Who: Pete Wisdom, Nick Fury What: Daisies! And a meeting to find out WTF IS GOIN ON?! (with a whole lot of YEAH THAT WAS SOMEONE ELSE OK?!), followed by stuff Fury's got in mind involving taco trucks. Mmm taco especial. ;D When: Uhh...todayish! Sometime after the message from Fury that derailed into hilarious fun times <3 Where: Orange County somewheres Rating: PG13 but prob just for languageness, if that. Status: Complete!
Fury arrived at the place they'd chosen to meet, and, just to be an asshole, had brought along a couple giant daisies with a huge bow. Featuring ducks. He was ready to get the details of whatever had been going on with the Wisdom bit lately because really? Clarification needed, seriously.
Seriously, it probably did need...something. Although actual clarifying probably wasn't going to be...clarified. Mr. Oblivious is oblivious and even thought that Mr. Fury of the FBI wasn't going to be bringing him daisies.
That's why, when he arrived, only slightly rumpled and hair mostly neat and tidy, he slid his sunglasses down on his nose and gave Fury a dry staring at of the 'o rly?' variety.
"Cheers. Now I know you really truly care, but m'spoken for," Pete said, with just the right note of sarcasm but with just enough warmth to sound friendly. And not like a total asshat prick on contact, surprisingly enough. "Are you buying as well? M'on a limited budget."
He plopped down across the table from Fury, prepared to eat some damn good curry, and find out what the sweet bejeezub was going on.
"Oh darling, of course I care. I'll pine forever for you." Fury agreed, not sure if this was the same Wisdom as before or...WHAT had been going on exactly. "So. Turns out you're apparently dead? I've been getting a whole hell of a lot of conflicting info on that little point. State secrets for a curry? I can handle that."
Pete nearly fell out of his chair sideways.
But before that could happen, he put both hands down on the table to steady himself, and maybe the table because stuff had clattered on it. Once he was sure nothing was going to fall over - in either case - he pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and squinted. Hard. In what looked to be the classic WUT U TALKING ABOUT WILLIS sort of way.
Just in case that wasn't clear enough, Pete made sure to ask, "Wot?" And that was followed by another, "Wot?"
Because he wasn't dead! He'd been in the middle of south-east Asia and nearly the Middle-East, knee-deep in drug busts and tracking down stolen passports for a while, and very much out of the loop in most modern day senses of...being in touch with stuff.
"Your uh...wife posted about THAT even, last night." Fury pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "Double life? Gardening parties of your own with the rest of the net, or something we've actually gotta look into? Cause I really don't want to have to move from this booth a while but, you know. Gotta do the job and all."
"WIFE?!" Pete cringed and then slapped one hand down over his face so hard, that it was going to leave a red mark imprint of his hand over his face. And really, when he pulled his hand away, there was a big pinkish mark there in the shape of his own hand. No burn needed. Good thing, too, that he pushed his sunglasses up.
"Uhh, sorry t'inform you," Pete said, looking pretty gobsmacked at all of this news, "but I've ne'er been married, only been engaged once, an' this is the first time I've been 'ere or talked t'you, in my entire bloody life. In fact, I used t'be Interpol but...an' they said it was safe t'talk t'you, yer on my contacts list...I sort o' got railroaded out t'Her Majesty's Secret You-Know-Wot an' that's why I'm 'ere. B'cos my government wants t'be kept up on weird happenings, an' this is one o' the seventh circles o' Hell, as far as weird's concerned. But no...no garden parties, or anything that I...was e'en aware needed lookin' into. Someone wanted t'be me? Really?"
That in itself was mind blowing. And that they got married and he was DEAD WHAT IN THE WHO WHERE NOW? Oh hell, that was...going to need taking care of.
"Look. I'm not dead. I have a girlfriend that really? I quite like, a whole fat lot. They've likely got my DNA on file somewhere in the ministry, an' it's simple enough t'prove I'm me. I've got all my documentation an' I've been sent 'ere on behalf of M.I.-thirteen, which is Weird Happenings. You can look into that. I'm supposed to be in contact with someone named Syd, if anything odd comes up. Surely that rings a bell, eh?"
