The Reptilian Rites of Dokter Krow ================================== Chapter 1: The Rather Long Bit of Exposition --------------------------------------------- A crouching figure scuttles through the darkened streets of London, cackling to himself in a guttural, unknown tongue. The streetlights illuminate briefly the form of a dwarvish shape, it's shadow lent a sinister aspect by it's misshapen head. Still cackling, the figure makes unsteady progress down the street. Lights. The screeching of tires. A motorcycle races past, mounting the pavement as the dwarven figure huddles in a darkened doorway. The rider makes a frantic attempt to force a package into a postbox. Frustrated, he settles for throwing it into a litter bin. He makes to ride off. A shot rings out. With a screech of metal, the rider slides across the road. Two more motorcyclists approach. One dismounts, walks up to the prone rider, and, with cold efficiency, shoots him through the head. A brief search of his clothing is interrupted by the sound of approaching sirens. The two assassins ride into the night. The shadowy creature scuttles up to the litter bin. Lying amidst the rubbish is a jiffy bag. He reaches for it...just as the police car arrives. Lights illuminated the crouching figure. Scarcely 4'6", hair teased into a grotesque parody of a horned head, the face studded with piercings and marked with tattoos. A gurgling stream of obscenities issue from it's misshapen, studded lips. This is Fletch Clenchworthy. He's one of the good guys. ------------------------------------------ 'Morning George!' 'Morning Basil!' 'How's the leg?' 'Oh much better thanks. I'm getting around quite well now. See, I can walk just as well as I ever...' '...could you give me a hand up old chap?' 'Not to worry George, our pedestrian days are behind us!' 'You mean...?' 'Passed my driving test, George. First time, very pleased. I'm a natural, apparently. Chap seemed a bit confused though...asked him where the gun mountings would go. Didn't seem to know.' 'Well, this is excellent news. Now all we need is a...' 'Car?' 'A car, indeed! Perhaps we could go and buy one...' 'Now?' 'Now!' 'Huzzah!' 'Basil...could you perhaps...?' 'Of course old boy.' ------------------------------------------- 'Father...Father o'Patrick?' 'Yes doctor?' 'How are you feeling father?' 'Oh very well indeed, my son...very well...thanks be to God!' 'Good...good. It's just that you've been here three months now Father, and, well...we don't think there's very much more we can do for you.' 'Excellent news, doctor. That'll give me even more time to spend on my rounds, giving spiritual comfort to the patients.' 'Yeeeees. Well, we were wondering - London being a big city of course - if perhaps there weren't people *elsewhere* that might be in need of spiritual comfort? People - outside - of this hospital.' 'Of course...why there must be millions of souls in need of comfort out there! I shall leave right away. Perhaps I can make some arrangement to come back and visit? Once a week?' 'No, no, really...' 'More often?' 'NO. I mean...it's very kind of you...but it really won't be necessary.' 'I understand. Well, I'll just make a final round...say goodbye to everybody....' 'No, no father. Please. It's really not necessary. Really, I think it's best if you just go...' 'Now?' 'If you would, Father.' 'I'll just fetch my bags.' 'I have them right here Father.' The doctor watched Father o'Patrick make his way out through the hospital doors, across the car park, and out of sight into an uncertain future. Mopping his brow, he turned to face the ward. Terrified faces in rows of beds stared imploringly at him. 'It's okay everyone. He's gone.' ------------------------------------------------- 'Sarge?' 'What is it?' 'We've got some suits out front. Regarding the little bloke we brought in last night.' 'Oh yeah, drunk and disorderly right? The guy who saw the shooting?' 'Yeah. Seems they want to take him off our hands. Prevention of Terrorism Act.' 'You're joking?' 'Straight up. Got the papers here. They also want a transcript of the interview.' 'Oh right, that's gonna be useful isn't it? "Ahhmmnodrunk...ahmmmjestgayinghame....nawIcannarememberwurrrIlive....ahhhfeckingluvyouyaweegiebastad". This guy couldn't terrorise his way out of a bottle of Buckie! Oh well, it'll get him off our hands, go and get him out of the drunk tank.' -------------------------------------------------- 'Ah, Mouldy. Come in' 'How're things sir?' 