ĐĎॹá>ţ˙ ž ţ˙˙˙œ˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙ěĽÁ7 đżç{bjbjUU `ć7|7|çw˙˙˙˙˙˙lŇŇŇŇŇŇŇ4’(’(’(’( ž(ŒŸ+ö6)6)6)6)6)6)6)6)B+D+D+D+D+D+D+•, ľ.”D+Ň6)6)6)6)6)D+J)ŇŇ6)6)Y+J)J)J)6) Ň6)Ň6)B+J)6)B+J)ěJ)6+ŇŇ6+6)*) ŕsĽźŔŒ'’(@) 6+6+ o+0Ÿ+6+I/J)I/6+J)ŇŇŇŇŮ MISSING BORED 02/08/94. 11:50 Jonathan was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Bored with his stupid job, bored with his life and bored staring at the stupid pink dress of the woman sat in front of him. Bored. He looked lazily all around the office for something to do. The desks stared back at him accusingly. The other office workers that he could see all sat hunched over their papers, earnestly talking into telephones or reading files with an intensity he could not understand. The work here was boring, what were they reading that was so interesting? He stared up at the flickering neon light in the corner. He looked behind him at the filing cabinets with their annoying squeaky drawers and then he looked at the floor and counted the number of brown carpet tiles that he could see. Then he counted them again and made a mental note of how many of them had dark ringed coffee stains on them. He looked and he looked and he looked, anything to avoid doing his boring, stupid job. But no matter what he tried to distract himself with, his eyes were always dragged back to one place. His desk. He had heaps of paperwork filling up his "IN" trays, but it was all boring. He didn't want to do any of it. He felt listless, he felt in need of something more interesting to do. He wanted something more mind taxing. What? There was nothing. He had rung his girlfriend, spoken to some of his colleagues to while away a few minutes, looked mournfully out of the window at the traffic below and gotten the drinks for everyone, twice, but he was still sat at his desk, a prisoner of rationality and the everyday order of things in modern life at ten to eleven and his head was buzzing. He wanted so desperately to get away from this place and he longed for something interesting to happen to him. Anything that was different from the norm'. The telephone rang. He picked it up. And he cried out in sheer terror. * * * 09/08/94. 12:14 An extremely harassed Detective Mckay licked the end of his pencil, sucked his scratched tongue and continued to take down the seemingly endless stream of words that the lady in the pink dress stood in front of him poured out. "...and, well, you don't know what's in these youngsters minds any more do you? One minute they say they can't get a job, next thing you know they say that they're bored and they don't want to do this any more, well what do they expect in today's world? Thrills and spills every five minutes, well I'm sorry, but it's not like that any more is it because sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do and if you want the money you stick at it don't you...?" "Yes, Miss Hancock could I...?" "...I mean, I was only saying to him the other day that he wouldn't be doing this for all that long. I said to him that if he stuck at it, within a few months we'd have him on something more interesting, but you've got to work your way up the ladder haven't you...?" "Hmmm, I was wondering..." "...well it's simply not good enough is it? I'll have to get someone else now even if he does turn up again because I can't have unreliable staff who go wandering off whenever they feel like it just because what I give them to do isn't interesting enough. What do you think?" There was a long pause and then, with a start, Detective McKay realised that the flow of words had stopped. “Pardon? Oh, sorry, erm, yes. Whatever you say. Erm, I was wondering. If, as you say, Jonathan has run off because he was, erm, bored, do you have any idea where he might have gone?" "Well, no. Haven't you asked his parents? That would have been my first move, I mean, he's been gone a whole week now and..." "Thank you!! That'll be all Miss Hancock!!" said the Detective rather hurriedly and he retreated backwards out of the office, past the wheezing photocopier and the grinding fax, towards the stairs, waving his notepad at the pink dress lady in farewell. "Oh, are you off then? Well, goodbye..." "Bye!" mouthed McKay and before he could be verbally assaulted any more, he turned around and dashed through the swing door and to the stairwell as quickly as he could. He ran down the steps as fast as he ever had run in the last twenty years. Once outside in the "fresh" air, the Detective breathed a sigh of relief as he leant against the smooth marble wall of the office block and lit a cigarette. He looked up as his partner came over from their parked car and he grimaced at her in response to her smirk. "I warned you. She's got one hell of a mouth on her. Why do you think I offered to go for you? I knew you'd have difficulty, but oh no, you go charging up there shouting that you can handle older women better than me..." "Alright, that's enough. Point taken. I'll let you go next time. Just don't forget that you are the rookie round here." McKay smiled