Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, Home by the Sea, Ch 2 (Dying Informant, 2)
Title: Home by the Sea, chapter 2: Photos in a Frame
Author/Artist: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Theme(s): 2; I just want to flee from this nightmare and never return.
Character: the Dying Informant
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (unless otherwise noted) and the story is!
Cross-posted to 31_days and my journal
The agents did not budge from the riverside, in spite of the continuous rain. It poured relentlessly, as though trying to get them to leave. But they were not abandoning their lost friend; he had been taken from them, and now all the rain in the world would not convince them to leave.
The night guard, however, came by after sundown.
“You cannot stay,” he said, softly. He had heard the story of the lost ACME agent, and how it must have been for his friends to find out that everything had happened so quickly, before they had returned.
“Can’t… Can’t we stay for just a little while longer…?” the Techie pleaded. He still couldn’t believe that the Informant was gone… He was somewhere alive, wasn’t he!? He had to be!
“You can come back first thing tomorrow morning,” the guard promised. “You’re not allowed after dark.”
“Why, do ghosts come out?” asked the Messenger, a bit more coldly than he had intended. He couldn’t help it-his sorrow was too deep. “Because if they do, that might work out; we never got to say goodbye…!”
He placed his hand down on the Techie’s shoulder, gently, wishing that he could just close his eyes and that this would all vanish, and his lost younger brother would be by their side, wondering why they were so sad. But it did not happen.
“You had all best go home,” the guard said, gently. He understood the Messenger’s anger and did not hold it against him. “You are tired; you must rest…”
“I think it’s going to be a long time before any of us can rest,” said the Inspector. He placed a hand on the Messenger’s shoulder. The agent nodded, and he and the Inspector, along with the Rookie and the Recruiting Officer, headed back down the pathway, all of them looking back to see the Techie still kneeling before the river.
“Techie…?” asked the Inspector.
The brunet did not reply.
“Techie!” the Messenger exclaimed, running over to him. “Oh…”
The Techie was deep in prayer, praying for his brother to come back… praying that this was all a terrible dream. He jumped, slightly, as the Messenger placed a hand on his shoulder again, and then gently raised him up.
“I miss him…” he wept. “We never got to say goodbye… We…” He trailed off, sobbing.
“I know,” said the Messenger, softly, as he and the Inspector both hugged him again. “There’s no closure. And I don’t think this pain will ever go away.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the Inspector agreed. “Not now… not ever like this…”
Slowly and somberly, they headed back to the ACME car and began to long drive home, the Techie constantly looking back at the site.
It was especially hard on him. He had been the first to befriend the young newcomer when he had shown up that fateful day in Central Park. Not too long ago, the Informant had even said that it was the fact that the Techie laughed with him that made it so easy for him to trust him.
And he Techie had never once regretted opening his heart to the brave, yet accident-prone, boy. There had been tough times, of course… trying to free him from Veran’s manipulating ways had been a trying time for the both of them, but they had since healed…
The only thing the Techie regretted was never being able to say goodbye.
He was still trembling as he walked into the ACME Crimenet lobby. On the wall were the staff photos-pictures of all of the active agents. And the Techie’s heart twisted again as he saw Mr. Schwemphf unceremoniously removing the Informant’s photograph from the wall, his expression carrying not even the slight shred of sympathy.
The Techie cried out, running forward and snatching the photograph from him.
“What is the meaning of this--!?”
“I know you!” yelled the Techie, tears running down his face. “I know how little you care about people’s feelings! What were you going to do-throw it in the trash!?”
“Of course not!” Schwemphf fumed. “I wouldn’t throw away a perfectly good frame!”
The Techie looked mad enough to attack him. The Inspector and the Messenger quickly rushed forward and pulled him away, but glaring at Schwemphf, too.
“You’d better bring me back that frame…” Schwemphf called after him.
“The frame!?” the Techie yelled, furiously. “An agent is gone, and all you care about is a stupid frame!?”
