Would there have been more? We may never know because just then there came the unmistakable sound of a 'Torn Curtain' and 'The Birds' filled the room.

*******

Seagulls swooped everywhere, divebombing the cast. Maximus quickly swung his rust-colored cape over Joimus even as he slashed at a particularly large gull intent on grabbing a tendril of her long, pale hair. The gull changed course, avoiding the General's blade, and dove toward Jack, attracted by the bright buttons on his wool jacket.

There were long moments of sheer mayhem as Zack jumped a gull, coming away with his beard bristling white feathers, as Franki desperately sheltered her one remaining bluebird, and the sound of Sue's whip cracking filled the room. Lachlan held his arms out, airplane-like, and spouting poetry spun like a top, sending seagulls thwocking hither and yon.

Ando, who happened to be smack dab in the middle of yon, was not pleased. Hando took off his suspenders and, swinging them like a bolo, entangled the legs of a greyish, ugly gull. Ando, enraptured by the possibilities of loosened TWP's, forgot her airman ire and centered her attention on white denim.

Phyllis flung volumes 3, 7, 12, and 18...nailing several of the invading fowl. Jewelie just stood there, clutching her thesaurus, not at all sure she was ready for seagullicide. Joimus peeped out from beneath the cape to assure her that, in epis, nothing ever really dies...well, except possibly the main characters. .but birds are always perfectly OK.

ZAP! One of Beck's horseshoes zipped past Jewelie's head, bringing down a fat gull *splat* onto Anna Shadow's platter, where it lay, blinking its eyes. "Awwww! It's cute!" Anna said.

                                    
"CUTE?" Andy replied, flipping up its leg feathers to reveal a grenade. He grabbed the platter and flung it like an oval frisbee through the torn curtain.

Jewelie gulped, clutching her thesaurus even more tightly. Her eyes were pulled down, though, by the feel of feathers brushing past her ankle. A gull, cartridge belts crossed about its torso, a knife clenched in its beak was creeping stealthily toward Biebe. He was totally unaware of the bird, occupied as he was swatting at 3 pecking gulls with his bear fur hat. She looked from side to side. No one else was aware of the creeping gull either. It was all up to her. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut and holding her breath, she dropped the thesaurus. How very contagious epiviolence was!

Ando, disappointed by the slowness of the sinking of the white denim, commented, "Yeah, we make up in violence what we lack in sex."

Joimus peeped once again from under the cape, shaking her forefinger at Ando. "Subtlety, Ando. Subtlety is the name of the game."

Ando frowned at the Pittsburgher. "I can't even SPELL that," she snarled, quickly turning her gaze back to the young Melbourner's lower regions.

Joimus sighed. Former Welshwomen. You just couldn't do a thing with them!

Colin was in trouble. Big trouble. Eighteen gulls had ganged up on him and he lay flat on his back, his sideburns twisted three times around his head. Eryn approached, the ends of her length of wire wrapped around both fists, the large bead gleaming in the center of the strand. Amanda noticed and commented to Wanda. "Gee, when did Eryn start making TOFOG garrottes?"

Wanda explained how Eryn had recently moved into larger quarters and had considerably widened her jewelry selections. "Ah," Amanda replied. "That explains it then."

The gull holding a sideburn end in its mouth looked up at Eryn's approach, noted the steely glare of determination in her eyes, shrieked, and flapped quickly off.

Countess Patricia was expertly spitting tees, pinning seagulls to the wall by their wing feathers. Buggie scooped up stunned gulls from the floor, piling them into her baskets and dumping them down the dumb waiter. Suddenly an ear- splitting, though brief, siren blast tore through the room and every gull who was not incapacitated flew rapidly back through the torn curtain.

Maximus stood amid a pile of white feathers, still turning guardedly from side to side. A single feather floated down, coming to rest on his left shoulder. Joimus leaned close, blowing it off, then handed him back the glorious cape. He cupped her chin in one large hand, studying her carefully to assure himself she was unharmed.
 

"Oh, come ON!" Ando moaned. "She was under the cape the whole time! How could she have been harmed?"

Joimus unobtrusively as possible stomped on the former Welshwoman's instep. "Let him cup my chin if he wants!" she whispered out one side of her mouth.

"Where did he go??" Franki wailed.

Taking a dialogue line straight from Gladiator, Maximus asked,

"Who?"

