Hi again! I wrote this little one shot at about 1:30 in the morning! My brain was struck with this sudden inspiration! If you haven't read iThink you need help...you may want to do that first! Otherwise, there'll be a lot of spoilers in this story! But this is for all of you that read my first fic ever and enjoyed it! I hope you enjoy this oneshot as well!
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, just the old guy...with the Master Plan...lol
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"…That when you leave that closet, you will be proven wrong in what you said to me earlier," he replied to her. "And you Mister Benson, you will still have your heart's desire." Sam just looked over at Freddie, who blushed slightly at this comment. Sam rolled her eyes.
"All right…if going in there with Freddork will get me some ham, then let's do it." And she marched into the closet, dragging Freddie behind her as she did so. Before the door was closed behind them, Sam clicked on a light that was in there with them.
"That girl would do just about anything for meat products," Carly commented. The old man nodded.
"I know," he replied with a grin. Carly's phone began to go off; she checked the caller ID, only to reveal it was Spencer. She picked up her phone, answering the call.
"Hey Spence! What's up? …Wait, slow down! …Why is the apartment covered in processed cheese? …Well, how much cheese are we talking exactly? …Oh my god, Spencer! Why on earth would you do that? I'll be right there!" She hung up the phone. "Sorry…my brother's latest sculpture exploded and now there's processed cheese all over the apartment. Sir, are Sam and Freddie going to be ok while I go help my brother?"
"Yes, Miss Shay. Go help your brother clean up the mess," he replied with a grin. "I'll make sure Miss Puckett and Mister Benson don't kill one another. Believe me…I know how that can be sometimes." She smiles and then leaves the building. The old man merely watched as Carly walked out of his office and as soon as she was gone, he quickly turned to his assistant.
"Mister Underhill, give me a status report!"
"Cleaning crew has been contacted and is en route, Boss." They began to walk through the side door that Freddie was taken into. Staff members quickly began to dart back and forth between rooms, carrying personal things in boxes. "Video communications with one of your field agents has been established."
"Good, good…" he replied to his assistant. They walked into a large room, with a large, white board, known as a smart board. Mister Underhill handed the old man a remote, and the old man pressed a button. On the screen came the image of Spencer! "Spencer, my boy. Your sister just left here not a moment ago. Are you and your team going to be ready for her?"
"Well…we've encountered a problem, Sir," Spencer replied. The old man frowned.
"A problem? I don't like problems, Spencer…" he began with a shake of his head. "What's the problem?"
"…We lost the cheese you sent us." The old man slapped his forehead with his hand.
"How….how do you lose that much cheese? I gave you enough to coat an elephant…twice!" Spencer just looked away.
"Umm…well…we were hungry…so…" the old man sighed and shook his head.
"Let me guess…you made grilled cheese sandwiches, didn't you?"
"…Grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, actually. Boy, is Sam going to be mad," he muttered with a chuckle. The old man rubbed his forehead and sighed.
"All right…here's what's going to happen. Miller, Polonski! You two are going to go to a market and grab about five or six bricks of that processed cheese! Roebuck! You and Andrews are going to go and pick up some hair driers!" The four agents quickly dashed out of the room, while Spencer just arched an eyebrow.
"Hair driers, Sir? I…don't understand…" he asked.
"Spencer, we don't have the luxury of time to melt all that cheese on the stove! And If we were to melt it in the microwave, there's the possibility that it would get all…burnt. No, we're going to make it look like you already managed to clean up a majority of the stuff in your apartment. But…because of that, you're going to have to take one for the team."
"What do you mean, Sir?" Spencer asked him.
"I mean, you're going to have a majority of the cheese be put on you!" Spencer looked a bit worried. "Look…it's the only way we can make it work! And I've come too far to not have this plan go off flawlessly! We don't have that much time!" After a moment or two, Spencer nodded.
"Right…gotcha. I don't like this, though," Spencer replied.
"Noted, Spencer. But, it must be done! They're going to plaster your clothes with that cheese…as well as your hair. And remember, the letters must remain hidden until after your sister has left your apartment!" Spencer nodded once more.
"Oh, Sir? Are you going to take care of that problem my sister and her friends are having over here?"
"Ah, yes…I'll be sure to swing by and take care of it, Spencer," the old man replied, and then had the communication line cut.
