Monday, 16 June 2014

REDD: The Den (part 3)

"David!" Ruedalow announced. "What the hell have you done with my Beretta?"
"Nothing, Mister Ruedalow." David replied, hurrying in. "It's right here." He took the Beretta from the jacket of his pocket and placed it in the Professor's hands. He looked like he was concealing something from the two men, but they didn't notice.
"Ah!" Ruedalow screamed, throwing the gun to the floor. "What are you trying to do? Electrocute me?"
"I'm sorry, Mister Ruedalow. But I see nothing wrong with the gun?" David picked it up and looked at it.
"It electrocuted me!" Ruedalow replied, angrily.
"Actually, Ruedalow, old chap," Emery interrupted, "it's only electrocution if you die."
Ruedalow glared at him. "Thanks for that delightful insight, Emery." He turned back to David. "What are you trying to, electrocute me?" He quickly turned to Emery. "Don't you dare say anything!"
"There's nothing wrong with the gun, Mister Ruedalow. It's exactly how it was when you gave it to me." David explained, handing the gun to Emery. "See, Mister Emery. It's fine, I didn't even take it out of my pocket!"
Emery weighed it up in his hand. "There's nothing wrong with this gun, Ruedalow, old chap. Feels just fine to me."
Ruedalow furrowed his brow. "Strange. But anyway, we can't discover this later. We need to go through the trapdoor, because whatever this is about, I bet we can find it here."
"Ok." Emery said, pulling the lever. The chair ducked backwards, and the trapdoor opened. "Down we go."
"David, give me the Beretta." Ruedalow demanded. He accepted the gun, and, with a slight buzz, holstered it. "What have you done to my precious gun?"
Without waiting for an answer, he followed Emery into the tunnels beneath the barbers. Emery was waiting for him, 1920's adventurer style torch held out at arms length. "At least there's nothing scampering over my feet." Emery said.
Ruedalow was about to reply when a figure burst through the darkness between them and ran off down the tunnel. "Who was that?" The Professor demanded, whipping out his torch.
"No idea." Emery replied. "Shall we go and find out?"
"Yes. Presumably, there's danger up where he ran from, so we'll have go down his direction."
They followed the direction of the running man and came across no side doors or other entrances. And then they came along the end of the tunnel. It was a single brick wall, with no cracks or gaps. Just a complete brick wall. "Where did that chap go?" Doctor Emery demanded.
"I haven't a clue." Ruedalow replied heading towards the wall. Then they heard footsteps approaching them.
"Quickly, man! Do something!" Emery cried.
Ruedalow thought quick and pulled a thin metal rod from his pocket. "We should be beneath Ludgate Hill, right?"
"Of course."
Ruedalow didn't reply, simply began tracing the outline of a key onto the wall. There was a rumbling and an eye hole carved itself into the centre of the wall. A lizard eye peaked out. "Shove off, monkey descendant." Said a voice from the other side.
"Not exactly Diagon Alley." Emery muttered.
"Let us in or I'll blow your brains out." Ruedalow replied, shoving the barrel of his Beretta, his hands still spasming from the electricity surging through it, into the eye hole."
"Fair point, Master Ape." Replied the voice. "Come in. Come in."
The wall swung out of the way and they stepped into the room. Emery sighed a sigh of relief at the chandeliers illuminating the entire place, but soon lost his relief when he saw where they were. "A Goblin Den."
The room was cavernous. The floor was cobbled, with tables perched all around, each with a collection of Goblins sat around, sipping Mead or Ale. They clinked their glasses and laughed, not noticing Emery and Ruedalow having noticed. A bar was to the far right of the room, with shelves of barrels and bottles behind it, and a collection of tired, underpaid bar maidens serving. Balconies coated each wall, with a variety of rooms on each row, each with Goblins queuing to get out. But the sight that really got Emeries attention was the one to the far end of the room. Thousands of dead wolves, hung by their hind legs, with Goblins carving the fur off their corpses. As a Goblin finished shaving the cadavers, they would transform into humans and be thrown into boxes. It slowly occurred to Emery that they weren't at all wolves. They were Lycanthropes.
"What time is it?" Asked Ruedalow.
"I hardly think that's relevant!" Emery replied, not driving his eyes away from the horrific sight before him.
"Oh my God!" He heard Ruedalow exclaim.
"I know. It's terrible!"
"That's unbelievable."
"Unbelievably barbaric, yes!" Emery replied.
"Brilliant even! In a bad way, of course."
"Of course!"
"But what can we do?" There was a pause, before Ruedalow continued, "What can I do?"
Emery didn't quite hear the next bit, for the sudden whining of all the candles. Suddenly the light in the cavern increased and it became unbearably hot on Emery's back, but he didn't dare turn away from the horrific sight before him. There was a sound like an explosion and then everything returned to normal. Emery felt ever so slightly queasy. That was when he saw all the Goblins in the entire Den looking at him. Or more specifically, what was behind him. He turned around and saw Ruedalow whistling 'Mary had a little lamb' and trying to be inconspicuous. "Emery." Ruedalow said, looking slightly older, but it was probably just the light.
They ran towards the now closed doorway, Ruedalow blasting it open with a click of his fingers, and they raced through the darkened corridors. They could hear the cry of the Goblin behind them, the slimy and slippery patter of their feet on the cobbled floor.  "Where have the people who were chasing us before gone?" Emery asked.
"Don't worry. They'll be chasing us any second." Ruedalow replied.
But Ruedalow had disappeared into the shadows. Emery kept running though. This confusion wouldn't stop him. But what he saw before him next did. Ruedalow, with his torch in one hand and his Beretta in the other, stood waiting for him the tunnels. "Ruedalow?" Emery asked. "What are you doing?"
Ruedalow shook his head and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and Emery hit the floor, dead. His watch broke as he hit the ground. It read Five past Three.
In the afternoon.

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