Subject: We have front doors?
Author:
Posted on: 2009-02-24 09:57:00 UTC
That means there's an exit? What am I still doing here?
Welcome. There is no such thing as incompetence in the PPC. You can't leave a badfi...il the job is done. By that very definition all agents that come out of fic alive are competent.
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."
__________________________________________
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.
Okay, I know I have a long way to go before receiving the green light: I have read only a small part of the Original Series and I joined the forum only two days ago. But as I said, Agent Cal is very enthusiastic about his job. He has little patience and a short attention span, and he holds a very high opinion of himself and his capabilities. But in truth, it's mostly me who just can't wait before starting.
Since I don't have the authorization to post official PPC missions, consider this as nothing more than a practice, not an actual mission. Please tell me how to improve.
The following, an assassination operation, is based on this badfic. Only the first page is important.
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2165630/1/BlackRoseoftheSea
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Cal was busy putting wallpaper in his brand-new office in the PPC headquarters when the console on his desk emitted a strident BEEEEP. A badfic with a particularly blatant Mary Sue had just been detected in the Potterverse, as the young agent saw when he looked at the screen. (Technically, Cal was not yet an agent, but "Agent Cal" just sounded cool.)
He wondered what to do about it. He had joined the PPC no more than a few days ago and had only begun his training yesterday. He had not even read the full 300-page protocol and all the old mission reports, and though he understood the basics well enough, he was strictly forbidden from going on an operation (let alone a solo operation) until he was ready. If he went, he could get fired before even becoming an agent. On the other hand, everyone knew that nearly all secret agents, cops and detectives routinely had to act against their superiors' orders to solve a case or stop an atomic bomb. If Cal wanted to be taken seriously as a PPC agent, he was expected to Go Rogue at least once; the sooner the better.
Eagerly, he went to his wardrobe and put on his grey trenchcoat and fedora. Anyone with a fedora, be he a gangster, an investigator or an archaeologist, obviously meant business. In the huge mirror he had recently installed, Cal saw that he looked every bit the sexy badass he fancied himself as. But something was missing... Ah, yes, the eyepatch or sunglasses. Which looks the most hardcore? He tried both at the same time, but it was slightly uncomfortable (not to mention silly-looking). In the end he settled for the eyepatch: it suited much better to his pulp detective style. He would keep the sunglasses for Sundays, when he wore his MiB suit and tie.
With the console, Cal generated a portal to the Potterverse, where a Sue may already have started her vile work to destroy the fragile continuum of J. K. Rowling's fifth and best novel. According to the report, this Sue who went by the name of Marina Rose Black was the daughter of Voldemort and the adoptive heir of the Black family.
Stepping into the portal, Agent Cal emerged in a dusty and dimly-lit place that looked like the living room of an old house. He was alone here, and it appeared to be the middle of the night. On a wall was the family tree of the Blacks. He was at Grimmauld Place, then. There was probably no better place to meet someone who called herself the heir of the Black family. Cal tried to find the best spot in the room to hear and see what was going on.
Suddenly he felt something creep along his neck. With a muffled cry of disgust, he threw to the ground a small hairy creature with very sharp teeth that had somehow managed to get under the collar of his trenchcoat when he inadvertently got too close from the doxy-infested curtains. Nasty vermin: if he remembered correctly, doxys were venomous.
After a minute of silent waiting, he distinctly heard the front door of the house creak open not too far from there. The song-like voice of the Mary Sue resounded in the corridor:
"Baba! Kreacher! I'm home."
The old house elf and the painting of Sirius' mother responded immediately, greeting Marina Rose Black warmly. The fifteen-year-old Sue, coming back from her vacation at the beach, acted as if she owned the place — and indeed, she did. For some reason, none of the sleeping members of the Order of the Phoenix heard her noisy entrance. She went upstairs and remained out of Cal's earshot for a long while. All of a sudden, angry shouts came from the second floor: Sirius Black had finally met her, and they were having a heated argument about whose house this was. A few minutes later, Molly Weasley's voice was defending Sue against Sirius' understandable burst of rage. The shouts eventually ceased.
Some time later, Molly and Sirius walked down the stairs and entered the living room. The young PPC agent hid behind a couch, wearing his fedora very low as if it could make him harder to see. Marina soon came into the room and attempted to explain her presence here to the two canon characters. Before long, Albus Dumbledore's head conveniently appeared in the fireplace to tell Sirius and Molly that the house did indeed belong to Her Sueness. As Agent Cal crept closer, he heard the headmaster of Hogwarts say something that made him feel like he had just swallowed broken glass:
"...she will be the one who decides the end of the great war, it is all placed in her hands and I'd rather keep her here and safe before we have to allow her near the dark."
Cal almost groaned aloud. What is wrong with Harry, anyway, that makes suethors think he is unworthy to be the one who defeats Voldemort? Trembling with outrage, he waited for everyone to leave the room and go to sleep.
