[Feb 12] [WitWi Carmen Sandiego/Perfect Strangers] The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Ch 2

[rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com]

Title: The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Chapter 2: Nighttime Flyers
Day/Theme: Feb 12, I (don’t) hate you
Series: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego/Perfect Strangers
Characters: The Dying Informant and company, Balki and Larry, Sarah Nade
Rating: G (for now)

Cross posted to other places


Author’s notes: I reference two Perfect Strangers eps here, “The Pen Pal,” and “Family Feud.” Also, the raven that the Informant mentions is quite real.

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Jennifer and Mary Anne opted not to go to Mypos with them, still tired from working the flight to Newark; they agreed to wait in New York for the cousins’ return, taking the time for some sightseeing. And that was how it came to pass that the cousins found themselves traveling quickly to Mypos in an ACME jet with the five detectives.

The Rookie was psyched to go on an international mission for the first time, and was awake for most of the late-night flight, though the others slept through most of it. It was morning in Mypos when they landed.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do…” said the Messenger, with a yawn. “Some of us need to take a look around the countryside and marketplace for clues, in case V.I.L.E. has been spotted there… And some of us also need to head to the crime scene.”

“I can take whoever wants to go to the palace…” offered Balki. “We’ll stop off to have breakfast with Mama first, and be on our way…”

The Informant and the Techie both volunteered.

“And I can go and watch the apprehension of the suspect with them,” Larry said, deciding to skip his aunt’s cooking. He had had more experience with Myposian food with Balki’s cooking misadventures than he would have cared for.

“You may be in for a disappointment…” the Inspector warned him. “The way V.I.L.E. works, they usually don’t stay in one place for very long. They go global—fast. We’re hoping to pick up the trail.”

“Not to mention finding out which crook took the lamb…” the Rookie asked.

“That won’t be hard…” said the Messenger, with a wave of his hand. “Just look at the footprints. If there’re two sets, it’s Double Trouble. If there’s a distinctive odor, it’s Top Grunge. If they’re deep, it’s Eartha Brute. It they’ve got bolts in the heels, it’s RoboCrook. If they’re paw prints, it’s Wonder Rat and those fake boots. And if there’re no tracks at all, it’s Kneemoi!”

“Wwwwow…” said Balki. “You know some strange people…”

“You don’t know the half of it…” the Informant said. “But, whoever it is, I’m sure you’ll be glad to get your hands on them…”

“Well…” said the sheepherder, thinking for a moment. “Not really; more than anything, I would like to try to make them into a useful member of society. Whoever it is can move fast and carry things; maybe they can go around and deliver things…”

“Hey, that’s my job…!” the Messenger exclaimed, but he paused, musing over Balki’s words. “So… let me get this straight… Even though this V.I.L.E. agent could potentially ruin your homeland’s finances, you don’t hate them?”

“What good comes out of that?” Balki wondered aloud. “You know, on Mypos, we have a saying… ‘A raven can be cruel, attacking young livestock, but train one, and you will have an ally.’”

“Oh, sure…” the Messenger replied, with a smirk. “And then you can send them to your ex-significant other’s house and have them perch on their door and caw out ‘Nevermore.’”

“Actually, it’s possible…” said the Informant. “I heard of a raven in England who could talk—normally, as well as like a pirate.”

Larry just blinked, wondering if the detective was being serious.

Balki chuckled politely.

“I was actually referring to the thief; right now, whoever did it is just like a wild raven—doing what it thinks it has to do to survive, even if it means misery for others. But perhaps we can tame and train this raven.”

“We’ve tried rehabilitating V.I.L.E. agents…” the Techie said, with a shake of his head. “It sounds great in theory, but it’s not very practical.”

“Well, maybe I can try talking to them when you catch them…” the sheepherder offered.

“Uh, Balki…” Larry said, quietly. “You don’t want to get involved with criminals--”

“But, Cousin, I told you; on Mypos, we have that saying--”

“Well, here, we have a saying,” Larry countered, the tension audible in his voice. “‘There is no honor among thieves.’ You can help the detectives find clues, but I don’t want you talking about Myposian philosophy—or anything else—with those criminals. You remember what happened the last time you tried that, don’t you?”

