Kit Fancy Universe: Enter Nigel Watts
Reported by Mink

Nigel Watts knew he shouldn't be here.

He shouldn't be anywhere near here. He in fact, should not even have been involved in any way at all. Why the Agency had sent him into the field was, he personally felt, a misjudgment on the grandest of terms. He had tried to obey his orders and maintain his vigil in the vast carpark just outside the target complex but things had gone downhill rather quickly. Less than one hour after Agent Fancy had vanished into the foreboding black building, a passing security guard had taken a much too good a look at Watts' carefully forged digital passcard and freshly decaled corporate vehicle.

So, in his own best judgment, (or field agent initiative as they called it) Watts had slipped away while the guard was occupied with his hand radio and the confusing quandary of Watts' presence and valid, yet invalid ID. Ducking behind a low line of shrubs, Watts considered his options. Walk the 6 kms of wide open and monitored access road it took to get here, or enter the facility at the service entrance as Agent Fancy had. With not many directions to go in, Watts took a deep breath, tried as much as he could to look relaxed, and he strode up to the loading ramp to flash his ID across the scanner at the door.

To his utter amazement it worked perfectly.

Once inside and after nodding to several uniformed people who paid him no mind after one glance at the ID that now hung around his neck by a chain, he promptly and efficiently became quite lost.

After wandering around in the dark maze of the place, he was about to give up and try to maybe perhaps retrace his steps back to the loading area when, instead, someone found him. After the exciting few moments in which Watts did not yet know the owner of the pistol pressed to his temple, he started to breathe once again when he saw the agent he was supposed to be waiting for outside. Kit Fancy was less than pleased as he looked him up and down as though he had spotted an elephant at a garden party.

"You are all over their security band." He said.

Watts bit at his lip. So that carpark chap must called in his Watts false story and his fake access code.

"Well, you see, I eluded capture?" Watts began to explain apologetically. "It was only a matter of time before they would have decoded my card and oh yes I know you told me to wait but I-well, it was frightfully impossible you see-"

Agent Fancy silenced him by holding up his primed and ready pistol with the grip flat to Watts face, but his eyes were trained down the dim length of hall towards a large and impressively solid metal security door. He appeared to be listening to something.

Watts looked around anxiously trying not to breathe so he could identify what the Agent was on intent on hearing. He couldn't discern a thing besides the low hum of the light grid above and his own pounding heartbeat.

Agent Fancy nodded to himself as he quite calmly sheathed both of his weapons and then removed what Watts knew was a small hand held gas mask. Compact, light and a lovely shade of lavender, it fit snugly over the nose and mouth with the aid of a chemical seal adhesive. Watts smiled a little with pride when he saw it. He had been on the R&D team that made it but it was Watts suggestion that it be modified by the field agents themselves. In fact, Agent Fancy had selected its color.

His smile flickered when he saw Agent Fancy was arming it.

"Er, sir? Are we expecting a-"

"Shush."

As Watts floundered on how to respond to being told not to respond, the most extraordinary thing began to happen all around them. With a series of sharp clicks, the walls opened up in countless small holes and then, much to Watt's alarm, suddenly extruded metal nozzles. With that, Agent Fancy pressed the mask over Watts mouth and held it there.

"Watts?"

"Yes-yes sir?" Watts shifted uncomfortably, his voice suddenly electric as it was picked up on the mask's internal mouthpiece.

"O2 duration?"

"Er, um, It lasts for up to 1 hour before you must replace the filter but it only provides 10 minutes worth of oxygen if that happened to be your predicament." Nigel considered for a moment. "Perhaps 5 to 6 minutes if the subject is vocally active-"

"Then perhaps you should be quiet Nigel." Agent Fancy suggested.

Behind them, a steel plated door slid down and met the floor with a jarring CLANG effectively cutting off any escape. Watts looked at them round eyed as a noxious looking yellow gas began to loudly hiss from the shiny nozzles and rapidly fill the corridor. Frozen in place, Watts could not help but notice that Agent Fancy did not have another mask and was trying his very best not to cough.

"Pardon me, sir but erm, is it poisonous?"

Agent Fancy swayed, his grip that held the mask firmly to Watt's face slipping. He blinked slowly behind his augmented Gucci shades. "U-unknown."

Nigel's eyebrows went up when Agent Fancy, in an unusual and unexpected yet graceful manner, crumpled heavily to the metal grill of the hall floor.

"Oh." Watts looked down at the comatose agent with a small worried frown. "Oh dear."

Nigel squeezed his eyes shut waiting for the next barrage of the defense system but instead of more of the gas, a whirring replaced the loud hiss that he recognized as a ventilation system began clearing the passage of the fumes. Gripping the small face mask with white knuckles he tentatively removed it when air appeared clear. The trap was set off and surely someone was on their way to see by exactly what.

"Agent Fancy?" Two fingers pressed to the Agent's neck gave Watts a great deep sigh of relief but the relief did not last long.

A small tinny burst of static and a series of beeps almost shattered the already frayed set which were Nigel Watts nerves. Then he heard a small crisp voice.

