Chapter 30: 898K The Target
It was one minute to 9 on the morning of the next day and Marcus was saying his goodbyes to Norman; who was planning to return home after his work was done.
"Norman, thanks again for helping us with this. I really appreciate it."
"No problem Marcus, anything for a die-hard Fatboy fan. Well, I betta be off; I've got a home and a remix album to get to."
As the four boys walked out of the hours to say their goodbyes as well, a red light dot appeared on Marcus' chest. Norman was the only one who saw it and noticed a sniper trooper hidden in a far hedge in the distance. As soon as the bullet was fired, Norman dived forward and blocked Marcus from the bullet's line of target. And thus, Norman paid the ultimate price and was therefore shot in the chest; with blood slightly spewing out upon contact.
"NORMAN!" Marcus shouted as Norman fell to the ground with his shirt dyed in blood.
"Oh my God, they killed Fatboy Slim!"
"You Bastards!"
Marcus knelt down by Norman and inspected the injury. Norman had got hit right where his heart was and was in a seriously bad condition. "Stay with me Norman. It's not that bad honest."
Norman's eyes squirmed as he tried as hard as he could to stay alive for whatever amount of time. "You're a good liar Marcus." He spoke with pain in his tone of voice. "Listen to me Marcus, the communications microphone for the radio……is…located…next to the multi-CD mixer in the station room…Use that…to get…your message across…I beg you……don't let…those gits……at……MI6……win…Do it…for…the…world………………" Norman's eyes closed and he stopped breathing.
"NORMAN! NOOOOOOOORMAAAAAAAAAN!" Marcus yelled. But after a few seconds, his head ducked slightly and he slowly stood back up; wiping away the few tears that were just below his eyes. The truth had hit him with such force; Fatboy Slim a.k.a. Norman Cook was dead. "Goodbye Norman, I'm sure Fatboy Slim is fucking in heaven now."
Half an hour later, Marcus was stood looking down at a small grave that he had just finished making for Norman's body to rest in. Next to it, Marcus and the four boys had made a little stick monument which had written in it 'R.I.P. Norman Cook (a.k.a. Fatboy Slim)'
"Hey, Marcus, he was a cool guy. He helped us in every way possible." Kyle spoke; trying to cheer Marcus up who was still looking down at the ground. Marcus turned round and walked back into the house. "Marcus, where are you going?"
"What does it look like? It's time I show you some things I've been keeping for this moment. You four, follow me this way."
And just as he did with Liam and Daniel previously, Marcus guided Stan, Kyle, Cartman & Kenny to his other basement room; the secret room that had in it every single possible item and piece of equipment given to him by MI6. But Marcus knew there was no time for explanations. He quickly showed the four boys around the room and introduced them to a host of advanced items, tools and pieces of equipment that MI6 had made and constructed. Although they all looked like everyday house-hold items and toys, they were all indeed advanced spy and combat items that Marcus had used in the past. Everything from a yo-yo that was actually a magnetic transportation hook to even a Nintendo DS that had been specially built to be a data super mini-computer. But the most interesting item that he gave to all four boys including himself, was an all-in-one camouflage clothing suit.
"No way, I'm not wearing this Marcus. I look like some kind of stupid ballet person or sumin." Cartman spoke; looking at his piece of clothing that he now held in his hands. Marcus had already got changed into his outfit suit.
"Oh really. Well, do any of the 'ballet' suits that you know do this?" He turned a dial on the suit's belt and suddenly without warning, his entire body except his face disappeared.
"Get the f--- out of here!" Kyle spoke; utterly shocked at what he was now seeing.
"Dude, how the hell did you do that!"
"Simple, this suit's been specially built with hundreds of mini micro-visionary cameras that are positioned on every corner, edge and angle of the outside of the suit. When I turn it on, the cameras connect to one another and absorb light and refract it in such a way that allows my physical body to disappear and camouflage into the surroundings, like so." He turned the suit back off. "So, yer' still think these suits are stupid?"
Fifteen minutes later, all five lads walked back out of the house; all with their hats on top of their heads. Marcus had specially made the boys' hats so that they too would also camouflage when needed. Equipped with every item, object and piece of equipment necessary and carrying to the two most important items of all; the two music albums, they began walking out onto the empty road; ready to make their way to the BBC Studios in the main part of London. But just as they did, two dozen MI6 troops appeared as if from nowhere and surrounded all five lads.
