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Monkey Island 5 - Operation Guybrush.
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Chapter 3: Help! I need somebody! Help!
Obeying Lechuck's demands as usual, Agley strides out to the ship with a purposeful air, whistling tunelessly and flexing his powerful muscular arms as he goes. He reaches the ship, and calls out, "Hey! Largo!" "Yeah" grunts Largo from deep within the bowels of the ship. "You've done a great job mate, I'll take it from here." Gradually, Guybrush gains consciousness.
Initially, only his powers of hearing return and he unwillingly eavesdrops on Largo and Agley's conversation. He hears the dull, steady thump of Algey's footsteps as he approaches, and feels himself being forced onto his stomach and his hands being bound excessively tightly behind his back by Agley. He attempts to shake Agley off while in a half conscious daze, his brain functioning, his eyes not, but Agley overpowers him with alarming ease. "Ha! You cannot escape, you pathetic specimen of a human being, so resistance is futile!" taunts Agley callously.
Suddenly, Guybrush feels himself being grasped aggressively by the neck in an iron grip and hoisted roughly to his feet. Instinctively, Guybrush lets out a strangled cry, spluttering and choking. Agley scornfully jeers "You wretched little pipsqueak. You call yourself a pirate? You make me laugh."
As his short speech draws towards its climax, his grip on Guybrush's throat tightens considerably and consistently throughout, so much that Guybrush genuinely believes that the remorseless thug behind him is about to break his neck. As Agley utters the final word however, the pressure on Guybrush's neck suddenly disappears. Slowly, Guy brush's eyelids flutter open and, as his eyes adjust to the dank, dingy half light of the hold, he spies a weapon
so potentially life threatening that the sight of it almost causes him to pass out for a second time. For Guybrush wakes to discover to his absolute terror, the left hand that had previously been practically throttling him had moved and was now maintaining a vice like crushing hold on the scruff of his neck that is distinctly uncomfortable, and makes it impossible for Guybrush to swivel round, thus effectively preventing him from either
escaping or even seeing his captor, but that is not what is causing him to feel incredibly panicky, oh, no. What truly terrifies Guybrush is the object that Agley wields in his other hand, the very sharp, pointed, serrated knife
being held to his throat, the very tip of the blade tickling his larynx.
For the first time in his life, Guybrush truly feels that his mortality is at stake, and actually is in fear of his life being taken.
Eventually, when the power of relatively competent speech returns to him, Guybrush stutters, "W-who are you and what do you want with me?" "I am Agley, and I personally don't want you for anything at all. In fact, I'd prefer to stay as far away from you as possible. Lechuck demanded that I
bring you here, Guybrush Threepwood, to meet with him" Agley replies in cool, detached tones. The mere mention of Lechuck sends a wave of freezing shivers down Guybrush's spine, and his mind desperately races with mainly obscure ideas to distract Agley. Agley rudely interrupts Guybrush's train of thought, interjecting, "You ARE Guybrush Threepwood, aren't you? It's my duty to check that we have the correct prisoner." Instantly, Guybrush sees a potential way out, and he clears his throat slightly, nervous yet fairly confident his plan will succeed. " I've, uh, I've never even heard the name
Guybrush Threepwood before, what kind of name is that? The name's Sheep good. Mancomb Sheepgood." Agley's eyes narrow barely perceivably, his brow furrowed as he contemplates the validity of Guybrush's claim. He is quite
worried that Largo, who Lechuck had told him many a time was an incompetent twit who had let Guybrush slip away from his clutches on too many occasions, has possibly captured the wrong person. His grip on Guybrush's neck lessens a little as he trys to remember the rather distinguishing information Lechuck told him about Guybrush. He racks his brains, and suddenly, it comes
to him. He distinctly remembers Lechuck telling him that Guybrush is petrified of porcelain, and, judging by the manner in which his prisoner is behaving when being exposed to porcelain at close quarters, finally realises
he has been duped. A silent, seething rage washes over him, and his primal instincts take over.
Keeping the deadly blade pointed at Guybrush's throat, Agley twists Guybrush's arms back, jamming them up against his spine, his left hand controlling the movements.
"I could break both your arms as easily as snapping a matchstick in two" hisses Agley softly, an air of infinite conviction and menace in his voice. "Get your stinking hands off me, you deranged creep!" yells Guybrush, in a
frenzied fit of desperation, his voice breaking with extreme terror and pain. "You don't give up easily, do you Mancomb?" spits Agley sarcastically, pulling his arms ever tighter and beginning to wrench and jerk them in
opposite directions. "Ahh, ow, ow, ow!! Oh, that really, really hurts! No! Stop, please! ! Agh! I'll, I'll be good, I promise, just let me go!"
Guybrush begs Agley, finally cracking under the immense pain of the torture session. Somewhat reluctantly, Agley releases Guybrush's arms, dropping them sharply, and grunts "C'mon then. Move it!"
As Agley walks Guybrush briskly towards Big Whoop, Guybrush's mind buzzes with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Secretly, he now knows that there is no way out of this, this living nightmare, and that ultimately, Lechuck will do unspeakable things to him. He shudders at the thought, the fact that it is inevitable, and wonders vaguely exactly what will become of him when he is passed into Lechuck's clutches. He momentarily allows his imagination to go into overdrive, and sees Lechuck looming over him, brandishing a voodoo doll that bears a spooky resemblance to him, dangling him upside down over a
pit of pure white porcelain, even forcing him to down a colossal barrel of Rum Roger's special grog in one single gulp. He forces himself to snap out of his daydream, and instead gazes ahead of him, focusing on the rapidly
approaching sight of Big Whoop. He squints at Big Whoop, trying to remember exactly why he vaguely recognises the place. As they are moving alarmingly quickly towards Big Whoop, and the only firm memories that Guybrush can
recollect are associations with Lechuck, which fill him with an awful, uneasy sense of dread, Guybrush contemplates the possibility of escaping.
