Shoreditch Police Station.
"...and the culprit of these ghastly murders is some kind of stone angel, who sends the poor unfortunates back through time?"
"According to Professor Dark, at any rate. I think an apology is due, Quick. Turns out the blighter was ageing those poor women. In a manner of speaking."
"Much obliged, Professor, but it was a bit of a shot in the dark, on my part."
"Even so, I shouldn't have ridiculed you."
"Don't worry about it Litefoot. So, how do you two hope the catch this cove? Anything the Royal Constabulary can do to insist this investigation?"
"A tempting offer Quick, but this creature is incredibly dangerous. I think it best to limit the number of potential victims. Between Henry and myself, we can have 360 degree vision."
"Suit yourselves."
"Actually, there is one thing you could help us with. Henry had a cunning idea for a trap, and we might need help transporting some equipment."
Turner's Textiles Warehouse.
"Hold it steady, Quick!"
"I'm doing my best, sir!"
"George, now you angle that mirror a tad more. No, the other way!"
"Sorry Henry!"
"Excellent, now just fix it in place, and...voila!"
"So, what exactly is this contraption, Mr. Jago? Just looks like a bunch of panels and glass to me."
"Trivial theatrical trickery, my dear Quick. Allow me to demonstrate. I'll just pop into this alcove here.."
"And thanks to the optical properties of light, if you stand right here, Inspector.."
"Then I can see Jago bang in front of me! Even though he's still hiding in the alcove!"
"Indeed, a common enough trick, in my profession. Commonly called Pepper's Ghost, on account of it being used to simulate supernatural sightings of spurious spectres."
"We plan to use it to lure the creature towards the glass, not us, and when it's in place, drop those chains there onto it, pinning it in place. Until we can think of a way to safely dispose of it."
"And you're sure you don't require any further assistance?"
"Thank you Quick, but we'll be fine."
"In which case, farewell gentlemen and good luck!"
"So, Litefoot, what time do we have?""
"It's just gone eleven, Henry. Not long to wait now."
"You see, I've been thinking..."
"Are you sure that's wise?"
"What?"
"Nothing, continue please, old boy."
"Well, I've just be thinking about what the Doctor said. About the victim recorded here from future historical records."
"Indeed. That's why I insisted Quick and his men keep away tonight. Let me guess, you fear one of us will be cursed by the angel's embrace?"
"Not really, Professor. I'm sure the Doctor would have mentioned if it had been one of us. No, I'm concerned that there might be some other soul nearby who could be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Egads you're right! What do you propose?"
"Well, I'm sure there's time for a quick perusalatory perambulation about the perimeter of the premises."
"It's the least we can do, I suppose."
Exterior of Turner's Textiles.
"Blast this accursed fog!"
"I can't see a ruddy thing in this pea-souper! I can barely even make out you."
"Then, Jago, I suggest we don't stray from each other."
"Oh, it's no use. Even if there were another soul out here, we'd never find them unless we tripped ov....Ahhhhghhh!!"
"Henry!"
"Oh my word, what was that?"
"'ow are ya, gents?"
"Ellie!"
"What are you doing here? This is no place for a lady."
"Huh, cheek of you, Mr. J! I'm always left out of your adventures, only to save you at the last moment. Thought you could do with an extra pair of 'ands"
"Well, we're certainly glad of the company, but how did you know to come here exactly?"
"Well, Professor Dark also sent a letter, addressed to me personally. 'E said you pair'd need my 'elp."
"George?"
"What is it now, Henry?"
"I don't want to alarm anyone, but I think I just saw the silhouette of an angelic abomination."
"Where?"
"Just through there."
"I can't see nuffing."
"Nor me, but then again, I can't see anything in this mist."
"I think we'd better get back inside, sharpish!"
"True, we're sitting ducks out here. It could be anywhere, and the first we'd know is when we run into the bally thing."
All three began to hurry back towards the warehouse. Their eyes, darting around in every direction, every shadow and blurred shape glimpsed through the dense fog was another pang of fear in their hearts. Grey faces seemed to loom in the corners of their vision, with no way to ascertain if they were real or fictitious. Chased, either by the Weeping Angel, their protected fears, or both, none of them could decide which.
No comments:
Post a Comment