MAKE SURE YOU READ THESE NOTES; SOME MIGHT ACTUALLY BE IMPORTANT!

Hello, readers! Got your attention? Good. So, as I'm sure most (if not all) of you know, the infamous Child Catcher made an appearance last year in the Olympics Opening Ceremony, in a segment devoted to British children's literature (odd, since he wasn't in the BOOK Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang, just the film and the musical, but, what the heck; he was awesome). Riddle me this: what happens when, after watching (or, rather, re-watching) that segment of the Olympics I choose to listen to the song the character sings in the musical? Answer: I write this story...

Rating: T (for safety, more than anything else)

Disclaimer: I do not own Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang in any way, shape, or form. The book belongs to Ian Fleming; the song, Kiddy-Widdy-Winkies, which this title and a few lines in this story find their source, belongs to the Sherman Brothers. The film rights go to...well, anyone who worked on the film. And I'm not among them.

Summary: In Vulgaria, children are forbidden. We know, when spotted or heard of, the cruel Baron Bomburst and his bride, the Baroness, summon a creature known as the Child Catcher. His name tells us what he does, so that, too, we know. And, knowing the Baron and Baroness, it is very likely the captured children are either killed or imprisoned in the tower for the rest of their lives; the ones Potts and Truly met were refugees. With all this in mind...question: do ALL of the Child Catcher's prizes make it to the palace alive? A look at such an occurrence...

Warning/Notes: As the above summary probably indicates, some of this might be a tad disturbing...then again, this deals with the Child Catcher, so that, in and of itself, makes things disturbing. Ahem...just a detail, the Child Catcher's appearance in here is based not on the film but the appearance of the character as played by Kevin Cahoon, in his specified make-up when he played the part on Broadway. Why? Because it looks inhuman. No other reason. Also, his carriage is inspired by the one from the Olympics...but with less horses pulling it.

Also, for those already familiar with me: YES, I am aware that the whole "sadist" thing is getting a little old; it's just my writing preference. I'll try to break out of it if I can.

Moving right along, my little dears...

Kiddy-Widdy-Winkies

"CALL OUT THE CHILD CATCHER!"

The scream of the Baroness Bomburst echoes across the dark sky; the Baron's filthy spies reported seeing a child somewhere in the village. No sooner are the words uttered, then a pair of huge, black doors swing open, somewhere in the bowels of the castle...

And, with a rattle and roar...He wakes.

Albert shivers; in the dark of the night, he swears he can hear the horses neigh, and the howling laughter as the creature that drives them whips their backs.

He turns to his children; they are huddled on the ground, hugging each other.

"I need you to do exactly what I tell you," he says, urgently. "Find the Elbrechts; you know where they live, right, Ada?"

The young girl, with pretty blonde hair and a pink dress, nods fast, eyes wide.

"Good. Abbo?"

The boy looks up expectantly; he's at least two years older than his sister, dressed in simple clothes.

"You follow her, this time. I'll see if I can lead them off the trail. The Elbrechts will help you hide."

Abbo nodded; the Elbrechts were the local toymakers. They had been helping to hide the children of the village, but their father, due to the final wishes of their long-lost mother, had decided to raise them in his own home, hiding them from danger in the cellar.

They had been eating dinner when a neighbor reported seeing a figure looking through their window just moments before.

Even if the passerby was new, or a fellow villager, it was wise not to take chances; they went to hide under an old bridge.

Now...they were in REAL trouble.

Albert smiled, tearfully, and kissed both children on the head one last time, before running off.

The children waited till their father's footfalls disappeared...then, scrambled up the ditch themselves, and make a break for it.

They were halfway to the Elbrechts when...

BANG!

They stopped.

Even the children knew what a gunshot sounded like; such was Vulgaria.

Swallowing their fear, and praying they were wrong, they sprinted onward...

Elsewhere, three soldiers and the Captain stared at the body on the ground.

"Albert Erikstein; the blacksmith," sneered the Captain. "Filthy traitor."

The Captain spat, moustache bristling.

Then...

Ding-a-ling...

All four figures turned, watching as a familiar silhouette trotted towards them.

It was an enormous carriage...of a fashion, for it was drawn by four horses, and had three decks. Each level on the enormous wagon contained chains, shackles, assorted blades, and other such contrivances of imprisonment and torture. The entire thing was lined in thick iron bars; a three jail cells, stacked atop one another, and set on wheels.

And, driving this grim instrument, the bells on his horses' harnesses adding an ironic touch of dark whimsy to the sight...was their leader.

The Captain shivered at the goblin's cold gaze and vast grin.

"Any sign of them?" it purred, voice reedy, thin, and horrible; each time it spoke, the captain heard a cat cry.

"No; this one was their father," he said, pointing at the cadaver on the street.

"Idiot. I'll have to locate them myself. But, of course, that's my job; search the closest houses; if you DO find them before me, the Baron shall reward you greatly. So will I. Have some more of your men follow me."

