Subject: Re: Priorities
Author:
Posted on: 2011-07-27 01:30:00 UTC
"It could have been the work of some nut job with a TF gun."
"So one nut job with one TF gun managed to rampage through the entirety of HQ without being seen? Never mind that TF guns don't get this drastic."
"An... invisible nut job with an invisible TF gun!"
"I'm revoking your talking privileges."
Naomi lugged the heavy saddle bags through the corridor. She blinked and looked around at the room. It looked like a large furnace room. She shivered as she felt the air move. She had no clue where this was, although the large fans covering the wall made it clear some kind of air moval system. She turned to move when a fast blur slammed into her. The bag flew from her hands and into the nearest fan. The fan easily chewed up the bags and its contents. She gulped and looked at her attacker.
(if you are asking why Naomi has it, well, it's from an incident that I'm working on with Labunrum.)
As she turned the corner, she ran slap bang into Agent Luxury.
"Val! Sweetie!" Lux cried, sounding very relieved. "How'd you know I was heading to Medical?"
"I didn't, I'm out here looking for Pompom," said Val. "Careful with the towel!"
"Eh? Why?" Lux promptly grabbed the towel and whipped it off Val's head, revealing that the nurse was now completely bald and suffering from a bright blue rash on her exposed scalp.
"Hey!" Val snatched the towel back and putting it back on. "I'm assuming you're heading to Medical because something randomly weird has happened to you as well?"
"Damn right!" Lux said miserably. "I woke up this morning and ... well, remember Alan Rickman in Dogma?"
Val did. "Ewww! Yeah, I'd say you need to get down to Medical right now - but in the meantime, have you seen Pompom?"
"Who?"
"Uzumaki Pompom. Three-year-old, black hair, big dark eyes, 'bout six inches tall, cat ears? Currently invisible?"
Anyone other than Lux would probably have pointed out that she couldn't have seen him if he was invisible. "No, sorry, I'll keep a lookout."
Hearing the familiar voices of his mothers, he tucked his tiny body into a corner and waited till they were gone. Being a toddler with the natural curiosity and disobedience of a kitten, he wasn't keen to give up his newfound invisibility. He sucked his claws and listened.
"Luna, honey, it's not that bad!" said Cheri comfortingly, patting her girlfriend's ankle.
"Not that bad?! This is horrible! I'm ... I'm ..." Luna babbled, struggling to finish her sentence. "You've turned into a carnivore, and ... and ..."
Pompom peered out at his parents, realising that whatever had affected him must have also affected them. Cheri appeared entirely normal, except for the fact that the tiny rabbit-eared woman, usually a strict vegetarian, was holding a half-eaten chunk of raw meat and pausing occasionally to take another bite from it. Luna had suffered much worse, and was now ...
"A human! I can't believe it, I'm a human! I hate being human!"
"Oh, don't overreact! You're just a little bigger than usual."
"A little?" Luna was now easily two-and-a-half times her normal height, and as she lacked her usual long tail, was having to lean against the wall to walk without falling over.
Cheri sniffed the air. "I think he's this way, c'mon."
(ooc: wherein my new agent meets my boarder persona)
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Portia McSweeney went over some important new facts.
She had a beard.
Great. Just great.
She usually had enough trouble keeping herself all lined up on a normal day. She was in FicPsych once a week to try to tease out memories of where she'd come from before being found in the cafeteria; so far, the only triggers they'd found were the battle scenes from "The Last Samurai" and the better and/or rantier Harry/Hermione shipping fics from the Harry Potter fandom. Add to that the fact that she could barely hold a projectile weapon without blowing her own rear end off and Intelligence was the only place she could fit in at the moment when what she really wanted to do was to blast, slice, impale and generally murder some Mary Sues.
But now she was a wizard. With a pointy hat. And a beard you could hide a chicken in. And a staff.
Perhaps this was the wrath of Rowling upon her: she'd only skimmed the plot of the last two Potter books loosely, she subscribed to fringe conspiracy literature (that purported that Epilogue!Harry had 5 kids by 2 different women)and fanfic was her pretty much her last remaining link to that world.
Then again, perhaps this was the fault of someone within the PPC, in which case she would pry the truth out eventually, preferably slowly and with great pain.
Perhaps... perhaps she should venture out and see what was happening. It couldn't be any worse than in here.
And if anyone laughed... well, maybe the big stick would come in handy.
(My first RP participation in the whole of ever. Exhilarating)
He had no idea what time it was, but he felt well-rested, and the Console wasn’t beeping, and that meant it was time to read. There were only a few chapters left in The Cavalier in White, and Doc was itching to find out who had stolen the titular painting. As he fished around inside his pillowcase for the book, Doc had the weird impression that the walls looked different somehow. The generic surface was a bit…never mind. He opened the book, stuck the bookmark behind his ear and—
Couldn’t read. The pages were all blurry. Doc rubbed his eyes, trying to wake them up. It didn’t help; the letters were still a greyish smear on the page. Confused, Doc squinted, looking around the room.
He saw the lines on the refrigerator door. He read the titles of his books on the shelf. He made out individual buttons on the Console. And for one very brief moment, Doc grinned in excitement. He didn’t need glasses anymore! He could see every—
His grin melted away as he looked back at the novel. He held it away from his face. He retrieved his glasses from their case, hanging from the bed board above his head, and put them on. Nothing he tried changed anything. His glasses were supposed to fix his near-sightedness. And overnight, Doc had turned far-sighted.
Agent Vania was awakened by a shriek from the bunk above her. Having stayed up late the previous night playing video games, she was in no mood to wake up early, especially if it wasn’t for a mission. She got up and peeked over the top bunk.
Doc was swaddled in blankets, huddled against the back of the bed, staring forlornly at a book in the center of his mattress.
[What’s the matter?] Vania asked, immediately aware that something was wrong with her voice.
“The Precious…” A tear slid out of Doc’s eye. “We can’t—wait.” Doc’s Gollum-speak immediately ceased. “What’s with your voice?”
[I’m not…sure.] Whenever Vania spoke, although her mouth hadn’t moved, and she had produced no sound, both she and Doc observed a grey rectangle appear, floating in midair in their respective ranges of vision. The boxes contained her words in white letters. Once she finished her thought, the rectangle would disappear.
[I seem to be speaking in—text box,] Vania decided.
“And my vision is all screwed up,” Doc whined. “I can’t read. What is going on?”
Vania swung her legs out of the bed and stretched. [This is one of many bizarre things that happen in PPC HQ sometimes. You’re just going to have to get used to it.]
“But what do we do now? Are we stuck this way?”
[Well, something is causing this. I imagine we can head out into the corridors, find out what’s doing it, and stop it.]
[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!]