'Oh pretty good Agent Fox. Can't complain. Now then...seems a bit of work has come up for you in the UK again, so you'll need to be packing you're bags.' 'What is it sir?' 'Not sure. Basil Exposition said it was too sensitive to discuss over the phone. Also requested you round up those two academics you work with.' 'Right you are sir.' 'Now then Agent Fox...do you remember this?' 'The bowler hat sir?' 'The bowler hat. And what does it mean?' 'By Any Means Necessary sir?' 'Correct. Now...do you recognise this?' 'It's a straw boater sir' 'A straw boater. But not just any straw boater, Agent Fox.' 'No sir?' 'No. This is the Straw Boater of Extreme Discretion.' 'And very fetching it is too sir.' 'Thank you Agent Fox. Just to check....what hat am I wearing?' 'The Straw Boater sir.' 'And that means?' 'Extreme Discretion sir.' 'Excellent.' ------------------------------------------------------ 'Come in' 'Dr Lewis?' 'Hello Nathan, what's up?' 'Just had a call from Mouldy. Seems the feds want us to go over to England for a while, some work to do with Sebastian's outfit. Short notice and all but they seem to have arranged a sabbatical for me. Shouldn't complain...CNN wanted me to go to Kuwait for a bit.' 'When do we leave?' 'Tonight. Short notice, as I said.' 'Not to worry. Just enough time to pack then.' As Nathan left, Dr Lewis took her tazer from it's desk charger. Deliberately, she pricked her finger on the tips of the darts, and shuddered with an almost sensual pleasure as she delicately sucked the blood from her fingertip. She loved field trips. --------------------------------------------------- Clenchworthy ran through the streets. Handcuffs fer chrissakes! Bunch o' feckin' amateurs. The regular polis weren't so bad, but nae way was he gettin' in an unmarked car with three suits. He'd slipped the cuffs in an instant and was awae daen the street before these numpties had taem ta think. Now...jest whit was in that wee package the laddie stashed in the bin the last night? He retrieved the package. Jiffy bag. Excitingly chunky. The address on the front was a Mr C Dobson, at a PO Box. 'Mr Clenchworthy?' He hadn't noticed the car approaching. A nondescript blue Mondeo, the driver wearing a dark suit and sunglasses. 'Ya whit?' 'Come with me, if you want to live.' Clenchworthy looked around. The three numpties couldnae be far away. This seemed like a better option. He got into the car. 'Good man. I apologise for the inconvenience Mr Clenchworthy, but I hope this whole situation will soon become a whole lot clearer. To all of us. The answer, I suspect, lies in that package.' 'And jest who may you be?' The driver smiled. 'Why don't you call me....Colin?' ------------------------------------------------------- 'You look strangely...different...this morning Sebastian' 'Crushed blue velvet is *so* last season Bazzers. No...I've decided orange is where it's at. D'you like the cravat?' 'Very dashing.' 'No kidding Baz Baby! Gives them something to hang onto as well!' 'Um. Right.' 'So what's all this about then?' 'Mr Dobson will explain. We've taken the decision to re-assemble your team from the Roslyn incident. Felt it would be useful to have everyone on board.' 'Everyone? Even the chick with the enormous...' 'Dr Lewis is here, yes.' Basil Exposition ushered Sebastian into the E-Branch war room. A chorus of greetings from the battle-hardened team met the ears of the dashing agent. 'So what's going down Bazzers?' Exposition motioned for silence, as Dobson entered the room, a scuttling, mishshapen figure trailing after him. 'Gentlemen...Dr Lewis. Let's not waste time here. This man is...' 'Jaysus, there's a ****in priest here!' 'Mr Clench...' 'Ma gawd, hev you *ever* seen an a*rse like thet on a wummin before!!!' 'Please Mr...' 'And whoos thet beg poove?' 'That is Agent Sebastian Travers. As I was saying, this is Mr Fletch Clenchworthy.' 'Feltch!' 'I'm sorry?' 'Feltch!! 'sno Fletch! Feltch!' '...this is Mr...?' 'Feltch!!!!!' 'Feltch?' 'Thas'no a request bytheway!' '...Mr Feltch Clenchworthy. Last night he witnessed the murder of Agent Michael Cole. We don't know who the assassins were, or their motive. We do know that Mr Clenchworthy was under orders to be held under the Prevention of Terrorism Act - orders that must have come from someone in a very senior position indeed. Now we have no idea what Agent Cole was working on - he was not currently assigned to an investigation. But the answers, I suspect, will be found here...' Dobson tore open the jiffy bag. Inside lay a video tape, a roll of film, and a small piece of paper. 