So, I had another awesome thought. A where's Waldo and Carmen San Diego spy-vs-spy-style crossover. So because I love you all so huggy muggy much (*snrk*) I'll be showing you all exactly what I mean. If you like it, please let me know in the comments here. If you're a dedicated artist, then please let me know if you want to draw for this, we'll make it into a webcomic!
PLEASE NOTE: this is a parody, and not in any way affiliated with Where's Waldo or Where in Time/On Earth is Carmen SanDiego. Just so you know. Legal stuff out of the way? Good. Let's go.
"Fils de salope!" cursed the frenchman. He crushed a cigarette in his hands and stared up at the sky. That woman in crimson was getting away, and in Da Vinci's flying machine no less! The frenchman sat down by Trevi fountain in Rome, resting his face in his hands. That was the third time in a week she'd gotten away from him. He was a french spy, investigating this lovely Russian lass. Yes, Russian. "Carmen" was her code name. "CARMEN" stood for "Careful Aquiring, Ranged Monitor, Espionage, Negation". It was her job. A special sort of spy. The only one of her class. To go against her, the counter-espionage artist was Waldo. That wasn't the frenchman's name, either, but his didn't mean anything especially cool. It was just a simpler name used to blend in.
"Boss. She got away. Again." The frenchman remarked quietly into his glasses. He had 20/20 vision, they were just there for a disguise. Easy ways to look like he was minding his own business, when he was really monitoring Carmen. They weren't really even trying to hide anymore. The Frenchman had such obvious clothes. A red and white striped turtleneck, matching fedora hat band, and matching tie on his suit? He was obvious, but deceptively hard to spot. Carmen was just as easy to find, she wore the same red coat and hat to each of her crimes, and had the most gorgeous long hair he'd ever seen on a woman. And that was saying something.
"Again. She got away AGAIN. WITH Da Vinci's flying machine, I take it? You've failed again, Waldo. But I continue to send you out there. You know why?"
"Because if you didn't, I'd go anyway."
"Right. And -you-, at least, are determined enough not to let a pretty face get in the way of your judgement." The Boss growled in the receptor in Waldo's ear.
Waldo folded his glasses and tucked them into a pocket. He stood up and noticed a slip of paper at the top of the fountain. Carefully climbing it, he barely managed to touch the note, before a gust of wind carried it off.
"Merde!" The Frenchman snapped, looking at the note. It unfolded itself and rested in the water below, mocking Waldo. It was another note from Carmen.
"You'll see my smile back home, dear." It was signed with a kiss and a swirly letter C, to show Carmen was thinking of him.
"I hate you." Waldo muttered to himself, climbing down and picking the letter out of the water as the ink smeared away, leaving behind just the lipstick on the paper.
"Waterproof, no doubt. You love mocking me, Mon minet." He looked at the smeared letters, thinking about the note as he had read it from high above. 'home'. 'smile'. It was too obvious. The louvre was guarded, but not against Carmen. He folded the letter carefully into his red-and-white kerchief, knowing it would likely be stained forever after. But he didn't mind. It was evidence, and it was a memory.
"I'll catch you, pet. And when I do, I'll find out every secret you've stolen." He looked up into the sky, where Carmen had disappeared, to a chopper. It was high time to stop her.
"MIlaya Moyna, Spy. I will see you in France." Carmen purred to herself, opening her cel phone and calling her tech boy back home.
"Hello, Alik. How is my favourite finder of goods and tech boy, Hm~?" She trilled into the phone, reclining back in her chair and looking at the paper-thin wings of the flying machine she had stolen. It was all too easy.
"My legs hurt."
"I know, but I thought you could use a laugh."
"Oh, DorogAya moyA, you are truly adorable sometimes, Alik. Would you pretty pretty please get me a flight to France? I'm going to steal the Mona Lisa on saturday."
"Mona? Really? Why? I always pictured you an Alphonse Mucha fan."
"You know my style so very well, dear. I don't intend to get away. I intend to taunt our favourite spy. Maybe even let him think he caught me. Can you hook me up with some hidden weapons, sweety?"
"Of course, Carmen. Anything for you, Carmen."
"Enough lip, Alik, your sarcasm is going to drip out of the phone and stain my coat." Carmen's mock-pout could be heard even through the speakers.
"Who was being sarcastic? You'll be more loaded with weapons than James Bond. How appropriate, don't you think? Oh. And Carmen, don't get hurt. Please. I still want a chance to learn your real name."
"Hm~ I owe you a kiss when I get back, Alik. With my signature colour, so all the other tech boys will know you're my favourite."
"spasibo, Carmen. Just make sure you don't get into too much trouble. Why are you so nice to the tech boy in a wheelchair, anyways? Especially when you've got guys like Waldo after you."
"Let's just say I've seen far worse. Good evening, Alik." She hung up and rested back in her seat, contemplating. Before CARMEN there was her mother, the real Carmen SanDiego. Before it was an acronym, it was the name of the finest thief in the world.
"Mother." Carmen muttered to herself, thinking of the original thief. She was a spy too, but only barely. Her job was stealing to distract the world from real problems. Until she got tangled up with the wrong people. That just left her daughter. Adopted. To take care of the old job with the same name. She had all the same skills, and all the same friends to help. She transferred seamlessly. People hardly noticed that Carmen had gotten decades younger, and looked distinctly more Russian.
"Wake me when we're in France." She remarked to the henchman driving, before curling up on the reclining seat. No time to dwell on the past now. They had a painting to steal.