[I DO NOT & NEVER WILL OWN FIREMAN SAM, JOSHUA JONES, OR PADDINGTON. THE THUGS ARE TO ME AND ME ALONE.]
CHAPTER 4: THE THUGS' HIDEOUT
MEANWHILE...
Everyone in Pontypandy was searching different parts of the forest, calling for Norman, and checking every place they thought Norman could be hiding.
Sam, Elvis, Penny, Radar, Sarah, and James were searching the charred campsite. They searched all the charred and knocked down tents, until Radar noticed something in one of the tents - a few crisp packets and a banana peel.
"Norman definitely was here." Fireman Sam said, picking up the litter. "This reminds me of when he ate everything from the whole picnic basket on the day he, Mandy, Helen, Dilys, Steele and Trevor went to the beach." He radioed Tom Thomas. "Any sign of Norman, yet, Tom?"
"Negative, Sam," Tom's voice went from the radio. "I'm not having any luck where I'm searching."
Tom was riding his helicopter to search near the lighthouse, and along the cliffs. "I'm gonna head back to the Mountain Rescue Centre to refuel." he said.
"Ok, thanks Tom." Sam said, then hung up.
Sarah & James ran up to him from their side of the campsite. "Any luck?" he asked his niece and nephew.
"No, Uncle Sam." Sarah & James said together sadly.
"I'm really worried about Norman, Uncle Sam." James said anxiously.
"You and me both, James." Sarah said sadly.
"So am I." Sam assured his niece & nephew. "Oh, he's most foolish to run away from home like this." He sighed. "But don't you two worry," he said, building confidence, "We're gonna find him before he gets into trouble... if he hasn't already."
Fireman Sam didn't know that Norman Price was in trouble - he was in Newtown, and he had been caught by 2 thugs who had found him in their motor home. The dark-skinned thug had grabbed Norman by his shirt, lifted him up, and pinned him against the wall of a building and had prepared his other fist close to Norman's face.
And before you ask, Yes, I'm aware that most thugs use sharp knives, but since this is a kids show, the knives are not there.
"All right, boy." the brown-skinned thug said sternly, "what were you doing in our van?"
"And this time, the truth." the stocky thug stated.
"I-I-I-I'm not sure! I didn't know about your motor home, I swear!" Norman Price FIBBED, panicked, and quite scared, knowing full well that the thug was holding him would potentially hurt him if he did anything.
Unfortunately, the brown-skinned thug was, sad to say, not a patient man. "This is your last warning!" the brown-skinned thug said to Norman, now totally mad beyond belief, like Dilys had been in chapter 1 of this story. "I'm gonna give you 30 seconds to tell us why you were trespassing in our van, and I'll punch you in the face!" snapped the thug.
"Uh, don't you mean 'or'?" the stocky thug asked.
The Brown-skinned thug sighed in exasperation, then said to Norman angrily, "Tell us why you were trespassing in our van, or I'll punch you in the face!"
"Well, which is it, then?" Norman Price asked. "That's a pretty crucial conjunction, you know."
For the brown-skinned thug, that was the straw that broke the camel's back.
"THAT'S IT!" the brown-skinned thug yelled at Norman, so loud it nearly made him go deaf. "YOU'RE GONNA BE POUNDED INTO DOG MEAT!"
Norman shut his eyes, and prepared for the worst. Thoughts of his final words were soon buzzing around in his head like angry bees.
The brown-skinned thug reared back his fist, preparing to pummel Norman senseless, when...
"STOP!" called a voice.
Both the thugs and Norman turned to look, and they almost immediately saw where and who the voice came from, a big bulky man with a thick ginger beard and scruffy ginger hair with a few grey streaks in it, blue eyes, and a light rose skin tone. Norman immediately guessed he was a thug, due to his clothes, which consisted of a dirty white shirt with a few holes in it, under a scuffed black leather waistcoat, dirt-stained brown pants, and scuffed brown boots. Norman also saw the tattoos of skulls and snakes on his big arms, and a few scars on his forearms and on his face, and a piercing on his right ear.
The big bulky thug walked up to the brown-skinned thug, glaring at him.
"Uhhh, hi, boss." the Brown-skinned thug said sheepishly. "Didn't see ya there. We caught this kid trespassing in our motor home, and-"
"Let him go." the big bulky thug said, speaking in a voice similar to Knuckles McGinty from Paddington 2.
The brown-skinned thug was surprised. "But boss, we-" he started.
"Let. Him. Go." the bulky thug said firmly.
"But, boss-" the brown-skinned thug began again.
"NOW." the big bulky thug said, a tinge of anger in his voice.
The brown-skinned thug stared defiantly, almost considering wanting to argue, but, with a sigh of defeat, reluctantly let Norman go.
Norman gasped for breath. He looked at the big bulky thug. "Thanks.. sir, I.." he began.
"So!" the big bulky thug said angrily, glaring at Norman, "You're the little kid who trespassed in my men's transport vehicle!"
"Again, I didn't even know it belonged to your thugs." Norman said. "I just ran away from home, and then when i heard voices, I ran into it to hide."
"You ran away from home?" the stocky thug asked, incredulous.
"Yes. I ran away from home." Norman Price said.
"Hmmmm..." the big bulky thug said, thinking to himself. "This kid could prove useful to us." He turned to Norman and said, "Why don't ya come with us to the hideout, and tell us all."
Of course, Norman Price should've known better than to talk to strangers, but he felt so intrigued that someone actually wanted to know, he said, "OK."
"Excellent." the big bulky thug said. "Come on!"
The thugs brought Norman to their hideout - an old factory in Newtown's industrial estate, not far from where the motor home/van was parked.
The big bulky thug opened a door on the side, and it opened with a loud creak. Norman and the thugs went inside.