First he rather frantically attempts to free his wrists from the rough ropes that bind him, but to no avail. He then experiments a little more cautiously with moving his arms about, ensuring that he attracts no negative
attention from Agley, and discovers that he is able to swing his arms up and back, his elbows jutting out. He decides that this is probably the best, indeed quite possibly the only tactic that gives him at least a chance of escape.
He calls out to Agley in as amicable a tone as he can muster, " Uh, say, can we stop and rest for a minute? My feet are killing me." Agley grudgingly grunts consent and halts abruptly, almost jamming the blade into Guybrush's
throat. He takes a deep breath, then, in sheer self defence, and in a rather spur of the moment manner, knowing that something exceptionally terrifying and horrific will ultimately occur if he simply allows himself to be herded into Lechuck's domain as an animal being led to the slaughter house, thrusts his arms back with all his might, elbowing Agley as hard as he possibly can in the stomach. Agley does not react in the expected, indeed the usual way, doubling up, clutching his belly and allowing his victim to beat a hasty retreat. On the contrary, he barely reacts bodily, his sole reaction being a slight ripple of the muscle across his taut, toned stomach. Hearing no sign of Agley being in any pain whatsoever, Guybrush panics, instantly regretting his rash actions. In the same instant, Agley growls, with grim, dangerous,
determination, "Right," his eyes becoming malevolent silts in his face. He grabs Guybrush's arms once again, and, tearing viciously at the flesh, pins Guybrush's arms up by his shoulder blades in a single swift movement. "You
just don't know when to give up, do you Threepwood?" hisses Agley with cold, heartless hatred in his voice. Guybrush is petrified, not because of Agley's sinister intonations, although that does not make him feel any more
comfortable with the situation, but because the blade that Agley wields is being pressed right against his throat, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but applying just enough pressure for Guybrush to finally fully realise that he is a doomed wreck, and that all hope is lost. Except.
Elaine. The only soul who could possibly save him from the wretched torrent of despair he is drowning in. Agley stamps his foot, impatient with Guybrush's perpetual daydreaming, and snarls venomously "I'm warning you
now, one more wrong move and." He removes the knife from Guybrush's throat, lifting it just a few millimetres above, and, with a sickening chocking sound, begins to draw the blade over Guybrush's precious neck. Our hero
realises that he has pushed the foul fiend too far and eventually relents.
"OK, OK, you win already! I'll go quietly. Geez, talk about overreacting!" Of course, using what little common sense he has, Guybrush drops his voice to a tone just below a whisper as he utters the last comment, and,
thankfully for him, Agley doesn't notice. With this, Guybrush returns to being marched towards his destiny.
Meanwhile, back on Melee Island, Elaine is still lying on her chaise lounge, now surrounded by a plethora of her closest friends clustering around her.
Sympathetic cries of "What on earth happened Elaine?", and similar phrases echo about the room. Elaine relaxes back on the sofa, beginning to enjoy all the attention her friends insist on lavishing on her. "My friends,
something terrible has happened.." Elaine pauses for dramatic effect, then continues " My dear husband Guybrush has been," she pauses again, but this time, more out of anxiety and fear. Taking a moment to compose herself, she
restarts her sentence with a slight sigh. "My dear husband Guybrush has been kidnapped, most probably by Lechuck" Her voice trails away into nothing, and she lies back on the chaise lounge, feeling utterly dejected. Her friends
crowd ever closer, cooing generally compassionate remarks. Elaine, tiring somewhat of the constant stream of affection and in need of some advice and answers, rather than simply idle gossip, Elaine forces herself to speak once more. "Look here, I just love him so much, I really want to do anything I can to help him, and I was wondering if, if any of you had any constructive suggestions?" A sudden silence falls over the party as Elaine's guests
consider the very limited possibilities for Elaine to help her husband.
After a very long minute, someone speaks up. "Elaine, it may be wise to visit the voodoo lady, she knows the past, present and future, so she'd probably be able to provide far more advice than any of us ever could."
An influx of suggestions meets these words, and eventually, after much bickering, cat fighting, and arguing, a solution is finally found. "OK Elaine, we've reached our conclusion as to what you should do now." The girl nominated for telling Elaine the plan beams, looking immensely proud of herself. "You should definitely try to find Guybrush, but, well, you will probably need to give up your job as governor and, also, more immediately,
go and find the voodoo lady." "Great" responds Elaine brightly, relieved that some constructive solution has now been found. "But, there is a slight problem.." the girl falters uneasily. "What?!" Elaine exclaims sharply.
"Well, we have reason to believe that the voodoo lady is no longer on this island.." Elaine gasps, struggling to control her emotions, knowing that she is on the verge of hysterics. Her mind flicks to Guybrush, the only man she
has ever truly loved, her reason for being, and she realises she must be strong, for Guybrush. She blinks back the tears that have been rapidly forming, and asserts, "Well, I'm going to the voodoo lady's former shop first, I might find something useful there. Then, I'll try to actually find the voodoo lady, and, with her help, track down and save my darling Guybrush."
She looks straight at her audience the whole time she is speaking, holding her head high proudly. She then drops her voice a little, still addressing her now rapt acquaintances. "Thank you so much. I am forever grateful to you all." Elaine whispers softly. "Farewell, my friends." And with that, Elaine sweeps out of her mansion to begin the adventure that will change her life indefinitely.