04 February 2010
One Score and Four, Hour Twenty Two-and-a-Half: Wherein Likely is Debriefed
10:30am, 29th of January, 1891.
IT WAS clear from the Anti-Hat League’s latest threat that their forthcoming ‘crowning achievement’ was going to be an audacious attempt on the most powerful hat in the Empire – the crown of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria…an attempt I would thwart if it was the last thing I ever did.
Miss Felicity Boondoggles and I wound our way through the headquarters of the Criminal Underworld Neutralisation Team (or CTUN for short, to prevent people passing out in shock at the actual acronym), until we turned a corner into another dull corridor, at which point Felicity suddenly stopped short, and quickly pulled me into a nearby room.
It was pitch-black in the room, and I felt Felicity’s hand leave my arm. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll go and turn the lighting on.”
There was a momentary silence, save for the gentle click-click sound of a gas-lamp being lit, and then the room was bathed in a warm glow.
“Right, ”tis time we made sure you were properly equipped…oh!” Felicity said, tailing off as she turned to face me, only to find me standing in the doorway with my trousers and underpants around my ankles, my Lord Palmerston hanging freely betwixt my legs.
“As you can clearly see, my dear, I am very well equipped indeed!” I smiled, raising an eyebrow.
“Gracious! Cover yourself up, sir! What on earth do you think you are doing?” she gasped.
“Well, when you dragged me in here I naturally assumed it was to ravish me senseless, m’dear!” I protested.
“No! NO! I wanted to collect some items from here – the CTUN control room!” she said with a flourish, affording me the first proper look at my surroundings. The room was full of large, imposing machines, replete with a multitude of buttons and levers, their cogs churning, pistons pumping, and steam issuing forth from pipes hither and thither. ‘Twas rather akin to stumbling into a clockwork orgy, or something.
“Egad! What in the name of mechanized arse is all this?” I spluttered.
“This is our central computation device. We keep files on all of the Empire’s most-wanted felons in here.” Felicity explained, tapping the side of one of the contraptions with almost maternal pride.
“Oh, really?” I sighed, my distinct lack of interest permeating my voice like a cannon-ball tearing through a giant, wet tissue. “Do please show me!”
“Fine! I shall!” snapped Felicity, pulling a lever beside her. The machine creaked into action; wheels turned, gears crunched, sparks fizzed, a horn blew, steam gushed forth and then…a little drawer slid open before me, filled with brown-coloured files. Felicity smiled, rifled through them and then drew one out triumphantly. “See? Rather impressive, yes?”
“It strikes me as nothing more than a rather elaborate filing cabinet,” I observed haughtily.
Felicity shot me an angry glare, and opened the file in her hands. “Here, look,” she said, thrusting a photographic print into my hands. “This is the ring-leader of the Anti-Hat League – Samuel Ben-London. I think if we can put him out of action, the entire group will swiftly tumble behind him.”
I gave the picture a cursory glance, and noted that the fellow in question was the same thin-moustached miscreant who had been masquerading as a waiter at Muddick’s gala ball. I had despised him then, but now I knew he was the mastermind behind a despicable plot to explode the monarch’s crown, I LOATHED him and wanted his HEAD on a very, very sharp SPIKE. ABLAZE.
“Right, let us dilly-dally no more!” I resolved, straightening my tie, and adjusting my trousers. “We must put a stop to this terrible plan IMMEDIATELY! Now, where did you put my possessions, m’dear? I cannot help but note that I am lighter to the tune of one pistol, one cane, my top-hat and my hip-flask of whisky. Oh, and my man-servant, Botter.”
“All your belongings have been stored away safely since we bought you here, your lordship.” Felicity stated, turning another lever. Machinery jolted into action once more, and then a cupboard door swung open next to me, with my personal effects located within.
“Ah, good,” I nodded. “And Botter?”
“‘Tis as I said, all your belongings have been stored safely away,” Felicity replied, flicking a switch. Another cupboard door fell open, to reveal Botter stashed inside, like a rather unsightly item of luggage.
“Good mornin, your lordship!” he smiled, as he struggled out of the cupboard.
“Well, marvellous, I have everything I need, so -” I began.
“Not quite,” Felicity interrupted, spinning a dial on another wretched contraption. Another drawer noisily slid out a recess within a wall, laden with various items and objects. “You shall need some extra fire-power, your lordship.”
“This,” I said, picking up an umbrella from the drawer. “This is an umbrella, my dear.”
“Not quite,” said Felicity, grabbing the brolly from my hands. She held it out at arm’s length, pressed a button on the handle, and a jet of fire blazed out from the umbrella’s tip.
“Heavens!” I exclaimed. “This shall prove extremely useful for flambéing. I dare say I could toast a beggar in SECONDS with this thing!”
“Then there is this,” Felicity continued, taking a fob-watch from the drawer. “While it looks like an ordinary fob-watch, it actually is not…” Felicity turned the dial on the watch, causing some rather sharp spikes to pop out around the outside of the base. Then, holding onto the chain, Felicity spun the watch out across the room, until it embedded itself in a wall.
“Impressive,” I noted. “And let me hazard a guess,” I said, picking up what appeared to be a large dildo from within the drawer. “I suppose this contains some sort of compact cannon within it, which can blast holes through walls, hmm?”
“No,” Felicity answered, taking the dildo from my hands. “It brings me to a screaming orgasm whene’er I thrust it deeply and repeatedly within my aching mimsy. Now, choose your weapon, your lordship, and let us go and save Her Majesty!”
I watched Felicity leave, my mouth positively AGOG.
- Lord Likely.
* VOTE NOW! Which weapon should Likely take with him on his mission to save the Queen? The flame-throwing brolly, the razor-spiked fob-watch, or the…um…dildo? Leave a comment below, or vote on Twitter (using the #1score4 tag) or on Facebook! Be fast, dear readers – TIME is RUNNING OUT!
ALSO! Lord Likely himself has granted an EXCLUSIVE interview with the lovely ladies at ErgoFiction magazine! The resulting spectacle may be perused by clicking right here! HUZZAH!