General Banter and the Note of Doom (an add-on tale)

General Banter sat quietly in the remotest corner of the dark coffee-house, hands folded across the finial of his walking-stick, pith helmet beside him on the small round table.

Every few minutes he would take a small sip of sweet, dark coffee from the demitasse in front of him, and a pull on his cigar. Other than that, he was motionless, save for his narrowed eyes, which constantly moved, observing his surroundings minutely.

A tall, thin man with receding black hair slowly entered the shop. General Banter watched him closely.


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The thin man hesitated for a moment inside the doorway, his eyes no doubt adjusting to the gloom of the coffee shop. He crossed the room with a determined step to a small table in the far corner, where a lady, heavily veiled, awaited. General Banter noted that the lady was dressed all in black, in addition to her veil, almost as though she were in mourning. But what would a respectable lady in mourning be doing out and about in public? And at a common coffee shop, no less?
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A waiter unobtrusively bustled past, checking the coffee level in the General's demitasse (acceptable) and taking orders from the far corner table.
On his return to the elagantly worn bench upon which the gleaming, lightly hissing marvel that produced the dark brown brain-fuel that brought the shop it's profit, the waiter conspicuously hung an old but well serviced shotgun, marked Chekhov Brand, on the wall behind the benchtop.

He busied himself at the steaming device.

The thin man waited for the lady to acknowledge him, than sat. What appeared to be preliminary greetings were exchanged - the lady seeming far more stiff and unwelcoming than her gentleman caller.

They both paused as the waiter brought their coffees, checked on whether or not pastries were required and was back at the bar before continuing. Some more words, too hushed to be heard, were exchanged, then the man pused a slim folder towards the lady, beckoning her to open it. She did so, glanced at the contents in the manner of one not expecting to be interested, did the most obvious double-take this side of theatre, and most ungraciously shoved it back at him, her face a mask of outrage. The words "How dare you!" floated across the room.

"How interesting!" thought the General. But he remained motionless as before.

The thin man looked annoyed,"you neednot be so angery it is nothing more then what you asked for,
I have your order listed in my note book right thare."
he reached in to his coat pocket for the book,but she had risen to her feet," That is not by any meens what I ordered!"
and with that she ran to the door,but just as she reached it a group of ladys came in all talking and laghing,she pushed past,but one of the woman grabed her arm," Agitha?"

The buxom lass that acosted Agitha was also dressed in nearly all black but in contrast to Agitha's subdued presence, this "lady" outlandishly sported a tricorn hat, leather corset, lace skirtage, thigh high boots, black pearls, and a bright sword hung by her side.

"Well fancy that, us Sea Hags running into the likes of you, and this here being International Talk Like a Pirate Day too. Well ye see, we decided to dress the part and have come to commandeer the finest dainties this den has to offer! And here ye are! Served right up as if on a silver platter", Jezebelle the pirate lass spurted in her best (she hoped) cockney accent.

Agitha had but one word to say to her friend, "Yar!", as she grinned from ear to ear.

Knowing his clientelle the waiter began to line up espresso cups along the bar and ready his boiler. Caffine concentration: maximum.

Across the room the thin man gatherd his scattered papers.

The man who had come to meet Agitha in the first place had looked more than a little annoyed at her reaction to the goods he had brought. But as soon as Jezebelle and her cohorts entered the shop, he took on the look of someone who wished to be somewhere else.

Seeing no back door, he began to work open the window in what he surely hoped was a discrete manner.

"Hi wouldn't try that if Hi were you" said a male voice from the shadows "'is lordship don't take too kindly to people trying to hescape paying the bill" A large figure moved into view - the smart clothes accentuating rather than hiding his muscular build - the chap could easily have been a pugilist.

"Wa 'ave 'ad the windows sealed shut to prevent such a thing. And besides, you wouldn't want to be making your hescape into the yard of the local po-lice yard, now would you?"

The ferrety looking man glanced at the empty table he had shared with Agitha a moment ago, then turned to face the well dressed bulldog of a man. And showing his back to the newcomers said "Ah! Must have slipped my mind." He reached into his coat, and drew out his wallet. Producing a ten pound note and placing it on the counter he asked the waiter "I don't suppose I may use the rear door of this establishmen, may I?" in a voice that was trying hard to sound calm.

General Banter had by this time essentially faded from view, a trick he'd learned in the Orient. He quietly rose from his table, and invisibly crossed the room. No one took the least bit of notice.

The waiter picked up the money and inclined his head towards the door, contriving to indicate that paying customers could leave how they liked, providing a scene was avoided. The till rang, a surprisingly bright sound in the thickly tense atmosphere.

The large, well dressed fellow loomed back to his place in the shadows, staying attentive in case of any further trouble, and the waiter shifted his weight slightly in preparation for same and began refilling the coffee hopper of the third coffeepot nonchalantly hefting the chrome jug section.

Tall, dark and lanky made a move from the door. One of the pirate lasses sent a throwing knife to hum in the wood directly infront of his face, and dived for the man as he turned to block further attack.
Punches erupted, and eyes were bruised. Lace was just beginning to tear most alarmingly when Sir Bulldog of Tough* stepped forward and hoisted the two brawlers by their collars.
"Zer estahblishment wished hyu to know that breakages vill be included in hyu bill." he said grimly, including an extra squeeze of their necks on "breakages", to be sure they got the meaning, before delicately setting them down on their feet. There was another moment of tension before...