[Or—]
“—not.”
to be continued…
The former Fallout Ghoul sighed. "I am now a talking chicken." He said to no one in particular. Gurgan looked around the empty RaE lab where he had been napping-er, studying dilligently to become a full-fledged member of the PPC, yessirree, no napping here-and took a deep breath. "I did not enter this room as a chicken. I entered it as a ghoul." He let that sink it for a while then came to a realization. "I have never needed a smoke so badly in my 285 years of living."
Gurgan reached for the pack of cigarettes he kept in his boot...only to touch the yellow, scaly legs and claws of his new form. "Where are my boots?" Then it hit him. "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?" Then it hit him again. "WHERE ARE MY $#()$%*)@#$(*$ CIGARETTES?!"
The angry ghoul-turned rooster bolted out of the lab. (Or, bolted as best a chicken could. More of a fast strut, really.) Someone was going to pay!
Pending either her assignment to an Agent pair or her approval to become a full Agent, Intern Ally Malet spent her time in an empty Response Center, reading guidebooks to the PPC, memorising possible charge lists and repeating the Sunflower Official's list of reasons as to why she was never going to be allowed back in her home continuum with pride. Considering her former life as a citizen of District Eight in the Hunger Games-verse, this was a much better life, even if she had nearly nothing to do.
Ally strongly reconsidered this view the moment she looked in the mirror, that morning.
Her eyes were purple. Her skin, normally tanned from years of working out of doors, was soft and white. Her plain features had become beautiful, her strong, muscular arms now resembled that of an eight-year-old's, and her hair, usually very short and carrot-red, had become long and a rather vivid shade of green. In short, she now resembled the two things she despised the most- citizens of the Capitol, and Mary Sues.
Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, she considered her new appearance, before speaking in a low, flat tone.
"Someone is going to die for this."
Unfortunately for her homicidal plans, Ally found that not only could she no longer lift her prized axe, just trying to grasp it made her hands hurt. Cursing, she found her long knife, and after slipping her urple arm band on, she walked into the corridors of PPC HQ, looking for answers.
----
Grace Leon, an intern of DoSAT, was awakened from her light doze at her workstation by a rather loud explosion. Shrugging it off as just another day in DoSAT, she reached for her glasses and knocked them aside, frowning at her apparent clumsiness. After a few tries, she managed to pick her glasses up and put them on. The moment her hand came into view, she froze. Her hands were now huge, her fingers thick and stubby. Her eyes widened in horror and she let out a small shriek, frantically looking around for any spilt potions or malfunctioning machinery that could have caused it. Finding none, she got up and made her way to the exit, holding her hands out in front of her. On the way, she caught a look at herself in a shiny, reflective piece of metal, and let out another scream before running straight out of DoSAT.
----
Fingering the hilt of her knife, Ally was walking down the corridor for what seemed like the fifth time, until a screaming figure ran right into her, knocking her down.
"OW!" she exclaimed crossly, shoving the other figure off her and climbing to her feet. She looked around for her knife and saw it a few metres away. Once she'd grabbed it, she turned back to the person who'd run into her.
"My hair! My hands! My hair! Oh God, *my hair*!" the other woman gabbled.
Ally didn't see what was wrong. The woman, whose urple armband marked her as a fellow intern, had short white hair, nothing out of the ordinary. Her hands did seem grossly oversized, though.
Ally grimaced and tried to be comforting. "Er... calm down?"
"MY HANDS! MY HAIR!"
"What's so bad about your hair?" Ally asked, trying to make sense of it.
"It's just like hers..." the woman gasped.
Ally looked at her quizzically before deciding not to ask. "What's your name?"
"Grace. Grace Leon."
"Well, Grace, let's go see if we can find someone who can help. Maybe Doctor Fitz?"
"Sounds good," Grace nodded, managing to calm down. After a few seconds of walking, she said awkwardly, "I'm sorry I knocked you over."
"Eh, don't worry about it," Ally shrugged.
They kept walking, determined to find answers.
Gurgan ran through the hallway, squawking his rage with every step, when he ran into the other two interns. "#*#*#@$(* @#($*#@-Oh!" He paused, blushing at his langauge. "Erm...Hi. I'm Gurgan, and I have two questions: 1-do you know what the hell is going on? And 2: Do you have any cigarettes?"
Ally tried not to laugh at the language the other intern was using. One of the many reasons she loved the PPC was that her home continuum had little to no instances of swearing, and since joining the PPC, her vocabulary had considerably widened.
"I'm Ally. She's Grace," she said, jerking a finger at Grace, who now looked nervous, but not hysterical. "And no, we were just looking for someone who could tell us what was going on. But I do have a cigarette here..." She pulled a couple out of a pocket and offered them to the other interns. Grace shook her head.
"Thanks, smoothskin. You're a lifesaver." Gurgan took a deep drag before speaking again. "Aaahhh...that tastes good. I tell you, I needed this."
He nodded to the pair. "So, you mind if I tag along? I'm looking for the F***ers that did this to me and I wanna have 'words' with them."
Ally exhaled the smoke and nodded. "Fine by me. When I find who did this, I'm going to introduce them to my axe."
Grace nodded. "Once I get my hands back, I'll see what I can whip up to use on them."
"And when I find them, I'm thumping their skulls." Came a feminine, annoyed voice from outside the huddle.
Gurgan, Ally and Grace turned to look at this interloper. "Well THERE'S something you don't see every day: a bearded lady." Ally said with genuine curiosity in her voice before she took another drag.
"You don't see many Mary Sues smoking either, but that's neither here or there." Portia answered, too annoyed to answer any other way. "What I want to know is how I got this dust-trap on my chin and how to get rid of it." She thought for a minute. "Does anyone have a razor or something that can take this thing off?"
Ally looked at the other two: one was a giant chicken and the other's hands were... well, not well suited. But the newcomer had called her... well, the time for petty bickering definitely wasn't now. Sighing, she took out her knife and handed it to the (long term) Intelligence intern. "I expect it back, though."
"Oh, you're getting it back. In fact, How about I join up with you guys: solve this thing, get back to normal, crack some skulls?" Portia took the knife by the handle, tugged the end of the beard so that the hair was taut and began to slice though a rough handful of strands at a time.
"Sounds good," Ally replied. *And then I'll gut you for that Mary Sue crack*, she thought.
Grace looked from one of the others to the next. "This is officially the worst day of my life."
"Christ, it's just hair, woman," Ally replied.
"JUST HAIR? It's HER hair!" Grace screamed back.
"Look, can we have the angst, whining and hysterical screaming later, and go find the ...er who'll be bleeding for this?"
Ally blinked after the last sentence emerged from her mouth. "Did I just get censored mid-sentence?"
"Apparently," Grace replied.
"Oh no. Please don't tell me that whatever turned me into this is also censoring me." Ally tried out a few words experimentally. "...t. ...k. ....am. ..ck." Her eyes widening in horror, she let out a short sob. "Could this get any worse?"