at his attractive young partner as he took a deep drag from his cigarette. "Well, learn anything new this time?" "No. Same story that she gave you before. One minute he's sat at his desk, next thing she knows he's vanished and she never even saw him get up and go. She's convinced that he's just wandered off somewhere but she..." "...doesn't know where" she finished for him as he puffed on his cigarette, dropped it to the floor and ground it into the pavement with his shoe. They spent a few minutes taking in the foul air that clashed with the beautiful blue sky that hung up above them before they looked at each other and sighed in concert. "Oh well, we'd better crack on!" said the woman matter-of-factly as she straightened McKay's tie for him and they trudged toward the blue unmarked Vauxhall Astra that waited patiently for them on the roadside. They climbed in and drove off through the myriad of huge faceless buildings that were jumbled together like so many odd-sized Lego bricks. * * * 02/08/94. 11:59 Jonathan had passed out. He had woken almost immediately, but he had simply not been able to take in what had happened to him and he had dropped into a dead faint. One minute he had been sat at his desk minding his own business, next thing he knew he was here. In this, this place. Where was he? Why was he here? Was he dreaming? Would he be awoken any minute and rebuked by Miss Hancock for falling asleep on the job again? He hoped so, because wherever he was, it wasn't very pleasant. It was pitch black, but he knew that he was sat in some sort of circular concrete pit about three metres across. The pit rose above him by about another three metres he guessed and there was a draft coming from the hole above his head. It smelt terribly of urine and faeces and he had a horrible suspicion that the soggy substances that he was stood on were the source of those smells. He wouldn't have minded, but he had fallen over on his arrival and he was covered in the stuff. Strange crackling and crunching noises accompanied every movement of his feet and, on closer investigation he found himself to be stood on piles of bones, picked clean... What the hell was going on? * * * ALONE 05/08/94. 18:15 The factory was quiet now. The day's business was over and the machines had fallen silent, their operators now winging their way to the pub to celebrate another pay day. The silence was eerie. No radio blaring, no motors whirring and no people shouting. Dust settled. Lights flickered on. In the corner wall of the dingy workshop, a door opened and out tottered Joe. The cleaner. He walked unsteadily over to his small storage cupboard which he laughingly referred to as his office and removed his overalls and his stiff, wide brush. He clambered slowly into the crisp white outfit and adjusted his flat cap accordingly to present a more "professional" appearance. He was at work now. The only work an old man could get these days in his twilight years. He set to work clearing up the metal shards and coils that lay scattered around the lathes and the milling machines. The telephone started to ring. The factory floor bell pierced the silence with an explosion of sound. Joe looked up at the oil-stained extension on the wall. Should he answer it? Joe was indecisive. It WAS after closing time. If he didn't answer it, he might get into trouble. Maybe it was the guv'nor for him? Maybe it was an important customer from overseas with a new order? It might even be his wife, trying to get hold of him for something important. Slowly, he leant the brush against the wall and he wandered as fast as he could toward the ringing 'phone, half-hoping that it would ring off and he wouldn't get lumbered with some important message for the guv'nor that he would have to give him once he had found him. He didn't like the guv' very much. He picked up the 'phone. And he died of a heart attack almost immediately. * * * 09/08/94. 13:28 "Here Mike, what's goin' on over there?" "Search me mate". The two machinists leant against their still spinning lathes and looked up to the office at the end of the factory floor to see two people, one man and one woman talking to Mr. Millar the Manager. "They look like Coppers to me." said Mike as he poked his finger roughly about inside his nose. His companion considered this before replying. "Nah, one of em's a girl!" Mike looked at him and smiled. "Maybe it's about old Joe. He's been gone for nearly four days now ain't he?" "Could be. I wonder where he went. Not the sort to wander off I'd have thought. Good old brick was Joe." "Ah, you know what these old geezers are like." The two men went back to work as Mr. Millar took the two people into his office. * * * "Yes, I'm just as worried about Joe as you are, but I don't see how I can help. As I've explained, I wasn't here that evening and I didn't see Joe that day at all." Mr. Millar looked up at the two Police Detectives as he relaxed in his chair and lit himself a cigar. Detective McKay he knew, he was an old soldier of the local Constabulary and a well known