Subject: [OTL]: The Getting Of Wisdom OR The Crossover You Will Not Believe Date: Thu, 28 Dec 2000 03:35:31 -0800 From: "Amanda Sichter." Well, this one is just silly. Totally utterly silly. I wrote it and I can't believe how silly it is . Disclaimer: Some of the characters in the following story are owned by Marvel. Some are not. They're owned by other companies that I'm just too damned lazy to look up. Sorry about that. But anyway, I'm making no money from any of them, so no-one should sue me. Oh, and blame AusCon for inspiring this . Rating: PG - and that's only because Constantine turns up and says some low-level nasty words. Dedication: Well it just has to be dedicated to Rossi, Mel, Acetal, Yasmin, MouseCarcass, BRM and Loki's Rose, now doesn't it . You guys are just way too much fun. The Getting Of Wisdom OR The Crossover You Will Not Believe Maxwell Smart walked into the Chief's office, not at all surprised that the head of CONTROL was giving him an exasperated look. 'Max, you're twenty minutes late,' said the Chief. 'Sorry about that, Chief' replied Max. 'It was the telephone booth again.' 'Lift not working?' asked the Chief. 'No, I dialled the wrong number. I was talking to a Swedish furniture salesman named Sven.' 'For twenty minutes?' 'He had some good furniture, Chief. And cheap. He's sending me a catalogue. 99 will love it. You've never seen a woman so handy with an allen key.' The Chief shook his head slightly, not at all surprised by what his best agent had been doing. 'Max, there's an urgent mission for you. We need you to retrieve something for us. KAOS has stolen the Demon-o-matic plans.' Max was stunned. 'The Demon-o-matic plans?! No Chief, there's *no way* you can tell me they've stolen the Demon-o-matic plans!' There was a small pause, a beat in time, and then he added, 'Chief, what are the Demon-o-matic plans?' 'The Demon-o-matic plans are the plans to what may be the vilest device ever invented by a human being. CONTROL bought the plans from the deceased estate of a mad scientist that got eaten by his budgi-giraffe and we've -' 'His budgi-giraffe?' interrupted Max. 'Don't you mean his budgerigar? Though if it ate him it'd have to be a big budgie.' 'It was his budgi-giraffe, Max. He crossed a budgie with a giraffe and they think it pecked him to death and then ate him.' He shrugged at the look Max gave him. 'I did mention he was a mad scientist, didn't I? Anyway, CONTROL have been keeping the plans safe. Until last night.' 'What happened last night, Chief?' asked Max. 'The plans were stolen. We need to stop them building the device, Max. It opens a portal to Hell, calls forth demons automatically. If the device is built and turned on - well, the world as we know it will be under the sway of demons, turned into Hell. I'm relying on you to stop him, Max.' 'Stop who, Chief? Who stole the plans?' 'It was the Sinister Craw. He left one of his fingers behind, so we know who did it. And we know he's in cahoots with another organisation. That's why we need you to work with an outside agent on this one.' 'Who, Chief?' Max leaned forward, peered into the dark corner of the room where, he had suddenly realised, someone had been lurking all this time. 'The Craw is working with Black Air, a UK-based ex-government Agency turned bad. We've found an ex-agent who's willing to work with us on this one.' A man stepped into the light behind the Chief's desk, a tall, dark man with piercing blue eyes, dressed in a dark suit. 'Maxwell Smart, I'd like you to meet Pete Wisdom.' * * * * * * Max had finally managed to corner 99 in the kitchen, away from their guests. 'I think he's hard of hearing, 99,' he hissed. 'Who, Max?' asked the brunette agent, continuing to organise biscuits onto a plate. 'Pete Wisdom,' he replied. 'He keeps asking me to repeat things. Or else he repeats them. I'm starting to wonder whether he's all there.' 'Oh, Max,' said 99. 'I'm sure he's just getting used to working with you.' 'I hope so, 99. I hope so,' muttered Max darkly and then returned to the living room, all smiles. 'So,' he said loudly, to Pete and his lovely partner, Kitty, 'which one of you is going to come with me to meet our informant?' The Englishman and the girl glanced at each other and then Pete shrugged. 