“We work in an agency that has to expect unfortunate losses,” Schwemphf countered. “If you aren’t able to handle such losses, maybe you shouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe we never should’ve been here!” the Techie snarled back. “Then my brother wouldn’t have had any enemies, and he wouldn’t be gone now!”
“Techie…!” the Messenger said.
The Techie caught ahold of himself as he headed upstairs.
“Oh, little brother…” he sobbed. “I keep telling you not to lose your temper… now look at me…”
“He would understand,” said the Inspector, understandingly. “He’d be just as upset if… the situation was reversed.”
The Techie gave a nod, still trembling in sorrow.
“Guys, I… I want to be alone for a bit…” he said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the Messenger said, frowning. “Infy would want us to stick together more than ever at a time like this.”
“I know, but… Just give me a little time… please…?” he asked. “I need to get out of these soaked clothes and…”
The Inspector didn’t like the idea, either.
“We’re going to have a word with the Chief,” he said at last. “But then we’re coming back, okay?”
The Techie nodded, heading to the room which he and his brother had shared. The newest wave of incoming agents had driven ACME Housing-Net to pair the agents up in the dormitories. But the Techie could only stare at the empty top bunk. He was alone.
“Guys!” he cried, and they immediately turned back.
“Don’t… don’t let Schwemphf get anyone else for the room… please…”
They nodded. The very notion of Schwmphf trying to replace the Informan like that was sickening, but not beyond him. Schwemphf always insisted by going by the book, but that made him cold and unsympathetic.
The Techie went back inside the room, staring at the Informant’s present which the Recruiting Officer had placed on the bedside table.
It would hurt, he knew, but he knew that the Informant would want the Techie to open it.
Trembling, the Techie unwrapped the paper surrounding the gift. A small notecard was in the paper, and the Techie picked it up with trembling fingers, reading the handwritten words-the last words his brother addressed to him.
“This is the best I could come up with,” the note said. “But I hope you like it. Happy Birthday, Techie!”
The Techie desperately hugged the photograph in his arms, sobbing as he looked up to see what the gift was-a painstakingly hand-painted portrait of the four brothers, each carrying an expression of happiness. The Informant had painted himself next to the Techie, the expression on his face devoid of any knowledge that he would not be able to personally hand the gift over to his elder brother… blissfully unaware of the tragedy that was going to befall him…
It hurt… Oh, how it hurt to look, knowing that the Techie would never hear his brother’s voice ever again… knowing that he never could see him smile or laugh. It was all taken from him. He would never have closure.
Downstairs, the Messenger and the Inspector were complaining to the Chief, who fully understood their sorrow and rage.
“Can’t you just fire that Schwemphf creep!?” the Messenger cried, slamming his hands on the desk. “Techie nearly died because of him, and now we’ll never be able to say goodbye to Infy because of him…!”
“I can’t fire him since he hasn’t done anything wrong; therein lies his defense,” sighed the Chief. “I have tried to get him transferred, but none of the other branches of ACME are willing to take him.”
“Big surprise…” the Inspector muttered, sarcastically. “His reputation undoubtedly precedes him. Doesn’t he realize that…?”
“He says that it doesn’t matter if he’s hated,” sighed the Chief. “All he cares about is seeing that the rules are enforced.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he doesn’t care about how much he’s loved,” said the Messenger, fuming. “Because I’ll tell you right now--”
He was cut off as the door opened, and Schwemphf himself came in.
“So what other innocent agent is suffering because of you?” the Messenger asked.
The Vice-Chief ignored him.
“Chief, I must lodge a complaint against ACME Tech-Net Agent 1106,” he said. “He has gone crazy, refusing to give me the frame of the photograph he so demanded to have.”
“He’s mourning the loss of his brother-our brother!” the Inspector said, furiously, as well. “You didn’t have the decency to look for him--”
“Search-and-Rescue-Net needed to go, and I had to let them go,” he said. “Do you not realize--?”
“We never got to say goodbye,” the Messenger hissed.
“You should have had some of them stay back to look,” the Chief said to Schwemphf.