The Captain nodded briskly, and barked the order. Two of the men with him grabbed onto the back of the wagon, holding the bars in one hand, feet balanced precariously on the space between them, rifles held in their free hands. The goblin driver smirked, snapping his whip, and the cart of sorrow trundled forward...

The children ran as fast as they could. The Elbrechts' house was practically an arm's length away. Ada knocked on the door.

"Mr. Elbrecht?" she called, shakily. "Are you there?"

There was no answer.

"Mr. Elbrecht!"

Still no answer.

"He...he's not home, Abbo!" she said, terror lacing her voice thickly, practically on the verge of sobbing. "Wh-what now?"

"I don't know! Let me think..."

Ding-a-ling...

The children froze, turning slowly.

They knew that sound.

On the corner, they saw the shadow...the horses, panting quietly...the distinctive silhouette of the driver...the bars of the cage-car...

"Ohh, children..." hissed a voice. "Come heeere..."

"Run!" snapped the boy, and his sister and he sprinted as fast as they could down the street in the opposite direction. They soon turned the other corner at the far end, and then stopped, just for a moment.

They could hear the wagon, drawing closer...closer...

"You can run, but you'll never hide..."

"What do we do?!" whimpered Ada.

"You find a place to hide; I'll find another one. He can't follow us both!"

"But...but..."

The boy hugged her tight.

"Go, as fast as you can, back to the bridge. I'll find another spot. Run, now!"

The sister broke free, and hesitating only a split second, took off.

Abbo, without any warning, ran out from his spot...right in front of the cart.

"Hey!" he yelled. "You want me? Here I am!"

And he ran into an alley before the wagon could move, and leaped over a fence, and kept running.

He heard the driver call for his horses to stop.

Then...

"You two! Follow the girl; her scent is getting fainter. I think she went...that way! I'll get the boy..."

Abbo bit his lip, and kept running.

Don't find Ada...don't find Ada...don't find Ada...don't find me...

He ran straight out of the village, and into the woods; he ran a few yards into the wood – but not too far – and, then, ducked behind the biggest tree he could find.

To his delight, there was a large hole there; possibly dug by a fox, or a large rabbit, or something, but now, mercifully, abandoned. He practically dived down into it, curled into a ball – though older than his sister, he was still quite small – and stayed there.

He panted for breath, listening intently, shivering as he held himself with both arms.

"Oh, hello there...where are yooouuu?"

Abbo stopped shivering. He virtually stopped breathing.

"Hmmm...so, you really thought you could outrun me, eh? How interesting...now, where are you hiding, my dear little lamb?"

Abbo remained silent.

"Aw, no need to be frightened...I'm not so bad! Just smell...

Abbo heard a soft, rustling noise...

Then, there was a loud SNAP!

...And a lovely, sugary scent filled the night air, mingling with the aromas of the forest pines.

"I have lots of lovely goodies for you, my little one. Lollipops! Ice cream! Chocolates! Pastries...all your little, candied heart could desire!" hissed the creature. "You smell that? It's sugar and ginger! It's a special brand of Ginger-snap candy I concocted just for you! Your sister will have some, too...won't you try a bite? Come on out, deary!"

Abbo knew better; he stayed where he was, and said nothing.

"Hmm...so, you're a clever one, aren't you? Yes, you think you're very bright, huh? Well, let me tell you something: do you know what I look like?"

Abbo shuddered; he didn't, nor did he want to.

"Well, even if you don't, you've surely heard of my special weapon, eh?"

Then...SNIFF. SNIFF.

"Mmm...yes. I am blessed with the most sensitive snout...no child can get out of its way. Come out, kiddy-widdy-winky! Or shall I sniff you out myself?"

Abbo gulped, but stayed put.

"Hmph. Very well; but you might yet regret it, my little mouse."

SNIFF...SNIFF...SNIFF...

Abbo cringed at the sound; whatever the ghoul looked like, if he could hear the snorting sounds of that creature's nose over the thunderous pounding of his own heart, he clearly wasn't lying.

SNIFF...SNIFF...SNIFF...

Abbo looked out into the darkness of the forest.

Could he still run? The demon would see him, doubtless...but, perhaps he could outrun it? He'd done so already...maybe he could go so deep into the forest the creature would lose sight of him...

CLUMP. CLUMP.

Abbo sucked in a short breath.

Footsteps...getting closer...closer...closer...

"I can smell you, little one...ready, or not...here...I...COME..."

That settled it.

Abbo bounded out of the hole like a hare with its tail on fire. He heard a shrieking, biting laugh tear at the still night behind him.

"Ah! There you are! I love a good chase!"

The footsteps sounded behind him, growing faster and faster; each third step seemed to be followed by a heartless scream of glee.

Abbo couldn't think; he didn't look back. All he could do was run, and pray. Pray to the Heavens he had never really believed in; a boy he was, but life in a land where people were drowned for not attending a certain birthday party did that to you; stripped you of faith, and often hope.

But now...now, hope was all he could hope for.

And it still wasn't working.

"Yoo-hoo!" called that devilish voice, not sounding tired at all, despite the speed of the chase. "Like ball, kiddy-winky? Catch this!"