"Agent Fancy- Stand by."

Nigel fumbled for the small transmitter on Agent Fancy's belt. The ear piece that kept it silent had been knocked loose. Nigel desperately found the talk back. "Wh-what's that? Err, say again, control?"

"Corridor clear- proceed with extreme caution. Target acquisition in 2 minutes 34 seconds. Control out."

"Target??" Nigel hissed in an effort to be quiet. "Control?" He whispered forlornly. The transmitter was silent.

Suddenly, two dark blue rotating warning lights came to life on either side of the massive vault door swinging their glare crazily against the walls. A heavy mechanism somewhere in the walls boomed and the steely gray door began to grind open.

Watts realized his mouth was hanging open so he shut it.

"Oh.....well, oh my."

In the Academy, Watts mused, you were put through countless situations like this. Each more difficult than the last until your body and mind were so honed that you soon reacted based purely on instinct and your highly trained razor sharp perception.

Unfortunately the academy was a rather long time ago and Nigel Watts had only taken the crueling prerequisite three month stint in basic training before thankfully pursuing his real, and less painful, interest in the Academy's Technology Labs.

However, he felt he should tally his successes and not his failings. He had thus so far successfully eluded capture. He'd even escaped a paralyzing bio toxin. And now he was perfecting his fireman's carry. Watts was fairly certain he'd never seen Agent Fancy eat anything other than sparkling water and his weight certainly seemed to reflect it. He listened to the vault door cycling closed far above them as he made his way down the ill lit staircase he had discovered beyond it. The only way he knew in or out of this place seemed to be now effectively no longer an option.

When he finally reached the bottom he quickly rounded a corner which revealed yet another seemingly abandoned hallway. He slid Fancy off his shoulders and set him as well as he could manage so he could try to get his bearings.

Target.

Caution.

2 minutes and 34 seconds?!

Checking his watch it was more like 1 minutes and no seconds by now.

He tentatively eased one of the infamous firearms from the holster at Fancy's thigh and delicately hefted the weight of it in his hand. It was heavier than he expected as he aimed it experimentally at the far end of the empty corridor.

"Right. I guess it's up to me then." Watts stood up straight and adjusted his lapels. How hard could it be? Wait for the target to look the other way and then do his job! What that was exactly he wasn't sure. He hadn't been briefed on the details other than how long to wait in the car.

The sound of approaching voices stilled him and he felt his confidence flag momentarily. His attention went down in alarm to Agent Fancy who had been carefully balanced in a sitting position, but had since slumped back down onto the floor.

In a panic, Watts grabbed him under his arms and dragged him back to the stairs. "I apologize sir, but there isn't much of a choice!" Watts lugged Agent Fancy's inert body into the dusty shadows under the stair well. Draping his own dark coat over the agent he was satisfied that he was practically invisible to the passerby. He remembered to quickly unhook the transmitter from the weapon belt before he himself ducked around the opposite corner.

He waited tensely, the gun raised against his chest and ready. This wasn't so bad. He allowed himself a small cocky nod and readjusted his grip on the awkward firearm. He may not be a field agent but by God, he knew how to use a gun. He had, after all, been second in his class at the shooting range in his 3rd year-

"Freeze."

Watts swallowed the sudden heavy lump in his throat as he felt the hard business end of what he was sure was a light machine gun by the sound of the spring fed magazine being jammed into its chamber.

Agent Fancy's pistol was yanked out of his hand and he was pushed forward.

"Don't turn around." They told him.

Watts clenched his fists. This was it, it was all over and done with. This was the life of the field agent. Its hazards and pitfalls. Its gloriously horridly painful end. One bullet to the back of his head and his dossier would be filed under Terminated in the home office and maybe they would have some kind of small service-

"Walk."

Watts automatically laced his hands behind his head and obeyed when the muzzle of the gun nudged him between the shoulder blades. He fought the hopeful smile that wanted appear on his face when they passed the stair well without a pause. No one was dead just quite yet. Maybe it wasn't all finished after all.

Nigel Watts studied the room with a professionals interest. As an employee of a likewise privately owned and financed institution he understood the joys of sometimes a staggering budget in which to play that the public sector very often did not enjoy.

However, this facility that had so recently incarcerated him humbled even his own imagination of what he frequently aspired his own multimillion and by no means shabby work place. He had to remember to refrain from asking questions about the tantalizing mysterious equipment that hummed and blinked around him. Imagining what Agent Fancy would do made him steel his resolve to be stoic and impenetrable. He tried to set his eyes in the most hostile manner possible.

"He couldn't be alone." A man growled. "Lock down it all down, don't let anybody in or out of here."

Two men in suits were also in the room with him and had been for some time discussing his presence. One still held the machine gun that had been until recently, shoved up against his back. The other had been holding a small case that was now sitting along side Agent Fancy's recovered and fully loaded pistol on the table in front of him.