“Well of course I do; don’t be ridiculous—he became a photographer,” Balki reminded him

“We got lucky that time; I’m not going to take any chances now!” Larry insisted.

The Inspector cleared his throat ever so quietly, so as to remind the cousins that they weren’t alone. Larry went a bit red and turned away, quiet as they landed.

The cousins and the detectives parted ways as they had agreed, Larry taking pictures of the Messenger, the Inspector, and the Rookie as they talked to the townspeople. They had to depend on translators, as not one of them knew a word of Myposian.

“I almost wish Infy was with our group…” the Messenger mused, as his pocket translator was only able to give him a limited list of Myposian words and phrases. “He just might be able to have better luck.”

“Well, we’re nearing the village square,” said the Rookie, glancing at the GPS. “There has to be someone here who saw something; this is the closest village to the palace—the crook would’ve come right through here to get a bite to eat.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they ended up not eating anything…” Larry sighed, glancing at the carts full of batbatmichi, bibbibabkas, and other Myposian dishes.

“Oh, I don’t know…” the Messenger said, looking at the bibbibabkas with interest, and paying for one. “Seems great to me. So…” he said, his mouth full of the sweet dish. “I say we split up further and ask around the square.”

The Inspector and the Rookie both agreed, and the three detectives split up amidst Larry’s protests of wanting to observe all of them at work. At first he tried following the Messenger, but then wondering if the others would get information.

With a sigh and a groan, he massaged the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he first thought…

“Mi scusi…” a female voice purred to him.

Larry looked up, noticing a woman with short, brown hair and dark sunglasses. But he frowned as he realized that it wasn’t Myposian she was speaking.

“Can I help you…?” he asked.

“Si, you can,” she said. “This poor Contessa will be most grateful if you do.”

Her accent was Italian, Larry realized, and he had to wonder why an Italian Contessa would be in Mypos in the first place. But a Contessa…! This could be his chance; if he impressed her enough, maybe he could get an interview with her, in addition to the story he was already working on!

“Well,” he said, flashing her a winning smile. “I’d be only too happy to help you. I’m Larry Appleton, of the Chicago Chronicle; now what I can help you with?”

“Oh, misericordia, I am lost!” the Contessa said. “All of these villages look the same. I am trying to find my way to the palace; I have to meet a friend who has undoubtedly been waiting hours and hours for me! Poor Sarah must be as lost and frightened as I am; won’t you help me, Signor?”

“Well, this just happens to be your lucky day,” said Larry, smiling at her again. “My cousin is Myposian, so I just happen to know a bit about the geography here…”

As they were talking, the Messenger had been asking around (buying more bibbibabkas in the process) when his glance fell upon Larry and the woman.

“Hey!” he sputtered, his mouth still full.

The Inspector and the Rookie both turned, now, eyes narrowing as they saw the V.I.L.E. agent talking to Larry.

“Contessa…” the Inspector fumed, reaching into his pockets for a set of handcuffs as he headed towards them.

But the woman saw him approach.

“Oh, Madre Mia…” she muttered, seizing Larry’s arm. “This way! Andiamo!”

“Wait!” Larry yelped, as she pulled him further into the crowd. “That’s not the right way…!”

The Messenger and the Rookie tried to follow the Inspector, who was following her, but the crafty thief had all but disappeared—along with the journalist.

“Why did she take Mr. Appleton with her?” the Rookie wondered aloud.

“I don’t know…” said the Messenger, with a frown. “Either she saw him talking with us and wants to know what’s up, or she doesn’t know about that and just wants him as a getaway shield…”

“Or maybe she thinks he can help her look for someone else…” the Inspector said, his arms folded. “From what I saw, she didn’t have anything with her—not even the missing lamb. I think she’s supposed to be the backup for whoever took the lamb, but she wasn’t able to find them.”

“Well, we’ve got to find Contessa before anything happens to that reporter…” said the Messenger, beginning to regret letting him come along. “Come on!”

************************************

At the Bartokmous household, the Informant and the Techie had hovered outside as Balki reunited with his mother. They were quickly invited in, but prompted stares from Mrs. Bartokomous. She turned to Balki, saying something quietly in Myposian, causing the Informant to flinch.

