Kell as Agent Mouldy Fox
PJ as Father Seamus o’ Patrick
PhilM as Dr Elizabeth Lewis
Blob as Mr Felch Clenchworthy
Gray as Dr George Arbuthnot
DaveB as Inspector Isembard Montgomery
DaveG as Dr Nathan Macnamara
Sukh as Sebastian Travers
Rich as Basil Rathbone
Inspector Isembard Montgomery is assigned to investigate just why a well-respected academic has disappeared, following being captured on CCTV vandalising a rare book in the collection of the British Library. Investigating further, Montgomery discovers records of a one-way flight to Boston, MA, and a fake id and documentation requesting an interview with a Mr Michael Brander, incarcerated at Broadmoor. The name is unfamiliar to the inspector, but his superiors tell dark stories of undercover operations, covert organisations, and a place called ‘Mechanic Falls’….
Brander is unimpressed by Insp. Montgomery, and thinks that at the very least Travers or Fox would have come along to investigate personally. Nevertheless, he tells the dogged inspector that his advice was sought on a particular passage in a book known as the C’thaat Aquadingen. A passage detailing how a being known as ‘Great Cthulhu’ can be contacted in his prison city by his faithful acolytes. A passage that has now been neatly cut from the book…
The inspector heads for the USA, having been told to rendezvous with an Agent Mouldy Fox of the FBI.
‘Dr Macnamara?’
‘This is he.’
‘Basil Exposition here. Urgent job for you just come up. The Lebanon. Terribly important, at least that’s what Herr Schenk says.’
‘Shouldn’t you be talking to the Feds about this?’
‘Normally, yes. But Agent Fox can’t be spared at the moment. Instead we’re assembling a small team of crack operatives comprising yourself, Mr Rathbone, and Sebastian Travers.’
‘Why us three in particular?’
‘Well, your historical knowledge will prove invaluable. As will Mr Rathbone’s detective skills and propensity for extreme violence.’
‘And Sebastian?’
<pause>
‘Yes…well..we thought you could use his aircraft…’
Dr George Arbuthnot pauses from holding court at an appreciative audience of High School Archaeology and Gymnastic Students in order to consult the wine list.
It reads only, ‘Dr Arbuthnot…we’re needed…’
‘Hmmm…you know waiter, perhaps I’ll just have a dry Martini…’
‘MR CLENCHWORTHY?’
‘Awww ma heed…jest whit the feck ahm ah doin heer? An jest where the feck ahm I?’
‘IN TRANSIT, MR CLENCHWORTHY.’
‘’n who the feck are you? Hey, ‘sat a scythe you gawt there?’
‘MR CLENCHWORTHY…DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS UPON TRAVELLING TO THE UNITED STATES?’
‘Naw?? Whit’s this all aboot big man?’
‘YOU GAIN FOUR HOURS MR CLENCHWORTHY’
‘’sat right?’
‘MR CLENCHWORTHY…IF YOU FAILED TO RETURN FROM THE UNITED STATES…WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED?’
‘Ahm rilly no following this at all y’knoo…’
‘YOU’D HAVE GAINED FOUR HOURS…AND NOT RETURNED THEM’
<pause>
‘Naw…’sno happening pal, ‘as way over ma heid’
‘MR CLENCHWORTHY…I’M HERE TO HELP YOU UTILISE THOSE FOUR HOURS. JUST IN CASE…’
‘Riiiight…’
<pause>
‘FANCY A GAME OF CARDS’
Dr George Arbuthnot smiles happily as he gazes out upon the blue Pacific ocean. Ah, time for a restorative breakfast. He lifts a gleaming silver dome…
Atop a pile of bacon rashers sits a sheet of notepaper…
‘Dr Arbuthnot…we’re needed….’
George replaces the dome. Perhaps just tea and toast this morning.
‘Delivery for you Father.’
‘Er, thank you my son. But I don’t remember ordering anything?’
‘You Father o’Patrick of the Reformed Church of St Quentin the Slayer right?
‘Yes.’
‘Then this is for you. Just sign here please father…’
The priest examines the large packing case, and then the delivery note….’Sorry Father, but this seemed the easiest way to get him over there. Regards, Colin Dobson.’
From within the case, ominous noises can be heard…’jest get me the feck oot o thes feckin case somewhan, before someone gis a good kicken…’
Dr George Arbuthnot smiles as he breathes in the sea air, and surveys the golden sands. Happy, smiling families, young men eager to catch the first waves of the day. And quite a number of young ladies! Ah, Cassis, Chardonnay, good morning ladies! Harrumph!
