Nancy had barely reached the stairs up to London Bridge when her legs gave out on her. She stumbled, and only a desperate grab for the iron railing embedded in the dark, wet stone saved her from falling forward into the narrow stairwell. Within her chest her heart pounded a rapid tattoo, driven both by exertion and fear, and her breath came in ragged gasps, sending gouts of vapour into the chill air with each one.
"Which way?" she murmured to herself, glancing from the stairwell to the arch leading under the bridge, to the street which ran through it. Only the road along which she had run did not get consideration, for that way lay danger -- danger which revealed itself when the hulking form of Bill Sikes materialized out of the fog. As he stepped into the faint yellow cone cast by the guttering gas lamp that protruded from the far side of the arch, she caught sight of his unshaven, brutish face, still writ with a fury aimed fully at her. In his hand he held the large clasp-knife he habitually kept in his pocket, open and ready to use.
"Please, Bill, please..." she moaned. "Spare my life for the love of Heaven, as I spared yours. Just tell me what I have done that you come at me like this."
"You know, you she-devil!" he growled, the fog stealing the edge from his voice even as it rumbled across to her. "You were watched tonight; every word you said was heard. I'll not be betrayed, Nancy, not by you."
"Betrayed? Bill, dear Bill, I could never betray you!" Nancy gasped. She tried to rise to her feet again, only to find her exhaustion was still too great. "I only sought to find us a home to spend our days together, away from this dreadful place."
Beneath his beetling brow, Bill scowled at her. He said nothing, shifting his grip on the clasp-knife and raising it from his side.
Nancy shivered at the sight. "Please, you cannot have the heart to kill me. Bill, Bill, for dear God's sake, for your own, for mine, stop before you spill my blood! I have been true to you, upon my guilty soul I have!"
Bill took one step toward her, lifting the clasp-knife further, then halted in surprise when a voice drifted out of the tunnel to the side.
"Take one more step toward her, Sikes, and I promise you that you'll regret it."
As Nancy struggled to identify the familiar-seeming voice, soft footsteps echoed out of the darkness, and a lean figure in grey seemed to swirl into existence out of the fog to stand with its back to her. "I'll give you one chance to walk away from this, Bill Sikes," it said, "but if you don't take it, I'll see to it you won't be able to walk away from anything."
Nancy's eyes widened in surprise when she recognized the voice and its American accent. It was Doug Sangnoir, the quiet and inoffensive-seeming fellow who came into the tavern every day for lunch. Despite the French name he was an American through-and-through (though she'd not met enough Americans to really know what that meant). He was a gentleman, to boot. He always had a kind word and a friendly smile for her, and his tips were always generous. And unlike so many of the tavern's other regulars, he never acted as though his custom gave him the right to be lewd to her.
Not once had he ever given her the impression that he could or would stand up to Bill, who could be more beast than man. But there he stood, firm and unwavering, between them.
"This is none o' your concern, Sang-narr," Bill slurred in his anger. "You go an' step aside an' leave me and Nancy to our business now." He brandished the clasp-knife as though it were a visible punctuation to that demand.
Doug sounded truly and deeply regretful. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Bill, for you're going to harm that girl, and I can't have that on my conscience. Not when I could stop it."
"Then I guess I'll be having to take care o' both of you!" Bill growled, and then with a roar threw himself at Doug, clasp-knife raised above his head to strike. Nancy shrieked and, turning her head, shut her eyes, sure that Bill would kill the smaller man with a single blow, and finish the job with her a moment later. But rather than sharp, moist sound of metal blade meeting flesh followed by the soft sighing of a dying man, she heard instead one, two, three hard, fast thuds, followed by two horrifying cracks.
When the hand touched her shoulder a moment later she almost cried out in terror before she heard Doug ask, "Are you all right, Nancy?"
Slowly she opened her eyes to see him standing over her, honest concern in his gentle blue-grey eyes and not a mark on him. She peered around him and gasped at the sight of Bill unconscious and fetched up against the base of the bridge. There was something wrong with the way his legs bent, and Nancy gasped as she remembered the threat Doug had offered.
The clasp-knife was nowhere to be seen.
"How...?" she began, then stopped, not sure if she were asking how he'd beaten Bill, or how he'd done it so quickly, or how it was possible at all.
