Okay, I didn't do a To my reviewers thing for the last chapter, so I think I'll put it into here. Bare with me, yeah?

To my reviewers:

colourfulcrayons: Mwu-ha-ha-ha-ha! Now I have you in my grasp! Mwu-ha-ha-ha-ha! Sorry. All it means is you like this story too much. But keep reading it.

PeanutButterII: Umm... Yeah, you did review Chapter 2. twice... Anyway, do you get it now?

akino mikaera: Thank you very much! Tell the random guy that World'sDumbestNerd is coming to get him.

neutralgal: Oh dear. I've givena reader such a funny story that she's got a stomach ache. AH well, that's how good I am. Mwu-ha-ha-ha-ha!

PeanutButterII: Yeah, it might actually. Thank you for the e-mail, and rest assured. I was only kidding on the bio.

Chapter 5. The First Dangerous, Exciting, Life-Threatening, and Potentially World-Saving Mission (With Normal Length Paragraphs)

A few hours later, Brolly was called into Smoot's office. She had absolutely no idea what she was being called in for. At least, that's what she said. But she also added when I interviewed her that the incident had happened back in 2001, and that her memory had become quite 'tampered with'. You see, fairies age unbelievably fast mentally, and although some of them look not a day over 20, their mental age is around may be up to 130, depending on how the fairy used his or her brain. The less they used it, the more likely they got Alzheimer's disease.

When Brolly entered the room, Smoot seemed to be totally engrossed on what was happening on his computer screen, which was turned away from Brolly. He also seemed to be doing something under his desk.

As Brolly approached him, Smoot finally realized she was there, and immediately closed out what he had been looking at. His hands seemed to be covered with some white, sticky substance. He wiped his hands with a handkerchief, and turned to Brolly.

"It seems that we have a mission for you already, Brolly. A rogue mole seems to have escaped onto the surface. Yes, a mole. You've never gone against a mole, have you?" asked Smoot questioningly. Brolly nearly burst her britches from laughing. She was in mass hysterics. Wriggling on the floor, clutching her sides, she laughed and laughed while Smoot looked extremely embarrassed.

When Brolly was done (thirty minutes later), Smoot decided to continue. "This rogue mole has been terrorizing our tourists ever since he was born, by growing incredibly fast. He is part of the Groweth Fastieth Mole family, and they grow to their full extent in just ten hours. They live for around a week, then they age incredibly fast and they die within an hour. Nice life for them.

"Anyway, this one is halfway through its short and miserable life, which means it's at its largest and most powerful state. He's the size of a good, comfortable sofa. He's currently nibbling on a few chair legs in an abandoned furniture store. But once he's done, he'll keep moving in until he's found a human dwelling, then he'll probably move onto the tender flesh of the humans. We need you to stop him eating too much of the humans. Yes, we're going to let him eat a few bits of meat from the human, because we all hate them, yeah?" Smoot waited for an answer. After five minutes of waiting, he realized Brolly had fallen asleep in the middle of his well-prepared, excellent explanatory speech. He walked up to Brolly, and shoved her off her chair. Then, he tweaked her buttocks rather hard, making her jump. There we go, she's awake, thought Smoot. Maybe I should try this more often. A few moments later, considering Brolly's reaction, he decided against it.

She got up, rubbed her palms, and then started slapping Smoot with extraordinary speed and strength, shouting, "pervert!" as she slapped him. This one of the few gifts that female fairies were given: slapping. They were the most talented slappers on (and under) the surface of the Earth. Smoot had no chance. He was also a bit of a wimp, and he passed out after just twenty slaps.

After waking up and apologizing to Brolly, Smoot decided to end the meeting immediately and to the point.

"Go to Gate 66613. Meet Moley. Make him give all the gadgets and gizmos you need. Get your ass on the surface and catch that mole!" Then he kicked her out of his office. Literally.

