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I know the overwhelming majority of PPC writers are female (and, as a result, so are most PPC agents), but, surely, having another agent as a Lust Object is not unheard of, right? I want to know if it's normal for me Agent Cal to feel something for Acacia.

Osbert shrugged again, finishing off the glass of brandy he had ordered. "I hate to admit it, but I'm old, I'm not as quick or as strong as I used to be, so it took a bit before I could really catch up to him. Eventually I managed to get him to take a risk that opened him up and let me take him down."

Thinking for a moment, Osbert realised he hadn't seen the serious young boy after declaring his training complete. The length of training tended to be the individual trainer's jurisdiction; they allowed the recruit to leave whenever they thought the recruit was ready. Reece, however, hadn't taken long at all for Osbert to figure that he was ready to tackle missions. That had been before he knew the Flowers would put him in DAVD, though. "I never did find out much about him, once he left my training room I never saw him again. Do you know if he was any good as an Agent, before the Invasion?"

Luke smiled a little, thinking back to when he'd first met the serious boy. "I always knew he could take care of himself. One of my friends was partnered with him in DAVD, and from what he said, Reece was damn near unsquickable. DAVD was probably the best place for someone like that. I tried to get him to talk about how the heck he got so tough once, but all I got was 'I lived in a rough neighbourhood'."

The tall man shrugged. "Either he was just naturally gutsy, or he was glossing over a lot of details." An amused expression crossed his face. "He gave you a tough time? I'm impressed."

"I never got that. A lot of the recruits these days are barely older than the Suethors, sometimes even younger. I still remember when all Agents were adults. Not to hold anything against the younger generation, but I think it should still be like that, sometimes. They're just kids, they shouldn't have to deal with it."

Osbert smirked a little after saying this, bemused. "Maybe that's just the talk of an old man who, were he sane, would be some Agent's grandfather, and not an Agent himself. Reece? Agent Nalan, right? I remember him, he did surprisingly well in my training. Already a pretty good shot when I got to him, could take care of himself well. Actually gave me a tough time for...oh, five seconds, when I tested his hand-to-hand skill. He was too young to die in something like this, though I thought the same when I found out they put him in DAVD of all things."

"Thinking about it, though, I feel like there were people who deserved to make it more than I did. The younger ones, for example. I mean, I'm old enough to be a dad to some of the young ones. I know that doesn't mean so much to you, probably, but it gets to me. Like, there was a kid I knew who worked in DAVD. Reece, his name was. Pretty tough for a teenager, but still..."

Luke shook his head. "He didn't deserve to go."

Osbert could only offer a shrug, giving what opinion he had. He couldn't claim to have all the answers, but that was how he looked at it. "Either way, they're in a better place."

"Ending up in FicPsych is not the way I want to go," he said when Osbert mentioned that department. "One of my partners wound up in there a while ago. The last time I heard of her, she thought she was the reincarnation of Lily Potter from Potterverse."

He looked around at the party. "I can think of at least one person who'd have appreciated the atmosphere, yeah," he sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly.

Casting a glance at Langston, he realised the Agent wasn't getting out on his own power. It was pathetic, but he supposed he could understand somewhat. Still, he hated seeing an Agent who was made of such stern stuff reduced to the quivering mass of alcoholism hunched over the bar not too far from himself.

"Heh, we could've used a few flamethrower-crazies during the fighting," he admitted, looking back to Luke. "Even if we would've had to cart 'em away to FicPsych afterward. Still, we won, so I guess Makes-Things and the others can rest in peace, now." Looking around at the party, which still hadn't slowed down any, he appeared to be thinking about something.

"Hm. Not the most solemn way to respect the dead, but isn't this what they would've wanted? I hope it is."

Luke debated whether or not to get another drink, but on regarding Marcus' current state, he decided against it. He might be able to hold his drink all right, but if he was going to carry his friend back to his RC, he needed to be sober himself.

Turning back to Osbert, he just shrugged. "At least you had some company. I ended up barricading myself into somebody's RC for the month. Ended up coming close to going flamethrower from sheer boredom by the time I got the call." He stretched a little.

"Wish I could have done something about Makes-Things, though. I liked the guy."

Osbert seemed sobered by this, but not overtly upset. It was hard to be, after forty years on the job. Asking for another glass of brandy, he sipped lightly, being careful not to let it go to his head while he thought. "I lost a lot of friends, too. Makes-Things was the last non-Flower Agent who was here as long as I was. Got to know him real well, and then he was the first to go."