'I'll come,' he said. 'Where are we meeting him?' 'There's a hotel where we meet. The Ambassador. It's in not far away - just over the underpass and under the overpass and we're there.' 'Over the underpass and under the overpass?' repeated Pete and Max shot 99 a look, which she heartily ignored. 'That's right,' replied Max. 'We'll meet him at noon tomorrow in the revolving door.' '*In* the revolving door?' said Pete, his eyebrows rising higher and higher. 'Yes,' said Max, very loudly and very slowly. 'In the revolving door. And I have to warn you - he'll be disguised as a beautiful woman.' '*He'll* be disguised - as a beautiful woman?' said Pete helplessly, his eyebrows attempting to climb off his forehead. 'Yes, a beautiful woman,' shouted Max. 99 looked at them and then over at Kitty. 'Tea?' she asked and Kitty smiled. Together, the women left the room and their laughter could soon be heard drifting from the kitchen. 'So we're meeting your informant, who'll be disguised as a beautiful woman in the revolving door of the hotel that's under the overpass and over the underpass?' Pete's voice was beginning to join his eyebrows in a climb into the upper registers. 'No - the hotel that's over the underpass and under the overpass. The hotel that's under the overpass and over the underpass is the Metropolitan. No-one meets there.' Max's voice was full of scorn. 'What?' he asked eventually, as Pete's open-mouthed stare finally got to him. Pete cleared his throat gently and whispered, 'I don't know how to tell you this - but, your shoe is ringing.' * * * * * * 'So, how was it?' asked Kitty, her fingers kneading deeply into the tense muscles of Wisdom's shoulders, as he lay face-down on their hotel bed. 'You wouldn't believe me if I told you,' replied Pete, his voice muffled. 'Yes I would,' said Kitty and slapped him lightly. 'Tell me what happened.' 'Well, we went under the overpass and over the underpass - or was the over the underpass and under the overpass - did I mention that I think I lost my mind today?' Pete's voice had taken on a permanently bewildered aspect. 'Pete!' said Kitty, warning him. Her hand twitched off his shoulder and Pete hurriedly continued the story. 'Anyway, so we got to the hotel and we went round and round and round in the revolvin' door until I thought I was going to be sick. And that's not even mentioning the whole thing with hotel security. They chased us out of the door twice. Eventually we started lurking next to the door and leaping in every time a woman walked in. Honestly, I thought we were going to be arrested, Kit. How would that look on a charge sheet? But the informant arrived eventually.' Pete stopped talking suddenly. 'How was the disguise?' asked Kitty, evenly. 'Spectacular,' breathed Pete and was rewarded with a sudden, hard slap. 'Ow!! Look it's not my fault Charlie Watkins is a master of disguise. Or mistress. Or - oh, god, I'm so confused. So we got in the revolving door and she - he told us that it looked like the Craw had gone to England. And then sh - *he* went and we kept going around in the door because Smart said it would be suspicious if we left straight after her - *him* - like going around in a revolving door forty-seven times *wasn't* suspicious - and then his shoe-phone rang.' 'And?' prompted Kitty. 'And - he stopped to answer it,' said Pete, his voice very quiet. 'In a revolving door?' breathed Kitty. 'In a revolving door,' confirmed Pete. Kitty's giggles were infectious and Pete laughed as he remembered the sight of Max catapulted into the hotel lobby as the door caught him from behind. 'So we're all going to England,' said Kitty eventually, when she had calmed down. Pete turned over and Kitty suddenly saw that his grin was the most evil she had ever seen. 'What have you done?' she whispered. 'We're going to England and we're going to meet *my* informant,' smirked Pete. 'Who are you going to meet, you evil bastard?' asked Kitty. 'Me old mate - John Constantine,' grinned Pete. 'Oh Pete,' whimpered Kitty and then shrieked in surprise as Pete caught her hands and rolled over her, pinning her to the bed. 'So I'm an evil bastard, am I?' he asked and dropped his head to nuzzle at her neck. 'Absolutely,' gasped Kitty. 'How evil?' he asked as he licked at her sensitive ears. 