The Lost Pete
Chapter One
Guess what? I'm back! And to commemorate my return to FanFiction, here is my first ever Warehouse 13 story!
Endless wonder.
That's what lines each of the towering shelves filling the massive warehouse. Each item buried in this vault screamed of it. The aisles practically sparked of this unique supernatural charge. The historic relics and family heirlooms on every shelf emitted a field of mysterious electricity that would build and build until it discharged itself in one big ball along the aisles.
If you peered close enough, you could even recognize a few: John Wilkes Booth's boot, Robin Hood's crossbow, Alfred Hitchcock's showerhead, Elizabeth Bathory's bathtub. Each artifact held its own story and, thus, its own side effect.
In one aisle, you would find George Reeves' eyeglasses. Once worn, they give the wearer the increased eyesight of his character Superman. Unfortunately, they will also cause you to be shot through the head if worn anytime between midnight and seven a.m.
In another aisle, Man Ray's camera lay on the shelf, its recovery and deactivation proving to almost be an agent's undoing.
In another aisle, you would find the Niagara Falls barrel. It allows a person to survive falls from high places. It also gives said person the strong desire to do it again.
It was for these reasons and so much more that each of these artifacts was hunted down and placed in the Warehouse, where it could do no more harm. If properly placed and maintained, that is. Which had prompted the discussion among the agents in the office upstairs.
"It is so your turn to flush the Gooery!" Warehouse Agent Myka Bering said with an accusatory finger pointed at her partner.
"Me?" exclaimed Agent Pete Lattimer. "You took a sick day last time! I had to do it! And it puked all over me!"
"I had to take that sick day because you whammied me with Howard Hughes' cane!" Myka shouted back.
"Hey, I have apologized about that time and time again!" Pete told her. "It was an accident!"
"It's still your turn!" Myka insisted.
"Enough, you two!" their boss Artie Nielsen shouted as he turned in his seat at his desk. "You can both go flush the Gooery!"
"But, Artie—" they began.
"Now!" Artie told them, going back to his computer.
Myka huffed out a sigh as she thumped her hands onto her hips, pursing her lips and jutting her neck sideways a little. She glared at Pete, pointing a finger at him. "This is your fault." She marched towards the door that lead to the rest of the warehouse.
"My fault?" exclaimed Pete, going after her. "If you would have just taken your turn, princess."
"It was never my turn," Myka argued back as they headed out onto the balcony. "You were—"
"Don't start with that," said Pete. "This is the third time in a row that I've…"
Their voices faded away as they headed down the stairs to the warehouse floor.
"Will those two ever get through one day without bickering?" Artie grumbled, putting in his search parameters for a new case.
The door of the umbilicus opened, and Claudia Donovan and Steve Jinks walked in.
"Did we just hear yelling?" asked Claudia.
"Oh, that," Artie brushed off. "That was nothing."
"Where are Pete and Myka?" asked Steve.
"They're the nothing cleaning out the Gooery," Artie told him.
"Oh," said Claudia, jumped over next to Artie's chair. "Got a new case? I could take care of it for you! Senior Agent Claudia Donovan to the rescue!"
"No," said Artie. "Nothing."
"Oh," said Claudia, deflating and plopping down into the other chair at the desk to wait for a ping.
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Pete and Myka made their way out of the Gooery, taking their purple gloves off and tossing them in the garbage bin just outside the door.
"Well, that was easy, for once," said Myka.
"Yeah, I know," said Pete. "Usually, one of us breaks something."
"Don't you mean 'you'?" Myka pointed out with a smile.
"Hey, that only happened twice!" Pete defended himself. "Claudia was the one that almost made it explode that one time!"
"Okay, okay, I'll give you that," nodded Myka. "You have never almost blown the Gooery up."
"Thank you, my lady," said Pete with a little bow.
"You are welcome," Myka responded with a chuckle.
They turned down an aisle as they made their way back towards the office.
"Hey, Mykes?" Pete spoke up.
"Yeah?" asked Myka.
"Got any pudding?" asked Pete.
Myka frowned as she gave him an exasperated look. "Why…would I have pudding, Pete?"
Pete shrugged. "Just asking. I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," said Myka.
"Hey, artifact hunting burns a lot of calories," said Pete. "How do you think I stay in such good shape? I mean, you don't just get a body like this." He began to pull his shirt up to show her. "You gotta—"
Myka held her hands up. "Pete, I have seen your shirtless before. Please don't."
Pete let the hem of his shirt fall back down to his waist. "You're just jealous."
"Oh, yeah, I'm jealous," said Myka. "That's it."
"Hey, you never know when you won't be able to look again," said Pete.
"I think I'll survive," said Myka.
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Steve sat at the table by the door, flipping through a book as he waited. Claudia was spinning in her chair, at a loss for something to do. Artie just kept typing away at the computer, searching for stray artifacts.
Claudia spotted a gold statue of a minotaur on the corner of Artie's desk. "Oh! New bling!" She jumped up to reach for it.
