Subject: Newcomer
Author:
Posted on: 2009-02-24 03:02:00 UTC

In a thunderous crash, the front doors of the PPC headquarters flung open. The receptionist looked up. A rain-soaked young man had just made an overdramatic entrance and was now theatrically striding toward her across the lobby. He wore a grey trenchcoat too large for his light frame and an old fedora hat of the same color. A black eyepatch covered the wannabe pulp detective's right eye.

"Welcome to the PPC," the receptionist said absently, typing at her computer.

"I wish to speak with someone high up," said the newcomer in a tone that was presumably intended to be commanding.

Needless to say, the receptionist was unimpressed.
"You'll speak with me, kid," she replied acidly. "What are you here for?"

The man was taken aback, but quickly regained some of his composure.
"Do the Protectors hire? I believe I may be your man," he stated self-importantly.

"Mmm'kay. What's your name?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." He sounded smug.

The receptionist rolled her eyes, grabbed her phone and dialed a number.
"Security? Could you please escort some asshole out of the lobby?"

"Ooookay, I'll show you," the man said hurriedly. "Here's my ID." He handed her his Canadian health insurance card.

"Security, you still there? Forget it, that'll be alright," the receptionist said in the speaker. She took the man's card and examined it. A smirk formed on her lips. "THAT's your name? Calvin Percival Baudette?"

"Shhh, not so loud," the young man whispered, wincing. "I prefer to be called Cal."

"...Yeah, that's... understandable," she agreed, visibly making tremendous efforts not to laugh. "So what's your background and experience, Cal?"

Cal made a halfway decent attempt at a cold, businesslike tone.
"I've served for six years in the FBI, two years in the CIA and one very long day at CTU Los Angeles. I've been decorated for my involvement in the Gulf War, where I led a squadron of six F-16's. I have a degree in computer science and another in engineering, and I—"

"According to your ID, you're only twenty," she interrupted.

"...Oh yeah, that. Ah, um... Well, it's a long story but—"

She rapped impatiently on her desk.
"Just say it. No experience?"

"No experience," Cal confessed reluctantly. "But I'm adaptable, I promise."

The receptionist's gaze went to the man's eyepatch.
"List your disabilities," she said.

"I have no disa— oh, the eyepatch? I don't need it, really, both my eyes are fine. But it DOES make me look totally badass, don't you think?" He removed it and stuffed it in one of his pockets.

"Fill out these forms," the receptionist said with mild annoyance, handing Cal a thick pile of variously colored papers. "Then bring them to the human resources office, if you can find it. They're so desperate for personnel that even you might stand a chance of getting hired."


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Hey all. My name is Gabriel (age 20), and I live in Canada (province of Québec). I recently discovered the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, and to me it already looks awesome — I love metafiction. As I type this I have read only four stories out of the Original Series' twenty-five, but I already get the idea and I cannot wait to begin. I hope to be able to write my own missions in a few weeks at the most. For this I have created Agent Cal, an incompetent and overenthusiastic young agent who takes himself VERY seriously (maybe I will give him a sidekick later). I will operate mainly in Middle-Earth, the Potterverse and the Caribbean, since those three settings are plagued by mind-boggling amounts of badfic and an infestation of Mary Sues, but I will not limit myself to those if I find a bad enough fic in another fandom with which I am familiar.

Feedback on my writing would be greatly appreciated: I do not want to disgrace the great work started by Jay and Acacia. Note however that my English is not perfect (my first language is French), so be tolerant.

Thank you.

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