'Utterly, utterly evil,' she breathed and then giggled as his hands moved lower. 'I am,' Pete whispered. 'And now, my girl, I'm going to prove it.' * * * * * * John Constantine and Pete Wisdom looked at the thing. It was yellow, a kind of lurid, nearly fluorescent yellow, with an umbrella, a plastic mermaid straw and a stick with fruit placed around the edges. 'I didn't know they made things like that in English pubs. I mean America yes, but not in England. Not home,' whispered Pete. John Constantine's eyes were wide with awe. 'You say it's got no alcohol in it? At all?' He sounded as if he didn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. 'Isn't that illegal?' 'It's a non-alcoholic Shirley Temple,' said Max, and took a satisfying slurp. 'Want to try some?' he asked. 'Bugger off,' said Constantine, shuddering back. 'Me intestines would melt.' Max gave him a disapproving look. 'I don't think such language is called for,' he said. 'What "bugger"?!' snorted Constantine. 'Look, mate, you can take your prissy Yank morals and you can shove them right up your fu -'. He was stopped by Pete's hand, placed strategically over his mouth. 'I don't think this is the time to start studies in comparative morality,' said Pete, a warning tone in his voice. 'Believe me!' he added vehemently, his memory of Max wearing him down with arguments about swearing until he had given in out of sheer desperation. And all because he'd said "damn". 'Just tell us if you've managed to find out where the Demon-o-matic's being built.' 'You sure it's a real thing?' asked Constantine. He turned his gaze to Max, who was enthusiastically eating a glace cherry. 'I've never heard of this KAOS and I didn't know anyone had plans for a Demon-o-matic.' 'Of course you haven't heard of KAOS,' replied Max. 'They're a secret evil organisation whose chief weapons are surprise, fear and -' 'A fanatical devotion to the Pope,' said Constantine. Max gave him a puzzled look. 'I was going to say really big henchmen. I don't think KAOS has a lot of Catholic members.' 'No, I mean like the Spanish Inquisition.' Constantine was starting to get angry. 'Don't worry about it,' said Pete to John. 'Monty Python is a foreign language to him.' 'Mantepathan? Is that a Spanish dialect?' asked Max, who was now completely lost. Constantine gave him a long, level look and then dragged Pete away from the table. 'I don't trust him,' he hissed. 'Are you sure he's a spy? He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke and he's never heard of Monty Python. And I've never heard of KAOS. Or CONTROL.' 'He's a secret agent, really. Just, kind of, like a boy scout. I think he's harmless.' Pete had got very confused recently, and Constantine's scepticism was not helping. 'Well, I'm not taking your word for it. I'm not telling him anything until someone vouches for him.' Constantine had the patented John-being-a-stubborn-bastard look on his face and Pete shrugged helplessly. 'I'll vouch for him.' The soft, sad voice came from a bin/ashtray standing near the table. Constantine jumped three feet, Pete (who was becoming inured to these things) only two. 'Who are you?' John addressed the bin harshly. 'Agent 13!' said Max. 'What are you doing here?' Sitting back down, Pete could see a pair of sad eyes peering through the opening of the bin. 'The Chief sent me,' said Agent 13, his voice only slightly muffled. 'He wanted me to check how you were going.' The bin oriented towards Constantine. 'I can vouch for Agent 86,' it said. 'He's one of the best agents in CONTROL. He's saved the world on more than one occasion. You can trust him.' 'This is just not fu- believable,' Constantine censored himself. 'Okay, fine, I'll believe the bin.' He threw up his hands. 'I feel like I'm in a Sixties sitcom.' 'So have you heard anything? Can you help us track down the Demon-o-matic?' asked Pete. 'I can't guarantee it, but, yeah, I think so,' said Constantine, downing his whisky and signalling for another. 'There's been a build-up of summoning energies in Eynhallow - it's an island in the middle of the Orkney Islands. I was going to check it out when I got the chance but -' 'But we'll do that,' interrupted Pete and his look was very dark. He saw John's questioning look and explained, 'It used to be a Black Air site. I don't think there's any question about what's there.' He grabbed the by now completely confused Max by the arm and dragged him away. 