Austin Powers: Insanity's the Limit
Chapter Three
Warehouse...
Austin groaned as he slowly came to consciousness. At first, all he was aware of was a dull pain emanating from somewhere in the viscinity of his left shoulder blade. Then, he felt a slight pressure upon that very same spot, almost at the same instant he realized he was staring at two very shapely thighs. He grinned. maybe he should get himself shot more often.
Hearing someone nearby talking, but not understanding the words, he lifted his head. Two blurred women spoke to him in a soft voice. A single soft voice. Blinking rapidly, he brought his eyes to focus--good enough without his glasses anyway--and the two women became one. She was a drop-dead gorgeous brunette. He tried to pull himself off the ground, but a hand on his back restrained him.
He turned his attention to another groovy brunette who was speaking in a huskier tone. He still couldn't make out what was being said, but that didn't matter. With a soft sigh, he lay his head back down on the hard concrete floor. Then, he abruptly jumped to his feet as memories came flooding back.
"Crikey, I've been shot!" he exclaimed looking at the two women and the man whom he hadn't noticed before. They all three gave him a look that said clearly: "No shit sherlock." He also noticed that hadn't understood what he had just said, even though he knew he had said it. Odd...
The woman who had been kneeling next to him placed her hand on his shoulder and said something. He shook his head and her words slowly began making sense.
".....blood. It's probably making you dizzy right now. Or at least it should be." She gave him a once over.
"Well baby," he said, "I've got to find Dr....er Scott Evil, so if you'll excuse me..." he took a step forward and nearly fell over. "Right then. I suppose I do need to rest a bit. A good idea.I am a bit...woozy now that you mention it, yes."
The woman helped him to sit back on the floor, her face a mixture of disgust and amusement. "Fine, but my name's Lestrade, okay?"
"Sure baby, whatever you say." He grinned up at her still standing form. She in turn leveled a glare at him that should have killed him where he sat.
"Mister Holmes, do we really have to stay here?" The other girl said, her voice only slightly plaintive. Not enough to really call it whining. "My brother may not be dead now, but who's to say he won't be?"
The man--Mister Holmes, Austin presumed--simply shrugged. "I very highly doubt that. However you are right in that we shouldn't wait around here any longer. Whomever wanted me and Watson out of the way will most certainly be here to check and make sure their attempt was successful. I think your apartment should be safe enough Lestrade, and it is closest."
The woman who last spoke gave Lestrade a glare almost as lethal as the one the latter had graced him with. Austin grinned. "Cat fight anyone? Rrrow! Hehe."
"Come on swinger boy," Lestrade told him, holding out her hand, her tone laced with the same disgust-amusement.
"It's Austin Powers, baby," he rejoined, grabbing her hand and letting her pull him to his feet.
"Sure swinger boy, whatever you say."
Austin stopped and looked at her, but she continued walking on. He looked back at Holmes and...his girl for lack of a better term. The former simply raised an eyebrow. The latter refused to look at him. So he shrugged and followed Lestrade.
An empty station in the Old London Underground...
Watson's sensors slowly came back online. As his sub-processors began an automatic damages check, he wondered if perhaps they weren't supposed to have. The voice he heard next disabused him of that notion and he let out a voluntary groan.
"Oh, good. You're back with us I see, Watson," the slick voice of Moriarty reached his 'ears'. "I am afraid I have some...bad news." The criminal genius placed his hand over his heart in mock sympathy. "Sherlock Holmes is dead."
"What? But..." Watson stammered, unable to come up with anything. "but...Wait. Holmes is too smart to allow himself to be killed by the likes of you, at least not without taking you down with him!"
Moriarty lost the expression of concern and grinned wickedly. "Oh really? Take a look at this then." He held out a remote control and pressed a button, which activated a screen of some sort. On the screen was the conspicuous purple and gold of Holmes' hovercoach. And...
"No! Impossible! Holmes couldn't have been inside that, it was on the ground!"
