((That's okay. No matter how much Lonny likes being the center of attention, this thread has more important things to deal with by now. I'll just declare my last post before this thread was moved up here to be about ten seconds or so after your previous post. Potentially further, since I thought Sebak was with the group when he apparently isn't at this point. So, wait, then how is Sebak over at the archery range when there's simultaneously a Sebak sitting in the coffee shop behind the rest of the group? Unless... the coffee-shop Sebak's another body-copy of the % entity! Uh-oh. I'm glad the characters can't hear beyond these double-parentheses.))

On the northwest side of New Caledonia, a cemetery took up an unassuming patch of ground on a low hill. Those living around the hill tended to stay away from it, since for some reason, the presence of numerous tombstones tended to make most humanoid species nervous.

The Yertis had no such reservations. After briefly scanning the area for other minds, it moved to one of the uppermost sections of the hill, stopping next to an unassuming tombstone dedicated to Makes-Things, the famed co-founder of DoSAT. Those agents that have visited DoSAT within the past few years would likely be very confused by its presence, but in truth, the gravestone was only there as a location marker. Makes-Things's body had never been found, for what were in retrospect quite obvious reasons, and the gravestone's value as a memorial site was only a beneficial side effect to its intended function.

The Yertis felt around with its roots close to the base of the gravestone, quickly locating a pressure switch that, if one were judging solely by shape and position, was originally intended to be stepped on. However, as a being possessing no feet, the Yertis instead activated the switch by pressing down on either side with two of its nearest roots until the Flower detected a distant grinding sound. It moved back a few feet as a small section of ground shifted, the gravestone tilting back with it to reveal a passage under the hill. Contracting its branches to keep them from hitting the sides of the corridor, the Yertis descended, pushing another switch on its way down to close the passage behind it.

Even after the tunnels widened out, it kept its branches clustered inward until it reached the central communications room, alerting a few of the technicians monitoring various streams of information from a subspace messaging device. One of those technicians looked up as his Flower superior approached him, the Yertis's ambient telepathy radiating irritation and disapproval as it advanced.

There had better be an extremely good reason for interrupting me during inspection, the Yertis said firmly. The recent instability in Headquarters isn't going to last forever, and I've been given a prime opportunity to see how my officers respond to unusual problems, of which I do not relish wasting a second.

"Actually, sir, what I needed to report may be tied to the instability," the technician replied, turning his swivel chair to face the Flower. "We've had reports of a god-mode Suvian posing as an Agent."

The Deputy of the Department of Internal Affairs was suddenly paying its full attention. Where? What is it? How much damage has it done?

"As of the most recent report, it's only caused acid damage to a few meters of road in Soeur Jeanne Avenue and the nearby buildings. We knew it was god-mode mainly due to its vast power set, which included shapeshifting, self-duplication, and a few other potential high-class threats. I say potential because it claimed to have them, but it also claimed to be a terror of gods and a devourer of worlds, so I doubt we can take anything it says at face value."

Where is it now?

"It's already duplicated at least once, so it could have secondary and tertiary selves anywhere in the area, and right now, all I have to go on is the report from a vacationing DTE Agent on the scene and one of our patrolling officers that reported it as 'a big scary thing that just showed up out of nowhere'. There's good news, though. Two Officers managed to destroy its primary body."

What did they use?

"A black hole."

Ah.

"Pity it wasn't something a little more portable," quipped one of the other technicians sitting near the subspace receiver. "We can't send people out armed with black holes, because we'd do more damage than it's-"

Be quiet, Pearson.

"Sorry, sir."

The Yertis paced about the small amount of free space in the communications room for a moment before turning back to the first technician.

Put the patrol officers on alert. Logically, this thing should hang low after its primary body died in so cinematic a manner, but the day Suvians behave logically is the day the Weeds grow feet, so we should expect anything. I also need Carpenter protocol active. If this thing can shapeshift, we need to make sure it isn't impersonating one of our officers, or one of the Headquarters agents running around the city. If it sends a duplicate into HQ, next thing we know it'll be trying to replace de Sod.

Normally, I'd say I don't want to alarm people, but since this thing's already spooked one of the patrollers and sprayed acid on one of our streets, it's safe to say they're alarmed already, so I just want to make sure the intruder's contained. Run checks on everywhere it might have been, just in case. We don't want to miss anything that could grow a new Suvian.

Oh, and another thing: give me the names of the officers who took out its first body and tell them good job from me; they'll be on the fast track to promotion if they keep that up, and if they're not mine, I'll put in a good word with the Tiger Lily at our next department meeting.

The Yertis shook its berries in satisfaction. That felt good. It's been a while since I had to give that many instructions. It looked down at the technician, who was still staring at the Flower as if anticipating him to speak again. What are you waiting for? I'm done. Get the orders moving.

Nodding, the technician turned back to the communication array, preparing to transmit as the Yertis moved back toward the cemetery entrance.

If I can position myself correctly, it said to itself as it ascended the stairs leading back outside, I might be able to pull off that inspection after all.