"Hands up boys! You're going nowhere!" One of the troopers shouted.
"BOYS, NOW!" Marcus shouted; at which all four boys turned their camo-suits on and disappeared. Marcus threw a few smoke canisters out onto the road to blind all of the troopers' view as he also turned his suit on and disappeared too.
The next few hours were filled with tests of courage, determination and concentration from all five lads as they successfully managed to infiltrate and enter the BBC Studios building using all the equipment that they had brought. The four boys had no idea what kind of things they were doing, yet they would always get assistance and help from Marcus; who was an expert at this kind of thing.
Four hours later, they finally made it into the BBC Radio 1 radio studio.
"Alright, we're in. Boys, set up the CDs in the multi-CD player over there, I'll try to tune in and set-up this communication chip into the mixers and microphone."
As soon as they had inserted both CDs into the player, Marcus turned on all the radio equipment and set-up everything that was necessary for this all to work. Tuning in the communications chip, he sat down on one of the seats and hoped that this plan would all work. It would only be a matter of time before all five of them would find out if their music had been good enough to listen to. As the minutes passed by, Marcus kept looking at the listening readings that were greatly increasing every passing minute. And just as the last track of the 2nd album was about to finish, he turned on the microphone and prepared himself to speak. He had never spoken out loud to an entire population before and he realised he only had one shot at saying what he had to say.
"People of the United Kingdom, please listen to what I have to say……" Marcus began.
"God, why couldn't I have been the one who got to speak into the microphone." Cartman spoke; showing deep disgust in the fact that it wasn't him who was in Marcus' place.
"Cartman shut the hell up." Kyle replied.
Marcus continued on. "………I need your help. MI6 and the British Government have all twisted and corrupted your minds into believing something that isn't true. They have all made you think they are doing good, when infact they are not. They are on the brink of brain-washing the entire world and we need your help in order to stop this from happening. If you have enjoyed listening to both these albums that have been playing for the past 2 and a half hours, then you will be able to purchase them a the address given to you at the end of this song, Please, we need your donations. If we can raise £25,000 by tonight at mid-night, then we five will be able to fly to New Britain and stop the Government's plan to brain-wash the entire world. Please……for the first time ever…the British need to help the world by themselves." Marcus turned off the microphone and stood back up.
"Do you think they'll help Marcus?" Stan asked
"Well there's only one way to find out. Come on; let's back to my place before anyone turns up."
An hour later back at Marcus' house, just as the five lads were walking down the residential street, they stopped in shock at what they saw in front of them.
"Holy s--- dude!"
A queue of people that stretched as far as the eye could see were all waiting to purchase their very own copy of the boys' albums. They had no idea these were many people were going to turn up this quickly but they were glad at the results.
"Man, that is a hell of a lot of people who need the toilet."
"They don't need the toilet fatass; they came here to give us money!"
"Yeh, I guess they must want to buy a copy of our albums or sumin. Well, I guess we have no choice. Kenny, Cartman, you two go downstairs into the basement and start making as many copies of both albums as possible. Me, Stan and Kyle will sell 'em all by the front door. I'll go and get a table and some chairs or sumin so we can set a stall outside.
Because the whole country had become unbrain-washed, the TV channels were now back on.
"This is BBC News 24; the news that always likes to get in a fight at football matches. Now the news with Tom Arto and Al Cerholic."
"Good evening, our top story this afternoon; hundreds of thousands of people across the country are gathering in London today to purchase the two brand new albums that have been heard on BBC Radio 1 earlier today. The artist of one of the albums; Marcus Kane-Bridge had indicated that by donating money to his cause, he and his four friends will be able to fly to the island known as New Britain and stop MI6 and the Government's plan to brain-wash the entire world. Yes, stupid it may sound, but who gives a toss when the Government are concerned."
"We can now go live to the Kane-Bridge residence just on the outskirts of London with our chief Business Correspondent Bob Inferapples, Bob."
"Thank you Al, I'm here now at Marcus Kane-Bridge's home where as you can see, he and two of his friends are well underway in selling copies of their own albums to members of the public. You can see behind me that the line of people stretches to nearly a mile long and is so far estimated at being over 600,000 people long. I'm joined now by two famous music celebrities; Ozzy Osbourne and Simon Cowell. First Ozzy, what do you think of this whole situation and what are your first impressions of both albums?"
