“Doggy,” said the boy. “Look at the doggy, Mommy.”
His mother ignored him.
“Doggy,” he said, pulling its tail.
“Get off of it,” snarled Bruce.
The child stared blankly at the dog.
“Talking doggy,” he said.
“That’s nice, dear,” said his mother. “Now come along.”
At The Peak, the meerkat-poodle followed everyone off the tram and headed for a spot with a good view of the brightly lit skyscrapers that towered over the city.
“Tonight, people all over the world will be watching this spectacular event,” said the voice through the loudspeaker. “And on the ground there are performances and celebrations for everyone to enjoy.”
The Peak was full of stalls selling strong-smelling food and glowing lanterns. In amongst them, street acts entertained the crowds.
“Hey, look, an acrobatic show. I love acrobats,” said Bruce, suddenly stopping.
With one of its back legs rooted to the spot, the meerkat-poodle was brought to a standstill.
“Bruce, we don’t have time for this,” said Jet.
“Just a couple of minutes,” said Bruce. “It looks great.”
Three Chinese men were performing amazing acrobatics. They jumped onto each other’s shoulders, lifted each other in the air, and performed triple somersaults effortlessly, causing the crowd to Ooh and Ahh. The smallest of the men then scrambled up a long pole with the speed and agility of a monkey.
“Come on, Bruce,” said Donnie. “We’re wasting time.”
“Yes, Bruce, there is a time and a place for watching street performances,” said Chuck. “And this is not it.”
“But it’s the big finish,” said Bruce.
The largest of the three men stood with his arms outstretched, holding the other two, before they both flipped into the air, turned a somersault and landed by his side.
“Thank you,” he said. “My name is Stan Ding and this is Wob Ling and Jum Ping.” The other two acrobats bowed. “Please give generously if you enjoyed the show.”
“Great, can we go now?” said Jet impatiently.
“Hold on, I want to get their autographs,” said Bruce.
Suddenly, the meerkat-poodle found itself being dragged along by its back leg.
“Bruce, stop,” said Donnie. “This isn’t going to work. One, people don’t just barge in asking for autographs. Two, we’re on a secret mission to save the world and don’t have time for this. And three, you’re a meerkat disguised as the back leg of a poodle; they won’t give you an autograph!”
“What was one again?” asked Bruce.
“Actually, I think Bruce’s determination has paid off,” said Chuck. “Look.”
Through the eyeholes in the disguise, the others watched the three acrobats huddle together in conversation with a tall man wearing a big hat and an evil smile.
“The Ringmaster,” said Donnie. “Bruce, I take it back. You’re a genius.”
“Thanks, Donnie,” replied Bruce. “Now can I get their autographs?”
“We must approach with caution,” said Chuck. “And listen in.”
The meerkat-poodle inched forward, taking care to avoid the Ringmaster’s loyal pet, Doris the Dancing Dog, who was sniffing a nearby lamppost.
“… Then you redirect it to my microphone,” the Ringmaster was saying, as they drew closer. “Do you think you can do that, my flexible friends?”
“For what you’re paying, it will be no problem,” said Stan Ding.
The others nodded.
“What if these rodents you warned us about turn up?” asked one of the acrobats.
“Two have already been disposed of, thanks to my clowns,” replied the Ringmaster. “You have permission to deal with the remaining pair as you see fit.”
“Rodents?” said Bruce.
“Disposed of?” Jet grinned.
“Quiet,” warned Chuck.
Doris looked up and eyed the poodle. Her nose twitched. She trotted over to it and stared into the poodle’s eyes. The four meerkats froze on the spot.
“Woof,” barked Doris.
“Woof,” responded Donnie.
Doris gave the poodle a suspicious sniff.
“Come on, Doris, this is no time for making friends,” said the Ringmaster. “Good luck, gentlemen. And remember, it must be done before the stroke of midnight, when everyone will be listening.”
Doris threw the poodle one last glance and trotted over to her master. The Ringmaster turned and headed down the hill, with Doris by his side.
“That was close,” whispered Jet. “I thought that mutt was going to ruin our cover.”
