posted
They ran through the rain, hunched over for protection both from the weather and the possibility of attack.
When they reached the buildings, they set about breaking down the door. Harbi turned around to survey their rear, and noticed two stragglers, labouring their way across the muddy landscape. It was Joe & Betty. Conditions underfoot were treacherous, and they were making slow headway.
She ran back to help them and noticed that they were carrying a large object between them.
“What the bloody hell is this?” Harbi found herself screaming into the wind to make herself heard.
“It’s Frosty,” said Joe, as he laboured, in a tone that indicated to Harbi that she should know exactly who and what it was.
“And just why are you carrying Frosty, a nine foot stuffed Siberian tiger through the pissing rain into battle?” asked Harbi, incredulously.
“He’s the squad lucky mascot!” shouted Betty. “Yeah, where else should he be but with the squad in battle – he wouldn’t be very lucky for us if we left him in the ship, would he?” asked Joe loudly.
Harbi looked around, suddenly terrified for her life. She was stuck in the middle of very wet, muddy no-mans land, with two mad people and a stuffed tiger, and thoughts were starting to form in her head.
Thoughts she didn’t like.
“Whose bright idea was that?” she asked, still furtively scanning the surrounding area.
“Why, it was yours!” answered the twins together.
“It sodding was not!” exclaimed Harbi.
“Well, Mr. Hunt certainly said it was,” answered Joe.
“I’ll bet it was his idea that you put on those Manchester United tops as well, wasn’t it?” asked Harbi.
posted
Harbi and the two Spoonerisms darted across the open ground, keeping low so as to give a smaller target. Frosty had been abandoned to the elements, to be sucked into the rain-lashed landscape. The first casualty.
Harbi crashed through the remains of the door, into near darkness, where she ran into the tail members of the squad, knocking everyone to the ground.
“Strike!” cheered Joe, following her into the building.
“Right – where’s Mike Hunt?” shouted Harbi, picking herself up off the top of the pile of bodies.
Deadly silence. Apart from the scrape of people picking themselves up.
“Aw, come on boys, I’ll ask again. I’ll give you this one for free, guys, and it’s not many of those you get. Right,” Harbi started, speaking slowly, “has anyone seen Mike Hunt.”
Still nobody muttered a word, in fact they all looked at each other, expecting someone else to say the first word.
“Oh, come on. This is ridiculous. A line like that and no-one’s gonna pick up on it? All of the readers have been waiting for this line for about 2 months – you’re not going to let them down, are you? I’ll try once more. Has anyone seen Mi…”
“Yeah, yeah, okay Harbi, I’ll take the bait,” volunteered Sonnie. “Yes, and it was VERY scary.”
“Thank you, Sonnie,” replied Harbi with a resigned sigh.
“I thought it looked lovely and cuddly and warm and inviting.”
“Thank you, Numfy”
“No ma’am, but I wish I had,” said Napalm.
“Shit,” said Sonnie.
“Yeah, I have too,” said a voice from the bottom of the pile, face squished into the lino, “when you were in hospital under the influence of anaesthetic. I hadn’t realised that you were part Brazilian.”
Mike stood up and dusted himself off. When he looked up after finishing the dusting process he immediately wished he hadn’t. In the split second he had before he landed on his ass he saw Harbi, arms folded under her breasts, head shaking with a “that’ll teach ya” look on her face. She appeared to be sandwiched between the two rapidly enlarging fists heading towards his face – one each from Sonnie and Numfy.
“I thought you said that one was for free!” squealed Mike as he jumped to his feet, much to the amusement of the onlookers. One hand flew to his arse, to rub his heavily bruised coccyx. The other hand held his ruptured nose and tried to stem the blood flow.
“No, I said that I would give you it for free – I didn’t say how anyone else would take it,” explained Harbi.
“Ah, semantics,” said Mike, distastefully, shaking his head.
“Wait a minute,” said Numfy, getting all aggressive and having to be held back. “She’s no’ a Jew. Tell him Harbi, you’re Church o’ Scotland, aren’t you!”
posted
“We’ve lost our first member of the squad, I’m afraid,” said Harbi once the hilarity had died down.