"Don't touch!" Artie yelled suddenly, spinning towards her with wide eyes. "That's the idol that buried Atlantis!"
Claudia immediately pulled away from it, frowning at Artie. "Really?"
"Yes," said Artie. "Any human contact triggers it. That's what caused Vesuvius to bury Pompeii in AD 79."
"You're saying this thing is responsible for the destruction of Pompeii?" asked Steve, pointing at the innocent-looking statue.
"And the burial of Te Wairoa in the eruption of Mt. Tarawera in 1886, the sinking of Heracleion in AD 7, the burial of Plymouth, Montserrat by the Soufriere Hills volcano in 1995, and the burial of the Greek city Helike in the earthquake and tidal wave of 373 BC," Artie went on.
"Wow…" said Steve, staring in apprehension at the idol.
"It is one of the most destructive artifacts in existence," said Artie. "So, don't…touch."
"If it's so dangerous, why is it still sitting out in the open?" Claudia asked.
"Leena is still trying to find a spot in the dark vault that agrees with it," Artie explained, going back to his computer.
"Agrees with it?" Steve asked, not understanding.
"Yeah, each artifact has to go in a certain spot or it'll act up," Claudia explained. "Believe me, we don't want them acting up."
The alarm on the computer went off, alerting them to an artifact that was acting up."
Artie pulled up the report. "Phoenix, Arizona. Three people have gone missing in the last week." He put a hand to his chin, thinking through his options. "It could be Jimmy Hoffa's ring. Or Amelia Earhart's compass."
"Ooh, ooh, me!" Claudia exclaimed. "This one has me written all over it."
"You still need to write the report from the last one," said Artie. "Go get Myka and Pete. They'll take this one."
Claudia huffed out a sigh. "Fine. Come on, Jinksy." She headed out the door as Steve followed her.
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Pete and Myka rounded a corner of a warehouse aisle, apparently still discussing food.
"What about cheesecake?" asked Pete.
Myka shrugged. "I don't know. I've never had much stomach for it."
"What?" Pete exclaimed. "How can you not like cheesecake? It's awesome!"
"Eh," said Myka.
"Well, you have to like pumpkin pie," Pete told her.
"Who doesn't?" said Myka.
Pete clapped a hand to his heart in relief. "Oh, thank God. She's human."
Myka laughed as they took another turn down an aisle.
"Myka! Pete!"
"Is that Claudia?" Myka asked in response to the faint voice.
"Myka!"
"And Steve," said Pete, raising his voice. "Over here! We're in, uh…" He looked around at the shelves of artifacts around them.
Myka rolled her eyes, raising her own voice. "Allentown C!"
"Got it!" Claudia called back.
Myka looked over at Pete. "You are never going to read the manual, are you?"
"Not likely," Pete responded, sitting on a crate in front of the shelves as they waited for their fellow agents to find them.
"So, basically, you're just going to rely on me for all the rules," said Myka.
Pete nodded. "Yep."
Myka sighed.
Pete looked over at one of the artifacts on the shelf: a pen and sheaf of paper. He read the placard next to it. "Stephen King's first draft of The Shining. Wonder what that was like to snag."
Myka stepped over to the shelf and began reading. "'Induces psychotic behavior, causing a person to kill their family.' Wow."
"You ever wonder if every urban legend, fairy tale and story has an artifact somewhere out there?" asked Pete.
Myka frowned as she turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"You know, Peter Pan, Bloody Mary, Snow White…" Pete rattled off. "The next case we go on could be Sherlock Holmes' pipe, and I wouldn't really be surprised."
"Actually, Sherlock Holmes' violin is in the Westminster aisle," Myka replied off handedly.
Pete jumped to his feet. "No way! Which way is Westminster?" He took off through the aisle.
"Pete!" Myka called, starting to go after him. "Wait! What about—"
At the end of the aisle, Pete collided with Claudia.
"Claudia!" Myka called, rushing towards them.
Pete bounced back from the run-in, hitting the shelf behind him.
"No, no!" Myka exclaimed as she rushed to brace the shelf with the others.
"Whoa!" Claudia exclaimed as they righted the shelf.
A set of blueprints rolled off of the shelf above them and toppled towards the floor.
"Ooh, get it, get it!" Steve told them.
Pete and Myka made a grab for them, but they hit the floor, lighting up and starting to emit a growing hum.
"What's happening?" asked Pete, staring in trepidation at the artifact. "What's it doing?"
Myka quickly looked up at the sign it had fallen from.
David E. Miller's blueprints…He invented the first electro-magnetic pulse simulator…
Myka looked back down at the glowing blueprints as the hum grew in pitch, winding up for something. "Take cover!"
"What?" said Pete. "Why?"
Myka turned to throw herself to the floor, and the others took their cue from her. As they darted for cover, a shockwave ripped itself from the blueprints, hitting all of them and throwing them down the aisle.