Subject: (And then...)
Author:
Posted on: 2013-04-10 19:03:00 UTC
Is it the Escher room? If it is, Godspeed my fellow Minecrafter. Just even trying to plan out how to represent it in cube format is dizzying.
...or maybe it's the Courtyard? Or Upstairs except in the Nether... Or the Cafeteria...
To: [DoDAEG]
From: [sturbo.console124204wc759525.rc1597.SOD]
Subject: Current power outage
What's going on? The only thing electrical still working here is the console, and it's acting up weird too. I tried to contact DoSAT too, but I'm not getting any response.
Need answer ASAP. Corolla's already freaking out and, if you don't happen to know that, SHE'S MADE OF TECHNOLOGY TOO.
Also, we're running out of batteries for the torches too.
Agetn Sergio Turbo, Deparment of Floaters, Special Operations Division, Response Center 1587
((Alternate title, My hospitality, let me show you it))
"Fair point," said Gaspard, "but I don't think I'll ever get tired of the beach."
He checked his wristwatch, then his RA. It was still unresponsive. "Cor, I'm going to be late for dinner again. My mother is going to kill me."
"I'm sure she'll understand. HQ is full of weirdness. Besides, with the way this place works, you could end up getting there fifteen minutes early," Lee told him. "If she does try anything homicidal, just give her our RC number. We'll back you up."
Ian nodded, draining the last of his tea. "I suppose we could always try finding our RC again," he mused, "since we're back in the more familiar parts of HQ now, anyways."
"Nah, it's okay. It just means I'll probably end up doing the dishes tonight," said Gaspard to Lee.
He turned to Ian. "If you're going to venture out there while it's still dark, you should at least take these." The spy rooted around in his Pouch and pulled out a stack of Minecraft torches. "There you go, sir. Sixty-four sources of infinite light. Use them wisely!"
After handing the torches to Ian, Gaspard sat back down on the bench. "You two go on ahead, I'll stay right here. I'm not going anywhere until the lights come back on. Oh, and if you feel like chatting again, feel free to drop by RC 22. We Infrastructure agents have regular work shifts, so my evenings are usually off."
"Thanks," Ian said, taking the torches. "These'll definitely come in handy, especially on missions. I think it'd be better to wait out the blackout here, though. At least this place has real sunlight-- I think. Anyways, it's better than other places we could be."
"Aye then," said Gaspard. "I can understand that. Besides, who wouldn't want to stare at this scenery all day long... hey, over there! What's that?"
Far off in the distance, right next to the river, a man dressed in black erupted from the ground. He rocketed skywards, limbs flailing and all, then fell and landed belly-first into the water with a slapping sound audible all the way from the oak hill. Out from that same hole in the ground swarmed a pack of MLP-verse Timberwolves. The animals gathered around the river, watched the man stagger out of it on the opposite bank, then started to spread up and down stream, searching for a way to cross.
"Oh, that's just fantastic," grumbled Gaspard, who was already halfway up the oak. "I'm not getting paid enough for this."
Ian and Lee exchanged glances and then Lee summoned her magic. She focused, the red-gold magic swirling until it suddenly coalesced into several pans with rubber-coated handles.
"Grab some and start making noise," she said. Ian did so, clanging the two lightweight pans together, walking slowly but steadily towards the Timberwolves. Lee kept her magic at the ready, just in case any one of the 'wolves decided to ignore the noise and attack.
Meanwhile, from his perch in the tree, Gaspard watched the man on the opposite shore through a pair of binoculars. Recognizing the figure almost immediately, he stowed his binoculars and put two fingers on his earpiece.
"Agent Frost! Hey, Harris! Were there any more Timberwolves following you?"
Harris reeled in shock at the sudden voice in his ear and turned to look at the scene on the other side of the river. "No," he panted. "That's all of them. Why isn't the RA working? I've been chased by the things all around the Everfree! HQ was cut off or something, I don't know!" Harris' knees gave away and he fell into a sitting position. "I goofed again, didn't I?"
The lights in the Generic Hallway went out one by one.
Gaspard, who was on his way home, stopped and peered into the distance. Following the time-honoured horror trope, the lights in the back shut themselves off first, then the ones closer to him, and closer, and closer until a curtain of darkness was sweeping forward.
The spy dove his hands into his Adventure Pouch and pulled a stack of Minecraft torches from it. He stabbed them into the wall and ground surrounding him, creating a little island of light in the now pitch-dark corridor. He plastered himself against the wall and fumbled in his Pouch for his RA. The agent knew where this was going: this was a classic horror setup. He wasn’t going to become one of those stupid genre-blind victims who would blunder off into the dark with only a flashlight and calling out for monsters to eat them. No, he was going to portal to somewhere nice and sunny until Maintenance fixed whatever was going on here. His eye twitched. Hang on a moment: didn’t a power outage in the past lead to some sort of big Emergency or the other?
Time to go, then.
Gaspard pulled out the calculator-like device and frantically keyed in a code for a little beach in Cuba. The RA beeped and displayed an error message: [Error. Portal generator inactive. Contact DoSAT for assistance.]
“Fantastic,” he grumbled, stowing the RA. “Stuck in HQ with the power out. Damn, damn, damn. Next plan, then.”
He pulled his DORKS from his Pouch and set the code for a HEV suit. Retreat to the RC, light everything up with torches, wait it out. Yes. That was good. Small space, easily defendable, choke point. Booby-trap the door, set up motion sensors.
The Kostume System, currently disguised as a packet of instant noodles, flared to life with a sci-fi twanging noise. Seconds later, a heavily armoured Gaspard was shuffling forward down the corridor, placing torches on the wall as he went. If he was going to be blundering around in the dark, he was going to do it silently and wearing several centimetres of energy-shielded bulletproof material.
"Listen, if I knew what was going on, Ian, we wouldn't be stumbling 'round in the dark, now would we?"
"Well, no, but seriously, how the hell can all the lights go out at once?"
There was a soft snort and then a heavily implied shrug from the first speaker. "It's HQ. Logic is kind of non-existent here," she said. "Look, hold still for a second." There was rustling and then the soft glow of magical lights that began to hover about five feet high in the air. "Much better. Grandad Nate taught me how to make these."
