Upon hearing the loud knock at his RC door, Copernicus almost involuntarily looked up to focus on it. The golem briefly weighed the benefits of ignoring the sound and continuing to fine-tune the charge port for his new mini-Colossus with the cons that might result if whoever was on the other side tried to force the door open. Opting for the path that would at least allow him more prep time for interaction, he stood up, taking a brief moment to untangle a wire from his cogs.

"Excuse me, Anersin," he said to the mini perched on the couch. "I have to answer this." Anersin beeped in acknowledgement as Copernicus walked toward the special-sized RC door, and watched as he opened it with a massive clockwork hand.

Upon doing so, however, the golem was confronted with the sight of a short Dersite with his hands in the pockets of an enormous, garishly-colored coat. No two patches were alike in color or texture, the lapels in particular contrasting brightly with its more-or-less red theme, and seemingly as an afterthought, the being's normally-bald head was adorned with a floppy blond wig.

"Hey, Nick!" the Dersite greeted him familiarly as he squeezed around his partner's mechanical bulk into the RC. "Still here, huh? I thought you'd either be down looking for a costume or up in the Observatory hiding again."

The golem only spared a moment to be baffled before remembering who he was dealing with. He sighed, the noise producing a grinding hum deep in his vocal vents. He would need to use simple, direct questions. "Hiding from what, Lonny? And why exactly are you dressed like that?"

"What, like this?" Lonny performed a theatrical half-twirl. "I'm Colin Baker! I got this costume for a steal down at the general store. Well, the coat, mostly. Kelemen said he'd been having a hard time selling it."

Copernicus shifted the position of his feet to get a better look at the coat, and quickly realized that he still found it hideous, even at the new angle. "Well, then, it was very good of you to take it off of his hands, especially if there are other people searching for costumes at this time, as you implied. I know how difficult it is having to unload surplus commodities after their value as a craze item has ended."

Lonny groaned and rolled his eyes. "No, no, no. That was a perfect setup for something like 'I can't imagine why' or 'You know, there might've been a good reason for that'. You'll never learn if you don't take opportunities like this, man!"

Copernicus briefly considered pursuing this, but wrote it off as a lost cause. It would be better to ask more direct questions. "Lonny," he asked, "Why, precisely, are people buying so many costumes?"

"Oh, right!" Lonny fished around in one of the internal pockets of his new outfit and pulled out a message decorated in almost as many colors as the coat. "There's a party today! It's Purim's birthday, or anniversary, or baby shower, or something, and she wants us all to dress up! I didn't really read too far into it, honestly, because the shifting colors started to give me a headache, but hey, anyplace with free food and an opportunity to dress up like the Doctor is a place I can get behind! And you're coming with me."

"And why would that be?"

Lonny grinned, showing that his dedication to the costume hadn't included covering up his sharp Dersite teeth. "Twofold: because it'd be an opportunity to do some more of that 'meeting new people' and 'expanding cultural knowledge' you're always yakking about but never actually getting down to doing, and because without you there, there'd be no first line of defense if I decide to do something you'd regret answering questions about later. And I know you don't want that."

Copernicus thought about this for a moment, musing mostly over how non-specific his partner's second point was and weighing the possibilities for both mentioned opportunities. After a few seconds, he relented. Shuffling to the nearby closet, he carefully opened the door and lifted out several items, stacking them one by one into two piles on the floor until he pulled out a sombrero and a large blue domino mask.

"This will do." he remarked to no one in particular, and managed to loop the mask's string around his head with much less effort than one would have expected with a head as large and smooth as his.

Lonny snickered. "You know, I hadn't even considered this before, but those masks really don't have the same effect when the guy wearing them doesn't have a mouth."

"It was not my decision. They were leftovers from the Christmas party."

"Aaand another opportunity gone. 'Says the guy with the patchwork coat', maybe?" Lonny shrugged. "Whatever." His eyes brightened. "Hey, wait, the Christmas party? Do I get to hear a story from this mysterious escapade on the way to Purim's room?"

"I will never discuss the Christmas party."

"I don't think you've quite managed to capture the essence of that costume, Cali" Miah said looking up and down Cali's Men in Black suit.

"What? No way! I've got this!" Cali adjusted his grip on Helen's hand. The four-year-old was dressed as Deadpool in a princess tutu. It was Miah's idea.

"It's the blue hair that looks like it might be alive, dude."

"Better than your costume. A psychopath? Really?"

