Discover more from The Giggler
Over the Top Secret - Chapter 23
AKA Krav Maga
You’re reading Over the Top Secret, a zany spy adventure! Subscribe to get new chapters delivered to your inbox. Thanks for reading!
Start at the beginning (Prologue - AKA Mission Report)
Read the previous chapter (Chapter 22 - AKA Another Damn Experiment)
Read the next chapter (Chapter 24 - AKA Follow That Rat!)
Paid subscribers: listen to this week’s exclusive audio chapter in The Giggler Podcast, here!
When Dr. Souris returns, he brings with him a different assistant— a mutated overweight woman with multiple forearms protruding from a single elbow joint on each arm. The woman’s smile extends wide enough to reveal slimy, sharp teeth. I grimace.
“What’s your plan, Doctor?” I ask, an attempt to stall.
He places what looks like a metallic Yarmulke on the back of my head. It feels heavy and cool on my scalp. “My plan?”
“Does no one stick to their plans in this messed up world? Yes! Your plan! To rule the world, to avenge your dead mother or whatever it is that made you this way!”
“I do not wish to rule the world. I simply wish to be a Python.”
A rat who wants to turn himself into a snake. Some evil villain he is. “Care to explain what that has to do with me?”
“Stop trying to stall, girl.” He tells his multi-appendaged assistant to make sure I don’t move. The woman, if she can still be called that, takes a step between us and places two of her slimy hands on my shoulders, pushing me back into the chair.
“Isn’t this the part where you tell me all about your diabolical reasoning behind these disgusting experiments?”
“That would be an immense waste of time.” Dr. Souris states. “Also, how dare you insult my creations? They’re beautiful and ingenious.” He gestures to the creature standing between us. “Look at Stella here. She is now able to perform with superior dexterity, and her reflexes are superb.”
Stella wiggles her extra limbs to demonstrate.
“What about the family you stole her from? Do you even care that these people are people?”
“These people are my subjects. They’re part of history, something anyone should be pleased to be a part of.”
“Stella doesn’t look too content about it.”
The girl’s eyes are downcast, though the rest of her features seem to blare at me, “I WANT TO KILL YOU.” I wonder how he got Stella to listen to him. I doubt the bird girl obeys orders.
Dr. Souris powers on the headpiece, and the edges singe my skin.
“Yow!” I shake my head, trying to get it off. It doesn’t budge.
“Don’t be afraid, I’m a doctor.” Dr. Souris flashes a self-satisfied grin at his little joke. “This little device has blades that will extend into your head, just around the edges of your brain, allowing me to remove the cerebrum while it remains intact.”
My mouth drops. The mouse man giggles.
“It’s finally my time!” Dr. Souris dramatically reaches out to press a button on his computer screen. When his finger is a centimeter away, something WHIZZES past with a whistle and lands right in the center of the giant computer, cracking the screen into a hundred pieces in an explosion of electric hissing.
Dr. Souris, Stella, and I whip our heads around to see Eric standing in the hallway, holding a T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T. pen as if it were a gun. His muscles glisten with sweat beneath the rips in his dirt-streaked cotton shirt. The bloody scratches on his face add ruggedness to his heroic entrance.
“Eric!” I say, incredibly relieved to see him.
“What have you done!” Dr. Souris shrieks. He pulls the dart from the screen, hands shaking. “My information!”
“That information belongs to T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T.,” says Eric. He takes a step forward and drops the dart pen on the floor with a clatter. “Hand it over now.”
A bubbling laugh emerges from the deepest recesses of Dr. Souris. “Absolutely not,” he says, then he yanks the little USB from its plastic charging port (without properly ejecting it first!) and places the small piece of plastic in his lab coat pocket. He gives Eric a look that says, “Now what are you going to do?” Eric grits his teeth.
“Don’t make me ask again,” Eric says, stepping forward once more. The lights flicker, and only half remain on, bathing the area in an eerie fluorescent glow.
