The Secret Order of Doom: Part Fifteen

Ms. Madison woke slowly and painfully, her every joint aching. She knew that she had been moved. But this didn't exactly surprise the blonde secretary. There hadn't been any reason other than kidnap for feeding the girls knock-out juice in their drinks. After all, it wasn't like they had been threatening anyone, nor had they been holding anyone up.

Neither was she surprised to note that someone had undressed her. Villains tend to do that, even monkish ones (but that was obvious, as was the nightgown the girl had been dressed in). Sitting up, Ms. Madison felt even more wretched than ever. The fact that she'd got wallopped the night before probably didn't help, either. After all, Andrea, was sitting up and taking notice. She wore her underclothes, rather than a filmy nightie, and Ms. Madison felt even harsher towards the Order of Cain.

"Hello there, sleepy-head," Andrea laughed happily. "And how are you?"

"Probably concussed," Ms. Madison scowled. "You?"

"Never better," the red-head laughed. "I see they bothered to get you ready of bed."

"I'm a blonde," the secretary sighed. "That tends to make the villains dress me in skimpy clothes and leer at me, if not actually threaten to make me their wife."

"That was Dale Arden in Flash Gordon," Andrea observed brightly. "I've never read about anyone wanting to marry you, except that boyfriend of yours."

"Okay, so I exaggerated," Ms. Madison shrugged. "Do I really look like I care?"

"No," Andrea confessed, getting to her feet. "Where do you think we are, Lynette?"

"In a cell," Ms. Madison smiled impishly. "But I think we're somewhere close to the centre of the Cainite complex (hidden, of course)." And, in so doing, Ms. Madison proved that it is possible to speak in brackets.


"Swell," Andrea crossed to a window, drawing aside a curtain. She saw a very long drop towards the ground, as the brick walls of the building with the cell sloped outwards.

"We're in a windmill!" Andrea announced.

"Great," Ms. Madison sighed. "I don't suppose we have sails to climb out onto?"

"Nope," the redhead confessed. "But..."

Before she could say anything further, the door of the cell opened, admitting seven men in monkish robes. The girls started, seeing that the men were armed.

"You have come far," one of the men spoke. "But you will go no further." He cocked the pistol. The girls drew back.

The explosion of the gun in the confined space was deafening.