'Fine, piss off on me,' muttered Constantine and downed the whisky that had appeared on the table. 'And you can piss off, too,' he said loudly to the bin by the side of his table, gaining several disconcerted looks from patrons unused to Constantine, and then vanished into the night. After a while, the bin sidled out after him. * * * * * * 'We talked about the really big henchmen, didn't we?' Max sounded worried. 'We did,' said Pete, rolling his eyes. They had talked about it in the portable Cone of Silence, as Max was worried the hotel room may have been bugged. Pete never wanted to go through the humiliation of wearing what looked like one of a pair of joined perspex goldfish bowls on his head ever again. Kitty had laughed at him for *hours* afterwards. He sighed, 'Kitty is coming with us. End of story. It's the same as 99. If I tried to leave Pryde behind - well, she'd have my bollocks for breakfast. Not literally, either.' 'I don't know about that,' said Kitty sweetly, happily ensconced in the bow of the boat and enjoying watching her lover row them across the narrow channel to the supposedly uninhabited Eynhallow. 'Possibly sauteed, maybe fried. They might be a whole new category of delicacy.' 'Kitty,' said 99, blushing. 'You shouldn't say things like that.' 'Well, they took us with them, so I guess I won't have to do it anyway,' said Kitty, her smile maliciously innocent. 'Ladies,' said Max. 'We're here.' The little row-boat - chosen because it was the stealthiest way to make the short trip from Rounsay - scraped up against the pebbled beach and Max gallantly helped 99 out. Kitty's glare at Pete didn't work and she ended up phasing her way onto the island. 'Where to?' asked 99. 'This way,' said Max and led them onto the moors. For about twenty feet. Until he sank up to his armpits. Pete, Kitty and 99 gathered on the solid ground and looked at the spy, trapped up to his armpits in slush. 'Are you alright, Max?' asked 99. 'The old peat-bog disguised as dry land trick,' said Max. 'Second time I've fallen for it this month.' He waited patiently as Kitty phased him and then led him back onto dry land. She phased the water out of his clothes, but his shoes squelched as they set out again, this time following Pete's lead. It didn't take long to reach the Lodge, the old Black Air base and now home, they thought, to the Sinister Craw and the Demon-o-matic. It was large, made of dark stones and definitely loomed. It was the archetypal secret Agency of Evil hideout. 'How are we going to get into it?' asked 99. 'I have, in my briefcase,' replied Max, 'a strand of twine that can carry the weight of all of us. If I use my bow and arrow to shoot that strand into the air and wedge the arrow into the walls of the Lodge and then we use the patented Lift-aloft which I also happen to have in my briefcase we can be inside within, oh, say, an hour.' 'Or we could take the stairs,' said Pete, opening the door at the Lodge's base. '*Or* we could take the stairs,' said Max and followed the others inside. * * * * * * 'So,' said the Sinister Craw, watching the progress of the four intruders on his security cameras, 'Maxwell Smart has come to cross swords with me again.' 'He is a fool,' said Bobo, the Craw's more than slightly idiotic assistant. 'A terrible fool,' agreed the Craw. 'While he may have defeated me in the past, even with his new companions, he cannot defeat me now. Not with the Demon-o-matic already built. Bobo, I feel that a great triumph is about to happen. At last I shall defeat Maxwell Smart.' There was a long pause, until Bobo eventually said, 'Haven't you forgotten something?' 'What?!' asked the Craw and then his brow cleared. 'Oh yes,' he said. 'Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!' The sinister laugh of the evil genius rolled throughout the hall. * * * * * * Pete watched in astonishment as Max rolled down the stairs, executing a spectacular triple somersault before leaping to his feet at the bottom. It would have been a fantastic move in the armoury of anyone attempting to dodge bullets or evade capture. With Maxwell Smart it just meant that he had tripped and fallen down the stairs. 