As the door to the room where the others were being held swung open, Mrs.
Peel looked, expectantly to the figure who now came in. As she saw Anri
move into view, her eyes filled with tears. He looked up, and smiled, then
dropped Steed's legs and turned, his back toward Steed.
"That's right, Mrs. Peel," he gloated. "You're precious Steed fell for the simple trap that we set for him. And now, you're all going to-"
During this speech, Steed had slowly gotten to his feet and brought his bowler down on Anri's head.
CLANG!
Both Batman and Robin looked startled at the unlikely sound. Steed stiffled a laugh and brushed off the bowler before tapping the crown on an empty table.
"Metal," he explained smuggly.
**************************************************************************** **********
"How did you know that Anri would try to hit you on the back of the head, and render you unconscious in that manner," Batman asked. After delivering Anri to the police, everyone had gone to Bruce's London flat, and Alfred was now serving them tea.
"Robin gave me the hint. He said that his head was sore."
Bruce smiled at the pint-sized hero. "Good work, old chum."
"I don't know," Mrs. Peel sighed.
"Is something wrong, Mrs. Peel" Bruce asked, concern showing in both his voice and his face. Steed bristled, and moved closer to Mrs. Peel.
"It just seems too easy," Mrs. Peel explained. "Almost like someone set it up, so that," her voice trailed off.
"We wouldn't find the real mastermind behind this plot," Steed finished.
"Exactly," Mrs. Peel acknowledged, staring straight into Steed's eyes, electricity sparking between them.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Well, I think it's about time for bed." Steed and Mrs. Peel jumped.
"We'll see you tomorrow, Bruce," Mrs. Peel questioned, rising to leave.
"Most definitely," he replied with a smile.
Steed fumed as the walked out the door to his Bentley, as well as the entire way to Mrs. Peel's flat.
"Good-night, Steed," Mrs. Peel smiled lovingly at him, before lightly kissing Steed's cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."
"I'll call you. Good-night, Mrs. Peel," Steed replied, feeling more jovial than he had all day. He watched in admiration as she walked gracefully through the door of her building. Sighing, he reached his hand down to take off the parking brake. But at the same time, a hand holding a gun reached forward from the back seat. Steed stiffened as he felt the cold metal of the gun press against the back of his head.
"Easy does it, Mr. Steed," The voice was cold, yet feminine. "Don't turn around, just pretend everything is normal. Except at this next stoplight, turn left."
Steed managed to catch a glimpse of the woman in the rearview mirror: petite, blonde, with a pageboy haircut, and an expression of pure evil on her face. "You know you didn't have to bring a gun," he quipped. "I'd do anything for a pretty lady."
"Just drive," she growled.
"That's right, Mrs. Peel," he gloated. "You're precious Steed fell for the simple trap that we set for him. And now, you're all going to-"
During this speech, Steed had slowly gotten to his feet and brought his bowler down on Anri's head.
CLANG!
Both Batman and Robin looked startled at the unlikely sound. Steed stiffled a laugh and brushed off the bowler before tapping the crown on an empty table.
"Metal," he explained smuggly.
**************************************************************************** **********
"How did you know that Anri would try to hit you on the back of the head, and render you unconscious in that manner," Batman asked. After delivering Anri to the police, everyone had gone to Bruce's London flat, and Alfred was now serving them tea.
"Robin gave me the hint. He said that his head was sore."
Bruce smiled at the pint-sized hero. "Good work, old chum."
"I don't know," Mrs. Peel sighed.
"Is something wrong, Mrs. Peel" Bruce asked, concern showing in both his voice and his face. Steed bristled, and moved closer to Mrs. Peel.
"It just seems too easy," Mrs. Peel explained. "Almost like someone set it up, so that," her voice trailed off.
"We wouldn't find the real mastermind behind this plot," Steed finished.
"Exactly," Mrs. Peel acknowledged, staring straight into Steed's eyes, electricity sparking between them.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Well, I think it's about time for bed." Steed and Mrs. Peel jumped.
"We'll see you tomorrow, Bruce," Mrs. Peel questioned, rising to leave.
"Most definitely," he replied with a smile.
Steed fumed as the walked out the door to his Bentley, as well as the entire way to Mrs. Peel's flat.
"Good-night, Steed," Mrs. Peel smiled lovingly at him, before lightly kissing Steed's cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."
"I'll call you. Good-night, Mrs. Peel," Steed replied, feeling more jovial than he had all day. He watched in admiration as she walked gracefully through the door of her building. Sighing, he reached his hand down to take off the parking brake. But at the same time, a hand holding a gun reached forward from the back seat. Steed stiffened as he felt the cold metal of the gun press against the back of his head.
"Easy does it, Mr. Steed," The voice was cold, yet feminine. "Don't turn around, just pretend everything is normal. Except at this next stoplight, turn left."
Steed managed to catch a glimpse of the woman in the rearview mirror: petite, blonde, with a pageboy haircut, and an expression of pure evil on her face. "You know you didn't have to bring a gun," he quipped. "I'd do anything for a pretty lady."
"Just drive," she growled.