PPC IInterlude 1: A what now?
Interlude 1: A what now?
Disclaimer: I do not own the PPC. It was created by the incomparable Jay and Acacia many, many years ago. Nor do I own this fic. Thank the gods. What I do own is Agent Rose/Ross, for whom Permission was granted on June 22nd, 2009, by Techno-Dann. Thank you.
***
Agent Ross O--- was huddled in his big green chair, a blanket wrapped about his shoulders in a comforting manner, cuddling a stuffed alligator. He was recently returned to his RC from a short stint in FicPsych after a particularly traumatizing fic, and had no intention of letting his sister have control of their shared body any time soon. He needed to cuddle his goddamn alligator, goddamnit!
“Come on, Ross,” murmured Rose, his sister, to whom their body most technically belonged, “please? I’m hungry. Let’s go to the Cafeteria. You can have more Bleepka, I promise…”
With a groan, Ross levered himself out of the chair, and, refraining from dropping either blanket or alligator, or, for that matter, putting his boots back on, wandered aimlessly out of their RC and down the hall.
Due to the nature of HQ, Ross was at the cafeteria within three minutes, enjoying a healthy lunch of Eru-Knew-What, with an extra large glass of Bleepka on the side.
“Why is the Jell-O always lime?” Rose demanded, poking at it. “Couldn’t it be cherry, or… something? Just… Lime? Why?”
Ross shrugged, and took a despondent bite of the jiggly stuff.
Finally finishing his meal, Ross glared at a passing Agent, in a sort of “What are you staring at? It is perfectly normal for a young woman to wander through HQ barefoot in a blanket clutching a stuffed alligator. Really, it is!” way, and wandered out of the Cafeteria.
Slightly vindictively, or perhaps just out of desperation, Rose spent most of the walk back to their Response Center concentrating on how to get there, thereby rendering a walk that should have been twenty minutes at the absolute outside to be somewhere more along the line of an hour and a half.
When, finally, they made it back to their RC, the console was emitting a sporadic beep, and blinking.
Ross snatched a rawhide mallet off of a shelf, ready to commit death on the console, but Rose stopped him with a silent reminder of “We must not shirk the Duty.”
With a quick inner glare at his sister, Ross approached the Console, bracing himself for what was waiting. Going by the rules of narrative comedy, he expected to see a mission into, for example, C*l*br**n, waiting for him.
What he got, however, was the Floating Hyacinth, looking peeved.
Agent Rose? Come to my office, please. And is that the new style among Agents these days? Bedware?
The Console blinked off before Ross could comment, and Rose sighed, closed her eyes, and took off the blanket. Slipping on her boots, she made an abortive attempt to put down the alligator - “Really, Ross, I would think that you would want to look professional in front of the boss lady!” - and settled for running a brush through her hair instead.
In the end it was Ross who finally levered her out of the RC and into the halls, and, with an offhand “Whatever shaves your panda, sis,” reduced Rose to helpless, hysterical laughter that succeeded in getting them to the office of the Hyacinth in record time.
“Ma’am?” asked Rose, stifling her laughter as she entered, realizing that her efforts to tame her hair had been in vain, and that her brother’s little interjection and her subsequent giggles had caused her cowlick to stick up in front again.
Ah. Agent Rose. You are recovered from your little… incident, I trust? The Floating Hyacinth managed to feign concern for long enough for Rose to make it to her tank.
“I did, Ma’am, but Ross is still a little… distraught.” Rose proffered the stuffed alligator as Exhibit A, and waited for her employer to say why Rose had been called in.
I see. Well then. In any case, due to your rather… interesting actions -
“Ross’s actions, Ma’am. He wouldn’t let me out front for that part.”
As I was saying, due to your rather interesting and extreme measures, and due to the dangerous nature of the fics you have been handling lately, it has been decided that you are to be assigned a partner.
Rose blinked at the Flower for a moment, before asking “I get a what now?”
A partner. You know, that thing that most of our agents have? That thing that you had a while back?
“But, Ma’am, I scare off all my partners. And besides. I have a partner. He’s right up here!” Rose pointed to her own head. Unfortunately, she pointed with the hand still holding the alligator, so the effect was rather lost, but…
Yes. About that. Your new partner is rather… new. In fact, she’s brand new. A, how do you say, Newb?