'Oh Max, are you alright?' asked 99. 'Just fine,' said the spy, casually brushing his jacket, nonchalantly waiting for them. 'Are you sure you don't have a mutant power?' asked Pete, as he continued down the stairs. 'You know I don't,' replied Max. 'Just natural skill honed by the finest training in the world.' 'I actually meant a mutant power for falling over,' muttered Pete under his breath and was rewarded by a quick elbow in the ribs from Kitty. 'Max, there it is,' said 99, pointing to a metallic box resting on the other side of the large room they had descended into - a room that was actually more like a cavern, hewn into the bedrock of the Lodge. 'They've built it, 99,' said Max, softly and went to cross to the Demon-o-matic. He fell over again, his wet shoes slipping on the rock floor. Pete helped him up as Kitty and 99 ran to the box. So they were separated when the apertures in the walls opened and swivelled and gun-toting goons suddenly surrounded the four agents. 'See,' Max whispered to Pete. 'I said they were really big henchmen. Let me deal with this.' Pete opened his mouth to protest, but Max had already started. 'I don't know why you're all pointing guns at us,' said Max. 'Would you believe that we're innocent tourists who have got lost while looking for the monastery?' The largest henchman looked at Max in surprise. 'I find that quite hard to believe,' he said. 'Would you believe that we're research scientists specialising in studying cavernous basements?' 'No,' said the henchman. 'Then how about interior decorators concerned about the poor use of space and light in this building?' 'MR SMART,' yelled the Craw, appearing at the top of the stairs. 'They will not berieve you, Mr Smart. They know who you are. I have been expecting you.' 'The Sinister Craw,' said Max. 'I should have known you'd turn up.' 'No, not the Craw! The CRAW!' shouted Craw. 'That's what I said,' replied Max. 'You really have to work on your anger management, Craw.' Pete studied the man in front of them, intrigued by the purple colour rapidly suffusing his face. 'You're not related to Mr Sinister, by any chance?' he asked. 'Who? What? No!' shouted the Craw. 'Just curious,' shrugged Pete. 'So, would you believe that I can set fire to this place just by waving my hand?' he said and casually let hot-knives sprout from his fingers and dance above them. 'I do berieve you, Mr Wisdom,' said the Craw, startling Pete. 'Would you also berieve that your ex-correagues in Brack Air equipped this room with a mutant-dampening field which,' he raised his metallic hand, 'I can activate just by fricking my rittle finger.' He matched word to deed, flicking his smallest metal finger (a suspiciously shiny and new small metal finger with, rather surprisingly, a small cocktail fork stuck to it). Pete watched his hot-knives flicker and die above his fingers. 'Actually I would believe that,' he said, wryly. 'So we're at a stand-off,' said Max. 'A stand-off?' replied Craw and laughed the patented "evil genius" laugh. 'You are surrounded by my men, all with rarge guns, utterly helpress and you call it a stand-off? You are much mistaken, Mr Smart.' 'No I'm not,' shouted Max, whipping his own pistol out of his jacket pocket. He was more than a little disconcerted when it flew out of his grasp and through the air, until it clanked onto the Craw's metal hand. 'Don't tell me,' said Max, 'the old magnetic metallic hand trick.' 'Yes, Mr Smart, the old magnetic metarric hand trick.' The Craw's smile was slightly strained as he attempted to detach the pistol from his hand. 'I asked you not to tell me that,' said Max. 'It appears that at rast I shall have the preasure of defeating you,' said the Craw, giving up and leaving Max's pistol stuck to his hand. 'Defeating you and finishing the Demon-o-matic - ah, yes, this is a fine day indeed for the Sinister Craw.' 'Yes, it is,' said Bobo. 'Thank you, Bobo,' smiled the Craw. 'You do realise what the Demon-o-matic will do? Bring Hell on Earth? I didn't think even an evil genius would want that.' Pete's voice was deceptively casual. 'I don't pran to use the Demon-o-matic, Mr Wisdom,' said the Craw. 