"Nice, Lee," Ian said approvingly, poking gently at one of the floating cubes of clear crystal; there were six in total, and each glowed with a soft blue-white inner light.
"Hey, wait a minute... Are those torches?"
Gaspard ducked into a nearby RC's doorway. He was sure that someone was making sound back there. A lesson he learnt from long hours of spelunking in Minecraft was that, in a cave, any noise that wasn't water preceded a Very Bad Thing (and the complete absence of sound was a surefire sign that a Creeper was about to explode behind you).
He pulled a mirror from his Pouch and angled it so that he could look down the hallway. Two figures were standing at the end of the corridor and were busy looking at the line of torches he had placed on the wall. Oh. Good. Agents. Friendlies. False alarm. Good. Must stop being paranoid. Yes. Healthier that way. Hm.
It was then he noticed the texture of the doorway: Minecraft stone. There was a vein of coal in the wall opposite him. The light fixtures above were actually redstone-powered lamps. This section of HQ was in a cave.
A dark cave. Dark as in "could spawn monsters" dark.
A split second after his realization, a what looked like a four-legged pixel-camo-patterned cactus slithered silently out of the darkness, headed straight for the agent.
"CREEPER! RUN!" shrieked Gaspard has he tore back up the corridor with the monster in slow but steady pursuit.
- - -
I should build a replica of HQ in Minecraft.
SeaTurtle
... I've already got a decent chunk of a Minecraft-HQ going. It's kind of fun. I've already done a corridor on it's side - next up I think is a corridor where both ends lead to the same place.
And then... ah, but that would be telling.
hS
Is it the Escher room? If it is, Godspeed my fellow Minecrafter. Just even trying to plan out how to represent it in cube format is dizzying.
...or maybe it's the Courtyard? Or Upstairs except in the Nether... Or the Cafeteria...
I actually haven't gotten the spatial-loop corridor to work yet - the portal out of the Nether ended up in another corridor entirely.
But the 'and then' is my plan for after it's finished. I figure if we can make HQ in Minecraft, we can make it in Sims 3... and in Dwarf Fortress... and in lego... and what if lots of people made their own little pieces and filmed them, and then we spliced the films together...?
I'll be making a two-piece video once I've got the Minecraft version pinned down. I'll see how it works.
(That said: I'm really tempted to make the Escher Room, with the Armoury off it. And the Courtyard, but underground, with a lapis sky...)
Actually actually: how would the ER even work? If I made a handful of adjacent portals in the Nether, I could have rapid transit on that side between different sides of the ER. Then I could stick 'doors' on the floor and ceiling... I don't know, though. Hrm.
hS
"These look like Minecraft torches," Ian was saying.
"Handy. We'll have to pick up some of these when--" Lee broke off when she heard Gaspard's cry of alarm, turning on the spot. "Wait, what?"
Ian, having caught on more rapidly than his partner (she'd never played Minecraft; Ian was a regular on the patchwork in-house server someone had managed to set up), grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled. The lights followed them, illuminating their way. "Move move move, he yelped, starting to run. "If there's one there's almost always more. Or a spider, a skeleton, a zombie... Just... Run."
"Can we kill it?" Lee asked, easily falling into the steady ground-eating lope she'd learned in her days as a police-mage; she could keep it up for quite some time, given her naturally high stamina. "I could hit it with some magic. Would that work?"
"I don't know," Ian panted. "It might just make it worse. Wait, here-" He pulled her into a short branching hallway, shoving her down it before heading back to the entrance and waiting, poised to grab Gaspard as soon as he passed. While he did that, Lee noticed that the walls were made of an odd pale stone that looked almost like cobblestone, marked and pitted. Well, if cobblestone was roughly the shade of eggshells and twice as hard
...as he careened forward, checking doorways for anything that might spring out from an empty RC. The creeper had gone, disappearing off into an RC with an open door. That didn't make the agent more comfortable: there was always one more you didn't see. A skeleton in the corner, a zombie horde that falls through a seemingly empty shaft, a spider on the ceiling...
A spider on the ceiling. Look up!
Gaspard sidestepped but was not fast enough to prevent a huge black spider from dropping directly on his head. The monster flailed about, trying to sink its hairy fangs something soft. Luckily for Gaspard, he was hearing a HEV suit. Unfortunately for him, it didn't come with a helmet. The spy raised his arms to protect his face, and saw a tall man further up ahead guide his partner around a corner and turn to face him.
"Get it off!" yelled Gaspard, stumbling forward the agent with the spider scrabbling all over his head.
Just about then, the creeper popped out of an adjacent doorway and started hissing like a fuse. As Gaspard's momentum carried him past the explosive monster, the only word he could manage was: "Really?"
Light.
Flight.
Air whistling past. Sound, lots of it. Spider still clamped on his face like the world's ugliest and most murderous hat.
Touchdown. Bounce off the ground, spider absorbing a good deal of the impact. It came off, hopefully dead.
Second impact. Something cracked. Gaspard hoped it was just the HEV. Slid face down. Friction against his cheek.
Everything stopped moving.
From where he was lying, Gaspard could make out a white wall with a dimpled texture. End Stone. How unusual. Did he explode so hard he got blasted into another dimension? There was a woman staring at him. Did she explode too? The agent rolled onto his back and beheld Agent Ian.
"Excuse me sir," Gaspard wheezed. "Do you have a medkit to spare?"
"Here, I can help," Lee said, stepping forward. She gathered her magic to her, laying one hand flat on the End Stone that made up the floor and the other gently against Gaspard's forehead. Lee directed the healing magic through the spy, allowing the cool sensation to flow from the stone, through her, and into Gaspard, searching out any wounds and hopefully mending them.
Meanwhile, Ian went to investigate the spider, checking to see if it was, in fact, truly dead. He nudged the hairy body with one reenforced toe of his boot, jumping back when it twitched, its mandibles clicking weakly. Instantly, Ian jumped into action, pulling a cue from Isaac Clarke of Dead Space fame and stomping heavily on the spider's head. Several times. With a lot of force.