and respected figure in these parts, but this new partner of his, this Miss Munro was something of an unknown quantity. She was highly attractive with her long brunette curls dangling loosely around her shoulders and she had a fetching smile, but she seemed a bit too enthusiastic, without the more hard-bitten, cynical edge of her partner. She removed a notebook from the deep pockets of her light trench coat and began to recite. "But we know he was here on the Friday night. His cleaning equipment cupboard was open and his overalls were missing. He had clearly been doing some cleaning at least that day as you yourself said that you found a pile of metal shards in the bin for recycling, yet the bin had been emptied that day before work was finished." She looked down at Millar, snapping the book shut. "She's a bit keen isn't she?" said Millar after a brief pause. He sat there, chewing thoughtfully on his cigar as he looked the young lady in her grey jacket and skirt up and down. McKay wearily rubbed his eyes. "Yes, she's a...ahem....stickler for details" he said, turning to smile ruefully at Miss Munro as she poked him in the stomach with her notebook. "Well, I don't think I can give you any more than I already have I'm afraid Clive" replied Millar and he stood and shook McKay's hand, "Nice to see you again though". "Well, thanks for your help, we'll be in touch naturally if we find out where he's got to. Goodbye." Millar made to go round the desk, "No no, we'll see ourselves out" said McKay, holding up his hand. Millar watched as the two Detectives left and chewed some more on his cigar before shaking his head sadly. * * * "Well, what do you think?" "He fancied you." "I know that, but what do you think?" McKay paused to consider for a moment. "I think he liked your legs. He couldn't take his eyes off of them...alright alright, put the notepad away!!" He paused. "I think we have yet another missing person who isn't going to turn up all that quickly and I furthermore think that it's time we went to the pub so get the keys out and bring the car round." Ruth Munro flashed her eyelids, smiled at McKay and she walked off to the car, her high heels clicking on the rough tarmac. "Steady now" said McKay to himself as he found his eyes being drawn down to the brief glimpse of those stockings that could be seen below the hem of his new partners raincoat. McKay shook his head, he really would have to educate this new recruit in the ways a Detective should dress practically and properly. But first to the pub... * * * 05/08/94. 22:58 The old man hadn't survived very long. Jonathan had been in the "reception area" when he had arrived and the poor bloke had died straight away of a massive coronary. Shock. Mortal terror. Something similar to what Jonathan himself had gone through except that the old man's heart just hadn't been up to it. They had made Jonathan bury his body. They had made him dig another grave at the same time whilst he was out there in that cold, barren wilderness. It didn't take a genius to work out that Jonathan had probably just dug his own hole in the ground. His own grave to be. Next to a hundred thousand others stretching out across that dark blasted landscape for as far as the eye could see. A hundred thousand victims like him and the old man. Whatever it was they had in store for him, it would not be pleasant. * * * ISOLATION 06/08/94. 23:02 It was late and it was raining. The bus splashed through the streets clumsily as it's weary driver stared almost unseeing into the night. The huge windscreen wipers flicked back and forth across the glass and he sighed to himself as he looked into the mirror and saw the kissing couple still at it on the back seat. Like there was no tomorrow. He might as well have been isolated from everyone else on the planet for all the attention these passengers showed him. Typical. He should be in bed right now, not driving up and down the streets at eleven 'o' clock at night with a drunkard and two people courting along with him for this ride to, to nowhere. He should be with his wife right now, watching the late night movie and having a cuddle. As it was, he was stuck here with doing the late shift and he still had another hour and a half to go. Ho-hum. He pulled up at the traffic lights and sprayed water over a tramp who was laid out asleep on the pavement bench. The tramp woke up with a start and stared at him menacingly. He stood up and began walking toward the bus and the driver nervously looked at the lights, willing them to change to green. "Come on, come on, there's NOTHING THERE!!" he said under his breath as the tramp got to the door and began looking for the emergency open button in order to get in. Hmmm, this sort of attention he could do without. The driver revved the diesel engine impatiently and looked in his mirror. The kissing couple was still there. Like nothing else mattered. His two-way radio "pipped" at him. He picked up the mouthpiece and pressed the "receive" button. And he screamed in horror. * * * 09/08/94. 