She was incredibly nervous. Why did he want to meet with her? Why face to face? Why now?
She shifted uncomfortably. She was a Forum Star, she didn't cope well in direct sunlight. But his final PM had been spectacular in its clarity.
Things hadn't worked out as they should, but the plan hadn't been a complete failure. So he escaped before he finished telling her the meaning. But now they had another clue, no-one had known about the Derek Acorah influence before - surely that should count for something.
He would be angry.

*****

Coops adjusted his baseball cap and hoodie and donned his dark glasses before approaching her. She was waiting for him. As instructed she was alone and wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with 'I want Gloves for Christmas'.
He walked forward and spoke in a gruff whisper, "What is it that all magicians smell of?"
"Parma violets", her reply was swift and assured. She paused for a moment before adding a question of her own, "Who is the forum mascot?"
He hadn't been expecting this. For a second he couldn't think straight. How do they remember all this rubbish?! Shit.
Just as the panic set in he had a breathtaking moment of clarity, "Digby." The pick-pocketing parrot.
She nodded to him.
She looked nervous, that wasn't really remarkable. She had failed him. She should be scared.

*****

Across the road, he stood in the shelter of a doorway. The one they called Roy. He was tired, he hadn't slept and he was starting to look disheveled. He had work to do, they wouldn't catch him out again.
He couldn't hear what they were saying from this distance, he would have to get closer. He needed to know how influential Coops had been in this ruthlessly evil plot.
He adjusted the headband he'd made by tearing a strip of cloth from his tour T-shirt and moved forward stealthily.

*****

"Spook?" she asked.
"Yes." He replied. That had been the username he'd adopted on the forum when he was masterminding this cunning plan.
He watched as her face took on a look of quiet defiance. That won't last long. A little longer though, first he needed to confirm what she had learned. He inched closer, "Well?"
He'd heard it all before from Derren, but he needed to know the truth of it.
"He tried hoodwinking me," she sounded angry, "he was going to claim it meant Chimpanzee! I wouldn't stand for it though."
Coops nodded to her and concealed a smirk of satisfaction.
"I did learn something new though." She continued.
"Oh? What?" He moved even closer, unable to hide the urgency in his voice.
As she recounted the nonsense that Derren had mumbled to her his smirk broadened into a smile. So Derren still didn't suspect there was more to it. Good.
He lifted a hand and removed his sunglasses. Her expression was glorious as the shock of recognition dawned.
"Do you want to know the truth?" He knew that she did. It was an obsession with her. The promise of an answer would be enough to keep her under his influence he was sure of that. "Come with me. I will tell you everything."
He noticed her quick glance at the blue sky.
"Don't worry," he murmured as he led her away, "a little sunlight won't hurt you."

*****

Her mind was reeling. It was impossible. Coops. She barely heard what he was saying. Something about sunlight. A frown creased her delicate forehead, the words had seemed reassuring but the way he spoke held a suggestion of nastiness.
Inside her mind a battle raged. The possibility of learning what that word meant was breathtaking. The horror of Coops' betrayal of Derren was outrageous.
She hadn't been paying attention to where they were headed; too distracted by the monumental revelation. Too relieved at once again being in a darkened room.
Now, as she looked around at the interior of the mausoleum, the true cost of her susceptibility finally hit her.
An extraordinary calm stole over her as she resigned herself to her fate. There was no-one else to blame, yes she had been influenced by this man but she had allowed herself to be consumed by a lust for knowledge. The desire to know the truth had been embedded in her mind. There was no way out.
There was a flash of steel. The blade coming towards her at an astonishing speed looked fantastically sharp.

*****

Damn. He'd lost them. He crouched behind a stray wheelie bin for cover as he scouted the area for any sign of the traitor and the minx.
He wasn't going to give up that easily though. Not the one they called Roy. His determination was incredible. He couldn't let them get away.
Inexplicably he turned his attention to the distant churchyard. He ran across the road and quickly dived behind the nearest gravestone. Then he spotted it. The door to the mausoleum was ajar. He crawled towards it triumphantly. But it was empty.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
It was an oddly disquieting masterpiece.
The words HEROIC BANE were scrawled across the floor. In blood.
He had come too late.

*****

Derren waited patiently. Coops was late. Again. It was not unprecedented, but still it was an annoyance. He had thought at one time that he could be influential in making Coops more punctual, but that hope had faded long ago.
He had no reason to suspect that Coops was under a far more sinister influence.

It was no good. He simply couldn't wait any longer.
Derren picked up his favourite frock coat and opened the door. There was a plain white envelope lying inexplicably on the mat. He didn't recall hearing anyone come to the door.
Puzzled, he opened the envelope and unfolded the paper inside. Two words were written in bold, black ink: AEROBIC HEN.
He didn't have long to contemplate the astonishing message, as he stepped out of his front door he was accosted by an extraordinary sight.
"Des, is that you?" He asked uncertainly, "Did you know you've got shoe polish on your face?"
And is that a headband he's wearing?