That was a hint hint at Miss Sydney, right there. Or, at least Pete hoped, Fury knew who Sydney was. Since he was supposed to answer to her and was under her watch (or he was an observer of how they were handling things), in case things went tit's up in the O.C.
"There was a wedding a apparently." Fury told him shaking his head a little, amused. "Jaffa cake flavored cake was about the only detail I got there. "No, seriously. This thing happened with...one of you. Or a bunch of you who were pretending to be you. hell if I know anymore." That slapping? Yeah, that had been his reaction to the whole thing going down, really.
"Aww you mean we never met for secret information swapping and all that? Figures," he commented. "Damn, now I look all paranoid. Hate it when that happens. But yeah, since that wasn't you? You probably oughta know about it. " He shrugged a little. "Must've been a plant. But whose. I don't think people just go around choosing to be you cause it looks fun. So. Who killed... " Airquote "You, and where are 'you'," Again with the airquotes, now. "Worth us glancing at, I think. And seeing what she's ferreted out about all of that."
Pete had been shaking his head at mostly the whole thing, and looking like the entire planet had pretty much rolled over him, stopped, then backed up and rolled over him again. Pretty much, that's what all that felt like. And there was one thing that very much needed clarifying.
"I think jaffa cakes are all right, but...I don't like them enough to 'ave them in a wedding cake. I'd probably get sick all o'er the ruddy place," he explained, making a bit of a blech face because chocolate and orangey flavors, together, were something to be consumed in very, very small quantities. And only around Christmas Day. And even that was in the form of those chocolate oranges you bang on a countertop to bust apart the wedges, so you can eat it after unwrapping. "T'be honest though, I don't know. I had no idea that anyone was impersonating me. All I can do is inform my superiors that...some other me was here, probably...secret information swapping? Bugger. That sounds like a huge misinformation campaign, if e'er there was one."
That's the first and only thing that came to Pete's mind, but this was the first he'd heard of it, and so he shrugged and looked apologetic. It was a good occasion for a cigarette though, so he started to stand up, with the reassurance, "Look, m'not running. But I am going t'pop out for a cigarette. If you want t'come with, yer perfectly welcome to."
No, he wasn't lighting up inside. Even though he was sorely tempted, he still had some scruples, and he was on his way toward quitting anyway. But the thought of curry wasn't going to settle well on his stomach, not when there was...this sort of information being lobbed at him.
So smoking won over food. This time.
"Figured there was something going on when I first saw you pop up on the network." Fury nodded. "Did the verification thing that it was actually coming from a real life you, cause what the hell, people don't make that up out of nowhere, or you never THINK they do." He added, frowning.
"Enough to make anybody get a crazy headache, isn't it?" he added, a little sympathetic. "Thing is. Some of the tips were actually useful, actually right. So it'd be a gathering info on us bit. Which has me fucked pretty well." he added, shaking his head. "Misinformation on top of that? Not good." And hey, smoking made sense in this context. "Hell, this is the kind of situation that calls for a fifth of vodka." Fury commented, joining him.
"M'glad you verified, b'cos...right...this'...a huge mess an' it complicates things. I feel sorry for whoe'er it was that was married to any me's arse, t'be honest? I suppose...it's that woman that posted about a dead husband, isn't it?" Ugh, that couldn't be good. And if it was like that horribad Face/Off movie with John Travolta and Nicolas Cage, then if it was anyone wearing anything resembling his face, then being anywhere around that person wasn't advisable. Ever. No need adding insult to injury, or dredging up things like deceased anyones. "She's got my condolences."
Pete walked out of the place and to his car - a black convertible - and reached into a coat pocket to pull out a flask, and hold it out to Fury as he went for his cigarettes in the glovebox. All the while, he was trying to remain conversational...as much as he was capable of, at least, with a FBI director...and was still pretty damn disturbed by this.
"That's the only thing I can think of, but t'be honest, m'new to this whole spy bit. I was simply a overglorified police officer, an' happy at that, even if I hadn't seen the inside of me flat in over three years, for more than a day or two at a time. I didn't e'en move furniture into it," he confessed, with the shrug of a shoulder, and light a cig while holding the pack out to Nick, to see if he wanted one. "So misinformation, but right...that caused a security breech if he gave you any information. Not really want I would've e'er wanted t'do. M'not a huge monumental arse, despite wot people say."
