FanFic: A Little Knight Music

[ReneeLouvier]

Ooh...great job! Really loving how it's turning out.

 

[Muppet Newsgirl]

Act Four, Scene Two:

Around midnight, the call came in. Scooter flew out of bed and made a run for the phone.

"Hello?"

It was Kermit. "Scooter, there's been a fire at the theater!"

"What?"

"Yes, it's an actual fire this time, not a smoke bomb. Get down here."

"Right, boss." Scooter threw the phone back onto the hook and ran to grab his jacket. "Skeeter, let's go, there's been a fire!"

Skeeter ran from her room, pulling on her jacket. The twins ran downstairs two at a time and out the door.

"First a smoke bomb, now this. Somebody's got it in for us," Skeeter said ruefully as she jumped onto her bike.

"No kidding," Scooter agreed as he wheeled his bike (it had just come back from the shop) out of the garage and climbed on.

As they sped off down Hunt Street, Nora appeared from Prell Lane on her bike. She looked frightened. She hadn't had time to put her hair back up into its braids; it streamed out behind her like a banner.

For a fleeting moment, Scooter considered suggesting that she leave her hair like that…then he remembered that someone had just tried to turn the Muppet Theater into an oversized hibachi grill.

As they pedaled, a soft red glow started to appear in the distance. The group pedaled faster toward it, praying that it wouldn't be too catastrophic. At the same time, though, they feared the worst.

And then they smelled it. Underneath the smell of smoke…there was the faint odor of dead fish.

------

"Bring in more hoses!" One of the firefighters shouted over a megaphone. "Everyone else, keep back!"

Orange-red flames spewed out of the canteen entrance to the theater as Scooter, Skeeter and Nora came up.

Kermit stood by in his bathrobe, staring in disbelief and despair at the flames. Miss Piggy clutched his arm and sniffled into her handkerchief.

"Horrible…" Kermit moaned. "Horrible."

Fozzie and Gonzo stood by, jaws dangling open. From his perch atop Sweetums' shoulders, Robin shuddered with fear.

Nora looked over at Scooter. He neither moved nor spoke…but the terrified look in his eyes made Nora think that he was actually going to break down and cry right there.

On her left, Skeeter nervously shifted from one foot to the other, tapping absent-mindedly at her bike's bell.

The firefighters turned on the hoses, sending a gigantic jet of water into the canteen. A hiss and a plume of smoke emerged from the door.

The Electric Mayhem bus roared up. Floyd sleepily looked out one of the windows. "Hey, did someone bring in the Mothers of Invention or something?"

"Like, wow, that's really not cool, man," Janice shook her head.

"Fire! Fire! Burn-up! Burn-up!" Animal yelled.

"Animal, chill out, man, chill out!" Floyd yanked at Animal's chain.

Thankfully, it was only the canteen that had been torched. Apparently, one of the neighbors called the police before the arsonist could do any more damage. The stage and seating areas, and the sets, costumes and props, were all undamaged.

"Now what?" Gonzo asked.

"Well, the theater's okay…but the Swedish Chef and Gladys are going to have to find a new place to cook and serve for the time being," Kermit said.

One of the police officers went through the wreckage with the fire marshal, trying to find any clues about the blaze.

"Did they see anyone leaving the scene?" Kermit asked one of the officers.

"We're looking into that. The owner of the music store down the street said he saw a tall yellow-scaled Koozebanian in a black trench coat running away from the theater," a female officer said.

"Yellow-scaled Koozebanian…" Kermit racked his brains. "Hmm, doesn't sound like anyone we know."

The officer going through the canteen wreckage leaned over and picked up a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, and the case they had come in.

Nora felt her blood run cold.

"Those are Mrs. Farley's glasses," she said, trembling.

Scooter stared at her. "Are you sure?"

Nora nodded, swallowing.

After asking Nora to make a quick statement, the officer put the glasses and case into a plastic bag and handed it off to another officer…who then quietly handed it off to someone in a trench coat and fedora.

The someone went over to where four other like-dressed someones stood. They nodded in unison and disappeared into the night.

------

There was a knock at the door. Mrs. Farley went to answer, pulling on her dressing gown.

"All right, all right, I'm coming. What time is it?" She opened the door and stopped. There were five men in trench coats and fedoras standing on her step. They all looked like stereotypical private eyes, with their hats pulled down over their eyes and their coat collars turned up to hide their faces.

"Louise Margaret Knotworth Farley?" one of the men asked formally.