Following the two second stunned silence everybody tried to speak at once.
“Oh no…” “ What happened…” “ Who….”
“Wait a minute, we’re all here!” said Sonnie who had done a quick head count.
“I’m afraid to tell you that we’ve had to leave Frosty behind to face the music,” said Harbi.
Once again everbody tried to talk at once.
“Oh no!” “What on earth was….” “What music? I don’t hear any….”
“Because somebody,” and here Harbi turned to face Mike, “told Joe and Betty that I had said it was a good idea to carry a nine foot stuffed tiger into a battlezone. Didn’t you Mike?”
Mike at least had the good grace to look sheepish about being foound out. Either that or he was trying to work his boyish charm on Harbi, and failing abysmally.
“Hey, has anyone seen my patented Wanker Detector?” asked Numfy. So saying he put his left hand flat out palm upwards. Then he pointed his right index finger out and balled the rest of his right hand into a fist, which he then sat on his left palm.
“Deet…….Deet……..Deet…….” came the sound effects as Numfy turned slowly around his colleagues and friends. His hands were steady.
The interval between deets became less, until, of course, he reached Mike.
“Deetdeetdeetdeetdeetdeetdeetdeet,” went the detector, as Numfys right hand bounced up and down on his left, pointing at Mike. Everybody fell about laughing, with the exception of Mike, who just stood there and looked daggers at Numf.
posted
“I suppose this means that we have to give him back the dry clothing he gave us,” said Spunkeater from the back of the group.
“What dry clothing is this, then?” asked Harbi.
“Well, he had a whole pile of dry football tops in a cardboard box that he took with him. I got an England 1966 World Cup winners top – you know, the red one,” said Spunkeater.
“Yeah, he gave me an Thailand top,” said Sonnie. “Cool, I was in Thailand last year you know!”
“And I got a Liverpool top,” said Numfy, chuffed to bits.
“I got a Washington Redskins top,” said Napalm.
“And the two Spoonerisms got Man Utd tops. Anybody else?” asked Harbi.
Drock had been given an Arsenal top. Ahole had been given a Spain top. Vaseline had been given a Portugal top.
“Hows about one for me, Mikey boy?” said Harbi. “Oh, look, an Aberdeen top. And yourself? Oh, right, a green-and-white-hooped Glasgow Celtic top. Well, that’s a surprise. You don’t sound Glaswegian, nor Irish, to me. And I haven’t seen you genuflecting either, so I’m guessing you ain’t no Catholic. “So, you’ve got one of the most instantly recognisable tops anywhere, and everybody else is wearing red, or thereabouts. Coincidence?”
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting, Harbinger. Hey, come on guys, stop crowding me!”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Harbi, “ most of these guys here are Trekkies, so they know the significance. So, we’ll all take off our new tops, and let you wear one of the red ones. How’d you like them bananas?”
“No, I couldn’t possibly do that. I’m allergic to man-made fabrics, I come out in a rash,” weasled Hunt.
“Well, the England ’66 top’s made of cotton, so you’ve got no excuses there,” said Spunkeater, taking off his recently aquired top and handing it across. Mike looked at Spunky like he was envisaging him drowning in slowly solidifying strawberry jelly. (Of the ice cream and jelly variety, not the peanut butter and jelly.)
“I’ll tell you what, Mike, put on your Celtic top and we’ll try an experiment,” said Sonnie.
“No, bugger off – you’re setting me up here,” protested Mike.
Sonnie reached out and stuck two fingers up Mikes already bloodied nose, lifting him up so that he was standing on his tiptoes. Mike held on to Sonnies arm, screaming for him to let go. Sonnie unceremoniously dumped him on his bruised coccyx.
Michael J Hunt squealed like a stuck pig.
“So. We don’t have to get nasty here do we Mikey-boy?” asked Sonnie, wiping his fingers on the back of his combat trousers.
