See Part One for Disclaimers
Part Four
The Rubber Ducky began its run against the programmers and bureaucrats lining the windows on the 100th floor. The reserve Valkyries waited by the side doors as Isharell piloted the Rubber Ducky towards the tower.
From the catapults below, another barrage of cookies (this time Oatmeal Raisin with Chocolate Chunks) pelted the tower and sent those inside away from the windows.
The Ducky swung in next to the windows and the gangplank shot out. As the Ducky fired a fierce blast of Sugar Cookies into the room, the reserve Valkyries disembarked and threw themselves into the building, huddling behind a row of desks and potted plants. Daonie gave Ish a thumbs-up, and the pilot retracted the boarding plank and the ship shot up into the air.
"Okay, we've got the eggs loaded," Jae61, the Navigator (and temporary gunner) reported. Ish nodded. "Are the tanks still full?" she asked, and was answered in the affirmative. "Let's hold back and see if we're needed."
The Rubber Ducky Attack Crew began firing on the villainous Programmers, all clustered together near the double doors leading to the villain's lair. The Valkyries used everything they had, cookies, cupcakes, jellybeans and flamethrowers. In moments, they had forced the evil employees away from the stairs, enabling the Ground Crew to come up out of the stairwell, and join in the final assault.
The Programmers were now huddled together against the far wall, which had originally been covered with posters of hit programs but was now mostly covered with cookie crumbs and ashes from the matching flamethrowers.
Suddenly, a bunch of muscle-bound guys wearing funky black leather clothes like the nameless goons in the Giant Mole episode came running in from a side corridor, firing at the Valiant Valkyries. The ladies were pinned down in the crossfire, and yelled on the radio for aid.
The fearless flight crew of the Rubber Ducky answered the call. Hundreds of leftover Easter Eggs and candies shot from her guns. The bad guys were smeared with chocolate and marshmallow, sprayed from a tank on the Ducky's side.
Another barrage of cookies and letters came up from the catapults on the ground, doing untold damage to the villains before them.
Then Isharell gave the command to release the ultimate weapon, a final, humiliating shower of ice-cold milk, delivered through a fire hose, which sent the disheartened villains all slipping and sliding to the floor. "I hope you're all LACTOSE INTOLERANT!" She yelled, and all the Valkyries laughed.
They quickly tied the evil Programmers and their lackeys up with phone and computer cords, using their feather boas like whips on the one or two muscle-bound flunkies who still looked like fighting. After a few feather-burned snaps in the tush, even the biggest villain whimpered and cowered on the floor. As they finished subduing the last of the evil protectors, Captain Lorrellai made a gruesome discovery.
"The -- the programmers are all wearing Cortical Lobe Implants!" She exclaimed.
Back in the TGC headquarters, GeoLady frowned, and looked at her companions. "This means they weren't responsible for their actions. THEY didn't mean to mess with our show at all." The rest of the TGC nodded their heads, and sighed at the horrible tragedy.
"Even the mind of a gerbil," one said, "is a terrible thing to waste."
Jules and Passepartout stared after Fogg and the psychotically happy Evil Isharell with horror. They had heard the bedroom door close behind the insane Evil Twin and their unfortunate friend, followed by more of her mad laughter. Now, all was silent.
"Poor Fogg!" Gasped Jules, "What do you think she will do to him?"
Passepartout stopped struggling to free himself and looked at Jules in astonishment. "Master Jules," he began hesitantly, "Be remembering the time we discussed, er, purity?"
"Y-es," answered Jules cautiously.
Passepartout waited, and then shook his head in sorrow. "I am still having the trouble remembering that you are French," he mused.
Jules frowned. "What are you -- OH!" He blushed. "Is THAT what she wants with Fogg?"
Passepartout sighed. "Yes, THAT is why she is always chasing after the Master."
Jules gulped. "And -- and then WE'RE next?"
"It is appearing so, Master Jules."
Jules moaned. "I don't feel so good...."
Passepartout nodded sympathetically. "Passepartout is feeling the queasy seasickness too."
Jules looked at him, with desperation in his eyes. "Do you think she'd -- well.... NOT, if I told her I was sick?"
"No, I be thinking she not care even if you are dead," Answered the valet soberly.
Jules closed his eyes. "Oh, no." His eyes popped back open. "How would that work if I were dead?"
