It was a dark and stormy night...Commuters hurried through the wet streets of London, dodging puddles and gingerly avoiding the flooded drains. It had been raining for almost two days and the inhabitants of the old grey city were fed up. The buses were filled with wet travelers steaming up the windows with their moist warmth. Each cafe and pub was crammed full of sodden individuals squeezing dripping umbrellas between their chairs and shedding damp overcoats in an desperate attempt to seek some relief the tempest in the streets outside. By Friday, most Londoners were contemplating a weekend indoors infront of the television eating warm food and perhaps taking a hot bath or two. A lucky few were rushing to the airport to escape to a tropical paradise or to explore an old little town in some Mediterranean destination.

Unfortunately for Eugene Burke he was not one of the happy few who would be leaving Heathrow that night for a weekend of fun in the sun. Eugene, a short man with black hair, who rather resembled one of his caveman ancestors, was an employee for Transport for London. He was stuck working another full 4 hours at Embankment Tube station, helping shell-shocked tourists, impatient communters and attempting to find the absent minded parents of a five year old girl called Molly. Eugene sighed, scratched his hairy neck and tried to calm down another angry office worker demanding to know why the District Line had temporarily been suspended. Molly eased her little damp sticky hand out of his and attempted to to wander away into the crowd infront of the ticket machines.
'Oh no you don't!' said Eugene with much more friendly patience than he actually felt. She had probably wandered away from her parents in much the same way. Annoying brat! he thought.

'I have to be at a friend's house by quarter to eight, and I won't make it! I pay thousands of pounds in travel costs every year! Why are there always delays and disruptions!? Is there a replacement service? Are you listening to me?' screeched the office working, sweeping her damp red hair off her flushed and angry face. She adjusted her feet in her heels painfully and shook her wet umbrella at him. Eugene wondered if he could classify her umbrella gestures, which came dangerously close to his rough and hairy face, as some sort of threat or assault. Then maybe e he could call the transport police and have her forcibly removed from the station.

Just as he was smiling at the thought of watching this red-haired banshee be thrown into the flooded street outside, he heard a terrified scream.....