Chapter Tre! A "sticky" situation-- get it?... with disaster!
The steady stream of police cars, lights flashing and sirens blaring, had dispersed. kingmonkey had used his rocket cycle's smokescreen, and finally launched himself in to the air leaving $48,329.88-worth of property damage, dozens of angry policemen, and one seriously unnerved old woman behind him. The times were chaotic, and called for a chaotic and random hero-- a role which kingmonkey would gladly hold until someone more deserving came along.
In a rare moment of lucidity, he realized that the best place to start tracking down the Bacterian dictator would be the World Super Prison. Iron Cast had changed strongholds with such alarming regularity that, if he were to go immediately to Bacteria, he'd end up having to comb the entire country to find him. kingmonkey didn't have the patience for that kind of thing. kingmonkey found games of Hungry Hungry Hippo too long and convoluted for him to enjoy.
The rocket cycle set down on the rooftop landing pad of the World Super Prison, a blast of rockets and a cloud of dust heralding his arrival. kingmonkey wiped the smashed bugs off his helmet visor as the prison's warden came to greet him. The building was a massive, blocky grey structure originally built in the '50s. The warden was a massive, blocky grey woman, originally built in the '50s. Unlike the prison, the warden had had no cosmetic upgrades in the mid-'90s. Unlike the prison, no man had ever attempted to breach her impenetrable walls.
"You must be kingmonkey," the warden said, "can I please see your World Spy League ID badge?"
"Of course, Miss Wardenetta," kingmonkey said as he gave her his badge, "you can't be too careful these days."
"As we learned to our great regret," Henrietta Wardenetta replied, handing back the badge, "we thought we were impregnable. Unfortunately, human error proved to be our undoing. We've had to resort to home cooking since the French bakery fiasco. Deprived of their French pastries, Japanese chocolate, and Australian Spaghetti, our inmates are already starting to threaten to riot."
"It's only been about six hours," kingmonkey said (giving a necessary timeline to the narrative).
"We have a very poor kitchen staff. You must return Iron Cast, kingmonkey. You must restore the World Spy League's confidence in our operation so that our budget will be restored, and anti-foreign-food restrictions will be lifted."
The warden and kingmonkey strode out of the midday sun and into the bowels of the massive jail. From the bowels, they proceeded to the colon of the building-- the maximum maximum security containment cells! kingmonkey crouched and looked at the blasted ruins of the European dictator's cell. The smell of brioche-bombs still lingered in the air, an acrid stink that tickled the back of the nose. Loose bits of concrete still littered the floor. In the debris, kingmonkey could make out the footprints, the familiar footprints, of the agents who had freed Iron Cast.
"Big Wrench and Bigger Wrench," kingmonkey muttered.
kingmonkey touched his fingertip gingerly to the nearest footprint. He brought his finger to his mouth and touched it to the tip of his tongue. Raising an eyebrow, he smirked.
"I know where they're headed, warden."
"What? How could you-?"
"Simple! The footprint. Toffee," kingmonkey stated triumphantly. Seeing the warden's confusion, he added further sentence fragments. "Big Wrench. Junk food. Durfy's Toffee. It all makes sense."
"I'm sure it does to you, but I can't read your mind, monkey. Tell me what you're figuring," the warden said.
Iron Cast had an accomplice in the area, an accomplice known only to members of the World Spy League, and their evil opposites, the World Evil-Spy Evil-League (WESEL). He was an accomplice that kingmonkey had heard of, but never encountered: Durfy, the Toffee-Maker-- an insidious confectioner with a taste for junk food, and torture.
"Thanks, narrator," kingmonkey said, "yeah, that about explains it."
"I didn't... Who were you listening to?" The warden stepped back as kingmonkey stared unblinking at her.
"There's no time for discussion, now. Now is the time for senseless action."
"What are you going to do?"
kingmonkey smiled. "I'm going to go over to Durfy's Toffee, and show the Toffee-Maker the door-- the Glendoor!"
An awkward silence filled the hall for a moment. kingmonkey stared knowingly at the increasingly worried warden. She simply shook her head.
"I don't understand," the warden explained.
"What's the Glendoor?"
"Is that some kind of-?"
"Merely repeating 'The Glendoor' doesn't explain it," said the warden, growing more irate.
"It's a private joke," said kingmonkey
"Then how was I supposed to-"
The warden sighed and began to walk away.
"Forty-two," kingmonkey called after her.
"That still doesn't make any sense to me," screamed the warden.
kingmonkey, undaunted by the warden's lack of appreciation for finely-crafted puns, kicked a piece of broken concrete, thrust his head into his helmet and dashed madly out the door. The blazing sunlight suddenly blinding him, kingmonkey ran into the side of his rocket cycle, knocking it over.
Chanting a theme song aloud, he picked up his rocket cycle and programmed the directional coordinates for Durfy's Toffee. kingmonkey knew the Toffee-Maker was a clever customer, and a cleverer criminal. kingmonkey would need a super-secret disguise, which no one would ever see through. As the clouds sped by in the sky, kingmonkey wracked his tiny little brain until he finally had an idea.
After he stopped for lunch at Denny's, he got back onto his bike and continued to think about what kind of disguise to use.
Stay Tuned for Chapter 4: Candy-gram!