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CAZ
We found ourselves in a small space, roughly the size of a closet. I shut the hidden door behind us and we were plunged into darkness. The only light came from a small peephole set in the wall in front of us. I squeezed past Spin to take a look. “What do you see?” hissed Spin in my ear. “It looks like a spare bedroom,” I replied. A bed was in the corner, made with military precision, the corners tucked in so tight you could trap a person beneath the sheets. A small desk with a lamp was near the bed. One wall was lined with bookshelves. The light was off in the room, but the door was open, giving me a view of the room beyond. I could see the edge of the general’s desk, and his elbow resting on it. His aide was standing at the window, looking out into the night. He was stroking his chin with one hand, an intense look of concentration on his face. I could hear muffled talking, but couldn’t make out any words. Spin’s breathing was loud in my ears. “What do we do now?” he asked. “I think we can get into the room, but we have to wait for the general and his aide to leave.” As though they had been listening, the general’s aide walked to the door, opened it for the general, and the two of them exited. The room was plunged into darkness. Surprised, but not wanting to waste the opportunity, I felt around the edges of the seeming wall in front of me. A small knot seemed loose, and when I pushed it, the wall swung open. We crept through the bedroom and into the main room, keeping our heads down. I removed my helmet and placed it on the seat at the desk. “We need to find some proof,” I whispered. “I’ll look through the desk, you look at the cabinet in the corner.” “Roger,” he replied. We rifled through papers for a while, not finding much that was helpful. I looked through each drawer twice, but still didn’t see anything that could be considered proof. I sat down on the floor, puzzled. This was a military operation. There had to be a paper trail somewhere. I stared at the desk. It was an old oak desk, stained a deep red colour and polished so that it shone, even in the dim light. It had one thin drawer at the hole where the chair rested that held pencils and other stationery supplies. On either side of there were three drawers. The top two were the same size, but the bottom one was larger, which bugged me for some reason. I pulled out the drawer and looked at the papers that were resting there. I pulled out the second drawer and saw that both drawers were full and were holding the same amount of paper. I groaned audibly. “What’s the matter?” asked Spin. He closed the last drawer on the cabinet he had been examining and came over. “There’s a false bottom in this drawer,” I replied. “I should have known. It’s so obvious.” I pulled out the papers and felt around the empty drawer until I figured out how to open it. With a soft click the false bottom popped up, revealing another stack of papers. I grabbed them and gave a quick scan. “Yeah, this is what we are looking for.” I handed the papers to Spin and then returned the remaining papers to their rightful spot. “Let’s get out of here.” Just then, the door handle rattled and voices could be heard from the other side. Spin and I bolted to the hidden room, closing it just in time. As we snuck out into the cool night air, my heart sank. My helmet was still on the general’s desk.
SPIN
“Why did I know you were going to say that?” I lamented. I was starting to get the feeling that spending time with Caz was never going to get easier. “Who can we tell that would believe us?” I whispered. “No one,” she replied. “We need proof.” I looked at her before peering into the room once again. The general was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, polished so fine that they were like a mirror. I ducked back, worried that he could see me in them. “We need to break into his office, don’t we.” The helmet across from me bobbed the affirmative. Sometimes it was no fun being right. “The night is cooling off. Close the window for me, would you?” The general leaned forward, putting his feet back on the floor. A loud creak emerged from the chair as his weight shifted. “Of course, sir.” His face remained bland as he walked towards where we were crouched. There was no time to hide, so we did the only suitable thing. When the aide reached the window, we saluted him crisply and walked away resolutely once he had returned the gesture. Once around the corner of the building, we stopped holding our breath. “That was too close,” I remarked, but she wasn’t listening. She was already formulating the plan for getting the proof we needed. “Let me know when you think of something,” I said, leaning against the building, falling flat on my face when the hidden door popped open. “I’ve thought of something,” said Caz.
The Beginning of the End
“How are the preparations coming?” Thunderfunk paced the control room nervously.
Lights flashed a rainbow of colour across Straw Daq’s face as the clicking of various buttons being pushed flooded the room. His hands were a blur as has flipped switches and turned dials. Sweat ran down his face, falling to splash on the rubberized tile. “Things are going well,” he said tersely.
“Excellent.” Thunder wrung his hands. “Are the lasers in place?”
“Yes. And I calibrated them myself.”
“Good. What about the incendiary devices?”
“Placed at the best strategic locations.”
“Grenade launchers?”
“Loaded and armed.” Straw wiped his brow with a damp sock.
“Mortar rounds?”
“Prepped.”
“Missiles?”
“Coordinates loaded and warheads armed.”
“Squirrel gun?”
“Ready.”
“Clown?”
“Just putting on his make up. We had an issue with the wig, but we think it has been handled.”
“Good. We certainly do not want a repeat of Grenada.”
Straw shuddered at the memory.
“Vacuum?”
“Bag emptied, ready to go.”
“Screwdriver?”
“I’ve gone with a Robertson this time. Seemed apropos given the circumstances.”
“A fine choice.” Thunder sat down, closing his eyes for a moment before leaping to his feet. “Spaghetti?”
“Al dente.”
“Soap?”
“Nice and sudsy.”
“Turtles?”
“Shells are waxed and buffed. One wasn’t feeling in a bitey mood, but I reminded him that he was contractually obligated.”
“It was Louie, wasn’t it.” Thunder rubbed the spot at the bridge of his beak that always seemed to calm him down. “I never should have hired him.”
“Don’t worry, it will be okay.”
“Okay. Did you get the ping pong balls?”
