What If… The Avengers







“Unusual targets,” the broad shouldered man said as he looked across the table, “and tricky – but I believe we can meet your request, Dr Armstrong.  We will be in touch when we have your order ready for collection.”






“Professor Gale!”


The tall brunette turned and looked across the lecture theatre and said “Simpson – do you have that paper for me?”


“I do,” the research assistant said as he handed over the typed sheets.  As she read, he looked at her – head of the Department of Anthropology at Cambridge, Professor Catherine Gale was still a beautiful woman despite the grey starting to appear in her hair.  She was wearing a long sleeved dress with a pleated skirt, the top just open enough to reveal her chest, and long, tight black leather boots.


“hmm – I think some of these references are out of date,” she finally said as she smiled and looked up.  “Not your fault – I only got the proofs back from the printer for my new book before the lecture.  Come to my office, and you can pick it up for cross checking and referencing.”


“Of course, Professor,” the young man said as he hurried off,  Cathy smiling to herself as she cleared the board.  The last few years had been good ones – but sometimes, she missed the days when she was saving the world with her very special friend…


Leaving the lecture hall, she walked down the corridors and then walked out onto the street, drawing admiring glances as she walked through the college gates and up to her rooms.  It was only when she opened the doors and let herself into her well appointed rooms that she realised something was amiss.


Everything was where it should be, and yet…


The noise behind her alerted her to the presence as she reached round, flipping the man over her shoulder and throwing him down onto the floor on his back.  He was tall, and well built, dressed in black – but he smiled as he looked up and said “hello Mrs Gale – Intergang send their regards.”


“Oh come on, that’s in the past,” Cathy said as she looked at him.  “What are you anyway – the warning?”


“No – the diversion.”


Cathy stared at him, and then opened her eyes wide as the damp, sweet smelling cloth was clamped over her nose and mouth from behind.  She reached up, clawing at whoever was behind her as she struggled, but eventually her eyes closed and hr body relaxed into his arms.


“Ball tie her.”


As she was lowered to the floor, the first man picked up a bag and took several lengths of brown rope out.  He started by securing her wrists together in front of her, and then her ankles before her legs were bent and her arms put over her legs.  As he bound her wrists to her ankles, the second assailant bound her arms tightly to her sides, and then took the rope under her thighs to further immobilise her.

Finally, a rolled scarf was pulled between her lips, before she was lifted ad placed in a laundry basket, sheets covering her before the men looked at each other.


A few minutes later, students watched the two workmen as they loaded the trolley into a laundry van, and then drove off…





Peel Industries had recently moved to a new complex on the outskirts of London, and as the Lotus pulled up in the named parking space some of the passing workers looked over and smiled.  The Managing Director had obviously returned from the troubleshooting mission in Cartagena.


She had shoulder length black hair, and was wearing a black bodysuit with elbow length sleeves and a scoop neck.  Round her waist was a leather belt with a chain fastening at the front, and her legs were tucked into a pair of over the knee black leather boots.


She smiled as she walked quickly to the main entrance, the uniformed man at the entrance standing and saluting as she walked in.


“Mrs Peel – this is an unexpected pleasure, we were not expecting you until Monday.”


“Job finished early,” she said with a smile, “I need to check something in the research lab.”


“Of course,” the man said as she walked to a set of lift doors behind the reception desk, tapping her foot as she waited for the lift doors to open.  The corridor was quiet -  a little too quiet, making her feel on edge as she walked along the clinically cleaned floor.


So when the two men stepped in front of her, dressed in black and wearing dark glasses, Emma just shook her head and adopted a defensive stand, using her well know martial art skills to fend off their attack.  It brought back memories of the old days, of standing beside him, of when Peter was missing…




The blow to her neck took her by surprise, as her eyes rolled up and she dropped to the floor.  The third man nodded as he said “get the gurney…”


The workers returning from lunch saw the two doctors load the gurney into the back of the ambulance, wondering what had happened.  Had they looked closer, they would have seen Emma Peel on there, her wrists taped to the side with medical tape, and tape over her eyes and mouth.  They would also have seen on the second gurney the bound and gagged woman in the floral dress.


“Two down.”


“Yeah – now it’s over to the international groups…”





“I must say I was surprised to get this invite to dinner,” the dark haired man said as he sat at the table at the Savoy.  “But it has been a real pleasure to talk over old times.  You are a coroner now, Geoffrey?”


“I am indeed,” the other man said, his dark hair balding in the middle of his head, “and I loved your new exhibition, Venus.”


“Thanks,” the small blonde said, “but we did want to catch up.  Do you hear from any of the others?”


“From time to time,” he said with a smile, “but I am a horse breeder now.” 


The other two smiled as memories came back…




Montreal is a quiet little city, but sometimes those who live there and are not involved in politics attract attention – such as the chestnut haired woman who was walking down the street, her large hat covering her head.  She was wearing a mustard coloured blouse and a short black skirt, a wide black leather belt with silver metal trim round her waist.  A pair of over the knee tight black leather boots completed her outfit.


Ever since the end of her assignment to the UK, Tara King had worked undercover for the Canadian intelligence community – and she had taken the lessons she had learned from hm to heart.  Their time in that rocket orbiting the earth had been – educational in so many ways.


So when she saw the Pontiac following her in the reflection of the shop windows, she wondered which group was after her this time.  Sighing, she moved the strap of her handbag over her head so that the strap sat across her chest, and continued to walk down the road, before turning down an alleyway.


The car came to a stop, two men getting our and walking down the alleyway – but there was no sign of her in the road.  At least, they failed to notice her in the alcove before she stepped out behind them, and knocked them both out with the cosh she had removed from her handbag.


