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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