>> Huddle with the team to agree on a plan
Falling onto the bonnet of the car brings your journey to an abrupt crescendo. With the engine now turned off, you lie in relative silence of a world without rushing air, a roaring engine, or the thumping of your own pulse in your ears. Slowly, the exertion of your chosen method of travel catches up with you, and you become aware of a burning and aching in your arms, back and legs. Thankfully, engine heat rising up from the bonnet is doing some work towards soothing those pains.
"You alright there, Luce? Have a good surf?" Ashley asks, leaning her head out of the driver's side window.
"Yup." you reply, playing it cool. "I started work on that sunroof we didn't talk about as well; we can finish it up once the case is done."
"Great! You really made the most of the journey time. Thank you for always being so considerate, my love."
With a new warmth filling you from the inside, you have a go at moving. Although it's uncomfortable and slightly awkward, you manage to get some lift and slide down the bonnet, onto the tarmac. Your towel pads your landing.
Ahead of you, looming like a monolith of concrete, hatred, doily-enabling, and improper varnishing disciple, probably, is Gertie and Gertie enterprises. It is the fortress of viral insipidity that has set you on a path of righteousness, the bastion of guttural bile that turned a vicar into a bird-confusing, thieves' tool owning marauder of rudeness. It will be your greatest triumph to take them down.
You have a lot of experience with triumphs, as evidenced by your long record of great successes, but your partners might need some encouragement. If they feel like they're involved in the decision making then they'll be able to keep up with your lightning fast changes of heart and rapid-fire reactionary choices.
"We should agree on a plan." you say, rising to your feet. "Let's huddle."
"Good idea. I'll get Drainpipe Von Staffen." agrees Ashley, threading your companion out of the window and round to your central operations room at the front of the car.
"Right, now I suspect you'll be wondering why I've gathered you here, today." you start, as all good meetings should.
"No. I know exactly why we're here." replies Ashley, always on the ball.
"Yes." answers Drainpipe, never one to contradict you.
"Good. This variety of perspectives bodes well, and we shouldn't change it." you assess, pleased at your diverse team composition. You point to the crater you left in the bonnet. "This enormous dent represents Gertie and Gertie Enterprises. These three scratches from someone's hedge can be us, and those holes from the chisel incident last year can be Ellen Gertie and her nefarious agents."
You can tell from the look on Ashley's face, and the look on Drainpipe's space where a face would be if it wasn't a drainpipe, that they're fully immersed in your theatre of the mind.
"We need to initiate a dual-pronged attack. The first prong will be you, Ashley. You'll enter the building first as Sir Chrimmington Colobario, a local greengrocer with a dark past and nothing to lose. You want to engage Gertie and Gertie's services as an intermediary between you and your customers, so that you don't have to touch the disgusting public at any point of manning your market stall. With the front desk distracted, Drainpipe and I will then enter using our patented Public Ainsley, Secret Drainpipe technique."
"You left your newspaper at home in your backpack, electing that you don't need any of the tools you carefully gathered over two long seasons of investigating." Ashley points out, throwing a spanner in the works of your otherwise perfect plan.
"Butts. You're right. What do we have instead..." you ponder. Drainpipe's disguise is still intact, on account of it never taking the thing off. But you are so obviously the famous and powerful towel-witch investigator Lucy that you'll require a real doozy of a costume. "I've got it!" you cry, rushing around to the boot of the car.
Ashley and Drainpipe watch in patient awe as you use your expert crafting skills in real time. By combining the claw hammer, nails, hard hat and fox taxidermy, you create a flawless hat-and-veil system, whereby the taxidermy hangs in front of your face, disguising you completely.
"Behold! Public Mrs Fox, Secret Drainpipe!" you cackle, rationally.
"But where did Lucy go? How did you get here, Mrs Fox?!" Ashley asks in some alarm. The risk of you being taken by one of Ellen Gertie's agents is, of course, weighing on her mind.
"It's still me really, Ash." you say, removing the hat. "But that proves how great this disguise is. We'll head in after you, and start taking the elevator up. Before it leaves we'll call you over 'for a chat' and then bundle you in too. We'll be in that office and rummaging through their stuff in no time."
"It's perfect. No notes." Ashley surmises, before slipping into character flawlessly. "Apples and pears, ten pounds via my associate!" she cries.
