SAOS: Chapter Twenty Seven: What Spud's Do Best

      "Well?" Chas asked Jeremy coldly. "You heard the evil genius. It was him who killed your grandfather, not me. And you've heard his plans. You're living, you're human, there's no way you're going to be spared. What are you going to do about it?"

      Jeremy just stood there, looking shell-shocked. Behind him the machine with the big red button intoned:

      "There is one hour and twenty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      "God, I am so going to enjoy melting that machine down for scrap," said Spud.

      Footsteps sounded behind Jeremy, and he turned around to see Barbra and her two clockwork pets walking towards him.

      "I don't know what you're talking about," he said to Chas.

      Barbra said: "The Master wishes your assistance with some repair work."

      "I-I-I-I'm on my way," he stuttered. And walking like someone who's only the tiniest bit aware of his surroundings he staggered out the door.

      Barbra stood and watched the group with unnerving stillness.

      "Chas," whispered Nics. "Are you alright?"

      "What do you mean?" he asked.

      "Only, you said that you didn't kill Jeremy's grandfather..." she said.

      "Oh," Chas said. "Slip of the tongue."

      "But it's the second or third time you've said something like that. Are you alright?" Nics pressed.

      "Yes," he said, with a strange little smile. "I've just remembered a few things, that's all."

      Spud was looking up at the young man encased in glass.

      "Do you think he'd help if we got him out of there?" he asked.

      "No," said Barbra, stepping closer to the group. "He wouldn't."

      Nics looked at her closely for a long moment.

      "You, you're special, aren't you?"

      Barbra looked back, eyes unblinking, making no pretence at being human.

      "Oh, that robot look doesn't fool me in the slightest," said Nics, glaring at her. "You're more than you're letting on, and you know it. You've gone and done by yourself what was given to me. You've found a soul."

      Barbra smiled, and it was horrible. It looked like her face was cracking.

      "Prove it," she said.

      "Oh, I will," said Nics. "But even if I don't, how long do you think it'll take before Mr Cuckoo notices? And once he does, once he finds out you've got free will, how long is it going to be after that before he destroys you, or puts you in one of these damn collars? How long?"

      Barbra's voice was very calm and very very cold.

      "Cuckoo's a fool. A genius, but a fool. And he's very easy to control."

      She turned and took a few steps away, then stopped.

      "If you don't like your collar, have a thought for the one the dog is wearing," she said, and walked out with another word.

      "Hey, look, there's our house," said Spud as she stepped out the door. He'd been watching the CCTV camera footage on the big screen with the avid interest of a hardened couch potato.

      "Nice one babes," said Chas to Nics. "Now, let's get planning. What are our assets?"

      Spud didn't take his eyes from the screens. "You, me, Nics, some greasepaint and an empty pizza box. Oh, and a spare soul, though I've no idea how that could help."

      "You can't rely on me," said Nics. "Not with the collar on me."

      "So we figure out a way of getting the collar off," said Chas.

      "And off Sam too," she added. "He's as much a victim and forced into this as I am."

      "Alright, and Sam too," agreed Chas. “Even if he is a miserable fleabag.”

      They sat in silence for a while, thinking.

      "I don't suppose the Agency can help?" Nics asked Spud hopefully.

      Spud sighed and shook his head. "Nope, that was the message. I've got to deal with it. The Agency are bringing in the cavalry, but it's not going to happen in enough time to help."

      Nics sighed, and went back to pulling at the gold choker. This meant that she nearly ended up choking herself on it when the mouse that had been hiding in Chas’ breast pocket popped up and squeaked.

      "Sorry mate," Chas told it. "I was kind of keeping you as our secret weapon. No slight intended."

      Nics shuffled as far away from the mouse as she possibly could, right to the edge of the circle of golden clockwork dragons that stood guard around them. The mouse looked at her, twitched its whiskers and ran straight for her, squeaking wildly.

      She screamed and ran away from it, her feet stomping straight down onto one of the golden dragons. Quick as a flash there were dozens of them crawling all over her and she was screaming, and screaming and trying to pull them off herself.

      "Now!" yelled Chas, and launched himself at the thinned line of dragons. He caught one as it jumped at him and threw it across the room, crushing another under his feet. And he was out of the ring and causing carnage.

      Spud followed him, wielding the grease laden empty pizza box like a very soggy club. The mouse ran straight past Nics and disappeared behind some serious machinery.

      There followed a very short but very intense fight, with golden cogwheels and a not inconsiderable amount of blood from all concerned flying everywhere. But in the end Chas and Spud stood battered but unbowed in the centre of a battlefield made of clockwork pieces. Spud still clutched the shreds of cardboard that were all that remained of the battered pizza box.

      Nics hadn't wasted any time once she'd been freed from the crawling mass of dragons. She was straight over to the workbenches looking for anything that could be used to cut the control collar from her neck.

      She pulled a huge pair of long handled pliers from a pile of weird and unusual tools and took them over to Chas.

      "Get this damn thing off me now," she told him.

      He looked at her, and then at the pliers, and started chewing his lip.