Once he was satisfied that the spider was, in fact dead (the body fading, leaving only a squishy looking red eye, was a pretty good sign), Ian turned his attention back to Lee and Gaspard. Lee had sat back, hands folded in her lap, as she observed Gaspard. The End Stone where she'd placed her hand was cracked and faded, an odd occurrence, given the stone's natural high durability.
...flexing his all of his joints and working his jaw as he did so.
"Good as new. Perfect. HEV's intact but out of shielding. Can't be helped," he muttered to himself. He turned to Lee. "Many thanks, ma'am," flashing her a smile.
The spy stood up, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "Okay. So, monsters in the halls. Note to self, complain to Upstairs for ignoring a source of infinite light in favour of the technologically vulnerable redstone lamp. Right. The lights are still out and I'm not liking this horror movie senario that playing out here. Where do we go from here?"
Gaspard looked at the two Assassins again. "Er, sorry, but haven't I seen you two before? You look terribly familiar..."
Lee nodded, getting to her feet. "Lee Keaton, DMS. This is my partner, Ian Nahinu," she said. "It's entirely possible you've seen us before."
"Pleasure to meet you again, anyways," Ian continued on. "I didn't think any part of HQ connected to the Minecraft 'Verse. Then again, we do have an Enderman on the staff in the Cafeteria, so it doesn't surprise me. As for where we should go, I don't know. We were going to head back to our RC, but we've been walking for at least a half hour and no dice."
"You'd think having the lights out and not knowing where we are would help matters," Lee said dryly. "We might as well find an empty RC and hole up there until they get the lights working again. At least we'll have some form of light, what with your torches and my crystals."
Dawn was quite happily watching the latest episode of Supernatural and ignoring the world, while Kelaborn and Gladladriel crunch-sizzled eggs in the middle of RC 18 and the tribble (still unnamed; she would have to think of something) trilled softly on its shelf. She hadn't noticed the black-out, and the screams coming from outside her door (left open through the will of the Ironic Overpower) blended perfectly into the soundtrack of screaming demons on the console's screen. She didn't even notice when the two mini-Balrogs straightened defensively and the tribble stopped trilling and started to shake. She did notice when a stack of books crash-thudded to the floor, though.
"Hey!" she said, hitting the pause button and turning around. "Knock it o--"
There are really very few courses of action when coming face to...more or less face with a hissing, grey-green, vaguely humanoid thing, and Dawn took the one that didn't involve the sharp weapons that weren't within her reach: she screamed, and frantically slapped at the console's buttons, creating a portal.
Unfortunately, the portal that opened was positioned directly in front of the console's screen; and instead of Dawn being able to grab the tribble and retreat through it, followed by the roaring mini-Balrogs, the portal flickered and disgorged two Hunters, a demon, and an angel of the Lord.
That is to say, they fell on Dawn.
Dawn was silent, due to having the breath rather forcibly knocked from her lungs. The tribble...stared, presumably. The mini-Balrogs stole quick glances backwards, assessed the threat level, recognized canon characters, and turned their attention back to the creature that had invaded their RC. Even the creature paused in its hissing, startled by the four suddenly-appearing people.
Sam looked up first. "Crap! Dean--"
Dean winced, and tried to shove Castiel off him. The angel went, looking rather puzzled. Then Dean looked up.
"What the--"
Meg got to her feet and tugged her jacket straight. "Well, this is nice and geeky," she said, and shifted backwards. "Guys? I think maybe we should run."
Finally free of all the unexpected people on her back, Dawn coughed and struggled to her feet. Wavering, she looked round at her accidental visitors (and nearly fell over doing so), and then swayed back around to look at the creature. "What are you and what are you doing in my RC?" she asked hoarsely.
The creature hissed. The minis hissed back. The creature contemplated them curiously.
"Uh," Sam said. "If that's what I think it is...we should probably get out of here."
"Why, what will it do?" Castiel asked.
Sam coughed. "Explode," he replied, and tried to ignore Dean's look.
"Seriously?" Dean said. "Could you be any more of a geek?"
"Hey. Canon characters. Quiet. You, exploding hissy thing--get out of my RC!"
The 'exploding hissy thing' shuffled closer, and hissed louder.
"Oh no," Sam said, and three of the four canon characters backed up. Cas remained where he was, contemplating the creature. "It's going to--"
--Meanwhile, back at the Board...--
DawnFire was writing a note, in parentheses. [I don't actually know anything about Minecraft,] it read, [beyond what I just read on the Minecraft wiki. But you did mention an open RC, so...I had to. Really.]
She paused, thinking, and then added, [Dawn's going to kill me for this, by the way. If she isn't too distracted by the canon characters, that is. I'll have to do a lot of groveling if her RC gets exploded, though. That won't be fun.] She paused, and thought some more, then sighed. "I suppose I'd better not let her RC get exploded, then..." She sighed again, laid her fingers on the keyboard, and began to type.
--
((Yup, I know nothing about Minecraft. And no, I couldn't resist. And also, I haven't actually finished watching "Goodbye Stranger", so please, no one spoil it for me.
((And yes, I've just smashed the fourth wall to smithereens and stomped on it. Call me the chronicler of the agents and myself, I guess.
((...that's confusing...ouch. Oh well. It works surprisingly well, so I can deal with a few mental summersaults.))
~DawnFire
[It got longer. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not really.]
[Also, this installment contains some mild spoilers for Supernatural, mainly about Castiel and pieces of seasons 7 and 8. You have been warned.]
[And, with that said...]
The Road So Far
Dawn was watching Supernatural when a creeper entered her RC. After being made aware of its presence, she frantically opened a portal, which malfunctioned and brought Sam, Dean, Cas, and Meg through into PPC HQ. Sam recognized the creeper as, well, a creeper...
"Oh no," Sam said, and three of the four canon characters backed up. Cas remained where he was, contemplating the creature. "It's going to--"
Now
DawnFire's fingers tapped frantically on her laptop's keys. She had just finished reading the replies to her first post, and had managed to come up with a desperate idea. Now she only had to put it into practice...
PPC HQ: RC 18
"Cats," Castiel said thoughtfully, and the plotholes opened.
