William Damarcus stepped into Warehouse 13b and hung his jacket on the hook. Walking down the aisle, he glanced from side to side, nervous. His doppelganger could be anywhere. He reached the bottom of the church and pushed open the door into the main area of the Warehouse. The office was cluttered, naturally, and the doorway down into the Warehouse was blocked. He huffed and shoved the box aside, instantly afterwards wondering why he didn’t just teleport to the other side. He shrugged and walked through, finding himself in a glass tube which snaked the entire length of the Warehouse, with open sections allowing the agents to travel via zipline to any given point. He was scared of heights and could teleport, so he didn’t really need them, but had allowed Claudia to put them in due to her unrelenting insistence. He smiled and disappeared down to the Eldunari of Warehouse 13b, where he would disconnect himself. Afterwards, it would be desperate for a Caretaker, so would prise its way into Claudia’s mind. They had forty-eight hours until her mind collapsed and both Warehouses started firing out excessive lightning. Forty-eight hours was enough time. Twenty-four was. He opened the door to the Eldunari and stepped inside. The symbols were moving happily, glowing red. He wasn’t sure why red, but wasn’t complaining, red was his favourite colour. Placing the ribbon on his wrist he closed his eyes, waiting for the energy to leave him. When he opened them the symbols had gone. His Warehouse was essentially dead. He had no power.
He sighed and turned, coming face to face with his doppelganger. In surprise he shrieked, actually shrieked, and teleported away to the office of Warehouse 13. The other William followed, the grin never once leaving his face. Claudia dashed into the room and William passed her the ribbon. She ran through the door to the balcony and disappeared.
“You thought I wouldn’t hear? I was wearing John A. Whatthecallit’s sunglasses.”
“Macready’s.” William disappeared again, finding himself in a random aisle. Above him he saw Claudia pass over on the zipline, her Caretaker dress suddenly gone, replaced with her more ‘punk rock’ clothes. The other William appeared and delivered a punch square into William’s jaw, sending him sprawling. A sudden bolt of electricity flew down the aisle. William, laid on the floor, was safe, but his counterpart didn’t notice it until it was too late and the charge ripped through him, making him cry out as he was electrocuted. William thanked the Warehouse and stood up, disappearing again. He appeared back on the balcony and, from that vantage point, he could see his doppelganger get struck again by another ball of electricity.
“Clearly the artefacts are feisty today,” He muttered. He picked up his phone and called Claudia.
“Right.” He said.
“We’re at the Dark Vault.”
“Why the Dark Vault?”
“’Cause it’s dark.” She hung up.
He sighed and disappeared, reappearing inside the Dark Vault. The room had a blue glow emanating from the pedestals. The strongest, most dangerous artefacts had a blue sphere of influence; anyone stepping into this sphere would be affected by the artefact. William saw Pete glancing nervously at Sylvia Plath’s Typewriter. Claudia was smirking.
“Ok,” William turned to the team, “Why here?”
Artie strode forward, “The plan, such as it is, is to trap your double in the sphere of influence of that,” He pointed towards Sylvia Plath’s Typewriter, Pete nervously shuffled further away, “The Typewriter makes anyone in that sphere lose the will to live. It also drains their life force,” pause, “not sure how that’d work on an immortal but that’s not important. He will lose the will to live and will not teleport away and that is how we will bring our plan into being. We will do what needs to be done, he will exist no more and yay!” He threw his arms in the air sarcastically.
“Ok, let’s do this.” William held out his hand. When nobody joined in he pulled it back and checked his watch, “Where is he?”
“Here.” The Doppelganger stood in the doorway.
“Oh my god that was so Hollywood!” Claudia spun and a kick connected with William’s Double’s jaw, sending him flying. He quickly stood and teleported over to where William was. He punched him in the face and grabbed the Ribbon from him. Groggily, William stood, “I told you to keep hold of that thing!” He yelled at Claudia.
Bad William smirked and turned to the team, who were in a fighting stance yet showed no signs of attacking.
“You’re a coward if you run away!” William yelled, through a bloody, busted mouth.
“Oh I’m coming back, I just need to connect up to Warehouse 13b. After that I’ll be,” He turned to Claudia, “How’d you put it, babe? ‘Unstoppable’?”
Claudia hurled a volley of abuse at him and he disappeared.
“That was a risk,” Pete said, “We couldn’t guarantee him coming back.”
“He’s power hungry and wants to kill us all. Now he thinks he’s unstoppable. Also, I insulted him with the one thing I can’t stand. I knew he’d be coming back.”
“Should’ve called him chicken,” Claudia joked, “That it’d match with the Delorean.”
“Heads up,” Myka yelled, “He’s back.”
Sure enough, the double strode into the room. A glow shone from him now, like a man who knows he had it won.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
He produced a sword, the Honjo Masamune, the sharpest sword ever made, and swung it at Claudia. She dodged and flipped herself under him, allowing William to punch him in the stomach.
Artie was rooting in his back and he produced a sword hilt, reflecting the light from one of the pedestals into the Doppelganger’s eye.
He froze, “What… is that?”
Artie smiled, “Alfred Dreyfus’ sword hilt. Once light reflected in the hilt meets someone’s eye, the next time that person lies their lungs fill with seawater and they die.”
The double laughed, “I can’t die!” No sooner were the words said then water spewed from his mouth and his eyes widened with shock, the realisation that what he’d said was a lie and the fact that he was drowning too much for him.
“Perfect!” Claudia ran and spun her foot into his back, sending him flying into the Sphere of Influence of the Typewriter. He was crouched and his face suddenly looked drained as the Typewriter began to suck the life out of him.
“Neither one of those can kill him,” Claudia reminded, “But they all should hold him down while we do what needs to be done.”
“Have you covered all bases?” William asked.
She nodded and they all linked hands, Artie putting down the hilt, and disappeared.