      Spud had approached the machine with the big red button on it. He looked at it for a moment, crouching down to see underneath it, trying to get a grasp of how the thing worked. But, as far as he could see, there was no way into it; it was a completely sealed, featureless box, with only the big red button and LED display on it.

      So he did the only thing he could think of. He pressed the big red button.

      The disembodied voice of the machine said:

      "Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now one hour left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      "One hour!" Spud cried. "I thought we had more time than that!"

      And he hit the button again, three times. To get the disembodied voice saying again:

      "Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now fifty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day. Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now forty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day. Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now thirty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      Chas and Nics both lunged for him yelling:

      "Spud! Don't press the Goddamn button!!!"

      Spud, having realised what he'd just done, stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to look innocent.

      "Alright," said Chas, trying to stay cool. "Less time now."

      He took another look at the pliers in his hands, and a closer look at the gold collar around Nics' neck and shook his head.

      "Sorry babes," he said, dropping his hands. "If I try to cut through it I'll just end up cutting your throat."

      Nics swore, on the edge of furious tears once more. She took the pliers from his hands and wound up and threw them.

      They sailed though the air and hit the glass case surrounding the young man. A large crack jagged crazily across the surface of the glass.

      Nics looked at it a moment, then said:

      "You guys break that machine. I'm going to get him out of there."

      She started dragging lab benches over so she could use them to climb up.

      Chas went over to have a look at the machine.

      "There's no way in," said Spud. “And I don't think it has an off switch."

      "This is a workshop," said Chas to him. "There's got to be a tin opener in here somewhere."

      Spud scurried off to look, and came back in no time at all armed with a sledgehammer, a blowtorch, an axe, a band saw, an electric cordless drill and a stack of sandpaper.

      "Sandpaper?" Chas asked him.

      "First thing I saw," said Spud, dropping all but the blowtorch. He fired it up gleefully and went to work on the casing of the machine. Chas picked up the cordless drill and went to work as well.

      A few minutes later, and the only sign of their efforts was in the slight scorch marks on the casing and a few scratches. The drill bit was well and truly worn down to nothing.

      "Blowtorch is out of fuel," said Spud, shaking it and looking glum.

      He aimed a kick at the machine case. "How the hell do we get into this thing?"

      "Dunno," said Chas. "But it's really inconsiderate of Cuckoo. Most evil geniuses at least have a fairly obvious off switch built into their doomsday devices."

      "Yeah, but neither of us is James Bond remember?" Spud reminded him.

      Chas snorted.

      Nics had made her way onto the top of a rather precarious pile of benches and had reached level with the glass case and the young man inside it. Shielding her eyes with one arm, she swung the hammer she held in her other hand as hard as she could against the glass.

      It shattered, sending pieces flying everywhere. With great care she reached in and undid the straps that held the young man in place, putting him over one shoulder in a fireman's carry, and climbing down again.

      On the screen behind her were images from a darkly lit theatre. A woman in a white dress with red boots was talking to a woman in a red dress with white boots. Both wore masks made of duck feathers.

      Spud and Chas looked at the machine, and looked at each other.

      "There is fifteen minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      Three mice ran up the side of the machine, and, defying gravity, across the shiny glass plate of the LED countdown.

      "Oh look," said Spud. "Your mouse friend has brought some friends."

      The mouse looked at Spud like he was the least intelligent life form on the planet, and ran across the LED plate again, this time squeaking pointedly.

      "Of course," breathed Spud in tones of profound realization, "the glass of the countdown display."

      Chas simply picked up the sledgehammer and hefted it. The mice quickly got off the machine and retreated to a safe distance as he swung the sledgehammer at the display.

      It popped out of its frame very neatly indeed. The two lads peered in, looking into a maze of belts, chains, clockwork pieces and cogs.

      "So, which wire do we cut then?" asked Chas. "Spud? You're the expert."

      Spud glared at him. "It may surprise you to hear this, but they don't exactly teach a course in how to disarm clocks in the Agency. Bombs, yes, clocks no."

      "Well, if we can't disarm it, let's break it then," said Chas, sticking the head of the sledgehammer through the gap and wiggling it around, totally failing to cause any damage to the machine's innards at all.

      "Step aside," said Spud grandly. "Breaking things is what Spud's do best."

      He reached inside the machine and grabbed something and pulled. No result. He tried again, this time using a pair of pliers. No result. He chucked the empty blowtorch, the dead cordless drill, the pile of sandpaper, seventeen screwdrivers and a glass beaker into the machine in the hopes that it would jam.

      "There is ten minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      "What Spud's do best, eh?" said Chas, one eyebrow arched. "No rush. Take your time..."

      Scowling in frustration Spud thrust the greasy pizza box inside the machine. And smiled as he thought of something.

      "Fire," he said. "Where the hell did I put my lighter?"

      "You keep losing it, remember?" said Chas, just as Spud pulled a lighter out of one pocket. Then another, and another, and another.

      He burped, and pulled a lighter out from his mouth.

      Chas winced. That looked far too unpleasant for words.

      Spud patted himself down, producing lighters from every pocket, from up his sleeves and down his trousers, from behind his ears and even out of his nose. After he'd amassed a huge pile of them he dumped all but a few inside the body of the machine. The remaining few he fiddled with a bit, then consigned them too into the junk pit that was the machine's innards.

