It was a crisp early spring afternoon. It had been quite a trip to get to Berlin but once he was there Basil Baxter took in the grandeur of the city. It had been a while since he?d been there. Of course he had made a brief stop in the 1940s, and during the great war Basil Baxter certainly was no stranger to these parts, but he'd most enjoyed his stay in the early 1700's, that is, until that wanker Friedrich I started building the pathetic temporal excuses for hospitals and spoiled all the fun. Of course it was still Prussia at the time. And obviously Basil Baxter didn't leave until the pathetic excuse for a king was dead. But still, it was good to be back, although Basil Baxter did note with distaste that the city had underwent quite a transformation.
But he was not there for a tour. There was a job to do. His loyal followers had paved most of the way, but Basil Baxter likes to finish jobs himself. So he ordered a cab and told the driver to bring him to the Berlin Zoo.
Outside throngs of kiddies, accompanied by parents with visibly frayed nerves (as is always the case whenever large packs of toddlers gather) were waiting in the pale sunshine. Large signs proclaimed that there was to be a movie premiere. This was just perfect. Basil Baxter loves movie premieres. He loves any reason for crowds to gather.
It was still a bit early, so to wile away the time he handed out cartons of cigarettes to the waiting kiddies. He tried to be covert about it, but parents being the misguided protective creatures they are, were bound to notice. Soon enough a couple of them had spotted him. They started to hold a long, heated, discourse at Basil Baxter regarding their feelings on the subject of toddlers smoking, their thoughts on cigarettes in general and Basil Baxter in particular. Basil Baxter wasn't really listening, but he nodded every few words or so just to keep them going because he had noted with approval that behind their backs their scrawny offspring had located a lighter.
When the doors to the venue opened, Basil Baxter made his exit. Fun as it had been, he could not stay. He even neglected to kill the distraught parents whom he left standing without another word. He was a One True Friend on a mission, and the mission took precedence. He was there to right a terrible wrong.
As the kiddies and their harried parents started queuing for tickets, Basil Baxter slipped into the zoo. His trusted allies had provided him with a detailed map so he could easily find his way to a large enclosure. He slipped 'round back without much trouble. There, waiting for him, stood a small forklift with a large crate on it. Inside the crate lay some fresh, dripping meat. All that needed be done was to pick some locks, open a few steel doors and lure the inhabitant of the enclosure into the box.
Basil Baxter drove the forklift to yet another backdoor. Here he picked another, much easier, lock. Meanwhile the kiddies had settled down, somewhat, in their seats and the parents were busy taking their little coping-with-toddlers-pills. (Mostly Valium, the occasional Vicodin and in the case of one strange older fellow, Viagra.)
Basil Baxter patted the crate. 'Well now Knutt. I came as soon as I heard. Here they are showing a movie in which you starred, and you can't even attend...' Basil Baxter opened the crate and watched as the large, surprisingly fast, Polar Bear made his way into the venue.
As Basil Baxter wandered away, looking for a cab, he heard the sweet sound of children screaming. 'Ah, spring? what a fine season!' he mused to himself as he rounded the corner.
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