Rose blinked again. “You’re not only giving me a partner, but she’s an absolute newb? Oh gods…”
And I do not want you to scare her off. I want you, in fact, to tone down your rather… interesting condition, if you will.
“In other words, you haven’t told her that her partner’s crazy, and want Rosie to pretend I don’t exist?” accused Ross, glaring a little, before remembering to whom he was speaking, and clamming up.
In not so many words, yes, replied the Hyacinth. She’ll be arriving in a few days. Be nice. Goodbye.
They were dismissed. Rose shook her head, and wandered out, meandering back to their RC, listening to Ross mutter about Roundup in tanks, thinking hard. “Ross?” she asked, at last.
“Yes?” his tone was bitter.
“We were just told to act like you don’t exist. We’re supposed to play Singlit for a cute little Newb who probably won’t last through her first mission. When was the last time we followed orders like that?” Her tone was very careful, and somewhat calculating.
“Third grade. Why?” Ross was still fuming about being treated like a disease.
“Are we about to start now?”
Ross thought about that for a moment, and grinned. “No. No, we’re not. Are you thinking what I’m thinking, sis?”
“We’ve caused three partners to run screaming to FicPsych. Shall we shoot for four?”
“Why, good doctor, I do believe we should. If she runs away, well, all the better, and if she doesn’t… Well we might have a partner worth keeping. It’s doubtful, but we might.” Ross cackled, causing a passing agent to quickly move to the other side of the hallway.
“Well then, Mr. Hyde, let the games begin!” Rose opened the door to her RC, only to be bowled over by a very large, adamant German Shepherd.
“Hello there, Nemo. Are you hungry?” she asked, levering the dog off of herself, only to be confronted by five minis.
“You should feed us, too,” said faithful the Mini-Stormwing, glaring at her. “Or had you forgotten about us?”
“And Middle Earth needs to be sent back to the OFUM,” interjected Cathrak, the latest of the twins’ Mini-Stormwings.
Rose closed her eyes, and smiled. They had a plan, their Minis were being demanding, and her brother was out of his funk. Things were back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as things could get when ones brother lived inside ones own head, and one was being demanded things by a miniature Stormwing…
Disclaimer: I do not own the PPC. It was created by the incomparable Jay and Acacia many, many years ago. Nor do I own this fic. Thank the gods. What I do own is Agent Rose/Ross, for whom Permission was granted on June 22nd, 2009, by Techno-Dann. Thank you.
***
Agent Ross O--- was huddled in his big green chair, a blanket wrapped about his shoulders in a comforting manner, cuddling a stuffed alligator. He was recently returned to his RC from a short stint in FicPsych after a particularly traumatizing fic, and had no intention of letting his sister have control of their shared body any time soon. He needed to cuddle his goddamn alligator, goddamnit!
“Come on, Ross,” murmured Rose, his sister, to whom their body most technically belonged, “please? I’m hungry. Let’s go to the Cafeteria. You can have more Bleepka, I promise…”
With a groan, Ross levered himself out of the chair, and, refraining from dropping either blanket or alligator, or, for that matter, putting his boots back on, wandered aimlessly out of their RC and down the hall.
Due to the nature of HQ, Ross was at the cafeteria within three minutes, enjoying a healthy lunch of Eru-Knew-What, with an extra large glass of Bleepka on the side.
“Why is the Jell-O always lime?” Rose demanded, poking at it. “Couldn’t it be cherry, or… something? Just… Lime? Why?”
Ross shrugged, and took a despondent bite of the jiggly stuff.
Finally finishing his meal, Ross glared at a passing Agent, in a sort of “What are you staring at? It is perfectly normal for a young woman to wander through HQ barefoot in a blanket clutching a stuffed alligator. Really, it is!” way, and wandered out of the Cafeteria.
Slightly vindictively, or perhaps just out of desperation, Rose spent most of the walk back to their Response Center concentrating on how to get there, thereby rendering a walk that should have been twenty minutes at the absolute outside to be somewhere more along the line of an hour and a half.
When, finally, they made it back to their RC, the console was emitting a sporadic beep, and blinking.
Ross snatched a rawhide mallet off of a shelf, ready to commit death on the console, but Rose stopped him with a silent reminder of “We must not shirk the Duty.”