"Good," DawnFire mumbled. "I'm so sorry for taking advantage of that canonical fact that you can have a conversation without seeming to leave, but it had to be done." She paused, considering this. "Oh, great. I'm the villain. Or at least a misguided protagonist. Wonderful."
Sam, Dean, Meg, and Dawn shifted backwards, startled by the sudden change in the RC's inhabitants. Castiel, of course, barely blinked, staring at the creeper.
"RUMBLEROAR!" snarled a huge lion with an old man riding on its back. Beside Rumbleroar, several animated lions stared at their suddenly changed surroundings, and quickly checked to make sure their cubs were unharmed. A twelve-year-old Hermione Granger screamed, and tried desperately to cover her currently cat-like face once she realized there were people around. Castiel stood still, smiling slightly, as more and more cats of all shapes, sizes, and breeds slipped through the plotholes. Nanny Ogg's Greebo hissed, spotted the mini-Balrogs, and hissed louder. Morwen's cats stared meaningfully at the creeper, which was frantically swiveling its head back and forth, trying to keep all the cats in view. Bagheera padded through another plothole, and was rather startled to find the jungle gone. The cat Castiel had once interrogated made its appearance, glaring at the angel. The Doctor, currently in another part of PPC HQ dealing with a Weeping Angel, would have been interested to know that several cat-nuns and the cat he had talked to in Craig's flat had just made their appearance in RC 18, a number of corridors and several dimensions away.
Speaking of RC 18, it was getting quite crowded. In fact, the only open space was swiftly becoming a direct path to the open door.
The creeper shivered. Its blocky head swiveled from side to side, from cat to cat. The smaller cats scared it; the cat-nuns and Hermione terrified it. The larger cats were enough to send it running for the hills of New Caledonia. And that was before Benvenuto and Vittoria scrambled through another plothole and hissed at it.
Faced with the boss cats of the Casas Montana and Petrocchi, who had chased the White Devil from Caprona, as well as all the other cats of assorted breeds and sizes, the creeper stopped hissing, turned, and ran. Most of the cats ran after it, yowling, hissing, spitting, snarling, and roaring. Rumbleroar's cry rose above the others, accompanied by Dumbledore yelling, "After it! After it! We're gonna get that green thing and drown it in the Hogwarts swimming pool!"
"Alright," Dawn said, once the chaos had cleared enough for her to be heard. "What was that thing?"
"Uh, a creeper," Sam replied. "It's...from Minecraft--"
"Dude, you are such a nerd," Dean said, and sat down in Dawn's chair. "Where are we, anyway?"
"No idea, but I'd like to leave," Meg said. Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Then Sam thought of something, and frowned.
"Cas, how'd you know creepers are afraid of cats?" He paused, considering his last sentence, and shook his head. "Our lives are so weird. What's next, Daleks?"
"Several of our best agents are Daleks," Dawn said absentmindedly. "Uh, Cas? Castiel? Are you, um, planning on moving any time soon?"
"W-what's going on?" Hermione quavered. "I--what is this place? How did I get here?"
"Did you just say some of your best agents are Daleks?" Sam asked. "Wait, what type of agents are we talking about? There's no way this is a police force--"
"Cas?" Dean got up and walked over to the angel. "Hey, man, you alright?"
Castiel turned, and grinned broadly. "Well, maybe. I think so. Did you see all those cats? I mean, not all of them were cats, but they could have been. I was thinking, actually, what makes a cat? I mean, was the creeper afraid of the tail, or the whiskers? Or was it the fur? I mean, I don't find fur very scary, but then again, I'm an angel. Do you find fur scary, Dean?" He stared at the human, head tilted to one side, blue eyes intent and that same, awful, un-Cas-like smile on his face.
"Oh, no," Meg said. "Here we go again."
Dean stared. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Of course," said the angel, "if it's the fur they're afraid of, then a dog should scare them just as much as a cat. But I was specifically told cats. I wonder why some cats are bigger than others..."
Sam groaned. "Great. Just great. Cas, this isn't just a--a practical joke, or something, is it?"
In a Room at the Board
DawnFire stared at her screen, nonplussed. "What--hold on, why's he gone back to being mentally unstable? I thought that went away when he came back from Purgatory. Why's it happening again?"
She reached out a hand to pat her first tribble, which purred. In its fireproofed corner, the mini-Balrog looked up questioningly.
"And--and I didn't even mean to write that," DawnFire added, mostly to herself. "He was going to turn around and apologize, he was just being quiet because he was concentrating on sending the cats home, or something. How'd he even--?" She stopped. "Oh no. No, no, no..."
She checked the screen, and found that several more lines had typed themselves while she was talking. "No! You've got to be kidding me. Since when do stories write themselves to this extent?"
The tribble purred. DawnFire positioned her fingers on the keys of her laptop, and jerked them away as something stung them. Cautiously, she tried again, and was relieved when no shock followed; when she tried to lift one hand to move the tribble away from her tea, she discovered that her hands refused to move any farther off the keyboard than it took to reach the rest of the keys and the touchpad.
"Aah!" she squeaked, and tried frantically to free her fingers, with no success. As she watched, they began to type, guided by an unseen force. "No! Nonononono! Help!"
She tried to stop typing and failed. Attempting to reach her email, she found that her fingers refused to comply. The story just kept writing.
RC 18
Dawn frowned as she watched the chaos that had taken over her RC. "DawnFire?" she said. "What's going on? And why can't I turn on the lights?"
As if in answer, a portal flickered open and dropped a young woman with light brown hair into the abandoned chair. She shrieked in surprise, and then stared at her fingers.
"What--" The newcomer wiggled her fingers, and grinned. "Yes! I'm free!"
Sam and Dean eyed her warily, ready for a fight. Meg glanced at Castiel, who was eyeing the newcomer over Dean's shoulder. Hermione backed away, wishing she had her wand with her. Dawn stared, and then walked cautiously closer.
"DawnFire?" she asked. "Is that you?"
DawnFire blinked. "Wha--Dawn? Why am I--" she caught sight of the canon characters and froze, gaping.
