Monday, 15 February 2010

Chapter 1 - Of Detective Hugh Damon

A totally-black Mini Cooper S-Cabrio slowed down from the motorway, to a parking spot in front of the Bourdain House – the heart of The Gentlemen’s Club in London. A fine gentleman in green suede was seen walking out of the Mini Cooper, looking rather astonishing as he slowly paced on the grey pavement, to the opening gateway of the century old building. He was soon standing in front of the modishly carved door – waiting calmly as he stands. “What’s the password?” a voice emanated from inside; asking politely in a broad English accent.

“Anything we committed inside should never be revealed outside.” He said calmly - while combing his lank auburn with dry fingers. The door shrieked opened, revealing an old butler with pale complexion; wearing royal velvet with matching pair of pants.

“May I take your coat off, sir?” The butler asked, placing his hands on the green suede.

“No thanks, my dear fellow. I’m on my way to meet a friend,” He said, grinning as he nudges away the butler’s hands from his suede. He calmly admired the luxurious decorations on the wall, as he was on his way to the cellar bar.


The comfortable cellar bar appears to be filled with three other gentlemen in various ages, but his eyes were fixed on Mr. Jesse Wilder – a former Field-Marshal of the British Army. Mr. Wilder was smoking Chocolate with cognac, and he appears to be sitting on a majestic red armchair. “May I suggest, Mr. Wilder,” said he, looking carefully at his cigar, “may I suggest that you take your cigarette away? That should just be enough for today.”

“Then it’s the murdering of joy for me, Hugh. Come, join me.” He said, with a careless gesture to invite Hugh Damon to the opposite seat. “Fancy a Chocolate?” he asked – politely handing the cigarette-box to Mr. Damon.

“I beg your pardon my dear friend, I don’t smoke,” Mr. Damon said; making the sign of disapproval.

Niles,” Mr. Wilder searched for the butler.

“What is it sir?” the butler hurried towards them.

“Would you care to get me some of those lovely foie gras, for my dear fellow?”

“Absolutely sir, I will go right away,” as Niles walked swiftly to the cellar, both of those fine gentlemen rolled their eyes on the fireplace.

“Thank you Mr. Wilder, may God place you under his blessings.” Mr. Damon said, with a grateful smile on his cold young face.

“Regarding Lord Drouhte, I think we should hold our meeting in your place Mr. Damon. What do you think?” he held out his Peruvian pipe.

“That sounds sweet, but I would prefer here. It is a lot safer here,”

“If that’s the case, we will meet again in Saturday then?” he said, emitting a polite smoke from the pipe.

“That would be more than perfect, Mr. Wilder,” Mr. Damon said “that would be more than perfect.”


Mr. Damon left the club after consuming some of those brilliant foie gras, served by the butler in velvet. After this, he will join Mr. Wilder in handling one of the most horrifying criminal in the history of all London; Lord Drouhte Von Grovovitch. He realises beautiful days would no longer be in his living diary after this. Not long before he slides into his Mini Cooper, the sound of loud orchestrated music banged the Bourdain House, which lead to an explosion; a massive mushroom cloud was formed up in the peaceful air of the Gentlemen’s Club, leaving imperfect remnants of the building in split seconds. “Good God, Drouhte!” he hoofed towards the burning remnants, bending down to a perfect halt “so, you really want to play fire with fire eh?”


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