The Mansion stood like a giant against the dark of the night. The lone porch-light glowed eerily out, as if to great the catnappers heading for it. No one know that I was out here in the cold, trying to rid the world of evil. If I disappeared my little Donna wouldn’t now where to look. The beautiful Lady Grace would never get a chance to fall in love with me. But that was the life that I had chosen. I had chosen to be alone on my quest, and now I was here, here in this stormy night, against the two last men. I found my next target and flew closer.
Marc was creeping along the edge of the hedge. His eyes were locked firmly on the towering building ahead, and you could almost see all the second-thoughts racing across his face. It wouldn't take much to make a man whose hands are shaking like a leaf in the fall leave and never return (unless possible for a chapter in the sequel.)
So carefully, oh so carefully I crept behind him. He was shouldering a large pack filled with ropes and hook and lock picks. I pulled at the knots holding the straps together, it gave a little. I did the same to the other.
The knots started untying and faster than you could say 'a fat, juicy hamburger with mayo, ketchup, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, and twice the cheese, please' the pack fell off.
Marc started, his eyes wide and all sorts of freaked out. He grabbed at the ends of the straps and started muttering insults so bad that I really hoped that the ties wouldn’t hold together. How can you be so low down that you’d call a pour straps mother that! But those strings had had enough, they wouldn’t hold, or even try to hold.
While Marc was still trying to fix his pack, I snuck up behind him, and with a handy tree limb knocked him up-side the head. He fell like bird poop, straight down and with a little splat in the damp ground.
I tied his hands with my last strip of cape.
Then I was off my eyes zooming to the figure of my archenemy. There he was, about to steal away all those sadistic little kittens. And only I could stop him.
Marc was creeping along the edge of the hedge. His eyes were locked firmly on the towering building ahead, and you could almost see all the second-thoughts racing across his face. It wouldn't take much to make a man whose hands are shaking like a leaf in the fall leave and never return (unless possible for a chapter in the sequel.)
So carefully, oh so carefully I crept behind him. He was shouldering a large pack filled with ropes and hook and lock picks. I pulled at the knots holding the straps together, it gave a little. I did the same to the other.
The knots started untying and faster than you could say 'a fat, juicy hamburger with mayo, ketchup, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, and twice the cheese, please' the pack fell off.
Marc started, his eyes wide and all sorts of freaked out. He grabbed at the ends of the straps and started muttering insults so bad that I really hoped that the ties wouldn’t hold together. How can you be so low down that you’d call a pour straps mother that! But those strings had had enough, they wouldn’t hold, or even try to hold.
While Marc was still trying to fix his pack, I snuck up behind him, and with a handy tree limb knocked him up-side the head. He fell like bird poop, straight down and with a little splat in the damp ground.
I tied his hands with my last strip of cape.
Then I was off my eyes zooming to the figure of my archenemy. There he was, about to steal away all those sadistic little kittens. And only I could stop him.
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