At last, the intrepid Ground Crew had reached their goal! The Rubber Ducky hovered outside the windows of the 100th floor, another load of jellybeans ready and waiting.
Gaelle, Lorrellai, and the other ladies all walked through the double doors leading to the Evil Villain's lair, weapons at the ready. The room was enormous. The ceiling, a gigantic dome, 80 feet high, was of glass and marble. A large receptionists desk stood abandoned near the door. Just behind the desk, covering the room from side to side, long red velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling to the floor.
The ladies entered the room quickly, moving to the sides of the room in order to leave the center clear, in case the Ducky's weapons were needed.
Off to one side of the room stood a large round dais, raised about a foot from the floor. Made of burnished steel, it glowed in the indirect lighting. As they entered, the center of the dais began to rise, smoke billowing from its base. They slowly approached the dais, as the center continued to rise, until they finally faced a gleaming column about eight feet in diameter, and ten feet high. Slowly, the giant column began to turn, still sending little puffs of smoke into the room.
The column was hollow, the opposite side open to the room. As it turned, the Valkyries were able to see what was inside. Here sat the Evil Leader of the League of Darkness, the awful Count Gregory, grinning horribly, and sending further billows of smoke out into the air.
"Welcome, Ladies," the horrid Cyborg purred. "I have been waiting for you for such a long time now."
The Valkyries hesitated, then General Gaelle stepped forward. "All right, Count Gregory. We've defeated all your guards. Turn over the remaining hostages now, or we will TAKE them from you!"
Count Gregory laughed, the sound seeming to echo from the very walls. He shook his horrible head at the intrepid Valkyries. "You think it's over, because you've beaten my guards and programmers?" Once again, his booming laugh filled the room. "Oh, you poor things! You think you are so clever with your Rubber Ducky and your cute little matching flamethrowers! You pitiful fools! - Oh! Dear me, I'm sorry, I meant 'Ladies.'" He laughed, "Ha! 'Ladies!' Do you want to see my idea of a Lady? Shall I show you my Greatest Achievement?" He waved one hand in the air, indicating the red velvet curtain. "I'll show you a REAL Lady -- My Perfect Woman!"
The Valkyries turned with trepidation, facing the red velvet curtains as they slowly began to open, revealing Count Gregory's prize.
Evil Isharell dragged Phileas into his bedroom. With a great effort, she finally managed to get him onto the bed, and stood looking down at him with the adoring expression of a very hungry lioness contemplating a free, all-you-can-eat steak dinner.
She pulled out her squirt gun, hesitated, and tossed it out the window, giggling, "No ice water needed here!" Her scarlet lips curved into a wicked smile, and she shivered with antici...pation.
Phileas realized his terrible danger, but it was far too late. There was no escape. No matter how he struggled, he could not free himself from his bright pink bonds.
He found himself looking at the bunny ears of Evil Ish. 'Passepartout is right,' he thought, 'they ARE evil.' Oh, they were cute and fluffy enough, but somehow the fluffiness had a strange little... extra fluff, a rather nasty, spiky fluff, that was somehow different from normal cute bunny ears. They were also extra-pointy at the ends, and one ear drooped in a very twisty and wicked-looking manner. 'They are not only Evil Bunny Ears,' he thought in dismay, 'they are RABID Evil Bunny Ears.'
She smiled down at him, and cackled once more.
"At last, my adorable hunky-poo," she crooned. "You are MINE!" And without further ado, she pounced upon poor Phileas.
"My God," Phileas gasped in horror, "I am about to be ravished by a cackling mad woman wearing evil fluffy bunny ears!"
In the 100th floor office of Count Gregory, the curtains parted, and spotlights began flashing around the room. An Announcers voice resounded from the speakers, revealing the shocking truth about next season: "With 2 Full Hours of Original Programming In Prime Time Each and Every Night!!"
Huge TV screens covered the walls, and the Announcers voice continued on in SFC's relentless quest for self-promotion, "YES, Ladies and Gentlemen, We Have the Show You Have ALL Been BEGGING For!!!!"
More lights began flashing, and the voice rose to a fevered pitch, "We Are Pleased to Announce Next Season's Forthcoming Great Programming Coup -- A Guaranteed Ratings Monster, -- 'Straight from The Outer Limits of Taste, The Love-Child of Black Scorpion and John Edward in her Nearly Invisible Costume'!!!"