"W-w-w-w-well I think they're fucking mental, y'know what I'm saying. Y-yer' got this dance music and it's not even fucking proper music. It's like fucking messed up and all the music just fucking repeats after each other. I-I-I-I-It's like it has no fucking m-meaning to it. Although I do fucking like it. And the music by that band, w-w-w-what they fucking called; Scoop or Poop or sumin, they fucking rock. Right I better get back in the queue, where's me fucking wife? SHARON?"
"And Simon, what are your thoughts on all this?"
"Well, firstly, I thought both albums WERE AWFUL! I would have preferred listening to rusty nails being pressed and scratched against a blackboard then listen to those albums. I would never take any of my time to listen to that rubbish in all my life. Their singing was awful and I don't like dance music; even though I've never listened to it before."
"Then why are you in this queue wanting to buy both albums then Mr. Cowell?"
"Errrrrr…ummmm…well, I want to sit down and laugh at it…yeh that's it…laugh at it and ummmmm…oh alright I admit it, IT'S OK music, I like it, yes."
Meanwhile at the front of the queue, Marcus, Stan & Kyle were serving customers who were buying both albums at a small charging fee of £19.98 in total.
"There you go, enjoy both albums. NEXT!" And surprise surprise, the next customer was someone who was one of the people who Marcus, Stan & Kyle hated the most. "Oh Jesus Christ, not you!" Kyle spoke; as he looked up to see James Blunt standing there.
"Hello there boys, hello there boys. Can I please buy your albums, HOO HOO!" James Blunt spoke in his usual high-pitched singing tone of voice.
"Why the hell are you here?"
"I came here to buy your albums coz' I need some ideas for my next album; Back To Bedlam Again…YEH YEH!"
"You need ideas for what to sing about? There's a first!"
"That is true…I saw my face in a crowded place…and I knew that I needed I…DEAS! What do you think about my singing? Do you like it…DO YOU LIKE IT! Which of my songs is your favourite…HOO HOO!"
"Well…I mean…you're not…you're not as good as say Chris Rea, your music's pretty crap anyway." Marcus spoke.
"……What?" James Blunt spoke in a quick shocked voice.
"I mean, your songs are not as good as say those by Gorillaz or The Kaiser Chiefs or Franz Ferdinand. All you do is just sing about yourself and sing in a very high-pitched and annoying voice. Yer' can't sing and yer' can't write songs. To put it in better terms, yer' pretty s---!"
"……I'm so nothing…I'm so nothing…nobody likes my music…BOO HOO! There's no wisemen or beautiful women to help me. And I thought I was the best at singing in the whole world! Goodbye my lover, I'm off to go shoot myself or something like that. BOO HOO!"
"Yeh, you go do that; do us all a favour." Marcus spoke; taking the money off Mr. Blunt and giving him both albums as he walked off crying in a singing style.
As the hours passed, the amount of money that the boys were raking in increased significantly. It was now near 11pm at night and the last customer had finished purchasing their copy of the album. Cartman & Kenny were flat out of energy after making so many copies of both albums. Stan and Kyle had just finished counting the last collection of money that had been stored in five separate boxes under the table.
"Holy s--- dude. We've hit the target; we've made just over 898,000 pound. WE DID IT!" The four boys started jumping up and down and celebrating. Marcus came walking back outside with a phone in his hand.
"Alright, that was the seller on the phone now. He said he'll meet us with our money at the end of Runway 2-G at Gatwick Airport. How much did we raise?"
"Over 898,000."
"Really? We did it! BRILLIANT. Alright, we haven't got much time; he said he'd be over there in about five minutes. Each of yer' grab one of those separate bags by the door and carry a separate box and follow me. I know a secret way into the airport runways round the back."
But before they could go, Marcus walked back into the house to collect his bag pack which was the biggest and the heaviest. After lifting it up and placing it over both shoulders, he picked out a key from his pocket and made his way over to a picture. Behind it was a safe. Opening the first safe door with the key and then unlocking the second safe door with the safe dial, he carefully picked out his most prized possession, his sword; a long shining blade of bright steel positioned on a handle decorated in blue and white painted decorations. He had been trained to use a sword whilst at MI6 in the past and he knew that he would need it whilst on this mission. Placing the sword in its carrier and strapping it around his body so that it was firmly positioned behind his back, he walked back out and picked up the last box of cash and money that was sitting next to the table. He locked the front door and placed his keys in his jean pockets.
