You're Nicked

Master Devlin: Ah, Widdicombe...

wF: Excuse me?

Master Devlin: You heard.

wF: Waldo doesn't appreciate being named after that wizened little Conservative crone.

Master Devlin: Yeah, well, the Master is not interested in Waldo's appreciations

wF: Why not? And we were getting along so well. Why sour things now?

Master Devlin: Waldo must learn.

wF: Learn what?

The Master shrugs.

wF: I took a risk when I employed you Danny! Don't eat muffins while I'm developing you...

Master Devlin: Now look, you see here...

wF: No you listen to me Danny. I took a risk when I gave you this job. People must've wondered whats the deal with this sleazy dragon churning butter in his anus...Kidnapping young women and locking them in castle towers. Sleeping under piles of gold and jewels! "He's a loose cannon!" they'd say... But we gave you a chance, To be the best you can be. Which is you as part of a team. You want to be a team player don't you? Of course you do. So, now, as a team, I need you to put that faberge egg down and clean up that mess the Skunk left in the bathroom. Also I'm going to need you to work over the weekend. Can't be helped. So if you could just open and close over the weekend, that'd be great. Excellent, Well, then. I'll see you on Monday...

Master Devlin: Umm. I have a question.

wF: Yes?

Master Devlin: What job?

wF: Now you look here! I didn't hire you so you could be some joker. Now get back to work, wiseass... If you have any difficulties over the weekend, call the Skunk.

Master Devlin: I don't even remember being employed. What is this work place? What do we do here??

wF: Thank you, Danny, that will be all.

Master Devlin: I think I will go now. I clearly don't need this job if I have gold, jewels and faberge eggs.

wF: None of those things are yours but you do have sizeable criminal record - for theft, kidnapping and false imprisonment.

Master Devlin: Yet i am here. Free to leave.

wF: Only thanks to Wiffuhuh! We took you in. You leave and you'll wind up back in prison.

Master Devlin: Took me in where? Where is this??

wF: Stop acting the fool. Any more of your silly games and you're fired.

Master Devlin: Fired from what? Oh... Nevermind. Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn...

wF: Fine! You're fired. Get out!

Master Devlin: No bother. Wasn't even hired anyway.

The Master steps outside... whatever building this is. An attractive woman in ’80s attire approaches and flashes a badge.

Woman: Steven Devlin?... Detective Inspector Drake. You’ll have to come with us, sir. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be thrown in the bin... Blah blah blah... You're nicked!

The Master is arrested, handcuffed, and bundled into the back of a police van. He’s taken to Waldchurch East Station to be processed.

****

The Master sits in interogation, confused and annoyed. Detective Inspector Drake and Detective Chief Inspector Waldo walk in and sit down across the table.

DCI Waldo: Of all the crimes in this realm, we consider Regicide the most heinous...

Master Devlin: ...

DCI Waldo lays out several photographs before him. They depict the mangled corpse of some kind of large parrot.

DCI Waldo: Recognise him?

Master Devlin: ....

DI Drake: Reginald Van Der Beak. Raped and murdered. Discarded in a dumpster...

Master Devlin: I want my phone call...

DCI Waldo: It'll have to wait.

Master Devlin: Am I under arrest?

DCI Waldo: Yes.

Master Devlin: For?

DCI Waldo: You are under arrest for the rape and murder of this here dictabird. It's banging up scum like you that make this job worthwhile...

Master Devlin: ...

DCI Waldo: We have you dead to rights, Stan! We swabbed the bird's anus. DNA results came back with a match to you. If there's anything you have to add, now is the time...

Three men walk into the interrogation room, each carrying a briefcase.

DI Drake: We're conducting and interview here. Who the bloody hell are you?

Solicitor: We represent The Masters Council. You are illegally interrogating our client without counsel, and we demand his immediate release.

DCI Waldo: Illegally? This is the Waldoverse, son. I AM THE LAW!

Solicitor: You have denied him his right to a phone call and counsel.