It was the woman hacking her own beard off that spoke first. "Well, Suicide could begin acting all Athenian on us and Dio could begin reverting but... yeah, what's happening is pretty bad as well." Portia finished her chopping before handing back the knife to Ally, to whom her self-preservation instincts screamed at her to apologize to. "And sorry about the Sue-crack. It's just that the Kudzu thinks it may be on to something with me and... well, we should decide where we're heading first." For a minute, Ms. McSweeney wondered if her new staff was any good as a divining or dowling rod.
Grace, privately deciding that more conflict between two interns, one of which was apparently FicPsychs latest guinea-pig and the other who had take serious offence, tried to think of a way out of this. "Alright, how about we hold a vote on weather to go that way..." she pointed down to one random end of the corridor "Or the other way." She then pointed down to the opposite, equally random end of the same corridor.
A sparkling red streak came from one of the non chosen random hallways. Drake was in a confusion. He smelled chicken, and there it was. It was huge. But he was a CAF, and tha tmention he had protection.
Drake screeched to a halt. That wasn't right, was it? He wasn't a CAF anymore.. so why?
Just then the chicken took another puff of the cigarette and Drake thought, "Hmm, smoking equals bad, so bite?"
No sooner then he had thought that then the wide eyed CAF fox settled down then pounced at the chicken, trying to bite it in the glutton maximus.
That was the sound of six feet of seemingly antique hardwood whacking into the skull of the Cute Animal Friend, sub-definition Vulpes Vulpes. As the pounce crumpled and the fox whammed into the floor, he could hear someone say. "Are foxes supposed to sparkle like that?"
It was a woman's voice... but why did the matching face, gracile as it was, have a beard (cut unevenly to about half a foot in length)? Then larger problems came into play as the giant chicken set down one scaly foot on the foxes back, preventing it from getting up. "Normally, I wouldn't react this generously to someone who tried to pounce on me, but given all the weirdness going on, we need all the answers we can."
Gurgan placed a little extra pressure to make sure that the fox got his point. "Not so fast there, @$$hole. You wanna tell me what the F*** you think you were doing?" He took a drag on his cigarette before continuing. "If I LIKE the answer, I'll let you up and we'll go our seperate ways. But if not..." He gave a savage grin and leaned down to whisper something in the foxes ear.
"If I don't like the answer...I'll give you to them." He motioned towards his companions. "Now then-Whattaya say? Speak quickly, fella."
Ally nodded to Portia, decided that maybe she wouldn't kill anyone, and followed along until the sparkly fox appeared. She fingered her knife. "Hmmm. Do foxes make good eating, do you think?"
Grace thought about for a moment. "Doubt it. Anyway, this one sparkles."
Ally shuddered. "Point made."
And the large eyes went even larger. Drake started to yip, trying to explain, but everyone knew that CAFs didn't speak english. The big pink bow on his neck reading Drake was also there, but he was in too much of vulpine history despair. Imagine, a fox being stepped on by a chicken.
Skyfire ran up, waving her paws. "Don't kill that fox, he's an agent! Sorry, normally he's humanoid, his partner would be here to help out but she's a bit busy being attacked by my son at the moment ..."
"Holy s***, there are more of them!" He yelped (erm, squawked.) He gave the senior agent a wary look. "You gonna pounce on me too?"
"And I'll have you know I don't eat things that talk back." She glanced down at herself. "Please don't comment on the pink."
and struggled to get out from under the foot. He was whining and trying to get to Sky. To his mind, Sky equaled safety.
"Okay..." Gurgan took his foot off of his prisoner. "But you keep that little F***er away from me: I have no intention of winding up as a bunch of nuggets." He paused, and glanced at Skyfire. Then at Drake. "Is pink normally a color associated with foxes?"
Skyfire scooped up Drake. "We woke up like this. It could be worse; his partner's now pocket-sized, my son's divebombing everything in sight, and one of our friends is now behaving like a Teletubby on speed. Am I to assume the chicken thing isn't normal either?"
"Yeah. Normally I'm a ghoul-a kind of mutant from the Fallout 'verse." He wormed the cigarette around his mouth. "'name's Gurgan, by the way."
He turned to his companions. "Don't have the foggiest what they were. Shoulda asked. I'll ask now." He took a drag and yelled. "HEY! Who were you before all this happened?"
"... ex-Subcaptain of the Nighthunt, honorary member of the OFUR Long Patrol, responsible for the containment of Molly Rath," Skyfire rattled off with a brief salute. "I actually am usually a stoat, just not a pink one. And this-" she said, holding Drake out for inspection, "is Drake. He is usually a fox, but significantly more human-shaped and less nauseating. He was responsible for the last shapeshifting crisis, but I don't see how he could have done this. The effects are a bit random for the transformation gun."
Ally watched the ensuing events and tried not to laugh. "This just gets weirder and weirder."
Grace frowned. "Could this be magic, maybe?"
Ally raised an eyebrow. "A DoSAT intern speculating about magic?"
"I've seen what magic can do," Grace replied, shuddering at a certain bad memory. "It's why nobody from the Dresden Files continuum is allowed into DoSAT anymore. And we never did figure out how she turned the blaster into a banana."
At the mention of magic, something seemed to twinge in Portia's brain. registering as a slight twitch on one of her eyeborws, but that passed (relatively) unnoticed as she collected herself.
"Look, I don't know half these people, but I think that the more information we have, the closer to figuring this all out we'll all be. So Gurgan, if you'll please start by letting the fox go?" She started in the stoat's direction as the giant ghoul-turned-chicken removed his good from the CAF. "Now," She asked Skyfire. "Where are these other people you mentioned?"
The Fisherman only realised that something was wrong when he woke up lying on the floor of his TARDIS. He went to speak, but found that his vocal cords didn’t want to work, or at least not in the way he expected.
“Whhhaat,” he managed to say in a gurgling voice after a few seconds. “Don’t tell me we crashed again.” As his head cleared and he stood up, he realised that something was very wrong. His skin felt very dry, as if he’d been walking in the desert for days, and Evie was nowhere to be seen. He activated the monitor, which showed that the TARDIS was parked in the Cafeteria at HQ.
“Hello?” a synthesized voice said. “Fish-face!”
The Fisherman looked down to see a round white ball with two handles and a pink eye looking up at him from the floor. He instantly recognised it as a Personality Core from the Portal continuum. Had Evie been… regressed somehow?
“What happened to you?” he asked. “How did you become a core?”
“You think my problems are bad,” Evie replied. “You’re a fish.”
“What.”
“Seriously. Take a look at yourself.”
The Fisherman flicked a switch on the monitor and gaped at what he saw. While he was still humanoid, his head was now distinctly fishy, with large eyes, blue scales, gills and a thin mouth and chin. He looked down at his hands. Still human-ish, but now scaly and webbed.