"That'd be her." Fury agreed. "Sells weapons and SOMETHING or other." He didn't know details so much himself, more that stuff with her was all shadowy, but...not his place or assignment to check on that, so whether anybody knew or didn't know anything was kind of up for grabs. As for that movie? That was a weird weird thought. But Fury didn't THINK he'd been possessed or anything. Though, he squinted at Wisdom a long moment.
"You wouldn't have been possessed or mind wiped by chance, would you?" he asked, "and I hate that I sound totally serious and all, but aliens?" He tried, frowning. "Stranger crap's been happening out here, like you said. " "Oh damn." He added as the story went on. shrugging off the cigarette. Tempting but he didn't do that anymore. "Yeah, definite breech. Situation resolved but... God knows who got what out of it." That was a Fury SCOWL right there. "Nah, didn't get that impression somehow."
True that, and Pete listened to everything Fury was saying, making sour faces and scrunching his nose up like this was a fine mess that he really wished he wasn't part of. Because it was creepy and unnerving, and made him want to kill whoever it was that impersonated him and did things that were DEFINITELY without his consent. That thought right there rubbed him all sorts of wrong ways, because he wasn't getting married or any of that business, without his definite okay on going forward with it, and that was after a while of making absolutely CERTAIN he was compatible with the person who was going to have to put up with him, to whatever degree.
He wasn't looking for the barefoot and preggo housewife or picket fence or anything, but he wasn't exactly able to wrap his mind around marrying anyone that was noted as selling weapons, either. Or if he knew she was shadey, then he would think that one of them being a shadey sort was enough, not two smushed together. Not that danger was BAD or anything, but he just...little slices of normal were things to be cherished, because his entire life was one big crap shoot and anything normal he could get his hands on, was something he kind of wanted...or needed...to hold close.
But he wasn't about to go saying that right now, instead preferring to listen and watch Fury warily, even if he didn't get a bad read off the guy, surface-wise. He appeared to be just as rattled and angry about the whole mess, just as much as Pete found himself to be.
"M'cranky and apparently me girlfriend thinks Grumbles is a brilliant nickname for me," Pete explained after taking a rew long drags off his cigarette, "but m'not that bad. I hope. And as far as I know, unless I had the most boring mind-wipe by aliens, e'er? That week-long bout of diarrhea in Laos was a totally unnecessary piece of information. So, all I can do is cooperate e'en further. If you really want to check into it, contact Stuart with M.I.-thirteen. He's the one who snagged me for foreign assignment duty, and pulled me out of a perfectly good long-term sting for drug runners. The bastard. But you've got my full cooperation, e'en if I don't know a bloody thing about any o' this, or have the slightest clue who, wot, or where. Sorry, mate? Afraid I can't be of anymore help, there."
Could Fury have a bad read really? Maybe a perpetually 'well, now we're fucked. again' attitude, but that was kind of the OC status quo at this point for anybody in any kind of law enforcement, wasn't it? Might even be official at this point. He should probably ask somebody about this whole thing. "What's also fucked up is how the post went out about the whole thing." he muttered, scowling. "Damn technology. Let's hope they think it's seriously cause I think you've got a nice ass cause otherwise, we could be even more fucked." he added, shaking his head. "Won't erase no matter what I try."
And then he studied Pete as he finished off that next bit.
"Grumbles, huh? I can see it. And that could be the cover the aliens want you to disregard." he added, then shook his head. "Around here though? Pretty sure the aliens'd just come falling out of the sky and start begging to mate with us before anything else. Drug runners, huh?" He shook his head at that. "I miss when it was looking for the drug runners."
Well, aliens did have that whole unfortunate anal probe fetish. Pete kinda made a EH face and nodded like he agreed they would start begging for the mating before anything else. Like eating brains. Because zombie aliens could happen and were within the realm of possibility, Pete imagined.
"Right, real mess. But I think since the entire business was sorted for the most part, that's why they finally saw fit to call me back an' 'ave me stop hopping about all o'er the bleedin' planet. Thank god." He rolled his eyes and sighed. "You'd think there'd be more than enough drug runners this close to the border to Mexico. Could always go bust some. Maybe you could bring them daisies also."