*****

The knife clinked triumphantly as it dropped, clean and shiny once again into the cutlery drawer. He was now in her power, under her menacing influence.
There had been a fantastically breathtaking fight. Neither had escaped completely unharmed. His one monumental mistake was simply that he had underestimated her.
Her kunoichi skills were remarkable, the martial techniques embedded through years of practice. Most people who met her would dismiss the suggestion that she knew the ninja arts as incredible, outrageous - impossible even!
I have been hoodwinking people for years, making them think I am weak and harmless.
She smiled at the thought.

*****

Coops sat huddled miserably in one corner of the room. His hands and feet were bound with silken rope and he had been gagged securely. He had thought he was masterminding a breathtaking plan to expose the forumites for what they really were - ruthlessly evil.
It had seemed to be going so well. He had joined the forum. Put up with the jibes and insults that were only to be expected as a newbie. A couple of months was all it took to identify the truly influential troublemakers. Their glorious obsession with that word only increased their susceptibility to his scheme. He had sought to influence them into showing their true colours.
He had considered it unprecedented in its spectacular cunning. All he'd wanted to do was help Derren. To show him that the forum was an incredibly dangerous thing.
How right he'd been.
He struggled feebly against his bonds. She had made him tell her everything. He had tried to be brave, to stay silent but in the end he couldn't help himself. Those things that she did. they would have influenced anyone to tell her what she wanted to know.

*****

A contented sigh escaped her lips as she completed her latest masterpiece. She wasn't sure how influential this would be, but it was a start. She reviewed her handiwork, in neatly torn newsprint:
HE BARE ICON

Stephen [S] "Influence?"

Derren [db] "No!"

[S] "Incredible?"

[db] "No!"

[S] "Influence?"

[db] "You've already said that!"

[S] "Sorry, OK, how about - Remarkable?"

[db] "No!"

[S] "Hoodwinking?"

[db] "Nope!, do de do de do!"

[S] "mmm! - Influential?"

[db] "Nah!"

[S] "am I even getting close?"

[db] "not giving up already, Stevie?"

[S] "how about Glorious?, that's it isn't it?"

[db] "No!"

[S] "Unprecedented? "

[db] "No!"

[S] "give me a clue then?"

[db] "No can do!"

[S] "ahhhhhhhhhh!"

[db] "keep going, you're bound to get it eventually!"

[S] "Susceptibility?, Spectacular? Obsession? Fantastically? "

[db] "No, No, No and No!"

[S] "I give up!"

[db] "What?, come on try a few more?"

[S] "Monumental?, Influenced?, Inexplicably? Outrageous?, Embedded?, Breathtaking?, Masterpiece? "

[db] "alright, alright, steady on......eh!, No!, none of the above!, he he he"

[S] "I don't want the prize anymore, I give up!"

[db] "Just try a few more, you're getting close!"

[S] "am I"

[db] "No!"

[S] "arrrrgh!"

[db] "come on!"

[S] "Incredibly?"

[db] "Yeeeeeeeee.......NO!"

[S] "Impossible?"

[db] "Na!"

[S] "Breathtaking?"

[db] "said it already, sorry!"

[S] "Masterminding?, Extraordinary?, Influential?, Ruthlessly?, Astonishing?, Triumphantly,"

[db] "None of them, and you already mentioned influential"

[S] " That's it, I'm done....what is your favourite show word?, tell me NOW?"

[db] "No!"

[S] "Please!"

[db] "may I make a Suggestion?"

[S] "What?"

[db] "why don't you go ask the lovely forum people to write you a story and see if they come up with the word?"

[S] "then will you give me the prize?"

[db] "Yes, Stephen, then you get prize, now run along........"

The searing sun beat down on the backs of the people in the queue; the queue for the men's toilet. It was an unusual affair, a sight only witnessed several times in the history of mankind, but could Derren use his influence, his incredible influence to somehow hoist the man from his locked sanctuary, I mean cubical, pull him over the door and, in a remarkable stunt, manage to send him careering through one of the already partially smashed windows? He was desperate, that desperate.