With that done, Marcus and the others each carried a box chock full of coins and money notes that in total added up to just over £898,000; all carrying big bag packs on their shoulders.
An hour later at just after mid-night, the five lads managed to get to the desired runway and were greeted by the seller of the plane.
"Bloody hell, it's you." Marcus spoke; slightly shocked at who was there. "You're that guy who owns Virgin aren't yer'…ummmmm…Richard Branson isn't it?"
"Yeh, that's right." Richard Branson spoke with a huge cheesy teeth-showing smile on his face.
"Why the hell are you selling this thing?"
"Well since I own Virgin, I like y'know, own about a dozen planes and like so many other things, HA HA. Plus, I haven't got any more space on the islands that I own to put it anywhere. So, have you got the money!"
"Yep, it's all here, £898,000 and a bit more." The five lads each dropped the boxes by his feet. "So, is that it then? Can we have the keys to fly it please?"
"Oh, there are no keys, HA HA."
"What?"
"This plane's robotic; it doesn't need any ignition keys or anything like that. All you need to do is press the on button, type in the co-ordinates of where you want to go and it flies you to that place, just like that. That's what you get from Apple's band new iPlane."
"WHAT? Oh f---ing hell, I hate Apple. Why do they always have to put an 'i' in front of everything they make, it's bloody ridiculous. Oh alright, I'm sure we'll manage it from here. Thanks anyway."
"Thanks, alright, I'm off to SPEND SPEND SPEND!"
The four boys walked into the plane and sat down in their seats; just directly behind the main seat at the front where the control panel was. Fastening their seat belts, they took off their bag-packs and placed them at the back where there was a lot of storage space. They had a pretty good view of the outside; with wide windows either side allowing them to see out easily. With Stan and Kyle sitting next to each other and then Cartman & Kenny sitting next to each other on the row behind, Marcus was about to jump in as well, when suddenly out of nowhere someone really annoying appeared.
"Alright, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" It was none other than that annoying businessman Sir Alan Sugar.
"Ummmm, I'm boarding a plane, what does it look like I'm doing?"
"Don't talk cocky t'me kid. I saw your deal. That business deal was awful, poor, miscalculated and you made absolutely no profit on it. I don't like that, it's terrible and I bet if I did it, I would have probably made loads more money than you did. I don't like yer', YER' FIRED!"
Marcus knew who he was but was completely confused into why he just said what he had just said.
"Oh Jesus, it's him again." Stan spoke; opening the side window of the plane and looking out.
"Stan, you know this guy?"
"No, but he came up to us once and started bloody pissing us off."
"Yeh, I can see why. Look Alan…"
"SIR ALAN!"
"Sir Alan…alright, look we don't care about business, money and profit alright. You might but we don't. We're trying to save the bloody world here and all you're talking about is you and your big fat greedy self-licking arse. So why don't you go back to whatever diamond-covered mansion you live in and do whatever, coz' frankly, I couldn't care less."
"No, I don't like that. I don't like your attitude, I don't like your commitment, I don't like your angle and basically, you're a bad businessman. And all I can say is…YOU'RE FIRED."
Marcus had had enough of Sir Alan Sugar and his pointless crap, so he decided just because he annoyed him so much that Marcus kicked Sir Alan in the crotch. Falling to the floor in pain and agony, Sir Alan Sugar was rolling on the floor like a little kid. Marcus sat down on the front seat of the plane, closed all doors and turned the main system of the plane on.
"Hello, my name is iPlane. Where would you like to go today?" The plane's computerized voice spoke. Marcus looked at the map he had pulled out of his bagpack and he typed in the co-ordinates of the nearest landing strip of land on New Britain. "Co-ordinates confirmed. Fasten your seatbelts and put out any cigarettes you might be smoking. The plane will now take off and set itself into auto-pilot mode. Sit back, relax and enjoy your Apple iPlane flight, THANK YOU."
The plane started moving and jumped into the air a few times before picking up enough speed and finally lifting off the ground; flying up into the air and now on its way to New Britain.
"Alright, we're going to New Britain!" Kyle spoke in a very excited voice.
"Dude, this is so weak!" Cartman spoke in a less excited voice.
Meanwhile back on the runway, Sir Alan Sugar was left lying on the empty and quiet runway; still in pain after getting kicked in the crotch.
"Hello? Anybody there? Self-loving businessman down here! Help! Anybody!"