“You mean to tell me you condone this… foolish insubordination?” asked Schwemphf. “Don’t you realize that Conrad Knuckle would find that laughable? He will find us inefficient if we can’t control our own agents!”
“You will leave the Techie-and these two-alone,” the Chief ordered. She turned to the agents. “You three can take as much time off as you need to.”
“Chief--!” Schwemphf sputtered.
“I don’t want you straining yourselves emotionally,” the Chief continued, ignoring Schwemphf. “Do whatever you have to in order to recover.”
“Does that include the Techie not getting a new roommate?” asked the Messenger.
“Of course; I understand,” the Chief replied. “Now you two go up and help him get yourselves through this.”
The two agents nodded, and then headed upstairs to see the Techie, still sobbing as he hugged the photograph, staring at the portrait.
“Techie…” said the Inspector, softly. He blinked as he saw the portrait.
“It was perfect…” said the Messenger, staring at the portrait. “Good old Infy…”
“I miss him…” the Techie sobbed. It was an understatement. “I miss him so much…”
“Would you want one of us to stay here?” asked the Messenger.
The Techie shook his head. It was the Informant’s room… No one else should take his place. And the others understood.
“We’ll be right across the hall,” the Inspector said. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”
“Define ‘alright,’” said the Techie. “I’ll never be alright… Not until I see him again.”
“We will see him again,” the Messenger said, firmly. “I don’t know when, but we will. And we can all tell him how well he did on that painting.”
The Techie sobbed and managed a weak smile as they retreated from the room. He placed the photograph on the bedside table and rested his head on his pillow, closing his eyes. A tragic end to what had undoubtedly been the worst birthday of his life…
***********************************
Elsewhere, someone was awakening from a dreamless sleep. He couldn’t see a thing, but could hear odd sounds.
The splashing of water… familiar voices…
“Quiet…” a cold, female voice warned. “Do you want to wake up the whole city?”
“Sorry, Carmen…” another, deeper female voice answered.
“Oh, stop dawdling, Eartha!” another girlish voice warned. “He won’t have much time!”
“Man, what a wacky twist…” another female voice said. “But if it does happen, we can just throw him right back--”
“Sarah!” the girlish voice cried.
“Hey, just chillax, Patty; I didn’t mean nothin’…”
“Say what you wish, Sarah,” a fifth female voice said. “I have no simpatia for the little Informant boy…”
“Will you all be quiet?” Carmen hissed at them.
“I think I found him…” said Eartha. “Robo, help me lift him!”
He kept hearing an odd sound… metal in the water, it sounded like… Oh, where was he? What was going on? He tried, desperately, to draw in breath, but it was so hard… so, so hard…
He still couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the voices of V.I.L.E. as another splashing sound was heard-someone had turned him over onto his back.
And then, at last, he unleashed a shrill gasp as fresh air finally struck him. But he still could not draw in the air properly.
“Pump the water out of him, Eartha,” Carmen ordered.
“Aww, Carmen, do I gotta? I heard that the last time someone tried that on him, he spat water on them…”
“Eartha, now.”
Eartha groaned, and then the boy felt his chest and stomach contract as he spewed out the water he had taken in. After a series of hacking coughs, he tried to open his heavy eyelids.
The darkness was beginning to lift, slightly. By the dim light of the waning gibbous moon, he could see blurry figures… one metal… one dressed in red…
And then he heard Carmen’s voice, clearer than ever.
“Good evening, Dying Informant.”
The boy gasped again, this time out of shock as he saw himself surrounded by V.I.L.E.
“Carmen--!?” he managed to scream, but Vic the Slick immediately gagged him with a plaid handkerchief and then covered his eyes with a second one.
“Remarkable, isn’t it…?” he heard Carmen purr. “A drug that masks all of the vital signs of one who is injected with it…?” She chuckled. “ACME will never look for you now, Dying Informant. To them, you are the Dead Informant.”
No… No, it can’t be… the boy thought, terrified and panicking.
He was being tied up now, and was thrown over Eartha’s shoulder.
Help me…! he mentally cried. HELP ME!