Derren tried to take his mind of the subject matter in hand - well, that's where he pretended it was - and proceeded to let his mind wander: "Think of an animal, think of an animal" he repeated; the words circling round in his head like a merry-go-round whose break pipe had been severed by a group of unscrupulous youths. Faster and faster the words spun round and round, until suddenly, they stopped. It took Derren a few nano-moments to realise the cause for the sudden abruption of the cascading parade that had been swirling around his head. For, a slight man had tapped Derren on the left shoulder and announced in a broad Norfolk accent that Derren needed to look after his suitcase while he dipped into the bushes to relief himself. Derren knew this must have been a devious hoodwinking exercise, possibly orchestrated by the Mafia, but Derren had more urgent matters to contend with and reluctantly agreed. However, the influential man had barely swivelled half way round to the direction of the undergrowth before he stated "This isn't quite fair". Monumental bewilderment was etched upon Derren's face, but this shortly turned into a slightly vexed look as he realised he had turned slightly too quickly and could feel a warm sensation tingling down his leg. "Good job mother made me wear those glorious, rather sexy plastic socks this morning" he thought, whilst uttering "Act natural, act natural" to himself.

The man proclaimed that if Derren were to look after his suitcase then Derren must give him a deposit in return, before muttering something about Croydonians being untrustable. Derren was going to think long and hard with regards to the unprecedented request, but the man in the cubical was on the forth verse of Land Of Hope And Glory so he knew he would be standing in line, be it in a pool of something, for some time to come, so Derren reluctantly agreed. He didn't, however, agree to the handing over his watch - something about it being useful later on - so instead handed over his ring.

The man scurried into the bushes - some of the rather anxious men in the queue could swear they heard the man mumble "As easy as that" to himself - but Derren refused to stoop to the same susceptibility of the people below him, for he had been brought up as a gentleman and continued to hop from one leg to the other while beads of perspiration dripped from his face. This gave Derren a spectacular idea: hopscotch.

By now the queue was increasing exponentially - no idea why - thus there were enough men to create rival groups to play hopscotch. Derren was in his element and split the men into five groups, assigned each group either a black or white stone and drew out the hopscotch grid in the dirt outside the public convenience, even though it was anything but convenient. Derren's obsession for straight lines could clearly be seen as he whipped out his protractor to ensure each square was at right angles. There was also broken glass on the grid that Derren removed; he didn't want to walk over broken glass - that would just be silly.

Derren knew how competitive men were at any game - the game of tiddlywinks which resulted in an over night stay in hospital for which he had reoccurring flashbacks of sprang to mind - so Derren kept score using his fantastically good, absolutely brilliant. wait for it. drum roll please. clipboard.

All was going well until a monumental dispute erupted. The argument was over whether one of the stones landed in box number five or box number six. A fight broke out. Punching, kicking, shouting, swearing. But then Derren was slapped in the face. He had a sudden urge to count the number of pebbles on the ground - he had always been a strange child - but knew the game he had loved so much as a child had gone too far, so he waved his hands in the air, looking for some sort of signal, I suppose, but to no avail.

Derren was still desperate and wanted to wait for the man who was still using the toilet - he was now onto Auld Lang Sine - so Derren reluctantly gave up, realising his influence wasn't as good as it used to be.

The man with the suitcase had inexplicably vanished, along with Derren's Elizabeth Duke ring, so he decided to open the suitcase. It was a number lock combination. That rather perplexed Derren, so instead of trying different combinations he resorted to throwing stones at the case. That didn't work so he decided to use his platinum-coated protractor to slide between the lock. For the basis of this story, let's assume this outrageous strategy worked, for I'm sure no one could ever eke out the opening of a lock.

Derren popped the case open and found there were five coloured envelopes; each marked 'Top Secret'. Derren's overwhelming desire to go to the toilet which had been embedded in the forefront of his mind suddenly drifted to the back as he tore open the envelopes. Inside four of the envelopes were artefacts which seemed to be breathtakingly unconnected, and the last envelope contained a map, but a map for what Derren was unsure of. Maybe it was a masterpiece, a plan for a wider, incredibly dangerous strategy. But Derren dismissed this preposterous, maybe impossible idea, for why would the man leave the suitcase with Derren? Derren thus concluded that the envelopes were intended for his eyes and for him to solve.

The blue envelope contained one sheet of newspaper, the yellow one contained a nail, some strange cards with wiggles on were in the green envelope and a few buttons were in the red envelope. The orange one, however, contained the map. Derren wondered if the suitcase contained any thing else; it seemed so bare, but as soon as he had dismissed the idea he found a hidden compartment. Derren lifted the flap to reveal the section and found one walky-talky and one compass.

Derren knew what this meant - he would soon be embarking on an orienteering exercise. But the masterminding behind the extraordinary exercise was still a mystery, one that intrigued Derren and was something he knew he had to solve. Derren decided he would harvest all his influential power to solve what seemed like a impossible mystery. He decided this was an impossible feat even for him, so summed his faithful, yet ruthlessly clever assistant, Coops. With a click of the fingers the loyal Coops appeared from nowhere. Why Derren hadn't done this when he was in desperate need a few moments earlier we shall never know; perhaps it had something to do with the joke circulating about Derren's reliance on Coops and his inability to wipe his own arse.