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
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posted
I don't have a spare day and a half to hear about the Good Old Days, maybe next lifetime? Still ya Sonnie
Anymore coming soon Ken?
Bxx
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
One quick change of top later (well, not a Superman in a telephone box, but as quick as a whiny assed insurance man with a busted nose and a sore arse could manage), Sonnie shoved Mike back out of the door into the pouring rain. Lightning split the sky, showing quite clearly a very wet man standing in a puddle, green and white hoops clearly visible for miles around.
Nothing happened. The rain continued to fall. The mud continued to get gloopier. Time passed slowly. Three seconds later another burst of lightning split the skies, with the same effect. Mike hadn’t moved. Still nothing happened.
“Okay, you can come back in now!” shouted Harbi.
Mike dragged his sodden miserable body back under cover.
As soon as he was back inside, Sonnie thrust the ’66 top over his head, trapping his arms at his side, giving Harbi the opportunity to use the sleeves as reins. She made sure that none of the Celtic top was visible, and thrust him out the door. He was only out the door for about half a second before Harbi reined him back in by the sleeves, and slammed the door shut.
THUD THUD THUD THUDTHUD
Harbi opened the door to have a look, and everyone saw the three throwing stars and two oriental throwing spears stuck there, still a-quivering. She shut the door again very quickly.
“Well, at least we know there’s someone out there,” said Sonnie sarcastically.
posted
The Useless Squad moved backwards in formation, lasers pointed at the door. Harbi just stood there over the fallen body of the treacherous insurance man, feet wide, fists on hips, looking like the soggy hero that she was. She shook her head, looking at the cowering traitor in the foetal position, looking all the more ridiculous because he hadn’t managed to extricate his arms from the ’66 top. He looked scared.
“Well, what did you expect?” asked Harbi. Mike gibbered. And then gibbered some more.
Harbi looked up at the Useless Squad, slowly backing away from the door along the dark, claustrophobic corridor.
“Tell me guys,” she said addressing the squad, “when was the last time that you heard of ninjas coming in through the front door?”
They went into a flat panic, spinning on their heels, pointing their guns at the ceiling and into any dark corner - of which there were many – tripping over each other and generally making arses of themselves.
Lightning cracked outside, casting scary shadows and frightening the ever-livin’-shit out of more than one member of the squad.
“So, Mike, what are we facing?” asked Harbi, false smile plastered to her face.
“Gibber.”
“Hey Joe, Betty, come over here,” called Harbi, beckoning them. They came as requested.
“You do know what happened out there, don’t you ?” asked Harbi. “This bugger tried to have you killed.”
“Well, we are soldiers, so getting killed is part of the territory,” said Betty, matter-of-factly. “However, being set up by your own side isn’t really fair play, is it? I don’t think that insurance is really the line of work that you should be in Mikey – I reckon that you’d be more suited to agriculture. And just to show there’s no hard feelings I’ve got a gift to start you on your way.”
“A gift? For me?” wheezed Mike between gibbers, still curled up on the floor.
Harbi hid her eyes, knowing what was coming.
Betty took a step towards Mike, swinging her right leg as if about to take a rugby conversion attempt (a bit like kicking for the extra point at American Football).
She let fly, connecting with as much force as she could muster.
“Yeah, there’s a couple of acres for you!” she said. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, turned around and walked away, chin held high. “Yeah, and here’s a couple from me as well!” added Joe.
The Useless Squad reacted in a couple of different ways. Some members practically doubled up in an empathic reaction. Others doubled up in laughter.
Numf just stood there, quizzical look on his face. “I don’t get it. What has 4840 square yards got to do with a kick in the balls?” he asked of no-one in particular.
posted
“Right, Joe and Betty, you’re in charge of Mikey boy here,” said Harbi. “Everyone else, lets try to find a way out of here.”
“You don’t mind if we…..” started Joe.
“Just as long as he’s still able to answer questions,” came the reply from Napalm, who seemed to be the top ranking soldier around.
“Okay, lets split into three squads,” organised Harbi. “I’ll stay here with Joe, Betty and traitor here. Anything of interest let me know, and I’ll co-ordinate things from here. Napalm, I’ll let you decide who’s in each squad.”