Half an hour later, the ancestral home of the Blacks was silent again. Moving like a shadow, Agent Cal went in search of Sue's bedroom. When he found it, he quietly closed the door behind him — there was enough moonlight to see everything. Marina Rose Black was sound asleep in her bed, her blue-black hair framing her somewhat Asian features. First step: master her, so he can tell her the list of her crimes against canon before dealing with her. Cal took off his fedora and pressed it on Sue's face to smother her. She thrashed wildly — that is, until the young agent sat on her body to keep her immobile. With a wince, he heard two of her ribs crack noisily under his weight. After a minute Marina stopped moving, unconscious.
Cal firmly tied the girl to her bed and stuffed a piece of cloth into her mouth to keep her silent. Then he woke her up by poking the broken ribs with a finger. The Mary Sue's eyes flew open to stare at him with surprise and terror.
"I'm Agent Cal," he said, taking on a menacing voice that was perhaps a little too theatrical, as he showed her his membership card of the Dungeons & Dragons club (he did not have his PPC card yet). "You must have heard of me?" The Sue shook her head. Cal was a bit disappointed. He went on solemnly: "In the name of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, I charge you with disrupting the canon, interfering with the character of Dumbledore and being a Mary Sue. As jury, judge and executioner, I declare you guilty and hereby sentence you to death. Execution is to take place immediately."
Cal's gloved hand slipped into one of the bottomless pockets of his trenchcoat.
"I have good news and bad news. The good news is that, as a typical pulp hero, I can't hit a girl." His tone then became apologetic: "The bad news is that I am quite resourceful."
He pulled from his pocket four large doxys he had found in the curtains. While the Mary Sue writhed helplessly against her bonds, he put one doxy on her face, one on her throat, one on her chest and one under her pants. With clinical detachment, he watched her squirm and emit muffled cries for nearly ten minutes before she finally succumbed to over thirty vicious bites on every part of her body. Her dead eyes stared at the ceiling in mute horror.
Satisfied, Cal untied the twisted corpse and dragged it to the kitchen downstairs. With some difficulty, he somehow succeeded in stuffing it into the pantry, though he had to make extensive use of the bone saw lying on the table. Since Marina did not have much meat on her, Kreacher would probably manage to get rid of her body in only a few stews or roasts. His task done, Agent Cal opened another portal and quit the now much cleaner Potterverse.
.
Though, with staff shortages as they are (compared to badfic; there seem to be more agents than last year) I doubt someone would get kicked out of the PPC for taking on a mission before getting their membership card.
Or patch.
Be sure to leave your sanity at the door and welcome to the PPC. :)
I like your intro. Quite creative. And Cal promises to be a pretty amusing Agent.
Anyway, greetings. *tips her Hat* I'm Lycaenion, commonly found practising my evil laughter, torturing people with useless zoology or Star Trek information, or forming weird conspiracy theories.
I do hereby give you chocolate, an easily concealable weapon of your choice, and a towel. You'll probably need all of them.
(Oh, and for more completely useless information, I've been studying French in school for the past four years. The fact that you're a native speaker is rather awesome in my opinion.)
"Should he be based in a TARDIS or a Response Center?" asked the receptionist to the daisy.
First, allow me to put on my beta hat and pull some faces.
Well, actually only one face, but ah well. Every time you've had someone's actions and then their words, you've separated by a line, rather than the usual two. This really isn't necessary. The speech doesn't have to be on a new line as soon as it starts, so long as it's on a separate line to the previous speaker's.
*throws beta hat aside*
Greetings!
Will we be seeing you in the DBS at all? We're always looking for new recruits who can handle the squick. Either way, welcome. We could have really used you about six months ago, you know.
Oh yeah, that, er, gift thing. *hands over cheap and nasty bottle of wine* Enjoy!
"Will we be seeing you in the DBS at all? We're always looking for new recruits who can handle the squick."
I've survived (if barely) the unspeakable abomination called C***b***n, but I don't think I will gladly renew such a mind-scarring experience. I'll decide after I've read a few DBS mission reports; maybe it's fun.
Thanks for the bottle of wine, it makes an excellent blunt weapon. I'll put it to good use.
By now, Cal was surrounded by a small crowd of people, who all seemed rather happy to see him. Some of them, however, were making the expressions of dismay common to those who have encountered a short person with bony elbows and a vicious mindset. Mad Maudlin (for it was indeed she) pushed Makari aside and stood in front of Cal, looking him up and down- although the heavy eyeliner made it hard to tell exactly where she was looking. She grinned slowly. "Nice hat. Welcome...to the PPC!" This was accompanied by a menacing laugh. She continued, "I'm Maudlin Hart, although you can call me Mad Maudlin, or just Maudlin. Anything else will result in pain. Please, deposit your sanity in the provided bucket; I assure you it will not be needed here."