Coops' idea was remarkably simple: say "Hello" into the walky-talky. Derren was astonished at the simplicity of the idea and pondered a little why he only paid Coops a pittance. He didn't, however, have to think for too long - the answer was straightforward - Derren spent all his money on dead animals to line his home with.

Only a small amount of time elapsed when a crackly reply over the walky-talky was received: "Hello, hello. Can you hear me?" Derren snatched the device from Coops and replied. The deep-voiced man on the other end would not answer any of Derren's questions or concerns, and triumphantly responded "Connect the clues in the envelopes, follow the map and the answer you so eagerly yearn for will be found."

Derren and his Nobacherie knew they had to follow the man's suggestion to solve the clues and began their quest by heading in a south-easterly direction.

To be continued.

Derren Brown: A Wizard's Tale

Even though he wasn't under the influence of any alcohol, Derren felt absolutely incredible today. Sitting in the park in the sunshine, he was contemplating ways to enhance his act. He needed to find a way to bring people under his influence without all that time-consuming hypnotic induction. Perhaps he could find a single remark able to put girls into an immediate trance, reinforcing his authority and manhood, winking at them and having them fall at his feet? He liked that idea. He drew a breath, absently-mindedly tapping the pen against his teeth.

********************

Being able to speak Parseltongue is nice but, although I remain fluent, I allow myself to occasionally lapse into ignorance, especially when surrounded by muggles. On this glorious day, however, I had taken the unprecedented step of using it to warn an adder away from the young man that it was stealthily sneaking up on. He was completely unaware of his susceptibility as he sat cross-legged in the grass, sucking on the end of his pen and obviously deep in thought. The snake reared up spectacularly, but then skulked away, casting a backward glance in my direction as if to accuse me of ruining its fun.

*********************

Derren, distracted from his work and now planning a debauched BYOB session at his apartment, pondered over whether he was going to invite Coops again. The bloke was a fantastic ally, but he usually ended up getting absolutely hammered on lager and lime and throwing up in places that Derren would only discover the next morning. He suddenly saw movement out of the corner or his eye. A snake! Okay, it was going away, but a snake! And it wasn't a stuffed one! He jumped up, scattering all the loose pages from his notebook, and accidentally caught a passing man with his flailing arms. The man was shocked and surprised.
"Hey mon, u mental?" he drawled in a thick Jamaican accent.
"Oh yes," said Derren, "all the time."

**********************

Influenced by the events of the last Harry Potter book, I continued to watch the young man, having apparated a safe distance away. He seemed to be having an argument with a Rastafarian. I couldn't believe I was on a surveillance mission after I had, inexplicably, been fired from the Ministry of Magic. It was an outrage; ousted in favour of Godwyn the Hairy who, it would seem, bedded half of the officials in order to get my job. It was a breathtaking piece of cunning. I wished I'd thought of it myself, as I pondered over the apparent display of mental prowess which was occurring across the park.

**********************

The man with the dreadlocks screamed..
"Okay, mon, I admit it! You are the master! Piece, mon, peace!". He rubbed his temples; "You should have a plan to take over the world or something!"
Derren smiled an incredibly serene smile, and struck an 'I am all-powerful' pose, careful to conceal the fact that this was indeed his true aim. "Possible," he mused, "possible, but we wouldn't want rumours like that spreading, would we?"
He drew a long, slow breath, taking in the warm summer air, and watched the man stagger away, holding his head and muttering about the coming of the master.

***********************

Minding my step, I skirted around the bottom of the oak tree I was standing under so as to get a better view. This was definitely the young man the ministry had been talking about. He had something undefined about him, something extra. Ordinary as he seemed, his magical powers were truly astounding and he needed to be taught how to control them before he blew up someone's head. I had to make my move, before it was too late.

************************

Inwardly congratulating himself on his influential status, Derren was shocked to discover that he was suddenly no longer alone. Standing in front of him was a strange-looking girl wearing crushed velvet and staring at him intensely.
"You must come to Hogwarts," she said, urgently, "it's where you belong. Where all magical folk belong. We can teach you to hone your skills, and control your power."
Derren cocked his head.
"More truth, less lying," he said simply. "I can tell when you're lying."
"But I'm not..." She was stopped in mid-sentence by an astonishing piece of sleight of hand from the magician. He was suddenly holding a wand. She thought she recognised it as plywood and parrot-feather, but she couldn't be certain.
"Shit." she said.
He raised the wand triumphantly, and five seconds later was looking with pride at a stuffed ginger cat sitting at his feet.
"Hogwarts," he sniffed, as though the very suggestion was distasteful. "I am ready to be known as Dr Cerebro Vortwinn, the Dark Lord's right hand man!"

He laughed maniacally and went to find the snake, as muggles all over London clutched their heads.