The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay - Volume 1: Gallery of Rogues

by Mike Cervantes

  “Oh, and tell those two hiding on the corner to take their ruddy fingers out of their ears!”

  As they hid in the darkness of the distant sewer hallway, The Derby marveled “The reasoning behind his madness is just diabolical.”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree with you, dear.” The Jay drolly replied. “Do we have a plan?”

  “We fight our way to the platform. Then, I can use a compound I’ve put in my belt to neutralize the glycerol.”

  “I was hoping there was more to it.”

  “I’m afraid not. Let’s go.” The Derby led the charge, taking two guards out instantly by swatting his cane, first into the head of the first random henchman, then the brisket of the second. With a clear view of this scheme’s mastermind, he called him out. “Silas Monstrosity, consider your nefarious scheme properly thwarted!”

  Silas callously looked away from his work onto The Derby. “Well-well, it looks like the sideshow came to pay me a visit.” He raised into view a cane of his own, drawing from the handle a rapier, and began to circle The Derby holding it at the ready.

  “Yes, well, I’m quite sure you’re used to seeing things from behind bars.” The Derby retorted, holding his staff ready for fencing.

  “I’d rather sit in a cage than be caught loose in that gaudy outfit. I suppose you-“

  “Gentlemen, would you kindly begin fighting now?” The Jay shouted from a distance. One could clearly see, in the interim of the two men’s insults, The Jay had quite thoroughly beaten the ugly out of every single one of Silas’ henchmen. Now she was patiently awaiting the inevitable.

  “Yes, sorry to keep you waiting.” The Derby crossed his staff with Silas’ sword. “So…” He struggled “Precisely what did you plan to use the nitroglycerin for?”

  “I was planning on holding Big Ben for ransom, and threaten The Queen into giving me the crown jewels.”

  The Derby sneered, clashing a few more times with Silas’ sword. “Who could have guessed you were capable of such malodorous depths?”

  “I could have guessed!” The Jay shouted.

  “Enough!” With a burst of strength, Silas thrust his blade hard enough to knock The Derby on the ground. He then ran to the vat, wrapping his fingers across a chain that dangled from the platform. “I may not get the jewels, but at least I’ll be rid of you two costumed cretins!” He yanked the chain, laughed maniacally, and then ran off.

  From his seated position, The Derby glanced up to see the giant vial containing the nitrous extract tip towards the beaker. “He’s set the bomb! What should we do!?”

  “Quickly, dear! The compound!” The Jay began to run towards the beaker. Thinking quickly, the Derby tossed her the vial containing the neutralizer. Using her agility, The Jay planted feet up the side of the glass beaker, reaching high enough to catch the vial, and dunk it in the solution.

  There was an explosion.

  Fortunately though, it was chemical.

  The compound had fortunately kicked in just in time to save the duo, leaving them covered head-to-toe in a soggy brownish paste. The Jay wiped the remnants from her face, sputtered and said “Dear, what exactly is in this compound?”

  “Yeast.”

  “Yeast, dear?”

  “Yeast.” The Derby removed his hat, using the brim to scrape gobs off of his suit. “I’m afraid I may have the bottles mixed up again.”

  “Well, I suppose that I should be grateful we’re alive, even if Silas did get away.” She gave another sigh. “For the life of me I’ll never understand why you always take such insane risks.”

  The Derby shook his head. “You decided to join me in this…eccentric little crusade, wear that costume, and yet you don’t understand?”

  “Oh, I understand why I wear the costume,” The Jay replied. “Sometime, You should favor me with the reason why you do.”

  “I should…” The Derby admitted after cleaning himself up as well as he could with his bare hands. “Later. For now though, I think there’s a chemical shower waiting for us back home.”

  “Lead the way dear.” The Jay said curtly, taking her husband’s shoulder. As they walked through the sewers together, she thought for a moment about what the commissioner told her. Was Thaddeus Hedwater just some eccentric little American boy playing with a chemistry set, and if she were to stay with him, could she possibly get hurt?

  Perhaps.

  But for the moment, she decided, she wouldn’t trade him for anything.