“Okay, Numf, Sonnie, you go with Vaseline and Spunkeater. Take the stairs here and check out the second floor,” said Napalm.
“What do you mean second floor, sarge? There’s only a ground floor and a first floor,” pointed out Sonnie.
“No, I’m in charge, so there’s a first and a second. Now, just get your asses up them damned stairs and check all the rooms!” said Napalm, raising his voice to show he wasn’t going to take any nonsense.
The four of them disappeared carefully up the stairs, lasers pointed ahead of them, eyes constantly moving, looking for any signs of life, friend or foe.
Napalm was left with Drock and Ahole. They spread out across the corridor. They progressed by the not very subtle method of throwing the door open and barging / diving / falling into the room ready to tag anything that moved. Clumsy and noisy it may be, but it was liable to scare the shit out of anyone lying in wait.
Upstairs, Sonnie turned to Numf. “Hey, Numf, I was well impressed with your Wanker Detector,” he said quietly, still concentrating on the dark corners where danger might wait. “I don’t suppose that you can do anything else with it, you know, different modes.”
“Yeah, I can actually, just stay exactly where you are, don’t move, and I’ll show you.” So saying, Numf walked a couple of strides in front of his comrades and then turned around to face them. “It’s also a motion detector.” He sat his right hand on his left as before, and pointed his index finger at Sonnie. “Just give me a second to get the right setting,” he said, concentrating for a second. “Okay here we go…. Deet…...deet…...deet……deet. Okay, move towards me slowly, deet…deet…deet…deet, and a bit faster, deetdeetdeetdeetdeet. See it works.” He lifted his right hand and blew away the imaginary smoke from the end of his index finger, and then holstered it. A smug idiotic grin hung on his face.
No matter what she may have said earlier about ninjas not coming in the front door, Harbi immediately began to barricade the door they’d come through. Ninjas might not, but she knew that dragons did.
posted
Behind his back, Vaseline, Spunkeater and Sonnie laughed silently at Numf. Hands over their mouths, holding their noses between thumb and forefingers, they rocked with mirth, trying not to let on. A few small sniggers managed to escape, but not loud enough for Numf to notice, his attention elsewhere.
Numf was a few steps ahead, facing away from them down the upper floor corridor, “motion detector” sweeping from left to right, floor to ceiling, and back again. “…deet…..deet…..deet…..deet…”
“deet…deet….deet….deet…deet.. Hey, wait a minute guys, I think there’s something over there,” said Numf.
The three amigos fell about laughing – not even bothering to try to conceal their hilarity any more.
Numf turned at the sound. He just looked on in exasperation. “Come on now guys, I’m being serious!”
That just set them off even more. Tears were streaming down Sonnies face, as he staggered around clutching his sides. Vaseline was bouncing off the walls, and Spunkeater looked like he was about to pee his pants.
Harbi came bounding up the stairs, four at a time, to see what the commotion was all about.
“What the HELL is going on here?” she shouted, in an attempt to regain some order.
Numf shrugged, looking kinda pissed off, and turned back to his detecting. He wandered off down the corridor, deeting softly to himself.
Vaseline guffawed, snot exploding out of her nose. Sonnie tried not to cry, and Spumkeater ran in to the nearest room where, following a great deal of splashing, a huge sigh of relief was heard.
Numf had continued his wandering. And his deeting.
“Hey, Harbi, come up here, I sense something moving” he said softly.
Unusual though it was, Harbi was aware that Numf did have some strange abilities. She had seen him attract objects at will before, but being a lazy bastard, it wasn’t something that he had ever developed properly. So, when Numf said that he had sensed some movement, Harbi was the only one who didn’t automatically think he was a total nutter.
Tempting though it was to stand on Sonnies nuts on the way past, she resisted, and just kicked him gently instead.
posted
Harbi peered along the nigh black corridor, looking for any sign of life. Another lightning flash outside briefly lit up parts of the corridor through the open doorways. The light seared itself into their eyeballs, making it even more difficult to see anything once the darkness grabbed ahold again.