15:48 "Let me get this straight, he just...disappeared? Into thin air?" Detective McKay was kneeling on the cracked pavement staring intently into the eyes of the tramp who spoke back in a hoarse alcoholic whisper. Sat on the bench, he was foaming at the mouth as he replied and his ragged clothes seriously stank of meths'. "He was sat there, in the driver's seat..." "Obviously, since he was the driver, come on now..." McKay stole a look at Ruth stood next to him as she jotted down notes. Oh those legs... "And there was this kind of glow. A blue light that shone so bright, I had to shut me' eyes didn't I?" The tramp rasped back at him and shot spittle out all over McKay's raincoat. "Oh, I've had enough of this..." McKay made to stand up. "No, let him finish." It was Miss Munro. She smiled at the tramp in an effort to encourage him to continue with his story. "And I looked back and he was gone. The bus was just sat there with its engine chugging away, but there weren't no driver." The tramp looked up at McKay who grinned back at him. "Yes, Now tell us about the little green men and the saucer they flew off in eh...?" "I AIN'T NO LIAR MISTER!!" cried the vagrant, standing up unsteadily and jabbing a finger towards the Policeman. "Of course not. Thank you very much for your help." Ruth fumbled around in her handbag as McKay strode off toward the car, his head buried into the collar of his coat. "Here, take this" she said, handing the tramp a five pound note. "Cor, thanks lady. You're a treasure." "I know, but don't tell everyone eh?" She smiled again at the stinking man in his filthy rags before she went to join her partner. "Well? What did you give him?" "Oh, only a couple of pounds." Ruth offered McKay an Extra Strong Mint, but he refused. He was sulking. "Bloody time wasters. We've just lost the best part of an afternoons work on him you realise that?" "Oh, stop exaggerating. He rang up in response to the television piece and we had to respond. Now why would he have gone to all of that trouble umm? He certainly seemed to think it was true anyway so I don't think there was any malicious intent. And what else have we got anyway? A courting couple so interested in themselves that the bomb could have dropped and they wouldn't have noticed and a man so drunken that it was over half an hour before he realised that the bus had stopped moving. One moment the driver is there, the next moment he isn't. For all the other leads we've got right now, the tramp may have been telling the truth. If you want my opinion though, the driver got pissed off and went for a walk. That's all. Where he went is anyone's guess." "I hate you" said McKay. "What?" asked a startled Ruth. "You're just too Goddam logical!!" said Mckay, turning to face her with a beaming smile on his face. "You, are going to be a damn fine Detective." He plodded back to the car with Ruth following him, not sure if she could or should take the whole of his statement as a compliment or not. "Where are we going?" she asked his retreating back. "Back to the Station. We'll spend the rest of our day completing our reports because I've had enough of looking for missing people for one day. Must be the bloody silly season." * * * 07/08/94. 16:00 Jonathan sat in the dingy cell, crying his eyes out. He was alone in the dark, cold, concrete room and he was scared out of his wits. He had been ever since he had ended up in this living hell. Two days since he had been left in here. Or was it more? He couldn't tell any more. The passage of time was masked from him by the fact that the tiny, damp cell didn't have any lights or windows. The only light he ever got to see these last couple of days came from the hatch on the metal door where his food was thrown at him occasionally by whoever it was held him here. Whoever or whatever. He hadn't seen their faces properly yet, but they looked almost inhuman under those floor-length cloaks. And their rasping "voices"... He felt wretched. How had he gotten here? He kept going over it again and again, searching for clues as to the reasons for this nightmare. Oh yes, he had been sat at his desk and he had answered the 'phone. That had been it. Sat at his desk one second, and the next he was lying facedown in a pile of bones. The "reception" for this whole dark, cold pit of misery. He shivered with the cold and he pulled the rough woollen sheets up over his naked body. His clothes had been taken from him the other day. Why, he knew not. He looked out at the darkness that closed in on him and began to laugh to himself hysterically. Even in a place like this, strange thoughts came to him. Amusing thoughts. Answering the telephone and finding yourself in a medieval style dungeon was obviously an occupational hazard his boss had forgotten to tell him about. He never had liked the 'phone anyway. Maybe he would wake up from this nightmare soon. Maybe. * * * TERROR 09/08/94. 