  The Three-Headed Mob

  The strange circumstances started where most people’s days end: In the parlor, drinking tea, as Thaddeus J. Hedwater, and his wife, Mary Jane made a polite evening for their guest Chief Constable Howard O’Gratin. Their previous date for tea was sadly cut short. First there was a small explosion, which Thaddeus had caused in his basement workshop, then there was the threat of a larger explosion, caused by arch-criminal Silas Monstrosity. He had attempted to destroy Big Ben using several gallons of stolen nitroglycerin. Fortunately for the city, The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay had intervened, and brought with them a chemical that was able to neutralize the volatile weapon in time.

  “Most of my men are still down in the sewers scraping that goopy concoction The Scarlet Derby left about the walls,” The Constable said between sips of tea. “I wonder what had gotten mixed in with the nitrate to cause such a reaction.”

  “Perhaps it was yeast?” Thaddeus offered. Indeed, while disguised as the Scarlet Derby, Thaddeus had thrown a vial of yeast in the nitrate. He had originally developed another chemical compound that would have done the trick a bit neater, but in the heat of the moment the two heroes had thrown in the yeast instead.”

  “Piffle,” the constable replied “A common household compound like yeast would not react that way. As a professional chemist, you would know that.”

  “Well, perhaps The Scarlet Derby simply got lucky this time,” Mary replied with her lips still hovering very close to her tea cup. Her husband grimaced, and slouched back in his chair with crossed arms.

  “Well, at any rate, the city indeed owes a great debt to The Derby,” The Constable stood and went for his coat and cap. “I appreciate you re-scheduling our little tea-time, but I’m afraid I must be going.”

  “Already working on another case, Constable?” Mary Jane asked curiously.

  “I’m afraid so. It’s the strangest thing as well: Belle’s Tea House at the bottom of Cocoa Road was left in shambles at the growth of some giant beanstalk.”

  Mary Jane gave a gasp “The devil you say!”

  “I would HOPE to say the devil,” The Constable replied “But I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It was indeed a giant green vine which just sprouted through the middle of the shop. We suspect it’s just a freak natural disaster, but nonetheless we must investigate.”

  With that, the Constable tipped his cap at the two of them and walked out the front door. As he left, Mary Jane felt The Constable’s words eat at her. Was The Scarlet Derby really the only one responsible for saving the day? She certainly remembers helping. Maybe it was just his oversight.

  "Dear," Mary Jane addressed her husband "Do you think the Constable was aware that Midnight Jay was also at the scene of the rescue?"

  Sadly, Thaddeus had completely ignored what Mary Jane had suggested with her question, for no sooner than the door shut did his deductive mind tinker with the anomaly the Constable had discussed. “There is no possible way that was a natural disaster.”

  Mary Jane scoffed, “Do you suspect little boy Jack of the book with the giant has taken to hitting tea houses?”

  “I suspect that in reality beanstalks don’t usually grow tall enough to cause such collateral damage, unless they were acted on by some sort of man-made, at-will, instantaneous mutation.”

  “I agree with you on that,” Mary Jane replied “But why, of all places, would a supposed plant-mutating criminal damage a small tea house?”

  “Because of the tea,” Thaddeus replied simply.

 
“They wouldn’t care to just walk in and buy a cuppa?” Mary Jane asked drolly.

  Thaddeus took to explaining a bit more patiently, “Tea is one of England’s most beloved commodities. Imagine if, at some point, some megalomaniacal fiend decided to destroy tea factories across the nation and create artificial shortages to drive prices up. I say, it’s practically a recipe for total economic takeover!”

  “I think your imagination may be running away with you, dear...”

  “Well, if we expect to get to the bottom of this case, we’d best run away along with it!” Thaddeus made a beeline for his basement workshop, where he would change into costume. With a reluctant shrug, Mary Jane quickly came after.

  O O O

  And so, Thaddeus Hedwater and his wife Mary Jane were soon exploring the streets in the guise of The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay. They had originally planned to head straight for the street The Constable had mentioned, but ended up only going as far as the corner of their own block, when something immediately suspicious caught their eye.