Harbi could have sworn that she heard the softly spoken words “use the force young numf”, though it could have just been Sonnie taking the piss.
Just a minute, she thought, has anybody actually tried turning the lights on?
Click….pi…pi….pi…..ping. The flourescents along the length of the corridor came on.
“Look, Numf – nothing,” said Sonnie, sniggering at his glaekit brother, while he picked himself up off the ground.
“No, shhhh, listen,” said Vaseline.
So they did, and heard nothing other than the rest of the squad charging into empty rooms, rain pattering off the flat roof, and the odd thump as Mike continued with his new hobby of picking up bruises.
“See, nothing Numf, what are you getting us all worked up about, man?” asked Vaseline.
“Shhhhhh!”
Skritch….skritch…skritch….
Numf pointed down at the floor. “It’s there.”
“Well, we’ll let Napalm deal with it then. HEY NAPALM – You’ve got company!” shouted Spunkeater.
“Nah, listen, it’s in the floor, not downstairs,” said Numf.
“HEY, NAPALM, IT’S IN THE CEILING!” yelled Spunky.
Almost instantly, shards of red light cut through the floor all around, slicing through the air like, umm…., well…., like lasers through the air, breaking light fittings, cutting holes in the floor and generally being a nuisance.
Five people jumped back almost instantly, falling over each other in an attempt to escape the rays.
“STOP! YOU DAFT BAS…” could be heard from five mouths at once.
The lasers stopped.
“Ooops – Sorry!” came Napalms voice, through the holes in the floor.
Creaaaaakkkkk!!!
Harbi looked up – they’d managed to cut through the main supporting joists in the roof with their lasers, and half a ton of metal and tiles was slowly sliding their way.
posted
Like lightning, a small red, white and blue streak came flying out of a sliced open pipe in the floor, headed straight for the roof. There the small object lifted the ceiling back into place with one paw. Once positioned, red beams emitted from its eyes, which welded the metal joists back together.
They were saved – Hooray!!!
For now at least. They still had the small point of an un-known number of ninjas, and a freakin’ big dragon to deal with. But for now they were still alive. Hooray! Huzzah! And three cheers!
“Rody!” shouted Numf, for it were he – Rody the Super Rat. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Rody flew down and landed on Numfs outstretched hand, where he started to preen himself. Little front paws cleaning his ears and whiskers and nose and tail and anywhere else you can think of. And his Super Rat costume and cape.
“Squeak, squeak, squeaks,” spake he, between and betwixt preens.
Numf, Sonnie and Harbi had all been given implants that enabled them to understand any language, including that of small white furry rodents. None of the others had a clue what was going on.
Napalm, Ahole and Drock had come a-bounding up the stairs to find out what the story was.
“Fuck – it’s a rat – kill the bastard!” said Drock, levelling his ray gun at Rody. Numf turned to get his body in between the gun and Rody, while Harbi straight-armed Drock in the side of the head.
“Sorry Drock,” said Harbi disarming him and picking him up off the floor, “but we’ll have less of that language. We may be a bunch of grunts, but we don’t have to talk like that. Lets show that we’ve got some class about us.”
“But it’s a fuc…” SLAP “Sorry, Harbi – but it’s a …. Well it’s a rat! Pest! Vermin!”
“It may be a rat, but it’s a personal friend of mine,” said Numfy. “Not only does it have intimate knowledge of Harbi” – both Harbi and Rody shuddered at that thought – “ but he has saved my life on occasion.”
“Yeah, this is Rody the Super Rat,” said Harbi.
“Not THE Rody the Super Rat?” said Drock.
“Absolutely,” said Numf.
“Never heard of him,” said Drock, rubbing the side of his head. “You know,” offered Sonnie, “the urban myth – Magnificent Superheroine and the Love Rat?”
“Oh, THAT rat,” said Drock, nodding his head knowingly, instantly developing a lot more respect for Rody. There were a few other respectful, nodding heads as well. Harbi blushed furiously.
posted
“So, Rody, what the hell are you doing here?” asked Harbi.