And, miles away, the Techie awoke from the invisible arrow he had felt striking into his heart.
Author/Artist: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Theme(s): 2; I just want to flee from this nightmare and never return.
Character: the Dying Informant
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (unless otherwise noted) and the story is!
Cross-posted to 31_days and my journal
The agents did not budge from the riverside, in spite of the continuous rain. It poured relentlessly, as though trying to get them to leave. But they were not abandoning their lost friend; he had been taken from them, and now all the rain in the world would not convince them to leave.
The night guard, however, came by after sundown.
“You cannot stay,” he said, softly. He had heard the story of the lost ACME agent, and how it must have been for his friends to find out that everything had happened so quickly, before they had returned.
“Can’t… Can’t we stay for just a little while longer…?” the Techie pleaded. He still couldn’t believe that the Informant was gone… He was somewhere alive, wasn’t he!? He had to be!
“You can come back first thing tomorrow morning,” the guard promised. “You’re not allowed after dark.”
“Why, do ghosts come out?” asked the Messenger, a bit more coldly than he had intended. He couldn’t help it-his sorrow was too deep. “Because if they do, that might work out; we never got to say goodbye…!”
He placed his hand down on the Techie’s shoulder, gently, wishing that he could just close his eyes and that this would all vanish, and his lost younger brother would be by their side, wondering why they were so sad. But it did not happen.
“You had all best go home,” the guard said, gently. He understood the Messenger’s anger and did not hold it against him. “You are tired; you must rest…”
“I think it’s going to be a long time before any of us can rest,” said the Inspector. He placed a hand on the Messenger’s shoulder. The agent nodded, and he and the Inspector, along with the Rookie and the Recruiting Officer, headed back down the pathway, all of them looking back to see the Techie still kneeling before the river.
“Techie…?” asked the Inspector.
The brunet did not reply.
“Techie!” the Messenger exclaimed, running over to him. “Oh…”
The Techie was deep in prayer, praying for his brother to come back… praying that this was all a terrible dream. He jumped, slightly, as the Messenger placed a hand on his shoulder again, and then gently raised him up.
“I miss him…” he wept. “We never got to say goodbye… We…” He trailed off, sobbing.
“I know,” said the Messenger, softly, as he and the Inspector both hugged him again. “There’s no closure. And I don’t think this pain will ever go away.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the Inspector agreed. “Not now… not ever like this…”
Slowly and somberly, they headed back to the ACME car and began to long drive home, the Techie constantly looking back at the site.
It was especially hard on him. He had been the first to befriend the young newcomer when he had shown up that fateful day in Central Park. Not too long ago, the Informant had even said that it was the fact that the Techie laughed with him that made it so easy for him to trust him.
And he Techie had never once regretted opening his heart to the brave, yet accident-prone, boy. There had been tough times, of course… trying to free him from Veran’s manipulating ways had been a trying time for the both of them, but they had since healed…
The only thing the Techie regretted was never being able to say goodbye.
He was still trembling as he walked into the ACME Crimenet lobby. On the wall were the staff photos-pictures of all of the active agents. And the Techie’s heart twisted again as he saw Mr. Schwemphf unceremoniously removing the Informant’s photograph from the wall, his expression carrying not even the slight shred of sympathy.
The Techie cried out, running forward and snatching the photograph from him.
“What is the meaning of this--!?”
“I know you!” yelled the Techie, tears running down his face. “I know how little you care about people’s feelings! What were you going to do-throw it in the trash!?”
“Of course not!” Schwemphf fumed. “I wouldn’t throw away a perfectly good frame!”
The Techie looked mad enough to attack him. The Inspector and the Messenger quickly rushed forward and pulled him away, but glaring at Schwemphf, too.
“You’d better bring me back that frame…” Schwemphf called after him.
“The frame!?” the Techie yelled, furiously. “An agent is gone, and all you care about is a stupid frame!?”
“We work in an agency that has to expect unfortunate losses,” Schwemphf countered. “If you aren’t able to handle such losses, maybe you shouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe we never should’ve been here!” the Techie snarled back. “Then my brother wouldn’t have had any enemies, and he wouldn’t be gone now!”
