First I should apoligise. I have neglected this here account for the last few months, and I shan't allow that to happen again. All the stuff I put on Ao3 and deviantart will be uploaded post haste, and I might see about getting some FFN only oneshots up or something.
In any case, this is a plot bunny that I just had to feed. Enjoy!
Prologue
His name was Clancy and he worked for the government.
Officially, he was a clerk in Washington, doing desk work for the Office of Strategic Services. He was an ordinary, somewhat nebbish looking man with a trim moustache, and he wore a nondescript black suit (as was OSS standard). He looked like a pencil-pusher and most dismissed him quickly. This worked well for him, as in actuality he was a secret agent.
Clancy worked at the Extraterrestrial Desk, an office that officially didn't exist and unofficially was based out of a broom cupboard between Temporal Affairs and the MK-MEGA guys. The job sounded exciting but was for the most part very boring, usually requiring agents to drive to empty patches of desert to verify a crashed UFO claim which enviably ended up being either a weather balloon or a crashed air force rocket. A few times they had gotten actual UFO alerts, but they were either far away in Korea or already gone by the time any agents could be sent out.
It was a source of much amusement within the OSS that almost everyone at the Extraterrestrial Desk had never actually seen an alien.
Almost.
When he had been a boy in rural Appalachia, Clancy had been avidly interested in UFOs. He had learned everything there was to know about the 1947 Corona UFO Incident (at least everything that wasn't classified) and was making his own star charts at fifteen. When he moved to Delmarva for college, he had been delighted to learn that there were apparently 'strange magical women' living in a town not far from him, and had immediately investigated.
But that was nearly twenty years ago now. Clancy didn't like to think about it.
Unfortunately, it had just come up in conversation.
"Sir, I'd really rather not," he said to his boss as they sat in the stuffy, warm office.
"Too bad, Clancy," said the Department Head gruffly, "You're the only person we have with any experience in this matter."
"I promised myself I'd never go back to Beach City," replied Clancy.
"Then unpromise yourself," grumbled the Head, "Because this one comes down from on high?"
"How on high?"
"The President's office."
The Head reached into his drawer and pulled out a file.
"There is an object being kept in Beach City," he said, "It is codenamed..."
"PHILOSOPHER, sir," interrupted Clancy, "I'm aware of it. My first job with the OSS was to hide it."
"Well ain't you special?" grunted the Head, "Well, the President doesn't want it hidden anymore. We've had several UFOs detected over the country in the last year and it's got the White House running around like a pack of headless chickens. They want that object for research."
"What do they want to do with it?" asked Clancy.
"They want to understand it, son," replied the Head.
"So they can make weapons from it?" demanded Clancy, "They do know that nobody knows what it does, right?"
"Hence the word 'research'," said the Head, "Clancy, I know you've got a personal problem with this, but you're not getting out of this. You're going to Beach City if I have to drag you there myself."
Clancy sighed.
"In and out, right?" he asked, "I just pick it up and drive straight back?"
"That's the plan," nodded the Head.
Clancy sighed again and stood up.
"Better start driving, then," he said, "Do I have a partner?"
"You're picking up a artefact, not taking on the mob," snapped the Head, "One agent is enough."
Clancy nodded.
"I'll be right back, sir," he said.
The Head nodded back.
"Best of luck," he said, "Agent Miller."
I'm sure this will be a straight-forward day-trip where nothing will go wrong.
