Eat my dust, Valve.

The third installment of the only everyone's favourite DoI series is back with an episode to cap off the year! Want to re-read previous episodes? You can find them right here.

The usual disclaimers apply: the PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia, Portal to Valve Corporation, the Rainbow Factory to Aurora Dawn, and World One to itself. Officer Rooney belongs to Lily Winterwood.

I'd like to thank Desdendelle and the Irish Samurai for their excellent beta-reading services.

Concrit is welcome, as always!

Episode 3

There comes a time in every agent’s life when they must brave the maze-like corridors of HQ and make their way to a seldom-used place. This strange pilgrimage could take place once a month, once a week, or even once a day for the more neurotic agents. The causes of this trip were varied: some cited personal reasons, some were forced by their partners (usually the aforementioned neurotic types), and some had simply gotten lost. Either way, agents made their way to this room at least once during their time in Headquarters. It was like death and taxes: the more you waited before succumbing to them, the more your life turned into a living hell.

Some called it a chore. Some called it a waste of their time.

For Agents MacFarlane, San Lorenzo and Chang, however, it was simply laundry day.

The trio hauled mesh bags filled with dirty laundry down the Hall of Many Different Obstructive Potted Plants, ducking under overgrown foliage and swatting away branches and vines that hung down from the ceiling. Penny Chang, a short Chinese girl with black hair, led the way.

“Okay, I’m sure the entrance to the laundry room is somewhere around here,” she said, checking a door half-hidden by a cactus. “Last time, there were two big rose bushes around the door... guys?”

Luisa and Angus were too busy discussing the subtle yet steady increase in the DoI’s popularity to answer Penny.

“Yeah, and I heard a story told by a pair of Assassins that actually acknowledged the fact that we took care of some of their paperwork beforehand,” said Angus. “You remember the Factory, right? The one that scared the living daylights out of Gaspard for a week? Yeah, it’s dead and the DoI was mentioned! Maybe we’re crawling out of the hole of anonymity.”

“Meh. It’s going to take a lot more time before us Spies get more credit for our work,” replied the Argentinian woman as she brushed a strand of long curly black hair out of her eyes. “But you’re right, Tubbs, it’s getting better.”

Angus recoiled as if he had been stung. “Tubbs? That was seven months ago! Good grief, are you still sore about that steak? Okay, so maybe I do keep on nabbing your food just for kicks-- you should really see your face-- but I said I was sorry, Luisa! Or should I say, Entwife...”

“Hey, I thought we agreed to never talk about this again,” hissed Luisa, her face turning an interesting shade of vermilion as she rounded on her coworker. She raised a finger and poked Angus in his rather ample chest. “If you ever mention it again, I will--”

Penny was suddenly between the bickering pair and separated the two before they tried to strangle each other. “Hey, hey! C’mon guys, can’t we all just give it up? The laundry room is right there, so can you just please give it a rest?”

The frenemies separated with a few grumbles and a few half-hearted insults (“Go back to Middle-earth, Entwife.” “Plug your pie hole with more cake, Tubbs.”) and followed Penny through a doorway half-hidden behind massive leaves. The laundry room stretched out in front of them, with a high domed ceiling dominating innumerable rows of washing machines that filled the area with a soft thrumming noise. A large marble basin near the door bubbled quietly, water gently flowing down carved grooves into drainpipes. The washing machines were arranged more or less by order of size and function (this one washes your clothes! This one washes your shoes! This one stains your clothes black!) in haphazard rows around the basin. A complex network of pipes protruded from behind the machines, literally tying the entire room together with hundreds of metres of contorted piping that rose into the air, tangled themselves, then sunk into the tiled floor.

Angus squinted and recognized a nearby figure as Officer Rooney, a recent DoI recruit. The blond man turned to his friends. “Hey, I’ll just go and see Rooney for a couple of minutes, okay? I didn’t get the chance to actually talk to him after that great big pillow fight. I’ll catch up later,” he said and hobbled under the weight of his laundry over to the former police officer.

Penny smiled and waved while Luisa simply shrugged and followed a faded spray-painted line on the floor labeled “This way to the good machines!” The pair trudged past various machines, various agents, various agents beating up machines because their clothes had been stained urple when they had their backs turned until the spray-painted line ended in front of several tired-looking washer-dryer units in a completely deserted corner of the room.

As Luisa piled her clothes into the machine and Penny hunted down a box of detergent, the Argentinian Spy heard someone nearby muttering things about the Flowers. She looked behind the washing machine and found a young woman with red hair and bright yellow clothing scribbling something down on a sheet of paper with a blue wax crayon. A stack of crudely folded pamphlets bearing titles such as “REPENT” and “YOU SERVE AN IMPOSTOR” sat next to her.

“Hey, you! What are you doing back there?” said Luisa, gesturing at the woman. “Would you mind not squashing the pipes? I’m trying to wash-- ack!”

The woman had sprung from her nook and grabbed Luisa’s shirt collar in one hand. The redhead hung there, feet not touching the ground as Luisa straightened herself and tried to pry her off. “Agent! What is your name?” the woman asked.

“Gerroff me!”

“Good, Gertrude. Listen to me, as this is important,” said the redhead as she somehow managed to stay anchored around Luisa’s neck. “The Sunflower Official is dead and the one that is currently sitting in his flowerpot is an impostor and--”

“SOMEONE GET THIS OFF OF ME!” yelled Luisa. She saw Penny rounding a corner out of the corner of her eyes. “Penny! Help me get rid of her!”