"NASH!" Franki cried. "Remember how he and the throne fell through the floor?" In the course of the wild battle they had just experienced, the cast had nearly forgotten Nash's untoward and sudden descent.

"My gosh!" exclaimed Wanda. "There really IS a secret underground in this building!" The cast exchanged meaningful glances. Nash right? The repercussions of this revelation were truly mind boggling. It put Parcher in a whole new light.

Jack frowned worriedly. "What does this mean for Stephen...and Charles?" Having been absent from the plot for several epis, now seemed the perfect time for a fortuitous return of some sort.

Stephen entered the room in his shipboard outfit, complete with strange robe and hat in hand. Jack narrowed his seagreen eyes as he noticed the doctor's pale blondish hair. "Been hitting the peroxide, have we, Doctor?" the Captain asked.

Stephen reached one lanky arm up, ruffling his own hair with his long fingers. His lips curved into a smile. "Jack, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," he said quietly.

Ando rolled her eyes. "What now?" she snorted.

Stephen lowered his eyes a moment, then raised them to gaze steadily into Jack's. Reaching into the pocket of his robe, Stephen held out a 6 inch long irregular piece of wood, never once taking his eyes off his Captain's. Jack looked down at it and, apprehension making his voice sharp, snapped, "What is that? Some sort of phasmid?"

"No, Jack," Stephen said softly, almost regretfully, "it's a desk splinter."

Juditha sucked in her breath with a sudden gasp. "Whose is it?" Jack asked warily.

"It's mine," Stephen responded, keeping his voice amazingly level.

"And that means....?" Jack continued, cocking his head a bit to one side while raising his eyebrows.

"I'LL tell you what it means!" Hando bellowed, stepping forward despite the fact his TWP's had sunk to knee-level. "It means your good Doctor has a graduate degree from Princeton!"

Jack staggered slightly, struggling to maintain his composure. "Is this...true?" he asked, his voice gone all hoarse.

Stephen nodded mutely. The muscles around Jack's mouth began to work. He felt suddenly ill. "What...what of the Surprise?" he whispered almost inaudibly.

"Is this not surprise enough?" Berti added wisely.

Joimus poked her in the back. "Shhhh!" she shushed. "Don't interrupt the Captain's epiangst!"

Ando, as usual, totally ignored Joimus' directive and blurted, "All right! All right! Explain this business right now!"

Juditha, supporting Jack's elbow, asked tremulously, "Are... are...you...Charles?"

Stephen smiled at her, and dropping his hat and robe to the floor, replied, "I have been." He unbuttoned his vest, his shirt, dropping them too. "Were the epis not so very PG I would drop my breeches for...you see... I am...actually....Chaucer."

"WHAT?" bellowed Ando.

"Yes, it's how Joimus first became aware of me...there on that pathway...completely without attire."

Joimus narrowed her eyes, thinking back to the last movie she had seen him in on a rented DVD. "You," she said, "you walked out into a London street and were blown to smithereens by a German rocket." Everyone turned to look at her as she continued. "This train of reasoning will not suit our purposes at all. Neither naked poets nor blown-up Londoners have anything to do with matters Russellish. You simply MUST be either Charles or Stephen. That's all there is to it! I insist!"

Berti turned to look back at Chaucer and shrugged. "She's got the keyboard."

Chaucer smiled in understanding. "Who has most need of me?" he asked.

"Well," Franki said, "considering that Nash just fell into some secret chamber below this floor, I'd say he'd like to have Charles in the storyline."

Chaucer faced the Captain, his eyes alone asking his question. "Yes," Jack agreed. "Be Charles for now."

"But don't forget your cello," he added silently.

As the cast began to mill around, looking for a way to the underground, Ando quietly unwound Hando's suspenders from around the seagull legs and tucked them stealthily into her backpack.

Sue, noticing the wide grin spreading over Ando's face, walked up, asking, "And why are YOU so happy, pray tell?"

Ando cleared her throat, her eyes darting back and forth for a brief moment, then answered, "Ummm...ummm...the... ummm... successful completion of a...a...project...always brings me a certain degree of... of...satisfaction." She shrugged, made a little Welsh grimace, then went in search of Hando.

Little did she reckon on how very attractive her fellow Welshperson found little Welsh grimaces, and had not, therefore, counted on Arthur's following so closely upon her heels. All she wanted at that moment was to locate a long staircase and come up with some pretext to encourage Hando to descend.