Dawn sighed. "DawnFire, focus. What's going on? Why are you here? Actually, just what's going on?"
DawnFire managed to drag her eyes back to the shadowy figure of the Assassin, and sighed. "I don't really know. I mean, we've had a blackout, at the Board, I mean, only now it's at the PPC--there's a great interlude going on, it's really hila--" She stopped, and went pale, although no one could really tell in the dark. "That's it. I'm in PPC HQ, and Slorp is roaming the hallways."
"'Slorp'?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised. "What's 'Slorp'?" He pronounced the word as though he wasn't quite sure it was what he was supposed to be saying.
"Uhhh," said DawnFire, blinking several times in an attempt to keep her mind clear. "Um. Slorp. Right. Meatloaf monster from the Cafeteria. The Doctor's dealing with it. Not sure if it's eaten an Angel yet or not, though."
"Wait," Dean said. "We're dealing with a meatloaf monster that runs around eating angels?" He glanced at Sam, and then at Cas...who wasn't there. "Cas? Cas!"
"It's alright, it eats a Weeping Angel, not an angel-angel," DawnFire said hurriedly. Sam stared at her.
"We're dealing with Weeping Angels now, too?"
"No, the Doctor is--" DawnFire began, and was interrupted by Dawn.
"DawnFire, you're going to have to tell me everything about this interlude, and we've got to find Cas. And get all the cats back where they belong. And Hermione. And Dumbledore."
"Ok, what?" Sam said.
Meg's eyes narrowed. "So basically, we have cats from all over the place running around here, as well as a meatloaf with a taste for angels, and my unicorn's run away. And who knows what other dangers there are in this place, whatever it even is." She smirked. "What the hell. Let's save the day. Sounds like fun."
"I still don't understand why you're here," Dawn said. She was unusually intent, most signs of insanity pushed to the side.
DawnFire sighed. "I don't actually know. The plotholes aren't supposed to be stabilizing--maybe it's because Cas opened so many that worked, I think he might have stabilized the room instead of each individual plothole? As for why I'm here, it's...not a good story. I was typing, and then I couldn't stop, and then the story started writing itself, and I'd nearly managed to contact Karen when the plothole dumped me here." She tried to smile. "So, are we saving the day, then?"
To be continued!
--
[I couldn't quite decide which cat to bring in. Then, I decided to just bring in all of them. Virtual cookies to you if you know where all the cats are from. Also, Meg is extremely hard to write, at least in terms of facial expressions. I mean, I can see her move in my head, but getting that into words...pretty difficult.]
[Also, this is technically my first time writing for Supernatural, unless I've forgotten something. So, if you spot any OOCness, feel free to let me know and I'll deal with it. Thanks!]
[Oh, and, uh, I think this is becoming an interlude in its own right. Once it's finished, I'll probably clean it up and post it on livejournal.]
~DawnFire
(Quickly, though, before I give into temptation and portal in Aslan, talking lion from Narnia extraordinaire. Or Rumbleroar.)
(Saving long replies for Sunday/Monday when I'm back on my laptop with battery and internet, though. Just...be warned.)
~DF
((Go right ahead with what you've got planned))
((Although I can't help but be curious about what you were planning originally!))
~DF
Creepers are deathly afraid of cats! It'll leave, and you can neuralize/glomp the canons without as large a problem!
Of course, there probably are no cats nearby, but a meta-entity such as Agent Dawn will probably be able to approximate. Possibly.
I say "without as large a problem" rather than "no problem" because dimensional junctures have dropped Minecraft creatures and geographical features into HQ's null zone, and the DMFF and DES will probably need to disentangle the foreign continuum before block-headed fireproof ghosts start swarming the cafeteria.
A Creeper drenched in water will be unable to damage its surroundings when it goes off, but I don't know where you'd be able to get that much water at short notice.
Maybe if the tribble undergoes parthenogenesis, the Creeper will mistake the spawned young for cats... no, tribbles look nothing like cats. They don't have heads. Some have cat-like fur patterns, though. Maybe you can make it work...
On another note, I have a suggestion for the tribble's name, but I don't know if you would get the reference. Have you ever read Chasing the Moon?
There are no cats here!
...will a portalled-in tiger do?
(Although, what canon has tigers...?)
...oh, wait. No, perhaps not...or maybe yes?
Now, water I can do. Or rather, Dawn can. If the portal cooperates, anyway--but oh dear, the mini-Balrogs! No, water's no good.
I did briefly think of the tribble after you said cats, but you're right, they're not all that similar. And while I don't think I've read Chasing the Moon, you're welcome to tell me what it is, who wrote it, and what your name suggestion is; I can always read CtM, or have Dawn complain that she doesn't get the reference for her own tribble's name because her author took advice from a fellow Boarder and then forgot most of the details, and neither of them have had a chance to do a Google search. So please, suggest away :)
Now, is it worth it to bring in the cat!agents (disguised, that is) from my April Fool's Day mission? Because that's what I was talking about before...
Alternatively, d'you know any good canons with cats in them? Perhaps I could borrow from...uh...not sure, really...um...wait, there's a cat in Doctor Who, isn't there--oh. OH.
That's it, I'm bringing in Greebo. And *snaps mouth shut* Heh...spoilers. :D
Thanks for the advice!
~DF
... so I suppose a tiger would work just as well. There were tigers in the animated Disney universe, the Marvel Universe, and the His Dark Materials universe, just to name a few from the top of my head. I think Narnia had a tiger that could talk, too, though I'm not sure about that one. Plus, there's a tiger named Raksha in RC 481,516,234,277, but that number would take too long to type in and her owner would probably blow her stack if you sent Raksha halfway across HQ to ward off a creature known to be explosive, so that's out.
Actually, this might not be as complicated as I'm making it. I suppose most World One variants would have some form of large cat. At least a leopard or a lion or some similar creature.
I don't think you should involve alternate-reality selves in this. If the cat-disguised alt-Brenda and alt-Charlie ever de-disguise before going back to their home timestream, they'd be an ontological hazard. You'd most likely have to keep them as cats until somebody kills the Creeper, for safety's sake, and you probably shouldn't keep two of your own characters as cats for longer than they have to be unless they want to or they really deserve it. Plus, the main-world Brenda and Charlie would freak out if they walked into Dawn's RC and saw their alt-selves(though that assumes the alt-selves would have de-disguised or that the main-world selves would recognize themselves as cats).