The harsh shadows accentuate Eric’s downcast face as he glares at Dr. Souris, who glares right back through his thick-rimmed magnifying glasses.
“What the hell are you waiting for, Eric? Get us out of here!” I shout.
Dr. Souris slaps me with his rubber glove, sending a flurry of stars spinning across my vision. I gasp. Seriously, did he just fish-slap me?
“Quiet, girl!” He turns back to Eric. “I will give up neither,” he says. Then he pulls a walkie talkie off the counter. “CCCRRRK! Chantal, forget what I said earlier— send the subjects—”
But everything he’s saying is being repeated back to us a second later. From Eric’s belt, where Chantal’s walkie hangs.
Eric picks up the walkie talkie and answers into it, “She’s not available,” with a smirk.
Dr. Souris lets out an angry groan and throws the walkie talkie into the cobblestone floor with surprising force, considering his tiny T-Rex arms. “What have you done to her?”
“Your saggy girlfriend was torn apart when she stepped between me and the half-rat-half-girl abomination you call an experiment,” he says.
“What was subject five-thirteen doing out of her cage?” Dr. Souris whispers worriedly to himself.
“There’s a huge jailbreak down the hall, Doctor. You should get your locks fixed.” Eric shakes his head disapprovingly. “It’s a blood bath,” he continues.
The tourists must have discovered the doors were unlocked.
“And I’m going to feed you to your own dogs unless you hand over The Backup. Now.” Eric holds out his open palm expectantly.
Dr. Souris takes a deep breath, thinking for a moment. Then he says, “That doesn’t sound very good to me.”
“I don’t care.”
“How about I give you The Backup,” Dr. Souris holds up a finger, prompting Eric to wait for the good part, “in exchange for the girl?”
Eric looks at me, tied up and covered in nastiness. Why hasn’t he burst into a fit of kung fu awesomeness yet?
Eric nods once and says, “Deal.”
“What!” I shriek.
Eric gives me a shrug, but it is burned in the waves of magma heat emanating from my fuming head.
“Toss it over,” Eric says, and just as Dr. Souris reaches into his jacket pocket, the lights flicker out entirely, dissolving the whole room into shadows.
My eyes quickly adjust to the darkness as I scour the room. Eric lunges after Dr. Souris, but the freak with five arms jumps in the way, and now Eric and Stella are duking it out in the darkness.
To my right, something lets out a heavy grunt. I squint. Greyson’s large lethargic body slowly stirs. Great. He’s waking up. And I’m still sitting here like a helpless piece of crap! I yank against the leather straps, forgetting that my arm is totally out of place. Pain sears through my entire left side.
Eric’s scuffling sounds grow louder with each passing second. C’mon, Julie!
I pull my left wrist free and quickly fumble through my jeans pocket for a pen. Aha! I grab the tiny handle and force my almost entirely non-responsive fingers to click the switch, sending a bright white beam of light across the room.
A flashlight pen! Thank goodness it wasn’t another flash grenade.
I get a glimpse at the action unfolding in the dark before me. The grunting is coming from the multi-armed mutant— who is fighting herself! She’s tangled up in her too-many limbs, slapping her own face. Dr. Souris fumbles for something in his desk drawer in the middle of the room and Eric is stretched out behind him, his hand inches from The Backup in Dr. Souris’ pocket.
“Aahh!” Eric shields his eyes.
Dr. Souris grabs a giant rusty key from his drawer and shoots a conspiratorial glance over his shoulder in my direction before scurrying out of the room and down the other hallway. The mutant turns to Eric and me, its gaze locked on our positions.
“What the hell, Julie!”
The mutant roars and jumps forward. Eric darts in front of me, blocking Stella’s blow and knocking the flashlight out of my hand. It clicks itself off when it clatters to the ground, and our eyes are left to adjust to the darkness once more.
Full of fear and sweat and stress, I suddenly don’t see a positive outcome for this situation. I scrunch my eyelids shut real tight and say one last prayer.