“Donnie’s disguise worked well,” said Chuck. “Now, we must turn our attention to the matter in hand.” He looked up at a nearby wooden pole. A wire ran across the top and into a nearby building. “I think I understand the Ringmaster’s plan now,” he said. “That wire must be for the speaker system we keep hearing. Those acrobats plan to climb this pole and redirect the system so the Ringmaster can take control of it. With that kind of amplification he could use the Roar of Victory to turn the whole city into his slaves in a second.”
“Clever,” said Jet.
“Donnie and Bruce, it’s up to you to stop the acrobats. Jet, you come with me. We’ll follow the Ringmaster.”
Behind a nearby bush, the four meerkats climbed out of the dog disguise and bowed to one another.
“Good luck. Stay true to the Way of the Scorpion,” said Chuck. “Come on, Jet.”
As Chuck and Jet set off after the Ringmaster, Donnie and Bruce turned their attention to the three acrobats.
“So how are we going to do this?” asked Donnie. “We need a cunning, well-thought-out plan to overcome these flexible fiends and prevent them from climbing the pole and redirecting the communication line.”
“What about this?” said Bruce. “Hey, acrobats, get ready for the fight of your lives!”
“Great,” said Donnie, slapping his head in disbelief. “Not quite what I had in mind.”
The acrobats turned around, but it took a while for them to notice who was speaking.
“Well, well, well. It’s the rodents,” said Stan Ding, glancing down.
“We’re not rodents,” said Bruce.
“That’s right,” said Donnie. “We’re a kind of mongoose.”
Donnie did a double spin and kicked Stan Ding in the shin with enough force to knock over an oak tree, but which hardly bothered the muscly acrobat at all. Jum Ping and Wob Ling jumped up onto Stan Ding’s shoulders and launched themselves at the meerkats.
“Bruce Force!” cried Bruce, kicking Jum Ping in the stomach.
Wob Ling tried to land a punch on Donnie but the meerkat dodged the attack, dived between his legs, and hit him in the back.
“Ladies and gentlemen, three minutes until midnight,” said the voice from the loudspeaker, as the battle raged.
* * *
As Bruce and Donnie fought the acrobats, Chuck and Jet followed the Ringmaster down the hill and into a shady park, where they found a high barbed-wire fence.
“How did they get through?” asked Jet.
“I don’t know, but this fence has been designed to keep us out. The Ringmaster will have planted it deep in the soil, making it impossible to burrow under.”
“What now?”
“We will perform the helicopter leap,” said Chuck.
Jet gaped at him. “You saw what happened when I tried that before. We’ll end up getting skewered!”
“Have faith, Jet. I will show you the correct way to execute the move. Now take my paws.”
The two meerkats bowed to each other, then crossed their arms, held paws, and began moving in a circle.
“Gradually increase your speed,” said Chuck. “Keep your feet evenly spaced. Breathe deeply. Focus on my eyes.”
They moved faster and faster until the black, red, and yellow of their ninja clothes blurred into orange.
; “On my count,” shouted Chuck. “One … two … three!”
They leaped in the air and, like a helicopter, glided high up and over the fence, landing safely on the other side.
“That is how we perform the helicopter leap,” said Chuck.
“Ninja-boom!” exclaimed Jet. “Now let’s go and find the Ringmaster.”
“There’s no need,” said a voice from the darkness. “The Ringmaster has already found you.”
Jet and Chuck sprang into attack positions. Chuck drew his sword and Jet grabbed his nunchucks from his holster.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” cried the Ringmaster, “for your fighting pleasure, I’d like to introduce Jet Flashfeet and Chuck Cobracrusher, and their opponents.… First up, they’ll have you splitting your sides and literally dying with laughter, the clowns, Sheffield and Grimsby!” The two clowns stepped out of the shadows.
“Thought we’d seen the last of you at the dock,” said Sheffield to Jet. “Not to worry, we’ll do it properly this time.”
“Next, Doris the Dancing Dog,” continued the Ringmaster. “Doris is trained in the ways of the tango, the foxtrot, the quickstep, and lethal combat.”