Cal looked at the bucket. It was blue, and the words "Warg Fodder" were written on the side. He could understand why this person was called mad. "I-"
"DID I TELL YOU TO SPEAK?" Maudlin shrieked. "I don't think so! But you can speak anyway. And here is some chai tea, and here is a shiny crystal thing, and here is some Suenicorn jerky, and they are all for you!" She handed Cal these items, then bowed low and disappeared into the crowd.
What a strange person, Cal thought.
Cal stuffed the various gifts in the bottomless pockets of his trenchcoat. He turned his attention to the bucket, and for a moment he wondered how the heck he was supposed to deposit his sanity in it. After some thought, he realized that wondering this was a sure sign that he was still sane, and thus that he needed to get rid of his sanity — a thing he did not know how to do. But conversely, if he understood just HOW to do it, then he would certainly be insane — but then he would not need to deposit his sanity in the bucket. Thus, he was faced with a paradox. But, if he were insane, he could choose to ignore the paradox and deposit his sanity in the bucket ANYWAY. This led to a second paradox, since he was not insane and as a result did not know how to get over paradoxes. But if he were insane...
*Bzzzrt*
A few millions of his neurons suddenly went dead under the strain. When Cal regained his senses after a brief blackout, he found that he now understood how to deposit his sanity in the bucket, and promptly did. There was not a lot of it — the Wargs would still be hungry. But there would always be plenty of Mary Sues for them to eat.
(seriously, though, good job finding the front door. Good luck locating it again, though...)
As for the traditional welcoming gift, here, have this umbrella. It, er, may be a little sharp on the end. But that's okay, right? Better to stab things with.
And I'm sure plenty of us would be more than happy to beta read or whatnot. It's a good practice anyway. =)
So yeah. Good to meetcha. I'm me; I mostly go after video games and anime, so we probably shan't encounter each other much outside of the Board. Still, best of luck~!
(especially with Harry Potter, sweet Lorelei! the majority of the 'fics on the Pit make me want to claw eyes out. Not particular as to whose.)
Welcome to the PPC.
Good luck with your fandoms. Hopefully you can serve them well.
Oh, by the way, have you heard of Rose Potter? Its a Harry Potter Bad fic.
Anyway, have some bleeprin and a spork. Sporks are cool.
You'll need it when you meet Lux. Or random fangirls.
I'm Oozaru Angel, technically I'm a PPC writer too but, seeing as I haven't completed a mission in more than two years, nowadays I'm more known for writing fanfiction in the anime fandoms and as one of the course coordinators for the Official Fanfiction University for Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (or simply OFUTRC). Call me Angel, Oozaru or simply OA.
It's nice to meet you! I hope you have fun here.
Have a prinny suit. This particular one was, strangely enough, dressed in a trench coat and fedora, so it should suit you just fine. These generally grant an increase in miscellaneous RPG-related stats and an uncontrollable urge to tack 'dood' to the end of every sentence. Oh, and being thrown while wearing one is usually quite painful. Explosively painful.
That means there's an exit? What am I still doing here?
Welcome. There is no such thing as incompetence in the PPC. You can't leave a badfi...il the job is done. By that very definition all agents that come out of fic alive are competent.
the door has disapeared and is now probably in a totally different location? And the second we turn our back the receptionist will also have disapeared and people will give us funny looks when we ask what happened to her? Because you have no idea where you are at this very second in time and you're pretty sure the eyes of that painting on the wall are following you?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
And the pseudo-Marty Sam gets the wind knocked out of his sails...by the receptionist. Very clever.
*is thoroughly amused by your introduction text*
We've got a Department of Personnel rather than a HR Office, but that's just technical nit-picking.
Anyways, welcome to the insanity. You look like you'll fit right in.
*gives Gabriel a PPC bumper sticker*
You'll need it to catch up on your sleep in random places.
Welcome! *shakes hand* Always good to see new people, particularly enthusiastic ones. I obviously don't need to give you any links, but may I suggest you read the wiki's "Permission" article, if you haven't already? Saves a lot of confusion.
That said... well, actually, I haven't much more to say. I like your little intro there, and Cal sounds like he'd be quite a lot of fun to read, particularly when his bravado fails to kill the Sue (or whatever sort of mission you're planning to do).
So yes, welcome! Thanks for coming. :)
Welcome to the PPC! I'll let July give you links to the wiki and whatnot, as that's her thing, but in the meantime have an egg whisk! It's shiny, gold-plated, and whisks not only eggs but spambots and author wraiths! Use it for good and not evil.
Heh, thank you for the whisk, and yay for randomness. I already have the link to the wiki, by the way: it's by the PPC wiki that I accessed this forum. And I found PPC by the TV Tropes Wiki (I've been a hopeless TV Tropes junkie for quite a while now, though I'm not a troper).