      "You might want to stand back a bit," he told Chas as he fiddled with the last lighter.

      Chas dove for cover.

      Spud flicked the lighter on and threw it into the machine and ducked. Nics sneezed at exactly the same moment that an almighty fireball exploded out of the frame where the display had been, melting the big red button and leaving nasty bright afterimages on the eyes. The machine's disembodied voice came from the dirty black smoke that followed the fireball.

      "There is ten... minutes... left... before...  activvv.... wooooopppp..."

      "Did you do it?" asked Nics from where she was bent over the body of the young man. "Have we stopped Mr Cuckoo's infernal plan?"

      The jewel on her collar flashed, and she stood up rigidly. Mr Cuckoo, along with the remnants of his collection of one hundred and one golden clockwork dragons, Jeremy, Sam, Barbra and her clockwork pets had just walked in.

      "I'm afraid not," Mr Cuckoo said to her as Spud dove for cover behind the shell of the doomsday device.

      "I underestimated you. You have delayed me, yes. But you have not come even close to stopping me."

      He lifted one monstrous clockwork hand to reveal an ornate box with a red button prominently placed in the middle of it. He pressed it with one thumb, and laughed loud, long and maniacally.

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Six (what, another one?): In Which Even More Of The Gory Truth Is Revealed (With Apologies to Messers. Gilbert And Sullivan)

       "You do of course realise," said Mr Cuckoo to his captives, "that I’ve heard everything you've said and planned here?"

      He looked at the three of them, still trapped inside the circle of clockwork dragons. Spud's face fell.

      "And,” Mr Cuckoo continued, “for a group of secret agents whose job it is to stop me from destroying all life on Earth, you're doing a pretty poor job of it."

      "Go ahead," said Spud, "rub it in. I never was any good at that job anyway."

      Chas just grinned at Mr Cuckoo with a look of I-know-something-you-don't-know in his eyes.

      "I'll make you a deal," Chas told Mr Cuckoo. "I'll hand over the second disk, and you can install it in Snow White up there," he waved one hand at the young man in glass, up on the wall.

"You can use him for all your tests on free will and crap like that, so you won't need us. All you have to do take your control collar off Nics, and let her, me and Spud go, and the disk is your, no hassle, no fuss."

      "And why would I do that?" asked Mr Cuckoo pleasantly. "Seeing as I could just kill you and take it from your dead body?"

      "Because it wouldn't be nearly enough fun for you," Chas told him. "Why give us a quick and easy death, when I'm sure that the death you have planned for every living creature on Earth is far more painful? You're far too interesting for that."

      Mr Cuckoo smiled unpleasantly, as behind him the infernal machine spoke.

      "There is one hour and thirty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      "Maybe you're right," he said, metal fingers reaching up to caress the battered silver locket that he wore on a golden watch chain attached to his waistcoat. "But maybe you're not."

      Spud saw a flash of electric blue from behind one of the machines in the lab. He turned to Nics and whispered:

      "Did you see that?"

      "A man in a bright blue zoot suit carrying a double bass?" she whispered back. Spud nodded. "Oh yes, I saw."

      "Please God," said Spud, eyes up to heaven, "not another musical number..."

      "But, you weren't in the lab for them..." Nics asked, slightly confused.

      "No, but I was interrogated by Mr Cuckoo - in the style of a country and western song." Spud shuddered at the memory. "It was not pleasant."

      Mr Cuckoo clapped his hands, and a clockwork dragon scuttled out from a corner. It climbed up the wall like a cockroach, and hit a very small button at normal light switch level.

      Huge screens suddenly unfurled themselves on either side of the young man in the glass coffin, coming alive with images, jump cutting from one scene to another to another.

      There was a field with kids playing football in, a busy city centre with people doing shopping, and office full of workers, a school, factories, car parks, more offices, more and more people, from all walks of life, doing everything that people do.

      Mr Cuckoo watched the pictures, a look of excitement on his face.

      "Have you never wondered," he asked his captives, "why the birth rate is falling so dramatically now-a-days, but yet there seem to be more people than ever?"

      Chas shook his head, face grim.

      "That's all because of me," said Mr Cuckoo, affecting a false modesty. "I do so hate to brag, but all those extra people... I made them. Each and every last one of them. They're out there, in shops and offices and factories and schools, all working away happily. But they're really just waiting. Waiting for my signal. And when they hear it, they're all going to rise up and kill every non-clockwork thing on the face of the planet. It's going to be carnage."

      He grinned toothily.

      "And with these screens, which are hooked up to CCTV cameras all over the world, I can see if happening."

      Nics gasped. "That's- that's monstrous, horrible! You won't even give them a quick death!"

      Chas hugged her tighter. She looked directly at him and asked a single question as the hidden orchestra started to play.

      "Why?"

      "I'm so glad you asked me that, my dear," Mr Cuckoo answered, then began to sing.

      "When I was a lad I started off

      as apprentice in a jeweller's shop

      I polished the rings and cleaned the locks

      and got rather good at fixing clocks

      But the boss didn't give me any recognition

      So now I am bent on world domination."