With a quick inner glare at his sister, Ross approached the Console, bracing himself for what was waiting. Going by the rules of narrative comedy, he expected to see a mission into, for example, C*l*br**n, waiting for him.
What he got, however, was the Floating Hyacinth, looking peeved.
Agent Rose? Come to my office, please. And is that the new style among Agents these days? Bedware?
The Console blinked off before Ross could comment, and Rose sighed, closed her eyes, and took off the blanket. Slipping on her boots, she made an abortive attempt to put down the alligator - “Really, Ross, I would think that you would want to look professional in front of the boss lady!” - and settled for running a brush through her hair instead.
In the end it was Ross who finally levered her out of the RC and into the halls, and, with an offhand “Whatever shaves your panda, sis,” reduced Rose to helpless, hysterical laughter that succeeded in getting them to the office of the Hyacinth in record time.
“Ma’am?” asked Rose, stifling her laughter as she entered, realizing that her efforts to tame her hair had been in vain, and that her brother’s little interjection and her subsequent giggles had caused her cowlick to stick up in front again.
Ah. Agent Rose. You are recovered from your little… incident, I trust? The Floating Hyacinth managed to feign concern for long enough for Rose to make it to her tank.
“I did, Ma’am, but Ross is still a little… distraught.” Rose proffered the stuffed alligator as Exhibit A, and waited for her employer to say why Rose had been called in.
I see. Well then. In any case, due to your rather… interesting actions -
“Ross’s actions, Ma’am. He wouldn’t let me out front for that part.”
As I was saying, due to your rather interesting and extreme measures, and due to the dangerous nature of the fics you have been handling lately, it has been decided that you are to be assigned a partner.
Rose blinked at the Flower for a moment, before asking “I get a what now?”
A partner. You know, that thing that most of our agents have? That thing that you had a while back?
“But, Ma’am, I scare off all my partners. And besides. I have a partner. He’s right up here!” Rose pointed to her own head. Unfortunately, she pointed with the hand still holding the alligator, so the effect was rather lost, but…
Yes. About that. Your new partner is rather… new. In fact, she’s brand new. A, how do you say, Newb?
Rose blinked again. “You’re not only giving me a partner, but she’s an absolute newb? Oh gods…”
And I do not want you to scare her off. I want you, in fact, to tone down your rather… interesting condition, if you will.
“In other words, you haven’t told her that her partner’s crazy, and want Rosie to pretend I don’t exist?” accused Ross, glaring a little, before remembering to whom he was speaking, and clamming up.
In not so many words, yes, replied the Hyacinth. She’ll be arriving in a few days. Be nice. Goodbye.
They were dismissed. Rose shook her head, and wandered out, meandering back to their RC, listening to Ross mutter about Roundup in tanks, thinking hard. “Ross?” she asked, at last.
“Yes?” his tone was bitter.
“We were just told to act like you don’t exist. We’re supposed to play Singlit for a cute little Newb who probably won’t last through her first mission. When was the last time we followed orders like that?” Her tone was very careful, and somewhat calculating.
“Third grade. Why?” Ross was still fuming about being treated like a disease.
“Are we about to start now?”
Ross thought about that for a moment, and grinned. “No. No, we’re not. Are you thinking what I’m thinking, sis?”
“We’ve caused three partners to run screaming to FicPsych. Shall we shoot for four?”
“Why, good doctor, I do believe we should. If she runs away, well, all the better, and if she doesn’t… Well we might have a partner worth keeping. It’s doubtful, but we might.” Ross cackled, causing a passing agent to quickly move to the other side of the hallway.
“Well then, Mr. Hyde, let the games begin!” Rose opened the door to her RC, only to be bowled over by a very large, adamant German Shepherd.
“Hello there, Nemo. Are you hungry?” she asked, levering the dog off of herself, only to be confronted by five minis.
“You should feed us, too,” said faithful the Mini-Stormwing, glaring at her. “Or had you forgotten about us?”
“And Middle Earth needs to be sent back to the OFUM,” interjected Cathrak, the latest of the twins’ Mini-Stormwings.
Rose closed her eyes, and smiled. They had a plan, their Minis were being demanding, and her brother was out of his funk. Things were back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as things could get when ones brother lived inside ones own head, and one was being demanded things by a miniature Stormwing…