Austin Powers: International man of mystery, archenemy of Dr. Evil, and savior of the world three times over, was in the deepest funk a swinger from the sixties could be in. His girlfriend, Felicity Shagwell, discovered that she was lesbian and had left him for a Russian chick. Austin's Shag-pad was in disarray after he tried to drown his sorrows in nonstop sixties vintage swinging. But like all things, that came to an end when people stopped coming. Especially after the SWAT team crashed the party.
Austin sat on his shag sofa, his chin resting on his hand as he surveyed his trashed pad. Cups and liquor bottles littered the carpet, several chairs were overturned and a puddle of dried puke covered a corner.
"Can't believe I've fallen this far," said Austin to no-one in particular," My babe is gay, I've lost my swing, which is even worse that when I lost my mojo, and my pad is wrecked!"
Just then, the Blackberry in his pocket began to ring. The swinger took the device out of his pocket. Basil Exposition popped up on the screen.
"Hello Austin," said Basil. Upon noticing Austin's look of depression, Basil said, "My god, Austin. What happened?"
"Hello, Basil", said Austin half heartedly, "Felicity left me."
"Oh, dear. Who'd she run off with?"
"That Russian babe, Ivonna Humpalot."
"Ouch. She came out of the closet, eh?"
"Well I'm very sorry for your loss. But, I've got a mission for you: A top secret biological weapons laboratory has been raided. Several canisters of unknown contents were stolen. The UN wants you to find these canisters and neutralize the contents."
"How am I supposed to neutralize something if I don't know what it is?"
"That's why you'll be paired with top Splinter Cell…"
Third Echelon, NSA HQ/ Air Force One
"… Sam!" barked Lambert over the wireless communicator to the forty-eight year old secret agent, Sam Fisher who has trying, and failing, to catch some extra sleep on the 747 Air Force One.
"Chill out Lambert," said Fisher from the jet's cargo hold, "What's wrong with a little shut-eye?"
"Need I remind you that you're on a mission?"
"Not really. But you can if you want to."
" (sigh) Alright: first you had to neutralize the Iraqi ambassador…"
"…then hack his laptop…"
"Then disarm a neutron bomb hidden in the 747's cargo hold."
"Which has ten hours left on the timer. A little sleep isn't going to jeopardize the nation."
Lambert, 2,000 miles away in the HQ's lowest levels, rubbed his eyes in exasperation. As Sam got older, it seemed he got more and more irritating. Suddenly the hot line to England rang.
"Hello?" said Lambert
"Is this Third Echelon?" asked the voice on the other end.
"So what if it is?"
"MI6 wants to know."
"MI6? What do you want?"
"We need Sam Fisher's help in a matter of global security."
"He's, uh, a little busy."
"Not any more Lambert," said Sam.
"Fisher! How long were you listening?" asked Lambert, a little miffed that Sam was eavesdropping, but then again, that was his job.
"This bird lands in England in three hours," informed Sam, "I'll meet out 'friends' soon."
Lambert hung up the phone. One thought ran through his mind: What in Grim's name is going on?