17:35 The CID office was quiet at this time of the evening. Only the distant muffled roar of the air-conditioning could be heard along with the traffic outside. Just a few die-hard Detectives still sat at their desks and two of them were engaged in a heated conversation about some football team. Sat at her desk, Ruth looked up from behind a huge pile of blue card files to see McKay returning from the DCI's office. "Now what happens?" she asked as he sat down opposite her. His face did not reveal much. "Apparently we're not to take any further action for now. Unless something else comes up in the meantime, we review the situation in a month." "What? You're telling me that we just ignore the fact that three people who were to all intents and purposes leading quite ordinary lives have gone missing in the past week? Three people who have family and friends that care about them? We just accept the fact that we can't find them and leave it at that?" Her eyes were ablaze as she stared at McKay accusingly. He sighed and looked back at her. "I'm afraid so. Look, I don't make the rules, that's the way it is. We can't waste any more time on cases that will probably solve themselves in the long run. These people will turn up, I guarantee it. Besides, there are absolutely no leads on any of these people and we have no way of even starting to track them down. Until we do have some solid information, we can't do a damn thing and that's that." Ruth looked almost as if she would burst into tears. "I know it's difficult love, your first assignment as a Detective and all that, but we can't do a bloody thing. The Police force these days has limited resources and limited funds. The trails have gone dead. You must see that what I'm saying is the truth?" She nodded as McKay dropped his voice to a more conciliatory tone. "Truth is, I'm not too happy about this either. I tried to explain to the DCI that we just needed a bit more time on these cases, but he wouldn't have it. He even kept the files in case we decided to do some investigating on our own anyway. He's a bit of a tight bastard as far as the budget goes." Ruth nodded sadly at him. "Oh I suppose he's right, it just seems a shame that's all. I have this feeling that in a month we'll be in exactly the same situation we're in now and then we'll have to review it in three months and before you know it, these people are forgotten about by everyone except their relatives because our files get just left and left until they are moved out to the storage depot. I guess I'm finally coming to terms with the reality of this job. I thought it would be different, that's all. I'm OK now." She smiled at McKay as he looked at her in concern. "Come on, we're wasting our time here. Why don't I take you to a nice little Bistro I know. Y' see, a good Police Detective needs to get to know these places intimately because they can be hives of information! And besides, I wouldn't want you to miss out on some of the best chocolate fudge cake around." McKay held his hand out for Ruth and as she looked up at him, she saw the twinkle in his eyes. They left the office leaving the two Detectives in the corner to continue their "discussion" about Football. * * * 08/08/94. 12:24 The trick was to keep your balance at all times. Jonathan had yet to take part in the barbaric ceremony that took place beneath him, but he had observed the others as they had fought and died and he had worked out the basic tactics of the "sport". The one most important rule of all was to keep your balance at all times. The arena was approximately twenty metres across and square in shape. The roughly carved walls dropped three metres from where Jonathan's feet were, to the floor that was covered in the bloody memories of conflict dating back a countless number of years. Jonathan's companion was next to fight and he angrily paced up and down in fear and trepidation as he waited his turn. That morning, they had been introduced. Jonathan had been rudely awakened by one of their captors, fed with some sort of gruel and been given his dirty and torn clothes back. He had been herded out into the long corridor and there he had met Alan. A bus driver apparently, but a bus driver who had had the shit beaten out of him for attempting to resist. Surprisingly, the two of them had been allowed to talk by those that held them and Jonathan exploited this to the full as it was the first liberty he had been given since his capture all that time ago. How long was it again...? He couldn't remember. The two men had discussed their predicament in detail and whilst neither of them pretended to understand what the hell was going on, they both knew that they should try and stick together as much as possible. Strength in numbers. Even if there was just the two of them. Then they had been shown the arena. They had been brought here to fight. For the amusement of the things that held them. Jonathan watched in horror as the two alien occupants of the arena tried everything in their power to slaughter each other. The six-foot tall bipedal lizard thing lunged forward with his spear, but the slimy jellyfish type creature jumped into the air and the lizard's weapon clattered against the rock wall. He hissed in