You crack your knuckles, pick up Mrs Fox's trademark chainsaw, and start walking behind your wife.
"You alright there, Luce? Have a good surf?" Ashley asks, leaning her head out of the driver's side window.
"Yup." you reply, playing it cool. "I started work on that sunroof we didn't talk about as well; we can finish it up once the case is done."
"Great! You really made the most of the journey time. Thank you for always being so considerate, my love."
With a new warmth filling you from the inside, you have a go at moving. Although it's uncomfortable and slightly awkward, you manage to get some lift and slide down the bonnet, onto the tarmac. Your towel pads your landing.
Ahead of you, looming like a monolith of concrete, hatred, doily-enabling, and improper varnishing disciple, probably, is Gertie and Gertie enterprises. It is the fortress of viral insipidity that has set you on a path of righteousness, the bastion of guttural bile that turned a vicar into a bird-confusing, thieves' tool owning marauder of rudeness. It will be your greatest triumph to take them down.
You have a lot of experience with triumphs, as evidenced by your long record of great successes, but your partners might need some encouragement. If they feel like they're involved in the decision making then they'll be able to keep up with your lightning fast changes of heart and rapid-fire reactionary choices.
"We should agree on a plan." you say, rising to your feet. "Let's huddle."
"Good idea. I'll get Drainpipe Von Staffen." agrees Ashley, threading your companion out of the window and round to your central operations room at the front of the car.
"Right, now I suspect you'll be wondering why I've gathered you here, today." you start, as all good meetings should.
"No. I know exactly why we're here." replies Ashley, always on the ball.
"Yes." answers Drainpipe, never one to contradict you.
"Good. This variety of perspectives bodes well, and we shouldn't change it." you assess, pleased at your diverse team composition. You point to the crater you left in the bonnet. "This enormous dent represents Gertie and Gertie Enterprises. These three scratches from someone's hedge can be us, and those holes from the chisel incident last year can be Ellen Gertie and her nefarious agents."
You can tell from the look on Ashley's face, and the look on Drainpipe's space where a face would be if it wasn't a drainpipe, that they're fully immersed in your theatre of the mind.
"We need to initiate a dual-pronged attack. The first prong will be you, Ashley. You'll enter the building first as Sir Chrimmington Colobario, a local greengrocer with a dark past and nothing to lose. You want to engage Gertie and Gertie's services as an intermediary between you and your customers, so that you don't have to touch the disgusting public at any point of manning your market stall. With the front desk distracted, Drainpipe and I will then enter using our patented Public Ainsley, Secret Drainpipe technique."
"You left your newspaper at home in your backpack, electing that you don't need any of the tools you carefully gathered over two long seasons of investigating." Ashley points out, throwing a spanner in the works of your otherwise perfect plan.
"Butts. You're right. What do we have instead..." you ponder. Drainpipe's disguise is still intact, on account of it never taking the thing off. But you are so obviously the famous and powerful towel-witch investigator Lucy that you'll require a real doozy of a costume. "I've got it!" you cry, rushing around to the boot of the car.
Ashley and Drainpipe watch in patient awe as you use your expert crafting skills in real time. By combining the claw hammer, nails, hard hat and fox taxidermy, you create a flawless hat-and-veil system, whereby the taxidermy hangs in front of your face, disguising you completely.
"Behold! Public Mrs Fox, Secret Drainpipe!" you cackle, rationally.
"But where did Lucy go? How did you get here, Mrs Fox?!" Ashley asks in some alarm. The risk of you being taken by one of Ellen Gertie's agents is, of course, weighing on her mind.
"It's still me really, Ash." you say, removing the hat. "But that proves how great this disguise is. We'll head in after you, and start taking the elevator up. Before it leaves we'll call you over 'for a chat' and then bundle you in too. We'll be in that office and rummaging through their stuff in no time."
"It's perfect. No notes." Ashley surmises, before slipping into character flawlessly. "Apples and pears, ten pounds via my associate!" she cries.
You crack your knuckles, pick up Mrs Fox's trademark chainsaw, and start walking behind your wife.
- Stick with the plan as discussed
- Improvise recklessly, but broadly follow plan
- Abandon plan, look for side entrance
- Start chainsaw, otherwise stick with plan