“What in the Worlds has happened to us?” he shouted.
“Maybe we should go outside, see if we can find any information?” Evie offered.
“Yeah, good point. Hang on though.” The Fisherman rushed off deeper into the TARDIS.
“That’s OK. Just leave me here!” Evie said once he was out of sight. “I’m fine with sitting on the floor. It’s sooo much fun.”
“That’s better,” the Fisherman declared when he returned a few minutes later. He had some sort of glass helmet on; it was open at the top and filled with water.
“Very fetching,” Evie said. “A fishbowl for fish-face.”
“Come on,” her partner replied, picking her up and heading out of the TARDIS.
Ian was starting to get tired of just aimlessly wandering around the halls of HQ. He'd seen a lot of strange things as he did so-- not an uncommon occurrence when one worked at the PPC --and so far, hadn't come across anything that explained his and Lee's transformations.
Ian, hang on a sec, Lee said suddenly, her nose twitching as she scented something. I smell... fish.
"Fish."
Yes, fish, Lee replied. Take a left here.
"Lee, I'm not going to go somewhere just to get you a snack," Ian said,frowning.
Ian, I'm hungry, Lee whined, and I won't stop bugging you until I get something to eat.
"Are you sure that it was only your size that changed? 'Cause you sound like a three year old whining for candy."
Fish... was Lee's eloquent reply. Ian sighed and headed down the hall Lee had pointed out, all the while pointedly not thinking about fish. They ended up near the Cafeteria-- the scorch marks on the wall were a dead giveaway --Lee leaping down to the ground as she tried to figure out where the enticing fish smell was coming from. She figured it out just as the Fisherman and Evie emerged from the Cafeteria.
"No, Lee, don't--!" Ian tried to say, but before he could stop Lee, she jumped at the Fisherman with a gleeful cry of FISH! and latched onto his leg, trying to get at the tasty fish.
"Bwhaa?" was all the Fisherman could manage to say as the small kitten leapt at him and attached itself to his leg. His voice was tinny and distorted as it came through his fishbowl-helmet. "I'm not a fish!"
"I think your face disagrees," Evie snarked.
As the Fisherman flailed his leg wildly in an attempt to shake the kitten off, some water sloshed out of his helmet, dousing Lee.
Lee hissed as the water hit her, and then went flying as the Fisherman's sudden movements dislodged her. Ian dove to catch her before she hit the floor, but missed by a little bit. He got to his feet and quickly scooped up Lee before she could attack the Fisherman any more.
"Sorry about that," Ian said, holding tight to the squirming mass of fur and claws that was currently his partner. "She doesn't usually attack random people in the middle of HQ."
Ian was abruptly crashed into from behind by Emm. The fact that his hair was currently made of fire probably wouldn't help matters.
Ian fell to the floor, instinctively curling his body so that he didn't squish Lee in the process. He managed to keep hold of her, though both of them were mildly stunned by their abrupt descent, so Lee didn't try to escape too hard.
What in the gods' names was that? Lee asked woozily, her mental voice able to be heard by everyone in the area.
"Well, this is embarrassing." Emm scrambled to his feet.
"At least you didn't drop me this time."
"You complain a lot. It's unhealthy."
"I'm a skull. The rest of my skeleton is back in the RC. I don't think I could get more unhealthy."
"Good!" Kirill said with a grin. "Fresh blood!" He pulled open his shirt, looking for his flask of scumbat (two parts scumble to one part bumbat) but it wasn't forthcoming- it appeared to have vanished along with the rest of his clothes.
"Listen, do you people have any scissors or fishing wire?" Kirill said. "What?" His companions had taken on a variety of expressions, from mildly embarrassed to shocked. He glanced down to see his shirt still swinging open. "Oh, right. Damn." He started buttoning it up again. "Why are elves always so well-endowed?"
"Oh good," Evie snarked. "We've got a whole freak show now."
The Fisherman was still nursing his leg after being attacked by Lee. "So what have we got," he said. "A humanoid fish, a Personality Core, a kitten, yarn-hair, fire-head, a disembodied skull and an elf. Assuming none of us normally look like this, we need to figure out what's going on here. Any ideas, 'cause I haven't a clue!"
I am not a kitten, Lee said, and then after a moment's pause: Or at least, not normally. I agree, something is going on, but I doubt it's a TF gun. It feels almost like magic, and trust me, I know my magic.
Kirill sat down heavily on the floor, leaning his back against the Undefined Surface of the wall. His lower back was really getting to him. He growled, muttering imprecations against fantasy artists.
"OK, let's think about this. I assume this is the work of some wizard, or something. What do we need to do? Find them first, peel them like a grape second. Unless someone has some kind of disenchanting ability?"
"It could have been the work of some nut job with a TF gun."
"So one nut job with one TF gun managed to rampage through the entirety of HQ without being seen? Never mind that TF guns don't get this drastic."
"An... invisible nut job with an invisible TF gun!"
"I'm revoking your talking privileges."
"A TF gun. . . that's from that weird fetish continuity, isn't it? I can't remember the name." Kirill turned to face Emm, then stepped as hard as he could on the man's foot. "Listen to me. Whoever turned me into this-" he pointed at his brand new ears and mammaries- "didn't do at random. A transformation into an elf- degrading. Into a woman- intriguing. Into a Slesnaya? Disgusting. I can almost feel my brain rotting with their sweet, sickly, nauseating twoo wub of life- if the transformation starts going deeper, it will be horrible. I'd drown in- what do you call it, emotion that says you oughtn't- guilt. I might feel guilt."
With a visible effort, Kirill caught his temper. He wanted to rage, but it wasn't going to advance his goal, and would alienate the people he could use to get at the culprit. "We need to find whoever did this, and show him how exactly unentertained we are. Do we have any ideas on how to do that?"
"If I could inject some sanity?" Evie began. The Fisherman held her up so that she could address the group. "The first order of business should be to find out how we were transformed. Once we know that we can work out who did it, if indeed this was deliberate."
"We could go to Medical," the Fisherman suggested. "But if everyone in HQ's been affected, then the Doc will be overrun. We could always improvise something. If we work together we should be able to build a basic medical scanner."
Kirill twitched as everyone else's thoughts turned to things other than mayhem. Maybe it was just the diabetic sweetness of his newly acquired elfhood, but he hated being conflicted- his anger and selfishness were actively pulling him in two directions, urging him to focus on revenge and a cure, respectively.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm going back to my cubicle for equipment. Do you need me to pick up anything for your scanner-thing?"
"Build a medical scanner out of what, exactly?" Kay asked, slightly curious in addition to skeptical.
"CADs?" Emm suggested.
The suggestion of building a medical scanner out of CADs sparked a thought in Ian's mind.
