~a/n: ah, the Quagmire triplets. I enjoy them quite a bit. This is just a
quick little thing that popped into my head when I was make strawberry kiwi
jell-o and drinking a cup of coffee at two in the morning. And so here it
is. You should no that there is no more logic to the title than the CKY
song I was listening to as I wrote it. Now on with the fun!
S i n k i n t o t h e U n d e r g r o u n d
Duncan Quagmire tried to look as fearsome as he could despite the pain in his side and the fear that dragged his heart to the bottom of his stomach. "Where is Isadora?" he snarled.
The hook-handed man in the chair nearby snorted, not looking up from his newspaper. "Oh, she's around here somewhere." He no more than finished his sentence when a high pitched, feminine scream ripped through the air. "Oh look, there she is now." He laughed to himself and turned the page. Watching a man with hooks where his hands should be turning a newspaper page is a rather interesting thing to see, as it involves a clever harmony of both the metal appendages and the one knee, but the man seemed rather practiced in it.
"You--you're going to kill her, aren't you?" Duncan asked, resting his face against the cool metal bars of the cage.
"Well, not me personally, but someone might. Not yet though. We have to keep one of you alive, and we're still trying to decide which one we like more. I'm personally hoping for you--you're at least mildly interesting conversation. All your sister does is sit there and cry."
"Can't say I blame her," Duncan spat. "You all are horrible to her."
"This is true." The man set his newspaper on the floor and pulled a white handkerchief out of his. Catching it in his right hook, he began polishing the left one and whistling a cheerful tune.
Duncan leaned back against the other end of the little cage and closed his eyes, clutching his side. He looked down at the spot where he had been kicked before and in the dim light of the bare bulb he saw a violet bruise spreading. He took a deep, shaking breath and waited for a wave of dizziness to pass.
There was a loud thunk from upstairs and an angry shout. "Flo doesn't sound too pleased. Either that or Tocuna is just having fun scaring the crap out of your sister. God, I used to love tormenting people like that. These hooks were really an advantage in situations like that, but I'm afraid I've rather fallen out of practice. Maybe I can perfect my technique on your sweet little sister."
Duncan turned to him suddenly. "You stay away from my sister."
"Cute little thing though," he continued as though he had not heard him, "sweet, almost. It's rather endearing when she tries to protect you when someone gets pissed at you. Damn, now that I think of it, I wouldn't mind keeping her around for a little bit. She's quite amusing. She's also getting to be quite a pretty little thing."
"You stay away from her or I'll--"
He laughed. "You'll what? Keep in mind, little fellow, you're the one down there with a notebook and a ball point pen as I sit here polishing two highly sharpened stainless steal hooks. And in any event, my intentions toward your sister were nothing less than honorable. I'm quite offended you thought so."
Duncan looked across the dark room and felt his heart sinking. What were they going to do? They had to get out of there, and quickly, but how? The hook-handed man was right--he had nothing more than a pen, a notebook, and a load of unanswered questions. "When is Isadora coming back?"
"Probably whenever Tocuna gets bored with scaring her. Lonely, are you?"
"A bit," he lied. They had to figure out a plan, and he couldn't do it alone.
He laughed again. "Well, I'm only here to make sure you don't get any dangerous ideas like those little friends of yours. Sorry I can't help you out there."
A little squeal came from the stairs nearby and Duncan turned. "Isadora!"
"Hi there," the hook handed man said mildly, waving a hook at her.
One of the pale, powder faced women shoved Isadora into the small cage. "We're moving them out tomorrow. The good Count has a nice little home set up for them on Dark Avenue. You remember that Esme chick? Her place is the next stop on our crusade. She managed to talk that candy ass husband of hers into adopting that other set of orphans."
Duncan's heart simultaneously leapt into his throat and shriveled hopelessly. They would be near the Bauldilares, and if anyone could help them escape it would be Violet, Klaus, and Sunny, but he didn't want to put them in any danger...not to mention that fact that transport was hell--the two triplets would be crammed back into the gutted tuba case, twisted and bruised from hours of riding in the storage compartment of a train or bus, then shoved into another padlocked cage where they would wait until someone decided which of them to kill.