"Y-yes? What can I do for you?"

"You need to come with us, please."

------

 

[ReneeLouvier]

Ooh...Mrs. Farley. Awesome.

 

[Muppet Newsgirl]

This scene doesn't really have Scooter or the others in it, but it's very important. Bear with me.

Act Four, Scene Three:

"Louise, what's going on?" Mr. Farley called sleepily in the background.

"I…it's nothing, Herbert, I need to go someplace important. I'll be back soon," Mrs. Farley called uneasily as she grabbed her purse.

-----

They escorted her down to a waiting black van. One of the five, whom the others called Burbank, got into the driver's seat while the others climbed into the back with her.

Twenty minutes later, the van pulled into the alley, not outside the police station, as Mrs. Farley expected, but outside Jim's Coffee Shop on Hunt Street, directly across from the Muppet Theater.

Smoke still rose from the smoldering canteen, and Scooter, Skeeter, Nora, Kermit and the others still lingered outside.

The men escorted Mrs. Farley inside through a side door and silently passed through the darkened seating area. Mrs. Farley timidly glanced around at the walls. They were covered with photos and posters of the Muppets.

They went behind the bar. The leader moved aside a large framed poster from The Muppet Show, revealing a door with an intercom in it.

The leader pressed a button on the intercom.

"Please state your code name and password," an electronic voice said.

"Code name, Leland. Password, Rezal-evad-gib."

The door clicked open, and they all went down a flight of stairs into the darkened basement. A bank of computer terminals, assorted radio equipment and a bright red rowing shell fitted out for two rowers and a coxswain took up part of the room.

They took Mrs. Farley into a dimly lit side room with a table and chairs in it.

"Sit," Leland said, pointing to a chair on one side of the table.

Mrs. Farley did so, by now completely confused and fearful.

Leland sat down opposite her, while the others stood by the door. He took out a plastic evidence bag and placed it on the table. The bag contained a pair of glasses and a case.

"Do you recognize these, Mrs. Farley?"

"Yes…they're my glasses. I couldn't find them earlier today."

"The police found them at the scene of the latest attack. Your assistant, Eleanor Jane Brandon, positively identified them as being yours."

"I don't understand, Mr. Leland," she said timidly.

"Mrs. Farley, please try to cooperate," Leland said gently but firmly. "There's a lot at stake, and we have every reason to believe that criminal activity was involved."

"But I honestly don't know what happened, apart from what I've heard on the news."

"Four theaters burnt. One company falls ill with food poisoning. Another theater gets flooded and a seventh is vandalized. This is definitely a case of serial sabotage," said one of the men in the background. Mrs. Farley could just see a pair of glasses glinting on his face as he spoke.

Another one of the men came forward. He sat down, leaned back and parked his feet in their white-with-blue-stripes Adidas sneakers on the table. "Tell me, Mrs. Farley, does the smell of fish mean anything to you?"

"Closter, get your feet off the table," Leland chided.

Closter snorted. "You talk like my mother," he said before relocating his feet. "Fish, Mrs. Farley. Does it mean anything to you?"

"Fish? What on earth do you mean?" Mrs. Farley frowned. "No one in my family eats fish. We can't stand the smell of it." She wrinkled her nose.

"Just that. At each of the scenes, there was a distinctly fishy smell in the air," Leland said.

Mrs. Farley shook her head of blond curls and looked around anxiously.

"We call him the Killer Fish," explained one of the other men, who went under the name of Hereford. "As in, 'Attack of the Killer Fish,' ever go see it?" He took off his horn-rimmed glasses and polished them.

"Though he could also be a she," volunteered another, who was called Tulsa. "Either way, the Fish operates in ways we don't understand," he said in a sage manner.

"Earth to Tulsa: we knew that, otherwise we'd all be off having a nightcap instead of questioning the librarian here," said Burbank. Mrs. Farley mentally bristled.

"Come on, Burbs, it's not like we have bigger fish to fry," Closter remarked as he tilted his head back a bit, showing part of a clean-shaven, relatively young face.

There were snickers all around at the "bigger fish to fry" joke.

Leland leaned closer, revealing the outline of a bushy beard in the dim light. "Mrs. Farley, please. Your assistant and her friend could be in danger."

"I know…I told Nora that it would be better if she didn't get involved with those people," Mrs. Farley sniffled as she brought out a handkerchief. "But no…she's got a strong will and she loves the theater, so I had to let her go…and I think she's in love with that boy."