"Hey, maybe Miah and Cali would be able to help with that," he said as he got back to his feet, scooping Lee up in his arms as he did so.
Good idea, Lee replied. That is, if they haven't been affected by this too.
"You know what, I think I still have my CAD here," the Fisherman said, reaching into his pocket. "Here we are."
"No, don't it'll..." Evie began, but the Fisherman had already turned it on and pointed it at her.
[Evie. PPC Agent. Personality Core. What. Unidentifiiiiiiiiied.... ohcelestianotthisagain ERRRROR -72 THE CARDBOARD BOX CONTAINS NO DUCKS. SENSE THIS MAKES NONE.]
The CAD fizzed before emitting a small puff of white smoke.
"Funny, they normally go out much more dramatically than..." the Fisherman was cut off by the device rupturing explosively, spraying assorted electronic components over the group.
"Hey, be careful!" Ian yelped as he shielded himself and Lee from flying electronic shrapnel.
Don't you know that Murphy's Law basically runs this place? Lee added, looking frazzled. If anyone else has a CAD or similar device, please do not do what he just did.
"That includes you, brainiac," Kay said to Emm, who was just getting out his own CAD.
I think-- and this is just a thought, don't get me wrong --that maybe we should find somewhere that's not the middle of a hallway to figure things out in, Lee suggested. She eyed Emm's CAD, and then added, Preferably without any CADs, for a start.
"Aaand I've lost interest in this plan." Kirill turned away from the group and began to trot down the featureless corridor. He wanted to run, but the odd. . . jiggling inside his shirt was throwing off his step. It was, he reflected angrily, one of the pitfalls of coming from a fantasy universe- the idealized art was great when he was in his normal body, but something like this happens and you find yourself trying to balance two watermelons on your pecs.
He hurried down the hall. He knew his cubicle wasn't far, but for some reason he kept getting turned around- either his elvish inner ear wasn't as good at navigating corridors as his normal one, or Ironic Overpower thought things were funnier.
A thought of bunnies drifted across his mind. Stomach clenching in dread, he hurried faster.
Caleb was crouched in a ball in the corner of his OC, scowling murderously at nothing in particular. High, wailing sobs grated in his ears, doing little to improve his temper.
The connecting door to RC 273-B opened slowly, and Kestrel crept in with her forelimbs wrapped around her chest. For a moment she stood in front of the doorway, looking simultaneously enraged and humiliated.
"Yew too, then?" she growled.
Despite the lack of natural sunlight, the vampire was sparkling radiantly, and resembled a very irate, human-shaped diamond. "What do you mean, 'too?' you look fine."
With a scowl, Kestrel let her arms drop to her sides, revealing a pair of decidedly humanoid breasts.
"That's just wrong," Caleb remarked. "How about those rookies of yours?"
"Ash's stuck standin' on her--sorry, 'tis his right now-- head. Hope keeps requippin' mallets an' pies an' anvils, fings like that. Artie keeps talkin' in Parseltongue." Kestrel looked past him. "Where's Jack, an' who's that'un cryin' there in the corner?"
Caleb glanced at the pale, half-naked zombie crouched and sobbing on the other side of the room. "Jack got genderflipped."
Kestrel's eyes widened. "Wait, so Jack--"
"Is now a Witch."
Intern Kirill thought sourly as he looked down at his hand. The melted plastic and glass was fused to the bones in his right hand, and the remaining strings of charred flesh were starting to crack under the weight. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and stepped back through the SEP field in Gnat Alley and through the portal into PPC headquarters.
*POP*
Kirill quite suddenly felt different. One second he was a demon-worshipping sadomasochist with a coffee pot fused to the remains of his hand, and the next- he took stock. Still a demon-worshipping sadomasochist, he was sure, but the important part, the coffee pot part, had changed. His hand was suddenly whole again, with much lighter skin and fingers that were, in a word, more delicate than before. Ridiculously delicate. His entire body had a strange light feeling, as if he'd lost a lot of weight or become much strong stronger. The only exception was an odd strain in his lower back, and the strange sensation of his hair touching his ears (unusual in itself) far higher than his ears normally went.
The intern ran to the nearest bathroom and was worried when he found it quite quickly. If the Narrative Laws of Comedy were still in force, then finding the bathroom was inherently funnier than not finding the bathroom. This worried him. He stepped through the door, took a deep breath, and looked in the mirror.
He was an elf. Skin tone had gone from olive to milk-white, hair had turned blonde and added about eleven inches and- oh. He glanced down, realizing that the change was to more than race and species.
For a second, Kirill froze. His species, his mana alignment, his race, even his sex had been suddenly stolen by some catastrophic event, seemingly calculated to tear away at every facet of his physical identity. He was saved from total catatonia only by a single light of comfort: he now had breasts. This was going to require some examination.
"I'll be in my bunk," he said. No one was listening, but it seemed appropriate.
"I am not going out there."
"What, worried that somebody will see you with no clothes on?"
"No," Kay growled. "I'm worried that somebody will see me with no skin on and you know it." She folded her arm bones over her ribcage and did her best to glare at Emm, which was difficult without eyebrows or facial muscles.
"Personally I think it suits you," Emm said cheerfully. He patted the mass of flames his hair had turned into. "More traditional view of a Reaper, you know? Get you a black cloak, carry that scythe of yours and we could scare the hell out of a few people."
"Look. I am not wandering these halls as a walking skeleton, thankyou. I'm staying in here until I've-"
"Put your face on?"
"Ha. Ha. Ha."
"Tell you what. I've got a solution that should please everybody."
"And what would that be?"
Emm proceeded to yank Kay's skull from her spinal column.
"Hey! HEY! This does NOT please me! Put me back on my body this instant!"
"Well, this way you don't have to wander anything." Whistling, he tucked the skull under his arm as it... well, she... screamed dire imprecations at him, and went off to find whoever could have caused this mess.
Kirill was still examining himself in the mirror when he realized that his clothes had changed as well. He'd been so distracted by the physiological shifts that he'd just noted the faint gleam of urple still coming from his armband, so he hadn't realized that his normal vest-and-pants had been replaced by a disgustingly elfy green and white tunic, cloak, and leggings. He leaned closer, then caught sight of the brooch that held his cloak on and recoiled.
It was the the sun-and-tree signet of the Slesnaya. Kirill gagged as a he fumbled with it, trying to tear it off his body without actually touching it. After a moment's panic, he managed to knock it away, sending the wooden brooch clattering into one of the sinks. It took several washes for his hand to feel clean.
This, Kirill decided, was the last straw. Turning him into an elf was degrading. Turning him into a woman actually offered a number of intriguing possibilities. But turning him into a Slesnaya? A hidebound, syrupy, tree-and-bug-hugging elf-girl? That was the last straw. Whoever did this was going to pay.
