The Adventures of Phineas Frakture (18 page)

Episode
12

Phineas looked up at the man who was king. Ashira’s father had to be close to six and a half feet tall, and his bearing was that of a ruler of men. His stare alone was enough to make one cringe.

“
Why
are you holding my daughter?” the king boomed. His eyes looked at his nephew and then back to Phineas. “And what did you do to Milos?”

“Father,” Ashira put herself between Phineas and the king, “this is Phineas, a man from the surface. He is also my
Comptala
and the one who engineered your rescue. That man is the one who killed Milos.” Ashira pointed towards the unconscious agent.

The king’s expression softened…slightly. “That is different, then. My ministers informed me that there were surface dwellers here.” The missing ministers, who had obviously played a part in his release, were huddled behind the king. The king held out his hand to Phineas, who took it and flinched at the grip. “I believe gratitude is in order.”

Phineas looked up at the towering man. “You’re welcome,” he managed to say through the pain.

Several Atlantean guards came down the corridor, having liberated their weapons from the kraken men, and picked up the agent, who had started to come around again. Phineas then saw his friends approach.

“Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you guys went off to,” said Abigail to the ministers. “Glory hounds.”

“Abigail…William, say hello to the king,” said Phineas, rubbing his hand as his grip was released.

As William approached, the king snarled and balled his fists.

“Father, it is all right. He is a friend,” said Ashira.

The king relaxed a bit, but still eyed William suspiciously. “Come, let us go to the throne room and you can tell me what is transpiring. Bring him,” he added to the guards holding the agent. As they were leaving, the remaining guards picked up Milos’ body and carried him off for a proper burial.

Meanwhile, in the throne room, another contingent of guards was already piling the dead kraken men on top of the seal in front of the throne. The king sat down, but not before examining the chunk taken out of the top of the throne.

“I did that,” said Phineas. “Sorry. It’s a beautiful throne. Now, I wouldn’t mind bringing you up to speed with what’s going on…but, with all due respect, the city still needs to be cleared of the kraken men.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” replied the king. “They will all be dead within the week anyway. We will dispose of them as we go.”

“What do you mean ‘dead’, Father?” asked Ashira.

“We have been noticing that their life spans are extremely short. They have been gradually dying on their own since they took over. If you had waited another week, we would have retrieved you from your exile.”

“That’s impossible,” exclaimed the now fully conscious I.S.S. Agent. “They were created by the finest genetic scientists America has.”

“Apparently, they aren’t as good as you thought,” pronounced Phineas, “and I’m sure that the citizens of Atlantis will be eager for payback now that the scales have tipped in their favor. Speaking of payback, what should we do with you?”

“He will be punished for his crimes according to our laws,” responded the king.

“No argument from me,” said Phineas. “If we took him back with us, he would probably be rewarded. Just out of curiosity…what will his punishment be?”

The king raised his hand and, a few seconds later, the seal in front of the throne swirled open, dropping the bodies down a shaft. Everyone stepped back except for the guards in charge of the agent. They shoved him forward and, as he peered over the side, several tentacles snaked up and grabbed him. They pulled him down screaming to his death, and then the seal closed.

Phineas arched an eyebrow at the swift form of justice. “So, is anyone else hungry or just me?”

“I could go for something,” said William.

“I’m famished,” added Abigail.

Ashira smiled. “I think that we have earned a banquet…unless those things have eaten everything.”

After a feast fit for a conquering hero, Ashira approached Phineas. “Your craft is ready to take you to the surface. Everything that you brought with you is aboard and waiting for you.”

Phineas looked from Ashira to Abigail. “I can’t go,” Phineas said to Abigail.

“What? Why not?” she replied, knowing what was coming. Everyone within earshot suddenly became interested in the conversation, including the king.

“Abigail…you know how I feel about you…at least I hope you do. William…you have been a trusted friend for as long as I can remember. But, as much as I care for you two, I am a married man now, and my place is here…with my wife.”

The king sat up and was about to say something, but Ashira held up a finger to him, much to his displeasure.

“Just how
do
you feel?” asked Abigail. “Let me hear it from you just once.”

Phineas shifted uneasily. “I…I…”

“Well?”

Phineas’ shoulders sagged. “I can’t say it…not now that I’m married. It wouldn’t be fair to Ashira to start off that way. I’m sorry.”

Abigail glared at him for a moment, and then a smirk formed across her lips. Barely able to keep from laughing, she couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. “Well, I guess that I really should tell you that you’re not married then.”

Phineas’ jaw dropped and he looked from Ashira to Abigail and back again.

Ashira smiled. “We are not married.
Comptala
means ‘champion’. You were just accepting a position in my court.”