No sooner than two seconds after those words hit Abbo's eardrums...before he could even fully process what had been called out to him...something thudded against the back of his head, and, with a yelp of pain and fear, he tripped and fell to the floor.

Eyes blurred with tears and pain from the smack of a stone to his head – said rock lay nearby; no blood was on it, but the blow still hurt – Abbo looked up...and saw his pursuer.

The name of the goblin hunter pounded in his aching skull.

The Child Catcher.

The Catcher was very, very tall, and very, very thin. He was dressed almost completely in black, save for a shock of silver from the brooch on his great, black bow tie, shaped into the Vulgarian Coat of Arms, and the white shirt, barely visible beneath that and his black vest, with equally black buttons. Over this was a great, black coat, with long, tattered tails that reached down to his ankles, and a high, upturned black collar. His almost skin-tight trousers were equally dark in color; Abbo wondered if he had made them himself, for no clothes he had seen in the store could have possibly fit this lanky creature's build so well. His boots had pointed toes, and were made from black leather, reaching up to his knees. Thick black gloves covered gaunt, long-fingered hands, which moved mindlessly, as if they had a life of their own; Abbo shivered, noticing the immense metal hook, with a tip pointed like the tail of a Devil, held in the Catcher's right hand. A sleek, black top hat, with a black ribbon hatband, completed the outfit, and what looked like two turkey feathers were stuck into it.

Then...in the pale light of the full moon...Abbo saw his face.

And gasped.

The Catcher was not human; no human could look so deplorable, nor so otherworldly. Long, black eyebrows arched high over a pair of wide, piercing, ice-blue eyes. The thin, black lips were split at the the upper part, almost like a rat's. Long, pointed, impish ears jutted out from the Catcher's head. But the nose was the most astonishing feature of all; a snipe, knife-shaped, slightly crooked nose at least four inches long. At least. Huge nostrils, curved slightly upward, were visible on either side of this abomination.

It was no wonder the beast had sniffed him out so easily.

The Catcher's lips peeled back, eyes narrowing even as he did so; elongated canines accentuated an already menacing grin. He cowered, crawling away, back still to the ground, unable to take his eyes off the creature.

"Hello, little mouse," crooned the Child Catcher, smoothly. "Did that hurt?"

Abbo tried to scramble to his feet, and run away once more...

With a cackle of laughter, the Catcher whipped out his hook, and dragged the child back down to the Earth.

Abbo cried out, his head hitting the ground first; this time, blood did issue forth...though only a little bit.

"You should have come to me of your own free will," purred the Child Catcher, looming over the boy, smiling like a Cheshire Cat. "The soldiers will have caught your little sister by now. I'll take her to the Baroness...she'll probably have me lock her in the tower, as usual...but what to do with you?"

"Let go of me!" snarled Abbo, anger as his sister was brought up coursing through his adrenaline-filled veins. He tried to break free, but, with the speed of striking snake, the Catcher grabbed his arm, wrenched it back, and pulled him against it, placing the tip of the hook against the boy's neck, and hissing in his ear, bony chin placed into the crook of his neck.

"See, I can't drag you all the way back to the cart, can I now, kiddy-winky?" he cooed. "It's just too, too much trouble...but, as you are likely to be executed or imprisoned till death, anyway..."

Abbo's eyes widened farther than ever before as the hook rose high into the air. The Catcher sneered.

"You and your father might see each other soon enough, my slaughtered lamb; I may not say the same for your sister, though."

Abbo lost all semblance of sense, babbling and sobbing.

"P-please...no, please..."

The Catcher grinned wider, and laughed wildly.

"It's so satisfying to catch you little vermin!" he cackled. "Nighty-night, little kiddy!"

There was a sharp scream...and silence.

Several years later...

Heinz Elbrecht, the Toymaker, glared daggers at the Child Catcher as he turned towards him, the creature's eyes narrowed in suspicion; the Potts family, dressed slyly as oversized Jack-in-the-Boxes, all made goofy faces and barely breathed, staying as still as they could, so as not to give the illusion away.

"I don't...trust a man who makes toys," the Catcher purred, gliding over to the Toymaker quietly, "In a land where CHILDREN are FORBIDDEN."

"Every toy I make is made exclusively for His Excellency, the Baron," Heinz replied, almost mechanically, and gulped.

The Catcher raised one already highly-arched eyebrow, looking him up and down, almost like a wolf sizing up a goat.

"Captain! Captain!" called a voice from outside. "The Flying Car! They have captured the Flying Car!"

Heinz saw Mr. Potts and the Truly-lady glance at each other quickly, the horror on their faces undeniable. The Catcher turned fast...but they had already returned to their usual pose.

The Catcher turned back to Heinz...and, walking about him in a slow, steady circle, took a deep, long SNIFFFFF...

The toymaker couldn't repress the chill that splashed his spine as the Catcher smirked.

He knew.

"Uh-huh," the Catcher said, simply, and left, chuckling quietly.

A fleeting glance at his bloodstained hook made Heinz Elbrecht clench his fists tighter than ever.

He had failed to protect Albert's children; he would not fail this family.