Shockwaves: A Suite Life/Waverly Place Crossover

Part 3:

A short enough while later…

There was a knock on the Timeless Sand's double doors. Jerry opened them, hoping to see Alex on the other side. He was wrong. It was T.J. Taylor with a full box of sandwich supplies. He asked nervously, "is this the Timeless Sand?"

Jerry asked suspiciously, "what are you up to?"

Justin called out, "don't worry, dad! He was sent by his parents under close observation."

Jerry decided, "then we'll do the same. Welcome to the Timeless Sand." T.J. walked in and sat down without a word. He laid down the open crate full of smaller boxes of bread and other various sandwich ingredients on one of the tables, where the remaining family gathered around equally as uniform as their current collective cautiousness.

Theresa wondered, "you sure he can be trusted?"

Justin assured her, "they weren't as unnaturally carefree as they were the first time we met in person." Theresa nodded with relief.

T.J. chuckled bitter sweetly. He muttered in deep rage, "after what they did to me?(!) No. I can't think of anything worse than this torture."

Theresa wondered concerned, "what happened?"

T.J. slowly got up as Max and Theresa started restoring inventory. He cried out to their shock, "I'll show you torture!" Strangely though, nothing happened. Everyone else stared at T.J. as he sat down.

Justin realized with partial inner amusement, "they took his powers away."

Max asked confused, "wizards can do that to each other?"

T.J. went on darkly, "you really don't want to know the spell for that...very advanced stuff. But yeah, my parents suppressed my powers back to square one…and Wiz Tech themselves didn't let me in."

Theresa figured, "so you're back to being restricted to a wand?"

T.J. assumed, "that's one way of putting it. They even started making food by hand instead of by magic to make sure I didn't enchant it without their noticing."

Jerry suggested with self assurance, "maybe we should compare recipes to the Taylors'."

Theresa replied, "good idea."

Justin wondered in disbelief, "they're still not giving you detention?"

T.J. remarked coldly, "detention would be solitary confinement. The therapy they're sending me to at Tribeca Prep is much longer and more humiliating."

Jerry pointed out in understanding, "I know it can be scary, but your parents are just doing what's best for you."

T.J. sighed. He figured solemnly, "maybe you're right. After all those magic stunts and being isolated at school, I got carried away with the power…and now I'm lonelier than ever."

Max wondered, "why is a thinner bread box labeled with our first names?" T.J. started to leave. He turned around when they started staring at him.

T.J. revealed taken off guard, "I didn't make them. My parents made your favorite sandwiches as a thank you for all you did for them." He left without another sound, except for the door slamming shut behind him.

Within a movie studio on Long Island, New York…

The walls were painted with abstract patterns of yellow, blue, white, and pink. This greatly contrasted with a locked filing cabinet styled drawer built into the walls…all in stacked rows in arm's reach. What was more suspicious was that each compartment had a name label with just an initial for a last name and cloaked in camouflage to hide them in plain sight. Even the handles were hidden by only being a few inches outward. The usual movie equipment were in the exact places you'd expect to find in a cinema company building…along with casts of course. They were more nervous than most crews though…as if every breath could be their last if they weren't good enough.

The movie sign styled sign mounted right above the entrance stated in bold the company name SworthCine. On what seemed to be a production set of an old fashioned French palace throne room was really a familiar trio's office…one on each throne. Each throne had a purposeful hollowed out set of arms. An organizer and pager were each in one of these holes…as if one slip of a word might slip them out of the public eye. Gertrude Hollingsworth checked with devious glee, "is it true? Is Alex really missing in action?" The other two freakishly looked almost exactly like her…except for different clothes and perfume so they could tell the other apart.

One of the Wannabes answered, "yes, miss Sworth."

The other Gertrude/Gigi lookalike pointed out, "with a doctor's note to her television company."

The original Gigi giggled childishly at this piece of news. She declared through a creepy text message among themselves, "then she won't be the only one out cold. Gigi 2, review and restart operation Black Sphere A.S.A.P. Gigi 3, operation Scarlet Pass is a go." Gigi 2 got up and snuck her way to the concealed cabinets full of blackmail. Gigi 3 stayed on her throne, browsing for online IM contacts to get more potential blackmail through online celebrity gossip. The movie crew's names on their cell phones…and even some Tribeca Prep teachers' names strangely matched some of those hidden compartments' labels.

At a salvage yard in Ohio…

A green wooden fence surrounded the perimeter. Unlike most junkyards though, this one seemed to attract a much bigger crowd of customers in the most unorthodox manner. Despite so much junk coming and going, there was much more piles of usable machinery verses broken parts. A bunch of young and fit people were doing metal work to reassemble broken parts…even the ones seemingly beyond help. A secondary bunch was drawing up simple blueprints for the builders and operating the working machines that brought the broken ones in, which of course consisted of the smarter majority of the staff. Hence, every piece, originally with or without hope, was being sold to whatever company or individual paid for service.