When Arthur sighed and ran his fingertips down the back of her arm, she whirled on him, her eyes gone all squarish with irritation.

He jerked his hand back as his Adam's apple bobbed with a large gulp. Where, he wondered, had the happy days gone...those days on the beaches of Wales when Ando would chase him merrily over the dunes with her branding iron? Unbidden, his palm slipped to his rear which still bore the large X where she had hot-crossed his buns. Ando, seeing the motion, let her eyes oval-out again and even managed a small smile. It was, indeed, hard to forget entirely one's first love.

Bud was running his hands down the wall behind where the throne had been located. Berti watched, entranced, remembering those same hands running down a curving calf...and not an Angus one, either!

The cop was getting frustrated at his lack of progress and pounded one stone block with the side of his fist to let off steam.

A loud scraping noise of stone over stone, reminding Ando of the delight of sliding sarcophagus lids in the British Museum, caused every eye to turn toward the floor a yard behind Bud where a section was beginning to lower. Soon they were staring at a long staircase, disappearing into darkness. Ando ordinarily would never have volunteered for such a thing were she in control of her baser impulses, but with the suspenders tucked into her backpack as they were, she was helpless before the wanton thoughts rising up her cerebral cortex and curling like opium smoke around and around her medulla oblongata.

"I'll go first!" she cried loudly.

"Go first?" Sue repeated, looking at Ando askance. "Why?"

How could Ando explain with all the cast watching like that her unquenchable need to be at the base of the staircase when Hando descended? A rear view would simply not do!

"Ummmm...well....ummm...Lucilla went down the staircase in the Egyptian tomb first and...and...I wanna go first THIS time!" It seemed, truly, not an unreasonable request and so everyone moved back, permitting her to step down into the cold and clammy gloom below with its little wispy noises and small vibrations.

"Watch out for apple cider!" Wanda called helpfully after her.

"You actually REMEMBER that far back in epilife?" Buggie asked admiringly. (See: Saving Captain Jack)

"I'm at the bottom," Ando called up, "and there's only 39 Steps."

She recalled clearly that it had been the 93rd step of her descent toward the lost tomb of Russenaten upon which the hot water bottle of apple cider had lain. She wished there were more steps here in the Secret Seagull Underground as it would, then, take longer for Hando to come down them. But, altogether, she was grateful for even the 39. "Send Hando down next!" she shouted, a bit too eagerly some might say.

Hando appeared in the light at the top of the stone stairs, his TWP's about his ankles, a seagull dangling from the strong fingers of his left hand. "Have you seen my suspenders?" he called down to her, wondering how the gull had gotten loose from them.

"Suspenders?" she repeated. "Um...no, I don't see any suspenders."

She spoke the truth because they were, indeed, quite out of sight in her backpack, further concealed under a stack of untended-to invoices. She licked her lower lip in unbridled anticipation. The young Melbourner stretched out his right foot toward the first step. Ando held her breath. This was gonna be SO good!

"Aieeeee!" he cried as, if one had not been so very caught up in wanton musings one would have, of course, presumed he would. Doing a series of perfect forward rolls, he tumbled down the steps, smacked into Ando, knocked her flat and ended up sitting straddled across her ribcage, his TWP's completely ripped from crotch through waistband, reduced to being mere crumpled legwarmers.

Wanda looked at Berti and commented, "Have you noticed of late how much epiviolence has been done to the TWP's?"

"Indeed," Berti replied seriously, "I had thought the soot and the pink punch and the soap bubbles and the Clorox bad enough, but THIS!"

Ando was torn...almost as much as the TWP's themselves. She did not know if she should be distraught at the bisecting of the sacred denim or...um...pleased...about what was resting on her chest. Pleased won, hands down...so to speak. She was amazed somewhat, though, at her capacity to smile broadly in spite of the vast number of bruises about her person. Hando was a hard man...nearly everywhere...especially in certain places.

Hando, though, had his eyes glued just beyond Ando's head, where his suspenders lay amongst the invoices that had belched from the squished backpack. Slowly his glittering eyes moved, coming to rest upon the former Welshwoman's own orbs. "Liar!" he spat, moving one hand toward her throat, rubbing the pad of his thumb with a bit too much pressure up and down her larynx.

"He WOULDN'T!" Wanda gasped from the top of the stairs.

