It's about time.

Standard disclaimers apply: the PPC is the brainchild of Jay and Acacia. StarCraft belongs to Blizzard Entertainment.

Want more (Un)Intelligence? Read it here.

I'd like to thank Lily Winterwood and the Irish Samurai for beta-reading this piece.

Enjoy!

Episode 4

The double doors to the Department of Intelligence’s Hub burst open and let out a stream of tired Green team agents. They poured into the hallway, split up into groups, and made their way to their usual after-work hangouts.

Five agents managed to untangle themselves from the sea of black-clothed figures. Angus and Yakov ducked out of the crowd, followed by Nasir, Gaspard, and Luisa. They gathered in a circle a bit further down the hall.

“So,” said Angus, patting his bulging stomach. “I’m hungry. What do you all say to supper in New Cal? There’s this new Italian place--“

“Yew’re always hungry, Gus,” quipped Yakov. “Every time yew say that, yer credibility plummets. Is there a time where yer not thinkin’ of food?”

“Only when I’m sleeping,” replied Angus. “As I was saying, supper in New Caledonia at La Trattoria. Who’s in?”

“Sure, I could go for Italian,” said Luisa. “Anyone got a copy of the menu or something? I think it was featured in this week’s Wire Tap.”

Nasir pulled a folded-up newspaper clipping from a pocket. “Here it is. They’ve got a large pasta selection, some meat and seafood, and two or three pizzas. I think I’ll go for the fish of the day,” he said, passing the paper to Luisa.

Yakov and Angus drifted behind Luisa, looking over her shoulders at the menu and making comments on what looked good. Nasir looked at Gaspard, who hadn’t moved. “What’s up, Gaspard? Not in the mood for eating out?”

The junior agent waved his hands. “No, no. I’d love to go out, but there’s a meeting of the StarCraft club soon…”

There was a pregnant pause. Angus looked around and said: “Er, you know, maybe it would be a good idea to maybe just take a break from the club, bud. Go outside, do something else for a change.”

“With all due respect sir, it’s the club’s one-year anniversary. As the club founder, I would like to attend the event,” said Gaspard.

There was another uncomfortable silence. Nasir spoke up: “Oh for Heaven’s sake, you know how I stand on the matter but I’ll say it again--”

Luisa gave a Look at Nasir, who suddenly decided that a change in attitude was for the better. “No, forget it. Go on with what you have planned,” he said.

Gaspard rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s just that this is very important to me, so... er... I don’t want to be too much of a burden on you all, so I think just be going now. See you tomorrow!”

As the junior agent walked away, his four colleagues turned to look at each other.

“Why?” asked Nasir. “Just... why? Doesn’t he know?”

“Dunno,” said Yakov, still looking at La Trattoria’s menu. “Whatever floats his boat I guess. Hey, there’s an extra-large four-cheese pizza on the menu! Anyone want to split it?”

- - -

Gaspard shuffled into the computer lab, carrying a rolled-up banner under one arm and a lunch box under the other. “Sorry I’m late,” he announced as he made his way to the elevated area at back of the room. He put down his lunch bag at the single computer desk on the stage. He unfurled the banner, a simple white rectangular thing with the words “DoI StarCraft Club, 1-year anniversary” painted on it in black. The Spy put the banner up on the wall using duct tape and turned to face the rest of the room.

“I don’t know whether I should make a speech or not,” he admitted, walking back and forth on the stage and gazing at the rows of computer monitors in front of him. “I mean, if it’s all right… ah, what the heck. Welcome all to the one-year anniversary of the DoI’s StarCraft club! I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.

“As the founding member of this club, it’s been a real pleasure watching overall performance improve over time. Everyone’s gotten out of wood league and into bronze, at least,” he laughed, but stopped when no one laughed back. It was okay. Nobody would mind. “Oh, forget it. What I meant to say was that there’s still a lot of room for improvement but we’ve got some upward momentum. Hang on to it!

“That being said, it’s no secret that the terran race has an overwhelming representation in this club. Maybe consider switching to zerg or protoss to spice it up. Personally, I’m thinking of switching races to ‘toss. I’ve always preferred unit micro over economy macro anyways. As for zerg… well, you’ve got to be able to macro like a pro and expand early. Oh yes, and remember to spread the Creep carpet. That’s the key to victory.”

Gaspard scanned the room. “I know we’re not a big club, but I’d like to be able to participate in the Major League Gaming tournament this winter. If we could maybe round up another two or three people and introduce some variety in the race representation, we’d stand a chance during the qualification round. I’ve seen firsthand what the DMS StarCraft team can do and, without wanting to sound conceited, I think we can easily take them on. I mean, there are only so many times you can lose to cheese tactics before you can’t be taken seriously.”

The junior agent continued to pace back and forth across the stage. “Two or three people. Have I been doing enough? I mean, I’ve been advertising the club ever since I’ve started it, so it can’t really be something on my end... D’you think it might just be a lack of interest overall?” More silence. Gaspard smiled. Yes, it was probably a lack of interest.

“Anyways, I wish you all good luck and have fun during this meet.”

And so Gaspard returned to his desk, started up the game, and celebrated the one-year existence of his club with three straight hours of competitive multiplayer on the HQ servers.

The entire affair might not have been so sad if he wasn’t the only member of the club.