anger and his spines raised up on his back as he whirled around, discarding his torn red robe to see his blue glowing opponent come toward him with a speed that belied its size. The jellyfish thing leapt up and onto the lizard’s back and it was nearly all over. The thing's long snake-like tendrils wrapped around his enemy's body, pumping out raw energy from the very heart of its slippery form. The lizard's spines drew globulent slimy blood from the jellyfish, but it was too late. There was the sound of an enormous electrical discharge and the lizard's eyes began to bulge out as smoke rose from its head. The jellyfish thing threw on more power from its tendrils and with a sickening pop, the lizard's skull completely exploded, scattering green slime all over the walls of the arena. Its body fell to the floor in a heap. There was a round of applause from the mysterious hooded monsters that ringed the arena. A sling dropped from the dark, cavernous roof and the jellyfish thing was hoisted up out of the arena into the relative safety of the observation "gallery". It quivered in triumph before it was herded away to its cell. The thing was as much a prisoner here as the two humans. Jonathan looked up to see Alan's face. He was terrified. It was his turn now. Jonathan hoped he remembered. The trick was to keep your balance at all times. Lose your balance and you lose your life. * * * 09/08/94. 18:46 As it turned out, it wasn't so much a Bistro as a fully-fledged restaurant. Ruth and McKay sat in the corner, discussing such diverse topics as the weather, the state of the armed forces and Sherbet Dips. Ruth laughed at yet another lewd joke as she ate the fudge cake. She had to admit that her partner was quite correct. It really was very nice indeed. "Good stuff eh? Told you so. I know the Manager here, he owes me a few favours after I helped his son out once and he gives me a special rate whenever I come here." "Oh, so I'm only worth the cheap stuff eh?" "Erm, well, I didn't mean it like that..." "Don't worry, I know what you mean." They sat and ate their sweet as jealous eyes watched them from afar. * * * In the far corner of the restaurant by the cash desk sat a Waiter. He looked out at the people all enjoying their fancy meals and sighed. It made him sick. He was sick of this job and sick of pandering to people with more money than sense. The stuff served here was muck. Expensive muck. And he was sick of the whole set-up. The telephone started to ring. A tiny warble so as not to interrupt the meals of those who dined here. "Shit. Where the hell is Maria?" said the Waiter to himself as the 'phone rang and rang and rang. He picked it up. * * * "What the fuck...?" "What, what is it? asked Ruth. McKay had stood up and he was staring in disbelief at the far corner. She spun her head to look and saw... A BLUE LIGHT. Intensely glowing like nothing she had ever seen before. It was bizarre. "Jesus Christ!" yelled McKay and he jumped over the chair, knocking it to the ground and ran at full pelt towards the blue phenomena. The Waiter could only just be seen within the hazy shimmering intensity as McKay got to it. The Waiter was clutching the telephone and he was crying out silently in agony as McKay stared in horror. "No, not another one. Not taking this one this time..." he said and pushed his hand into the blob of light and grabbed the Waiters arm, trying to pull him out of the shimmering field. With a flash of blue tinted fire, the Waiter and Detective McKay vanished completely. Ruth Munro watched in horror. She dropped her spoon and slowly stood up. The telephone receiver banged uselessly against the wood panelled walls. She screamed. And the whole restaurant screamed with her. * * * McKay and the Waiter materialised in the "reception" area and they were instantly hauled out of the foul pit and marched along the roughly hewn stone walled corridors to... The arena. McKay's head was spinning. He didn't know what had happened or where he was. This was all too much to take in in so short a time. Where was Ruth? Come to that, where the fucking hell was the bloody restaurant? What the fuck was happening? He looked at the Waiter. If it was possible, the Waiter seemed even more petrified than he was, his face was drawn and he was sweating copiously as the dark stooped, hooded creatures cruelly dragged the two of them along to the edge of the gaping pit of the arena itself. McKay looked down. Jonathan looked up. "Don't lose your balance!! Don't lose your balance!!" shouted a heavily scarred man sat on the edge of the arena. He only had one arm left and his face was a bloody pulp, but he was still alive. "Alan Park!" exclaimed McKay, recognising the bus driver, "And Jonathan Hathaway!!" He shouted down to the man in the stinking pit. Jonathan looked up with a start and fell over backwards onto the cold stone floor. The huge furry behemoth that faced him in the arena wielded its huge broadsword and chopped his head clean off with a spray of thick red blood. 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