The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:
This week:
Episode #49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

Last Week As You Recall our heroes had come out of the window of Dr. Smith's garage, to find that the world was gray, Capt. Brown was red, and The admiral was asleep.
But we start our story today, not with Dr. Smith, Capt. Brown, or even the sleeping admiral.
 No, this week we start our story with a piece of newsprint,
an unassuming piece of newsprint,
the stories ripped from the days headlines.

-=fig. 338: scrabble club scandal=-

     Quite literally ripped.

  The headline reads: Doldrums Strike City

{Subtitle: Citizens Don't Care. } This was because all the beautiful colours of the grand city of Legopolis had been sucked from their spots by the villainous Villiam Von TipRău, arch enemy of our own Dr. Smith.

  And as everyone knows, when colours leave, souls go with them.

Von TipRău was wanted by The Church, The State, and Several Counties In The North Of France,

not for his impressive mustache but for his crimes against humanity.

   Our lonely piece of newsprint circles its way across the city, fluttering like a long flat butterfly on the chilled breeze.  It flipped and fluttered, happily unaware of it's imminent doom.

  Flying over Dr. Smith's yard, it's mind turned perhaps to dreams of returning to its homeland, the grand forests where it was––FWOOOOHM!!

-=fig. 339: FWOOOOHM!!=-

The explosion incinerated the paper instantly.

"Nice Shot!" said Dr. Smith.  The Man who had thrown the lantern gave a weak smile.

  "But how did you know that the fire from the lantern would react with the mercury in the top hat?"

"If bullets don't work, fire usually does."

"Ah.  Your plume is aflame."  As The Man ran off to extinguish his shako, Dr. Smith went to inspect the carnage. "James! Come here."

  "What is it Zachary?" said Captain James Brown, mayor of Legopolis.  Dr. Smith prodded the burnt and twisted carcass of the Top Hat, it melted a tiny bit.  "James, don't let anyone touch this." He motioned to the Top Hat "I think it may be some kind of mind control device."

"What makes you think that?"

  "The label." 

 "Ah."

"Outfit your men with some kind of flamethrower, and helmets.  With straps. There's probably something you can use in the garage. Another volley should be coming any sec––" A torrent of the terrible toppers traveled the tops of the turrets, targeted at trolling our turnkeys thinkers.     

"Curses.  James,  try not to get yourself killed or worse, mono-chromised, I'm going across the street."

Across the street was Putzkammer's delicatessen, an abandoned deli a mere block from Dr. Smith's front door and the last known location of Villiam Von TipRău.

"I'm coming with you, Sir."  This was Jeeves, Dr. Smith's robotic butler.

  "You don't have to do that Jeeves." 

 "Ah. but I think that I will be a valuable asset, Sir.  Being a robot the mind control will have no effect on me."

"All right, you can come."

They snuck sneakily through what passed for a door but what was really a collection of boards leaned up against the sheet metal barricade.   Dr. Smith made it as far as the middle of the street before being apprehended by Rather Blank Faced Men, the henchmen of Von TipRău.

-=fig. 340: apprehended by monoids=-

"Good afternoon Rather Blank Faced Men!"

The R.B.F.M. all talked at once, in a monotone no less:

"We are the Monoids."

"Ah! So you can talk."

"Yes.  We have been sent to capture you."

 "And if I don't want to come?"  The sound of eight revolvers all pointed at your head being cocked at once is a worrying sound to say the least. 

   "I thought you wanted to capture me?"

"Our Master cares not if you are dead or if you are alive."

 "By Jacob!  It's a three-headed-monkey!"  Dr. Smith pointed, none of them looked.

  "It is not."

   "I Suppose you wouldn't believe I have a colleague on that roof pointing not one, not two, but three long-range rifles at you?"

    "No."

     "Would you believe… two long range rifles?"

      "No."

-=fig. 341: for preference=-

       "Drop 'em Brigadier!"

          "ARRRGH! DUCK ME HEARTIE!"

Brigadier Black was the sort of man you want at your back in a fight, facing the enemy with some sort of heavy artillery, for preference.   Eight shots rang out eight monoids fell dead, as soon as they hit the ground the eight monoids disintegrated in a cloud of tiny squares.  Not cubes, but one-sided squares.  Dr. Smith did not have time to ponder this physical improbability, because five-hundred monoids were marching in from the east.  He had to go, but he left a parting bit of advice to the guard nearest him: "Set fire to their hats, pass it along."  The monoids were marching so close that one good lantern could create a chain effect, saving bullets.   Always thinking, our Dr. Smith.  As he made a mad dash to the other side of the street, he very nearly was knocked over when he ran into Jeeves.  Jeeves, who was dressed in black and white anyway, was almost invisible in the mono-chomised world.  "Jeeves! Watch where you're standing."

"Sorry Sir.  Fascinating building, This is a delicatessen?"

-=fig. 342: Putzkammer's deli=-

Back in the young days of Legopolis, this derelict building was the assayers office,  Legopolis was originally a mining town and people would come from miles around to mine the hills of Legopolis for Upsidaisium and Luddite, the two rare minerals that made The Grand City of Legopolis what it is today.  A plateau.   The door to the Deli was locked and rusted shut due to years of disuse, but it was mysteriously lacking in glass so it didn't pose a problem.

The walls inside were covered with the lewd and profane graffiti of deli-goes through the ages, and in the middle of the floor, badly covered in loose boards, was a gaping hole.

-=fig. 342: a gaping hole=-

"Jeeves, Pull those boards away from that hole."

  "Yes Sir."  The boards, when pulled away, revealed a pitch black hole.

Dr. Smith and Jeeves stared down into the abyss.

"You first, Sir."

 "Thanks alot Jeeves."

   "You are welcome Sir."

    "That was sarcasm Jeeves."

      "Ah."

  Dr. Smith toed the edge of the hole tentatively.

"That's very deep, Sir."   Dr. Smith nodded his agreement.

Jeeves leaned in closer to get a better look,

Dr. Smith fell.

"JEEEEVES!"

-=fig. 343: whoops=-

"So sorry Sir!"

 "JEEEEVES! USE YOUR ROCKET FEET!"

  "You forgot to install them, Sir."

What willl happen Next? Will Dr. Smith perish at the hands of… In a deadly Fall? Find out in our next exciting episode:

 Episode #50: The Black Planet

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.