And strangely, a man in a pin-striped suit, picking up stones, pebbles and driftwood, and arranging them into some sort of pattern. Working furiously, darting hither and thither to complete his work before all elements of it are washed away by the tide. Finally he rises to his feet, surveys his work, and dusts his hands off. Then, with a barely imperceptible nod in the direction of George, he wanders off.
George moves nearer, the seemingly random pattern of objects resolving themselves into words…
GEORGE GET THE HELL BACK TO BOSTON NOW!!!
George sighed. If they’d gone to the trouble of dotting the exclamation marks it was probably pretty serious.
Mouldy is assigned to investigate the case of The Lopper, a serial killer responsible for the death of three pyschologists in the Boston area.
At the University, Liz’s morning is rudely interrupted by a colleague of hers dousing himself in petrol and setting light to himself.
Isembard arrives in Boston, picks the wrong taxi firm to take him to FBI HQ, and ends up with a $500 bill and a fight. And also on the wrong end of a tazer, following a misunderstanding of ‘reaching into jacket in search of ID’. He is issued with a smart new pair of trousers.
Investigations reveal that Liz’s colleague had discovered something about himself that he felt unable to live with. Also correspondence with a student, a Zebulon Akeley, and references to a British academic bringing over a parchment. And references to something called the ‘Innsmouth Look’…
Checking out Innsmouth proves a little difficult. Fox has to get special authorisation as a lot of post-war information on the town is subject to an ‘omega tag’ and is extremely restricted.
It turns out that Innsmouth was ‘cleared’ back in the early 1950s following testimony that the inhabitants were inbred so much that they had ceased to be human. The town was forcibly evacuated, underwater locations near Devil’s Reef were – for some reason – depthcharged, and as for the fate of the town’s inhabitants…well…that information is not available.
The team encounter a shadowy figure, Vasili Yevtushenko. He reveals that he is ex-Spetznatz, now working ‘freelance’ because of his special talents. By cutting his own flesh he can read the future in the patterns made by his own blood. And he has seen that soon, someone will attempt to contact Great Cthulhu, sleeping in his great house at R’lyeh…already, he has seen the signs…throughout the world, those sensitive enough are already receiving disturbing dreams. Wow, think the team, another pyschic, and we thought E-branch had the only one…
So the team head off to the Innsmouth area for a look around. One of Kell’s FBI acolytes offers to mind the car while the guys go off investigating.
The area around here is ‘Deliverance’ central, full of decaying buildings and really weird looking bug-eyed folk. One geezer offers to take the team out to the old lighthouse. Why, what a kind old gentleman…
<10 minutes later, the scarcely breathing body of Felch Clenchworthy is dragged back onto the boat, Liz’s body spasms uncontrollably as a result of a stray tazer shot from Isembard, and the nice old geezer swims away underwater…>
Nothing much is found at lighthouse central, except for a few reptilian / humanoid thingies that are swiftly…well…eventually…put to the sword.
‘Reptilian/Humanoid thingies…’, thinks agent Fox. ‘Why did it have to be Reptilian/Humanoid thingies…’.
So the team return back to the shore and the safety of the waiting vehicle.
Perhaps inevitably, the unfortunate driver is headless, another victim of The Lopper!
The team pass an uneasy night, some of them suffering horrific dreams of a great, black cyclopean city, of two huge, carved doors, and a booming voice-that-is-not-a-voice….CTHULHU FTHAGN!!!!
In the morning, George takes a phone call. Reception isn’t great, and the sound of gunfire can be heard in the background.
‘Hello George!’
‘Hello Basil! How’re things?’
‘Pretty good old chap…<badooom>…good shot Sebbers…busy of course…’
‘Everything ok there?’
‘Couldn’t be better old chap…best fun since that Mechanic Falls place…<badooom>…<badooom>…’
‘Jolly good..’
‘…just that thought you might like to know…<badoom badoom badoom>…throw us the spare SMG Dr Mac…’bout a thousand crazies here all shouting this CTHULHU FTAGHN thingie….what’s that Dr Mac….oh sorry George, Nathan’s saying “don’t shout CTHULHU FTAGHN it only encourages them”…<badooom>…nice one Sebastian, don’t worry I’m sure it’ll wash out…anyway, yes, lots of chappies here all being driven insane by weird dreams and the like…thought maybe it’s something you might be able to sort out for us…I mean, no panic or anything.’
‘Doing the best we can Basil.’
‘I’m sure you are George. My goodness…is that…yes it is…what’s it called again? George, what do you call those big metal thingies on tracks with a big gun sticking out the top?’
‘A tank?’