Still feeling wretched from the touch of the brooch, Kirill charged out of the bathroom and crashed headlong into the man with the flaming hair who was coming down the corridor.
Kay... well, her skull... ranted furiously as Emm carried her down the corridor.
"The forces of darkness will applaud me as I stride through the Gates of Hell, carrying your head on a pike!"
"'Stride'?" Emm asked.
Kay growled. "Alright then, roll! ROLL through the gates of-"
WHAM. The duo were abruptly crashed into by an angry-looking elven woman. Emm fell to the ground as Kay's skull flew out of his hands and bounced down the corridor. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow..."
"While normally I'd appreciate having a startlingly attractive elf chick on top of me," Emm said, "your elbow is sticking into my ribs."
/Dammit,/ Kirill thought, /I meant to get him in the throat. My muscle memory's completely off./ He rolled to his feet, or tried to, but his different proportions and shifted center of mass led to him managing to get his head hooked on the inside of his knee. After several awkward seconds, he was finally able to stagger to his feet with very un-elfy grace.
"Didn't mean to do that," he said to the man he'd crashed into, "I'm not normally this tall. Or flexible." He helped the man to his feet, trying to avoid the flaming hair. "Incidentally, do you know who's responsible for this?"
"Not a clue. I was hoping to find someone who did."
"Would someone PICK ME UP ALREADY?!"
Emm retrieved Kay's skull from where it had landed. "Jeez, Kay, no need to lose your head."
"I will hide your keys beneath the cushions of your upholstered furniture, and NEVERMORE will you be able to find socks that match."
"Don't mind my partner. She gets irritable sometimes."
Kirill glanced down at the skull. "I like her." He turned back to Emm. "Listen, what we need to do is find the person who did this and make them squeal on how to reverse it. Can you manage the finding if I make with the squealing?" Kirill grinned broadly at the thought- the PPC HQ didn't have the kind of infrastructure or help that Rix Maadi did, but DoSAT was an endless source of entertainment. "I'll need a spool of fishing wire, a ballpeen hammer, and a cordless drill."
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you weren't always an elf."
"Oh, brilliant," Kay said sarcastically. "Next you'll be making the extraordinary leap of deduction that I wasn't always a skull being carried around by an idiot whose hair is on fire."
"Well, I don't think it's on fire as much as it is fire."
"That wasn't the important part of that sentence."
"I didn't start out as an elf, but I'm always up for trying new things. If you want, you two can help me out." Kirill winked at the pair of them. "Incidentally, I'm going to need some scissors-" he stopped short at Emm's expression. "I need them to cut my hair before I change back. Elf hair tastes great in applesauce."
Kirill turned back down the corridor in the direction he was fairly sure his cubicle lay. "I'm not sure about the fishing wire, but unless this transformation has extended to appliances, I'll be able to make our perpetrator squeal like a pig." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "You coming?"
"I'll lead the way!" Emm declared, striding confidently ahead of Kirill.
"You do remember how you passed the same portrait of the Sunflower Official five times on our way here, right?"
"It could have been five different portraits of the Sunflower Official."
"Why would there be five different yet identical portraits of the Sunflower Official?"
"The painter could have really liked the Sunflower Official."
"Is it possible to like any of the Flowers?"
"Well, maybe he was a Flow-"
SMACK. Having not been looking where he was going, Emm had walked straight into Ian from behind. HQ was capricious like that.
I haven't yet asked for Permission, but could my agents play too?
Should I take the lack of response as a no?
You can play, I think. Your Agents would be interns, though, I'd say.
EEEEEEEE! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou~! *hugs, bounces off*
Lee woke up feeling oddly claustrophobic. She fought free of the blankets tangled around her-- of which there seemed to be more of then usual --and tumbled to the ground. She lay there for a moment, trying to figure out why she was so winded. Her perspective didn't seem quite right; everything was about a foot higher than it usually was. Her ears flattened against her head as she looked up to see the console looming over her.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Lee padded over to the full-length mirror that hung between two of the bookcases and stopped dead when she caught sight of herself. She swore sharply, passing through several languages before she got a hold of herself. Right. Something had obviously happened while she and Ian were asleep, and-
Ian. Lee's eyes grew wide. What if whatever had happened had affected her partner as well? Lee turned away from the mirror, her own troubles forgotten in the face of the possible harm inflicted on her partner. The ladder up to Ian's bunk gave her a bit of trouble, but eventually Lee made it up. After a little bit of panting to catch her breath, Lee made her way carefully along the length of Ian's body, using her enhanced senses to search out any possible problems. She didn't find any until she reached his head; more specifically, his hair. One small, spotted paw darted out to touch it, and the changed texture confirmed her suspicions. It was time for Ian to wake up.
---
Ian. Ian, wake up, Glod-damn it. This is important.
Ian grunted softly and tried to roll over. A sharp Stop! and the feel of claws digging into the skin on his chest made him pause in his motions. He felt a slight weight pressing down on his chest, which made him open his eyes. His bleary gaze focused on a pair of bright green eyes.
“'Posa, get off,” he muttered, gently pushing at the cat sitting on his chest. She didn't budge.
I'm not Mariposa, Ian, the cat said, and Ian's sleep-fogged brain finally caught on to a few things that had been subconsciously bothering him. One, that the cat was speaking to him telepathically; Two, that the voice was Lee's; and three, that Lee now seemed to have regressed into the form of a mountain lion cub.
“What the hell happened to you?”
I have no idea, Lee replied, carefully getting off of Ian and sitting next to him on the bed. I woke up like this. I'm not the only one who's changed, either. Take a look at your hair.
Feeling rather apprehensive, Ian followed Lee's advice and looked closely at his dreadlocks in the mirror after getting out of bed. Lee followed after him, taking a more circuitous route to the floor, but getting there safely all the same.
“I have yarn for hair?!” Ian spluttered, running his hands over his altered hair. “I look like I'm wearing a Glodawful wig!”
I'm a kitten, Lee said in her best GlaDOS impression. With an agile leap, Lee hopped up onto a shelf and then onto the nearest of Ian's shoulders. Much better, she said, carefully balancing herself in a sitting position, her claws gently latching into the fabric of his shirt. At least this way I'm not liable to be stepped on.
“Comfortable?” Ian asked dryly.
Yes, Lee replied, purring a bit. Let's go and see if anyone else has been affected, or, at the very least, know what's going on.
“Good plan.”
With that, the two DMS agents left their RC and headed out into the labyrinthine halls of HQ.
((I got a little wordy with my reply. Sorry about that. Also, this is what Lee currently looks like. *grin*))
... the inhabitants of RC #88 were woken by a loud hammering on the door.
"FOXGLOOOOVE!" More loud hammering. "I know you had something to do with this! Get out here right now!"
"Mum, are you sure it was 'er?" asked Molly, who was leaning on Agent Skyfire as if about to fall over. She broke away and tried to take a step, and did indeed fall over. "Ow! I dunno 'ow she coulda done this."
