Left beaten, bloodied and bruised in a ditch somewhere, @MadMikeMarsbergen lost the Pot 1 Finals of SmackDown: The Second Coming to @torontojim (who later ended up winning the Grand Finals, too). Now he's back to get some revenge on all you competit...
Much to the chagrin of the guests below, Maximum Ernest Davies fell from the sky, the faint shadows of a handsome dirigible not some two-hundred meters above, resting in a nest of autumn clouds. Maximum, known to most of London as Mad Max flipped his tails as he landed on the outer courtyards of the floating Villa de Areñal, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder straps as he discarded what looked to be a canvas parachute with scalloped edges. Max, a gentleman in all regards, nodded salutations to the nearby guests and headed towards the Villa. He had a lady to rescue.
***
Sissy sat on the tufted velvet sofa, removed from the happenings of her father's party as politely possible. Her alabaster skin was handsomely offset by a crimson bolero and matching bodice. Though the air was crisp this close to the clouds, her fan waved gently in front of her face. She was evermore the most grateful for the dime store novel grafted into its folds by none other than that genius, Mad Max. Momentarily distracted from her reading, Sissy glanced around, pursing her lips. Max should have been here by now.
"My lady, why the long face?" It was Peter du'Conte, his father's reason for this party and the most hopeful suitor for her unavailable hand.
"Why Mr. du'Conte," Sissy said with a polite smile. "I was expecting a friend here tonight. It seems I have missed them."
Peter's dull brown eyes lit above a knowing smile, "Why my dear, you're not referring to the vagrant known as Mad Max, are you?" When Sissy did not respond, Peter continued. "Why this morning he met the most horrific of endings at the hands of the Westminster Monster. Poor fellow went in and never came out. The whole docks were a mess of metal and—"
Sissy snapped her fan closed and stood. "I am afraid that is just not true, Mr. du'Conte," she said as she brushed by him, headed outside into open air.
A flustered du'Conte nipped at her heels, "Whatever makes you think that?"
Sissy turned over her shoulder as she made her way to the end of the front yards, brushing past the partygoers towards a smartly dressed man with slightly windblown hair and a perfectly placed hat. When spotting her destination, Peter's eyes became like fire. "Because he's right here."
Max scooped Sissy into his arms, and initiated the jetpack strapped to his back with a smart flip of his wrist. "Good evening, my dear," he said with a wicked smile. "Miss me?"
Sissy settled into Max's arms, brows pinched above her pert nose, "Max," she started as they left the ground to the awe of onlookers in the yard below. "Where you eaten by the Westminster Monster this morning?"
Max chuckled, "Well my dear, he gave it his best shot."
Sissy reached up, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, "You're positively mad, Max."