Sometimes, there were even custom orders where these people would transform whatever extra scraps were available into refrigerators, crowbars, cars, or anything else made mostly of metal components. Naturally, everyone smelled…but now all the above can spend well enough to ward it off whenever they went elsewhere. In fact, some of the other junkyards went as far as attempting to buy out this place just so they can stay in business…until one of the owner's many siblings/workers, adopted or otherwise, got the idea to buy them out instead as subsidiaries of their salvaging company. Unfortunately, some of the other salvaging yards started getting the same ideas.

However, this certain junkyard with a sign made of spare reshaped metal bolted to a metal stand between a small collection of entryways and exits that said clearly Metal and Fink is where it all started…with one idea of inspiration from a near dry well of intellect. The owner lived in a small house that was entirely made of metal and machinery…right outside of Metal and Fink. A familiar and yet abnormal face…that is even for him…was finishing a late lunch in a tub. His hair was slightly straighter to the point of flatter curls. He had contact lenses instead of glasses that matched his eyes. Even his digits were clear of excess grease and grime.

One of his accountant/assistant parents called from downstairs, "Woody!"

Woody Fink responded out loud, "what is it?" He got out of the tub and headed directly downstairs for the ground floor.

His other parent deduced, "there's a order from famous activist Miss Fitzpatrick for inner water treatment components between official water treatment plants and sewers…while at the same time connecting personal human related water resources within living space with the same technology."

Woody checked nervously, "what are components?"

His parents sighed. One of them suggested in irritation and annoyance, "we're going to get you a dictionary."

The other added, "just think of it as a transportation system for migrating dwarf aliens." Woody nodded in his twisted understanding.

Woody figured, "so I guess I go around and tell the planning crew like I usually do?"

The first parent responded, "of course." Woody nodded and left the small metal house.

The second parent remarked, "maybe we should turn his homework assignments into science fiction form to improve his average."

On Lake Erie, Turtle Island…

As usual, it looked abandoned. Turtle Island was mostly remote and inhabited for pretty much its short history as a residence. The island's last owner tried at rock bottom in more ways than one to make it a vacation area. Ever since, solely neighboring governments from the only bordering states of Ohio and Michigan were the only trace of memory that it existed. Near extinct and decaying wrecks of homes were piled altogether in a shapeless mass of rubble and rust. A near topless lighthouse solitarily stood over the isolated crash site, overlooking the intact half of a semi-tall concrete borderline. An abrupt sound of a scuba diver resurfacing broke the still silence. The figure swam to the island and pulled himself/herself onto shore. He/she took off his/her breathing mask to sigh with relief in the fresh air. The figure muttered, "I made it."

He/she carried the mask while walking to the remains of the lighthouse. The mysterious individual climbed up the slippery steps and washed out cobwebs with slight difficulty…until reaching the hollowed out lantern. Only a set of metal spikes remained. This human soaked in shadow cautiously pushed the spike furthest away. It fell down onto the side on a concealed hinge. A deep secret arose as he/she delicately rotated the closest spike clockwise in a 90 degree turn. More specifically, an escape pod styled elevator came out from under the risen spikes. The conspicuous person hung the scuba mask over the unfolded spiked handle. The mask suddenly lit up in infrared, scanning the agent's eyes. The elevator opened in close to automatic response. The satisfied traveler picked the mask back up as he/she entered the pod.

It quickly shut behind him/her and started lowering back to its base. The spikes reset themselves in the cloudy sky as if nothing happened. The agent unzipped the scuba suit. A small compartment slid open next to him/her. The miscellaneous being hurled the scuba gear into the cushioned panel, which closed at an instant. A black suit clung to her body when she came out of the elevator. Her cloaked face searched the dark underground room for light. She pressed on one of the leather sleeves. The entire suit had sewn on hard pasta bathed in dark paint and glowing light. Tree light sized bulbs were tucked in each of the countless pasta pieces, lighting a very familiar person's clothing up in a shelled aura resembling a dwarf star.

No hairband was on her usually long hair. Street clothes covered her from chest to toe…all dark colors with a weird mixed layer of hard pasta. Even her hair was dyed with a light shade of darkness. Her often cheery expression was more serious and without a fraction of a frown or smile. She found the door to the main corridor. The figure pressed her hand on the small window fogged with a cloud of seemingly endless blackness. A pocket sized X ray engulfed the glass, checking the whole hand inside and out.