Berti shrugged. "He's Hando."

Almost imperceptibly, his lips began to curve into a smile. His tongue came out, making one slow and sensual stroke across his lower lip.

"I like liars," he grinned then placing one palm on the floor on either side of her head, leaned forward, locking both his lips over her upper one, pulling it slightly back. Ando lay there, limp, her eyes closed.

"Did she faint?" Wanda asked worriedly.

"Maybe," Berti replied. "She was probably overcome that Joimus would permit her to have such a scene."

Colin, Zack, and Alex rushed down the stairs, grabbing Hando and flinging him off the prostrate woman. "Don't hurt her!" Alex said protectively.

"OOOOoooOoo...hurt me more!" Ando moaned.

The three men looked at her."She's incoherent," Zack stated.

"Obviously," Colin agreed.

Hando, meanwhile, had recovered his suspenders and attached them as best he could to hold up the two separate sections of his TWP's. He did not meet with complete success in the more centrally-located regions and, ever after, Ando would try as often as she could to walk backwards in front of him.

Arthur, always the silent, faithful lover, kept near to her and when she would trip and fall, as she did not more than 50 or 60 times a day, he would catch her and gallantly return her to her feet. He held the hope close to his heart that after a decade or two of this, she might actually notice his presence and reward him with the blessing of her smile.

The rest of the cast descended and joined the 5 already in the Underground. When they had all assembled at the base of the stairs, a switch was flipped by unseen hands, illuminating the Underground chamber in brilliant light. Scrapingly, the staircase folded itself back up into the the ceiling of the room.

Maximus and Jack exchanged glances. "I don't like this," Jack commented, his hand already reaching for his cutlass.

As their eyes adjusted to the strong lighting, the turned, scanning the contents and size of the chamber. It was huge and curved with the basic upper structure of the building so that the far end of it was out of sight. Not far from where they stood were rows and rows of tall, metal file cabinets. Just to the right of these hung a blue velvet curtain with braided gold-colored pull strings.

Maximus walked over to it, yanking on the braid. The curtains slid smoothly open, revealing a four by four foot photograph. It was of Nash's startled face in the plaza. "He SAID the seagull had taken his picture," Franki announced. "I didn't believe him at the time," she continued sorrowfully.

Bud jerked open a file drawer, randomly drawing out a manila folder. His eyes narrowed. "Jeffrey," he rumbled, "this is all about YOU!"

As Jeffrey walked over to take the file from Bud's hand, Biebe grabbed another file. A photograph of Cort slipped out of it, falling to the floor. File after file were revealed to be about all the characters...all the womenfolk, too.

Maximus flipped angrily through his folder. There were maps of all his battle campaigns, fingerprints that had been lifted from discarded weaponry, a photo of his bootprint in the mud, a chemical analysis of the properties found in his faux fur drape, detailed directions on the making of Roman armor, interviews from his troops, even stubble clippings from his beard. He flung it across the room, asking furiously, "Why would seagulls want all THIS??"

Again came the unlocatable voice. "Temper, temper, Maximussssss."

The General roared, quickly unsheathing his gladius. "SID! Come and fight me man to man!"

"Weeeeeeell...," Sid chortled, "you see, Maximus, I'm not... really...a man, now am I?"

"PIG!" Jack hissed. Loud 'oinks' seemed to bounce off the walls, accompanied by hilarious laughter.
                                   

"Oh, Jaaaack," the voice came again, "why don't you go to the far side of the room. I have a 'Surprise' waiting for you."

Maximus placed a restraining hand on the Captain's arm. "Don't" he said, the single word marvelously deep and rumbly.

But Jack shrugged his arm free and, black boots making sharp sounds on the stone floor, strode determinedly toward the unseen end of the curving room. Fear clutched Juditha's heart and she looked pleadingly at Maximus. "Don't let him go alone!"

Maximus briefly cupped her cheek with his palm, glanced meaningfully at Joimus, then ran after the Captain. "Maximus really likes that cupping thingie, doesn't he," Berti commented. Joimus just smiled.

"What are we waiting for?" Andy shouted. He was right.

There was no reason to stay where they were, so all of them took off in the direction of the far side of the room.

Jack, being considerably more experienced in going to the far side of things, was way ahead of them. He rounded the curve and stopped dead in his tracks, unable to believe what he saw.