“Is this all you’ve got? Two men in makeup and a mangy mutt with some weedy dance moves?” sneered Jet.
Doris snarled.
“You want more?” replied the Ringmaster. “No problem! From the mountains of Austria, may I present seven siblings who will astonish you with their midair maneuvers … It’s the Family Von Trapeze.”
“Ein, zwei, drei, attack!” shouted a voice.
From the trees, seven trapeze artists swung down towards Jet and Chuck. Sheffield pulled out a frying pan and took a swipe at Chuck. Grimsby did the same with an oversized hammer. Meanwhile, Doris turned an elegant pirouette into a powerful spin-kick.
“Let’s go!” shouted Jet. He dodged Doris and sprang into the air, somersaulting over the clowns’ heads. Next, he ran between their legs and, with lightning speed, tied their shoelaces together, causing them to crash to the ground.
“Ninja-boom!” he cried.
Doris waltzed towards Chuck, barking madly, as three members of the Von Trapeze family swung at him from above.
Chuck ducked, kicked Doris in the jaw, and then used his sword to vault out of the way. The trapeze artists crashed into each other and tumbled to the floor, but there were more where they came from. And now the clowns were back on their feet.
“Time to wrap up this situation,” said the Ringmaster.
He cracked his whip, wrapping it tightly around Chuck, and pinning his sword to his side.
“Jet,” said Chuck. “Like a snake trying to play tennis, I could do with a hand here.”
“On my way,” called Jet, swinging his nunchucks above his head to keep the clowns at bay. Suddenly, something nipped his back leg. He reached down to bat it away, and was immediately pulled to the ground by Doris.
“Oh dear. I’d say you two are well and truly floored.” The Ringmaster handed his whip to Sheffield and pulled a microphone from his inside pocket. “These celebrations are being broadcast across the world. In ten seconds, millions of people around the globe will be under my power. And there’s nothing you vermin can do about it. Ah, listen, the countdown has commenced.”
“TEN…” said the voice through the loudspeaker. “NINE…”
“Grimsby, the leash, please.”
Grimsby dived into the bushes and emerged holding a leash. He tugged it sharply and out of the darkness walked a speckled-white tigress.
“EIGHT…” said the voice through the loudspeaker.
Back at The Peak, Donnie and Bruce were busy fighting Jum Ping and Stan Ding, as Wob Ling climbed up the pole towards the wire.
“SEVEN…”
“Bruce, it’s time Jum Ping went flying, and got Wob Ling toppling,” said Donnie.
“You betcha,” cried Bruce.
He darted under Stan Ding’s legs and grabbed Jum Ping’s right hand. Donnie took hold of his left. The two meerkats jumped up onto Stan Ding’s shoulders and flipped Jum Ping up over his head, propelling him into Wob Ling, and knocking him off the pole.
“SIX.”
Stan Ding laughed. “It’s too late. He’s already redirected the line.”
“FIVE.”
Donnie cocked his ear. The voice doing the countdown had changed. It was now the menacingly mirthful mutterings of the Ringmaster. Quickly, Donnie pulled out a device from his backpack, made from a spring, some string, a bottle of dish-washing soap, and a sink plunger, and took aim.
“FOUR.”
“Hey, that’s Grandmaster’s sink plunger! He’s been looking for that,” said Bruce.
“THREE.”
“No you don’t,” said Stan Ding, blocking his view.
“You’re standing in the way,” said Bruce. He jumped up and landed on Stan Ding’s toes with all his might. The acrobat cried out and crashed to the ground with a loud THUD, clearing the way for Donnie to fire.
The plunger flew up into the air, and looped over the wire.
“Bruce, pull!” shouted Donnie.
“TWO.”
Bruce grabbed the plunger and pulled, snapping the wire that ran along the top.
“ONE!”
“Happy New Year,” said Donnie. “Now, let’s tie up the loose ends.”
“My pleasure,” said Bruce. He yanked the wire free and whizzed around, binding the three disorientated acrobats to the pole.
“Good work,” said Donnie. “Let’s go and find the others.”