An unnatural voice responded, "welcome back, Harper Finkle." The door swung open in automation. Harper made her way down the corridor…full of more creepy and intimidating agents with practically the same makeover. Even the double layered clothing and personal lighting system was the same. Harper walked on to one of a dozen or more office entrances. Of course, she knew by now that these small quarters are scattered under many other uninhabited isles...with much more operatives as a unit. This one said in bold the dark red words FBI Executive Assistant Director, but had no handle. The initials M.H. were directly above this heading. Harper pressed the dotted I in assistant. The shady door directly retracted into the left wall. A loudspeaker was bolted above the used to be door.

The now more human and familiar voice of the executive said coolly, "come in." Harper went into the cloak of dimness that enveloped the room. The entrance slid back into place as it has done many times before. Rock songs fused with opera music played in the background from 2 dark brown speaker boxes directly wired to 2 differently colored computers. With both genres on continual play, even though it was turned down to the point of barely being noticeable, sent a chill down Harper's spine. This was despite being used to it…usually no one could fully be. The young executive with a vertically positioned desk and computer near each side had even used this custom music system to interrogate suspected criminals while acting as if she were having a casual conversation with a close friend.

Her chair was able to rotate on its wheels to either computer. It could even transform into a thin escape pod to pilot herself out of any explosion her headquarters endures. One computer was used for government reasons(intelligence agency contacts and info on them, official government officials and files on them, records of illegal activity, records of suspected yet unofficial criminals, etc.) with the FBI logo on it while the other was used for more private reasons(tutor contacts and info, personal training records, blueprints of future and past invented spy gadgets, spy missions and other agent records, agent contacts and appointment schedules(including dates), what to spend her salary on, etc.) with a violet heart symbol on it. The computer playing opera was the government computer, so the other was playing rock music.

All of the information from the computers was really on floppy disks. She knew that they're now nearly extinct, so she didn't suspect anyone to steal them if she didn't even tell a deeply trusted agent like Harper about that secret. A decoy disc was in each computer. If someone stole the discs, they'd be traced back to their hideout with tracking devices hidden in the center covering and busted before they knew what happened. However, for someone exceptionally clever for an agent, the executive was at heart truly good natured and quite cheerful. It was her love of government and natural distrust of media corporations that sometimes deeply challenged that view.

Across the walls were international peace signs of various dark colors, famous rock band photos, pictures of front pages of classic and dark plays of the past, and depictions of famous governmental landmarks. A random set of dim night lights were wired directly on the walls, filling the unusual office with an eerie glow. Other than the setting of the room and her nerve chilling occupation, she seemed her usual self…minus the black street clothes with sewn hollow pasta, moderately bulkier muscles, and slimmer build. On top of each computer was part of her full name on a small stand. Together, they spelled Miranda Hampson. Miranda suggested in good spirit, "please sit down." Harper slightly smiled as she sat down on what seemed to be a couch for visitors across from the arrangement of desks.

She took out from the back of her suit a folder labeled Code Violet: For Executive and Mission Agent's Eyes Only and started organizing the research papers soon after unsealing it. Miranda asked with a smile, "how's Assignment Wave going?" The room's walls hid soundproof walls and motion detectors. If someone was breaking in through the walls or door, Miranda would be the first to know.

Harper explained confidently, "I think we got a lead."

Miranda eagerly insisted, "go on."

Harper went into further detail, "according to my observations, a family we long suspected to be responsible for supernatural actions has vanished from Waverly Place…and I alerted double agents to this perfect excuse to bring them to us for testing and questioning."

Miranda realized with a chuckle, "the Russos and the Monster Hunters?"

Harper answered, "exactly. Now we'll finally be able to teach wizards how to live peacefully with the rest of humanity…and prove your longtime ignored theory of magic influencing events we didn't find out about until too late."

Miranda happily responded, "and achieve the full recognition I deserve. I'm just curious about something. Do you even know where they went?"

Harper got up and passed an unusual blueprint to Miranda wrapped around a familiar object. She revealed, "no…but I have the means right here."

Miranda summarized approvingly, "you uncovered the disregarded lock picker from the library…with Alex's fingerprints and hair traces before the authorities found it."

Harper concluded, "the FBI has used brainwave technology to restore our memories in this realm, so there's no reason why we can't do that with the Russos."

Miranda opened a printer sized scanner on one of her desks and carefully slid the lock picker device onto it. She realized in deeper understanding, "to find out which set of memories is the correct one. This is a good plan, Harper. But, we can't risk further exposure to the alternate Russos…with recollection of the other reality or not…until we know which contradicting instinct is right for sure."

Harper checked in near disbelief, "so we're just going to wait for the events to unfold?(!)"

Miranda chuckled as the scanner started getting results. She pointed out, "these aren't fantasy monsters like you help the Monster Hunters protect humanity against. No…the Monster Hunters can handle them from here."

Harper recalled, "it was quite ingenious transforming believed celebrity male thieves with the technology of science into the cyborg Monster Hunters of today in exchange for eliminating 3 problems for the price of one card to play, wasn't it?"

