William should really stop snooping. He knew that. But he just couldn’t help himself. The Bronze Sector had always been a curious place for him; the statues of numerous historical villains all around him, bronzed as they had clashed swords with the Warehouse. He hated the idea of being stuck as a statue, thinking but not moving. But he wasn’t a villain, so he was safe. Admittedly, he wasn’t a hero either, but he knew he was useful and that it was unlikely he would ever meet the terrible fate of these villains. He stumbled and crashed into one of the statues, but managed to catch it before he initiated a domino effect.
William spun to see a black woman behind him, slightly smaller. Her hair was braided tightly and she wore one of those smiles that embarrassed parents wear when their children do something wrong. William had an urge to salute. He managed to contain himself.
“Mr. Damarcus…” she started.
She gave him a scolding glare. He shut up.
“William,” she paused, “I am Mrs. Frederic. I am the former Caretaker of Warehouse 13.”
“Oh. I’m William Damarcus, the current Caretaker of Warehouse 13b.”
“Do you think this is a joke?”
“I don’t joke. I died a while ago now but my memory is stored in the Warehouse. It uses me to communicate… complicated messages. I am essentially the Warehouse’s voice.”
“Oh. You’re the Caretaker before CD?”
“Claudia. My cool inventive nickname for her.” He smiled.
“Ah, yes. This is a hologram of me. I have something to tell you, William.”
“The Warehouse knows its fate. I cannot disclose that. But you can’t let the Warehouse burn.”
“Slightly less vague might be nice.”
“Don’t burn the Warehouse, William. Don’t let me burn.”
William cocked his head to the side, “I have no intention of burning the Warehouse.”
“You set the Warehouse alight. You must stop yourself.”
“Er, still a bit on the vague side of things,” William’s phone buzzed and he looked down.
When he looked up, she was gone.