      The clockwork dragons took up the chorus in a metallic monotone:

      "But the boss didn't give him any recognition

      So now he is bent on world domination."

      Spud winced in agony, and put his head in his hands.

      "Please," he whimpered. "Make it stop..."

      Mr Cuckoo continued with his gory tale:

      "So then I grew up and I got my own shop

      with lots of workspace and a damn good lock

      I had a partner who I liked a lot

      who was also very good at making clocks

      But the ladies gave him all the admiration

      So now I am bent on world domination"

      The dragons lined themselves up in a row and started dancing a merry hornpipe.

      "But the ladies didn't give him any admiration

      So now he is bent on world domination"

      "My partner decided to make a clockwork man

      I agreed and I gave him a hand

      we could've used our talent to rule the land

      instead he went off and wrecked our plan

      As he didn't help with my innovation

      So now I am bent on world domination!"

      "As he didn't help with my innovation

      So now I am bent on world domination!"

      The dragons did a happy dance, and the music ended. Spud was still whimpering.

      "From 'HMS Pinafore', am I right?" asked Nics.

      Mr Cuckoo scowled at her, angry now.

      "If Gilbert and Sullivan had ghosts, they'd be haunting you right about now for mangling their song!" Nics prodded him.

      "All the more reason to wipe the scum of human existence off the face of the planet!!" Mr Cuckoo exploded.

      Nics quailed, and Chas went for the jugular.

      "So, everyone snubbed you when you were growing up. Even your partner got cold feet when he heard of your plans to take over the world. So you decide to eliminate everything you haven't created, simply so you don't have to listen to anyone ever tell you that you're wrong?"

      Mr Cuckoo's face turned a lovely bright purple.

      "Jeremiah Grandfather was an idiot!" he hissed in a fury. "He didn't see what was right in front of his face. We could have had the world, just the two of us, forever! But he had to go off with some woman, when no woman had ever looked twice at me! And when I told him what we could do together, what we had done together, he developed a bloody conscience and ran!!"

      "So," said Chas quietly. "You killed him."

      "He deserved it!!" screamed Mr Cuckoo. "He deserved it for abandoning me! For throwing away the plan that we'd worked so hard at!! For running off with some woman!!!"

      Turning to one of the workbenches, he picked it up with one metal hand and threw it across the room. It bounced off a wall, glass shattering and unidentified coloured liquids going everywhere.

      He stormed around for several minutes, breaking everything in his path, including one of his precious golden clockwork dragons. That seemed to shock him to his senses though, or perhaps just take him from a fiery rage to an icy one. Bearing the broken body of the dragon in one hand he left the laboratory in silence.

      No sooner had the door shut behind him than Jeremy stepped out from behind one of the machines. He had been crying.

      Chas just looked at him, steadily, waiting.

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Six: The Story Of A Ghost Who Wasn't

      Chas and Spud heard the tapping of dog nails on the floor before they saw him. Chas stood out in the middle of the hall and called out:

      "Here Sam! Here doggy doggy doggy!"

      Sam growled and ran at him, teeth bared. He came within snapping distance of Chas' leg when Spud rugby tackled him and bore him fiercely to the ground.

      "Now pay attention to me, you horrible traitorous fleabag. You're going to show us where Nics is, and you're going to help us get out of here. Or, I swear on my granny's motorbike, I'll snap your neck like a dry twig."

      The threats must have worked, because Sam whined, and cringed.

      "Where is Nics?" Chas asked him.

      "W-w-w-with Mr Cuckoo, o-o-of course," came a familiar voice from behind him.

      The sound of a gun being cocked echoed in the bare corridor.

      "T-t-t-turn around very slowly, please," said Jeremy. "And let go of Sam."

      Both men did so, holding their hands up in the air. Sam slunk over to Jeremy's side.

      "D-d-don't you know that it's not nice to be cruel to animals," Jeremy asked them reproachfully.

      "He betrayed us," said Chas simply.

      "He played us for fools," Spud elaborated. "Makes friends with us, helps rescue us from a very sticky situation indeed, only to turn around and hand us over to a complete and utter raving psychopath!"

      "Don't talk about Mr Cuckoo that way!" exploded Jeremy, his hands shaking.

      Sam looked up at him, and barked softly.

      "Y-y-y-you're right, you're right," said Jeremy, lowering his voice. "T-t-they're trying to make me angry, s-so they can gain advantage. Well, it won't happen."

      "Was that what we were doing," Spud asked Chas, who shrugged. "I thought we were just telling the truth."

      "W-w-where's the second disk?" asked Jeremy.

      "I hid it," said Chas. "If you want it, get your mutt to sniff it out."

      Sam growled, and Jeremy placed his free hand on Sam's head to comfort him.

      "N-n-now, that's not very polite. It's not Sam's fault, you know."

      "What," said Spud. "Did the devil make him do it then?"

      Jeremy grinned humourlessly.

      "Not quite. Walk with me."

      He waved the gun at the two men, pointing them towards the far end of the corridor. As they walked, he talked.