The Chinese agent dropped the box of detergent she was carrying. “Nonono! Don’t let go of her, she’s the Sunflower’s Witness! FicPsych wants her! Stay right there, I’ll get help!” she yelled as she ran back towards the exit.

Luisa sighed, wrapped her arms around the Witness, and dragged her towards the nearest oversized front-loading washing machine. Once there, she opened the door with her foot and stuffed her cargo inside. She half-closed the door behind her, leaving it open a fraction of a centimetre. The Witness tried to push against the door but Luisa leaned against it with the small of her back.

“So, you’re wanted by FicPsych, eh? What for?” asked Luisa, straightening her collar and smoothing the creases in her shirt. “No, wait, you were saying something about the Sunflower Official, is that it?”

“He’s a fake! I have concrete evidence that he has been replaced by an impostor who seeks to overthrow the rest of the PPC. You can read all about it here,” said the Sunflower’s Witness, pushing a pamphlet through the narrow opening between the door and the washing machine. “Everyone should repent and join me in the revolution against the usurper!”

Luisa took the pamphlet and looked through the crayon illustrations-- some of them flaky due to the Sunflower’s Witness having pushed down so hard when drawing-- and said, “Gee, don’t you think that the other Flowers would have noticed by now? They’re kinda like telepaths or something. Heck, the Sub Rosa’s the head of my department and she knows pretty much everything that goes on in HQ. I don’t think she would have missed something that big, yeah?”

A sigh and a “You don’t understand because you’re blinded,” wafted from the belly of the machine. “Ah! I’ve never seen the Intel patch before. It’s very nice. Almost as nice as the DMS one, actually.”

Luisa’s right hand flew to the Velcro pad on her left sleeve. No patch. She crouched and peered into the washing machine’s glass door. “What do you think you’re doing? Give me back my flash patch!”

“It’s a bargaining chip. As are these,” the Sunflower’s Witness said, pulling Luisa’s wallet, wrist watch, and keys out of her pockets. “You let me out of here and I give you back your stuff.”

The Spy was taken aback for a few seconds, then snorted with laughter. “Ha! Do you honestly think I’m that stupid? No, I’ll just let FicPsych pick you up and grab my stuff later.”

“Be that way then,” said the Sunflower’s Witness, closing the door and slamming the inside of the washing machine with a fist. It rumbled to life and began to vibrate ominously.

Luisa, was rooted to the spot for several seconds, mouth agape. She then threw open the washing machine door and thrust her hand inside, groping at... nothing? The agent heard something clank behind her. Luisa spun around just in time to see the Sunflower’s Witness crawl out of a nearby drying machine. She gave a squeak of surprise and bolted down the row with Luisa in hot pursuit.

“No traps can contain me!” yelled the redhead. The Sunflower’s Witness dived into another washing machine and started it up before Luisa could catch up. When the Spy reached the machine, the Witness was gone just like before. The Argentinian woman stopped and listened for any noise that might betray the madwoman’s movements. A clanging noise came from her left and Luisa rushed towards it, sprinting down rows and vaulting over agents and their laundry baskets.

“You-are-not-getting-away!” panted Luisa, punctuating each word with a step. Even if the Witness was using machines to warp around the room, Luisa was still gaining on her quarry. After a few close calls, the Witness hung a sharp right and wiggled into the narrow space between two drying machines. Luisa, unable to follow, let out a grunt of frustration and leaned in front of a washer-dryer unit to catch her breath.

Two seconds passed before the dryer door suddenly exploded outwards at head-height, braining Luisa and knocking her to the ground. The dazed agent watched as the Sunflower’s Witness clambered out of the dryer and dropped to the floor. The redhead gave a gasp of surprise when she saw the Spy feebly stirring on the Generic tiles and dropped to her knees.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to--” she started but took notice of the agents that were starting to crowd around the pair. “I’m sorry!” said the Witness with a final glance downwards as she darted towards what appeared to be the path of least resistance.

She expected it to be a short run to the unguarded exit. She didn’t expect to be tackled by eighty kilograms of overweight Spy. The Witness recovered spectacularly though, disentangling herself from Angus’ grip as soon as she hit the ground and rolling away from the agent. She sped past Penny and a FicPsych worker who had just arrived on the scene and escaped into the maze-like corridors of HQ.

As Penny and the Nurse wheeled around to chase the Witness, Angus kneeled beside Luisa. “Wait, try not to move your head,” said Angus. “You’ve just suffered a nasty blow to the noggin and there’s the possibility that you might have a very minor case of serious brain damage.”

From her position on the floor, Luisa groaned and raised a hand to her brow. “Ugh. I know enough about first aid to help myself, Tubbs. And I thought Yakov was the only one who dropped random references to whatsits when he talks. Don’t you dare start.”

“Good. Just checking to see if you’re still with us,” said Angus. He paused and looked towards the spot where the Witness had been moments before. “Still, that was a pretty sweet tackle, huh? And just look at that: I knocked the change right out of her pockets! There’s a wallet, some keys, a flash patch, crayons and drawings, and look! There’s even her watch!”

Luisa cracked a grin and looked at Angus. “Hey Tubbs? I think we’re even now.”

- - - - -

Coming soon^TM in 2013: Gaspard's fourth Intelligence Report, a DIA spinoff featuring Taldaris and Fire Flash, and the return of Agent Harris Frost!