DCI Waldo: We're not the bloody council. We're the police. You don't get phone calls here, fool! Where do you think this is? Earth One?

Solicitor: We demand you release him immediately.

DCI Waldo: On your bike, sunshine...

Solicitor: Either charge him or release him.

DI Drake: We are about to charge him.

Solicitor: With what evidence?

DI Drake: Your client's DNA was found in the victim's mouth and anus.

DCI Waldo: Plus we have motive, means and opportunity....

Solicitor: What kind of DNA?

DCI Waldo: Blood, semen and butter... All matching this dirty bastard right here! The bird obviously tried to put up a fight...

Solicitor: What proof do you have that it belongs to Master Devlin?

DCI Waldo: We have samples.

Solicitor: When were they taken? Did you consent, Master Devlin?

The Master shakes his head.

DI Drake: DCI Waldo has a large collection of Master samples dating back a century... But with this evidence, we can get a court order to take more samples if you insist.

Solicitor: You wish to use illegally obtained samples to justify a court order?? What kind of detectives are you??

DCI Waldo: The kind that get results!

DCI Waldo reaches across the table and yanks a handful of hairs out of the Master's arm.

DCI Waldo: Here, Bolly... Take these to the lab.

DI Drake: Yes guv.

DI Drake pulls a plastic bag out of her pocket and stuffs the hairs inside.

Master Devlin: DI Drake, do you know who it is you are sitting next to?

DI Drake: Yes, I do. This is DCI Waldo — a good friend and mentor.

Solicitor: A disgraced former officer who was served with a red notice...

DI Drake: Sod your red notice. He’s a great copper. The best I’ve ever worked with.

Master Devlin: He's a bent copper. And if there is any DNA evidence incriminating me, no doubt it will have been planted by him.

DI Drake: Whatever. I'll get these to the lab. Interview terminated.

Solicitor: Come along, Master Devlin. We are leaving.

The Master gets up.

DCI Waldo: No he's not. He's going to jail. And if you Council scum know what's good for you, you'll sling yer hook. Constable!

A Skunk Constable comes in and handcuffs The Master and attempts to lead him to the cell. The Goblin Brand handcuffs immediately fall apart and crumble into tiny pieces.

The Master and his legal team casually start walking towards the exit while the Skunktable gets himself stuck up against a wall.

DCI Waldo rushes down the hall and punches the lead lawyer in the stomach. As the solicitor is doubled over, DCI Waldo then sprays a full can of CS spray into his face. The lawyer screeches in agony as he stumbles backward, clutching his eyes. Meanwhile, skunkbreed officers swarm the corridor, seizing the remaining lawyers and the Master.

DCI Waldo: They’re all nicked! Accessories to aggravated buggery!

Master Devlin: Hey, Waldo, would you like some butter?

DCI Waldo: No thanks... We already got plenty of it in the lab that implicates you. We will has a cigarette though...

DCI Waldo lights up a cigarette as the lead lawyer still staggers around rubbing his eyes.

DCI Waldo: There there, Mr Solicitor man...Want one?

The Solicitor shakes his head.

DCI Waldo: Oh c'mon. It's good for you. It'll help dull the stinging.

DCI Waldo shoves a cigarette into the solicitor’s mouth and lights it with his lighter. The solicitor bursts into flames.

DCI Waldo: Oh...

DI Drake runs in with a fire extinguisher, sprays wildly, then kneels beside the charred remains.

DI Drake: He's dead, guv!

DCI Waldo: Don’t worry, Bolly... he was a baddy. Anyway... Oi, Officers! Take the rest of them bastards down to the cells, then clean up this mess...

Now if you’ll excuse me, Masta... DI Drake needs to be cleaned. She’s a dirty girl, and must be bathed. Station policy, y'see. Well, good night — and enjoy prison. They’ll love you there! Come on, Bolly. Let’s roll...

The Master sighs and shakes his head at the smouldering corpse as he's escorted to the cells without formal charge. Left alone, he casually lifts the brittle GB bars, steps out of the cell, and strolls out of the station.