      "T-t-there's a certain twisted s-s-symmetry to the whole thing. It's all about a ghost who isn't.

      "T-t-t-that b-bloody woman, the one who killed my grandfather, w-well, she had a partner. A Mr. J. Bradford. An agent, like her. But one who was a little looser when it came to l-looking the other way while vital security information was suddenly miraculously turned into cold, hard cash.

      "She found out, just after the mission where she s-s-stole the second disk. And she was going to expose him. S-so he did her in. But he couldn't get the disk, it was lost.

      "S-she didn't go down easily, s-she cost him his eyes. A-and later on, when he got older, he slipped quietly into a coma, where he's been ever since.

      "Or that's what people think..." Jeremy finished smugly.

      "So, the devil didn't make Sam do it," said Spud. "His master's spirit did."

      "W-well done," smirked Jeremy. "You're not as stupid as you look."

      "I get that a lot," mumbled Spud.

      Chas broke in. "And in return for the disk, and us, Mr J. Bradford (not entirely deceased) gets a brand new shiny clockwork body, am I right?"

      Jeremy grinned even wider.

      "Excuse me for asking," said Chas. "But what is it you get out of all of this anyway? When you're the only non-clockwork thing on the face of the planet, isn't it going to make life a bit awkward?"

      Jeremy's face closed down like a trap.

      "Enough chitchat!" he shouted at them as Sam growled. "I'll get everything that I could ever want when this plan is complete! I'll get my revenge!!"

      He waved the gun at them again, and directed them through the double doors at the end of the corridor, into the main room of the laboratory.

      The set-up inside hadn't changed. The machine with the big red button and the LED display still stood off to one side, the two beds with their padded restraints still stood in the middle. Nics sat on one of them, kicking her legs and looking very glum. The gold collar was snug around her neck, though from the look of the red skin around it, she'd been trying to pull it off.

      A single row of golden clockwork dragons ringed the beds, all their red jewelled eyes were watching her unblinking. She looked up when she heard the footsteps.

      "Oh, Chas," she said, despairing. "Why did you come back? You at least could have been safe!"

      "Hush, babes," he told her. "Couldn't leave my best bird behind, now could I?"

      She smiled at him, with a hefty dose of sorrow. Jeremy snapped an order, and the ring of dragons opened up. Chas and Spud were ushered into the ring, another order, and the line of dragons closed ranks again.

      Jeremy and Sam then disappeared behind one of the arcane machines, leaving the three friends alone, except for the dragons.

      Just then a cardboard pizza box on a parachute came floating through the air to land neatly on Spud's lap. A waft of steam came from it, bringing the tantalising smell of fresh pizza.

      "Brilliant," he said. "I'm starving!"

      He opened up the pizza box and offered some to the other two.

      "Just pick off the bits of banana if you don't want them," he told them, before shoving one particularly large piece into his mouth.

      Nics declined, looking slightly ill, but Chas accepted with gusto. In no time at all the two lads had devoured the pizza, leaving only the greasy box behind.

      "Right," said Spud, wiping the pizza grease and some of his face paint off on the back on his hand. "Orders received and understood. I know what to do now."

      "Brilliant," said Chas. "What are you going to do then?"

      "Stop Mr Cuckoo and save the world of course," Spud told him.

      "And how exactly are you going to do that then?" asked Chas.

      "Um... well, that's the bit they didn't exactly give a lot of detail on..." trailed off Spud.

      Chas rolled his eyes, and put one comforting arm around Nics. She looked up at him and smiled, accepting his touch.

      "You're still alright?" she asked him.

      "Yeah," he said. "Well, except for the whole being taken prisoner by an evil genius thing."

      "You're not upset about... you know... clockwork?"

      He looked her straight in the eyes for a moment, then gently but firmly pulled her chin up and kissed her, very thoroughly.

      They didn't come up for air for several minutes. Spud looked embarrassed. He probably blushed, but it was hard to tell underneath all the makeup.

      "Jeez... get a room..." he mumbled after a minute.

      The couple unlocked their lips and glared at him.

      "Sorry..." he mumbled, even lower.

      Chas cuffed him affectionately on the arm.

      "Let's get our heads together and plan a way out of this mess," he said.

      And so they did.

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Five: The Theatre Of The Absurd

      The woman led them to the stage door of a nearby theatre.

      "At least you're already in costume," she told Spud.

      Backstage all was chaos. The woman in the white dress with the red boots was joined by a woman in a red dress with white boots. Together they strong-armed Spud to the edge of the stage, keeping him waiting in the wings for his cue.

      Spud clutched the banana, and cast pleading looks at Chas, but Chas was lost in thought and paying no attention to what was going on around him.

      "Remember... April..." he muttered to himself.

      The entire stage was lit only by a single spotlight, centred on a very large table, with very large chairs, on which was laid a very large tea set. All of the props were made of foam, painted in lurid and fluorescent colours.

      There was a man on stage, dressed in a fluorescent green pin striped suit making his bows to rapturous applause from the audience.

      "What does he do?" Spud asked the two women holding him tight.

      "He's the first man in the world to swallow a watermelon whole," the woman in red replied.

