Blank Mastermind

@emma-flournoy- d’awww <3

Character inspiration… that’s a quite interesting topic, actually. Let’s list…

Wolfgang- Narration voice was strongly inspired by Sage from the Ascendance Trilogy (I just really loved how I could be reading the most boring scene in the whole book and still be grinning and unable to put it down because the character voice was just so darn fun to read). Quirks and physical appearance from the actor Sam Claflin. Probably a bit influenced on the gangster front by a friend’s character, Mike Anderson, because I was reading her book at the time.

Dallas- Very very inspired by Fergus from the Peleg Chronicles. Slightly Horatio Hornblower. And I could see a smidgen of Hiccup from HTTYD.

Bad News- An exact split down the middle of Elwood Blues (Blues Brothers, which should not be watched without a guardian or something) and Rootbeer Raccinette (Losing Joe’s Place by Gordon Korman. 10/10 would recommend this lovely thing. <3)

@emma-flournoy- Again, that came from Fergus. Fergus is the shieldbearer for Lord McDougal (a total goofball of a lord) and Fergus takes his job deadly serious. He always calls McDougal ‘sir’, he’s always the voice of logic, he rarely smiles and his loyalty is really unmatched. Really, such a serious guy, but he’s the biggest sweetheart. Quite honestly, all the Dallas fangirls are reminding me of my own affection for Fergus. <3

Aaaaaand, because the Dallas fangirls, have a deleted scene from his POV. Between part 8 and 9, I believe. -squints for a second and thinks- @kate-flournoy @emma-flournoy @corissa-maiden-of-praise @anne-of-lothlorien @hope I think that’s all you Dallas-crazed bunch?

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“Tonight we have joining us the wife and children of our city’s own Amazing Man!” The commentator’s voice crackled over the speakers and I winced.

Calling attention to them was not the best idea, considering the bomb under their seat and the fact that Wolfgang was waiting for a “good moment” to set it off. If there ever was one.

I looked over at him briefly. His eyes were wide open and he stared at the big screen with the projected video of the Fernsbys as they waved to the crowd.

He recognized them.

Oh Lord . . . please don’t bring his memories back right now.

It was extremely unlikely that he would sit through the whole game just holding the detonation button and not doing anything with it, but I clung to a tiny thread of hope. Hoping the insane luck of having Wolfgang loose his memories just as I happened to fall into his hands would continue.

I tore my eyes away from him and forced myself to clap. Out of my periphery, I saw Wolfgang’s hand move and my heart skipped a beat.

“POP”

The seats under the Fernsbys bucked upwards and smoke poured out. The people rattled around and fell like pieces on a gameboard, but aside from that and a little smoke . . . nothing.

They were safe.

The bomb malfunctioned.

And the only person who could have possibly done it was . . . Wolfgang.

It took me a few seconds to realize that my mouth was hanging open. I closed it and swallowed, almost dizzy with relief.

But the gang . . . how was he going to get the gang off his tail for this? He’d just betrayed his own cause.

Within the next second, Wolfgang provided the worst response possible to the situation.

He jumped up dramatically onto his seat and threw down the phone he’d been holding with an angry yell.

“That was supposed to work!” He tugged on his already insane hair in mock frustration, “What the . . .” I flinched as he confirmed the fact that his memory loss didn’t touch his vast knowledge of swear words.

The foul-mouthed man in the leather jacket was now officially the star of the show. Many bewildered and frightened glances were directed our way. The gang was making their escape, as well they should, but Wolfgang wasn’t done yet.

He pointed over to Mrs. Fernsby and the kids as they moved towards the exit, Angela comforting the children as best she could, despite looking quite shaken herself.

“Just you wait!” Wolfgang called after them. He paused for a second, moving his mouth a little, as though still deciding what to say. “You haven’t seen the last of me! I’ll get you yet!”

How could one man be so awful at playing the simple role of himself?

I turned away, looking behind me and my breath caught in my throat.

Mr. Fernsby . . . Amazing Man . . . was zipping down out of the sky, coming straight for us. His green cape, the same color as my shirt, fluttered out furiously behind him with his speed. He held one fist out in front of him.

Obviously, he’d been noticed by other members of the audience, because I heard the start of a cheer.

I got my breath back. “Sir!”

Wolfgang stopped at my word and frowned slightly, but didn’t get much chance to react.

Mr. Fernsby swooped up as he came in and his outstretched fist connected with a “crack” right against the base of Wolfgang’s skull, sounding like a bat hitting a ball. Right where Mr. News had plastered a bandage . . . and right where so much blood had came from to stain the back of his coat.