'Just threaten to use it. How much money do you think the governments of the world will pay me just to make sure I don't use it? And that *is* a rhetorical question.' The Craw demonstrated his excellent smirk technique. 'I can see why KAOS made you Vice-President in charge of Terror, Smuggling and Extortion,' said Max, in reluctant admiration of the whole evil plan. 'Except for the fact that *we* have the Demon-o-matic,' announced Kitty from the other side of the room. All of the men in the room turned suddenly to the almost-forgotten women, to find Kitty and 99 clinging hard to the Demon-o-matic. 'You think so,' said the Craw. 'You reckon without my magnetic hand, Ms Pryde, Agent 99.' He held his hand up and directed it at the Demon-o-matic. His face changed colour, strained as the two women clung frantically to the bucking machine, holding it back from the Craw by bodyweight and force of will. 'I will have the machine,' screamed Craw and shook his hand, a sudden whine emanating from it as he cranked it up into overdrive. 'Boss,' shouted Bobo and then his voice was lost in the sudden terrible clanging as every gun flew towards the Craw, followed by the heavy body of the Demon-o-matic as Kitty and 99 let it go. There was time for the Craw to give one terrible shriek and then he was overwhelmed as twenty guns, three henchmen who hadn't let go in time, two litterbins, three forks, thirteen sets of keys and the Demon-o-matic all hit him at the same time. Kitty and 99 grinned at each other. 'I love it when a plan comes together,' said Kitty. 'You've been watching too much bad 80's American TV,' observed Pete, as he looked down on the great mass of metallic debris that hid the Sinister Craw. 'Nothing wrong with The A-Team.' Kitty defended her favourite trashy TV program stoutly. 'Max, are you alright?' asked 99. 'I'm fine,' said the spy. He looked in satisfaction at the heap of metal. 'I think we can safely say that the Sinister Craw has been defeated this time.' There was a long silence and Pete wondered where all of the burly henchmen had vanished to, but it appeared they had fled. 'So I guess it's time to call in a squad to clear this place up, arrest Craw and find the plans,' he said eventually. 'Indeed,' said Max. Pete and Kitty looked at him. 'What?' said Max finally. 'So don't you have a shoe phone?' asked Kitty, gently. Max looked a little sheepish. 'They don't handle being immersed in a peat bog at all well,' he confessed. 'So what about you, 99?' Pete asked. 'Do you have a shoe phone?' 'Yes, 99,' said Max. 'Do you have a shoe phone?' He had never thought to ask his wife that question. 'No Max, I don't,' she said and then pulled a small cellphone out of her pocket. 'But I do have this,' she said sweetly and dialled for the Chief. * * * * * * Pete Wisdom was doing his best mysterious stranger look, trenchcoat fluttering in the breeze, hands in pockets, standing and staring moodily down into the canal at his feet. 'Kitty told me I'd find you here,' said Max. Pete nodded. 'I hear you're going back today,' he said. 'We're all finished now,' said Max. 'The Craw's been arrested, the Demon-o-matic destroyed, the plans safely recovered, the henchmen fled. It's time to go back home, to what I do best.' 'Falling over?' asked Pete, but Max ignored him. 'Fighting evil,' he continued. He cleared his throat slightly. '99 wanted you to know - if ever you come to America - you're always welcome to visit.' 'Thanks, Max,' said Pete. 'It's been - interesting - to work with you.' 'And you,' said Max, awkwardly. 'If you want to call - well, you've got the number of my shoe-phone.' Pete smiled suddenly. 'I certainly do,' he smirked. 'Well, bye,' said Max and walked away. 'Bye,' said Pete, staring down in the murky waters of the canal. Somewhere far below the water, a shoe (tied to a lead weight just to be certain) rang, a sad, burbling, ring that could only just be heard by the watcher on the surface. 'And loving it,' said Pete softly. The End Yes, there really was a Portable Cone of Silence - it appeared in one episode only and was ludicrously funny. I did see a picture of it on the Net, but can't find it now . Amanda wolf@ozdocs.net.au Worried you can't get published? The worst lines in published works - a series. "They were oil and water, but together they dressed the salad of life."