“What did she say…?” the Techie asked, knowing that the boy was an expert with languages, even with ones as obscure as Myposian.

“She said that she’s never seen two scrawnier men since the famine forty years ago…” he said.

Now Balki flinched, realizing that the Informnt knew some Myposian. He turned to tell his mother this, but she had already ushered the detectives to a couple of chairs, and proceeded to bring some of the food that had just finished cooking. Clearly, she intended to see to it that the “skinny detectives” would be well-fed while they stayed in Mypos.

“Uh, Mrs. Bartokomous…” said the Informant, hurriedly. He had heard vague details of the unique Myposian cuisine, and knew that there probably wouldn’t be a single thing that the Techie would be able to stomach. “We’ll take it to go, if you don’t mind; we’re planning to head to the palace and see if there were any clues left behind by the thief…”

“Oh, po po…” the elderly woman said. She then began to talk about how such a thing had never happened on Mypos before, and how cruelly the government of Skeptos would treat them if they were annexed. “We are simple, happy people,” she said, in Myposian. “But the people of Skeptos are cunning and greedy. Our family has constantly been threatened by the Botulitises of Skeptos for five hundred years—and that is just one example.”

“That is why they have come,” Balki assured her. “They’re going to help us get the lamb back—and then Skeptos wont annex us.”

The woman nodded, giving Balki her blessings to take them to the palace in the hopes that they could help, but not before sending them with a basket full of food.

“Well, she’s certainly thoughtful,” said the Techie. “And I have to say, this stuff smells delicious…”

“It’s moolinki loaf,” said Balki. “One of Mama’s best dishes.”

“Sounds good, too…” the Techie said.

“Techie…” the Informant said, softly. “It is good, but I’m not so sure you’d be a fan of what went into it… namely the ox tonsils.”

The Techie’s face momentarily drained of all color, and, wordlessly, he handed the basket to the Informant. Balki was oblivious to this, leading the detectives further up the hillside.

“There…!” he said, as the palace gates came into view.

A little bit of talk with the guards gained them entry. They were soon led to the crime scene; the fallen pedestal and shattered urn were still left as they had been found, but one of the Myposian investigators was examining another clue that the thief had left behind—an unmarked CD.

After the American detectives introduced themselves to the Myposian investigators, they handed over the CD for the brothers to examine.

“Nothing indicating what it is…” the Techie said, his technological skills firing up. “It could be something left accidentally… But it could also be a calling card—or worse, a virus.” He pulled out his laptop. “But even if it is, my laptop’s firewall should contain it.” He slid the CD into the drive. “But I have a feeling that this case is going to burst wide open…”

Everyone in the room flinched as loud, heavy metal music blared from the laptop.

“Or maybe our eardrums…!” the Informant kidded, with a wan smile.

The Techie hurriedly ejected the CD, restoring quiet to the palace.

“What was that…!?” Balki asked. “It was like nothing I’ve ever heard before… and never want to hear again!”

“That, my friend, is the proof that the person who was here was none other than Sarah Nade,” said the Techie, placing the CD back in the case. “For there’s only one V.I.L.E. agent who listens to stuff like that…”

“Perfect…” said the Informant. “Now we know who we’re looking for…” He sent a quick message to the Messenger, telling them what they had found out.

“So you’ll be able to get the lamb back?” asked Balki.

“I don’t see why not,” said the Techie. “When we get a strong lead on V.I.L.E. this early in the case, it means we’re off to a good start…”

The Informant checked his communicator as the Messenger replied, and the boy’s eyes widened.

“Contessa…?” he blurted out. “She’s here, too!? And…” He trailed off, not sure if he wanted to say this in front of Balki.

“What…?” the Techie asked, looking at the message. “Oh, no…”

“What is it…?” Balki asked, realizing that something was horribly wrong.

The Informant and the Techie exchanged glances.

“There’s another V.I.L.E. agent on the island,” said the Informant. “The Messenger and the others saw her… And she’s taken your cousin somewhere.”

The sheepherder could only stare at the news.