Chasing the Moon is a book by A. Lee Martinez about interdimensional creatures trapped on Earth. It's a sort-of parody of the "eldritch abomination" stories from Lovecraftian times, but it downplays the "horror" aspect common to those stories significantly and spends most of its time on its (hilarious) characters, especially the monstrous roommates of the human protagonist.
The one I was going to name the tribble after is named Smorgaz, who was one of the roommates after about the first fourth of the book. Smorgaz, or Unending Smorgaz if you give him the title he rarely uses, has the ability to create copies of himself, though if he avoids spawning for long enough, copies will bud off even when he isn't trying to. If he's not trying, the copies tend to be shrunken nuisances that go around ripping up the carpets, but the copies he makes on purpose can act as other Smorgazes, and even duplicate on their own if they need to.
Since the tribbles are the most spawning-happy creatures in science fiction and Smorgaz is awesome, I figured he'd be a great tribble namesake.
The only Greebo I can think of is the mini-Rancor, so you don't need to worry about spoilers there. It's a lot easier to conceal things from people if they don't know what you're talking about.
"Lead on then," said Gaspard. "We should at least get away from the Minecraft halls. That's the third time I've been caught in an explosion this week and I don't feel like pushing my luck." He looked beyond Ian at the gaping crater in the ground. "So, er, do we let Maintenance know or something? I feel kinda responsible for this..."
A moment passed before he realized he had not introduced himself. "Oh, sorry. I'm Gaspard De Grasse, DoI. Pleasure to meet you, sir, ma'am. I think I know where I remember you from now: you're the team who got sent into that 'Rainbow Wands' thing, right? I read the mission report not too long ago. Spiffing job."
"We should probably let them know, just in case," Ian said as he began walking. "Leaving a hole like that in the middle of a corridor probably isn't the best idea."
Lee nodded in agreement and then smiled at Gaspard's compliment. "Thanks," she replied. "That was one of our more tame missions, even with the mini-Discords mucking everything up."
As they walked, the Minecraft halls briefly transitioned from End Stone into an area with the more familiar Generic Surface before turning into a passage with dark wooden paneling and creaky floors. Ian sighed.
"Looks like we're in some sort of abandoned building," he said. "What d'you think, horror or video game?"
"Could be both," Lee mused, and then poked at the nearest wall. "If it had gas or aetheric lamps, I would've said Victorian or steampunk."
"Putting Response Centres in abandoned buildings is sure going to boost morale, eh?" quipped Gaspard. "I doubt we'll find some secure RCs in this corner of HQ: given the current context, jump scares and stuff are probably around the corner. Or above," he added, remembering the giant spider.
He studied the surroundings for a moment. "Doesn't look like anything I've seen in my fandoms before, with the possible exception of Amnesia. Oh heck, don't let this be Amnesia... So in case of unpleasantness, what's our M.O.? Run or confront? 'Cause I'm really good at running, just saying."
"Run," Lee said. "I have magic at my disposal, but since we don't know where we are, I'd rather not accidentally create a bigger mess than what we're already in."
"This might just be a generic horror setting, but the quicker we're through it, the better," Ian chimed in, wincing slightly when the boards creaked ominously underfoot. "We're used to running; we'd probably fit in well in the Doctor Who 'verse."
"Aye, sir. Let's hope that we'll not encountering Whovian nasties. Those are a nasty piece of work," said Gaspard. "Besides, I don't think I can shoot anything for the life of me--"
But there! Corner of his eye. Movement. A shadow to the left flitting from doorway to doorway, corner to corner. Gaspard clicked on his armoursuit's flashlights and pointed towards the disturbance.
"Th-there!" he hissed, voice shaking with terror. "M-movement. Nine o-o'clock. Some b-big th-thing in the a-archway!" The suit-mounted flashlight barely illuminated the area in question.
There was a statue of an angel under the arch, its face cupped in its hands. Another one was poised behind it, looking straight at the agents with its face twisted into a snarl.
"Weeping Angels!" squeaked Gaspard, getting ready to bolt. "Can't move if you keep them in line of sight-- another one behind us! I've got him! Do not look at them in the eye! You'll become one of them. Don't blink! It gives them enough time to dash forward!"
Three Angels, three agents, a branching corridor. Left or right?
"By the Bright Lady herself," Lee breathed, eyes wide. She grabbed at Ian's wrist, searching for a familiar point of stability. "Ian..."
Ian swore under his breath, wracking his brain as to what to do next. After several tortuous moments, a thought hit him: "Medusa."
"What?"
"Medusa. Mirrors. Lee, can you conjure up any sort of mirrored glass? Would that work? Or maybe one-way mirrors?" Ian asked, doing his best to keep his eyes on the Angel in front of him without blinking or staring it directly in the face.
"I don't know. Besides, doesn't the image of an Angel become an Angel itself? Anything reflective would just create more Angels!"
"I think that's only been recently established. These may be series three-era Angels and not follow the same rules."
"How in the nine hells can we tell?" Lee asked, her voice sharp. "They all look the same to me!"
"Okay, okay," said Gaspard to try to pull himself together. "Eating habits. If they are the send-back-in-time-to-feed type, we can wait it out until the portal generators are fixed and portal back to HQ. No biggie. If they don't need us, we're dead meat. You each have an RA, right-- damn!"
The HEV suit's flashlight started to fizzle out. Gaspard quickly pulled a Minecraft torch from his Pouch and placed it on the ground, but the Angel in front of him used the temporary distraction to leap forward, its fingertips now centimetres away from Gaspard's nose. The spy lept back into the Assassins.
"Ack! Sorry!! Okay, what do I have...? RA, nope. Earpiece, worthless. What else, what else... Oh?"
He pulled his DORKS from his pouch of holding, a grin spreading across his face. "I have a plan," he said.
"We haven't been on a mission in a day and a half," Ian told Gaspard, catching his balance. He blinked, and then yelped when the Angel he'd been watching moved forward, and far too close for comfort. "No RA. They're back in our RC."
