It was a dark and meteor-showery night in London and the chestnut-haired,
stunningly-dressed woman on the balcony of her flat was observing the
spectacle through a telescope. She stepped back as a meteorite plummeted
right at her feet and frowning, she picked it up to investigate it.
Turning it over in her hand, she blinked in surprise. Written in green ink was the beginning of a message. "Mrs. Peel."
An older man, whose attire included an impeccably tailored, though decidedly old-fashioned suit, a tightly furled umbrella, and a bowler hat, suddenly appeared behind her. "We're needed."
****
"Steed, where are we going?"
"To Smallville, Kansas," the driver answered. "Very mysterious things going on there."
"Such as?"
His eyes widened in mock wonder as he glanced at her. "Bizarre mutations. Mysterious disappearances. And all sorts of mayhem. All stemming from a time when there was a meteor shower back in the '80s."
"How odd. Were the meteorites radioactive?"
"Ahhh, there's where the scientists all argue quite wildly. A great butting of eggheads."
"So why are they calling us in?"
"Colonel Robertson suspects Lionel Luthor of being involved."
"Lionel Luthor..." She shook her head and tsked. "Not a very pleasant man to deal with. Utterly ruthless."
"You've dealt with him personally?" Steed shot her a quick look.
"We've met, but not had any business dealings. I sold off Knight Industries before he was looking for overseas acquisitions. But from everything one hears, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he were involved."
"He had a 19th century Scottish mansion rebuilt there and his son lives in it now. Used to run one of the smaller plants for LuthorCorp, then went independent, and then got taken back into the corporate fold."
Emma Peel pondered a moment. "So we have a meteor shower, two Luthors, and mutations, disappearances, and mayhem. Well, it might be interesting."
AN:
This is all, entirely, 100+ percent thediehard's fault. Even when she knew that it would be all her fault, she dared me.
Turning it over in her hand, she blinked in surprise. Written in green ink was the beginning of a message. "Mrs. Peel."
An older man, whose attire included an impeccably tailored, though decidedly old-fashioned suit, a tightly furled umbrella, and a bowler hat, suddenly appeared behind her. "We're needed."
****
"Steed, where are we going?"
"To Smallville, Kansas," the driver answered. "Very mysterious things going on there."
"Such as?"
His eyes widened in mock wonder as he glanced at her. "Bizarre mutations. Mysterious disappearances. And all sorts of mayhem. All stemming from a time when there was a meteor shower back in the '80s."
"How odd. Were the meteorites radioactive?"
"Ahhh, there's where the scientists all argue quite wildly. A great butting of eggheads."
"So why are they calling us in?"
"Colonel Robertson suspects Lionel Luthor of being involved."
"Lionel Luthor..." She shook her head and tsked. "Not a very pleasant man to deal with. Utterly ruthless."
"You've dealt with him personally?" Steed shot her a quick look.
"We've met, but not had any business dealings. I sold off Knight Industries before he was looking for overseas acquisitions. But from everything one hears, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he were involved."
"He had a 19th century Scottish mansion rebuilt there and his son lives in it now. Used to run one of the smaller plants for LuthorCorp, then went independent, and then got taken back into the corporate fold."
Emma Peel pondered a moment. "So we have a meteor shower, two Luthors, and mutations, disappearances, and mayhem. Well, it might be interesting."
AN:
This is all, entirely, 100+ percent thediehard's fault. Even when she knew that it would be all her fault, she dared me.