Bleak didn't even begin to describe the cloud on the Quagmire's horizon.
S i n k i n t o t h e U n d e r g r o u n d
Duncan Quagmire tried to look as fearsome as he could despite the pain in his side and the fear that dragged his heart to the bottom of his stomach. "Where is Isadora?" he snarled.
The hook-handed man in the chair nearby snorted, not looking up from his newspaper. "Oh, she's around here somewhere." He no more than finished his sentence when a high pitched, feminine scream ripped through the air. "Oh look, there she is now." He laughed to himself and turned the page. Watching a man with hooks where his hands should be turning a newspaper page is a rather interesting thing to see, as it involves a clever harmony of both the metal appendages and the one knee, but the man seemed rather practiced in it.
"You--you're going to kill her, aren't you?" Duncan asked, resting his face against the cool metal bars of the cage.
"Well, not me personally, but someone might. Not yet though. We have to keep one of you alive, and we're still trying to decide which one we like more. I'm personally hoping for you--you're at least mildly interesting conversation. All your sister does is sit there and cry."
"Can't say I blame her," Duncan spat. "You all are horrible to her."
"This is true." The man set his newspaper on the floor and pulled a white handkerchief out of his. Catching it in his right hook, he began polishing the left one and whistling a cheerful tune.
Duncan leaned back against the other end of the little cage and closed his eyes, clutching his side. He looked down at the spot where he had been kicked before and in the dim light of the bare bulb he saw a violet bruise spreading. He took a deep, shaking breath and waited for a wave of dizziness to pass.
There was a loud thunk from upstairs and an angry shout. "Flo doesn't sound too pleased. Either that or Tocuna is just having fun scaring the crap out of your sister. God, I used to love tormenting people like that. These hooks were really an advantage in situations like that, but I'm afraid I've rather fallen out of practice. Maybe I can perfect my technique on your sweet little sister."
Duncan turned to him suddenly. "You stay away from my sister."
"Cute little thing though," he continued as though he had not heard him, "sweet, almost. It's rather endearing when she tries to protect you when someone gets pissed at you. Damn, now that I think of it, I wouldn't mind keeping her around for a little bit. She's quite amusing. She's also getting to be quite a pretty little thing."
"You stay away from her or I'll--"
He laughed. "You'll what? Keep in mind, little fellow, you're the one down there with a notebook and a ball point pen as I sit here polishing two highly sharpened stainless steal hooks. And in any event, my intentions toward your sister were nothing less than honorable. I'm quite offended you thought so."
Duncan looked across the dark room and felt his heart sinking. What were they going to do? They had to get out of there, and quickly, but how? The hook-handed man was right--he had nothing more than a pen, a notebook, and a load of unanswered questions. "When is Isadora coming back?"
"Probably whenever Tocuna gets bored with scaring her. Lonely, are you?"
"A bit," he lied. They had to figure out a plan, and he couldn't do it alone.
He laughed again. "Well, I'm only here to make sure you don't get any dangerous ideas like those little friends of yours. Sorry I can't help you out there."
A little squeal came from the stairs nearby and Duncan turned. "Isadora!"
"Hi there," the hook handed man said mildly, waving a hook at her.
One of the pale, powder faced women shoved Isadora into the small cage. "We're moving them out tomorrow. The good Count has a nice little home set up for them on Dark Avenue. You remember that Esme chick? Her place is the next stop on our crusade. She managed to talk that candy ass husband of hers into adopting that other set of orphans."
Duncan's heart simultaneously leapt into his throat and shriveled hopelessly. They would be near the Bauldilares, and if anyone could help them escape it would be Violet, Klaus, and Sunny, but he didn't want to put them in any danger...not to mention that fact that transport was hell--the two triplets would be crammed back into the gutted tuba case, twisted and bruised from hours of riding in the storage compartment of a train or bus, then shoved into another padlocked cage where they would wait until someone decided which of them to kill.
Bleak didn't even begin to describe the cloud on the Quagmire's horizon.