"What's this big plan of yours?" Lee asked, her grip on Ian's wrist tightening. "My eyes are starting to water here, so sooner would be better than later, please. If these are the send-us-back-in-time sort, they're gonna be living large; I come from a race that lives for around seven hundred years, so it's a good idea for me to be caught by one of these things!"
"That should help a bit," said Gaspard, growing more and more excited as he typed in a code into his noodle-pack DORKS while keeping one eye on the Angel in front of him.
"You see, not many people realize how much power you wield with the Kostume System. It can be used to turn you into a living weapon: a krogan, a protoss, ultralisk, brood lord, you name it. It even does Pokémon. Here's the plan: I turn myself into an Espeon-- little psychic fox thing-- and I'll cast Trick Room which makes slower creatures--us-- move a whole lot faster. Next step, run for our lives. It's a million-to-one chance, but it just might work," he added, hoping that Legal was listening.
"Ready? On three. One, two three!"
BZORP!
A couple of seconds later, the world twisted. A little lilac Pokémon shook its head and dashed down the nearest opening, looking back over its shoulder to see if the two human agents were following.
Lee and Ian didn't waste time running after the changed Gaspard; in fact, Lee caught up with him pretty handily, having changed into her mountain lion form. She occasionally looked back to see if Ian was keeping up. He was, thanking every deity he knew of (and some that he even believed in) that he had long legs and strong running abilities.
..: To the left! :.. Lee called, her telepathic voice carrying a bit of an echo as she spoke to both Ian and Gaspard. ..: The halls are changing again. Keep moving! :.. She carefully didn't mention anything about the Angels staying in their own little section of HQ, not wanting to ruin their million-to-one chance of getting the hell out of there relatively unscathed.
First creepers, now Weeping Angels. What was next?
A few minutes of frantic running brought the agents to a new section of HQ. Here the walls were more of the familiar Generic Surface sort, complete with scorch marks and sparkly stains on the walls. A quick scan of the his surroundings reassured Gaspard that nothing was chasing him or his companions so he finally came to a stop and spat out the DORKS which he had been carrying in his mouth.
A quick BZORP! later and he was back to being human again. Gaspard stood up, knees still knocking together. "They told me I was crazy," he said to no one in particular. "Stupid plans, they said. I'll never make use of Trick Room, they said. Stop practicing the move, they said." He pumped both fists in the air, giggling nervously. "Vindication! Wheee-heee-heee-heee!"
Once he had finished his giggling fit in the corner, he turned to Lee and Ian. "Ah... sorry. I think I know where we are now: we're within spitting distance of the Courtyard. I recognize this dagger in the wall there. Shall we?"
Ian slowed to a halt, the beads in his dreadlocks clicking against one another as he pushed them out of his face. "Sitting down sounds very good right about now," he panted, taking in controlled breaths as he tried to get his breathing and heart rate slowly back to normal.
..: I agree, :.. Lee said, her light-crystals coming to a stop all around them. She sat down and then leaned against Ian, who automatically began scratching behind one of her ears. A weary rumble of a purr resulted from his actions.
..: Also, some water would be good as well. :..
"Lessee... from the dagger, it's about ten metres this way down the hall, hang a right, watch your step, there's a crack in the floor... aaaaand here we go."
Gaspard pushed open a normal-looking door and shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness. A few green leaves blew in from beyond the frame, landing silently on the Generic Flooring.
The door opened on a grassy hilltop dominated by a single oak tree. A gravel path wound around the tree and meandered away into the distance, skirting a river and a man-made forest. The sun was high in the sky, indicating it was sometime around noon. From the Courtyard, the way to HQ was a simple freestanding door on its frame.
The spy casually strode though the doorway and sat down on one of the benches under the oak tree's shade. He pulled a cylindrical object on a tripod and a handheld monitor from his Pouch, flicked them on, and set them down on the ground beside him.
"Motion sensor gadget," explained Gaspard. "It may be sunny here, but you can never be too paranoid. Now, does anyone want some tea? I think I have a kettle on me somewhere."
Ian and Lee followed after Gaspard, blinking against the bright light that washed over them as they stepped into the Courtyard. Between one breath and the next, Lee had changed back to human, rising elegantly to her feet before taking hold of Ian's offered hand. They joined Gaspard beneath the tree, taking seats next to one another on one of the other benches.
"I would love some tea," Lee said, giving Gaspard a thankful smile. "It's been a while since I've had any. Just no mint, thanks."
Ian snickered a little at that, causing Lee to elbow him gently in the side. He ignored it, merely giving her hand a soft squeeze in response.
Gaspard pulled an electric kettle, a crumpled cardboard box of tea bags, a canteen, and two mugs from his Pouch. He placed the box and mugs beside him, filled the kettle with the canteen of water, plugged the power cord somewhere inside his pouch of holding ("You have no idea what a pain it was to get that generator in there."), flicked the power switch, and placed the kettle next to the mugs.
The agent sat back and looked at the two Assassins holding hands. Feeling a little awkward, he clasped his hands together and stared off into the distance, not sure whether he should start a conversation or not. He eventually picked up the cardboard box and sifted through the tea bag envelopes with an index finger.
"Right, er... I've got some Earl Grey, Darjeeling, Orange Pekoe, and some mystery brand-name stuff in a bag. What will you be having?"
"I'll go with Earl Grey," Ian said, "and I'll resist the Captain Picard impressions. For now."
"He has a truly horrible British accent when not in disguise," Lee commented, amused. "So, Gaspard, we never really thanked you for saving our lives back there. If you ever need anything, or a favor, feel free to ask. We're in RC 6327."
"Or if you want baked goods," Ian added, gently disentangling Lee's hand from his own, setting it on her leg. "Lee tends to go a little overboard with the baking when we have the time."
Gaspard looked at the ground and scratched the back of his head. "No, no, no. It's all right. You can just forget about it. I don't want to be a bother. You patched me up after that Creeper explosion, and I pulled us out of the Weeping Angel corner, so I think that makes us even, so... um. I really-- no, wait. Sorry. What I meant to say was: thanks. I'll definitely come by later."
