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Captain Scarlet and The Mysterons
Souls of the Brave
By Big Dave
Part II
Three weeks later, Captains Scarlet, Blue and Black all sat in the Cloudbase control room in front of Colonel White. Behind them, Lieutenant Green busied himself at his computer console.
Colonel White spoke:
“In recent weeks, our friend and comrade Captain Black was released from
Mysteron control. Now, after three weeks recovery and
tests of medical and physical fitness, Doctor Fawn and I see fit for him to
return to duty. However, I am required to have the consent of at least two other
senior officers of Spectrum. Captain Scarlet and Captain Blue, I wish your
decision upon the matter.”
“Certainly Colonel.”
“Of course, Sir,”
were the two replies to White.
“Thank You
Captains,” said White before turning to Captain Black. “Captain Black, it is
nice to have you back with us.”
“Its nice to be back
at Spectrum, sir,” said Black, before standing to leave the room with his
colleagues.
The three captains
entered the promenade deck to be greeted by several apprehensive faces. Conrad
Turner walked into the middle of the room, with a very solemn face before
punching the air and leaping several feet from the ground.
Captain Scarlet
scanned the room before calling for quiet and turning to Captain Black: “Conrad,
on behalf of all of us, I
would like to say how pleased we are to have you back. And to celebrate,
Captains Blue, Ochre, Magenta, Lieutenant Green and I have organised a week in
San Francisco.”
Captain Black
surveyed the room before speaking.
“Well, I would like
to thank you all for your generosity and have one thing to say: Party On!”
Several hours later,
six men stood in the arrivals lounge at San Francisco International Airport.
Captain Scarlet was
in a pair of Levi jeans, a Budweiser T-shirt and red bomber jacket; Captain
Blue, cream trousers a light blue shirt and Jaguar jacket; Captain Ochre, a pair
of Bootleg jeans, Adidas jumper and a pair of yellow Oakly Sunglasses; Captain
Magenta, another pair of Levi jeans, a U.S.S. Missouri Bomber Jacket along with
a Team Penske baseball hat. Lieutenant Green wore Levi jeans a Coca Cola T-shirt
and an Adidas jacket. Captain Black wore Bootleg jeans, a New Zealand rugby
shirt, and a leather jacket.
Making there way to the airport car
depot, Paul, Richard and Conrad walked into the office, and a few minutes later,
drove out of the Car Park in three Spectrum Range Rovers, pulling up in front of
Adam, Patrick and Seymour. Adam climbing into Paul’s car, Patrick into Richard’s
and Seymour into Conrad‘s.
All three Range Rovers stood outside the office for a few minutes, with
three lusty 4.6 litre V8 engine burbling away underneath them. Then Paul threw
his machine into gear and performed a four-wheel spin; followed by the other two
cars, he roared of into the city.
The three cars soon pulled up outside a
raving club and Paul stopped his engine. The others followed suit and the six
men walked into the club. Sitting at the bar, Richard turned to Paul.
“Hey, you’re
supposed to be a good drinker, Paul. You up for a shot competition?”
“Is that a serious
challenge, Richard?” came a sincere reply. The nod was all he needed.
Paul turned to the
barman. “Smirnoff ice shots until one of us falls off his stool.” The barman
nodded and put two shots on the bar; both were downed quickly. Each enjoyed a
further ten shots, before Richard poured half his twelfth down his shirt and
fell backwards with his thirteenth.
Patrick looked at
Conrad. “Hey, old buddy, you gonna
take Paul on?”
“Do Lemmings like
cliffs? Yes.” He then moved over to Richard’s stool, whilst Adam and Seymour
picked up its former occupant.
Both Paul and Conrad
enjoyed a further twenty-six shots, their Mysteronised bodies absorbing the
alcohol like a sponge. By this time, a now slightly drunken Adam turned and
decided that they were getting nowhere, and they should go and do something
else. Returning to the cars, neither Paul nor Conrad showed any sign of
drunkenness, whilst Richard was generally sober, after taking an anti alcohol
pill. All six boarded their cars, and set off back into the city.
Coming across a
street racing gang, Conrad called the other cars on the CB set in the car and
told them to wait where they were. He then drove off and returned fifteen
minutes later with a S.P.V. He and Seymour waved out of the window and drove
over to the gang. Conrad emerged from the vehicle on the sliding door and issued
a challenge to the gang before withdrawing into the S.P.V. He then drove up to
where the other racers were gathering and revved the engine enticingly. Watching
as a member of the gang dropped a flag, he floored the throttle and flew past
the slow starting cars. Coming to a corner in the road course, he passed two
cars round the outside, finding himself in second place. Looking at the monitor,
he saw the burst of acceleration from the lead car, as the driver opened the
valves on the last nitro oxide tank. Opening the throttle further, he started to
catch the car in front before catching the rear bumper on the S.P.V.’s front
mouldings. Pushing harder, he launched the S.P.V onto five of its wheels and
moving past the other vehicle before landing on the road in front and crossing
the crowded finish before bawling back into the city. Conrad called up the other
cars on the CB set yelling a victory cry over the radio net and adding
addressing the gang, “You all, dont go street racing unless you think you man
enough, this aint a kiddies game!” He brought his vehicle to an almost instant
halt outside a small filling station. Driving onto the forecourt the attendant
came up to the S.P.V., Conrad, and Seymour got out, thanked the attendant, and
returned to their Range Rover. The attendant kicked an oil tank and a doorway
opened; he then got into the S.P.V. and reversed it into its hideout. By this
time, the other two Spectrum cars had arrived, occupants grinning wildly as
Conrad’s Range Rover pulled up to their convoy. Patrick’s voice was heard over
the CB sets as he announced he knew a good place to go chill; he heard no
complaints and floored the throttle of his machine with the others close behind.
Thirty hours later, Seymour let out an
echoing burp whilst sat round a table on a private balcony at a San Francisco
country club overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. After enjoying a six-course
meal, Richard looked over at him and spoke with mock anger.
“Seymour, didn’t
your mother teach you any manners?”
“Why, the Arabic
culture regard it as a sign of good manners, my friend.”
“Always got a good
comeback, haven’t you Seymour?”
A piercing ringing came through the room, and Adam walked over to the phone, picking it up. He 'ummed' and 'ahhhed' several times, before hanging up and walking over to the table.
“That was the
Colonel. He needs us back on Cloudbase within twenty-four hours. Something he
can’t reveal over an insecure line.”
Two hours later, a
Spectrum jet left the runway of San Francisco international heading toward the
Caribbean where Cloudbase was hovering waiting for their arrival.
To be continued in
part 3…
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