"I don't know, but whenever something odd happens to us, it's usually something to do with those two, and I'm guessing Foxglove because, well ..." Skyfire pointed to her own fur, which had turned a particularly horrible shade of neon pink, spattered with blue spots. "She's the only agent I know who openly likes anything pink - Stormsong, for goodness' sake control him!"
Stormsong yanked on the leash to which Moses was attached. The four-year-old otter bobbed merrily against the ceiling, flapped his newly-acquired wings, and squeaked "I'm a bird!"
A high pitched yell soon attracted teh four's attention. It sounded like a very small person was yelling to someone.
"Drake... left left... you silly fox."
A cross sounding yip answered the voice.
"Don't give me that . Now Right!"
A CAF fox came into view, heading for them. On top of the fox, wrapped in a small sheet of blanket was Naomi. She was only 5 inches high, having been shrunk considerably.
"WHOA STOP!!" she screamed as she spotted them, and pulled on the CAF's ears hard from her place on its head.
The fox slammed hard into Stormsong's ankle, sending naomi into Stormsong's ankle. She slowly slid down onto the floor.
"Sorry about that Stormsong. Drake's brakes need adjusting. Also, could someone pick me up please!" she yelled out, not wanting to get stepped on.
"Anyone know what the ERU is going on? I have an idea, but I doubt that's it."
she admitted, thinking back to the incident earlier. After all those flowers had gotten shredded then burned in that 'furnace'.
she looked at Sky then had to stifle a laugh.
"Oh.. I see it happened to you too."
Heartrending wails echoed through the halls, setting Kestrel's already short temper dangerously close to the edge. The ferret glared down at her chest, the offending breasts on which were still there and giving no sign of disappearing anytime soon. "Can't yew shurrim up, Caleb? 'Tis gettin' on me bloody nerves." Artie clung to her back, muttering miserably in Parseltongue.
Caleb glared at her murderously, seeming to sparkly even brighter as he did so. "Kestrel, Jack now has claws that are longer than most rulers. You shut him up."
The Hunter-turned-Witch in question simply blubbered unintelligibly as she trailed behind Caleb.
"I know, Jack," Caleb muttered. "I think Artie got the sweeter deal. Parseltongue's better than sparkling. Or boobs where there shouldn't be."
At that moment, Kestrel spotted the figures up ahead. "Oi, is that Agent Stormsong an' Skyfire an' their kids? An'... an' a fox an' a liddle person. Who is that?"
... and a curly-haired blur popped out. "HIIIIII! Hi, guys, it's so awesome to see you all and it's such a great morning if it is morning 'cos I can't see the sun and that's sad because the sun's so awesome but everything's great anyway and-" Laburnum paused to take a breath. "-I just got up this morning and I'm sooooo happy! Are you happy?" She tilted her head. "Wow! You're pink!"
Skyfire backed off. "Okay, now I know something weird's going on ..."
Naomi eeps and tries to climb up Stormsong a bit more. then paused.
"Oh.. sorry about that LAburnum. You scared me. Say... you remind me of someone.." she paused frowning. A yip form the ground interrupted her and she turned her head then screamed again.
"TWILIGHT VAMPIRES INCOMING!!!"
as yelled as she spotted Caleb. Something was definitely strange.
Drake moved to intercept the vampire, then paused and sniffed him. then he tried to leap in the ferrets arms.
"BAD DRAKE . Don't let the CAF overwhelm you. I swear, if i were bigger I would Backpack you."
Laburnum peered up at Moses, who fluttered and giggled. She blinked owlishly at him, then beamed.
"You're a bird!"
"YAAAY!" they both yelled, throwing their respective hands or paws up in unison.
Skyfire pushed open the door of the response centre. Foxglove was conspicuously absent. "Foxglove?"
"I'm not coming out!" came a yell from the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Moses had unfortunately noticed Naomi and Drake. With a loud cry of "YAAAY! Hugs!" he swooped down on them like a hawk. Stormsong grabbed the little otter as he dived, ending up holding the struggling pup upside-down.
"Bite me, sweet pea," Caleb deadpanned at Naomi's exclamation. "Can we come in? Misery loves company." Without actually waiting for express permission, he stalked into the room. Still sniveling wretchedly, Jack(ie) stumbled after him.
At the sight of Moses fluttering about with wings of his own, Artemis gave a loud (if a bit sibilant) noise of joy and swooped out of Kestrel's arms to hurl himself into the back of Stormsong's neck. Had anyone present been able to understand Parseltongue, they would have known he was proclaiming, "Wings! Mosey 'ave wings! Mosey fly!"
Kestrel left Stormsong to her adoptive son's mercy and stalked into the RC, arms still wrapped around herself. "Best come out, Foxglove," she growled. "Wotever 'tis, can't be worse'n bein' turned into a bleedin' Yiffstar character."
"Technically I do look like a Yiffstar character, just a very specific type," said Foxglove sulkily. She opened the door, revealing that she was wearing Laburnum's dressing gown. Laburnum was a big girl and tended to wear clothes made for someone even bigger, which was fortunate; the dressing gown just about fit Foxglove now, as her personal transformation had caused her to roughly double in bulk.
"Looks like I gained in pounds what my partner lost in IQ points ..." she grumbled, then looked up and blinked at Skyfire, Kestrel, Caleb, and Jack(ie). "Wow. Okay, yeah, yours are much worse."
"Thank you so much," said Skyfire. "So am I to assume you didn't actually have anything to do with this?"
"Hell no!" Foxglove snapped. "If I had, I wouldn't have done this to myself! And frankly Laburnum's dangerous enough when she's not hyperactive, so I wouldn't have done that either." She peered out into the corridor, where Stormsong had just about managed to get the two little boys under control. "How'd you get away with it, Stormy? Nothing seems to have happened to you."
Stormsong mouthed something.
"What?"
Stormsong's face contorted as if he was yelling. All that happened was a thin wheezing noise emitted from his throat.
"Ah."
"Okay.. this seems familiar, but nah, can't be that. "
She bapped drake on the nose and climbed up onto him, then guided him into the room.
"THis is weird of course. If it was only a single effect on all of us, it would make sense. But it seems to vary."
She closed her eyes at Caleb.
"Say... sparkly boy.." she said iritably, "Can you turn down the bling?" she snapped out. She was being annoyed. Being onyl 5 inches high was really getting to her. Add to the fact she was wearing a scrap of cloth as a toga as her clothes had not shrunk with her, she could understand.
"Although, this does seem a bit familiar. Say, Laburnum, reminds me of someone familiar."
Suddenyl drake yipped and started prancing around. Naomi fell off, but then snapped her fingers.
"Oh.. right. Fox, remember that vacation? Doesn't Lab remind you of a certain pink pony?"
