Clive Dove

This Is Excitement

Chapter Three

A/N; I think it goes without saying that I don't own any recognisable characters in this story.

In a dark room in one of the houses in London, a phone rang and was picked up quickly. The conversation was muted and answered with hardly any words. The old housekeeper creaked his way into the next door room, where a dark figure sat in a chair by the fire.

"It's for you, miss,"

The girl closed her book and reached backward for the phone, which was handed to her without any further remark.

"Yes?" she asked curtly, a cold voice.

The housekeeper shuffled awkwardly. The mistress only used that tone when she was extremely annoyed, and when she was annoyed, she was unpredictable.

"I see, interesting…. So that wrongdoer has made his move, has he…. Yes…. Yes…"

The girl was nodding slowly, thinking hard while answering the call. The housekeeper found himself growing increasingly nervous. Then the girl put down the phone.

"News, mistress?" The housekeeper inquired timidly, almost afraid of her answer.

His mistress nodded. "Yes. Bad news."

"I'm sorry to hear that,"

"Don't be." She replied coldly, "I still have his home and fortune. Without that he is nothing."

"Yes, miss," he replied, "Of course,"

The girl smiled coldly. "Let's see how far he gets," a crazed laugh echoed around the room. "Dove, I hope you'll play along…"

Clive bolted as fast as he could for the Clock Shop. It was a little far fetched, yes, but it was his only chance. His only, small chance.

The footsteps behind him grew louder and louder as his pursuers continued to try and catch him. After all of this planning, he wasn't giving up.

He reached the Clock Shop and burst in. Spring and Cogg stared at him with their mouths open as he ran to the back of the shop and pulled the lever. The police force pounded on the shop door as the lift burst into action. Clive let out a sigh of slight relief as he was lifted down into the earth. He wasn't completely sure of the state Future London would be in after the explosion, but it would have to do. It was big, and he knew the way around. He could evade the police force easily there.

He hoped.

The teen tapped his foot impatiently as the lift jolted to a stop. He walked slowly to the door and opened it.

Future London was in ruins.

It was almost a wasteland. Rubble, bricks and bodies lay everywhere. The stench of death and stale air hit him and he coughed, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve.

The fortress had definitely left it's mark on Future London, and not for the better.

As he picked his way over bricks, he wondered briefly what had happened to the others he had known here. How were Shipley, Bostro and Splinters?

He sincerely hoped they weren't dead. They could be his key to starting another rebellion.

Clive eventually decided to take a rest and perched on a piece of rubble. That was when and where he realised he had a problem. He had no food, and no means of getting any food.

Cursing under his breath, he shook his head and continued on. Past the destroyed Thames's arms, past the underwater research facility…. The old haunts… places of past times.

He had never actually been truly happy here, but it was the best his life had been. He had friends, a life, a place of his own and a goal. And he'd ruined it.

The teen found himself biting his lip to stop tears leaking out as he noticed a familiar figure. He stumbled over and turned the figure round.

Bostro.

The once faithful Family member was lying face down in the dirt, dead. Clive blinked a few times, dismay filling him. If this fate had befallen Bostro, there was no doubt Splinters and Shipley were dead too.

Up on the topside, the police force had retired, fuming, back to the station. They told every newspaper agent to print the news on the paper, and tell everyone to be on their highest guard until they caught this criminal. Which they would.

Bill Hawks had been sitting having tea with his wife when he heard the news that nearly made him spit out his chicken. Nearly, but not quite.

The Prime Minister called the whole police and army to him immediately, so he could work out a plan.

"We need him caught. That boy is an imminent threat to our national security," Boomed Bill, taking a sip of his tea.

The police warden stepped forward. "We are doing all we can. We have sent some of our force into the Future London and-"

"Well it's not good enough!" interrupted Bill. "We need something that'll work fast, and well. I don't care about the state the boy will be in, I just care for our nation,"

The officers and soldiers glanced at each other, alarmed. Bill was talking, and had a glint in his eye.

"We have to take action, and it has to be done now, otherwise we risk losing everything,"

"Yes," They chorused, curious to find out what their leader's idea was.

Bill Hawks continued his meeting, drawing out a map of the underground London.

"He will have taken the Clock Shop way,"

The Prime Minister pointed his baton to the way he meant. "This means we know exactly the area in which he should be,"

"Yes," They chorused again.

"This is the second time he's done something down here. We cannot take that risk again. We simply cannot."

The room held their breath. The prime minister's wife sat, listening. She had nearly fainted when she heard that ruffian, Clive Dove, was back on the streets of London, ready to deploy his fiendish schemes… even thinking about it made her feel dizzy.

The meeting progressed quickly, as nobody wanted to interrupt or correct their leader. No conclusion was made, and they all went home for the night.

The next morning, Bill called them all back. Overnight, he had been thinking hard about what was to happen.

"I've been thinking hard," he started, "And I believe I have finally come to a conclusion that is safe for London,"

Everybody listened carefully, waiting for their orders.

"Future London is deep down in the earth. Any shocks there will be absorbed by the earth itself, and will not affect London,"

Professor Layton, who had been called in also, was now uneasy. He didn't like where this was going. The Prime Minister laid his hands on the desk, a glint in his eye.

"We must blow up Future London," he whispered dramatically, "And flush that little rat out,"

A/N

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I did my best! (I still feel like I can't write Clive AT ALL ;-;)

Review if you want this continued!