'OK. We'll get the film developed ASAP. In the meantime...we have a flyer for a nightclub...' The ad was for a nightclub. The Dungeon. It depicted two young ladies, barely dressed in rubber/leather gear, holding whips in a mildly suggestive way. Sebastian raised an approving eyebrow, and adjusted his trousers. The flyer was passed around the table. Father o' Patrick hastily shifted his gaze with a scarcely concealed expression of disgust. George gently, but firmly, removed the flyer from Basil Rathbone's sweaty hand. 'I say!' 'Indeed!!!' 'When can we go?' 'Now perhaps?' 'Now?' 'Huzzah!' Dobson motioned for the party to take their seats again. Reluctantly, and with some murmuring of discontent, they did so. 'Perhaps - we ought to watch the tape first.' The tape was of poor audio/visual quality. Sebastian shook his head. Had these people never heard of DVD? No special features? No commentary. Ah...Blue Laser...surely that was the way forward... 'Sebastian?' 'Er. Sorry...I was miles away. Could we see that again.' Dobson sighed, and rewound the tape. It was only a few minutes in length. Seemingly shot in an underground cavern, four robed figures stood around a naked male figure, chained to a stone altar. A low chanting could be heard in the background. As the sound rose in crescendo, one of the figures stood forward, and plunged a curved dagger again and again into the chest of the victim. Even through the poor sound quality, the screaming was dreadful to hear. The worst part came immediately afterwards, as the four robed figures fell upon the body and began to eat it. At this point, a muffled 'Jesus Christ' could be heard on the soundtrack, and the picture died. 'My God.' When developed, four photographs were found on the reel. Shots of an open door, seemingly the entrance to an old house. In each photograph, save the fourth, a figure was visible. They were passed around. 'That's Denham...DD Denham, the industrialist.' 'And this guy?' 'No idea...anyone? OK, never mind.' 'Shit!' 'Mr Dobson?' 'This one's Porter. John Porter. The Minister of Internal Security. He has ultimate responsibility for this department.' 'And the fourth photo?' 'Dunno. Maybe Cole just screwed up the shot.' A brief discussion ensued. E-Branch would attempt to improve the quality of the tape and the photographs in the hope of finding a clue to location, and identifying the unknown man. In the meantime, with the lack of any other leads, a crack undercover team will be assembled to penetrate The Dungeon nightclub. This team comprises *everyone* except for Nathan, who will remain at E-branch and monitor the covert operation via video link. 'How about you Seamus?' 'I think not, my son!' 'Oh come one, you'll fit right in - hell, you won't even need to buy any 'gear'!' 'No, no, may the Lord smite me if I venture into a house of sin. No, I shall visit the soup kitchens in the area. There must be many mouths to fill.' 'Oh behave padre!' Silence for a moment. Then Basil Exposition spoke. 'If this is true...if Porter is involved....then this operation is going to require Extreme Discretion.' Mouldy smiled. An image of a straw boater came to mind. Chapter 2: Penetrating the Dungeon of Pain ------------------------------------------- The proprietor of "Bobby's Bits" whistled as he locked up the doors of his clothing emporium. It had been a good day. Six customers at once, and he'd shifted a lot of stuff. Hunting gear, chains, collars, thongs, rubber, leather...these guys were game for anything. He smiled. Undercover cops. You could spot them a mile off. ------------------------------------- 'Tally-Ho!' 'Tally-Ho everyone! Aren't you cold Mr Travers?', Basil regarded Sebastian, dressed only in a crushed orange velvet suit and skimpy thong. 'Not at all Baz. This is the finest quality material you know. Lightweight, yet surprisingly warm. Feel the quality of that, eh?' 'Ooh, yes. That's very warm isn't it?' 'Er. I meant the jacket Basil.' 'Oh. sorry.' 'See the game last night?' 'Oh yes...hell of a game...hell of a game...!' ----------------------------------------- The party entered The Dungeon. An eclectic mix of 80s goth and nu-metal blared. Clenchworthy strained at the leash. 'Wull you noa mind lettin' me off thus chain mister?' 'Of course Mr Clenchworthy. Off you go. Now don't go too far or you'll feel a taste of my crop!' 'Poove!' ----------------------------------------- 'What are we watching here?'. The speaker was Bradley Jackson, the E-branch agent assigned to the night watch with Nathan. 