“Techie…!” the Messenger said.
The Techie caught ahold of himself as he headed upstairs.
“Oh, little brother…” he sobbed. “I keep telling you not to lose your temper… now look at me…”
“He would understand,” said the Inspector, understandingly. “He’d be just as upset if… the situation was reversed.”
The Techie gave a nod, still trembling in sorrow.
“Guys, I… I want to be alone for a bit…” he said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the Messenger said, frowning. “Infy would want us to stick together more than ever at a time like this.”
“I know, but… Just give me a little time… please…?” he asked. “I need to get out of these soaked clothes and…”
The Inspector didn’t like the idea, either.
“We’re going to have a word with the Chief,” he said at last. “But then we’re coming back, okay?”
The Techie nodded, heading to the room which he and his brother had shared. The newest wave of incoming agents had driven ACME Housing-Net to pair the agents up in the dormitories. But the Techie could only stare at the empty top bunk. He was alone.
“Guys!” he cried, and they immediately turned back.
“Don’t… don’t let Schwemphf get anyone else for the room… please…”
They nodded. The very notion of Schwmphf trying to replace the Informan like that was sickening, but not beyond him. Schwemphf always insisted by going by the book, but that made him cold and unsympathetic.
The Techie went back inside the room, staring at the Informant’s present which the Recruiting Officer had placed on the bedside table.
It would hurt, he knew, but he knew that the Informant would want the Techie to open it.
Trembling, the Techie unwrapped the paper surrounding the gift. A small notecard was in the paper, and the Techie picked it up with trembling fingers, reading the handwritten words-the last words his brother addressed to him.
“This is the best I could come up with,” the note said. “But I hope you like it. Happy Birthday, Techie!”
The Techie desperately hugged the photograph in his arms, sobbing as he looked up to see what the gift was-a painstakingly hand-painted portrait of the four brothers, each carrying an expression of happiness. The Informant had painted himself next to the Techie, the expression on his face devoid of any knowledge that he would not be able to personally hand the gift over to his elder brother… blissfully unaware of the tragedy that was going to befall him…
It hurt… Oh, how it hurt to look, knowing that the Techie would never hear his brother’s voice ever again… knowing that he never could see him smile or laugh. It was all taken from him. He would never have closure.
Downstairs, the Messenger and the Inspector were complaining to the Chief, who fully understood their sorrow and rage.
“Can’t you just fire that Schwemphf creep!?” the Messenger cried, slamming his hands on the desk. “Techie nearly died because of him, and now we’ll never be able to say goodbye to Infy because of him…!”
“I can’t fire him since he hasn’t done anything wrong; therein lies his defense,” sighed the Chief. “I have tried to get him transferred, but none of the other branches of ACME are willing to take him.”
“Big surprise…” the Inspector muttered, sarcastically. “His reputation undoubtedly precedes him. Doesn’t he realize that…?”
“He says that it doesn’t matter if he’s hated,” sighed the Chief. “All he cares about is seeing that the rules are enforced.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he doesn’t care about how much he’s loved,” said the Messenger, fuming. “Because I’ll tell you right now--”
He was cut off as the door opened, and Schwemphf himself came in.
“So what other innocent agent is suffering because of you?” the Messenger asked.
The Vice-Chief ignored him.
“Chief, I must lodge a complaint against ACME Tech-Net Agent 1106,” he said. “He has gone crazy, refusing to give me the frame of the photograph he so demanded to have.”
“He’s mourning the loss of his brother-our brother!” the Inspector said, furiously, as well. “You didn’t have the decency to look for him--”
“Search-and-Rescue-Net needed to go, and I had to let them go,” he said. “Do you not realize--?”
“We never got to say goodbye,” the Messenger hissed.
“You should have had some of them stay back to look,” the Chief said to Schwemphf.
“You mean to tell me you condone this… foolish insubordination?” asked Schwemphf. “Don’t you realize that Conrad Knuckle would find that laughable? He will find us inefficient if we can’t control our own agents!”
