RC #9430, Mission #1: Keeping Watch In The Night
Disclaimer: The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia. The novel Les Misérables was written by Victor Hugo, and the musical was written by Alain Boubil, Claude-Michel Schönberg, and Herbert Kretzmer. (Quoted songs are from the 1991 Paris Revival version.) "Keeping Watch In The Night" is by Cosette Valjean.
I own nothing but my own agents (Michel, Rouge, Hamelt, Carol, and Sylveste), two versions of the Brick, four recordings of the musical, and the 10th Anniversary Concert on DVD. To my shame, I also own Gabrielle. I wish I didn't.
Author's Note: This mission takes place on June 6, 2008 HST, after the Mary-Sue Invasion of 2008 and before Mission #7 of Response Centre #24601.
Warning: This mission has turned out a bit more serious than I anticipated. Within, you may find some angst, several references to Catholicism, nineteenth century attitudes toward slash, and deep ideas regarding souls, death, and reality. Also some singing. If any of these are likely to offend you, I recommend that you proceed with caution.
The Mission:
Michel heard the shot, then the old man returned. He announced to the gathered rebels that Michel's father, Inspector First Class Javert, was dead. Michel wished he could scream, or weep, or try to drag the old man down to Hell with his bare hands, but he had to be silent. The rebels did not yet know that he was not one of them, and it would dishonor his father's memory to give up the mission now. He would save his mourning for when his work was done. There were other concerns.
Chief of these concerns was Enjolras, his sister's lover. Gabrielle thought Michel didn't know about her trysts with that disgusting rebel, but she was wrong. He'd watched from a distance as Enjolras had corrupted and seduced Michel's beautiful and innocent sister, and it was time he took his revenge. He removed his pistol from his fob pocket. In all the chaos of battle, who would notice that the bullet who killed their leader had come from within the barricade, and not without?
Before he could shoot, there was a scream, and the fair Gabrielle Javert came running to her beloved. Everyone stopped to look at her. She was wonderfully slim, with curves in all the right places, and her golden hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back. She was wearing a blue and gold dress that showed off her figure but didn't look slutty, and the gold necklace with red stone that Enjolras had given her.
"ENJYYYYY!" she screamed. "Look out! My brother is here and he's going to kill you!!!"
"Merde," said Michel, and bolted. Three of the rebels seized him and threw him on the ground before Enjolras. Michel glared up at the rebel in stony silence.
"Tell them who you are," Gabrielle ordered him, defiantly. Michel redirected his glare at her. The little traitor. He'd believed her to be an innocent, her head turned by Enjolras's incendiary talk, but she was as guilty in this as her lover. It was her fault, as much as it was that of Enjolras or the old man, that their father was dead.
"Gardien de la paix Michel Javert."
"Kill him," said Enjolras.
One of the rebels raised his gun. Michel crossed himself. Lord, forgive me my...
"Hold everything!" It was a young woman, one of the girls who had come to the barricades to see off their loved ones. She had a rifle and was pointing it at Gabrielle, as was the rebel boy next to her. "Nobody move!"
Nobody did move. They were too surprised to do anything.
"Gabrielle Javert," said the boy next to the girl with the gun, "You are charged with using anachronistic nicknames--namely, "Enjy," and variations thereof--repeated comma abuse, repeated accent abuse, repeated verb confusion, misuse of the pronoun "tu," overuse of exclamation points, turning Inspector Javert into an abusive father, causing a character rupture in the characters of Inspector Javert and Enjolras, seriously messing with the timeline of canon events, creating the Mini-Brick "Grandaire," being the uncanonical daughter of Inspector Javert, applying twenty-first century sexual attitudes to the nineteenth century, and being a Mary-Sue. For these crimes you are sentenced to death. Any last words?"
"Enjy, save m--"
BANG.
The young woman looked at Gabrielle's corpse with morbid satisfaction. Michel tried to feel remorse over the death of his sister, but all he felt was some slight regret that he hadn't killed her himself.
The boy who had sentenced Gabrielle offered his hand to help Michel to his feet. "Michel Javert, the only charges we have for you are being the uncanonical son of Inspector Javert and being a Designated Misogynistic Bastard. And one misplaced comma. That's really not enough to kill you over."
"Who are you?" Michel asked.
"We're the Protectors of the Plot Continuum," said the young woman. "We're kind of like police. We find people who are breaking the rules and give them what they deserve."
"You and your sister aren't supposed to exist," the boy added. "Inspector Javert doesn't have any children. So, we have to remove you from the canon."
Michel was fairly certain that his idea of the word "canon" was not what these strange people meant. And what did they mean, his father didn't have any children? The simple fact that Michel existed was evidence to the contrary, and he said so.
"It's kind of complicated," the boy said. "Carol, why don't you handle cleanup and I'll take Michel back to HQ?"
The young woman, Carol, nodded. The boy took a strange device and fiddled with it, and something appeared before him. Michel could find no words to describe it. It was some sort of hole, or door, glowing in the air. "Follow me," the boy told Michel.
Before Michel followed the boy through the mysterious hole, he retrieved his cane from where he had hidden it. He might have need of it.
On the other side of the hole was a room with grey walls. At a desk some distance from Michel and the boy was...a daisy. In a suit. Michel stared. Perhaps the rebels had shot him, and he was dead. He could think of no place on the mortal plane that could hold things as strange as doors in the air and daisies in suits, but it did not fit the description of Heaven or Hell. Perhaps it was Purgatory.
Agent Sylveste. Who is this? asked the daisy. Michel looked at it, and tried to reconcile a talking flower with his view of reality. Failing that, he fainted.
***
"Hello? Michel? You okay?"
Michel opened his eyes. He was lying on the grey floor, and the boy--Agent Sylveste--was leaning over him, speaking in English. Michel looked at him in confusion. "You were speaking French before," Michel said, in the best English he could manage. He hadn't used the language since his school days.
"It's confusing...there's this translation thing that lets us understand the fics we go into, but it doesn't work in HQ...and this is just confusing you more, isn't it? Let's just say that I can't speak French here, and leave it at that. Do you speak English well enough?"
"I will be fine."
"Great. Um, I guess I should have warned you about the Marquis, huh?" Sylveste grinned apologetically. "He's one of the beings in charge here. Yes, he really is a flower. Yes, he really can talk. No, we don't know why exactly."
"Am I dead?" Michel asked. He had to know, one way or the other. The uncertainty was driving him mad.
"What? No. No, you're just in a very weird place. Can you stand up?"
Michel stood up, with some assistance. The daisy was looking at him, if a daisy could be said to look at anything. I am the Marquis de Sod, it said.
The pun was not lost on Michel. He hoped that the name was not a reflection of the daisy's character. "Gardien de la paix Michel Javert." He raised his hand to tip his hat, then realized that he didn't have a hat. "It...is a pleasure to meet you, sir." Not quite sure how to shake the hand of something that had no hands, he bowed instead.
You will report to Response Centre #9430. Your partner is Agent Rouge. Good day.
"Um, I haven't really explained very much yet--" Sylveste cut in. The daisy didn't seem to notice him. "Well, I guess I can fill you in on the way. Come on."