Hello... first proper chapter is up! Sorry it's short... the actual missions will be longer than this. Enjoy!
At PHAN HQ, there was no state of panic mainly because, at this point, the agents had gone far beyond mere panic. They ran around like beheaded chickenswith fireworks up their backsides, documents were flying everywhere like snow, and a couple of Agents, locked in mutual despair, were trying to forcibly imprint the score to The Phantom of the Opera musical on their brains. At least one person had gone insane and was now gabbling various lines from the movies.
To an observer, it might have looked quite funny.
"Get me that report!" Shouted a voice over the throng.
"Only love and music are forever!"
"Can I get some volunteers here?"
"Where are those costume designs?"
"You alone can make my song take flight!"
"Have you drawn up that list yet?"
"Will all Field Agents please report to the Dungeon Room?"
"I'm not a Phantom… I'm a – "
"Oh for god's sake, will someone get her out of here!"
At this point two PHANS appeared and dragged the poor insane girl away. She was last heard shrieking the high notes of "The Phantom of the Opera" song, at which point they shot her with a tranquilizer dart and put her in a padded, sound-proof room.
The one in charge, known as The Organiser (get it? ORGANiser? ORGAN? Oh, whatever…) was throttling her secretary when the report that she should have had five minutes ago was brought.
"Finally," she said, taking it quickly. It was an inventory of their resources, and she scanned it quickly. There was a pause. "Is this it?" she asked the girl who had brought it.
"Well…" the girl shifted her feet nervously, trying to think of some way to pacify the boss. "We have multiple amounts of just about everything."
"I wanted a weapons inventory! This is a list of Phantom Memorabilia! Look at this… a Phantom of the Opera fridge magnet?"
"It was a limited edition," the girl volunteered.
The Organiser's stare could have bent steel bars into pretzel-shapes. "And this is going to help us in the fight against CRITICS is it?" The girl faltered. "And I suppose you expect our agents to tackle covert operations with programs from the original musical showing? And defeat enemies by sticking them with Phantom brooch pins?"
"We do have Punjab Lasso replicas."
"And how many of us actually know how to use them?"
The secretary, who had struggled to her feet and could now breathe properly, raised a hand. "I suppose if we got them all tied up we could get information from them by threatening to show the Dario Argento film." At this her boss, and everyone else within earshot, shuddered. "I am sorry…" she went on. "But you do remember it was you who confiscated all the major offensive weapons after that nasty incident with the fop-supporters."
The Organiser grudgingly conceded the point. It had taken several months to remove the bloods stains after that little mix up. A group of Raoul fans had accidentally walked in on them. As it turned out, they took the phrase "die-hard fan" a little too seriously.
"Well… we'll just have to improvise," she said at last and quickly changed the subject. "Do we have the blue-prints for the time-machine? I want to start sending Agents in as soon as possible."
The secretary nodded, and rushed off to find them. Sighing, The Organiser looked back at the stack of forms on her desk. Managing lots of crazed Phantom 'Phans' was a tough job. Just last week they had been sent in to deal with an extremely serious case of "Ph-syndrome". A rather serious strain of the disease had been found in a school, and the teachers were going spare over the fact that 16 years of English lessons were now being forgotten in favour of substituting 'f' for 'ph'. The kids' grades had taken a hard knock as a result.
Right now she would have welcomed an epidemic of "Ph-syndrome".
"Somebody get me some coffee!"
There was a general scuffle and a few minutes later a cup was placed in front of her. She stared down at it.
"What the hell is this?"
"Russian tea?"
"I ordered bloody coffee!"
A helpless shrug was the only reply. The Organiser, realising that some things you just couldn't do anything about, poked at the lemon slice with her spoon.
"I got the blueprints!"
"Finally!"
They were carefully laid out in front of her. It wasn't just the blueprints for a time-travelling machine but also a teleporter, since they didn't need to go back in time to collect the latest stage version, but they did need to get to London quickly, and it was cheaper than paying for petrol.
"It's amazing what you can do with government funding," she said with a grin.
"The time machine is already finished. The teleporter should be ready by tomorrow."
"We don't have time to wait until tomorrow!"
"Well… we do have a backup plan."
"Which is?"
Three pieces of paper were handed over.
"Train tickets?"
"Well… it's cheaper than petrol… and more environmentally friendly."
"They're not even first-class!"
"We didn't exactly have much money left after the time-travelling machine and the teleporter."
The Organiser clenched her teeth irritably. Suddenly she felt the government didn't give their organisation ENOUGH funds, considering what a valuable and essential service they provided.
"Well… anyway, let's move on. To…"
"Excuse me, Miss," said the secretary. "You're being paged to a board meeting."
"No peace for the fanatical," she grumbled. "Okay… do we have any teams ready to be dispatched? As long as we've got one sent off I can tell them we're making progress."
"Umm… I believe a team is assembled and prepared to go after the Webber Movie version."
"The Gerry Butler version?"
"That's right."
At this point, everyone took a moment to sigh, tilt their heads and stare off into the distance with a faraway look in their eyes. One or two drooled. It was a perfectly choreographed moment, and you could tell they were used to doing it.
"Okay… moment of wistful longing over," the Organiser said, bringing them all back to reality. "Get that team equipped and sent off immediately. Are they capable?"
The secretary, who for a moment had thought she was off the hook, went rigid. "Erm… capable?"
"Will they get the job done?"
There was a nervous exchange of glances between the various sub-ordinates and the secretary swallowed anxiously. She took stock in the truth: "I'm… sure they'll do everything in their power to get their hands on him."
The Organiser thought about this. She knew her PHANS… "As long as he comes back in one piece and un-traumatised."
"I'll pass that on."
There was another moment of contemplation.
"It wouldn't be a great tragedy if he was shirtless."
They all nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
Hey guys! I hope you found it funny. I'm glad there was enough interest in this idea. So far it's just the Webber movie with a full team (you'll see what happens to them in the next chapter, hehe). I've still got 1 space on Current Stage Version, 1 left for the Susan Kay Version and 2 spaces for the Julian Sands Version. The rest still have all the spaces free.