“You will leave the Techie-and these two-alone,” the Chief ordered. She turned to the agents. “You three can take as much time off as you need to.”
“Chief--!” Schwemphf sputtered.
“I don’t want you straining yourselves emotionally,” the Chief continued, ignoring Schwemphf. “Do whatever you have to in order to recover.”
“Does that include the Techie not getting a new roommate?” asked the Messenger.
“Of course; I understand,” the Chief replied. “Now you two go up and help him get yourselves through this.”
The two agents nodded, and then headed upstairs to see the Techie, still sobbing as he hugged the photograph, staring at the portrait.
“Techie…” said the Inspector, softly. He blinked as he saw the portrait.
“It was perfect…” said the Messenger, staring at the portrait. “Good old Infy…”
“I miss him…” the Techie sobbed. It was an understatement. “I miss him so much…”
“Would you want one of us to stay here?” asked the Messenger.
The Techie shook his head. It was the Informant’s room… No one else should take his place. And the others understood.
“We’ll be right across the hall,” the Inspector said. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”
“Define ‘alright,’” said the Techie. “I’ll never be alright… Not until I see him again.”
“We will see him again,” the Messenger said, firmly. “I don’t know when, but we will. And we can all tell him how well he did on that painting.”
The Techie sobbed and managed a weak smile as they retreated from the room. He placed the photograph on the bedside table and rested his head on his pillow, closing his eyes. A tragic end to what had undoubtedly been the worst birthday of his life…
***********************************
Elsewhere, someone was awakening from a dreamless sleep. He couldn’t see a thing, but could hear odd sounds.
The splashing of water… familiar voices…
“Quiet…” a cold, female voice warned. “Do you want to wake up the whole city?”
“Sorry, Carmen…” another, deeper female voice answered.
“Oh, stop dawdling, Eartha!” another girlish voice warned. “He won’t have much time!”
“Man, what a wacky twist…” another female voice said. “But if it does happen, we can just throw him right back--”
“Sarah!” the girlish voice cried.
“Hey, just chillax, Patty; I didn’t mean nothin’…”
“Say what you wish, Sarah,” a fifth female voice said. “I have no simpatia for the little Informant boy…”
“Will you all be quiet?” Carmen hissed at them.
“I think I found him…” said Eartha. “Robo, help me lift him!”
He kept hearing an odd sound… metal in the water, it sounded like… Oh, where was he? What was going on? He tried, desperately, to draw in breath, but it was so hard… so, so hard…
He still couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the voices of V.I.L.E. as another splashing sound was heard-someone had turned him over onto his back.
And then, at last, he unleashed a shrill gasp as fresh air finally struck him. But he still could not draw in the air properly.
“Pump the water out of him, Eartha,” Carmen ordered.
“Aww, Carmen, do I gotta? I heard that the last time someone tried that on him, he spat water on them…”
“Eartha, now.”
Eartha groaned, and then the boy felt his chest and stomach contract as he spewed out the water he had taken in. After a series of hacking coughs, he tried to open his heavy eyelids.
The darkness was beginning to lift, slightly. By the dim light of the waning gibbous moon, he could see blurry figures… one metal… one dressed in red…
And then he heard Carmen’s voice, clearer than ever.
“Good evening, Dying Informant.”
The boy gasped again, this time out of shock as he saw himself surrounded by V.I.L.E.
“Carmen--!?” he managed to scream, but Vic the Slick immediately gagged him with a plaid handkerchief and then covered his eyes with a second one.
“Remarkable, isn’t it…?” he heard Carmen purr. “A drug that masks all of the vital signs of one who is injected with it…?” She chuckled. “ACME will never look for you now, Dying Informant. To them, you are the Dead Informant.”
No… No, it can’t be… the boy thought, terrified and panicking.
He was being tied up now, and was thrown over Eartha’s shoulder.
Help me…! he mentally cried. HELP ME!
And, miles away, the Techie awoke from the invisible arrow he had felt striking into his heart.