Prof. Jericho Wahl
|
 |
« Reply #2 on: May 01, 2017, 08:21:12 pm » |
|
Chapter Five:
Frankly, this isn’t the first time I’ve wondered at the way Miss Penelope’s brain works. I mean, I have no doubts what so ever at her abilities to make things happen, I just sometimes worry at the wisdom of them. I mean, I’m not exactly what polite society would call a prude, and we have worn plenty of not much in the line of duty before, but… I stare at our reflection in the dressing room mirror, and don’t know what to make of what’s staring back: pin curled pigtails, hair bows and ribbons, matching black and white pinafore dresses, white tights, each revealing more thigh than I know quite well is legal. I’ve heard of private limehouse shows like this: Gilbert and Sullivan are great patrons. “Sooo… lower east side then?” Miss Penelope tuts me while fixing one of my hair bows. “Don’t be silly, Pru- to the world we’ll appears as precious moppets. No older than 8 or 9. Perfectly acceptable attire for that age.” I cast a dubious glance at the vast expanse of her blouse top, long a subject of acute envy on my part, and sigh. “8 or 9. If you say so, miss.” “I say so, miss.” She then stands back and appraises me with something that looks like motherly pride. I blush a bit. “So what’s the plan again?” she quizzes. This is the part that I relish. This is me in my element. “I act the right brat. Scream, fuss, throw a tantrum. Draw attention. You know, typecasting.” “While I work the crowd, picking pockets and lifting watches all the while acting the poor put-upon older sibling”. The idea is to not get caught by anyone other than those who know what their looking at, meaning the NeverAfter, and impress them with our slight of hand. But it has to be finessed just right and not look too slick, or they’ll either get suspicious, or not want to take us under their wing. It’s a big gamble any way you look at it, but I think we’re up for it. I feel that impish grin again. “I WANT A LOLLY!” I shout, jumping right into character. “What? Oh Prue, not yet, wait until-“ “I WANT A LOLLY!” “Prue…” “I want a lolly, vanilla crème with strawberry swirls! I want one, or I’m tellin’ mum I saw you snogging Harrison March in the back seat of the speedster!” “That’s not cute, Prudence…” “And I’ll tell her you was making all sorts of funny noises back there, too! I WANT A LOLLY!” And she buys me one too, as big and round as my head. Ah, I love theater…
Chapter Six:
The way Tinderbox figured, humans were just naturally predisposed toward being dumb. The bigger the head, the more air there was between the ears. It’s wasn’t their fault really, it was just physics. So while she had to admit putting her in an old jam jar neck-deep in water to keep her from igniting was indeed clever, puncturing air holes in the lid was not. The water might have prevented her from lighting up, but it didn’t take away her natural strength, and the ventilation made for perfect hand grips to unscrew said lid. Q.E.D. She looked around and fretted a bit. She had to hide, and soon. Tinderbox was an EmberSprite, part of a supposed mythological genus of elemental-based fairy creatures. They were human-like in appearance, and, well, small; usually no more than five to six inches tall. Her would-be jailers would return to check on her soon. They seemed fascinated with her, and would just stare, swearing oaths of disbelief. Thoroughly soaked, she needed to dry out a bit before she could use her wings again. Then there was that bothersome detail involving, what were those called again? Friends. She had to rescue them. “Drying out” was proving problematic, however, as Avalon was currently experiencing one of its signature summer storms, and the ancient factory had plenty of ventilation all its own. The rata-tat-tat of the downpour on the vast tin roof above was deafening. Hugging her knees to her chest, Tinderbox curled up and tucked herself away on a cold metal storage shelf, weighing her options and attempting to formulate a plan. The two-day old newspaper underneath her did little more than keep her bottom warm. Mostly. That is, until she noticed the headline: “GOVERNESS AND CHUAFFEUR BRAVELY “BAG” RUNAWAY PARADE BALLOON”. “Parade balloon? “Pfft. The fire-fairy had to roll her eyes at the accompanying photo- if that wasn’t a rampaging Jabbersnatch, she was The Tooth Fairy. Her low regard for human intelligence was duly reinforced. But it was the young lady with the bumbershoot in the photo that caught her attention. She knew that bumbershoot. Any Fair-folk in the know (which was any Fair-folk, period) knew Penelope Goodnight. Suddenly Tinderbox lit up like a firecracker, sparks flying from excitement. She had a plan! Mostly.