Moriarty, instead of gleefully shouting his victory over his arch-nemesis, nodded agreement. "As I thought. I simply wanted to see if someone else noticed besides myself. Because a certain somebody" he glowered over at the cowering French geneticist, Fenwick in the corner, "did not."
Watson struggled to get up, but a special binding device for robots held him in place. "However," Moriarty continued on, "I had a feeling that particular plan would not succeed. Therefore, I came up with a back-up. You. Now Holmes will have to allow me free rein, and that goes for keeping his yardie on a leash, or risk having you....destroyed."
Hollywood Sign Lair...
Dougie stood and faced his father and Basil with a slightly apologetic face. "Well, I've fixed the time machine. However, I haven't been able to synchronise the time-portals, so if we try to use it, we'll land in some unknown point in the future. Well, somewhere close to where the portal is...but, it could be in a lake, in a vat of acid..."
"Point taken," Basil said, "Now..."
"In a compost heap, in a garbage chute, in a firey furnace..."
"We got it," Nigel put in, "And I think..."
"In a...ow!!" Dougie stopped, rubbing his head where his father had just slapped him.
Lestrade's apartment...
Lestrade sighed as she watched Holmes and Eva Norton leave. Both were wearing one of her only two dresses, and if she hadn't been left with the weirdo from the sixties, she just might have laughed at the sight. As it was, she was very close to finishing a botched job of murder. Honestly, if the guy hadn't been shot, she'd have insisted he go with the two of them.
"You've got a swingin' pad, baby," Austin called from in the living room.
Lestrade ground her teeth together and counted to ten as she picked up her medikit. "I don't like being called 'baby', swinger boy," she announced as she walked into the living room, "It's degrading." She looked over to where he was leaning against the bookshelf, watching her. He is kinda cute... Shaking her head she pointed at the couch. "Take off your shirt."
An unwarranted blush rose in her cheeks as she realized the implications of her poor choice of wording.
He looked at her in surprise, and then grinned. "Getting randy are we baby?"
"No!" she answered a little too quickly, "Look, I'm just going to treat your wound and get that bullet out. Now sit on the couch with your back towards me, and take off your shirt."
"Sure baby," he said easily, and complied with her demand. "You know that guy Holmes? He must think he's pretty funny to be wearing that get-up and his name being what it is. What, does he think he's Sherlock Holmes or something?"
"He is Sherlock Holmes," she told him testily, "He was preserved in honey, and last year I had him brought back to life so that he could stop Moriarty, who is a clone of the original, although we didn't know that at the time." Really, this Powers guy was simply too annoying. Her anger had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that his bare back was to her. Nothing at all.
He twisted his head around slightly, just as she was about to pass the scanner over his wound. "Really? Now that's strange baby. I was cryogenically frozen in 1967 and unfrozen in 1997 to stop my arch-nemesis. And, he has a clone too."
She shoved his head back around with an admonishing, "Be still!" and continued her ministrations. Soon, she had the bullet out and the wound closed up. "Yeah, real weird," she muttered in answer to his last statement. "And so is this bullet..." She frowned as she brought it close to her face. It wasn't, as far as she could tell, a bullet so much as a cartridge. A cartridge that looked as though it was supposed to have ruptured upon impact with bone. It was obviously a dud, as it only had a bit of fluid leaking out of it.
Finding an evidence bag in one of her desk drawers--one never knew when one would need one--she put it inside and then walked over to her computer. Austin followed closely behind, so closely that when she stopped abruptly he ran into her. She fell into the computer table, and he fell on top of her. Feeling another blush rise in her face, she visciously pushed backwards. He stumbled back and fell onto the couch.
"Sorry luvvie," he said, not sounding sorry at all.
"Whatever, just don't let it happen again, okay?" She turned the terminal on and then placed the evidence bag in a slot and sent it to the Yard to be analysed. When she turned around he was right in front of her, and her eyes went involuntarily to his hairy chest. "Put your shirt back on!"
He gave her a puppy dog look. "But they're all bloody and icky, baby," he said, "Besides I think you like me like this." He grinned and wrinkled his nose. She rolled her eyes.
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