"Hey, they look just like everyone else, but underneath..."

"That has never been anything but a lame excuse for not dressing up and you know--Kyle, Kevin! No! No, slime pistols at the party!" Cali left Helen with Miah and chased after the two boys, who were dressed as generic marines.

Hannah, who was on break from junior agent training, was dressed as Zoe from Firefly. "Does he realize that those are just the decoys?"

Miah shook her head and made shushing noises as Cali came back holding the water pistols. "Seriously, where do they keep getting these things?"

Miah put her most innocent look on her face. It didn't help that Ronan was on her shoulder looking supremely smug.

"Oh. Of course."

"Hey, toots, we're here," Dinozo said before he and Magee disappeared into the crowd. They could be tracked by the loudly off-key singing of Irish pub music.

Miah shook her head. "I don't want to think about the trouble those two can get into when drunk."

"Hey, I see Florestan and Eusabius!" He darted off to join them.

Miah handed new slime guns to the boys and reminded them to take defensible positions before sliming anyone. She left Ronan near the chocolate section of the buffet. Hannah drifted into the crowd leading Helen toward the nearest gathering of children.

Hauk Tauri, Lt Colonel Samantha Cater, and their hatchling mini-Unas trailed in behind.

"Hey Unger," she said when she spotted the half-elf near the meat section of the buffet. She looked around, but didn't spot Kelok.

"Get off of me, already!" Cali shouted. Miah glanced at him. He was under a pile of minis. She shook her head. He couldn't go anywhere near a creature based mini without it glomping him.

Unger pointed to a gathering of agents in a corner. The sound of Magee and Dinozo singing "Seven Drunken Nights" could be heard from that direction. Miah rolled her eyes. A new sound stopped her mid-eyeroll. A baritone voice had joined them on the chorus. She looked at Unger who nodded. he was laughing so hard that he was holding his ribs.

"You know he's going to kill you tomorrow, right?"

Unger nodded, laughing too hard to speak.

"Come on Kelok. There'll be food. Real food," Unger said. He was joined in the puppy dog eyes department by Homles, the mini-Hound of the Baskervilles, and Khazad Dym, the mini-Balrog.

"I like the food in the cafeteria," Kelok growled.

"Hey, no fair using your Wraith growl at me! We haven't done anything in what feels like years! Besides, I want to see you drunk when it isn't a problem with your nigel."

Kelok gave him a Look. "I'll go, but I am not getting drunk."

Sometime later the baying of the mini-Hound preceded the arrival of a Stargate Atlantis Wraith dressed as Sherlock Holmes, and a D & D 3.5 half-elf dressed as Jamie McCrimmon from Dr. Who.

The minis ran off to politely greet and/or cover with glowing drool unsuspecting party goers, and Kelok and Unger settled in near the food. They didn't see anyone they knew, but then, they didn't get away from Sherlock Holmes much.

Unger began surreptitiously filling Kelok's glass with alcohol.

"Hm... Florestan, mayhaps this could be rather interesting."

Eusabius held the slip of paper that had been posted to the door.

"Oh dear, it's Purim again," Florestan said. He sighed.

"Purim?" Wave Crest asked. "I... I'm sorry, I'm not sure what that is..."

"It's a Jewish holiday," Florestan replied. "I remember the last time I went to one of those. I got really hammered..." He nursed his head. "I still get nightmares about the headaches."

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," Wave Crest replied.

"Indeed," Eusabius said. He offered a smile. "Perhaps I can even see if Zerenze is willing to come..."

Florestan chuckled. "That's not gonna end well," he said immediately. "Well, unless you're the kind who loves to see what drunk aliens do."

"Hey," said Wave Crest. "It'll be awfully sweet, I think. What's the worst that could--?"

"Don't finish that sentence," Florestan replied. "You know how the Ironic Overpower is."

"Hm... I believe I shall ask him to come along, then," Eusabius said. With this, he walked over to the console. "You two should prepare yourselves as well."

"Okay," said Wave Crest. "I think this'll be fun!"

"Ugh, I hope so..." said Florestan. "I just better not be nursing a hangover when we're done here..."

Dark Lord Aakmal has just finished sweeping the floor of his textile shop when a old, fat orcwoman enters the shop.

"Ah, Bilza, how's the food at Cafeteria?"

"Horrible, my lord." Her burp however suggests otherwise. She seems to be holding a decorated basket of goodies. And its contents are triangular-shaped pastries which Aakmal has never seen in his whole life.