Chapter Seven:
Nellie Bliss and her younger brothers were huddled together and chained down to the factory floor, each link of the chain as big and heavy as a ship’s anchor line. They were hidden away in what used to be the factory’s boiler room, out of the summer storm, but swallowed up in pitch blackness. The air was stifling, warm and damp. Musty, like rain after a forest fire. Yet it was as if it were the dead of winter, the way each sibling shook with fear. The youngest, Princess Larkspur, vainly attempted to hold back tears as she clung tightly to her elder sister. Nellie and her brother, Reginald, cooed and coddled her as best as their shackles would allow, each wanting to reassure the miss that their friend BrambleJack would soon come to their rescue, as he had done countless times before. But was it not in fact the Forever Boy who put them there in the first place? “For safekeeping” he said with a sneer, in dark parody of his usual merry tone. “That was not Jack,”, Nellie secretly whispered to herself. Indeed it seemed as though Bramblejack had “not been himself” for quite some time. It was small things at first; an unkind word, a sharp physical reaction, all barely noticeable. But soon the “marks” became more high-profile, the scams more dangerous, and Jack, ever more ruthless. So they stood up to him, refusing to go any further. It wasn’t fun anymore. Only to shortly discover themselves there, stolen from their sleeping beds. Suddenly, as if reading their very thoughts, the boiler room hatch door slammed open, revealing BrambleJack himself. However, far from being the dashing, swaggering figure he usually presented, this Jack was a feral, wild-eyed beast- hunched shoulders, labored breathing, snarling lips. His eyes fixed upon Nellie with an unmistakable hunger. He swooped upon her, giggling maniacally, taking an oversized skeleton key and frantically releasing her from her shackles. Then, as fast as he appeared, he made off with her, flying her high above to a factory catwalk. Nellie was firmly in BrambleJack’s clutches, unable to break his hold. Then, abruptly, he just… stopped. For Nellie an eternity seemed to pass in that single moment. Suddenly Jack’s eyes snapped wide open as awareness shot through him like a bolt of lightning. His body went rigid as her gasped for air, nearly choking on each breath. He fell, coughing violently. But while his mind was there, his body was still not his own. He continued to claw at Nellie’s dress, his face contorted by anguish and terror, great tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s SPIKE, blast him! He’s wormed his way into my mind! I can’t control it! I CAN’T CONTROL IT! NO!’ Fear caught in his voice as BrambleJack fought desperately against his actions. “It’s not me! I swear to God Nellie, it’s not me! You’ve got to get away from me, Nellie! Run! RUN!!” Pinned down beneath him, Nellie’s expression remained soft and forgiving as she said, “Oh Jack, you silly boy. Do you think I’ve forgotten everything you’ve ever taught me?” A savage right uppercut doubled with the choice insertion of her knee to her future husband’s sensitive areas knocked the poor boy out cold. Kneeling beside his unconscious form, she gently caressed his face and added, “I believe you sweetheart, I truly do. We’ll exchange apologies later”. She then reached down and unsheathed his short-sword from its scabbard and coldly regarded its tip with her forefinger and thumb. Whether he knew it or not, whether he believed it or not, Edmund Spike, criminal mastermind, lord of the underworld, was a dead man.
Chapter Eight:
I now know what a drowned sewer rat feels like. Well, minus the dead bit. And the smell. Shut up. After a full soggy day of pinched cheeks and swatted bottoms (lucky me), me and the miss have been no closer to finding our objectives than before, As fate would have it, however, that’s when one of our objectives finds us. Stings like a bee too, the cretin. Picking itself off the wet cobblestone street, it berarates us for being the clumsy, oversized beasts we are, chattering like a mad chipmunk. For the second time that day I just stand there, open mouthed,. It‘s the EmberSprite
It says, “WherehaveyoubeenIhavebeenlookingpforyoualldayI’mTinderboxI’mafriendofBrambleJackhe’sintroublewhyareyoudressedlikeprostitutes?” At least I think that’s what it says, After grabbing Penelope’s brolly, we wink into our normal outfits and give chase.
Chapter Nine:
Lunge. Thrust. Parry. Thrust. Spike and Nellie struck at each other with a ferocity unparalleled, blades clashing loudly, like thunder. Thrust, parry, strike! Nellie moved swiftly, matching Spike strike for strike. Spike smiled smugly, with a cool confidence. Nellie ducked Spike’s blow, BrambleJack’s shiv sure in her hand. “Ha! Is that the best you got, old man?’ Suddenly Penelope and the girls joined the fray, “Is this a private party, or can anyone play?” Nellie laughed and bowed to Penelope. “Be my guest. Miss Goodnight, I presume?” “Why yes, what gave me away? It was the hat, wasn’t it?” “That ain’t it,” Prudence snorted, ‘I call ‘em Alice and Leopold myself”. And the battle was joined. Tinderbox sighed. “No one say hello to the faithful sidekick, why don’t you?” This exchange of pleasantries did nothing for Spike’s mood- “Four against one, eh? How sporting of you.” Thrust, Thrust, Parry, Thrust. Penelope brandished her bumbershoot like a cutlass as she sliced the air. making a mockery of Lord Edmund’s maneuvers. “I’d say ‘touch’e, but I’m not sure you know what that means…” With a start, Spike lunged for Nellie, teeth gnashed, screaming, “ENOUGH!!’ Grabbing her by the throat, he held her by his sword and backed away from the group. “Don’t take another step closer.,,” Lord Edmund’s eyes grew wide. “No, DO come closer, give me another reason to run the trollop though! In fact, NEVERMIN-“ Lord Edmund’s eyes grew even wider then, as he stared at his chest and the business end of a sword protruding from it. “What-“ At the other end of the point was Mr. Pertwee. “You had to spoil it, didn’t you, Eddie? It used to be such Fun- YOU used to be such fun… ‘Travel the world’ you said, ‘play the bad guy, you said, “They’re just children, Eddie, kids! How could you…” Pertwee sobbed as his captain’s life slipped away.
Chapter Ten:
So we just stood there, in stunned silence. What was there to say? Thanks for killing your psychopathic boss? Over his shoulder, Pertwee said, “Go, Take your friends and go, Please”. And so we went, leaving the two of them in a pool of blood and rainwater,
Later;
BrambleJack and Nellie smooched. The End. That’s what you wanted to read, wasn’t it? But oh no, what you get is Nature Boy and his One True Love carping over the fact that he missed all of the action. Boys. When the fireworks subsided, we all made all of the proper introductions and the usual offer to join our group. Nellie was all for it, but Nature Boy just scoffed at the idea. That’s when Tinderbox spoke up: “Sign me up!” BrambleJack and his girl just stared at the EmberSprite, I yelp. “I’m tired of playing third fiddle around here” Tinderbox complained, and flew to Penelope, embracing her cheek. I yelp again, a little louder. Tinderbox and I then both sigh. For completely different reasons.
|