However, Watts found the aluminum case with the clear plexi cover much more interesting than Fancy's gun. Watts almost did not dare believe his eyes but there was no way he could be mistaken. It was what appeared to be a prototype of, as far as Watts knew, a rumor based only method of memory storage. The military and the Agency itself had been working on the concept for years to rid themselves of the heavy and space taking computer bulk of their mission guidance systems, assault aircraft and even small hand held weaponry. How had they overcome the power source problem? And what metal compound had they used that wouldn't get fried by the heat the source inevitably generat-

Watts froze still. This was it. This must be the target! His heart pounded in his chest as he realized this invariably had to be the reason they were sent here. Agent Fancy was supposed to retrieve this case.

The men continued to argue and because of his lack of defiance, had started to ignore him. But not enough for the one to lay down his machine gun. Watts looked the long black of its muzzle as he sat thinking. Whomever had decided that they carry those bulky weapons in a closed environment like this was not very smart. Even first year Academy aids knew that those types of weapons were designed for the least amount of aim or even accuracy. All they did was lay down a devastating field of fire power which was better used in an outdoor theater-

Watt's eyes widened. Of course! He grinned at the irreplaceable and expensive machinery that cluttered the room from top to bottom. Watts paid particular attention to the large white tanks of compressed Hydrogen that were by the door.

Eyeing the memory chip, Watts waited for them both to turn their backs.

It happened. Whispering a quick and powerful prayer, Watts stood up and one hand reached out and grabbed the small aluminum case the chip sat in and with the other tossed his chair over the table and directly at the men.

The chair caught the men completely off guard and he was already half way to the door when he heard the automatic go off over the other unarmed mans' fierce protests of the bullets that were striking and obliterating everything in their path. A strife of bullets lay into the door way just as he dove through it and hit the floor.

Watts ran.

He had made one of the twelve turns he had memorized on the walk there when all of a sudden he was fairly certain one of the bullets of the machine gun had struck, quite unfortunately for anyone near by, one of the Hydrogen tanks.

He was tossed to the floor as the explosion rocked the building. Groaning, he rolled onto his back and unbelievably, standing over him, and although grimacing and a shade of green that made a hang over look like a bit of fun, was none other than Agent Fancy.

"Sir! How did you know wher-"

Agent Fancy knelt down and took back his transmitter and tapped it. "My gun?"

Watts tossed his arm over his head as a roiling wave of fire erupted from a next by doorway, blowing the door outwards and sending the searing heat of the flames that quickly and ravenously spread above them on the ceiling.

"Er, well sir," Watts said, as he hurriedly and eagerly followed Agent Fancy to what he hoped was a quick way out. "I shall have to make you a new one."

Mother herself was waiting at their debriefing.

As usual she kept her office and herself in shadow and her audience in light while holding any type of meeting. In all the years and encounters Watts had had which were important enough to do in person with the director of the Agency, he had never once seen her face. All he could see was the profile of her chair, the soft blue glow of her computer screen and the ever present flanking assistants. And, as usual, her stern and commanding voice always made Watts more than just a little bit intimidated.

"Do you have anything to inform me of Agency Fancy that I cannot see played hourly on the BBC news?"

Fancy shifted. "Negative."

"Wait!" Watts stepped up nervously but excited despite himself. "Er, no mam, well, here!"

Agent Fancy looked at him sideways in question as he placed the dented case on the table.

Mother was silent. "Unless that is General Takana's head, Agent Watts, I am not sure I understand the meaning of this."

"H-head?" Watts asked in a small voice.

"Agent's Fancy's mission was to assassinate the General during his tour of the plant facilities. Which, by the way, you were not authorized to burn to the ground." She sighed, "The General escaped unharmed, of course."

Watts blinked.

Mother motioned to her wired assistant to bring her the box. He retrieved it and returned into the shadows where Watts could hear her open it.

There was a stunned pause and audible excited voices that Mother had undoubtedly on video conference on her ear piece.

"Are you aware of what this is Agent Watts?"

"Erm, yes mam?" Watts conceded miserably.

There was another long pause as she conferred quietly with her staff. And her superiors. Nigel Watts swallowed nervously at the thought of whomever it was that could tell Mother what to do. She finally addressed him again.

"Well Watts, I believe this is grounds for a reassignment."

Watts looked down. "Yes mam."

"You'll be working on assignment with Agent Fancy from now on."

"Pa-pardon me mam??" Watts sputtered.

Agent Fancy lifted one eye brow but said nothing.

"You are both dismissed."

Watts walked out of the office numbly alongside Fancy, his head reeling. He waited until the relative privacy of the outer waiting area that he knew was bugged, filmed and monitored more closely than the Hope Diamond, but he couldn't help himself.

"Can you believe that! My word. A field Agent! Me! My word." Watts marveled. "What do you think of that sir? Old Watts on assignment!"

Watts turned to share his astonishment with the Agent but he found he was all alone in the room but for the well armed Asian secretary behind the marble desk that was cycling through phone calls with the efficiency of a robot.

The far off door to the ground floor was swinging shut.

"Yes," Watts smiled a small half smile to himself. "Imagine that."