  The Derby asked “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  “I certainly hope I’m not, dear,” Replied the Jay.

  Unfortunately for them, they were indeed staring at precisely the same thing. Standing at the end of the block was a green plant, which seemed to stand several miles tall with its multiple branches splaying out in every direction. Looking upwards, they could see the torn-apart remains of a small cottage mingling among the mighty plant’s branches.

  “Another tea house,” The Derby idly commented.

  “What makes you think so, dear?” The Jay said, still staring upward at the giant vine.

  “There’s a lot of broken glass and lids from display jars that had fallen from the windows and cracked upon the street.”

  “So there is,” The Jay dropped her head and then moved slowly towards the vine. “Seems like a circumstance best left to science. Care to break out the chemistry set, dear?”

  The Derby shook his head. “I’m not much of a botanist. I was sort-of hoping the time you’ve spent in your private garden would help us figure out what it is.”

  The Jay spent a few moments looking up and down the stem, feeling the branches between her palms, and running the leaves between her fingers. It was when she pushed her fingers between the knotted stem and pulled loose a small amount of light brown seeds did she come to a conclusion.

  “It’s an Arabica.”

  “Arabica? I’m not familiar with the t-”

  “Arabica, as in coffee, it is a giant, mutant, middle-eastern coffee plant.” She promptly dropped the seeds onto the street and dusted her hands off, sneering “It’s a good thing I was wearing gloves.”

  “I take it you’re not a fan of coffee?” The Derby asked with a bit of smugness in his voice.

  “Call me old fashioned,” The Jay replied, “but I still heed my mother’s old warnings about the stuff: dulls the senses, makes people dependent, upsets the head and stomach, and ruin’s a man’s ability to,” The Jay looked up at the Derby, who continued to smile slyly.

  “Anyway, I do believe that I’m starting to believe your theory about the tea economy. It’d be easy to usurp the national beverage if…”

  “You immediately replace it with another beverage. Yes I was thinking the same thing!” The Derby energetically stroked the bottom of his chin. “The only thing we need now is a suspect.”

  No sooner had The Derby said those words did the oddest little man show up pushing a peddler’s cart with a metal tin made for roasted peanuts across the street. He was a thin man with a large, bulbous nose, a thin, curled moustache, and although his clothing was indeed that of a peanut peddler, they draped in strange places about his body, as though they were a size too big or wide for his slender frame.

  “You there,” The Jay called across the street “Isn’t it a bit late in the evening to be selling peanuts?”

  The peanut peddler stopped in is tracks and stammered as he scratched the back of his head. “Uh, we-w-we-well, I was just ta-taking this to a banquet of a wealthy businessman. Ru-roasted peanuts just happen to be his favorite.”

  The Jay curled her lip at the response. “Really, so then you wouldn’t mind,” She held up a nickel between her index and pointer fingers “letting me have a bag.”

  “I, uh, I Left the peanuts at the actual party, gotta go!” And then the peddler dashed off as quickly as a man pushing a peanut cart could possibly travel.

  Stunned, the Jay turned sideways to the Derby and asked “is that man strange enough to count as being a suspect?”

  “Indeed he is,” The Derby clicked his tongue. “Sometimes this job is all too easy.” And with that, the two followed in pursuit.

  O O O

  Soon, the duo found themselves at the corner of Cornwall and Stone, home of the Cornwall-Stone tea house. Hiding in the shadows of the nearby building, they watched the peanut peddler approach another pair of shady characters on the street. One was a woman dressed head-to-toe in a laced-up dark red velvet gown with a matching pillbox hat held on her head by a pair of large hat pins. The other was a large, brutish looking fellow in a painter’s cap, and an olive-colored sweater who had a cricket bat tied over his shoulder with a long piece of twine. They both wore masquerade masks over their faces, and when the velvet-clad lady handed the peanut peddler a third, they matched.

  “Did you manage to take out the Springley Brothers’ tea house?” The woman asked.

