AN: Yes, short little story written just for kicks. It follows on the Billy subplot in the Secret Snake Club episode. Why? Because it's most probably my favorite episode yet. Whether or not I'm continuing this depends entirely on… well, I have no idea. I might continue it, I might not. I might let you decide. Who knows?

Disclaimer: Don't look at me for anything. All other than the plot of this fic belong to Maxwell Atoms. Bloody genius…

Covert Ops: With Special Agent Billy

By Fizzy 13

Be advised: The following transcript is classified and is only accessible to officers with Blue Level clearance or higher. Failure to comply with agency policy will merit unsightly consequences.

CIA Recruitment Log: Endsville Department, Junior Agent ID No. 42 "Billy"

Part 1

"Billy": "Wow! Junior C-I-… A! How do I join?"

"Joe": That's classified.

"Billy": What do I get to do?

"Joe": That's classified.

"Billy": Do I at least get some good refreshments?

"Joe": He knows too much. Send in the cleaners.

Part 2

"Holmes": So you want to join our organization, eh?

"Billy": What organization?

"Holmes": The CIA.

"Billy": D, E, X, G

"Holmes": Wha?

"Billy": J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q R S, T U Z, Now I know my ABCs, next time won't you sing with me?

"Holmes": Do you think you have what it takes to be a part of this agency?

"Billy:" I have a rash on my butt! My mom says not to touch it, but I touch it anyway.

"Holmes": Oookay…

"Billy": Please don't tell my mom! Are you invisible?

"Holmes": No, I'm in another room…

"Billy": The bathroom?

"Holmes": … What if we wiped your mind and turned you into a covert warrior?

"Billy": I LIKE FRENCH FRIES!

Log End

And that was how it started, mostly. Who would've thought that some flatulent, large-nosed 10-year-old with an IQ of -5 being at the right booth at the right time would turn out to be such a successful operative? In a span of one month, "Junior" Agent Billy had shot up from the mere field operator responsible for the capture of Leaky Cologne and Irwin/Jimmy the Jackal on the same day, to the section chief of the Endsville department. Why? Because he was just that good.

And it was that very reason why at the moment, three MH-60 Black Hawks loaded with the CIA's elite spook commandos were hovering above an old, seemingly abandoned candy factory on the edge of Endsville in broad daylight. Its aforementioned payload was fast-roping down into the decrepit structure with the grace of silence itself, sneaking inside as soon as they landed.

Speaking of the inside, the candy factory wasn't as abandoned as one would think. The agents were immediately met with heavy resistance. It was the clowns. Rubber bullets flew in one general direction, and cream-filled pies of assorted flavors flew in the other. What had started off as a simple commando raid had turned into a mess of pastries and bruises. Eventually, the superiorly armed and trained force won, the remainder of the clowns surrendering. They knew they were beat.

Not all was well on the agency's side, however. The pies had actually hit some people, and they were surprisingly more effective than expected. Several stretchers brought in by medical crew were already loaded and en route to the nearest ambulances. The commander surveyed the area. Other than that, the operation was going well. Time it was, to bring in the B-Man. "The building is secured, sir. You're cleared for entry."

It was at that moment that the front door burst open in the fury of a pound or two of C-4. Special Agent and Section Chief Billy walked in, flanked by two junior agents. He approached one of the clowns who was being restrained, identifying him as the leader. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Bozo the clown himself."

The clown grunted and proceeded to correct his captor. "Pennywise."

"Whatever," Billy cleared his throat and continued his wordy gloating, "Think you can just commit your heinous crimes on my turf and get away clean, eh? Think you can just use my town as a testing site for your latest nefarious WMD and not get caught, eh? Think you can just… uh… fool around with me on the case, eh? Well guess what! You can't!"

It was at that moment that Pennywise decided to spurt out a modification of one of pop culture's most suitable quotes, "And I would've gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for you meddling CIA Agents." He turned to glance at the bomb squad dog that was sniffing around for whatever hidden explosives there might be, "And your dog, too."

"Idle threats, Pantyhose, idle threats."

"For the last time, you bloody idiot, it's Pennywise!"

The gloating was interrupted as an agent in a Hazmat suit came in to report. "Well?"

"We've confirmed it, sir. Their Orbital Pie Launcher is at 98 percent completion. If we hadn't dropped in when we did, God knows what could've happened to Endsville."

Billy's already tense expression intensified. That was a really close call. Now came the deciding question: "What flavor were they planning to use for the filling?"

"Coconut Cream, sir," was the deadpan and, in a way, dread-filled response.

It seemed that a vein in Billy's head exploded at that moment, reflected by how his mouth evolved into a toothy snarl. "YOU. MONSTER." This was followed by a slap so powerful that the 10-year-old had to blow on his throbbing palm afterward. He turned to the commandos handling the clown. "Get this… abomination… out of my sight. And put him on Level 42 Lockdown while you're at it."

The agents in question saluted and took their quarry away.

Slightly relieved that it was over, Billy stepped outside and stared at the bright sun as it continued its journey west, sunglasses making sure that the UV light wasn't going to kill his eyesight anytime soon. And that was when he realized it. It was never over. It was never going to be over. If ever he died in action, that's all he was going to be – another nameless, faceless star on the wall at Langley. He adjusted his shades and panned his view down to the polis that this hill overlooked, so beautiful in its relatively public peace. None of the people there knew how close they came to total annihilation.

He stared down at a rather well-sized modern house down the road. A vaguely familiar little girl was apparently staring back at him, twin spires of her blonde hair glistening rather menacingly in the mid afternoon sunlight. She'd eventually grow up to be a threat to national security. There was no doubt about that. And when the time came, she'd have to be eliminated for that very same reason. And he would make sure that would happen. Even if he needed to pull the trigger on her himself.

"Sir," an agent disturbed his musings, "Langley wants to talk to you."

Billy nodded and switched frequencies on his comms watch. "Yes sir?"

"Agent Billy, as you know, we've been trying to expand on the Junior Agent project as of late – we know that you handling an entire agency section by yourself must be hard. So I'm suggesting you choose an assistant or two from your old acquaintances, and bring them in for interrogation and recruitment. This will be marked as your next assignment. Any qualms with this?"

"None, sir. It's all for national security after all."

"That's a good boy. HQ out."

Old acquaintances, eh? He was going to have to think this one over. Who could be reliable enough not to spill the beans on this? Well. He'd find out soon enough. He looked over to that girl once again; apparently, her gaze had not been averted, almost as if she knew he was there, knew that he was watching her. This sent some unnatural chill up his spine. "Time to set up the ol' recruiting booth again, I guess."

The End?