The Beatles backed away from the crowd as it came closer, unsure of what it wanted. There was another street nearby, and they could turn onto that and hopefully lose this crowd. The boys backed into the street sign, turned around... only to see another group of people coming at them from down that street, too.
Acting on instinct, Paul pulled Ringo away, into the only clear place - the middle of the road. That was a safe enough place right now since no one was out driving cars, and Paul found himself thinking irrelevantly that this might make a good song title someday. John and George...
A short while later, a train set out from the station. The underground had been almost completely deserted, and it did seem that whoever was supposed to be driving the train had stayed home from work that day. When the train left, it had only three passengers - John, Paul, and George. Ringo was driving.
The Beatles had made only one stop on their way to the station - they had gone back to the theatre they had performed in the other day, and had picked up their two guitars, left-handed bass, and small drum kit. They had no real reason for doing this - just that they felt a lot better...
Finding a TV studio was no problem when you were a Beatle. The boys had played in every good studio in town. When they got there, though, the door was swinging ominously on its hinges. The four lads exchanged glances. "Uh-oh..."
"The Beast has already been here," murmured George. He took a small step forward, not really sure if it would be better to continue on or turn around and find somewhere else. John put out a hand to stop George.
"Wait," he said. Slowly, bravely, John approached the door. He poked his head inside and looked round in all directions - as well as he...
"I don't suppose," said Ringo hopefully, "that now we've got the Sword of Truth, it can tell us the truth about where them other things are?"
John didn't know the answer, but he could feel the warm sword at his side, which almost seemed to be in tune with the Beatles' conversation, and he could almost feel it laughing at the suggestion. "No, don't think so," he supplied with a grin.
The Beatles were walking along the street, talking amongst themselves about where the other objects were likely to be. The streets around here seemed to be quite empty, so much so that no one noticed...
The passageway was dark, and dusty, and it sloped downwards as it wound along, twisting and turning so much that it was impossible for John to know which way he was facing. He also couldn't see a thing, but that didn't matter. It wasn't as if he would be able to see much of anything even if the place was brightly lit.
Perhaps it was better that his mates hadn't made it in, then, since the total darkness would be more of a problem for them. Still, John did wish they could have come along. He would have preferred that to doing this alone. John hoped the guards hadn't arrested them or...
Paul, George and Ringo looked at John. "You do?"
"Did you remember another legend that tells us where them things are?" Ringo added hopefully.
"I told you, that wouldn't help us," John said. "But that bank with the smashed-up window will."
George frowned. "How?" he sing-songed. "Paul was right; a beast doesn't need to rob a bank."
"Exactly," John told him. "Not unless there's something in there he doesn't want anyone to find. Something we could use to destroy him and that."
The Beatles stared at the picture of the horrible creature. Finally, Paul spoke. "The Beast of Bodmin Moor? What's that got to do with any of this?"
"Listen." John turned the book so he could see the words better, and began to read aloud.
"'The Beast of Bodmin Moor is a malevolent cougar-like creature that is thought to have originated from Cornwall, England. He has a brown body, pointy ears, talon-like claws, and long, straight-edged fangs. This monster has the ability to suck the soul out of his unsuspecting victims by breathing through his nostrils, which in turn absorbs it,...
None of the Beatles slept well that night.
The four lads lived in an interconnected house that looked like four houses on the outside, but was really all one room when you went in. Each Beatle had his own section painted in his own choice of colour, but tonight no Beatle wanted to leave the others even to go to his own room. The four of them spent the night huddled on John's black leather sofa, trying to relax and trying not to jump at every sound.
Eventually, they must have nodded off, because suddenly the sun was rising and the four lads were all curled up together peacefully....
Back in a familiar pub sipping their lagers and lime, the Beatles were able to calm down. They even laughed at themselves a bit, for having run away from those strangely behaving girls. It was a lot easier, in familiar, crowded, brightly lit surroundings, far away from the cold, unblinking girls, to convince themselves that there had really been nothing scary about the encounter at all. "Maybe," Paul said for all of them, "they were just too - too in awe of us to say anything."
And, of course, the pub also had more girls inside, girls who were more than happy to go up to the Beatles...