  “I did, Steletta, but I was nearly caught. I knew nobody would believe a peanut vendor was walking around at night,” the peddler peeled away the fake curly mustache he was wearing as part of his disguise. His own lip was hairless except for a few strands of black stray whiskers which jutted randomly from the sides of his cheeks and chin.

  “But we needed you to carry ‘dat peanut cart around t’ haul around deh mutant coffee beans, right, Bootsy?” The large one suggested, his voice walking the fine line between sloppy, thuggish dialect, and pure dimwittedness.

  “It doesn’t matter, Heely” Steletta chuckled greedily as she wrung her hands. “As soon as we hit just a few more buildings we’ll have rid the entire city of its tea supply, and we’ll be ready to fill the gap in London’s tea commerce with our own specialty brew.”

  “Our coffee houses will stand on every corner of the country!” Bootsy chortled.

  “An’ then we can afford a farm with some rabbits, and a boat t’ catch shrimp, an-” Heely’s rant was silenced by rapid blow on his head by Steletta’s fist.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Heely,” Steletta advised. “Why dream of future prosperities when we’re already the kings and queen of London’s criminal underworld?”

  “We’re the very masterminds of crime!” Bootsy cheered, linking arms with Steletta.

  “Huzzah!” Heely added and linked Steletta’s other arm. Now that they stood arm-to-arm in a three criminal chorus line, they kicked their legs together as they chanted in unison:

  “We’re the meanest of the mean,

  Conniving and cruel!

  We are the greatest at our jobs!

  So if you think that you’ve been cheated,

  You’ve really been defeated

  By the members of the Three-Headed Mob!”

  As the wicked trio connived in their sinister display, The Derby and Jay, still hidden in the shadows of the corner of a building, looked on in awe.

  “They’re certainly a theatrical bunch aren’t they?” The Jay said drolly.

  “It’s a textbook case of Despicable Triplicate Syndrome.” The Derby, with a smirk on his face, shook his head.

  “Despicable Triplicate Syndrome? Oh do pray tell, dear.” The Jay inquired.

  “It’s only a theory, but a popular one among criminologists.” The Derby explained. “It states that certain types of criminals, each containing a certain kind of temperament, tend to team up in order to fill out the weaknesses of their own personalities. The leader is always extremely enterprising
and ambitious, but also very vain, and frequently female. The intellect of the trio frequently employs the use of science and invention, which is why our skinny little friend here has been making his rounds with that peanut cart. Finally, the third member of the trio is always a man of great strength but very little intellect, and that’s certainly what we are seeing with that rather gorilla-looking fellow.”

  “It doesn’t sound like a theory of criminology to me. It sounds more like some sort of silly villain formula stolen from the funny pages,” The Jay sneered.

  The Derby gave a shrug, “At any rate, it means that we are dealing with a pretty varied group of malcontents, and we’re going to need to take great care lest we get caught up in a whirlwind of sinister tactics.”

  “So what do you suppose we should do?” The Jay asked.

  “We spring into action!” The Derby declared.

  “And then?” The Jay said insistently.

  “…We take it from there.”

  And so they sprung, with the Derby declaring “Halt, you detestable tea-house tippers!”

  “Oh drat!” swore Bootsy, “It is The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay!

  “Who?” Steletta asked with her head quirked sideways at her criminal cohort.

  “You know, the Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay, London’s stalwart defenders of all which is lawful and just,” Bootsy gave a sneer. “I should have known they would have followed me here!”

  “And to think they consider you the brains.” The Jay said idly.

  “You shouldn’t be so sharp-tongued in front of the very leaders of London’s criminal underworld!” Steletta fumed.

  “Even the highest criminal is low before the actions of a noble crime fighter!” The Derby declared.

  “Yeah, we’ll just see about THAT!” Bootsy declared as he grabbed a beaker from the peanut truck and doused the two heroes with it.

  The Jay sputtered “Ugh, More coffee!”

  “I take it you’re not a fan of our product?” Steletta crooned.

  “Indeed, but not so much that I won’t clobber your henchman for dousing me with it!” The Jay growled as she drew her umbrella.