He sighed, shaking his head at the memory. "I couldn't do anything, I was still training that day's batch of recruits when it happened. I got as many people into the training rooms as I could, set up a watch, and sealed the doors once I figured there was enough food and the like for us to last however long it'd be before a cure was made. When the Sues came in, I'd already been getting the survivors out of the RCs and training rooms. Damn things tried to take Operations, cut the head off of our resistance before we could put up a fight." A laugh escaped him, grinning a bit as he took another sip. "Woulda worked, too, but we were ready for 'em. I pretty much gave everyone a weapon, gathered up everyone who'd been in the area and anyone who we ran into that looked like they could hold a weapon. Gave those bitches hell!"

Osbert couldn't help but break into a bit of a cackle, there. "Most of the trainers are either people with military experience from the outside, or former Action Agents who were taken off the beat, whether due to age or injury. On our own we probably could've cleared the whole place out, let alone with the bunch of recruits and Agents we brought with us. Sent 'em running with their tails between their legs."

Luke rubbed his eyepatch reflectively, thinking back to the whole thing. "When I got the Sub Rosa's message I came out fighting. Didn't pay too much attention to where I was most of the time; it was more a case of killing Sues and helping out other Agents."

He let out a bitter little laugh. "I guess it was hell. Bitches killed some damn good friends of mine. Nearly got me, too, and my partner."

Osbert went quiet after that, thinking better of making his true opinion known. Giving Celinus a look, though, he thought of something. That black scarf around the eye, the large build, the red hair...had he seen him around, before? there was something unquestionably familiar about him.

"I don't think we've met, Celinus, but were you in Operations, during the beginning of the fighting? If it's not too sensitive a subject, I mean. That little war was hell on us all."

"She's called Jessie Lancaster. Red hair, damn near indiscriminately homicidal, and tries to kill me on a regular basis. And if a guy so much as looks the wrong way at her... well, it gets messy."

"Not to brag, but I think it'd be safe to say I'm one of the better Agent trainers; a lot of them just stick something pointy in the recruit's hand and throw them into an RC. Just who would your partner be?" Arching an eyebrow, Osbert tried to think of the particularly memorable cases he'd seen come through his training room. He had enough trainees on a regular basis that it was hard to remember any one in particular on most days. Celinus' mention of his partner had got him curious, though, so he tried to think of if he had met her before. Unlikely, if this was his first meeting with Celinus himself.

"Sounds like you really do know your stuff," he replied. "Don't use Bleeproducts much myself, I got used to coping without them except for the really horrible stuff. Fortunately, I don't get much of that... and yes, I'm aware that I'm inviting it." He glanced up at the ceiling as if warning the Ironic Overpower to back off.

"My partner never seemed to need any tutorials in hitting hard, I have to say." A wry smile crossed his face. "I should have got her to come to you for the other stuff, though."

By now, Langston was singing something to himself, but Osbert really couldn't understand many of the words due to the alcohol muddling the Agent's brain. The tone was recognisable as Eric Bogle's "The Green Fields of France", but not much could be clearly made out. Returning his attention to Celinus, he gave the large Agent a nod.

"I prefer field work myself, it's much more exciting, and my family has always preferred to take care of things personally." Osbert sighed, adjusting his glasses and helmet. "Still, at least this way I'm putting some backbone in these Agents. I'm not letting them out into the missions until they can shoot straight, hit hard, operate a Console without blowing it up, and don't need to run to Bleeproducts every time something goes wrong."

"I suppose when you're working in here it tends to get a bit frustrating. Not like being out roaming the Canon worlds. But look on the bright side, eh? You don't have to get soaked, frozen, roasted and whatnot." He leaned against the bar nonchalantly.

However, he couldn't argue that it was a very pleasant surprise. Holding the woman closer, he nodded, leading her out of the Store. It took a few moments to locate the proper room, but once he found the door he opened it, allowing Cassie to go in first before following her.

Osbert scoffed, treating what had been a decision made by the Flowers years ago with visible contempt. He still remembered treating the decision with total incredulity, even if he'd taken his reassignment as a trainer of new Agents with dignity and gratitude.

"I was about forty years old when I was recruited," he told Luke, after searching through his memories. "I'd grown a pretty thick skin by then, and a badfic is really nothing compared to some of the things you can face in World One. Back then there wasn't much of a workload, either. After a while, though, it all becomes just another job, you get desensitised." Pausing for a moment, the old man couldn't help a small chuckle. "Trust me," he said. "Sometimes it's more frustrating teaching a recruit how to properly fire a gun than it is to charge a Sue. I sometimes wish I was back out there."

Okay, I get it.

5. Is it bad procedure to charge for both OOCness and character replacement?

Who needs accuracy when you have blast radius?

What about the Ralph Bakshi version of LotR? You know, the one that did verily suck. I've never seen any badfic set in that one, but if there was, would we kill it?

There's a movie theatre near where I live with the initials PPC. 'Tis fun.