“Amateurs,” she said to herself as she walked to the other end of the alleyway – only to stop as she saw the four clowns performing on the street.  They were dressed in the circus style, as Tara stopped to look at them.


“You have got to be joking – at least they…”


Her eyes opened wide as she felt the pinprick in her leg, aa two for the clowns walked over and held her up, the crowd around them clapping as the other two bowed, and they all walked to a waiting van, carrying Tara inside.


They then grabbed some ropes and sat her o the floor of the van, two of them securing her wrists behind her back as the other two bound her legs and ankles.  Removing her hat, they then wrapped rope around her upper arms to hold them in place, and then gently pushed a cloth into her mouth before covering her lips with brown sticking plaster.


The van drove off, as Tara slept, unaware of what had happened to her…







“Thhlmhhbhtht,” Emma said as she twisted round.  She was now tightly bound with ropes, sat in the chair of the airplane as Cathy sat opposite her.  “Shhesdhnnths?”


“Nhhddheee – whssths?”


“Hmhghddd,” Emma mumbled as the clowns carried the bound, gagged and unconscious Tara onto the plane, sitting her on the other side as they heard the engines start up.









“No, Peter, I can assure you I have not seen Emma since we had dinner last month,” John Steed said as he looked out of the window of his Chelsea Mews flat.  “Nor is she active.  You have not had any communication?


“I see – leave it with me,” he said as he put the receiver down, and then picked it up again.


“Professor Gale, please…”




“Miss Wilde!  Over Here Please!”


Hannah Wilde smiled as she turned and posed in front of the classic cars.  Her career as a model had taken off recently, and as she posed in her purple velour playsuit, with long sleeves and hot pants, she was as happy as she had ever been.


The over the knee white boots also helped her look, as she tossed her chestnut red hair and posed again.  She had never dreamed she would be this successful – but then her friend had recommended her to an agency, after they had both been through the adventure of a lifetime, and now there was no stopping her.


“Thank you everyone,” her assistant said as Hannah waved and walked from the display floor, sighing as she said “where’s the next event?”


“Across town, in a couple of hours – you’ve got time for a tea before we head off.”


“Good – I’m parched.  The usual blend?”


“Fortnum and Mason – whoever this guy you met was, he has expensive tastes.”


“Nah – just taste,” Hannah said as she sat down in her room, and poured the brown liquid into the white china cup.  She then looked at the cup, and said “are you sure this is the right blend?  It tastes bitter.”


“Oh it is the perfect blend for you at this moment, Hannah,” her assistant said as she took the cup from her hand, Hannah blinking and then her head rolling to the side as her eyes stayed open.  She smiled as she tore some clear tape from a roll and pressed it down over Hannah’s mouth, before saying “stand up”.


Hannah stood, slowly as the other woman produced a length of white cord, and then took her employer’s hands behind her back, binding them together before she fastened a cape round her, covering the binding before she opened the door.


“Come,” she said quietly, “your car awaits…”






“No, Mother, I have not heard from her either – and I am concerned.  Where is Gambit at the moment?”


John Steed nodded as he said “let him know I’m coming to find him – Venus is safe?


“Good – I will be in touch…”






The three bound and gagged women twisted in their seats as Hannah was sat opposite Tara.


“One more – patience, ladies, your final destination will be reached soon…”



“Dr Armstrong?”


The grey haired man turned to see a tall, broad shouldered man with dark curly hair looking at him.




“Me – and him?”


Armstrong turned to see the second man, dressed in the grey suit with dark collar, smiling as he tipped his hat.


“Hello – again.  Now, why don’t you tell me why you have employed the services of Objects of Beauty?”







As the two hard clay discs were hurled into the air, she raised the shotgun to the shoulder and followed their flight path, firing twice as they exploded in mid-air.


“Well done, Miss Purdey,” the man said as she opened the barrel, smoke escaping as she did so.  Purdey was wearing a peach coloured slip dress over a black jumper, and over the knee black leather boots.


“Given I am not exactly dressed for clay pigeon shooting, it wasn’t too bad,” she said with a smile as she  handed the gun to a bearer, and walked over to the jeep.  The call that morning had been unexpected, but she had prepared herself as requested.


So when she sat in the back of the jeep, and she was driven off, she was expecting a car to drive them off the road, or a shot to take the tyre out.  She was not expecting to hear a soft hiss, or the inhale the gas that made her slip into a deep sleep…


The jeep pulled up towards a waiting van, two men in black wearing gas masks getting out and pening the rear door before they carried the unconscious woman out between them.  They carried her into the rear of the van, laying her on the back before they bound her wrists together in front of her body, her ankles and legs together, and then covered her mouth with silver tape.


“Where’s the plane?”


“Local airstrip – let’s go…”



As the small plane waited, the van drew up, the two men carrying the bound and gagged woman into the cabin as the other four watched.


“Is that them all,” the man dressed in black answered as Purdey was strapped in.


“That’s them – ready for delivery.”


“Good – inform head office the commission has been completed.”


The two men nodded as they got off, the third man closing the door before he said “all right, I did what you asked.”


“Very good,” Gambit said as he looked at him, “now sleep.”  The blow to the back of his neck sent him sprawling, as he looked at the others.


“Forgive me if I do not free you just yet, someone wants to say hello…”




The South of France


Purdey opened her eyes and looked round at the other four women.




“Dhntphnhc,” Emma said as Purdey felt the bump of the plane landing, and then coming to a stop before the cabin door was lowered.  She watched as she heard footsteps – and then sighed as she saw the older man walk in.


“Ladies,” Steed said with a smile, “I think you deserve a short break and a chance to talk together.  Allow me to free you…”







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