Leland nodded. Closter had been drumming his fingers on the chair arm; he suddenly stopped.

"I'm frightened, Mr. Leland," Mrs. Farley whispered.

Leland nodded. An alarm went off elsewhere. Mrs. Farley trembled and started to slump forward.

"Hereford, Burbank, Closter, Tulsa, you boys go back to the control room, I'll help her out," Leland said.

"No, Leland, you've been putting in the overtime. Go upstairs and get yourself a cup of coffee," Hereford said as he moved forward. "I'll take her home."

-------

Leland watched as Hereford escorted Mrs. Farley up the stairs and out the door, then picked up the phone and dialed a number at a paper just outside of New York.

"Leland?" The reporter from the prologue picked up almost immediately.

"Yes. It's happened."

"I picked it up over my police scanner. No one was hurt, right?"

"Everyone's fine; the damage wasn't too extensive."

The reporter sighed. "They were lucky. But the Fish is going to try again, you know that."

"All too well. But you know those other theaters don't exactly fit the smash-and-burn pattern," Leland sighed. "We did find a pair of glasses."

"Glasses? As in, reading glasses?"

"Yeah. They belong to the owner of the Coming Unbound bookshop down on Henson."

"What kind of condition were they in?"

"Pretty good, actually." There was no answer on the other end. "Hello?"

"Do you think the Killer Fish is changing tactics to throw the police off?" There was a momentary tremor in the reporter's voice.

"Clearly. This guy is nasty, Ms…"

"Don't say my name! I can't reveal my name until the end!" The reporter said quickly.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Is Closter still worried? About the godchildren, I mean?"

"He's trying not to show it. He's being the usual little caper-cutting loudmouth in public…but he's definitely worried. We're all worried now."

"When is that show?"

"First Saturday in November."

"I'll try to come out there before then," the reporter said firmly. "I just got my rail pass updated." She paused. "What do you think, Leland? Do you think…do you think he's turning into a bona fide psychopath?"

"I do. I think it's only a matter of time before he actually decides to try and kill someone as well."

-------

Burbank tapped his fingers against a police report on the counter. "I hate to judge before all the facts are in, but I still have my suspicions about that Farley woman. She lived in Boston up until three years ago, and she left just after the Fish hit those three theaters in the area."

"I agree," Tulsa said solemnly. "Either she's directly involved or she knows something. But we don't know for certain yet. Besides, she doesn't look much like a Koozebanian to me."

The door opened upstairs, and Closter's blue and white Adidas appeared on the basement stairs.

"Well, Closter?" Burbank asked as Closter descended the stairs and came over.

Closter held a sheaf of computer printouts in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. "Got confirmation from one of our experts. Old Fish-face fits the 'whiny little toad' profile to a T." Closter proudly showed them the printouts.

"Hey, don't use toad that way. It's an insult to our amphibian friends." Tulsa chided.

"Okay, how about…whiny little worm?"

"No, they'd object over on Sesame Street," Burbank mused.

Closter muttered something under his breath. "All right, how's this? Whiny little brat."

"That'll do. Brats come in all species…and all ages," Tulsa smiled, giving Closter a knowing look.

"Are you implying something?" Closter raised one eyebrow as he took a sip of juice.

"Yes, he's implying that we need to come up with some way to reel the Fish in," Burbank said.

"One step ahead of you, my man. The boss just told me that he's got a great scheme planned."

"Tell us."

"Okay, but I'll have to keep it down, or the readers will hear us and that'll spoil the ending."

The three men began whispering. The only words that anyone eavesdropping could have picked up were "theater," "attack," "green coat" and "bluebell."

-----

Scooter and co. will be back in the next scene.

 

[ReneeLouvier]

OOOHHHHH!!! I love it!! I know who the secret men are, but I won't say at all....ooohhh!! It's just so awesome!

 

[Muppet Newsgirl]

Heh, heh...I dropped in some fairly obvious hints.

 

[Muppet Newsgirl]

Here it is, last part of act four. After this, things are going to start getting a tad creepy...as if they weren't already.

Act Four, Scene Four:

At the Grosse/Hunt house, Sadie stood in the upstairs hallway in her pajamas and robe, pacing back and forth.

"Sadie, it's almost one o'clock. You'd better get some sleep," Nancy said gently.

Sadie didn't look up.

"Sadie, you'll work yourself into a tailspin if you keep fretting like this. The kids will be home soon, you know that," Nancy said, more urgently.