"And what's that you're holding?"

"Ah yes, my lord. This basket I found in our pantry. It's an invitation to celebrate... Purim, according to this card."

She walks in through the back door, thought Aakmal. "Call everyone in the shop, Bilza. Let's share the treats. Let's head back to the pantry, my throat is itching for coffee anyways."

***

Aakmal, Gashnag, Bilza, and a few other orcs are seated around the table, the basket on it, and empty of the pastries, which are now being eaten slowly by everyone.

"This biscuit is awesome, Thuglan."

"I think it's a cake, Bilza."

"Thuglan, Look at it! It's so crunchy. Cakes are never crunchy!"

"Well, mine is chewy."

"Is it, Gashnag? Let me some!"

And soon all the orcs are entangled in a quarrel over whether the pastry is a cake or biscuit. Aakmal quickly takes the basket before they ruin it, and let them quarrel for a few minutes before he blows a whistle.

"Now, that I got your attention, it's time to answer the penultimate question: Are we going there?"

Everyone nods and comments in agreement.

"And now, the ultimate question: What we are going to wear?"

Evry orcs mutters in chorus, "Eh?"

Aakmal sighs. "(Costumes encouraged), the cards say."

"I'm dressing as the prettiest princess!" shouts the male orc Gashnag.

"You're too pretty for that." comments Tughlan, to the laughter of everyone.

"Alright, I don't know when the party is going to end, and where the room actually is. Let's meet back here in 15 minutes, with or without costumes, but preferably not naked. We'll close shop for today."

***

Everyone is dressed and ready for a party. Gashnag is rocking the Lady Gaga's Rita Repulsa dress, Bilza is sporting a British Safari costume, Tughlan decides to go minimalist and employs the Indian servant dress, holding an umbrella for his wife, Larslan is wearing the Batman costume, and Daughrad is trying to look like Justin Bieber.

Dark Lord Aakmal, the claimant of Arda, the Lord of Orcs under Bukit Kepayan, the nominal servant of Morgoth... is wearing a green Baju Melayu shirt with green-and-blue checkered sarong with a cheap belt. All the orcs are looking at their lord with disbelief.

"What? I'm a simple Dark Lord, with a simple Dark needs."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Wait, let's lock the shop first."

***

"Where's the party, my lord?"

"I have no idea."

"We've been circling the whole PPC HQ for weeks!"

"You mean we just walked for a few minutes, Daughrad."

And suddenly they found a wide-open door with a large hole in the wall right beside it. A small crowd have gathered inside the room, chatting and wondering at the hole in the wall.

"I guess here's the party."

Séverine peeked around the corner of the door--the actual doorway, not the blown-in one. After the large plant stuck in the top of the Kanak chieftain's headdress flopped down over her eyes, she adjusted the hat's flat, round part (mindful of the animal teeth ringing it) back to the top of her head. "Oui, here is this party, Yoof," she said. She edged into the room, with her Mog partner following behind.

"Ha!" Yoof barked, his voice muffled by a full-face Phantom of the Opera mask. "I smell them! Tasty treats from that letter!"

"I wish you had left one for me to taste," she replied, edging around dancing and chatting agents. "But no matter; party food is always decent. Better than anything we have found for la cantine all week, I am sure. Now, where are they--these cookie things you claim taste so good?"

Yoof sniffed the air--it soundly exaggeratedly loud from inside the Erik mask. "Mmmmm . . . everywhere! Find tables!"

Séverine tried to look over the heads around her, but she was too short. "They must be along the edges, Yoof. Come, to the wall!" She took her partner by the hand and started leading him through the crowd. Yoof continued sniffing, the sound drawing a few quizzical glances from the agents they passed.

"All different things in the centers, ha!" Yoof barked. "Cherries and chocolate and cheese and . . . and . . . and . . ."

Séverine waited for him to finish, then hesitantly filled in, "Chicken?"

"Prunes!" Yoof finished. "Ha!"

"Oh. That does sound more reasonable. Oui."

The partners finally reached a table, covered in large platters that were themselves covered in triangular pastries folded over various colors of filling.

"Ha! Ha!" Yoof barked as he grabbed one and tried to jam it into the closed mouth of his mask.

"Not so loud, Yoof! Do not draw attention." Séverine reached for one of the pastries with a dark-colored middle. She placed one in her mouth and began chewing--then moaned even louder than Yoof had barked.

