(A/N) Hello people of the fan-fictions! So, here's the dealio;
My BFF is writing this amazing fan-fiction, and to skip all the trouble of making another account for her, I just decided to post it on my account! :P So yeah, this her story. ;) It has a few OC's in it, just so ya know. And now, onto the story!
DISCLAIMER: Melody and her BFF have no rights to Tintin, only the characters they((BFF)) created. Oh, and this is based off of the movie, Adventures of Tintin, not the comic. There was just no other place to put this. Any-who, enjoy!
Clang... Clang... Whirrrrrrrrrrr!...
"That should do it, sir."
"Ah, yes. Thanks Eleanor."
So the conversation went between a very young mechanic and the assistant manager of the Chemical Works, which was near the coast of Northern California. The Chemical Works was a forest of gears and piping surrounded by blowing steam and gauges. This was where they sorted out chemicals and metals and shipped them to the needed factories and companies.
This was also where Eleanor, a mechanic barely over sixteen, worked with rusty gears and fixed broken gauges. Not that she minded. Come to think of it, there was hardly anything that Eleanor minded. She was a very simple girl, who never seemed to be very bothered by anything. Eleanor was extremely patient, and constantly cheerful. To add to this, Eleanor was also very quiet and shy. She wore wire-rimmed rectangular spectacles on her nose, and constantly adjusted them while she worked. She always wore simple sweaters, with the collar of her shirt usually peeking out from the neck, and normal jeans that were never too tight or baggy. Her hair, which was so dark brown in bad light it appeared black, was always neatly pinned out of her face and tied up in a loose pony-tail or braid.
The clang clang whirr noise that had sounded before Eleanor assured her boss that everything was well, was her adjusting some tight gears back into place and activating them turning. Eleanor was always so handy with a wrench. Though it was a talent no one ever noticed, it would prove to be very practical, and not just in mechanics.
"Aha, so there you are, you little rat."
"What are you going to do with me?" demanded the young red-headed journalist.
"Oh don't worry. We're going to have lots of fun with you."
"And what does that mean?"
"All in good time, young man. All in good time."
The young reporter, who was of course Tintin, had been on a vacation to America, during which he accidentally stumbled upon what he didn't know was a branch of a criminal league. A criminal league that liked the idea of torture.
What had happened was Tintin had seen a dark shadowy figure step out of a jewelry store while on an early night walk. This curious man took one look at Tintin and took off like a shot. In response to this odd behavior, Tintin followed him, and only intended to question him. The chase ended with Tintin going into a rather dark alley, and accidentally overhearing a shocking conversation of a successful jewelery store heist.
During which of course, Tintin's loyal dog Snowy growled and revealed his hiding spot. Tintin was immediately knocked out, only to awaken an hour later with his hands bound behind his back and a painful headache at the feet of whomever was in charge of this branch of criminals.
"What time exactly are we going to have this 'fun'?"
"Now now, little boy, don't be hasty. We must get our little toys in good condition before playtime, which reminds me, we have another little package to pick up..." The criminal lilted as he trailed off.
Tintin looked around. He appeared to be in some rickety old house, sitting on the floor. Tintin almost jumped when he felt the room tilt to one side, straighten out, then tip to the other side.
"Where exactly are we?"
"What does that matter? After we play with you, you will tell us all you know, then we will either eliminate you entirely or use you for something."
"Use me?"
"You appear a hefty sort. You never know."
"I'd sooner be shot."
"Oh? No, we plan to do something worse if you resist," the man's voice dropped to a snake-like hiss. "Something deliciously worse."
"And what will that be?"
"Like I said, all in good time."
"I'm simply curious, answer me; where am I?"
"My yacht."
"That explains the rocking. Wait a moment.. where is my dog?"
"The other room. Don't worry. I'm sure the ropes aren't too tight."
Tintin narrowed his eyes in wrath.
A man from the criminal league had just entered the chemical works. He was dressed in a gray suit and hat and was smoking a cigarette through his perfect clenched teeth. He had many scars to behold, and he was so tickled with what he was going to do he strained to keep from chuckling.
Eleanor had just finished her work for the day and was making her way down a passageway, foggy with steam. In one hand she held a toolbox and she adjusted her glasses with the other.
She paused as she saw the criminal's silhouette through the fog, walking briskly her direction. It was definitely unusual, especially since no one but those who worked here came to the Works, and Eleanor knew everyone who worked here, and no one dressed like that.
Eleanor adjusted her glasses again nervously and set down the toolbox. She carefully took out a wrench and pretended to be inspecting some nearby gears, hoping that the stranger would pass her by. She didn't know why or what about this man was making her so nervous. She just knew she didn't want to bump into whomever this person was.
"Hey, Sister!"
A chill ran down Eleanor's spine and she slowly turned her head towards the well-dressed but rough-skinned stranger.
"Are you talking to me, sir?" she asked quietly.
"Yea. What are you doin'?" he asked gruffly.
"I-I'm just inspecting these gears. Making sure they work properly."
