AN: I've always wanted to draw Croup and Vandemar…
Underground London was dribbling with cold, gloomy raindrops. This was enough to keep most people indoors, as if anyone who dared venture outside would catch a chill that would never go away.
Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar never got chills.
They had plenty of time on their hands; it was a great opportunity to find any unlucky souls wandering the streets early that evening. As usual, Mr. Croup was in the lead followed by Mr. Vandemar. Trudging along, damp sludges of rain would occasionally glisten on the shoulders of Vandemar's suit.
The taller and larger cutthroat stopped abruptly; his nostrils flared. Croup didn't realize that his partner stopped until they were about four yards apart.
"What is it?" Croup asked, as he walked back.
"Something's here," Vandemar mumbled. He was facing toward an alleyway on their right.
The shorter cutthroat made his way into the alleyway, saying, "Come out, come out, wherever you are…" He paused to look around. Nothing. As he went deeper into the alleyway his voice became louder. "I don't see anything, Mr. Vandemar. Perhaps you're just hungry and smelt a rat–"
A trash can toppled over.
Behind the toppled trash can was a small girl, no older than five years.
Croup grinned. "Why on earth are you to sitting alone out in a cold, wet place like this, little girl?"
The girl didn't respond.
Mr. Vandemar's stomach growled.
A/N: Feel free to review.