The Valiant Victorian Valkyries were momentarily stunned by the horrific vision looming before them, picked out by the flashing, spinning lights like a mirrored ball in a disco.
At the center of the room stood the object of all this garish promotion. A gigantic, 50 foot statue paid tribute to the Sci-Fi Channel's Secret Evil Plan. The Valkyries were transfixed by the sight of a huge, buxom woman wearing the barest of bare black rubber minimums, with a mask that was bigger than the rest of her costume, carrying a microphone and smiling out through vapid eyes while intoning the words: "I'll be gentle."
Count Gregory howled with malicious glee, and shouted, "Now that's what I call a Lady! Play nice with your guests, dear."
As they stared, the huge animatronic bimbo stirred, and stepped forward, the 6 ft heels of her black leather boots crunching on the marble floor, cracking and dulling its glossy finish beyond all hope of floor wax. "Yes, Gregory Darling," she cooed.
Gasping in horror, the Valkyries made a sign warding off the Evil Eyeshadow, and regrouped behind the abandoned receptionist desk. The Luggage scuttled after them and stood guard.
[The cameraman huddled with them, and continued filming this exclusive footage.]
"Good God!" gasped General Gaelle in shock. "It's worse than I ever imagined!"
"Whatever shall we do, against such loathsome and exploitative pulchritude?" Demanded Captain Lorrellai, glaring over her shoulder at the horrendous effigy.
Meanwhile, behind the lines, the other Grey Caballeros, feverishly inventing and baking new weapons, stared in horror at the image of the enormous Love-Child, now appearing on their view screens. VicciV, who had bravely left her sickbed in order to help the TGC during the battle, frowned grimly.
"No," gasped Ephian, "it cannot be!" She stared in shock at her comrades. The other Grey
Caballeros shook their heads in despair.
"Wait!" Cried Aleana, "I have an idea!" As she began explaining her plan, Outpostlost radioed the Ground Crew, telling them to hold on while they MacGyver'd something together that might defeat their enemy.
Jules and Passepartout continued to struggle with their bonds. But it seemed the Evil Twins knew their knots. Obviously one or another of them had spent far too much time with a band of renegade and degenerate Boy Scouts. The men were unable to free themselves.
"Poor Fogg," gasped Jules for the tenth time. Passepartout sighed in agreement.
"I have been thinking," Jules said slowly, a moment later. "I don't think Faeling is the scene writer. It just doesn't feel like her, somehow."
Passepartout stared at him. "Master Jules, what difference is it making who is the scene writer?"
"Well, if we could figure out who it was, we might be able to understand the point of it all."
Passepartout was astonished. "Point? You are thinking all this evilness has a point? Are you sure you have not been being hit on the head?"
"Of course not!" Answered Jules furiously. "Every good story has a plot, and -"
"Well I am thinking that here we are having a problem then, Master Jules," Replied the valet sadly. "This is not being a good time story. This is being a very twisted and evil story, filled with -- with much twistyness and evilness. Passepartout is fearing it is being written by one of the Evil Twins -- and she is being evil alone in that room with my poor Master right now!"
Jules gasped and shuddered with horror. "No! I cannot think that! Why, we -- we'd have no more chance than a -- a turkey dinner in a shark tank!"
Passepartout ground his teeth, and forced himself into a sitting position. "If I can be getting to the table," he panted, "maybe something can be knocked off that can be chopping the ropes."
"Yarn," corrected Jules absently. He watched the valet struggle across the room. "Passepartout," he called. The valet paused to rest.
"Yes, Master Jules?"
"I -- I haven't heard anything from Fogg's room for several minutes. You don't think -"
Passepartout's anxious expression mirrored his own. "The Master is very brave," he said at last. "He will not be crying for help, I am thinking."
Jules swallowed. "Well, that's how I will go. She won't get one word out of me. I won't give her the satisfaction!" He lifted his chin with an expression of heroic determination.