"Oh, la saveur . . . what are these delicious things?"

((Seems like a perfect time to test out some new agents I've been playing around with, particularly since it's non-canon.))

"No, no, you don't understand, any reason to get drunk is great. This just happens to be a religious one."

"Neither of us are Jewish, though."

A shrug. "And? Since when have you known any PPC agent to turn up free food and booze, my dear guide?"

There was a pause, and then the shorter of the two Floaters shrugged. "Eh, you're right. The food'll be better than the Cafeteria, at any rate, if these cake-things are any indication."

"Literally anything is better than the cafeteria."

"True. So, what should we wear?"

~/~

Not long after that, a stocky redhead in the robes of a Jedi walked in, accompanied by a slightly shorter woman of indeterminate Asian descent who was wearing a set of dark green scrubs and a white lab-coat. She was fiddling with a clip-on badge that refused to hang straight, muttering under her breath. Finally, her companion pulled her to one side and adjusted it for her.

"There," he said, making sure it was hanging straight. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks, Alex."

"You're more than welcome, Grace." He absently smoothed out her lab-coat at the shoulders and then kissed her on the forehead. "Let's go see is we know any... There's a hole. In the wall."

Grace turned. "So there is. Weird."

Caroline frowned as she scanned the invitation. "Costumes encouraged..." She turned to Anne. "Anne, do you -" She stopped speaking as she saw Anne pulling on a glassy mask. "When did you get that?"

Anne blinked in surprise. "This? Oh, it's a side-project I've been working on. See?" She tapped the side of the mask, activating a thin holographic layer over the top of the mask.

Caroline's neck joints whirred as she tilted her head. "In any case. I believe that some of those extra drones we've been working on should work for a costume."

Anne shrugged. "I don't see why not!"

Also, this is another reason why the PPC is so cool- I never would have known Purim even existed if I wasn't a Boarder. American Education System FAIL.

Maybe I'll post something more if I get an idea, but right now I'm just kind of wiped. :/

Printworthy read over the strange multicolored note again, finaly able to translate the words written in the lighter shades. "Interesting... Marvin, do you know what the term 'Purim' refers to?"

Marvin shook his head, reading the note over his partner's shoulder. "No, I don't. I mean, I think I've heard it used before, but I can't remember when or why." He scratched his forehead, his eyes clamped shut, in an attempt to look into the past. "It was... Um..." The man started to nod his head slightly, a slight memory peaking over the imposing walls of time. "I think Barry mentioned it once. It was some sort of Jewish holiday his family celebrated. Can't remember anything else, though."

Printworthy smiled, setting the note down lightly. "Ah, a traditional holiday. Well, that would be cause for celebration. I am, regrettably, dreadfully ignorant on human culture, beyond some limited exposure through fan creations and yourself. Is there any information you could give me on the customs of these Jewish peoples that you mentioned?"

Marvin thought back once more, diving back into the recesses of his mind. "Um...They are a religious group. They have a special language they traditionally speak and write in. They follow the Old Testament, as well as some other texts..." Marvin's eyes opened reluctantly, finally accepting defeat. "That's bout it. I never learned much about the Jews. Sorry."

Printworthy batted his partner's apology away, his smile growing ever wider. "No matter, no matter. We are all ignorant on a great many things. However, this does provide a marvelous opportunity to learn more about this culture. Besides, the missions have been wearing down on us. Some festivities would do us both well. Now," he said, turning towards the closet in the corner. "what costumes shall we wear?"

"And on that day, the PPC gathered, little knowing what--"

"No."

The young man in red robes frowned at his companion, and then continued. "Little knowing what would--"

"Stop it."

Abaddon scowled. "Look, it's a costume party! Villains are allowed!"

Bookworm, a blond boy with a fearsome (and constant) scowl who looked to be about thirteen years old, glared at him. "Dressing up as Rassilon doesn't give you the right to narrate like he did!"

Abaddon threw up his arms. As he bore a strong resemblance to Matt Smith, this had rather the effect of making him look like the Eleventh Doctor playing dress-up--which was, of course, what he was doing. "Yes, it does! Look, if it bothers you that much, go find someone else to talk to! You can, I don't know, er--" He paused. When he went on, it was in a quieter voice. "Er, what did you dress up as, exactly?"

Bookworm's scowl intensified. "I'm a Hetalia character."