"I can't help it, Nancy," Sadie said.

Nancy looked sadly at her sister-in-law.

"With this maniac running around…I'm scared that I'm going to lose my children just like I lost my husband," Sadie said as she looked down at the floor.

"Sadie…Adam wouldn't want you to fret like this, would he?" J.P. asked as he came out of his and Nancy's room.

Sadie stared out the window. "It's at times like this when I really wish Adam was still alive. He…he was the best crime reporter the Observer had to offer. He could have smoked the Fish out in two blinks of an eye."

She took a deep breath and looked at the wedding photo on the side table. It showed her, eighteen years younger and a bit thinner, with much longer red hair. She looked a lot like Skeeter, right down to the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and the mischievous grin.

Standing by her side in the photo was the man she had married. Scooter had clearly inherited his father's appearance and eager-to-please personality.

Downstairs, the front door creaked open. Scooter and Skeeter crept in, silent, brooding and carrying the faint scent of smoke with them.

Sadie spotted them and ran down the stairs. "Kids, are you all right?"

"Fine, just fine," Skeeter said, coughing. "I smell like a smoked sausage."

"What happened?" J.P. asked. "How much of an insurance premium do I owe on that heap this time?"

"Relax, Uncle, it was just the canteen that got torched. They've got a police patrol keeping an eye on the place now," Scooter said as he took off his jacket.

"No one was hurt?"

"No…but I think the police want to arrest Nora's boss. They found her glasses at the scene."

"That's terrible," Sadie said.

Nancy came forward in her usual all-business manner. "All right, all right, enough horror stories for one night. Back to bed, all of you. Scooter, Skeeter, you've got school tomorrow. J.P., Sadie, you have to work. I have to keep going on that one illustration for next week's issue. Back to bed, now, hop to it."

The lights clicked off in the upstairs hallway as the adults disappeared back into their rooms.

Skeeter went straight back to bed, although she insisted on taking her softball bat to bed with her.

Scooter collapsed in one of the chairs at the dining room table and rested his head on his arms.

Who is this guy, he asked himself. Why does he hate us so much?

Scooter was desperate for answers. And he wasn't going to wait for the Fish to strike again in order to get them.

The Muppet Theater meant the world to him. He didn't want to lose it.

Scooter went into the kitchen, made himself a mug of hot cocoa and carried it up to his room, turning off the light behind him as he went.

He needed to talk to someone. He needed some advice. Advice from someone who knew how to deal with annoying, destructive vandal types.

Scooter knew, as he walked into his room, that Richard and the others usually wouldn't be available at that time of the night. But there was something he could do tonight.

Feeling vaguely like the wireless operator on the Titanic, Scooter sat down at his desk, booted up his computer and took a long swig of cocoa. Then he started to type out an e-mail to a friend of his in England.


To: The Wild Impresario (crazygenius89@faff.co.uk)
From: Scooter Hunt-Grosse (goferboy@mup-thtr.com)
Subject: URGENT: We've got trouble

Wild:

We've got a real problem over here. Some psycho called the Killer Fish has been going around vandalizing all the theaters in town, and the Muppet Theater got torched only a few hours ago (nothing more than the canteen was damaged, by the way). We're starting to get really scared now.

You've had lots of experience dealing with Farkas Faffner, so can you give us any advice on what to do now, and what kind of creep we're dealing with? We're doing 'A Little Knight Music' in just over a week and we don't want to cancel.

Tell Lady Fughetta, Riff, Mimi and the others I said hello.

Scooter



Scooter pressed the send button, logged off and turned off the computer. He finished his cocoa and took a rueful glance out the window, as if expecting someone to be standing on the sidewalk down below, before climbing back into bed and pulling the covers up.

He didn't expect to be able to immediately fall asleep. But sleep claimed him within ten seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

------

End of Act Four

 

[ReneeLouvier]

Ooh, I like, I like! Very awesome having Wild be Scooter's friend. It really makes a lot of sense.

Please don't torch me, but are you reffereing to Richard's brother perhaps? Adam, as in Adam Hunt? Awesome if you are.

 

[Muppet Newsgirl]

Yeah, I was referring to Adam Hunt there.

Wild's response to Scooter's e-mail will come in act five, scene one.

 

[ReneeLouvier]

*notices your here then you aren't suddenly* Your internet just blips in and out dosn't it?

That's awesome though! Can't wait to read Act Five, Scene One. I really love how it's put out as a play outline. It's really nice.