"An' why d'you suddenly have the notion to as soon as I walk up?" he quizzed suspiciously.
"I just realized these were the ones I needed to inspect, sir."
"Sure. What's with the wrench? Planning to crack someone's head?"
"N-Not at all, sir! I... I am a mechanic you know. A wrench is an essential tool for my work." Why did this man assume she was going to attack?
"You a mechanic you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mmm..." he seemed to be considering something.
"Hey, look at me, girl." he commanded.
Eleanor never knew why she obeyed. The man was frightening her, so maybe she was scared into submission. As soon as she did, however, the man covered her mouth and nose with an odd smelling handkerchief. Eleanor immediately gasped and screeched, causing her to breathe in the strange smell in the hanky, and her world to go dark.
Eleanor's vision slowly game back into focus. Her glasses were not on the tip of her nose, but they were farther from her eyes than she liked, and reached up to adjust them, only to find her hands bound.
"Nattie?.. Amber? Jean?" she called out her friends' name, wondering if they were anywhere near her.
"Eh, she's awake." mumbled a guard from the other side of the room. He suddenly got up and walked out.
Somehow Eleanor adjusted her glasses with her shoulder and scanned the room. Her eyes fell on boy, about her age, with red hair that stuck up in the front. Her eyes widened as she realized he was a prisoner too.
"Hello?" Eleanor said quietly.
Tintin met her gaze.
"Do you know what-" Eleanor got cut short when the criminal leader walked through the door.
"Oh, hello, miss! So good to see you awake," he said fondly. Tintin noticed this girl in front of him shivered.
"What.. what are you.." she asked.
"Oh, don't worry at all, miss. We aren't going to hurt you."
Tintin blinked. They weren't?
"Then what-" she started.
"We simply have a job we want you to do for us."
"A job?"
"A job."
Eleanor blinked in confusion. They only wanted her for a job? What could she do that these goons couldn't? What would provoke them to kidnap her?
"Reginald, be a good man and untie this girl. Those ropes are sure to be chaffing her wrists."
Eleanor noticed this man never apologized for the ropes being there in the first place as another man cut them loose. She rose to her feet and adjusted her glasses.
"What sort of job is this?" she asked softly. The man in front of her grinned a grin of rotten teeth. Eleanor shivered.
"You are a mechanic, yes?" he said.
"Yes.."
Tintin rose his eyebrows a little. Young mechanic.
"Well I'm sure this job for you will be no trouble. Please follow me," the man said, starting towards the door.
The man that cut Eleanor loose followed close behind, leaving her no choice but to follow. He turned towards Tintin. "Don't go away. We will be back in a while," he said wryly.
The three of them walked into the other room, where Eleanor saw a white dog with three ropes around his neck, each pulling him a different direction and some sort of muzzle squeezing the poor dog's head. The dog was whimpering and trying to lay in a comfortable position, which was impossible because of the ropes.
"Pardon the mutt. He's been a rather disobedient hound lately."
"Enough to where he can't move?" Eleanor ventured, adjusting her glasses.
The man twitched, but didn't answer as he walked over to a strange machine a few feet away from the dog.
The machine was about the size of a small sleeping mat with gears all out of order and rusty shackles at the head and foot of it.
"Now, miss, we wish you to simply repair this here machine."
"Repair it? That's all?"
"That's it."
"What was it supposed to do?"
"That's the fascinating thing about it," the man grinned as Eleanor looked slightly less afraid and a little more interested.
"Its called 'The Press'. It was made in a curious fashion a few decades ago. It's purpose is to shackle some victim to it, and stretch his limbs and make some sort of sensation on his back to where it creates the illusion of more and more weight being added to the victim's chest. Creating the feeling of being crushed slowly to death."
Eleanor looked horrified.
"Don't worry. It doesn't kill anything. It just creates unbelievable pain." The man said this as if it pleased him more than anything.
"It... Its a torture device?" Eleanor said, shocked.
"Quite so."
"You want me to fix this?"
"You don't have a choice, young lady."
Eleanor slowly turned to see Reginald holding a pistol. She froze.
"Either you repair this machine, or I'll just have to find someone else with mechanical skills."
Eleanor was afraid she was going to faint. Either she repaired this machine.. this tormentor, or get shot without hesitation. Unless...
Eleanor turned back to her main captor. He was grinning his disgusting grin again, causing her to shake uncontrollably.
"I'll take that as an agreement. Done then. There is a box of tools right by it. Have fun. Oh, and feel free to be creative. Add something to abuse the victim even more," and with that, the man and Reginald entered the next room. Leaving Eleanor to this horrific box of gears.
Eleanor began to work. All the time telling herself that she was insane and shouldn't be doing this. She adjusted her glasses as the little white dog next to her whined. She looked at him.
"I'm sorry. Neither of us should be here."
The dog just looked at her in agreement.
Eleanor sighed. She felt just as trapped as that dog, if not more. She adjusted her glasses again. The dog looked at her hopefully.