Abaddon raised both eyebrows. "Are you sure? Because you don't look any different--"

"Shut up, My Lord President," Bookworm snapped. "I'm off. Just do me a favor and find some Time Lords to startle, will you?" And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Considering this, Abaddon began to grin. "Startling Time Lords. Sounds like fun." He straightened his back, raised the staff in his hand, and assumed a serious expression. "This day, Gallifrey falls--or Gallifrey rises!"

Seconds later, the serious expression broke and ran for cover as he started to chuckle.

"Right," he murmured, still laughing. "Time Lords, Time Lords...I wonder what they're dressed as?"

I'd rather wait until I've formally introduced my Agent to send him to a Jewish holiday bash in the PPC. Plus, his brainwa- orientation isn't complete yet.

Two space marines could be seen sitting on the floor, eating with a red-feathered velociraptor, who had a distressing habit of spearing the appetizers with his long toeclaws. Although the sight of their saurian partner attacking his food with enthusiasm (and his feet) didn't bother Vid and Nemedra much, it certainly cleared some space around them. Plus, there were few even amongst the PPC who wanted to get between a hungry velociraptor, no matter how fluffy he was, and the snacks.

(Someday I swear I will properly write Vid, Nemedra, and Trask... I might just graduate first, though.)

“Do you know what is the meaning of this?” the Librarian asked, holding a piece of paper between forefinger and thumb. It was brightly coloured, and a hamantaschen was hanging innocently from a piece of string tied to one of the corners.
Des looked up from the piece of paper he was currently scribbling on. He blinked twice, then got up and moved closer to where the Librarian was standing near the rifle closet in RC log e. He took the paper from his partner and read it. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“That’s an invitation to a Purim party,” the human Agent said and chuckled. He lifted a hand to forestall his partner’s forthcoming elitist protest and continued. “Purim’s a Jewish holiday, you wear costumes and are supposed to get drunk so badly that you can’t tell between Haman the bad guy and Mordechai the good guy.”
While Des paused and rubbed his goatee, the Librarian snorted disdainfully. “Surely you do not mean to go to that party,” he said. “I do remember you telling me that you detest parties.”
“Purim’s an exception,” Des informed him, still grinning. “Wearing costumes is fun. Plus, I’ve the perfect costume.”
“Do I look like I care?” asked the Librarian, demonstratively sitting down near his tablet again. He lifted his cup of tea — a custom he could not avoid adopting after so many days in Des’ company — and sipped from it.
“Well, if you don’t,” said Des in an offended tone, “I’ll just go by myself.”
“By all means, be my guest.”
**
And so it turned out that a while later, a somewhat-annoyed Des wearing a medico della peste mask, a black robe and a wide-brimmed black hat, marched into the room. He looked around, spotted the cake and the children, and went to the opposite side of the room. Settling comfortably in an armchair, he propped his head on his knuckles and looked at the door, waiting to see if anyone he knew — or anyone famous enough for him to have heard of them — to come through it.

There was a pop of displaced air, and for a moment a tiny golden dragon hung in the centre of the room. A moment later, it disappeared again.

Some minutes later, the sound of drilling finally reached a peak. With a crash, a chunk of the generic surface wall fell inwards, and a tall, black-haired elf stepped over it.

"I can't believe they made a party this hard to find," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Without Hera, we'd never have gotten in."

Constance Illian-Sims stroked the head of the fire lizard on her shoulder. "She's a clever one, my little queen," she said. "All right, kids, come on. Don't loiter in the corridor."

"Especially not when we've just wrecked it," Dafydd chuckled as the Illian family trooped in. Tanfin, the eldest at seven years, was carrying Oleander, who was barely even one, and the three girls followed behind, five-year-old Jasmine leading Bella and Daphne by the hand. Once all five were through, Constance took a moment to look around.

"Well, it certainly seems like a party," she said. "What's it for, again?"

"'Purim'," Dafydd supplied with a shrug. "I figured you'd know - it's your world."

Constance snorted. "What, and you know everything about Arda?"

"Well, actually-"

"Daddy," said Tanfin in his serious voice.

"Yes, Tanfin?"

"Why didn't we use the door?"

Dafydd and Constance looked where their son was pointing. Sure enough, across the room was a set of double doors standing invitingly open.

"Well, Tanfin," Constance said, not bothering to hide her smirk, "it's like this: your daddy is an idiot."

"Hang on, there!" Dafydd exclaimed. "You-"

"Cake! Cake!" And the conversation ended abruptly as Bella noticed the hamantaschen.