'Everybody seems to be circulating. This is Basil's camera. Ah, look, that's Mr Clenchworthy.' 'What's he doing?' 'Dancing. Badly. Wait a minute, he's taking his wig off...' 'Jesus! What are those?' 'Horns! Implants. Well...I hope they're implants. Wait a minute. Oh christ...he's got a knife. What the****?' 'Is he...scalping himself?' 'Yup. Looks very impressive. The crowd seem to like it. Unfortunately the bouncers don't seem to...' 'They've only been there two minutes and it's gone wrong already!' Nathan chuckled. 'I don't think so Bradley...this is just the way these guys work.' -------------------------------------------- 'Yabasstads that ye are!!!' Clenchworthy picked himself off the street, where he'd been unceremoniously dumped by the bouncers. 'Showerofbastads y'all!!!' The rear door of the nightclub was securely locked. Still, there had to be an alternative entrance. He began to scale the wall... -------------------------------------------- 'This is Basil's camera. He's moving pretty fast. So far he's threatened the owner with a gun, robbed the safe, and locked him in the office along with two of the bouncers.' 'This is all going wrong isn't it.' 'No, no Mr Jackson...it's just the way these people work.' -------------------------------------------- 'We don't get many visitors up here do we boys?' Seb looked around. He'd cruised a lap of the club, taking in dancefloors and some discreet little dark rooms, but this was different. The room was lined with red velvet, and the music had switched to Beethoven. Three young men in white suits and bowler hats were sat on a red plush sofa, drinking expensive looking cocktails. The speaker had a discrete flash of makeup under one eye, and spoke with a mannered cockney accent. 'I'm Alex. Magic Alex. These are my friends Eric and Nigel.' 'Sebastian.' 'Sebastian. I once knew a sailor of that name. Care for a drink Sebastian?' 'Thanks. So...is this your place then?' 'The room is ours, yes. The club likewise. Well - we don't strictly speaking own it. We more sort of...administer it...' ------------------------------------------- Clenchworthy surveyed the rooftop. A chimney. Perfect. With cat like agility he lowered himself into the aperture... ------------------------------------------------ 'This is strange. Clenchworthy's camera seems to have gone dead. No...wait a minute...I can see something...just brickwork....' ------------------------------------------------ 'George?' 'Hello Basil...this is Tiffany. She's my new special friend.' 'Hello Tiffany' 'Hello...Basil' 'Fine filly George...any room for one more on top?' 'Oohhhh...yes please...' 'Found anything Basil?' 'Five hundred pounds and a small wrap of cocaine George. Liberated from the proprietor. Nothing else I'm afraid. I've got him locked in his office even as we speak.' 'Basil?' 'Yes George?' 'When you locked the gentleman in his office...did you perhaps notice if he had a telephone in there?' 'I suppose he might have.' 'Ah. Bugger.' ----------------------------------------------- Jackson put the phone down. 'There's a report coming in of an armed robbery in progress at The Dungeon. They've sent an armed response unit.' Nathan put his head in his hands. 'OK. *Now* things have gone wrong...' ----------------------------------------------- Father o'Patrick sipped happily at a refreshing cup of tea. A few hapless souls sat slumped in chairs around the soup kitchen. It had been a good night. He'd been touched by the simple kindness of ordinary people, who dropped by for a cup of coffee, and to make a small donation. Why, he'd even had a pleasant conversation with a rather threatening looking biker with tattooed knuckles, who'd just dropped by for a cuppa, and to enquire as to the health of some of the unfortunates. His peaceful vigil was interrupted by the wail of sirens. He shuddered at the unmistakeable sound of a helicopter overhead, which stirred up unpleasant memories. Perhaps he ought to take a look outside. A crowd was gathering outside the nearby nightclub. Dozens of people, garbed in ungodly gear, were standing around looking very unhappy and rather cold, whilst a policeman with a loudhailer tried to control the situation. A partially-clad Sebastian Travers was remonstrating with one of the officers. He turned to give a cheery wave to the priest, and beckoned him over. Father o'Patrick shook his head, and decided to return to the soup kitchen... ------------------------------------------------- 'Mr Dobson?' 'Dr Macnamara? Do you know what time it is?' 