Please welcome the agents of Response Center 221a: Department of Floaters~!
Agent #1- Robert Vernet, formerly known as Sherlock Holmes
Appearance: Wild, shaggy brown hair, dark eyes, and a faint stubble across his chin. Facial expression can best be described as 'pensive', unless you're in the Harry Potter continuum, where 'thoughtful' will have to do. Tends to have a meerschaum pipe clenched between his teeth, full of Longbottom Leaf. Tall and bony. Wears the black uniform of an average PPC agent, with a Floater flash patch on his right shoulder... a dark brown deerstalker hat, and a long blue scarf. If asked about these accoutrements, he simply laughs.
Personality: Brilliant, arrogant, and just a leetle too self-confident. Vain, when it comes to his mental capacities, and responds a little TOO well to flattery. He's originally from the Victorian era, and was originally one of the 'leading men' in a piece of slash. He has a number of hang-ups related to this. Has a highly addictive personality, though his addictions tend to be to ward off boredom. Before coming to the PPC, he smoked like a chimney, drank too much, did cocaine and morphine, played World of Warcraft, and watched entirely too much bad daytime TV. Now, he doesn't get bored as often- his console won't LET him- so he mostly restrains himself to the wide, WIDE array of bleeproducts available to agents. Doesn't make friends easily. A bit of a loner. Tries to be coolly logical, like his (original) namesake. Some days he is better at this than others. Has inherited his namesake's deductive skills, and tastes in most areas. Speaks a little more formally than your average teenage PPC agent, but a little less formally than some of the agents who are ACTUALLY from the Victorian Era, due to his original authoress being lazy. Oh, and his RC looks like it's a mess, but he's got an 'idiosyncratic' (read- completely batsh*t) system of keeping everything where it goes.
History: Robert comes from an Implausible Crossover RP- South Park/Sherlock Holmes. In this fic, instead of barely surviving his plunge from the Reichenbacher Falls, Holmes fell through a portal into South Park. General hilarity and some slash-y romance ensued. When the PPC came to clean things up, they found themselves with a problem, in the form of one Sherlock Holmes. In canon, Holmes is repeatedly stated to be rather sexless, and almost emotionless. However, while this Holmes was more than capable of emotion, and had fallen in love with (an adult version of) a South Parkian, he wasn't a Gary Stu. He was like Paddlebrains- a legitimate, functional Character Replacement. Long story short, he decided to work with the PPC rather than die. His name's Robert in homage to Robert Downey Jr., and Vernet because he always liked the name. (It was a relative of his.) He's at the PPC for almost a year now, and has already driven two partners off (they couldn't handle his 'quirks'.)
Weapons: A sword-cane, which he can use as either a sword or a singlestick, and a revolver. He's an accomplished boxer, and has trained- but is not very good- at the Japanese art of Baritsu.
Lust Objects: John Watson and Irene Adler, from Sherlock Holmes; Christophe 'ze Mole' DeLorne from South Park; L from Death Note; Charlie Epps from Numb3rs; River Tam from Firefly.
Fandoms: Anything remotely Sherlock Holmes related, Death Note, Numb3rs, Lie to Me, South Park, Firefly, Ender's Game, and Lord of the Rings. He enjoys any canon that's big and complicated and has well-defined rules. He really loathes bad Holmes adaptations, and HATES Psych because the main character tries to pass his powers of observation off as magic.
~
Character #2: Mundar o' the Five Hills (A.K.A. Mr. Fivehills)
Appearance: Mundar's a dwarf. As such, he's short, squat, and thick-boned. 'Compact' might be the proper word to use here. His beard's long, thick, ruddy, dirty, and beer-soaked. He TRIES to braid it Gimli-style, but ends up leaving it half-done and/or coming apart. He's also got a full head of thick, wild, dirty ginger hair. His skin's tanned, almost weatherbeaten, and also dirty- he seems to have a permanent layer of grime on him. He's got twinkling, dark eyes, and laugh lines etched into his face. He's bare-chested and barefoot, though he wears a black kilt with the Floater flash patch on it. Until recently, he refused to wear any other clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of the PPC, he's discovered Jayne's Hat, and wears a replica of it, as often as Vernet will permit.
Personality: Mundar is merry, cunning, shrewd, and a wee bit of an anarchist. He's obsessed with his own personal freedom, and will do anything to flaunt the fact that he's 'free-er' than you. In fact, he is the freest dwarf ever. Any who dare to challenge this claim are met with a first-hand view of what lies under his kilt, until they require large amounts of bleeprin. If Mundar's life is threatened, he'll announce that he'll die a free dwarf and rip off his kilt. He's hearty, laughing, and fond of drink and song. Usually all of those together at once. He's extremely gay- his straight, male creator made him so for the LOLs- but is firmly in the closet, and won't admit to any of his LOs. He has a bad habit of using any piece of paper in reach as a towel/toilet paper. Vernet has taken to leaving a copy of 'New Moon' out for him to use for the purpose.
Mundar is having some trouble adjusting to PPC life, for three reasons: First, he is having some trouble adjusting to the idea of following the rules/charging Sues instead of killing them on sight/not being able to drink 24/7. After a few run-ins with the Flowers that Be, he's grudgingly following the rules he needs to follow, and ignoring the rest. Secondly, he can't read. Vernet is teaching him, and he's learning Canon from books on tape, but until then, it puts him at a disadvantage when it comes to the Words. Thirdly, he clashes with his partner a lot. Vernet likes stability and order, and is less than patient with people who break the rules; Mundar is nothing if not chaotic and unruly. Their arguments are legendary.
