Disclaimer: Attention, ladies and gentlemen, this is your writer speaking. Please ignore the following compulsory notice and skip straight to the story. I think we all know at this stage what's Marvels and what's not. There is zero [£0:00] cash being made from this so don't sue. Thank you for your attention.

Julian Garfield peered cautiously around the door of the Crown. Technically speaking, Les had forgiven him for trashing the place a few months back, but he still didn't feel safe going in on his own. He always liked to check that there was someone he knew inside before entering.

Today, as he looked in, expecting to find Doyle or Eddie at their table, he was shocked to find the Pub deserted. Not even Les was there. He stepped in, quickly surveying the Pub. He walked over to the bar and leaned over the counter. It was then that he heard the muffled shouts coming from the poolroom.

He tried to open the door but it was stuck, as if a heavy object were leaning against it. An object, like, say, a body. Julian could feel a panic rising. He tentatively knocked on the door. "Hello?"

He could hear shuffling behind the door and then it opened just a crack. Les's head poked out.

"Wot?" he snapped.

Julian was about to respond but he was interrupted by a voice from within the poolroom. "Les, who is it?" Julian thought it sounded like Doyle but he wasn't sure.

As Les turned to answer, Julian tried to see in but it was too dark.

"It's that Felix chap," Les answered.

"It's Garfield." Julian heard half a dozen voices yell.

"What's going on?" Julian asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Les reached out and pulled him rather roughly through the door. The door was then quickly shut again. It took Julian's eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness. There was only one window in the poolroom and it was very small and, like the rest of the Crown, was covered in grime. To add to this was the thin veil of smoke which was ever present in the pub.

As his eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, Julian could make out the dark figures crowded round the pool table, which of course was the main feature of the room. It seemed the pub's entire regular customer list had packed into the tiny room. The room's single light bulb swayed above the table. Julian suddenly felt himself being yanked by the back of his collar and dragged to the side. He was dropped into a vacant seat and he looked up to find Pete Wisdom in front of him.

"Be quiet," Pete instructed and Julian nodded.

He now had a better view of the table and he could see there was a game in progress. It was Cully from Black Air against either Pat or Connie from MI-19. They were twins and Julian was not yet able to distinguish between the two, even though every one else seemed able to.

As he took in the other faces around the room, he realised they were as always divided into their set groups. MI-19 and MI-5 A, C and F divisions crowded the far end of the room near the bathroom. The Radio division were by the door to the bar, while to his left was Pittman and to his right Doyle. Pete, Eddie and Jardine were standing behind Cully.

Julian nudged Doyle, who grunted as a response. "What's going on"?" he hissed.

"Inter departmental pool finale."

"Final? When did the comp start?"

"Yesterday morning."

"Yesterday morning! You mean you guys have been in here since then?"

"Yeah."

Julian just rolled his eyes. "So, what's the score?"

"Best of 3. This is the second game. Cully's up by 1."

"Who's yellow?"

"Connie."

As he spoke Connie took his shot and sunk two of his balls, leaving him just the black to pot to win the game.

There was a loud cheer from the other end of the room. Connie straightened up and turned to face his supporters waving one finger to them. Another round of cheers and shouts followed. Then the crowd began to chant, as Connie took his time to circle the table.

"It's coming home, it's coming home. It's coming ...." the crowd sang out.

"O please." Julian heard Eddie's voice cut through the din. "What is it with men? Anytime you achieve anything you have to drag football into it."

"Manchester united!" Someone sang out from the crowd.

"Flush 'im down the toilet." Someone else responded. "City rules."

"City? Dream on, up Arsenal!"

"No way, Rangers."

"How'd we get into the Scottish division?"

"Not Glasgow, Queenspark."

"QPR. Ha sad."

"Will you lot shut up!" Eddie yelled.

"Hey, just 'cause you don't like football, Eddie ..."

"Who said I didn't like football? I just think you're all wasting your time as we all know Liverpool are the best."

The room exploded, as they all exchanged insults. Then one voice broke through the racket. "Shut up the lot of yeah!" Connie yelled, banging the base of his cue on the floor. "Some of us are trying to win a pool tournament."

Silence descended quickly over the crowd, as Connie turned to face the table again. His buildup was slow. He circled the table, like a predator stalking its prey. When he found his spot, he eased himself into position, carefully sliding the cue along his nimble fingers. For all the slow dramatic buildup the actual shot itself was taken with lightning speed. The white sped across the faded green felt, striking the black exactly right and it rolled almost casually into the pocket.