((I know, I make the bluntest names for protocols ever. Bluh. Anyway, I thought that we should see the reactions from the New Caledonia DIA to the problem of %, since the combination of Sigma's exonet message and an enormous monster made of snakes, eyes, and grasping appendages would likely get their attention, and thus, this scene was born. I hope it works.
If anyone wants to give a name and species to the unnamed New Caledonia DIA patroller or the unnamed New Caledonia DIA technician, feel free to do so. I deliberately left them without either in case people would want to. Just don't make it anything too silly.))

Permission is not required for RPs, since their canonicity is considered dubious by default. Plus, RP is a great way to develop new characters, so we don't want to deny people the opportunity to do so pre-Permission. However, if the RP's creator (in this case, SeaTurtle) wants to have a strictly canonical, Permission-only kind of RP, they can do that. We'll have to wait and see what SeaTurtle says about it.

I think established NPCs are off-limits either way, though, since developing them would constitute adding to PPC canon. That's just my instinct, though; I'm not sure how that's been handled historically.

Yeah, the treasure hunt RP was unfortunate. I actually would have had to drop out in any case, since I had a meeting that weekend, but I'd hoped things would happen before I left, and I could've written my characters a graceful exit, perhaps to make a glorious comeback later. Somebody (preferably the person who started the game) really has to take charge and run things in a an event-driven situation like that, or we get exactly what we got: everyone has a different idea about what should be happening, and therefore nothing does. Rails are good!

~Neshomeh

Compared to the Generic Grey hallways of HQ, the PPC City of New Caledonia was like a resort town: it had sunshine, fresh air, food that didn’t come to life and cause an Emergency, sunshine, places to sit, greenery, and sunshine. Due to their shift-based schedule, Infrastructure Department agents accounted for most of the city’s visitors, but today was an exception. Floaters, Assassins, Bad Slashers, and even some Untanglers had discovered the city and were currently milling about, taking in the sights. And the sunshine.

The general architectural style was reminiscent of an old European city: tall and narrow buildings with brick facades placed close to one another, cobblestone streets lined with trees, and the odd open plaza complete with statues of famous Agents or fountains.

Along the street known as the Rue Des Fleurs walked a yellow Earth pony mare wearing a set of black armour and a rather nondescript black-clad young man with a blue bowtie. They weaved through the crowds in silence, slowly making their way westward. The duo crossed the restaurant district, which was practically overflowing with people trying to find someplace to eat lunch. Agents streamed in and out of restaurants, argued with their friends about where they should eat, or rested on the benches that lined the street.

The two agents eventually reached a park with a pond at the outskirts of the city, where the paved road turned to a beaten earth path. They walked around the pond until it was between them and the trail then stopped under the shade of a tree that leaned over the water. The pony reached into her saddlebags, pulled out a paper bag using her teeth and offered it to her human companion. The man reached inside and tossed a handful of grains into the water. The seeds had barely touched the surface of the water before a swarm of ducks converged noisily on the spot, nipping at the food. The man continued feeding the birds for the better part of a minute before crumpling up the bag and placing it back inside the pony’s saddlebags. After looking around to make sure he and his friend were truly alone, the man broke the silence.

“It was a good idea to go for a walk, Fire Flash. Thank you.”

The mare brushed a lock of her red-and-orange mane out of her eyes with a foreleg. “Nothing to it, Gaspard. You looked like you needed some fresh air anyways; I’m not sure if you noticed, but you’ve lost some weight in the past few weeks. I think you’re overdoing it with that plan of yours.”

“Oh, that,” said Gaspard, looking down at his shoes. “No, no. It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Fire Flash firmly. “You’re running yourself ragged. Besides, how do you know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank? Some parts of the story seem a really far-fetched to me.”

“You’re forgetting who sent it,” said Gaspard. “He would never joke about that.”

The cartoon pony made a sound halfway through a snort and a sigh. “Right. Still doesn’t rule out the fact that this could all be the product of a delusional mind. ‘Cause were talking about a guy that was perfectly willing to go through with the Cafeteria Ma—“

“I know,” interrupted Gaspard. “But he’s definitely sane. He couldn’t have recorded everything in great detail, given it to his friends, and then given it to me without somebody noticing he had gone mad.”

Fire Flash rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. He was mad since the beginning. I mean, how could he have lived with himself after the incident?”

Gaspard shook his head. “He couldn’t. He neuralyzed himself immediately after the battle but later found out that the memory was more… persistent than he thought.”

Silence fell between the agents as they watched the birds battle over the last few seeds in the water.

“I still think this is completely insane, but thanks for talking to us about this,” said Fire Flash once the birds had settled. “We’ll help. Maybe this time it will turn out differently.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s the plan. If we can convince Agent Terabyte to shift towards a more tech-oriented role, we have a chance to go into a full-blown power play with the DIA on our side,” said Gaspard with a smile. “We could end the war within a matter of weeks.”

“Glad to hear it. Oh, and keep that positive attitude, will you? It’s better than that moping routine that you’ve been doing.” Fire Flash craned her neck towards the city. “Wanna head back? I think Taldaris and Cloudsweeper went to the theme park. You could do with a little R&R.”

“Lead on, ma’am.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Stop.”