Cautiously, Tony opened the cupboard door. “Cathy?” He peered into the gloomy space. “Are you in here?” He was just starting to feel really foolish when there came a shuffling noise, a pile of lavatory paper rolls shifted, and she stepped out from behind a bundle of cleaning equipment in the corner.
She was exactly as he remembered, which is to say clearly balmier than a bag of badgers. Trying not to make any sudden moves, and wishing fervently he’d left his asp behind in his locker, he stretched his hand to her. Her cold, steely fingers closed over his.
“Hello, Tony.” Her voice was as icy as her touch. “I’ve been away for a while, but I’m all better now.”
Resisting the urge to snatch his hand away, Tony guided her out of the cupboard. “Refs?”
“I remember the way.” With that she let go of his hand and wandered away, passing two of the crew in the corridor. They stared after her, puzzled, and Tony realised that her uniform was somewhat out of date. Hoping that their new friend RB knew what she was doing, he headed back up the stairs.
~*~*~*~*~
Jack Meadows paused by the coffee machine. Normally the brew was bland and tasteless, but would do, as he couldn’t be bothered to queue in the canteen. He dropped in his money and pressed the right combination of buttons. As the plastic beaker filled slowly, he gloomily pondered his six-week stint in the cupboard, which was dark and draughty. If the rumours were true, he saw himself spending more and more time in there. Passed over for someone younger.
Mentally he shook himself and picked up the cup. Strange. He stared at it. Something was definitely not quite right about the consistency. He sniffed it -- smelt a bit odd, too. But that was nothing strange about that. Then he took a sip. And immediately looked for somewhere to spit it out.
Jack scowled and looked for somewhere to dump the cup and its contents. The rumours had to be true, as the vile tasting brew confirmed: the coffee machines were mating again.
So the Producers were making the whole thing over into young, hip and glossy. And full of improbable personal relationships. Where do I fit in? Jack shook his head sadly. More draughty, lonely months in the cupboard, only to be trotted out once in a while. Sighing, he headed for the stairs.
~*~*~*~*~
“So, what do you need from us?” Jo typed. “Tony’s gone to let Cathy out of the cupboard.”
Are you alone?
Jo sighed. “Not exactly.” Stuart was still hovering.
Because there are few little details I think I ought to warn you about, seeing we’ve let Batty loose.
“Details... I knew it...” Stuart stabbed an accusatory finger at the dialogue box. “She’s gonna hurt me again, I know it. What is it this time, eh? Bamboo shoots under the fingernails?”
There was an electronic sizzle and a small plume of smoke. Stuart staggered backwards against the wall, staring at Jo in disbelief before his eyes rolled up in his head. Then, quietly, he slid down into an inanimate heap.
Jo swooped down. “Stu?” But he was out for the count. She moved him carefully into the recovery position and slipped back into the chair. “What on earth did you do?” she typed.
Shot him in the left buttock with a standard animal trank dart. He’ll come round in about fifteen minutes, a bit of a headache but no lasting damage.
“That wasn’t very nice.”
He was going to go off on one, and we don’t have time for one of those famous Turner rants. It’s probably better he doesn’t know too much about what I have to tell you about Batty.
“What about Batty??” Jo looked down at her sleeping partner, where the
You have to use her sparingly. Once you’ve wound her up, just don’t get in her way. This is gonna work a bit like a mmorpg, but there’s one slightly awkward side effect. She’s gonna follow Stuey about rather a lot.
“Why?”
She really goes for his type. The trouble is, she’ll have him chained up in the boiler room in the basement if you turn your back on her for too long. I’d keep a set of handcuff keys and a pair of bolt cutters handy, if I were you. You might also want to make regular sweeps of the basement.
“He’s going shortly--surely that won’t be too much of a problem...”
That’s just it. HE might be going, but Stuey won’t be going anywhere for at least another six months. Just remember this, in tv-land you can still hear the Peasants scream!!
“Very funny.”
Hehehehe... rather proud of that one me-self. Anyway, perhaps I ought to introduce you to some of my fellow villainesses... Smickan, she’ll be your gatekeeper, protecting the innocent... dead good at that is Smickan. She’s particularly fond of Smithy, so I wouldn’t plot anything that gets him hurt if I were you. And my fellow villainess, Vampires Kiss... VK loves you... so... you’re safe. As long as VK is about, nothing untoward will happen to you.
“Well, that’s good to know. Anything else we ought to know?”
Not particularly, other than during briefing this afternoon, Sergeant Stone will inexplicably lose his clothes again (the girlies do so love a Nekkid Callum) and a very flustered Insp. Weston will put Tony and Roger in the area car instead of Nate and Roger... Tony should make the most of it... and watch out for the old lady in the green tea-cosy hat. She will become particularly significant.
~*~*~*~*~
Callum Stone peered cautiously out of the men’s locker room. He’d been walking along a corridor, minding his own business, file in hand, as he will on occasion, when a mysterious wardrobe malfunction had deprived him of his dignity. Stripped him naked as a jaybird, to be more specific. Worse still, it happened on camera, so the censors would have coronaries, the lot of ‘em. Blushing furiously, Callum had sidled away, noticing with some irritation that A4 Manila folders were hopelessly inadequate for a man of his standing.
He opened the door and slipped out, praying silently that it wouldn’t happen again, he headed to the briefing room with uncharacteristic nervousness. As he stepped through the door, and Inspector Rachel Weston turned to face him, there was a tiny electronic sizzle from somewhere just behind him.
Rachel’s serene expression remained in place, presumably by sheer effort of will, as Callum prayed that the ground would open and swallow him whole. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Holding the clipboard in front of him in a protective gesture, he reversed out through the door, as the distant sound of girly shrieks of delight rang in his ears.
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