Doug seemed to understand, and smiled. "I can be a very dangerous person to those who deserve it, Nancy." He held out his hand to her, and unhesitatingly she took it. Without a single sign of exertion he drew her to her feet. "Now, if you're feeling better, you might want to come with me. Young Oliver's going to be needing all his friends at his side."
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
"Which way?" she murmured to herself, glancing from the stairwell to the arch leading under the bridge, to the street which ran through it. Only the road along which she had run did not get consideration, for that way lay danger -- danger which revealed itself when the hulking form of Bill Sikes materialized out of the fog. As he stepped into the faint yellow cone cast by the guttering gas lamp that protruded from the far side of the arch, she caught sight of his unshaven, brutish face, still writ with a fury aimed fully at her. In his hand he held the large clasp-knife he habitually kept in his pocket, open and ready to use.
"Please, Bill, please..." she moaned. "Spare my life for the love of Heaven, as I spared yours. Just tell me what I have done that you come at me like this."
"You know, you she-devil!" he growled, the fog stealing the edge from his voice even as it rumbled across to her. "You were watched tonight; every word you said was heard. I'll not be betrayed, Nancy, not by you."
"Betrayed? Bill, dear Bill, I could never betray you!" Nancy gasped. She tried to rise to her feet again, only to find her exhaustion was still too great. "I only sought to find us a home to spend our days together, away from this dreadful place."
Beneath his beetling brow, Bill scowled at her. He said nothing, shifting his grip on the clasp-knife and raising it from his side.
Nancy shivered at the sight. "Please, you cannot have the heart to kill me. Bill, Bill, for dear God's sake, for your own, for mine, stop before you spill my blood! I have been true to you, upon my guilty soul I have!"
Bill took one step toward her, lifting the clasp-knife further, then halted in surprise when a voice drifted out of the tunnel to the side.
"Take one more step toward her, Sikes, and I promise you that you'll regret it."
As Nancy struggled to identify the familiar-seeming voice, soft footsteps echoed out of the darkness, and a lean figure in grey seemed to swirl into existence out of the fog to stand with its back to her. "I'll give you one chance to walk away from this, Bill Sikes," it said, "but if you don't take it, I'll see to it you won't be able to walk away from anything."
Nancy's eyes widened in surprise when she recognized the voice and its American accent. It was Doug Sangnoir, the quiet and inoffensive-seeming fellow who came into the tavern every day for lunch. Despite the French name he was an American through-and-through (though she'd not met enough Americans to really know what that meant). He was a gentleman, to boot. He always had a kind word and a friendly smile for her, and his tips were always generous. And unlike so many of the tavern's other regulars, he never acted as though his custom gave him the right to be lewd to her.
Not once had he ever given her the impression that he could or would stand up to Bill, who could be more beast than man. But there he stood, firm and unwavering, between them.
"This is none o' your concern, Sang-narr," Bill slurred in his anger. "You go an' step aside an' leave me and Nancy to our business now." He brandished the clasp-knife as though it were a visible punctuation to that demand.
Doug sounded truly and deeply regretful. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Bill, for you're going to harm that girl, and I can't have that on my conscience. Not when I could stop it."
"Then I guess I'll be having to take care o' both of you!" Bill growled, and then with a roar threw himself at Doug, clasp-knife raised above his head to strike. Nancy shrieked and, turning her head, shut her eyes, sure that Bill would kill the smaller man with a single blow, and finish the job with her a moment later. But rather than sharp, moist sound of metal blade meeting flesh followed by the soft sighing of a dying man, she heard instead one, two, three hard, fast thuds, followed by two horrifying cracks.
When the hand touched her shoulder a moment later she almost cried out in terror before she heard Doug ask, "Are you all right, Nancy?"
Slowly she opened her eyes to see him standing over her, honest concern in his gentle blue-grey eyes and not a mark on him. She peered around him and gasped at the sight of Bill unconscious and fetched up against the base of the bridge. There was something wrong with the way his legs bent, and Nancy gasped as she remembered the threat Doug had offered.
The clasp-knife was nowhere to be seen.
"How...?" she began, then stopped, not sure if she were asking how he'd beaten Bill, or how he'd done it so quickly, or how it was possible at all.
Doug seemed to understand, and smiled. "I can be a very dangerous person to those who deserve it, Nancy." He held out his hand to her, and unhesitatingly she took it. Without a single sign of exertion he drew her to her feet. "Now, if you're feeling better, you might want to come with me. Young Oliver's going to be needing all his friends at his side."
![[+]](/images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
Spoiler-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.