'Sorry...there's been an incident at the nightclub. There's an armed response unit outside.' 'Shit. OK...give me five minutes to think of something and I'll call you back.' -------------------------------------------------- Mouldy put his head in his hands. Did it all have to end like this...arrested in a fetish club whilst wearing little more than a spiky codpiece and a broad smile? OK, not the time to panic...he looked around for a place to hide. A black cabinet stood at the back of the room. -------------------------------------------------- 'Any luck?' 'Don't know Bradley. Colin's going to call me back. Where've you been?' 'Sorry, just nipping for a ssip. What's going on now?' 'Clenchworthy's camera just shows this brick wall or something. He seems to be slowly sliding down it - it's quite magnetic to watch. Uh-oh...have we got a malfunction on Fox's camera? The screen's gone dark....' ------------------------------------------------- 'Cosy isn't it?' 'Shit!! Who're you???' 'We don't use names...in The Cabinet.' 'Ah.' ---------------------------------------------- 'Come along George....come along Basil' 'Where are we going Miss Tiffany?' 'I know somewhere to hide.' 'Off we go then...' 'Oooooh...thank you George.' 'Tally-Ho!' ---------------------------------------------- 'There's definitely something wrong with the linkup...Basil's camera has gone dead...and so has George's....' ----------------------------------------------- 'Hmmm...rather dark in here.' 'Is that you George?' 'Mr Fox?' 'Yes. Is Basil with you?' 'Yes...and our new special friend....' 'Oh good. For a moment I thought I thought I was going to get lonely in here. My new friend seems to be the silent type. Mr Rathbone?' 'Yes Mr Fox?' 'Would you mind not smoking in here?' ------------------------------------------------ 'Dobson must have sorted it - the police are moving out.' 'Excellent. Everyone seems to be moving back inside. Oh good...Basil, George and Mouldy seem to be back online. Still nothing from Clenchworthy though...' Nathan's mobile rang. 'Dr Macnamara. What's the situation?' 'Everythings's returning to normal - the police have moved out. Well done Mr Dobson!' 'What do you mean? I haven't done anything. I couldn't think what to do.' 'But then how....'. Nathan cast a quick glance at Jackson.'...oh never mind. It's sorted out now. We can talk it over later....' ------------------------------------------------- Sebastian Travers and Dr Lewis were huddled at the back of the DJ's booth, where strange, guttural sounds were issuing from behind the brickwork. 'Sssbasstad. feckinchimney. basstad. gemmeootofhearyasbasstads.' 'Mr Clenchworthy?' 'sthat you ya beg poove?' 'This is Agent Travers yes. Dr Lewis is with me.' 'Hugearsewummin. Fantastic. Gemmeootofhere. Thenk ah've gawt a handhawld...yep...ah'm climbin'up...neeerly there...arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhh.....' 'Wettaminnut...gawt my hands free noo. Awyes, ah'm awae...ah'm climbin...ah'm climbin....arrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhh...ahm fallin agin.....ahhhhhhhhhh' -------------------------------------------- 'More visitors! We're honoured, aren't we Nigel? Eric?' 'I'm George...this is Basil....' '....and this is our special friend Tiffany.' 'And what might Magic Alex be able to do for you gentlemen?' Basil sat down next to Alex, and slowly chopped out a line... 'Why don't we just have a little chat...eh?' ---------------------------------------------- 'Nathan? Dr Macnamara?' 'Father?' 'Yes...listen, I've just gone back to the flat. I think something's wrong - I mean, I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure the place has been bugged.' 'Hmmm. OK, just stay where you are...I'll contact the others. We'll check into a hotel for the night.' 'OK. Could you hurry it up a bit please? It's just...well...there's all these...*cards*....in this phone box...I'm getting some funny looks...' ----------------------------------------------- Later...much later...the party assemble to check into a nearby hotel. 'Good heavens! Mr Clenchworthy! Why, you look like a man who's fallen down a narrow chimney and spent over three hours attempting to climb out!' 'Assaboot the size of it aye...' 'Anything to report guys?' 'Plenty of things Mr Fox...Basil's little chat with Magic Alex proved most enlightening. However, it's been a rather long night, and I'm sure we can discuss this in the morning. Now Basil, there's you, me, and Miss Tiffany here...I think a single room should suffice don't you?' 