"Do you think I'm sparkling because I like it?" he snapped. "Look, I don't know what you think I can do, but 'turning down the bling,' as you call it, isn't one of them!"
The sobbing stopped suddenly, to be replaced by disturbed groaning. Jack(ie) had lowered her claws from her face and was looking at them with narrowed glowing eyes.
"Pleeeease, guys, keep the noise down," she whined. "It hurts my ears. It's annoying..."
Kestrel swore under her breath and quickly took Artemis off of Stormsong's paws. "Bugger, th' zombie's a Witch now. Yer know wot, I fink I'll jest go back t' me RC, wait for wotever in Hellgates this is t' blow over." The ferret dashed out, nearly running into Adder and Deuce, who were approaching the doorway.
At the sight of Caleb, Deuce waved emphatically, and Adder looked relieved. "We can haz halp, plz?" she asked, her voice unusually high. "Sumting b rong wit us." She looked at Skyfire, startled. "Ur colerfull!"
"Speaking of which, what's wrong with Molly?" asked Foxglove, waddling awkwardly into the corridor, unused to her new size. "She looks fine, but I'm guessing there is something up."
"Bloody right there's sumfin' up!" yelled Molly. "I can't 'ardly walk, is wot's up!" She tried to walk, managed one wobbly, dragging step, and collapsed against the wall. "Feels like I got concrete shoes or sumfin'."
Laburnum, meanwhile, had got bored and was merrily running up and down the corridor, singing at the top of her lungs. Stormsong held out a footpaw and tripped her. Laburnum yelped, then giggled.
Adder nodded miserably. "Deuce got da short end uv da stickk," she announced. "Cuz wen he openz his mouf..." She looked at her partner expectantly.
In answer, Deuce shook his head vigorously and clapped his hands over his mouth. Caleb raised an eyebrow.
"What? Toads drop out? Very Grimm's Fairy Tales, don't you think?"
"Iz nut wat happenz," Adder told him. "he beltz out face meltarz."
Jack(ie) had seated herself on the ground at Caleb's feet, and reverted back to sobbing into her claws.
"Sorry about that. I snapped. It's not everyday that I'm shrunk to this new height.. well this low."
She growled as DRake yipped.
"I just wish what's going on."
She then smiled.
"Good job there Stormong. And Molly? "
she looks at her.
"I do wish that you had that last time. I'm still sore from when you ran into me last time."
She shook her head.
"Say.. Silly question, but think we should head to medical? Maybe they know? I don't suppose one of us has a medical tricorder laying around?"
"Iz tink dats a gud idea," Adder agreed. "Iz weird 2 talk lyk dis. Iz like kyoot chatspeak. U guyz shud hav seen Kieran."
"I would like to stop sparkling now," Caleb said emphatically. "And I'm sure Jack would appreciate not having boobs just as much as Kestrel would."
Deuce seemed to notice Jack(ie) for the first time, and jumped back, opening his mouth in surprise. A look of panic crossed Adder's face.
A resounding (though impeccably in-tune) voice thundered from Deuce's mouth, the force of which sent a wind whipping through the RC and slammed the small agent back against the wall.
"WOAH-OH-OH-AH-AH-AH-AAAAA-HA-AH-AH-AH! WOAH-OH-OH--mmf!"
Adder had managed to reach Deuce's side and was holding his jaws shut with both hands. "Sry!" she squeaked.
An unearthly shrieking was coming from Jack(ie) as she slowly stood up, eyes fixed on the Floaters. With a muttered swear word, Caleb dug into his pocket and produced a small paper bag, which he shoved into Jack(ie)'s claws. The Witch calmed down almost immediately and sat back down with her treat.
"Sugar. Thought that might happen." Caleb glared at Deuce. "Don't do that again."
"Wuz not his falt!" Adder protested.
(If you're confused about Deuce, the poison joke makes this come out of his mouth every time he opens it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCNICT2en_U
Also, I'll be gone for the next three days at freshman orientation for college. So if you guys continue this RP, you have my permission to use my agents as you see fit. Go nuts; it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back.)
Then took off, tumbling naomi into the air. Luckily, or unluckily Moses caught her and started to hug her.
"Hey... Let me go Moses. I'm not a doll."
she protested, but when one is just 5 inches tall, not much one can do against a flying otter cub. Especially when several feet off the ground.
The mustelids tried to catch Moses and pull Naomi out of his grasp, but otters are slippery at the best of times, and when wings are brought into the equation they're almost impossible to catch. Stormsong wrapped the leash around his paw and yanked Moses down to head level, then began the arduous task of extracting Naomi from his paws.
Skyfire looked from them to the corridor Drake had run down, shouted "You deal with Naomi, I'll bring Drake back!" and ran off before Stormsong could object. He mouthed something unsuitable for mixed company, then turned to Foxglove and mouthed Help me! Foxglove grabbed the otter and let Stormsong, the one with more manual dexterity, prise his claws open. Moses, thinking of this as a fun game, laughed and started chewing Naomi's hair.
"Hey.. nice Moses..." She eeped at this as the otter took on a short ride that was cut short as Storm brought him down.
"Hey.. don't drop me!!" she yelped. As Storm started to unpry, she started to relax.
That's when Moses started to chew his her head. She flialed, managing to get free. She panted.
"Oh.. FOx... question." she panted while scrambling up Stormsong's arm to his shoulder.
"What happened to your hell hounds? Is this related to all, or just us agents?"
Foxglove pointed back into the RC. "Marile seems to have escaped. She's been in her tank all day, whatever this is must be spread by touch, or maybe airborne. Wait, on second thoughts ..." Foxglove went back into the room and peered into the tank. "Hang on, there's a bit. She sort of has a blue rash - I didn't notice it before because she's patchy-coloured anyway."
The Mini-Deepcoiler hissed indignantly and waved her fins.
Re-entering the corridor, Foxglove stumbled over Laburnum, who was still lying flat on the floor. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm making dust angels!" Laburnum declared gleefully.
"So airborne. And blue... Blue..." She frowned.
"That.. seems familiar......"
She frowned.
"Say.. Fox? Would you say that our problems.... seem to be related to our personalities?"
"Some of 'em, yeah," mused Foxglove. "Like me, I'm the fragile speedster in our little gang, fight-wise, and, well, look at me." She poked her stomach, losing her finger up to the second knuckle. "Laburnum's ... well, she has her cheerful moments and her stupid moments, but she's never like this."
Laburnum rolled onto her back, spitting dust. "Why does my mouth taste crunchy? ... Bored now." She jumped up and started running up and down the corridor again, giggling.
"Fox... you remember where we went on vacation yes? " She asked slowly.
"Do you think.. that it migth be that?"
she asked. She has no clue how it is that though.
Is this one of those "pass the hatchet" games?