      "Damn, I missed it!" Spud pouted as the man came offstage.

      He was replaced by two actors, a man and a woman, both dressed in outlandish costumes of the raided-a-scrap yard variety. They both wore elaborate clown makeup, and were talking quite normally about their trip to the supermarket, and their day at the office.

      As far as Spud could tell, there was absolutely nothing funny at all about what they were saying; in fact it sounded incredibly dull to him. But the unseen audience, out behind the stage lights, were laughing uproariously, and applauding every second word.

      After five minutes or so, the two actors simply got up and walked off stage. With a shove, the two women pushed Spud, still clutching the banana, out onto the stage, straight into the glare of the spotlight.

      Silence from the audience greeted him. He raised one hand to shield his eyes, the better to be able to peer into the gloom beyond the stage and see who was there. But it didn't help.

      He turned on his heel and tried to walk offstage. But the two women were waiting for him, and just shoved him back on again.

      "Chas!" he called out to the wings. But Chas was staring into space, turning the mother-of-pearl disk over and over in his hands.

      "Chas!!" yelled Spud again, a tinge of hysteria creeping into his voice. "Help!"

      The theatre was deathly silent.

      "Fuck," said Chas softly, and put the disk back into his pocket. Ignoring the audience, and ignoring the actors clustered around in the wings, he strode directly onto the stage.

      With one dramatic movement he swept the table clean of crockery, and with another he flung it across the stage. Underneath the table was a design set into the wood of the stage, an enormous cogwheel. He knelt down at the very centre of the wheel and pulled.

      Smoothly a trapdoor came up, letting a shaft of brilliant white light into the gloom of the theatre. Chas disappeared down into it.

      Spud gawped a minute, then followed him. The sound of rapturous applause followed him, cut off abruptly by the slam of the closing trapdoor.

      They were in Mr Cuckoo's lair once more.

      "Right," said Spud. "Now what?"

      Chas smiled grimly, and started walking.

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Four: Mimes Do It In Silence

      "Thanks mate," Chas said to the mouse as he ran easily along the corridors of Mr Cuckoo's secret base. "So, he thinks there's nothing we can do, does he? We'll show him!"

      The mouse squeaked in agreement, and waving a paw, indicated a turning. They passed through a very ordinary door indeed and suddenly they were out and into the ground floor of what looked like an art gallery.

      Chas turned to look at the door behind him. It was painted blue with a brass door knocker, which was engraved with cogwheels. It was also completely surrounded by a gilt picture frame.

      A man dressed all in black with a silly little beard and holding a champagne flute stared at him. Beside him was a woman with peacock's feathers in her hair and an air of terminal boredom.

      "'Scuse me," said Chas to them. "Is this the way to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party?"

      The man and woman turned quickly on their heels and studiously admired the painting behind them of a giant light switch. Chas grinned, and shut the door.

      They found Spud down the road from the gallery. He was dressed in a black and white mime's costume, with the full white face paint. Spud looked like he was yelling something, and was pounding on an invisible wall in front of him. Up against the wall a few feet away was a little black box that looked like a transistor radio. A floppy black beret with a few coins in it lay on the path.

      Spud waved frantically when he saw Chas, his mouth moving like he was talking a mile a minute. He kept pounding on the invisible wall but not a sound could be heard from him. Chas looked at the scene, thought a minute and walked over to the transistor radio, giving it a hefty kick.

      The radio bounced off the wall and shattered, spilling wires and electronic bits all over the ground.

      "... the hell out of here!!" Spud yelled, then yelped as his fist met no resistance, and he fell forward.

      He staggered a few steps, and caught himself.

      "That," he said, looking at Chas, "was truly horrible."

      A passer-by, a woman with long hair, and a white flower tucked behind one ear looked at them curiously.

      "I'm not a fucking mime!" Spud yelled after her, as she hurried down the corridor. He pulled up the edges of the black polo neck he was wearing, and tried to wipe the thick greasepaint off his face. It didn't move a fraction of an inch.

      "Come on," said Chas, "we don't have a lot of time. Nics is still in there, and there's about two hours left before Cuckoo's plan kills all life on Earth."

      "Right," said Spud, striding off down the tunnel, then stopping. "Um... where exactly?"

      "Follow me," said Chas.

      As they walked hurriedly back to the art gallery, Chas filled Spud in on the situation. The mouse still sat in Chas' breast pocket, front legs over the edge of it, looking out.

      "Woah," said Spud. "So he's going to destroy all life on earth and replace it with his horrible clockwork things?"

      "Yup."

      "And we've no idea how exactly this plan is going to happen, only that there's a machine with a big red button that talks to you involved?"

      "Nope, and yup. Except the machine talks, not the big red button."

      Spud stopped suddenly and looked all around. They were on a relatively quiet street, with cabs and the occasional pedestrian walking past.

      "What the hell are you doing?!" snapped Chas. "Nics is still in there, remember?"

      "I'm looking for the fucking film cameras!" Spud yelled back. "This is just too fucked up to be anything other than a sick joke!"

      "Hey, you're the secret agent!" Chas retorted. "You should be used to this sort of shit!"

