31_days | [February 15] [Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?] Sixteen Tons

Title: Sixteen Tons
Day/Theme: February 15; Unfeathering hope one-handed
Series: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Character: The Dying Informant (and company)
Rating: PG13

Will be cross-posted to my journal

Author's Note: This ficlit was directly inspired by the bizarre version of the Color Bill sketch in "The Boll Weevil Retrieval" episode, and a few of the Recruiting Officer's dialogues were borrowed from that ep. The characters are not mine (except for Borealis), and the story is! Thanks to Lucky Ladybug for plot help!

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It was another busy day at ACME Crimenet, though the young Informant wasn't on an assignment. Their animal contacts had come through for them that day, so he had no need to run off into the unknown, chasing after Kneemoi, who had run off with a statue from Alabama. Today, he was playing cards (a very deep game of crazy eights) in the alley with his best friends, while the Recruiting Officer worked on the case with the new trainees, and Borealis amused himself by barking at Mrs. Pumpkinclanger's Siamese cat, who remained perched on the windowsill in a pefect kittyloaf.

"I still don't see what Kneemoi would want with that Boll Weevil thing," said the Informant, with a shake of his head.

"What do you expect from an alien?" the Inspector deadpanned.

"You mean she probably thinks the boll weevil some sort of magic bug?" the Messenger grinned.

"Well, the ancient Egyptians worshipped a scarab beetle," the Techie reminded them. "And we've got Kafka, don't we?"

"Yeah, I just saw him," the Informant said. "He was telling the recruits about the time he went to Paris."

"What did he do, poke around the Opera House cellars or Chagny Manor?" asked the Techie.

"I think he mentioned going to the Louvre..." the boy said.

"Bet the Mona Lisa loved that..." the Messenger smirked. "I'm surprised we didn't get an angry phone call complaining about ACME letting a roach run around her."

"I'm sure she's grateful for when we saved her from Vic the Slick," the Inspector said.

"She'd better be!" the Informant exclaimed. "After what Vic did to me once he realized I was tailing him, I'm surprised I even made it back--"

He was cut off by a resounding "thud" coming from inside the ACME Crimenet building. The alley shook from the force, causing the friends to drop their cards and jump a foot in the air.

"R-R-R-R-Really now!" Mrs. Pumpkinclanger screeched, opening the window as her cat screeched, it back arched and fur standing on end. "What on earth are you doing in there-- tossing the furniture around!?"

"Uh, we're out here," the Messenger said, shrugging his shoulders. "So we don't know."

"Hey, Guys!" Kafka yelped, crawling out from under the door. The agents tuned to look at the roach.

"We already heard about your Paris trip," the Inspector deadpanned.

"No, that's not it!" the roach said. "The Recruiting Officer forgot to pay the Anti-16-Ton-Weight bill!"

"What!?" the Informant yelped, getting to his feet. "You mean that crash we heard...?"

"Late on your payments..." Mrs. Pumpkinclanger sniffed, taking her cat in her arms. "I might've known..." She trailed off, frowning. "Did you say 'Anti-16-Ton-Weight bill'...?" she added, thouroughly perplexed.

The agents ignored her.

"Is everyone alright?" asked the Techie, worried.

"The trainees are fine," said Kafka. "And the Chief is, too; she was filing away the color bill payment when it happened..."

"...And the Recruiting Officer...?" asked the Informant.

Kafka didn't reply; he just scuttled away, back inside. The Informant ran for the door, hurriedly instructing Borealis to stay in the alley. The other agents followed him inside as Mrs. Pumpkinclanger stared from the window, still baffled.

The sight inside horrified the Informant. The massive weight was smack in the middle of the floor, the trainees staring at it, in shock. The ACME monitor was relaying a phone call between Carmen and Kneemoi, courtesy of ACME Bug-Net, but the Informant wasn't even hearing it. All he could see was the pair of all-too-familar sneakers sticking out from under the weight.

"No..." he gasped, weakly. Not this... it wasn't supposed to be like this... He, the Informant, was the one who was supposed to be... They even called him "the Dying Informant" for a reason...! And it was the Recruiting Officer who would often be there as the boy would slip into oblivion. It wasn't supposed to be like this... never... As close as he was to the other three agents, he still held a close friendship with the Recruiting Officer, who had been the reason why he had come to New York in the first place. But now...