Straw grimaced and breathed in through a clenched mouth. “The store was sold out. All they had left was hockey pucks, and not very many of those.”
“It will have to do.” The two looked at each other for a long moment. “It is time, isn’t it.”
Straw nodded.
“Very well.” Thunder tugged on his tuxedo jacket and straightened his bow tie. “Then make the call.”
CAZ
“Would you like a drink, sir?” asked the aide. He grabbed a series of bottles, deftly pouring and mixing a cocktail of some sort. “Wha..oh, yes. Of course.” The general scrawled his signature at the bottom of a page. As he accepted the drink, he sat back, rubbing his neck. “That’s good,” he complimented his aide. “Only the best for you, sir,” came the smooth reply. I was surprised at how casual this aide was with such an important man. Judging from the plethora of stars and stripes on the general’s uniform, he must have been the highest man in the army. “Have we received any reports back from the field?” The general tipped his glass up, finishing the entire drink. “Everything is proceeding as planned,” replied the aide. He quickly prepared a new drink. “I’m still not comfortable with this,” said the general, accepting the new drink. A sour expression flitted across the aide’s face, but it was gone before the general could notice. “I understand, General Toshi, but you saw how restless the workers were getting. We needed something to stop any chance of them organising or revolting. We need them under control and faking some alien attacks was enough to get them scared and clamouring for our help and control. Plus, revealing this information to the public will unite them and make them think that they need us to protect them as well. Everyone is under our control now.” The general leaned back, holding out an empty glass. “I guess so,” he said reluctantly. “I am curious how you managed to set up the fake attacks so quickly.” The aide smiled his oily smile. “It is amazing what bureaucracy can accomplish when the goal is its own gain.” I pulled back from the window, staring at nothing for a long time. “We have to reveal the truth,” I whispered. I glanced over at Spin whose shoulders visibly slumped. “Why did I know you were going to say that?” he lamented.
Almost There
The next few days were busy for the evil supergenius. Straw Daq watched as his employer descended into madness. Actually, Thunderfunk the Superchicken had been mad from the day he hatched. “He came out half scrambled”, his father was fond of saying. But Straw worried nonetheless. He had never seen Thunder so focussed before. There were several easy opportunities for megalomania that he ignored. He even, in his distraction, said hello to Mrs. Henderson without cursing or sighing. All he wanted to do was attack Breadbuuter. One attempt after another failed. They drove a tank at his gates, only to be met with a barrage of anti-tank weaponry, such as a giant lizard foot falling from the sky to crush it. They tried to fly a helicopter over his house, but a laser guided laser sliced the rotors clean off and a humongous mallet smacked the falling helicopter far away. They tunnelled towards his land, only to accidentally hit the lava crocodile pit. Not much gets the heart pumping like being chased through a tunnel by a lava crocodile. As well as lava. The lowest of the low moments came when they dressed in girl guide uniforms and tried to sell cookies at the front gate. Finally, after two weeks of failure, Thunder sat on his red leather chair, one arm in bandages, a bald spot in his feathers where the stiches had gone in. He slowly raised his head, meeting his protege’s eyes with an icy gaze. “It’s time,” he said. “Prepare the device.”
SPIN
I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell from how her shoulders slumped that Caz was relieved about something. “What’s up?” I asked as we strolled around the side of the building. When we were hidden in the shadows, she removed her helmet. “Didn’t you recongise that guy?” she hissed. I glanced around but couldn’t see him anymore, so I shrugged. “That was the general’s aide.” “Which general?” “The one that captured me when we first got back.” She wiped her brow and then put her helmet back on. “Oh right. The guy I smacked in the face. Hey, if his aide is here, do you think the general would be too?” Her helmet bobbed up and down in the dim light. We slunk over to a nearby window and peered inside. The general was sitting at a desk, reading over some papers. He glanced towards us, revealing the remnants of a nasty bruise around his eye and cheek, a bruise that closely resembled the butt end of the gun I had hit him with. The door behind him opened and the aide returned, flicking a cigarette butt into the night. As they began to talk, I couldn’t help but wonder if the fear that had seemed to flash across the general’s face was real, or just a trick of the light.
Attempt Number One
Applying black face paint over feathers was harder than it looked, but it was an essential part of late night skullduggery, largely because Thunderfunk was a white chicken with a white head, so he was highly visible, even at night. He finished the last touches, smearing the greasy paint on his neck feathers. “There, how do I look?” he asked Straw. “Too much mascara,” replied the young man without looking up. He had been ready for an hour, but it was always much easier for him. “Can we go now?” he whined. “Yes, the time for us to depart has arrived,” said Thunder. They slunk out of their secret lair, moving silently through the inky blackness, grateful for the lack of a moon. Soon they had reached their destination. “This part of his fence is always neglected,” whispered Thunder, reaching forward to grasp the metal wire. Straw looked around. “I smell barbecue,” he said, puzzled. “Who in the world would be barbecuing this late at night?” “Hnng!” replied Thunder, his entire body stiff, smoke curling from under his black toque. “Oh,” said Straw. He grabbed a stick and knocked Thunder’s hand off of the fence. The giant chicken slumped to the ground, babbling incoherently. “I took the liberty of rewiring the fence for electricity,” came Breadbuuter’s voice over a hidden speaker. “Did you like it?” “Hrrg!” replied Thunder sullenly. He rose to his feet shakily and tottered off, limping visibly. Straw looked around, unsure of the protocol. “Sorry to have bothered you,” he finally said before running into the darkness. He bounced off of the fence with a loud zap. Rising to his feet, he glanced around. Patting his head until the flames went out, turned and followed Thunder into the darkness.