Passepartout gave Verne a slightly perplexed look. He was still not certain that Jules properly understood the situation. He replayed their previous conversations with Jules' 'pure virility' in mind and sighed regretfully. 'I wonder what he is thinking? Probably that she wants the special tutoring in learning to speak the foreign languages,' he thought pityingly. 'Or can he be thinking she is wanting the secrets to special cooking recipes, or -- or -- who knows?' Passepartout shook his head, and continued his struggle across the floor. 'We must be escaping, or Master Jules is in for a very rude awakenupiting.'
It occurred to the valet that Jules stood (or, rather, lay) in rather desperate need of helpful advise. However, he felt quite unequal to the task. 'If we are ever escaping from this,' he thought, 'I must be asking the Master to give him some helpful words about the beeses and the little birdies. Poor Master Jules is TOO filled with purity for his own goodness sake.'
Hiding behind the reception desk in the Evil Villain's lair, the Valkyries shook their heads, praying for a miracle, as the Ratings Monster loomed ever closer. The Love-Child cracked the cord of her microphone like a whip, barely missing the intrepid band. "'Do not be alarmed,'" she intoned woodenly, "'Be very, very frightened....'"
Isharell, aboard the HMS Rubber Ducky, still waiting for a chance to intervene, uttered a scream of rage. "That evil strumpet! NOW she's quoting from Agrajag's revenge speech in Life, the Universe and Everything! NOBODY messes with the Hitchhiker's Guide while Number 42 is around!" She swung the Ducky down, and hovered opposite the attack party on the 100th floor. "General Gaelle, Permission to use Ultimate Cookie!"
Gaelle, breathlessly dodging another blow from the micro-whip, yelled out "Permission Granted, and tell the TGC to HURRY!!!" The Valkyries dodged more blows from the gigantic Ratings Monster, while The Luggage snapped at her ankles and ran in and out between the Love-Child's feet, slowing her down.
"Okey dokey," Isharell yelled, and unleashed a volley of Gaelle's sister's homemade cookies, hardest substance known to woman or man. The confectionary hockey pucks tore through the glass windows and marble columns like bricks through butter, but they bounced harmlessly off the horrid Love Child's black rubber costume. The impact of the next barrage of Ultimate Cookies did knock the behemoth back a few steps. She slipped on the cookie-strewn cracked marble floor and fell on her unprotected (and mostly uncovered) derriere. She uttered a shriek of rage and pain, "Oh, no! I got sand in my thong! Oh, the itchy pain! AAAACCCKKKK!!!"
Isharell, green eyes flashing madly, cackled with glee. "I TOLD you not to leave that butt exposed!!!" The remaining members of the Rubber Ducky flight crew stared in amazement at their psychotic pilot. No one could have guessed the quiet, mousy little Society Member would turn into such a raging, noisy lunatic. She shook her fists in the air with glee. "You messed with the WRONG bunch of fans!"
"Hold the Ducky in position," called VicciV through her radio. "We are about to send in reinforcements, but may need a distraction,"
"Roger Dodger, old Codger!" shrieked Ish, yelling over her shoulder, "Okay, ladies, get another load ready."
VicciV stared at her radio in shock. She turned to her fellow Caballeros, "Remind me when this is over to have her sedated."
IsaacV, her son, grinned, "I could tell one of the others to take over."
"No, no, the Ducky responds better to Ish. It started out as her brother's boat first, you see, before it was adopted and adapted by the ABS."
"Okay," yelled Aleana from the other room, "Alert the Valkyries! We're sending in the reinforcements!"
["Davodd here, in the Express Elevator, en route to the Evil Villain's Lair. The building has suddenly begun to shake, from an unknown cause -- Wait! I am getting a special report from one of my sources on the ground." He paused, one hand pressed to his ear, listening intently. Every few seconds, he and his camera crew were jostled as the building quavered. He looked into the camera again, bracing himself against the wall, just as the building quaked again. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Those amazing geniuses of The Grey Cabal are sending in reinforcements! There is -- there appears to be a -- a lone figure climbing up the side of the building! It is 60 feet tall! It's -- it's -- oh, no! I've lost the signal!"]
Aboard the Rubber Ducky, the entire crew stood frozen, staring at the 'reinforcements' in awe.
Isharell shook her head. "I don't believe it," she whispered numbly.
Her companions stood mute, watching the huge figure climbing the side of the building, heading inexorably for the 100th floor. "It's like -- like King Kong," one said.
"Yeah. Only -- not as hairy," the pilot replied.
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