"How do we move it...?" the Techie asked, horrified. "We have to get him out from under there...!"

"I... I don't know..." the Messenger replied, going pale. Why him...? His job was never supposed to have been a dangerous one...

The Inspector just stared at the scene, unable to speak. They weren't supposed to face hazards like this at home; home was supposed to be where they were safe.

"V.I.L.E. must've done something..." he said, at last. "They must've prevented the bill from arriving so that this would happen on purpose..."

"It's not often he gets into a predicament like that..." said a loud, booming Voice that caused all present to look up. "Very well, I will help you move it."

The poor Informant was dreading the sight he was about to see, but he and the Inspector, with the Voice's help, were able to move the weight.

He could barely look-- none of them could, though they finally summoned their courage and knelt beside the still form. There was no point in trying to revive him; he would've been too far gone the second that thing hit...

They all knelt there, devastated by the loss of their friend, unable to comprehend it. They could only draw strength from each other; it would be the only way they would be able to move on... So stricken with grief were the agents that they didn't even notice the familiar voice adressing them.

"Guys? Guys... Hey, listen; it's okay..."

The Messenger didn't even acknowledge the hand on his shoulder; he pushed the speaker away.

How will Infy get over this...? he was asking himself. How will any of us...?

"Fellas! Hey! Look! Look! It's a joke...!"

The Messenger's train of thought screeched to a halt. First he, and then the others turned to see the Recruiting Officer standing right next to them. He lifted the still form from the floor, revealing it to be nothing but a cardboard cutout dressed in his wardrobe.

"I'm okay!" the Recruiting Officer grinned.

The other four agent just stared at him, the Techie wearing an expression that read, "That was not funny..."

But he was rejoicing his friend's return all the same.

The Messenger's cheery disposition returned as they headed back to the alley. But he was insistant on taking the cutout with him.

"What are you doing...?" the Informant asked.

The Messenger smirked, glancing pointedly at the cutout.

"I'm thinking we could use a scarecrow out here..." he said. "And the boys as ACME Decoy-Net did a very good job with this; it'd be a shame to let it go to waste..."

"You wouldn't..." the boy replied, grinning.

"He would..." the Techie said, slapping his forehead.

"What on earth went on!?" Mrs. Pumpkinclanger, as they approached. "Do you mean to tell me that...?" Her eyes doubled in size as she beheld the cardboard cutout.

Her scream nearly shattered all of the windows.

"Wait, wait!" said the Messenger, who had forgotten that she had been at the window. "It's a cutout; it's just a--"

"Now you're in for it," said the Inspector. "She's coming downstairs..."

"Grab an end, Infy," the Messenger ordered, thrusting half of the cutout into the younger agent's arms. "And cue the Chase!"

They ran back inside.

"Wait, the shoe!" the Inspector said, as it fell off from the cutout. "You forgot the shoe!"

He ran after them.

But the Techie didn't budge, not even when Mrs. Pumpkinclanger arrived and started chiding him. It was an unfunny joke... Even if it had been unintended, the Recruiting Officer should have told them immediately that he was alright...

He was still thinking this even after Mrs. Pumpkinclanger returned to her apartment, and the other three returned with the cutout.

"Is she gone...?" asked the Messenger.

"Yeah..." the Techie replied.

"What's wrong?" asked the Informant, sensing that all was not well with his friend. "Hey, everything turned out okay..."

"It wasn't funny... him making us worry like that..." he said, flatly.

"It wasn't," the Informant agreed.

"Something tells me that isn't the whole story," said the Inspector. "There's more to it, isn't there? The fact that the weight fell in here...?"

"I know it was some freak thing that happened..." the Techie replied. "But it got me thinking... If something like this could happen here at ACME... what else could?"

"Whatever it is, we'll face it!" the Messenger said.

"We'll get through it somehow," the Informant agreed. "We always do!"

The Techie managed a smile.

"So..." said the Informant, with a smirk. "What did old Pumpkinclanger say...?"

The Techie smirked back and proceeded to tell them about their neighbor's long rant.

And laughter filled the alley once again.