      "Not me, not Mrs. Molloy's little boy - I was way low down in the secret agent business. Hell, they couldn't even trust me to tie my own bloody shoelaces!"

      "And now the truth comes out," hissed Chas, fuming.

      "I think we should cut our losses and run," said Spud. "Get in touch with the Agency, they'll know what to do."

      Chas stared at him for one long moment, then quick as a flash grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shoved him up against the crumbling brickwork of an old wall.

      "You listen to me, you miserable piece of shit, and you listen good. Nics is still in there, and I'm not leaving her. And you're going to help me, understand?"

      The mouse squeaked in a worried tone. Spud nodded weakly, and Chas let him go.

      A man walking a rat on the end of a lead gave them both a funny look.

      "What?" Chas challenged him. "You didn't know that it was national beat up a mime day today?"

      From behind him, Spud snorted and burst out laughing. Chas looked at him incredulously for a moment, then he too started to snigger.

      "Come on," said Spud, starting to walk down the road again. "Time's a wasting..."

      Chas' long legs only took a stride or two to catch up with him.

      "Dude, I can't believe it though," said Spud. "You're girlfriend's an android!"

      And he reached out one fist and punched Chas in a friendly way on his cast.

      The cast broke neatly in two and fell onto the pavement. So did the mother-of-pearl disk, but Chas grabbed it as quickly as he could, looking at it anxiously for any signs of damage. There were none, he quickly stuffed it into his jeans pocket.

      Spud picked up the two halves of the cast and looked at them. Inside one half was the word "REMEMBER", inside the second was the word "APRIL".

      "Remember April," he said. "What the hell does that all mean?"

      "Figure it out later," said Chas, scratching the back of his hand with an expression of bliss on his face. "God, that feels good!"

      The art gallery was still open, and still full of pretentious gits. Chas and Spud walked quickly through the main door to find themselves in the midst of a new show.

      Spud shot dirty looks at the members of the art critic scene who insisted on stopping him to ask if he was part of some new performance art piece. Unfortunately, the makeup didn't help to make this meaning clear.

      One of the men was smoking. "Scuse me, mate," Spud asked him. "You got a lighter I can borrow?"

      The critics, like a flock of blackbirds took their opportunity to swarm around him, firing so many questions that he never heard the man's reply.

      "Look, I'm a bit busy now," he told them. "The world's going to end, so if you'll just excuse me..."

      He ran after Chas, ignoring the murmurs of "simply wonderful", "outstandingly new", "such a charming post-modern take on the whole traditional oeuvre of the street performer".

       

      Chas stood in front of the door in the picture frame, hands on the door handle, shaking it.

      "It's locked tight," he said.

      "Kick it in," suggested Spud. So Chas tried. No joy. Spud glanced up and down the section of gallery. People were watching them with the expression of critics judging a new piece of performance art.

      "Together then," Spud said. "On three."

      The two boys took several steps backwards and were about to charge the door when a frantic squeaking came from the mouse in Chas' breast pocket.

      Chas looked down.

      "Sorry, mate, here," and he offered the mouse a hand down to the ground.

      The mouse retreated to a safe distance.

      "Ready?" asked Spud. "One... two... three..."

      And with a roar the two men charged the door, only to bounce off it in a rather painful manner. The mouse winced, and covered its eye with its paws. The door remained as it was, undented, and maybe even a little bit smug.

      "Fuck," said Spud. "Guess that's not going to work."

      Chas ignored him, and went back to pounding on the door until a bouncer came up and politely but firmly ejected them both.

      They landed in the gutter outside the art gallery, the mouse running along to squeak at them urgently.

      "I know, I know," Chas told it as he picked himself and the mouse up. The mouse settled back into his pocket.

      "You know," mumbled Spud, his face still down in the gutter. "I don't like this modern art stuff."

      He raised his head up.

     

      "I mean, what's the point of it? I'm pretty sure I saw a photo of paint drying in there. How pointless is that?"

      He trailed off as he spotted a pair of feet standing in front of his face. Normal sized feet, but clad in the most outlandish pair of bright red thigh high platform boots with silver buckles. Spud looked up to see the owner of said boots, and looked into the face of a woman.

      Perhaps it would be more precise to say he looked into the mask that was being worn by a woman. It was made out of duck feathers. She also wore a very tight dress that was made out of an ice-white fabric that glowed.

      She held out one hand to him. It had a fingerless glove on it, of the sort you'd wear in winter, made of unravelling pink wool.

      "You're late," she told him as she helped him to his feet. "The director's fit to be tied, and you're on in five minutes."

      "What? Where? What?" Spud gaped at her.

      She handed him a double sized banana made out of Styrofoam and painted in fluorescent paint.

      "Come on!" she told him, urgently, and strode off without looking to see if they were following. She had a very attractive walk.

      Spud looked at Chas, who shrugged.

      "Might as well," Chas said. His brow was furrowed, as if he was trying to remember something.

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Three: Friends in Low Places

      "How does it feel, my dear?" asked Mr Cuckoo solicitously as he clipped the collar around Nics' neck.

      "A bit tight," she said, her voice rough. "But I don't feel any different."