Judging by the interior, Norman saw the factory was definitely old, and it seemed to be abandoned - the windows in the roof seemed all smashed and cracked, the factory walls looked grubby, and coated in oil stains, and the floor looked coated in dirt and dust.
And it was then Norman Price saw some old worn chairs and couches and a scuffed metal coffee table nearby. Then, he also saw 1 other man sitting on the farthest couch, reading a book.
That mann was, like the other 3 men before him, a thug. That figure had a light rose skin tone, and shaggy-looking orange hair, blue eyes, and a stubbly goatee. His clothes consisted of a blue top under a black biker vest, black leather biker trousers, and on his feet, he had dark pink socks.
Next to the couch he was sitting on, there was a pair of black biker boots.
"Jackson!" bellowed the big bulky thug, prompting the ginger haired man to raise his head from the book he was reading, and look up at the other thugs and Norman, entering near the couches.
"Boss, what is it?" The ginger haired thug, now known as Jackson, asked, a cockney accent in his voice.
"We got ourselves a new recruit!" said the big bulky thug.
"New recruit?" Jackson exclaimed. "Brill!"
The other thugs made themselves comfortable on the couches and chairs near the coffee table. Norman sat himself next to the brown-skinned thug. Jackson eyed Norman with amazement. "Boy, he's a young-un." he said.
Jackson then turned to the big bulky thug, sitting on a worn red posh arm chair. "Boss, How'd you get this kid here?" he asked, out of curiosity.
"We caught him trespassing in our getaway vehicle." the brown-skinned thug said.
"He took us by surprise." the stocky thug said.
Norman felt ominously quiet.
"I see." Jackson said, eying Norman. "What's your name, kid?" he asked.
"Umm, my name is Norman Stanley Price." said Norman. "Mostly it's just Norman Price. That's what my mam calls me, mostly when she's really upset with me."
"Norman, innit?" Jackson said. "Nice name, i guess."
"It is." Norman said. Then, he looked at the other 3 thugs. "Oh, I'm sorry,," he said to the other 3 thugs, "but I didn't catch your names."
"My name's Bert," the brown-skinned thug said, "But my nickname's 'Spanner'."
"Spanner?" Norman thought to himself. "That name sounds familiar."
"Exactly." the brown-skinned thug, now known as Spanner, said. "I'm the getaway driver/mechanic of the motor home/getaway van that you trespassed in."
"My name's Frank." the stocky thug sitting next to Spanner said. "but my nickname's Barge. I'm more of the short type of thug, but I'm also the distraction guy."
"Distraction guy?" Norman said, confused.
"Means he creates distractions to draw people's attention away from us." Jackson said.
"Exactly," said the stocky thug, now known as Barge. "Jackson, there," he added, motioning to Jackson, "is our lookout. He makes sure we're not followed."
"And I," said the big bulky thug, sitting on a leather red armchair, "am the chief and leader, Gruffston."
"I'm guessing you lead the thugs, don't you?" Norman asked the big bulky thug, now known as Gruffston.
"You guess correctly." Gruffston said. "Now," he said, leaning back in his chair, "tell us, Normie, why did you run away from home?"
So Norman Price explained everything to Gruffston and his gang, all about the events that lead to the Great Fire of Pontypandy, right up to when he got severely punished by Dilys.
"That is impressive." Spanner said, in agreement. "Who'd have thought a boy like you could cause such a huge fire?"
"You know," Gruffston said to Norman, "we could use someone like you in our gang. Whaddaya say?"
"Sure!" Norman said excitedly. "I'd love to join you."
"Ah, well, it's not that easy." Barge said to Norman.
"It's not?" Norman asked, confused.
"You see," Jackson stated, "We don't let any common troublemaker enter our gang. You wanna be in with the boss, you gotta EARN his respect."
"How do I do that?" Norman asked.
"We're gonna put you through a little test, to see if you can stand on your own two feet." Spanner said. "It's a real simple one." he added.
"That's right." Gruffston said to Norman. "Ya pass, you're in the gang."
"Easy." Norman boasted. "I could do it even whilst blindfolded!"
"That's what I like 'bout ya, Normie," Gruffston said. "Ya got spunk, I'll give ye that." He glanced at the darkening sky, seen from the broken windows. "Well," he said to Norman, "time to turn in for the night."
"Already?" Norman said, surprised.
"Yup." Gruffston said, "We gotta get a bright early start for your initiaton test tomorrow." He directed Norman to an old mattress, a pale worn tarpaulin, and some burlap sacks. "You sleep over there tonight."
"Ok." Norman said uneasily. He got onto the funny-looking bed, and lay down, resting his head on a pile of burlap sacks. Turning onto his side so he could see the couches and chairs, he saw Gruffston walking to where the other thugs were. "OK," he said to the other thugs," Time to turn in, everybody."
Norman watched as the thugs seemed to head off to bed as well - he watched Spanner kick off his boots, put his hands behind his head and rest his bare feet on the scuffed metal coffee table.
Jackson curled up on the couch he'd been sitting on since his introduction to this story, and Barge slumped onto that same couch, his head lying next to Jackson's pink stockinged feet.
He saw Gruffston come to a mattress like the one he was lying on, a distance away from him. He watched as Gruffston sat on the mattress, kicked off his boots, took off his waistcoat and lay on his back, and put his waistcoat over his chest like a blanket.
Almost immediately, the whole building echoes to Gruffston's loud snores.
Those snores sounded like a herd of pigs trying to play a recorder through it's nostril the wrong way round.
Norman dug his face into the burlap sack, and fell asleep amongst the snores.
a/n:
Brill chapter so far, eh?
BTW, there's a reference to Joshua Jones, a show which used old models similar to the classic series of Fireman Sam.
REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED AND STUFF.