Because nothing says you care, like reading someone their rights and giving them flowers. With duck bows. See? Nick Fury cares. Pete feels touched, in a special warm and fuzzy inside kinda way.
Otherwise, Pete was sure to further clarify, "Sorry as well, but I am definitely ME and I definitely have MY memories an' they 'aven't been fouled about with. Thank god, again. E'en if there were a few bingers and some things I could've done without living through or seeing. Speaking of which, now that I think on it...there was this old bastard police chief in Thailand who gave me a ton of strange starings at. But he didn't speak english, so it's not like I could get it out of him why he was looking at me like I'd turned pink and grew horns out of my forehead. Oh well. I hope it gets sorted, and I'll definitely be wary, as well as file the appropriate reports when I get 'ome. Then I'll wait for further instructions."
That could probably cause diarrhea too, if you really got into thinking about it. Not that it was something to mention. But when you considered the implications and all. Who knew what got shoved up there with the probe, am I right? Zombie aliens? Hmm. Creepy thought right there, wasn't it? Not good.
"Makes sense, yeah" Fury agreed. "Could be something internal they pulled with that too. Oh there's lots of drug runners. Some who even get pulled into it from this end for reasons I don't even want to ask said inside source about." he shook his head and sighed. "taco trucks. That's my only guess. Once there's a lull, it'd be fun for old time's sake. Thailand...Thailand's kind of on the strange side if you think about it as it is." And the horns, well? Fury takes a minute to picture that, since it might actually happen.
"If you want t'go watch some taco trucks, if that'd help you out somehow or other, then m'game. It's not like that's too terribly dangerous," Pete mused aloud, finishing his cigarette and putting it out, after he got into his car. "I'll have to pass on the curry though. Maybe we can 'ave another date, but I want t'get my superiors informed. Oh, here."
He scribbled out his contact information on the back of a receipt for a liquor store, and held it out to him.
"E'erything's there, from how to find me, to all my contact numbers. But you might want t'use an old flippy phone. Been notified that they're not broken like the rest of the phones seem to be. Less chance of things going unintended places. Oh, and...cheers for letting me know. At least I'll be more aware an' able t'watch my back more, in case people mistake me for fake me...which is all...really...a whole bloody confusing mess that...really don't want t'deal with either. But m'sure that feeling is mutual, all around."
Staking out taco trucks sounded brilliant, and it was a good way to get to know a valuable contact. By spending man time doing man stuff, like....riding along on drug busts. Explaining that to the girlfriend was going to be fun! But he'd play it safe, anyway. Mmhm.
"Sounds like a plan. Taco especial at some point in the future." Fury nodded at him. "I'll be in touch. Here's mine." he passed his over, since like hell he was using any networks at this point in his life. "Yeah, flippy phone's looking like the best idea ever, considering." He added, shaking his head ruefully. "Damn Stark networks. Remind me to go yell at him at some point in the future, yeah?" he asked. "And figured...yeah." he said, nodding at that. "Fake you didn't seem to have enemies so much but...think a slightly more annoying you and that's about what you'll be looking for people to be talking about." Man time! With somebody sane? Sign HIM up.
Pete took the slip of paper with a nod of his head in the affirmative, at all of that.
"Yeah, right. Tacos and...imagining me being slightly more annoying? If they did that, then they took it a bit too bloody far. M'not entirely...fine, I really don't get along with very many people as it is. Fuck it, no use candycoating it really, is there." He sighed and stared straight forward, pulling the sunglasses down over his eyes. "Let me know and I'll meet you where'er you'd like to keep an eye out. An' s'probably good t'not hole up in the girlfriend's, considering I'll mess up the place an' I need to keep an eye on weird things anyway. Like aliens. See you then, Fury."
Pete started the car with a wave, and knew he was in for at least 3892383 pages of paperwork and explanations for things he couldn't even begin to explain, because he didn't know anything about any of it. But the sooner it was done, the sooner - he hoped - everything could go back to a relative norm for everyone involved. Whatever a relative norm was, at least.