Miranda replied with nodding assurance and joy, "now is the time for celebration. We could take out the projector and classic movies like old times if you want." Harper placed the files back into the folder and the folder back in its hiding place.

Harper assured her, "that'd be great." Miranda's computer got the match of lookalike Alerni Rustin…currently at the Aim Hotel.

She assured her, "just let me direct the Monster Hunters to their destination and we'll be good to go." Harper was back on the sofa, smiling in bitter sweet acknowledgment.

At the Aim…

Alerni Rustin/Alex was back in her room. Regardless of the apparent lack of tears and visiting her TV company Harplex to call off Sworthcine's indirect attack, she was still deeply troubled. Alex recalled saying to herself, "I already made a huge mistake…I'm not going to let another happen because of me." Alex had also conjured up a jacuzzi in her guest quarters' closet to try to calm down with water jets and a shorts styled bathing suit. She sighed in mixed disappointment. Alex revealed, "I miss Waverly Place. If only I could forget the whole thing…" She stopped the water. Alex commented in amazement, "but my skin feels so soft." She took out her wand and spell rhymed on impulse, "Dropius Erasius". The water vanished from Alex's body as if it didn't even exist. She chuckled. Alex figured, "I'm starting to get the hang of this."

Soon after, she set everything else back to normal…in her room. Alex lied down on the bed face up, still stressed out. She wondered bitterly, "what was that spell for memory wipe? Oh yeah…I forgot. Dang it!" Alex heard footsteps outside of her room. She sat back up and hid her wand in her pockets nervously.

A familiar voice inquired, "can I come in?"

Alex with slight relief responded coldly, "it's unlocked."

Maddie entered the room. The door was closed again. She sat down next to her on the same bed. Maddie asked concerned, "are you ok?"

Alex looked at her as though she was crazy. She lied with a mocking manner, "you can go back to your check out counter…I'm fine."

Maddie realized, ignoring the rude comment, "I think you're in denial."

Alex was taken off guard by this. She wondered in shock, "how did you…?(!)"

Maddie chuckled warmly. She remarked, "when you've been around with troublemakers like I have, you can tell better than a smoke detector."

Alex retorted in disbelief, "oh, come on! I bet Mr. Aim himself got in his position for skipping grades right out of school."

Maddie revealed as if it was normal, "actually, I found out from his brother Cody that he was bribed by a girl to take Zack's test for him in the exact same looks." Alex stared in shock.

She checked with a chuckle, "you sure it's the same Zack?"

Maddie recalled in deep awe, "more than you know. Do you know how high a grade those aptitude tests got?"

Alex guessed randomly, "125, 83, 74?"

Maddie deduced, "only one test with an IQ of 250. Cody's an academic genius…to the degree that it extended the IQ range and rocketed Zack all the way to graduation school status."

Alex laughed warmly in response.

Maddie questioned more seriously, "so, what's wrong?"

Alex vaguely answered with a sigh, "let's just say I came from a rambunctious family."

Maddie stared in near disbelief and terror. She assumed, "you were a victim of child abuse?"

Alex manipulatively added, trying to sound solemn, "well, I was stripped of identity." She really meant a time when she lost her powers months ago. Maddie put an arm around Alex in misguided sympathy.

Maddie inquired, "so you blocked out the rest of your past?"

Alex hinted misleadingly, "if a past life on the streets counts."

Maddie asked, "have you gone to some counseling?"

Alex deceitfully answered, "I certainly am thinking about the future."

Maddie replied, "that's good, but…you'll be ok?"

Alex said with assurance and bitter sweetness, "yeah. Even though I've been through some pretty tough times, I still miss them."

Maddie revealed, "I understand. I came from a rough background myself."

Alex decided with a sly smile, "but…I guess I shouldn't let my past keep me from enjoying myself, right?"

Maddie pointed out, "only you can decide that. I'll be downstairs at the Variety Court if you need me." She started to get up.

Alex checked with a startling realization, "is it really evening already?(!)" Maddie turned around in partial amusement. Alex concluded, "now that you mention it, I could go for dinner."

Maddie chuckled in recollection, "sorry Alerni, but I've got a date. Besides, it's probably too late to arrange one for you this late."

Alex suggested mischievously, "unless Zack is available."

Maddie mentioned obviously with a chortle, "oh, he's taken."

Alex offered, "it's all right…I'll just be at a nearby table in case he gives you trouble."

Maddie wondered in curiosity, "and if he does?"

Alex answered secretively, "I'll keep him in line."

Maddie pointed out in good spirit, "you and me both." She left Alex in her room. Alex went downstairs when Maddie was out of sight.

She muttered to herself, "Memorize Extersize? No, that's not it either. Certainty Curtainty? Uh uh. Alerni Dispini? No, wait…I'm mixing my alias with my spell guesses. Oh, it'll come to me."