Brolly walked towards Gate 66613 rubbing her bruised and pinched behind. She reached there without incident, except for a curious dwarf who asked too many questions concerning classified information about the ELF. His name was Belch Gassums, and Brolly gave him a Maximum Level Electrical Zap from her Thunderstick®. He ran away, screaming for a bucket of water for his burning and smoldering butt. That made Brolly feel a lot better.

Brolly pushed through the double doors, and approached a centaur wearing bright pink goggles and clothes to match, working on his latest invention. It looked like a hairdryer and a thermometer rolled into one. He didn't seem to notice her at all, so Brolly walked up behind him and kicked him hard with the tip of her boot. The centaur yelped, turned and absent-mindedly fired in mid-air, disintegrating the head of some random guy carrying a coffee cup.

He took off his goggles and looked at Brolly, who was once again in mass hysterics.

"Brolly!" exclaimed the centaur. "Look what you made me do! Disintegrate another random guy's head, although I don't really care whether he's dead or not! Do you know how much this costs me?" asked her questioningly. Brolly looked up, smiling knowingly.

"Yes, I do, actually. I used to handle all the sums and money that went on here, especially concerning you. In total so far, you've used 25 sabongs (which is around US1¢) for damage caused by your inventions. All the rest of the budget goes to the building of your inventions, experiments, staff, equipment, and entertainment. Not a lot, I can say." said Brolly mischievously. The centaur looked taken aback and extremely pissed off. Brolly stifled a snigger.

"So, Moley," continued Brolly light-heartedly. "I'm going against a mole. What have you got for me?" Moley immediately cheered up. When his inventions were actually going to be useful, he always cheered up.

"So you're going against a mole, eh? Darn annoying creatures. Well, first of all you can take the gun," said Moley, and handed Brolly the head-disintegrator. "The head was disintegrated because the setting was on maximum. If I had put it on minimum, he would have scratched it as if it were an itch. There are one hundred levels, so unless you have slow fingers, you'll be fine. Now, another thing…" Moley pushed some things aside on his desk. After shuffling around a few things, he finally found what he was looking for. It looked like a pair of Gucci sunglasses. On closer inspection, it said Gaci, another popular brand under the surface. Above ground, it would probably be handled as a fake of Gucci.

Moley looked at it with admiration. "One of my favourites, this one," said Moley. "It looks like a pair of normal sunglasses, but it holds a binocular, mobile phone, hidden camera, x-ray filter, laser filter, infra-red lens, night-vision lens, 6000 watt light bulb embedded in lens, and lens colour-changer. The control buttons are on this watch." He took out a C-Shock watch, with around ten buttons on each side of the face, resulting in forty buttons. "One for every function," said Moley. "Including the lens illuminator, which looks cool at parties."

Brolly put the sunglasses on, her watch on her wrist, and the gun in her holster. She instantly felt absolutely ridiculous, but ready to take on, according to Smoot, a terrifying creature of surmountable strength. "Let's get you up on the surface then." said Moley brightly.

The centaur led Brolly to a launch pad with a hole in the ground. Brolly climbed into the mass of wires and controls. When she was comfortable (at least, comfortable enough to survive), she gave the thumbs up, and Moley flipped a switch. A great big equilateral trapezium-shaped box on a hinge with a viewing porthole at the top swung down and clamped itself firmly onto the pit, closing Brolly in completely. The box slowly rose. It was the shape of a coffin, with claws on extendable arms sticking out of both sides. Moley had designed it that way, "So that when some jackass dies in there, all we have to do is pull the arms off and voila! We can bury him or her then and there!" At least two hundred people who rode the thing had died and been buried in it. The design was a success.

Inside, Brolly flicked a switch, and the jet boosters underneath the coffin flared to life, and the whole thing flew directly upwards towards a hole in the ceiling. In a flash, Brolly was through and travelling in a tunnel towards the surface, where a retarded, unnaturally fast-ageing mole was waiting… (Well, actually, that's impossible, because he didn't know she was coming for him.)

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