell of reagents and strong acids filled the darkened air as he searched. It did not take him long to find the quarry of his hunt; he knew the insides of this place well, as he had foreseen them in his crystal ball.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Standing on his hind legs He opened the cap gently and removed the hardened yellow contents by trying to hook them with his claws, when he got one he turned to place them in a bag that he-

Darwin could have hit himself as the jar tipped over, spilling its hard contents everywhere in a rush.

He forgot the bag. He forgot to even get a bag to forget in the first place. This was a disaster, he groaned. How was he supposed to carry these blamed things with him back to his lair? the tools were easy, several items over a long period, by the time anyone noticed he was long gone and had what he needed. But now...

He started looking around for a simple bag that he could carry off his prizes with; he spotted a simple coin purse hanging on a peg across the room. Perfect, not that he needed the money, but it was the right size for him. He wouldn't be making large hauls with it, but if he could wrap the surrounding belt just so.

He started creeping towards the small purse and trying to wrap the draw string around himself in a belt-like fashion; he had to make several windings, and sometimes got tangled, really he got tangled a lot. Cat's paws are nothing like human hands, thus he eventually was stuck on the ground tangled in leather and spitting fury about his clumsy body.

He eventually resolved to simply just carry the damn thing in his teeth when he left.

With that problem out of the way, he turned back to the major peak of his crime, stealing those pills and the mercury. The jar holding the hard sulfur tablets was easy, he'd knocked the jar over he'd turned and there were small hard stones of the stuff every across the floor and counter. He began sweeping them into the bag with a swipe from his paws, some part of him found it amusing but he tried to ignore it.

Next was the Mercury, thankful the jug was easy to spot, it was the biggest in the room, and likely the heaviest given its contents, so he began looking for the smaller ampoules that would be filled from the Larger basin. He found a smaller dropper jar close by, though he couldn't read the label he could tell by the heft it was full of mercury. It was a small jar, about the size of a man's ring finger, or about half the height of Darwin's shins in his Cat body.

He thought about simply tossing it to the floor but decided against that, as he might break it and would have to come up with something else in that case if it did. He leaped up next to it and puzzled over the method for a moment. He then bit into the glass with his teeth and hopped down from the counter.

He'd been using his mouth for a lot of things tonight, the thought vaguely disgusted him as he thought it. Carrying the vial over to the small bag, he set it down and rolled it into the bag.

He then gave a cursory glance about, hoping to find the salts he needed. But he had enough weight to carry, if he had to, he'd return for them.

He would have to grab a masons jar at some point, to contain the reaction, but could snatch that from a street potter in the morning. And then retrieve his salts later that night.

He yawned to himself and let his thoughts drift towards food for a moment, his small stomach growled as he huffed, taking his prized pouch and hustling out the window. He felt giddy in the open air, but the weight of his package reminded him of the grim power he was to establish.

He would smash the Devil, reclaim himself, and then maybe get a nice hot meal and sleep for a week if he could. This whole affair was giving him a headache.