A few minutes later, the kettle finished boiling the water. Gaspard dropped teabags in the mugs and poured the hot water into each. The spy handed both Assassins their mugs and returned to his seat, pulling a thermos flask from his Pouch and pouring himself a drink.
"All right folks, enjoy."
"Thanks." Lee let her tea sit, allowing the brew to steep and cool down a little as she waited. "It feels nice here. I don't think I've ever been here in all my time as an agent."
"Really?" Ian looked surprised. "I would've thought this would be one of your favorite places to go as an elemental mage, since it's outside." He paused. "I think."
Lee shrugged, checking her tea. "I've never managed to find the place."
"If you don't mind me asking, ma'am, have you ever been to New Caledonia?" asked Gaspard between sips of tea. "If you haven't yet, I highly recommend it. The weather over there is pretty nice around this time of the year and there's some pretty good food over there if you know your way around the city." The spy leaned against his bench's back rest, gazing upward into the oak. "Speaking of which, my grandmother keeps on talking about this awesome little ramen shop on Rue Nénuphar. I'd better check it out next lunch break."
"Please, just call me Lee. I'm not much for formalities," Lee said, trying her tea and humming in pleasure at its taste. "I got way too much of that back home. I'm just happy with 'agent' if you want to be specific. Besides, I'm technically a Miss, given that I'm not married. And no, I've never been. They keep us pretty busy in the DMS, so it's hard to find time just to relax."
"Yes, ma-- will do, Agent Lee," said Gaspard. "Sorry about that, old habits die hard. It's always been 'sir' or 'ma'am" to anyone that's older or higher up than me." He took another draught of tea from his cup. "Er, back there with the Angels, you said people of your race could live up to seven hundred years. What 'verse do you come from?"
Lee frowned. "I don't know if it has an actual name or not," she replied, leaning back in her seat. "All I know is that it's mine. As far as I can tell, it's based off of World One, but the geography's skewed. It's a steampunk 'verse with magic, though."
"Picture the His Dark Materials 'Verse, but no daemons and more dragons," Ian said, " add a dash of DMFA 'verse cubi clan structures, and then throw in a few gods."
"Try a whole pantheon." Lee shook her head. "It's complicated."
Gaspard smiled. "Ah, His Dark Materials. I remember some of it. Loved that series. D'you still have family over there?" He turned to Ian, who had been sitting quietly for a while. "And what about you, sir-- no, blast it-- Agent Ian? Where are you from? Sorry about all of the questions, but I just like to know more about just about everyone I meet..."
Lee nodded. "My whole House," she said. "We're a big family, or at least, those among my age group. I've got sixteen cousins spread out over three different groups, plus my own brothers and sister."
"I'm from World One," Ian told Gaspard with a shrug. "Nothing too exciting. My parents and my sister are back on Hawaii."
Gaspard whistled. "Hawaii, eh? Can't say I've ever been there: until the PPC I've never left the province of Québec. It's on my bucket list though... And how can Hawaii not be exciting? According to the travel brochures, it's all beaches and sunshine and flip-flops. What's not to like?"
Ian shrugged. "I lived there for eighteen years of my life," he said. "After a while, you get used to it, just like any other place."
The Infrastructure Departments are not going to have a good time disentangling yet another random continuum from HQ. Minecraft's intrusion provided enough extra work. At least that one is big enough and labyrinthine enough naturally to be able to slide in and out of HQ's null zone comparably easily.
A continuum like the new one, with actual floors and wood, will take ages to separate! The reason HQ is made of Generic Surface is because Perfectly Generic Material is the only substance capable of keeping itself structured properly in a null zone for extended periods of time. If the wood flooring isn't separated properly, it could fall into a random spot in the multiverse, leaving huge holes in HQ! Then, the Department of Operations would have to go repair it, and I'm not even sure I want to know how many workers they'd lose while mapping out the structural damage once the holes form.
This power outage caused an even bigger problem than I thought it would. Once you're out of the unfamilar area, somebody should really call the Nightshade and the Captain Dandy to get their troops removing the invasive dimensional space before the damage snowballs and HQ ends up colliding into a continuum with sapient life.
To: [sturbo.console124204wc759525.rc1597.SOD]
From: [caroline.dosat]
As Corolla functions off of an internal energy source her functions should be unaffected. This should only afflict the technology that was attached to the PPC main power source at the time of the outage. Thus, beings like her and myself are unharmed. Should further complications arise Anne has devoted most of her spare bodies to creating short-term fixes for Agents. It is extremely probable that eventually she will find your RC.
- Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device Humanoid Testing Droid DoSAT Technician Caroline
To: [caroline.dosat]
From: [sturbo.console124204wc759525.rc1597.SOD]
Subject: Re: Re: Current power outage
Thank you for your answer. I hope that the powerdown will be fixed soon.
Still, what a way to celebrate Nikki's birthday...
Agent Sergio Turbo
[Fun fact: Sakura Kinomoto's birthday is on April 1st. Nikki's a badfic clone of her, so she shares the same birthday.]
To: [DoDAEG] & [DoSAT]
From: [lana.console8888]
Hey, I just got back from a mission with Narav and Riaa, and our disguise thingie died right as we were coming out. Narav is Not Happy about being a strange combination of a Pikachu and Canim (don't ask) and I think Riaa might start pulling out the giant shadow-spider legs if her REAL spider legs don't stop being pony feet (DON'T ASK.) Get some of your madboys up here to fix this!
To: [Everybody else, basically]
From: [0.4342944819.console.192.168.2.1.External]
Subject: Power outage?
Uhum. Is there something wrong with HQ's power supply? Des is unable to prepare tea, and he is driving me up the walls, figuratively speaking, as a result. Also, the lights seem to have gone out, and this is somewhat problematic...
To: [Everybody else]
From: [ERROR: INVALID CONSOLE IP]
Subject: Re: Power Outage
DoSAT's working on it. It's purely a technical problem, so please refrain from lynching anyone. And if you're not a DoSAT operative, please stop broadcasting your messages. You're flooding the system.
^Made of technology
>My sides