'Absolutely George!' 'Good man. Goodnight everybody. Tally-Ho!!!' Mouldy surveyed the rest of the crack E-branch team....the leather...the thongs...the soot-covered bloodstained horned dwarf... 'Straw Boater....' 'My son?' 'Oh nothing Father...I'm going to bed.' The rest of the scripture remains to be unearthed. Here are some fragments that have been found and deciphered. ================================================================= From a chapter entitled 'Madness on the M1' I think nerves were a little frayed, especially those of the young down and out who having had a rough life, ending up on the street, eating out of bins and soup kitchens, was kidnapped by bikers, taken to a house in the country where he was tied to a bed by a bunch of strange folk who turned out to be Serpent people (who in turn were looking for ways to defend themselves from the power of the Yaggoreth from Pluto), who were in league with a bunch of power crazy humans who were going to sacrifice him on a rough stone alter by stabbing him with daggers and the eating his living body in order to be able to appeal to the ancient Serpent spirit Yig who would grant them the ability to take on his physical form, but instead of being sacrificed, he was rescued from the bed by a group of people consisting of two American academics, an FBI agent, a Catholic priest with an nasty set of knives of his own, two heavily armed victorian gentlemen with loud voices and excessive facial hair, a soot covered Glaswegian gnome and a man in a purple, crushed velvet suit, all of whom were arguing about killing/tying up the poor down and out guy they had just untied, proceeded to march him out of the building, where upon the two victorians shot and wiped out their own car in a blazing inferno as it was being driven away by two Serpent people, and then the man in the purple suit and the most heavily armed victorian drove away in a sports car with a Union Jack paint job whilst everyone else piled into a people carrier and progressed down the motorway at 60mph because the driver was American and thought he was going 5mph over the limit anyway, following which the nervous looking woman with the huge behind, made an unprovoked attempted to shoot the down and out with her tazer, misses, narrowly misses the sooty gnome, narrowly misses the driver and finally narrowly misses the woman herself. The gnome then bring forth a big axe and attempts to kill the woman, the driver slams on the brakes, slews across the motorway into the hard shoulder, catapulting the gnome into the windshield. The police arrive and have argument with victorian doctor about the state of the unconsious gnome, call an ambulance, whilst the FBI agent and the academics try to tell the police why they should let everyone go, whilst the victorian doctor explains that it is a plot by the Serpent people who are using humans against the Yaggoreth of Pluto but are themselves being used by the mad humans, including the head of UK internal security, whilst the group are now plotting to kill/maim the aforementioned police so they can all escape as they are in a hurry to get to a secret laboratory in west london to kill a guy who is developing a secret and utterly deadly strain of the plague... ...and you thought you were having a bad day! --- More from 'Madness on the M1' ... so we taser one policeman, karate chop the other and then place them back in their car to avoid drawing suspicion ... then think better of it and place one policeman's head in the other's lap ... then shoot the radio so if they do come round they can't radio ahead and set up road blocks ... then check for mobiles so they can't phone ahead and set up road blocks ... then shoot the nearest emergency phone so they can't phone ahead and set up road blocks ... then shoot each emergency phone we pass so they can't ... ... whilst keeping our fingers crossed that if they do come round they don't walk in the opposite way to the flow of traffic where we haven't shot any emergency phones. --- Even more from 'Madness on the M1' I also seem to remember I had to anaesthetise the down and out as he became hysterical. Can't think why. I nearly had to do it to DaveB and Rob as well for that matter. I also seem to remember that Rob was going to drive until I pointed out that a) he couldn't see over the dashboard, b) he had been bitten by a Serpent person and c) he was high on sedatives administered by me to help with the bite. Still we probably would have got to the lab at the same time. --- FIN.