"No!" Antonia Quaver, the world-famous conductor, tapped her baton impatiently. "You're playing far too softly. This is going to be the world premier of this piece. It's not just music, but a plea for humanity! You've got to make the audience feel the music." She looked at her watch. "OK, take five."
The orchestra started to shuffle away for coffee or the loo.
Davyd Lowe, a young player of the double bass, went to his shared dressing room for peace and quiet. He grinned to himself. No wonder Antonia was getting so worked up. This plea for humanity was her own composition. And the Last Night of the Progs was the classical music event of the year, broadcast not just in the UK, but around the world.
It wasn't as if Antonia needed to worry. No one watching in the Royal Concert Hall, or at home, would know what the piece was meant to sound like.
He entered the room. He stopped.
The case for his double bass was propped up against the wall, and was slightly open. He knew he hadn't left it like that.
Davyd took a few curious steps towards it.
Slowly, he put out a hand to open the case...
Then a burly man in a purple branded uniform sprang out of the case and seized him by the arms. Another, identically-dressed man came from behind the dressing room door, and grabbed Davyd by his long hair, pulling his head back. Davyd looked at him in fear.
The second man produced an aerosol can, and held it up to Davyd's face. He gave him a quick spray of a thick, green gas.
Davyd coughed and spluttered. Then he smiled at the man.
"Hey, you look nice. Where d'you get that... outfit..."
His head fell back, followed by his body.
The two MAD agents bundled the unconscious musician out of the room.
Four thousand miles away, in an apartment in Metro City, another musician was busy at the tuba. But this one wore a hat and trenchcoat, and had considerably less talent than Davyd Lowe.
Penny covered her ears. Brain had his head buried beneath a cushion.
"Uncle Gadget, they've got music practice rooms at the Community Arts Centre. Have you thought about hiring one?"
He couldn't even hear her. Penny went out onto the balcony, though it was scarcely quieter. Their neighbours must have thought an elephant was being tortured. Since his retirement and subsequent return to HQ, Uncle Gadget had enjoyed more leave days, and now had far too much time for hobbies. Penny really wished he'd take up the piccolo.
It was late August, and Metro City was swelteringly hot. Lots of their HQ colleagues were on leave. The Gadgets had largely been unoccupied since the art robbery at Metro Hall. Maybe MAD was on vacation, too.
Penny almost wished Talon would fly by, just to break the monotony. When she last saw him, he was being thrown into a van, with several fake paintings. She found herself oddly worried about him nowadays, when he wasn't there.
If only a new mission would arrive...
As if in answer to her prayers, the pager function went off on her Codex. She ran back into the apartment, just in time to see Uncle Gadget play another ear-splitting note, and Chief Quimby's head emerge from the end of the tuba.
As always, Inspector Gadget showed no surprise.
"Chief! I didn't expect to get a note from you."
A mission ball rolled out of the tuba case, at Uncle Gadget's feet. The Inspector picked it up, and viewed Chief Quimby's message.
"Several musicians have disappeared from the Royal Concert Hall in London, England, while in rehearsal for the Progs classical concerts. Probable MAD involvement puts this within our jurisdiction. Your mission, Gadget, should you choose to accept it, and even if you don't, is to travel to London and investigate these disappearances. You'll be working undercover, in the guise of journalists from a US musical magazine. The Progs is broadcast on international television, so any action on MAD's part would get the widest possible audience. Particularly on the Last Night of the Progs, in early September. Report back to us at HQ, at every opportunity. This message will not self-destruct, because frankly I'm sick of being blown up."
The message faded. Inspector Gadget looked doubtful.
"That's quite a trek, Chief. We'll be away for a week or two, at least."
"Yes." Chief Quimby looked almost blissful. "I know!"
"Are you sure you'll be OK without me?"
"YES! I mean, I'm sure we'll manage. I mean... would you like to stay in a hotel? I'm sure we can find the budget. Heck, I'll invent a budget! Don't feel any need to hurry back, if you want to do some sightseeing..."
Inspector Gadget got up.
"C'mon, Penny. We need to pack. London, here we come!"
He blew a final blast on the tuba, sending the Chief flying through the open window.