‘A tank, yes, that’s the word. Righty-ho, got to rush. Toodle-Pip!’
‘Toodle-Pip Basil!’
So the team find themselves at a bit of a dead end. How can the investigation possibly progress from here?
And then inspiration strikes the ample figure of Dr Lewis.
‘Agent Fox…you know the chief suspect in the case…’
‘Mr Zebulon Akeley, yes.’
‘Well…we could go and check out his house.’
Silence as the impact of these words sink in. Then a frantic scurrying for the car.
At Akeley’s place, the team find correspondence with a certain archivist at the British Library. References to the ‘Innsmouth Look’. And a letter from a certain Professor F X Enderby.
Dr Lewis recognises Enderby as a lecturer in English Literature at the university, being blackmailed by Akeley for professional misconduct. Nothing terribly serious, but he just needed someone to store some boxes on his behalf for a couple of weeks.
Boxes revealing plans of a lighthouse off the coast of Innsmouth…
So the team plan to return to Innsmouth, and get tooled up in advance.
No, Inspector Montgomery, the FBI will not issue you with grenades.
Fine, Agent Fox, no problems, er I’m just popping out for half-an-hour ok…
No spare drivers are available, so the team set out in two people carriers. Isembard stashes a large and suspiciously dusty looking sack in the trunk.
On the way, the team decide to pick up a hitchhiker…bulging eyes, suspiciously inbred features etc. About ten minutes later, the Inspector realises that said hitchhiker is sitting directly behind him, prompting the line ‘OK…I admit that buying a box of grenades from a dodgy backstreet store may have been stupid…but THIS…is even more stupid…’
Surpringly, everyone arrives unscathed. The hitchhiker slithers off. And everyone is regarded with suspicion by a weird looking little kid on a bicycle.
Arrangements are made to hire a boat, and the party set off for the lighthouse to the accompaniment of a satisfying ‘put put put put’ noise.
Upon making landfall, Isembard and Fox make for the lighthouse. Upon entering, they are attacked by a Reptilian / Humanoid creature that PhilJ reveals is actually a ‘Deep One’, in order not to have to keep typing ‘Reptilian / Humanoid’ all the time…
Agent Fox, with distressing predictability, collapses in fear.
The creature lunges at Isembard, but trips and falls at his feet. Isembard smiles a cruel smile, and discharges a tazer at the prone creature…
….directly into his own foot…
On the shore, Clenchworthy has his own problems, his frenzied attack and ‘death from above’ screaming-like-a-bastard attack on the creatures having ended with him impaling himself on his own axe…
So, having lost the highly-trained FBI agent, the police inspector, and the psycho axe wielding maniac, the party have been reduced to a middle-aged archaeology professor, a catholic priest, and the limping and not terribly mobile figure of Dr George Arbuthnot…still…not to worry eh…
Having saved the unconscious Isembard and Fox from the Deep One in the lighthouse, and fought off the the creatures attempting to drag the horribly injured Clenchworthy into the sea, the crack squad of academics and theologians set off in search of the source of a sinister chanting, rising in intensity…IA! IA! CTHULHU FTHAGN!!!
The trail leads to the opposite side of the island, and a small passage in the rocks. Drs Lewis and Arbuthnot are beset by Deep Ones upon the way, but heroically fight their way to the entrance of a cave….inside which are dozens upon dozens of the creatures chanting at the feet of a humanoid figure, holding aloft a stone tablet. And within the cave a shape is forming…the shape of a bat-winged creature with an octopoid face…
Dr Lewis drops in terror, as George blazes away at the human figure. The tablet shatters…the figure turns upon him in a fury, before another well-placed shot drop him like a stone.
Silence for a moment, then the Deep Ones turn towards George and Liz. George tries to drag the professor out, but with his crippled leg, surely this is a hopeless task. Perhaps it will all end here, as the Deep Ones advance upon the helpless pair…
But then…
….a flash of burlap…
…the swirl of a cassock…
…a pin being pulled…
…a bag flying though the air…
….and a cry of ‘RRUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!’
<BADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!>
Later…
The team prepare to depart the Island of Death. Well, sort of. Felch tries to drag the gibbering Agent Fox into the boat. Agent Fox say he’s not getting on any damn fool boat. Felch persists. Agent Fox hits him with such force that Felch’s head nearly comes off his body.
The unconscious figures of Isembard, Felch, and a recently-anaesthatised Fox are loaded into the boat. From the cliffs of Innsmouth, a small child on a bicycle watches the party make their way towards the mainland.
George raises his Desert Eagle….
Wisely, perhaps, the child cycles off…