Wolfgang stiffened for a second, still upright and staring straight ahead. His eyes rolled back and he tipped forward, collapsing over the seat in front of him. He slid down limply and I saw the band-aid of the back of his head quickly leaking through with more blood.

I winced.

Mr. Fernsby grabbed hold of my shoulders and looked me up and down. “Dallas! Are you . . .? Did he . . .?” He stopped for a second, catching his breath and looking around. He swallowed, “Angela and the kids?”

“They’re safe, sir.” I assured him. Siren noises started up in the distance. My eyes went to Wolfgang’s crumpled form again.

“And you? Are you alright?”

A jab of pain shot through my midsection, almost as if in response, and I clenched my teeth. I wavered a little, “Well, not . . . exactly, sir.” Another jab and my hand came up to press against the bandage involuntarily.

“Here,” Mr. Fernsby pulled my over and made me sit down on one of the bleachers.

Footsteps clanked on metal as blue-coated officers flooded into the stadium. A handful came running over to where we were. One officer saluted.

“Amazing Man. Any injuries over this way?”

Mr. Fernsby looked at me, “Yes, but not from the bombing.” He nodded towards Wolfgang. “The man who planted it is right there.”

The officer looked down, his eyes stopping on the leather jacket. “Well, it clearly doesn’t take Dankworth very long to splotch up his record again. Just thank heaven the bomb malfunctioned. C’mon, men . . .”

I pushed off Mr. Fernsby’s hand from my shoulder and stood, despite my weak knees. “Wait.”

They all looked at me. I wanted to shrink, but pushed away the feeling and stood up straighter, looking over at Mr. Fernsby. “Sir, could I talk to you for a second first?”

He frowned, but pulled me off to the side anyway. His voice dropped to a low tone. “What is it?”

The policemen watched curiously.

I glanced over at Wolfgang, then met Mr. Fernsby’s eyes. “It . . . it’s about Mr. Dankworth, sir. There’s been an . . . unexpected development.”

Mr. Fernsby tipped his head, “Yes?”

“There was the whole incident at the opera the other night. I’m not sure what happened to Agent Friday, but . . .”

“They found him dead backstage, Dallas.”

I flinched and swallowed before continuing. “His death may not have been in vain, sir. I was shot in a scuffle with Mr. Dankworth in the security room and passed out for a bit. When I regained consciousness, I called for help and the one who came to help me was . . . Wolfgang.”

Mr. Fernsby raised an eyebrow unbelievingly. I licked my lips and nodded.

“He said he came to help and was totally bewildered when I said that he shot me. He didn’t remember my name. When we ran into Mr. News and his gang, he didn’t remember any of them, either.”

I took a breath, “Sir, I have it from his own lips: Mr. Dankworth has amnesia.”

Mr. Fernsby’s mouth opened slightly and he turned to look over at the form collapsed over the seats. “But he still set off the bomb . . .”

“Actually, sir, he was the only reason it didn’t do more damage. He sabotaged it himself.”

He looked back and met my eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Positive.”

“Is everything alright, Amazing Man?” called one of the officers.

I saw Mr. Fernsby flinch. He’d never quite gotten used to that title. “Yes, officer. Just a slight change of plans.” He turned and strode back to the group of policemen. “I’ve gotten some information from Dallas and I believe . . .” he faltered for a second, but gave a firm nod. “Mr. Dankworth will be coming back to my house.”

The officer gave him a baffled look. “Are you . . . certain about that?”

“There have been some unexpected developments.” Mr. Fernsby stepped down next to Wolfgang and bent over. “He’s not as involved as it looks. I would like to . . . interrogate him myself.”

He took hold of Wolfgang’s shoulders and pulled him upright. Wolfgang’s eyes were closed and his head lolled backwards. Mr. Fernsby took one of his arms and flopped it around his shoulders, pulling him up as he stood. Wolfgang’s head fell forward again and I saw that the small bandage had totally soaked through by now.

Mr. Fernsby saluted to the officers. “I’ll be off now, men. Thank you for your service.”

I raised a hand, “Also . . . some medical help would be appreciated. If you could possibly send that by.”

Mr. Fernsby nodded in agreement and looked over at me. “I’ll see you in a bit. Just going to take him back to the house.”

And I do believe that was the first and last time that Mr. Dankworth flew.

• This reply was modified 7 years, 12 months ago by Rosey Mucklestone.