They stepped out into a town square, opposite a small, seedy bar. Elizabeth was peering through the keyhole and looking shocked, and she gestured for them to come over.

"What the hell..." muttered Julianne, peering in to see a darkened, seedy bar, with a packed and heaving dance floor situated in front

of a grimy bar. George, Julian and Dick were downing tequila shots beneath a sign that read 'Guys: No shirt, no service, Girls: No shirt, no charge', while Anne was dancing provocatively on top of a nearby table.

"Looks like we got here just in time," said Ria grimly, rolling up her sleeves and preparing to enter this den of vice.

"Whoa! Wait just one second," said a tall dark-haired man, appearing suddenly in front of the town sundial and striding over.

"Do you think you can just waltz into a Bookworm-induced O.O.C. Zone and put it right just like that?"

"I'm sorry, you are?" asked Julianne crossly.

"Peter Casablancas, MI7," said the man coolly, before attempting to flip open his badge in a sophisticated, Mulder-esque way, but succeeding only in throwing it at Ria's feet. She gave him a condescending look.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking at his feet in an embarrassed way.

"MI7? There's no MI7," said Julianne sceptically.

"Yes there is. MI7, or the L.G.E.P., deal with literary infringements such as this one, and you are on my turf. This is my O.O.C. situation," he replied, looking back at her evenly.

"L.G.E.P.? O.O.C.?" said Ria. "Will you quit it with the goddam acronyms!"

"O.O.C. stands for Out Of Characterness. L.G.E.P. stands for Literata Glitterata Extraordinata Police," he explained.

"That's quite a mouthful," said Elizabeth.

"Yeah, that's why we call it L.G.E.P.," said Peter, bending down and scooping up his badge. "That's the last time we leave the work-experience kid alone in the office on re-branding day, I can tell you."

"Well, nice to meet you, Mr Casablancas," said Julianne calmly.

"Likewise," replied Peter.

"So, what exactly do you suggest we do?" asked Ria. "Seeing as we can't, you know, just waltz in, as you say."

"First, the Bookworm will be long gone by now," said Peter. "They normally don't hang around. They wreak their havoc and leave within the space of a couple of hours, giving a relatively small timescale for finding and removing them once their effects are noticed."

"How can you be sure?" said Julianne sceptically.

"The D.D.D.D. isn't showing anywhere near high enough readings to indicate the presence of a Bookworm," replied Peter.

"Did you not understand my warning about the acronyms?" said Ria threateningly.

"D.D.D.D. stands for Dramatically Dashing Data Discombobulator," said Peter.

"Discombobulator?" enquired Elizabeth with a raised eyebrow.

"Dramatically Dashing?" snorted Julianne.

"Work experience kid," explained Peter.

"So, if the Bookworm is gone, what do we do now?" asked Ria.

"Set the plot right," said Peter, rummaging around in his bag. "Ah-hah. Cover your ears."

"What?" asked Julianne, as Peter pulled out a small grenade labelled 'Plot Device Resetter' and pulled out the pin, before opening the door of the bar a crack and lobbing it in.

"I said, cover your –" began Peter, but he was interrupted by a loud boom from within the bar, which immediately imploded in on itself in a swirl of random text.

"Oooohhhh," muttered Julianne, rubbing her ears.

"Too late," said Peter, shouldering his bag. "On we go!"

"Umm...how do we move to the next book?" asked Ria. "Seeing as the portal is back in Canterbury."

"Way ahead of you," said Peter, unfolding a large map. "There's several inter-literary portals situated in this story, and they're all clearly marked on this map."

"Well, lead the way, Sherlock," said Julianne.

"All right, just let me work out the route...so that would be a right? No, left. Hmmmm...left fork...carry the one..."

"Are you all right?" asked Ria.

"Don't worry, I can do it!" said Peter indignantly. "Right, I think I've got it. This way!" The group marched off after him.