*Author's note: Do feel free to edit these names in your head to more serious ones. I fear it is that time of night.

An old friend of General Banter walked in to the shop he was Dr.Grayson Beck,he worked in astronomy,but spent his spair time working in a home lab on a great discovery,but would not give any clue as to what it was.
He sat at a table in the middle of the room and stuck his nose in to a book with the title"The Note of Doom",he seemed to be looking for something inbthe huge tome,that did not seem to be thare.

"Banter!" squawked Dr. Grayson. "Good news!... I've successfully achieved time travel!"
"My God man! When did you do this?" asked Gen. Banter.
"Two months from now... but felt the need to tell you today...in light of things to come. At any rate, I'm off to stomp some butterflies if you get my meaning old man" said Dr. Grayson.
"You must tell me of these things to come! What happens in the next two months?" asked General Banter with a most concerned tone.
"These are things I fear I can't discuss without making them worse. It's probably bad enough that I've come back and told you this much..." said the doctor. "As for me, I'm going back to encourage my youthful self to enjoy something I missed out on years ago..."
"What would that be, doctor?" asked Banter
"Not what, but who...Elsa Langtree... need I say more?" replied the doctor.

"You old devil.... moving along then, Doctor, may I ask the significance of this book you bare?" asked Banter
"This, my good man, tells of the ultimate demise of us all... and I intend to avoid it's prophesy... with the time traveling, of course. I will attempt to find and eliminate the one key element that gets that nasty ball rolling. explained the doctor.

Banter cautiously thumbs through several of the ancient yellowed pages of the old worn leather book, careful not to damage the now fragile parchment. He stops and stares at one particular page as his skin goes white. "Doctor, this sketch...here...of this man... he looks amazingly like... you."

Indeed, it does. It appeares that I had/ have something to do with the writing of this tome some eleven hundred years ago from now.

Grayson, this can't be. I thought you were joking about the time travel. Surely you are putting me on.

Of course I am not, Banter. I would never joke about something this serious. I came here to not only tell you about this but to implore that you help me.

With that Grayson turned the page to another illustration and revealed to General Banter a lovely image of himself brandishing a sword at some sort of man in a kind of armor that he had never seen. The armored man had no sword but instead he held some sort of pistol in his hand. It was one unlike any Banter had ever seen and the illustration showed some sort of beam coming from its tip. Banter's head was reeling. He had engaged in many discussions with his friend Grayson many times regarding the possiblility of time travel but had never really taken it seriously. Now here was his friend showing not only proof but proof that Banter himself had moved in one way or the other in the timestream. Grayson sat at the table staring at Banter for a long time as the General sat staring at the ladies at the bar. Finally, Banter stood, doffed his hat and presented his hand to his old friend.

I am afraid, Grayson that I simply cannot take this seriously. I know you have a penchant for practicle jokes, but this one is the most elaborate I have ever seen. I commend you on your imagination, but I fear that I must be leaving.

At that moment the Lady in Mourning turned from the bar and whispered to him.

"Please, sir, take pity on me and remove me from these premisis."

"Madam", said Banter, "You have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know me, but I assure you, your identity quite escapes me if I have ever made your acquaintance."
She whispered, "Please, we must leave here and we can discuss this in a less populated venue."
Later, in a coach headed back towards Dr. Graysons laboratory, "My name is Elsa Langtree. I am from a time long before you wore born. I was a woman of means and societal stature until you both came into my life... sixty years ago. I was brought here, to this time in my far future, by Dr. Grayson... or should I say, the paradox Dr. Drayson - seeing that neither of you recognize me, for my own safety. Until yesterday, I felt sure that my savior would return for me and we would live out our lives in happiness... until I found his near 100 year old tomb in the graveyard at the edge of town."

Both men sat wide-eyed in silence until finally Dr. Grayson broke through the lull. "So, it seems I lay at rest just down the lane. What of my good friend, the General here. Does he share sure a fate as I?"

"I first met the General when you both came to me so many years ago. The last I knew of him, he had accompanied you on a quest to stop the destruction of all we know and the antagonists that dealt it. I dare say that if the General has met a demise, it was not a civil death."

"That's it! Rubbish!" exclaimed the General. "I will not be a part of this!"
The doctor replied blandly as he gazed into Elsa's eyes, "It seems, my good man, you already are... "

"What utter poppycock!" Banter exclaimed just as the carriage pulled up to Grayson's lab.

" We will walk into your lab and you will not be there, proving that you are both pulling some sort of prank on me."

With that Banter rushed through the door of Grayson's lab only to find Grayson sitting at one of his benches working on some sort of machine. Banter was stunned, he had just left Grayson outside the door paying the cabbie. Just then Grayson came in behind him.

" Banter, I really wish you had stayed outside and helped me pay the cabbie." Grayson looked around and saw himself sitting at the workbench and called out to himself "Hullo, Dr. Grayson"
To which he recieved " Hullo, Tim, I see you brought him back with you, along with the lovely Miss Langtree, Elsa, how have you been?"

Banter was completly dumbfounded and sat in a chair for several long minutes pondering exactly what had just happened. Finally, he stood and said to all present,

"Well then you lot, when exactly do we leave and what exactly am I supposed to do?"