* * *
“Happy New Year, everyone. It’s the Year of the Tiger, I’m the Ringmaster and this…” he grinned with evil delight, “… is the Roar of Victory!”
Beside the Ringmaster, the Family Von Trapeze quickly pushed earplugs into their ears. The clowns had used their hair and Sheffield had covered Doris’s ears with his hands. But there was nothing to prevent Jet and Chuck from hearing the mighty roar that came from Ming’s throat when the Ringmaster cracked his whip across her back.
Jet and Chuck instantly stopped struggling.
Their eyes glazed over.
“Aha!” cried the Ringmaster. “Victory is— Hold on…” He tapped the microphone angrily. “I can’t hear myself through the speakers anymore. Something’s gone wrong. Who is responsible for this?”
No one said a word.
“Why is no one answering me?”
Still no one spoke.
“Unblock your ears, you fools,” he snapped.
“Eh?” said Sheffield.
“What was zat?” asked the eldest of the Family Von Trapeze.
“I said, UNBLOCK YOUR EARS!” yelled the Ringmaster, reaching over and yanking the hair out of Grimsby’s ears.
“There’s no need to shout,” said Grimsby.
“No doubt the other two meddling meerkats have disconnected the line,” said the Ringmaster, purple with rage. “Well, these two can fix it up again. Ninja meerkats, who do you obey?”
“We obey you,” they replied as one.
The Ringmaster laughed. “Music to my ears! Release them.”
The eldest Von Trapeze boy unwound the whip from around Chuck and handed it back to the Ringmaster, while Doris stepped off Jet.
Jet and Chuck stared on, unblinking.
“Not so fast, Ringmaster,” said Donnie, appearing from behind a tree with Bruce by his side.
“Ah, good, you’ve saved me the trouble of coming to find you. Our latest recruits will deal with you. Chuck Cobracrusher and Jet Flashfeet, destroy these meerkats.”
“As you wish,” replied Jet, raising his nunchucks.
“What are you doing, Jet?” said Bruce.
“They must have heard the Roar of Victory,” said Donnie. “They’re under the Ringmaster’s spell.”
“What? You mean we’ve got to fight our friends?” said Bruce.
“Looks that way,” said Donnie.
With glazed eyes, Jet swung his nunchucks at Bruce,
catching him off-guard and knocking him over.
The Ringmaster boomed with laughter at the sight of his sworn foes fighting each other. “Chuck, why are you not attacking?” he demanded.
Chuck turned to face him. “I am attacking.” He jumped up and swung his sword, slicing cleanly through the leash that held Ming. Free at last, the tiger turned and ran into the surrounding trees. The Ringmaster tried to catch her with his whip, but Chuck cut through that, too.
“What? How is this possible?”
“Ming belonged to my old master, Luhk Hu Stalking,” said Chuck. “I spent many hours training and meditating in order to learn how to become immune to her roar.”
“Ha, well I still have your best fighter. Jet, you can take them all on.”
“Yes, Master,” replied Jet, preparing to strike.
“Best fighter?” said Bruce, dodging another lunge from him. “Chuck, do I have permission to hit Jet now?”
“Hitting is not necessary,” said Chuck. “As Grandmaster One-Eye has told us, we have more powerful weapons at our disposal. Try a tickle.”
“A tickle?” said Bruce. “OK…”
Jet aimed another punch at him, but Bruce grabbed his paw and quickly tickled him under the arm. Jet suddenly went limp. He giggled and looked at Bruce like someone who had just woken up from a deep sleep.
“What is this?” demanded the Ringmaster.
“Master Stalking also taught me how to release those under the spell of the Roar of Victory,” said Chuck. “You see, laughter is a powerful weapon, Ringmaster. Something your clowns would know nothing about.”
“Eh, we’re funny,” said Sheffield.
“Aye, that sea joke I told earlier was pretty good,” said Grimsby.
“What happened? What’s going on?” asked Jet, rubbing his head. “And why are you holding my paw, Bruce?”
Bruce released him. “You were under the Roar of Victory spell, but I tickled you and you’re all right now. Right, it’s time to get some goons.”
The Clan of the Scorpion Page 3