"Hey Boss? Your cleaning crew has arrived." The old man breathed a sigh of relief. He walked out to what is…or was…his office. There were twelve of them, all wearing dark blue jumpsuits. One, with the nametag of 'Robert' seemed to be in charge.
"Gentlemen, I thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you're good…I did put you all on my payroll, after all, but still…we have probably half an hour at most! We need this place looking like it did when we first got here! And try to keep it quiet! We have two people in that room over there!" he said, pointing to the room that he put Sam and Freddie into. "Miss Shay will be back within the hour, if not sooner! So, start with this room and the main hall first, and work from there. Understood?" They all nodded. "…Good! Get going, gentlemen!" The crew quickly dispersed and began to work. Then, he turned to his assistant. "…Mister Underhill, did you make sure to cut the heat for this building?"
"Um…yeah I did, Boss. But…can I ask why?" The old man grinned.
"All part of the plan, Mister Underhill…all part of the plan. Take the car and drop off Ms. Tribal, will you? Give her the weekend off, as well as my thanks for her part in this. In fact, you as well. Take the weekend off."
"Thanks Boss. But…where are you going?" The old man just smiled as he donned his fedora and put on his trench coat.
"I'm stopping by The Bushwell Plaza…I have…an unscheduled meeting with someone over there," he replied. The old man walked out onto the chilly Seattle streets, hailed a cab and got in. He told the cabbie to take him to The Bushwell Plaza, where he promptly got out, paid the man and walked into the building. Down the hall he roamed until he came to one door. He knocked upon it a moment or two, before finally, the door opened.
"What do you want?" Lewbert yelled. The old man smiled.
"Hello Mister Lewbert…it's a pleasure to meet you. …Well, not really, but you and I need to have a little chat…"
"Who are you and why should I care?" Lewbert shouted. The old man arched an eyebrow at Lewbert.
"Mister Lewbert…let's just say I…have an invested interest in the trio. They…work for me…so to speak, and because of that, they're considered family." His eyes narrowed to slits and he glared at Lewbert. "And I always protect and look after my family." He began to walk closer to Lewbert, his gaze never changing, never flinching. Lewbert began to back up, toppling over onto his couch. "If you so much as look at those young adults funny…I'll purchase this place so fast, you'll be out on the streets before the ink even has a chance to dry!" The old man came walking out of the apartment, donning his fedora once more. "…And if you think I'm kidding….try me…I dare you!" he added with a sincere smile. The old man turned and began to walk down the hallway. Lewbert quickly jumped up from his couch.
"You're…you're crazy!" he shouted, his voice filled with panic. The old man stopped, turned around and smiled.
"Am I now? Well…there's something I haven't been called before…" he chuckled. "Listen, Mister Lewbert, I may be crazy…but when I make a threat…you can count on it being carried through if I'm pushed that far." He doffed his hat to Lewbert. "Good day to you, Mister Lewbert. We will not be seeing each other again…or at least, for your sake, I hope not…" The old man then turned around and began to whistle the Sinatra tune Mr. Success as he walked out. His car was waiting for him as he left The Bushwell. "…Mister Underhill, I thought I told you to go home!"
"Well Boss, you did…but your wife called," he replied. The old man grinned.
"Ah…and I guess she threatened you with bodily harm if you didn't come back with me, and vowed to track me down and drag me back home, only to make every moment that she had to spend doing so torturous?" he asked with a chuckle. His assistant nodded, an the old man just smiled and got into his car. His assistant followed him, closing the door behind him. It began to make its way down the streets of Seattle and headed for home.
"Hey Boss? Before I forget, there's someone named Melanie on the phone for you. She called just before I got here." The old man just stared at his assistant for a moment.
"…Melanie?" he muttered. "Melanie…? …Oh, right! Melanie!" he exclaimed. The old man grinned. "That's what happens when you get old, Mister Underhill. Your mind is the first thing to go."
"Well Boss…when you're well over one-" he began, but was quickly cut off.
"We don't need to go saying how old I am, exactly, do we?" the old man replied, picking up the phone. "Hello, Miss Puckett! How are you? …Yes…it has been all taken care of. I would advise you to watch your sister's web cast tonight. …No, there's no need to thank me, Miss Puckett; I was happy to help. I was just happy you contacted me after your visit to your sister. …Yes, I do agree…they are rather adorable together. Yes…yes….I agree. Well, if you need anything, you know how to contact me. …Yes…good bye, Miss Puckett." The old man hung up the phone and smiled to himself.