One half of the room erupted and a chorus of 'Three Lions' was bellowed out yet again. Julian grinned as he saw Eddie roll her eyes and shake her head. The noise eventually died down and the balls were set up for the deciding game. A low murmur broke out among the audience as they waited for play to resume.

There was an eerie silence as the players made their way back to the table. Cully took his time setting up his shot but, just as he was about to take it, a loud yell came from the back of the room.

"Piss off you little worm!" Someone yelled from the end of the room. There was the sound of clothes being ruffled and feet shuffling. A few other people began to yell as they were pushed forward.

"That's my seat, now get out of it."

"Make me."

Everyone in the room was trying to see what was happening. Pittman yelled out from his seat beside Julian, "Keith, Adam, shut the hell up and let us get on with the game."

"Just a sec," one of the voices answered, followed by the sound of flesh on wood.

The other voices yelled angrily, "O, fine, take th... oops!"

A beer bottle sailed over the heads of the onlookers, almost in slow motion until it was stopped by an obstacle, which happened to be Cully's head. He dropped silently to the floor.

"Shit!" both Eddie and Pete yelled in unison, as they ran to Cully's unmoving form.

"Cully?" Eddie checked his pulse.

"O god, he's dead!" Jasper gasped.

"Hey, that means I win!" Connie exclaimed.

Eddie glared at him. "Your compassion is heartwarming. Unfortunately for you, he's very much alive."

As if to prove her right, Cully let out a loud moan and his eyes slowly fluttered open. He blinked a few times and frowned.

Concerned, Eddie asked, "Cully, do you know where you are?"

"Eh?" Cully mumbled.

"Name, rank, serial number," Eddie barked.

Don't shout, you bleedin' Liverpullin' witch," Cully barked back, as he tried to sit up.

Pete crouched down to help him. "How'd you feel?" he asked.

"Pretty crap actually," Cully reported, leaning heavily on Pete. "I don't think I can finish the match."

"Then I win!" Connie announced triumphantly.

"No you bloody well don't!" Eddie snapped, helping Pete with Cully. They escorted him to an empty chair and sat him down gently. "Jasper, take a look at him. Make sure everything's still working." She turned to find herself nose to nose with Connie. "Yes, shithead?" she purred sweetly.

"If he can't play on, then he has to forfeit the match. Them's the rules."

Jardine suddenly appeared beside Eddie. "Actually the rules say a member of the players' table can replace him as long as they haven't played already." "That's not much of a help, Jardine. All of us have already played," Eddie pointed out.

"One person hasn't."

Eddie looked to where Jardine was pointing and her jaw dropped as she saw whom he meant.

"Julian!" she exclaimed. "I'd rather forfeit."

"Well, I wouldn't," Pete said. "I'd rather get trashed than just give up."

"Me too," Doyle chimed in, giving Julian a push. "Come on, Felix, take your shot."

Julian stood up nervously. Eddie groaned and went to sit next to Cully. Pete pulled Julian towards the table. "Hey, Felix, there's no pressure here. Just try and break, ok?"

"I'll try," Julian stammered.

"Good on yeah," Pete said, and he shoved a cue into Julian's shaking hand.

Connie smirked as he walked by. The rest of the room's occupants remained silent, and stonedfaced, as he set up his shot.

He broke, instantly potting two reds. He didn't wait for a reaction from the floor but quickly moved around the table, taking a series of shots in rapid succession, potting a ball with each one. Even when only the black remained he didn't pause but took the shot while the last red was sliding into the side pocket. "Corner pocket," Julian announced as he struck the ball, and sure enough it rolled into the corner pocket. Julian calmly placed the cue on the table and beamed over at Pete, Eddie, and Cully, who just stared mutely back at him.

The whole room in fact was in a state of shock, no one so much as blinked.

Pete suddenly snapped out of it. "You bloody beauty!" he yelled, running over and slapping Julian on the back with such force Julian nearly lost his balance.

Eddie for her part just laughed at the expression on Connie's face.

"Hey, fork over the money," Pete said, addressing all of MI-19. There was some low grumbling among the men as they each placed some notes on the table. "Thank you," Pete said cheerily, plucking up the large wad of cash.

"And thank you," Julian said, taking the notes from Pete. He pocketed his winnings and quickly exited the room, leaving a very shocked Pete Wisdom in his wake. Pete turned to Eddie and Cully, and raised an eyebrow.

"You know," Eddie said as she slowly helped Cully to his feet. "I think there may be hope for that boy after all."