"Listen, if I untie you, you won't run away until I tell you, right?"
The dog wagged his tail.
"Good. They mustn't know that I let you go. Hold still." Eleanor gently loosened the knots on the ropes until they were loose enough that if the dog shook his head they would fall off. Then she turned back to the machine.
The dog whined again. "I'm sorry, boy. The muzzle has to stay on. If I can, I'll remove it later." The dog whined again but seemed to understand her.
Eleanor adjusted her glasses as the last gear went into place. She hoped she knew what she was doing. She stood back, one hand on her hip and the other clutching a rather heavy wrench. The door behind her creaked as her main captor and Reginald walked in.
"Ah! All done I see."
Eleanor nodded, speechless at what she did. The man clapped his hands. "Excellent, time for a test run!"
Eleanor shuddered. Was it she herself that was supposed to be the machine's first victim? The man suddenly nodded to Reginald, who went back into the other room. He returned after a moment dragging the young red-headed man she had seen earlier by one arm. He was the first victim?
"Snowy!" he yelled when he saw the dog.
The dog responded with a muffled bark. "Let him go!" the young man demanded.
The man's face twisted into an evil rotten grin that once again sent chills down Eleanor's spine.
"My boy," he started. "That dog will suffer immense pain if you do not cooperate with us. Simply lay down on that machine and let Reginald shackle your wrists and ankles."
The young man hesitated, then stopped struggling as Reginald cut his hands loose. The man chuckled.
"I knew you'd see it our way," he said as Reginald cuffed his hands and feet with the machine's shackles.
Eleanor gripped the wrench in fear. She hoped nothing would go wrong...
Reginald backed up a short distance and seized Eleanor by the arm that didn't hold the wrench. The man backed up until he was side by side with Eleanor. She shivered at his presence and adjusted her glasses.
"Start the machine girl," the man ordered. Eleanor took a step forward and twisted a knob on the side of the machine and stepped back. Reginald tightened his grip on her, warning her not to try anything.
Tintin wondered what would happen to him. What did this machine do? The machine made a strange whizzing noise. "What you are hearing is the machine gearing up for your ultimate pain," explained the man.
Tintin glared at him. What a sick creature. He passed his glare to Reginald. Then his eyes fell on the other young woman by them. Tintin had already supposed that her job was to repair the machine. He blinked in surprise as he noticed she wasn't looking at him fearfully or sympathetically. She was staring at him with such focused expectancy she didn't notice the puzzled look he was giving her.
Suddenly, in a series of movements so quick no one could react, the whizzing stopped. Then the shackles that held Tintin in place sprung open, and some metallic force pushed him to his feet. Then, all at once, the many gears inside the machine began to be launched, one by one, at Reginald, Eleanor, and the main captor.
Eleanor, who had of course been expecting this malfunction of the machine, ducked as a heavy gear flew over her head and another crashed into Reginald between his eyes, causing him to release Eleanor and fall backwards. While in midair, Eleanor struck his head with the wrench she was holding.
Then she turned to her main captor and whacked his forehead in a sweeping motion, then took off.
Though her blow knocked out Reginald, all her blow to her main captor did was make a very painful slit in the skin of his forehead. He was just about to retaliate when another gear flew at him and struck his ear.
"Boys! STOP HER!" the man hollered as he hit the ground. A large group of men filed into the room, then into the other room where Eleanor had fled. Snowy, suspecting this was the moment Eleanor had planned, shook of the ropes and ran after her.
Tintin, though slightly stunned, was suddenly right behind the sprinting young woman who had apparently saved his life, with about seven criminals at their heels. Almost immediately the three of them, girl, boy, and dog, had run up a flight of stairs and found themselves on the deck of the yacht.
Spurred by her terror, the girl dove off the edge and began swimming for the nearby docks. Tintin only stared at what she had done, then turned to see seven criminals reaching out to grab him.
He immediately ran backwards, off the edge of the boat, followed by the ever loyal dog of his.
After swimming about twenty yards, Tintin found himself next to this girl with water spotted glasses on the dock, holding himself up by his forearms on the edge before grabbing Snowy and lifting him to lay on the dock to catch his breath. All of them coughed and panted. Eleanor realized with slight surprise that in all the excitement, she was still clutching the wrench.
Tintin was looking down at the wood of the dock.
"That... that was..." he started, trying to describe what had happened to the both of him. He looked to where this strange girl was, only to find a puddle of water and a wet wrench. He blinked and looked up the dock to find a trail of puddles left by the girl who had left. Tintin finally lifted himself up onto the dock and found himself wanting to follow this trail. After a few moment's consideration, he decided not to. Whomever that girl was, she had been through a lot for one night.
He squeezed some water out of his trench coat before bending down, picking up the wrench, and shoving it into his pocket. Just because he wasn't going to follow this girl tonight, didn't mean that he wasn't determined to find her again. Snowy whined.
"Sorry, boy," Tintin said as he removed the muzzle.