Dear God, please make my death quick and painless.
I realize perhaps that’s asking for too much.
If pain is inevitable, please make it minimal.
Perhaps it’s an answer to my prayer, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but just then, my back arches and my eyes fly open. I gulp down a deep breath. Karate fighting stances flash behind my eyes in a half-second before disappearing.
In an instant, I’m full of energy and confidence as I rip the leather straps off the rest of my limps and jump to my feet.
Though the room is still bathed in darkness, every movement around me is suddenly on my radar. It’s like I just drank twenty jugs of carrot juice.
The mutant flings its arm toward Eric in a deadly blow, but I step between them and block it.
Who is taking over my body?
I watch, totally out of control, as my own body kicks ass and defeats the mutant in a few swift movements. Eric watches with his mouth slightly agape as the mutant falls to the floor with a sickening crunch. Each of her forearms breaks under her weight.
“Where did that come from?” he breathes.
“I have no idea. I’m so full of energy and power!” I punch the air in front of me. “I’ve never felt this way before. It’s like I’m not in control of my body.”
Eric’s eyebrow shoots up. Somehow, he manages to make everything seem inappropriate. I roll my eyes at him.
“Focus. We need to get the backup,” I say.
“He went this way.” Eric points to the hallway and starts for the corridor. I follow suit.
“Wait, what happened to—” I start, but Greyson steps in between us and the exit. Eric’s jaw drops.
Greyson smiles, fresh burn scars altering the way his lips bend.
“How the hell are you still alive?” Eric asks, more pissed off than incredulous.
Greyson ignores the question and takes a substantial step forward.
“Did all the ‘almost dying’ affect your voice box?” Eric goads. “Are you now the epitome of a sack of meat?”
Greyson answers with a mechanical whirring sound. His eyepatch lights up red, and a laser beam shoots from his eye, catching Stella on fire in the corner of the room. Flames erupt around her body.
“Now we’re talking,” Eric says. He jumps for Greyson. The movement looks like that of a flipbook in the flickering light of the flames. Greyson shoots another laser at Eric, but Eric anticipates this and ducks out of the way. He wraps his hand around Greyson’s eyepatch, prepared to yank the dang thing off his face, but recoils in pain a moment later.
“Jesus, that’s hot!”
Eric does a perfect roundhouse kick to Greyson’s side. It has no effect on the henchman, except maybe it’s the reason he lets out a deep laugh.
Still full of unexplainable energy and power, I jump in between the two men, intending to stop this nonsense with my newfound fighting abilities.
But the surge of awesomeness wears off just as my puny, bony fist meets Greyson’s rock-hard stomach. I hear the crunch before I feel it.
“Aah!” I gasp.
My hand is broken. I fight back an onslaught of tears and force myself to breathe as I crumple to the ground.
So much for being Super Woman.
Greyson steps right over me, an insignificant bump in the road, and shoots another laser beam at Eric. It catches on the soiled bed and erupts into a giant fireball.
“Julie, get up!” Eric tells me. His voice echoes in my head, which now feels utterly empty after all the hoopla. Was that the “big test” Simon mentioned in our phone call? If so, I’m going to have a word with him when we get back.
If we get back.
“Go after Dr. Souris, I’ll handle this oaf,” Eric continues. He raises his fists in a fighting stance as another laser beam singes the edge of his shirt. I scramble to my feet.
“Right. On it!” I dart down the hallway with absolutely no idea where I’m headed.
My head is throbbing, my pits are sweating profusely (either from the terror surging through my body or just a continued side effect of being the temporary McGuffin), my shoulder sears with pain, and my broken hand lies limp at my side, utterly useless.
As I continue my half-jog half-run through the somehow undiscovered secret evil lair in the sewers of Paris, I realize I’ve yet to see the Eiffel Tower.
Loving Over the Top Secret? Get your goofball friends to start reading, too! 😄