William began laughing so hard at the look on Phineas’ face that he fell over in his chair. The king, finally understanding the ruse against Phineas, began laughing as well, which caused the rest of the room to join in, much to Phineas’ dismay.

“Now, maybe you will start paying attention to what’s going on outside your world,” Abigail said through chuckles.

Phineas quickly stood up from the table and wiped the crumbs from his shirt. “All right, time to go…my, look at the time. Well, it was nice meeting you all. Have a wonderful life under the sea.”

“Boy, there’s commitment for you,” said Abigail.

“Do you no longer wish your reward?” asked the king, still smiling.

Phineas stopped in his tracks and turned around.

The Atlantean craft surfaced in the Thames and glided gently to a dock. The hatch opened and Phineas stepped out, followed by William and Abigail.

“I could really use a shower,” Phineas commented.

“Yes, you could,” Abigail sniffed. “So could you,” she said, turning to William.

“You don’t smell like a spring flower yourself, missy,” commented William. “You realize that you could have asked for a fortune, Phineas. Did you see all of that gold down there? We could have been rich!”

“I’m already rich,” said Phineas. “How do you think I afford all those crullers that you eat?”

“Well, I’m not, and I’m sure that Abigail isn’t.”

“Actually, I am,” mentioned Abigail. “I do own my own planes, run my own charters, and own part of an airfield.”

“Well, I would like to be,” stated William.

“You’d be bored. Besides, working for me gives you purpose in life,” Phineas joked.

“Like that is what I want to do all my life. Besides, what are you going to do with those ray guns? We could have just kept the ones we had and gotten gold instead.” William threw their bags onto the dock and shut the hatch.

“I’ll take them apart, see what makes them tick, sell copies, make a fortune, and retire,” said Phineas.

The craft started to submerge and William lunged for the hatch, but missed. “Well, you might want to rethink that plan.”

“Why’s that?”

“Your retirement plans are still on board.”

Phineas looked at the trail of bubbles leading down the river and sighed. “They might find their way back to me. I think Ashira liked me. Who knows, I might just retire down there.”

“Oh, please. She didn’t want anything to do with you,” chided Abigail.

“I’m not so sure about that. I think that I would have made a pretty good prince of Atlantis.”

“You know that she was a fish, don’t you?” asked William. “Tail, fins, gills…that’s how they could swim without suits down there. They were mermaids.”

“There’s no such thing,” said Phineas. “They were just acclimated to the environment. I never saw any tails.”

“I wonder if their children would hatch from eggs…and have fins,” teased Abigail.

“Phin fins?” joked William.

“Oh, shut up,” said Phineas moodily. He looked around the area, but the fog was so thick that he couldn’t see anything. “Now, how do we get to our hotel? I can barely see past my arm.”

“I don’t know,” answered Abigail. “I’ve never been to London before. Where is it supposed to be?”

Phineas pulled a piece of paper from his suit. “Well, it sounds like a nice place. It’s on the east end of the city…some place called Whitechapel.”

Phineas Frakture
and the
Terror of Doctor Molondi

Fig. 4. — Mrs. Popkiss

Episode
1

London’s Whitechapel District

Nowhere in the city will you find a more wretched collection of human despair. This is the final resting place of the downtrodden, lost souls, opium addicts, prostitutes…and the playground for one of the city’s most infamous serial killers.

Constable Lewis Q. Lamplighter, one of the less fortunate lawmen for the Queen, happened to draw his duty in this district on this ill-fated night. He stood on the corner with his back to the wall of an abandoned apothecary, making sure that none of the many desperate denizens of the neighborhood could sneak up on him and slice his throat or stick a shiv into his kidney. He stomped his feet to keep warm, for the night was unusually chill; the fog, thicker than usual, seemed to make that chill even more biting.

Shapes moved in the fog, barely discernible, and they were gone as quickly as they appeared. At this late hour, the eyes could play tricks on a person. The gaslight cast shadows that, when mingled with the fog, could look like a person…or worse. There were enough fiends running around London. The notorious serial killer and most wanted of criminals was right here in the district that Lamplighter was in that very moment.

What a feather in his cap that would be, if he were to bring that blighter in on his own. It would mean an instant promotion to Detective Sergeant, maybe even Inspector. Lamplighter dared to dream, but first, he would have to catch the bugger.

An odd noise caught Lamplighter’s attention. It wasn’t there a moment ago, or was it? It was hard to tell. The fog was so thick that it muffled sound two feet away. It was sort of a ‘chirp…chirp…chirp’ sound, steady and continuous. Throwing caution to the wind, and not to mention that he was bored as hell out here in the night, Lamplighter swung his billy-club in a circle as he walked towards the sound.