History: Mundar is a minor character from an original Dungeons and Dragons campaign setting named 'Erythos'. He was supposed to be a friendly NPC, assisting the heroes. Once his role in the campaign was finished, his author had no idea of what to do with him. He let an authoress adopt him. Said authoress promptly stuck him in the PPC, where he's been languishing ever since.
Weapons: He'd prefer his axe; if that isn't available, he can use pretty much any heavy weapon. He's not averse to using his fists either.
Fandoms: Lord of the Rings, Firefly, Pokemon, Order of the Stick, and Artemis Fowl. He has a guilty weakness for Twilight, though he'd never admit this to any of the other agents.
LOs: Gimli, son of Gloin, from LOTR; Mulch Diggums, from Artemis Fowl, Jayne Cobb from Firefly; Jacob Black, from Twilight. Of course, he won't admit to any of these, either.
*Ze Piece*:
To anyone but Robert Vernet, RC 221a looked like a pigsty. Books, loose papers, and video game controllers were scattered across the surface of Vernet’s long, narrow desk, three empty tea mugs sat on top of the TV, clothing hung from every available surface, and a bag of Longbottom Leaf rested inside his Killer Rabbit slippers. If there was any organizational scheme at all, only a genius or a madman could have understood it.
Unfortunately for his former partners, Vernet was a little of both.
The dark-haired Floater flicked through a stack of Intelligence reports, tracing the lines of text with a long, bony finger. He chuckled, and placed them on top of a teetering paper stack. To him, this wild mess looked like the very face of order. It was his own little world, and he was at the center.
That was, until a muddy dwarf fell from a hole in the ceiling, crash-landing on the tallest pile.
Vernet stared at him for a long moment. The dwarf was filthy, covered from head to toe with greenish mud. He had wild, ginger hair, an unruly, ginger beard, weatherbeaten skin, and he positively reeked of beer. His only article of clothing was a threadbare kilt.
“...Who in God’s name are you?” Vernet frowned.
The dwarf staggered to his feet, sending a few more papers falling off the desk. He planted one muddy foot firmly on top of Vernet’s copy of The Silmarillion.
“I am MUNDAR O' THA FIVE HILLS, Bane of Norskai, Nemesis of Du'Kal, Defiler of Ancient Scrolls, Public Enemy Number Two, and FREEST Dwarf in tha Land!” he roared.
Vernet winced, and tried to tug the book away without Mundar noticing. His stance was extremely stable, though, and eventually, the Agent gave up. He had more important things to worry about. Such as how a dwarf had gotten into his RC to begin with.
“Vernet. Robert Vernet.” He extended his hand for Mundar to shake, but the dwarf frowned and put a hand to the hilt of his axe.
He gave it up as a bad job, again, and lowered his hand. Vernet sized him up in the blink of an eye, as he usually did. He could tell a lot about someone just from giving them a once-over, because he noticed small details that few other people caught. Right now, though, he was looking for one thing.
“You aren’t a Stu,” he said, relieved. With a list of titles like that, he had been worried… but there was a distinct lack of urple or glitter in the dwarf’s general vicinity, and Stuthors tended to hate dwarves anyway. They weren’t pretty enough.
“...Stu?” Mundar looked around, bewildered. His gaze landed on the stacks of paper, and he grinned.
“Oh, just what I needed!”
Before Vernet could stop him, Mundar snatched up the front page of the Intel report he’d been reading and smeared it across his bare chest, wiping away the mud. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction, and reached for another sheet.
“Get away from that!” Vernet snatched the paper from his hands. “That's going into my casebook, you little-“
He cut himself off. There was no point to being impolite, even to a barbarian like this.
“Hey! I found it fair an' square!” Mundar leaped at him, axe in one hand, grabbing for the sheet. “An' I'm not finished with it!”
Vernet stepped back, holding his hands up in a conciliatory way. He didn't want to anger an inebriated, axe-wielding dwarf.
“Go ahead, take it. ...Where did you come from?” he asked, quietly.
The dwarf’s eyes widened, and he frowned.
“I'm from the Trollwood, a' course!” he said.“ Ain't ye heard o' me?”
/Great God above…/ Vernet pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t like people, and this- this dwarf was particularly infuriating. He went through the words of his mantra in his head, calming himself, and took a deep breath.
“...I'm not from your world,” he told Mundar. “This is another realm. We call it PPC HQ.”
Mundar snorted.
“Heh. Pee pee...”
Vernet scowled.
“It’s short for Protectors of the Plot Continuum, and you’d do well to remember that,” he said. “... What world are you from?”
The dwarf lowered his axe and thought for a long moment, stroking his beard. It reminded Vernet of a rat’s nest.
“...Ery-whatsits,” he finally said.
/The little blighter doesn’t know the name of his own world?/
“One moment, please, Mr. Fivehills...” Vernet said, dryly. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pushed aside a Parcheesi board and a cheese grater, and pulled out his C.A.D. It looked like a cross between a ray gun and a tuning fork, and he was very proud of the fact that it hadn’t exploded once.
The Ironic Overpower took note of this fact.