“Squeak, squeak, squeeeeeaaakk, squeakity squeak,” said Rody, giving them his full attention, now that he had finished his ablutions.
“Oh,” said Harbi, very surprised at the reply.
“See, I told you he was a good friend, didn’t I?” said Numf.
“Yo, what’s goin’ down, bro?” asked Napalm, perhaps a tad stereotypically.
“Well, that would be when you take a young lasssie back to your flat, ply her with a few Speccy Brews, and then get her to su…” started Numf, managing to duck the skelp round the ear from Harbi. “What?” he continued, indignantly. “Napalm here wanted to know what “goin’ down” is, so I was just about to tell him!”
“From what I’ve heard, Numfy, that’s something that Napalm here doesn’t need any help with. And especially not from a scrote like you. But that wasn’t what he was asking,” explained Harbi. “He was trying to find out what Rody was saying, ‘cos he doesn’t have a chip in his head like you and I. Now, do you want to explain, or will I – on second thoughts, let me.”
Harbi took a deep breath and started. “Rody here feels that he owes me a great debt. After our unfortunate accident back at Shameless Hussies, he can’t stop thinking that he owes me his life. A debt of honour.” She paused for a second and looked at Rody, tears welling in her eyes, smile playing round the corners of her mouth and spoke to him. “You’re not owe me anything, mister. That was not your fault. In fact, I’m hoping for payback any day soon.”
“Onyway,” continued Numf, while Harbi welled up with emotion, “Rody here says that he’s been up here for a coupla days casing the joint. Seeing how the land lies, ‘n’at. He’d heard that Harbi was coming up here with us lot and wanted to help. So he flew up here a coupla days ago and has been keepin’ an eye on things for us.” He patted Rody gently on the top of the head. “Good rat.” He turned to Drock and locked eyes. “Don’t mess with the rat – or you take on me too. My pal,” he said, indicating the rat. “Square go on the hill at 4 o’clock, if you get my drift.”
“Hey, point taken, man,” said Drock, hands raised in supplication.
posted
“So, Squeaky, where the hell is everybody?” asked Vaseline.
“Squeak, squeak, squeak,” replied Rody, who also had an implant, and could understand what everyone said, with the exception of some of Numfs colloquialisms. But then, no-one else understood what the hell he was on about most of the time anyway.
“He says that they’re being held deep down in a cave behind the old hen farm,” said Sonnie. “But they’re really well guarded apparently. Ninja everywhere, he says.”
“A hen farm, eh? I’d wondered what that smell was,” said Napalm, “I thought it was Numfs feet!”
“No – that smell IS my feet,” said Numf matter-of-factly. “Just wait and see how bad a hen farm can smell. Worse than hippopotamus shit – I’m tellin’ you.”
“But, if we’re going to get to the cave, then we’ll have to leave this building, won’t we? With all them bad-ass ninjas out there we’ll be sitting targets. ” asked Vaseline, “Unless la rata here knows another way.”
“Squeak, squeak,” said Rody.
“He says that there’s a drain that runs along the roof of the hen house…Wait a minute Rody – that might be okay for you, but how are us big people gonna manage?” Numf enquired.
“Squeak?”
“Well I suppose we could try crawling across the roof, if that’s what you suggest. Will we be visible from the ground?” asked Numf. In reply to Rodys shaking head he added, “Okay then, lets go and give it a look.”
They walked along to the end of the corridor and looked out of the window. Luckily for them there was a light switch at that end as well, which they turned off before getting too close to the window. The window overlooked a large single storey warehouse. By the irregular light of the lightning storm they could all make out that there was a fairly worn out corrugated iron roof. Through the rust holes in the roof they could make out the sound of clucking. A highly charged ammoniacal smell drifted through the window, much to the disgust of anyone whose olfactory senses still worked, or who hadn’t grown up in the same house as two teen-age brothers.
“Your bedroom used to smell worse than that Numf,” added Sonnie to the general noises of coughing and spluttering.
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