A scream pierced the fog, and the constable stopped and looked around. A second scream followed by laughter came closer as two late night revelers staggered past, sauced to the gills on gin. The lady, if she could be called that, hung onto a burley boiler-man’s arm. Lamplighter paid them no heed. He knew what they were up to, but he didn’t wish to waste his time bringing in another prostitute who would be back on the streets tomorrow. He resumed his quest and followed the chirping through the fog.

A squat shape, about half the size of a water barrel, appeared before him in the middle of the street. The chirping definitely came from this container, though he saw no reason for it to be making such a sound. The thing was metal with a flat top and bottom, while the body bulged outward like a kettle pot. Several valves were positioned around the sides, along with many wires that went here and there. A small light on the top flashed in time to the chirping. Lamplighter, having no mechanical background whatsoever, couldn’t fathom what this thing was. Maybe the boys back at the Yard could figure it out…that is, if he wanted to take the time to drag it back there.

There was another scream. This time, he knew the difference between partiers and someone who was in trouble. Lamplighter abandoned the device and raced around the corner into an alley. It was a rookie mistake, but the call of duty overrode any thought of personal safety. He proceeded through the fog and could make out a dark shape a few feet away.

A man stood up, wearing a black cloak and top hat. The fog parted for a few seconds and Lamplighter could see a woman lying on the ground with her stomach butchered open. The glint of a knife caught the constable’s attention, and Lamplighter raised his club.

“Hold on there! What do you think you’re doing?” Lamplighter said. Realization dawned on him. “Wait a minute…you’re the Ripper! I’ve got you!”

Jack the Ripper, Butcher of Whitechapel, slowly started forward. Blood dripped from the knife that he held. Lamplighter backed away, keeping his distance. He reached for his whistle and blew it several times, praying that there was another constable within earshot. Behind him, the kettle chirped louder and faster, but he paid it no mind. Jack came into the light, exposing his face. The constable gasped.

“You!” Lamplighter exclaimed. “Never in a million years would I have suspected you, and neither would the Yard. I’m going to be famous, I am. The man who captured Jack the Ripper, and he is none other than—”

The chirping stopped.

In the blink of an eye, Constable Lamplighter, the infamous Jack the Ripper, and the entire District of Whitechapel…were wiped from the face of the city.

Two Days Later

“Whitechapel? Why does that sound familiar?” Abigail Bentley—pilot, mechanic, girlfriend—wiped a layer of soot off of her arms. “Sheesh, this stuff just collects on you, doesn’t it? How do these people stand this filth?”

“Maybe this is why they want to take over the world…to get away from the disaster that they created for themselves.” Phineas Frakture put on his goggles, but soon, they too were covered in a black layer.

“Are you trying to get us all killed?” asked William Patterson, the third member of their party. “Remember, we’re here as guests. No sense in insulting an entire nation while we’re here, at least not until we are departing. And if you bothered to read the papers, Whitechapel is where that Rapper fellow has been killing women.”

“I think he’s called the Ripper,” corrected Abigail.

“Ripper, Rapper, who cares?” said Phineas. “The brochure I found said that this hotel was the premiere spot to stay at while in London. Top class.”

“So, you booked us a hotel that has a murderer stalking around it? Swell,” said Abigail.

“He only kills prostitutes,” stated William. “At least that’s what the papers say.”

“See, nothing to worry about,” said Phineas, “unless you plan to take up that profession while you are here.”

Abigail growled something under her breath and left it at that.

“Well, it would be nice if we could find the place in all this fog and soot,” said William. “Maybe our rooms have a panoramic view of the factories. What time is it here, anyway?”

“It’s nine-fifteen in the morning,” declared a voice in the fog.

“All right, this is really creepy. Where are you?” asked Abigail.

“To your left, mum. Right under the lamp post. You’ll get used to navigatin’ the fog soon enough. Thick, this’un is, but it’ll burn off by noon.”

“That’s all and well,” said Phineas, “but how do we get through it now? We need to get to Whitechapel as soon as possible.”

“Whitechapel?” a second voice laughed. “Shouldn’t be goin’ there. Rough neighborhood, that is.”

“We have reservations,” stated Phineas.

“I would too, if I was you,” said the first, “but if you really want to go there, there’s a hansom just down the street. He’ll get ya where ya want ta go. Just tell ‘em Smitty sent ya and he’ll take good care of ya.”

“Thank you, good sir,” said William. “See, they’re not all monsters in this country.”

“Not all,” said Phineas.

After they were out of earshot, Smitty turned to his companion. “Bloody American tourists. Always lookin’ for excitement in other’s misery, they are. Maybe they’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘em down on the east end. It’ll be three less Yanks we have to take care of once the war starts.”

“Good riddance,” proclaimed his companion.