      "Not yet, my dear..." he said.

      Jeremy stared at Nics, at the flesh of her neck that was encased in the gold collar. He shuffled over to Mr Cuckoo, and whispered something in his ear.

      Mr Cuckoo smiled at him indulgently.

      "Of course," he said. "You are welcome to her. Once I've finished my experiments."

      Jeremy smiled, and shuffled away again.

      Mr Cuckoo slowly undid Nics’ restraints, and stood back.

      "You may go and do whatever you wish now, my dear," he said. "None of us will stop you. Will we?"

      All at once the hundred and one gold dragons nodded, as did Barbra and Jeremy, and Barbra's clockwork pets.

      Nics didn't stop to question, she was off the bed and straight to Chas' side, fumbling at the thick straps to release him.

      "Thanks, babes," he said, helping her with the straps on his legs. "Don't know what they're playing at, but let's get the hell out of here."

      He swung his legs off the bed, and they both were off, running to the exit.

      "Thanks for calling!" called Mr Cuckoo cheerfully. "Please come back again soon!"

      Nics had just touched the door handle when the red stone on her necklace flashed.

      "Nicola, stop," ordered Mr Cuckoo.

      She stopped as abruptly as if she had been flash frozen, and no amount of Chas pulling at her would make her move again.

      Her eyes pleaded with him:

      "Help me," she mouthed, but no sound came from her terrified throat.

      "Bring the boy to me," ordered Mr Cuckoo, as the ruby flashed again.

      Nics reached out and grabbed Chas firmly with both hands. With surprising strength she dragged him across the floor, back to the beds.

      Mr Cuckoo was rubbing his hands in glee.

      "Drop him on the floor."

      Nics did so, wincing as Chas hit the ground with a thud. He sat up immediately, got into a crouch as if preparing to sprint away.

      "You can still speak, can't you?" Mr Cuckoo asked her.

      "Yes," she said, tears in her eyes. "You bastard."

      "Now, now," Barbra scolded, "don't address Mr Cuckoo like that, he doesn't like it."

      "I think, Barbra," Mr Cuckoo said grandly, "that from now I should like very much to be called Master."

      She bowed. "As you wish, Master."

      "Now, Nicola," he said. "If I were to tell you that the big red button on my machine over there is the button to press to set off the whole nefarious chain of events that I have planned to exterminate all life on Earth, would you push it?"

      "No way!" she cried. "Never!"

      Jeremy's brow furrowed in puzzlement.

      "Even if I were to kill your boyfriend in front of your eyes?" Mr Cuckoo asked, in an inquiring tone of voice, like someone discussing the possibility of later rain.

      Chas stood up, and took a step towards her. She looked at him, and he gazed back at her, steel in his expression.

      "I'm not worth the world, Nics," he told her. "You wouldn't do it."

      Biting her lip, she turned back to Mr Cuckoo.

      "No," she told him, firmly.

      "E-e-excuse me," interjected Jeremy. "All life on Earth?"

      "Except yours, of course, my dear boy," back-pedalled Mr Cuckoo smoothly.

      Sam barked. Mr Cuckoo turned to him.

      "Yes, I am well aware of our arrangement," Mr Cuckoo told him in an exasperated tone of voice. "But you're not exactly alive at the moment anyway."

      Sam whined, and slunk dejectedly off to hide behind some machinery.

      "So," said Mr Cuckoo, turning back to Nics. "We've established that you would not press that button of your own free will - correct?"

      "Yes," she said, looking straight at him.

      "The button is set to give a three hour countdown. Nicola, go press the button."

      The jewel flashed. Nics swore at him, fighting the movement of her own body as it walked towards the machine. Chas grabbed her arm, trying to hold it back, but he could no more stop her from going than he could have stopped a steam train.

      Nics reached out and pressed the big red button. A male voice came from the machine.

      "Thank you for pressing the big red button. The end of the world will happen in three hours from the tone."

      The machine beeped, and the red LED display started counting the seconds down.

      "Oh God, what have I done?" cried Nics.

      "Only part of what has to be done," Mr Cuckoo told her. "Now take the second disk from your boyfriend, using force."

      Nics pulled her right arm back, ready to deliver a blow to Chas' face.

      "I'm sorry!" she cried, and swung at him.

      Chas ducked and rolled, and she missed completely. There followed a few seconds of frantic running around the laboratory, Nics chasing Chas, while all the while a manically laughing Mr Cuckoo looked on.

      Nics finally caught Chas, just by the exit. But just as she was about to slug him in the jaw, a mouse ran up the front of his shirt, put its little face up to her nose, opened its mouth wide, stuck its tongue out at her and made a loud squeaking sound.

      Nics jumped back, dropping Chas. The mouse did a flying leap across to her shirt and bit her sharply on the end of her nose.

      She went into total hysterics as the mouse jumped back onto Chas. Chas didn’t waste any time in taking the opportunity to make a break for the door.

      The door swung shut, just as he heard Mr Cuckoo say:

      “Oh, let the boy go. He'll be back to save his girlfriend. And what can he do in two hours and fifty six minutes anyway?"