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"Bloody nag," he grumbled over his shoulder at his brightly grinning partner. He adjusted his glasses and smiled sheepishly at Cass and Nat.

"Hey there. It's, uh, it's been a while."

I already know that a disguise generator disguise can become permanent under certain conditions, but is it ok to use that to permanently change my agent's species?

In the middle of it all, a short and fairly rotund Irishman made his way inside. Smoothing down hia hair with his hand, Gerald Murphy, best known by most as "Small Murphy" due to the fact that he was only about 5'4, looked around his competitor's store almost nervously. It was true that he had made a lot of money off of the Invasion, but he had still thought he should at least show some respect by attending the memorial, especially when his giant of a brother threatened to smack him upside the head if he didn't. As the 6'10 James Murphy (or "Big Murphy") squeezed through the doorway, the brothers nodded at each other, before Gerald pulled out a flask of whiskey. While they had each decided to make sure they were about as well-dressed as they could be without being out of uniform, Gerald had never been dissuaded from bringing his own drink.

"C'mon, James," he said in his thick Irish accent, looking up at his brother while taking down a swig. James really didn't look much like him, sometimes, it was almost as if they weren't really brothers. "Like you said, least we can do is pay our respects."

As the two Irish businessmen started to mingle with the crowd, Marcus made his entrance, followed by Zodfang. Instead of the usual banter, both were silent. In fact, the past week Marcus hadn't so much as said two words to anyone, even during missions, only really talking when he had to read out a charge list. The hulking Ork next to him had been trying to get Marcus fired up and talking again, but he was now silent, mostly because Marcus had quite bluntly told him that he'd blow Zodfang's head off if the Ork went about any of his usual antics. Nodding to his partner, Marcus went off into the crowd, looking for anyone he knew. He felt eyes upon him, and even if they didn't say it, he couldn't help but feel like they agreed with him; he hadn't been there, he hadn't been able to fight, so what right did he have to be here? If he hadn't been suspended, were there people who had fallen that'd be alive now? Reece, Dylan, Seth, Steven, Alex, Travis...could he have saved at least any of those men? Any others? He should have been able to fight. Agents moved wordlessly out of his way, as he made his way to a bar some Agent had set up in the corner of the General Store. Dropping himself onto one of the makeshift seats, he let out a sigh, looking up at the youngish man behind the bar, a nasty scar from the Invasion's fighting obvious on his face.

"Oh, hello," the man said, slightly surprised. "Didn't see ya come up. What can I do ya for?" He asked, looking at the stash of drinks he had stored under the bar. "Bleepka, I bet? Bleepsynthe?"

"Nah," Marcus said, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd say this, but just give me the real thing. Leave the bottle, don't wanna bother you by continually askin' you to fill up a glass." It didn't take long before the Agent set down a glass and a bottle of vodka in front of Marcus, who nodded in gratitude as he poured some of the bottle's contents into the glass. He had told himself he'd never touch alcohol again, when being drunk was what got him into the PPC, but there were extenuating circumstances, he supposed.

Meanwhile, in another part of the crowd, agent Vincent Cyrus looked around sombrely. The rest of his group were standing around him, but they didn't seem particularly talkative either. Though he, Einarr, Greg, and Yuri had all made it out alive, it had been a close call, and they each knew several people who hadn't, especially on that barricade they'd set up. Vince supposed it had been worth it though; that barricade in the middle of the corridor had stopped a lot of Sue reenforcements from making their way to Medical when the fighting there was at its hottest. "This ain't much a party," he said, almost mumbling to himself. "Feels more like a funeral."

"Over a thousand warriors paved their way to Valhalla with the bones of the Sue invaders," Einarr said, nodding to himself. The wiry Agent and his long blond hair didn't look quite as imposing without his spear and bullet-deflecting shield, but Vince knew that even unarmed the former Viking was always holding himself ready for a brawl, even while at a party commemorating the deaths of one thousand Agents. "The atmosphere is appropriate, I believe. Anything else would be disrespectful."

"Da, the Norseman is right," Yuri said, his left hand unconsciously moving up to touch part of his ear that had been blown off in the fighting. The Russian usually seemed fairly jovial, seeing everything as better compared to fighting Hitler's forces on the Eastern Front, but even he was sobered. "Many people died here, da? We should show our respects."

"Suppose y'all're right," Vince replied with a shrug, looking to Greg. The former Gear, whose skills with the Longshot sniper rifle had saved them many times over, remained silent as he sipped from his drink. He was even less talkative than usual, it seemed, so instead Vince looked around to see if there was anyone else he knew in the immediate area.

... and started fiddling with the cork on the bottle.

'Actually,' she said after a few seconds. 'If anyone actually wants to drink some of this, can someone else please open it? Otherwise I'll just end up taking someone's eye out with a ballistic cork ...'

"Being descended from a canon character" isn't chargeable - if it was, we'd have to kill off most of the Silmarillion. "being descended from a canon character who had no offspring" may be chargeable, depending on how definitely said character had no children. Neither is reason enough to assassinate on their own, but the second is a charge worth adding to the official list, if it isn't on there already.

As for the story, I'd definitely call it killable. There's a whole pack of sues, the other things are icing on the cake. (yummy cake)

"Weird, the way we do this sort of thing, innit?" Deryn took a sip of her drink and grimaced. "No, thanks, think this is enough alcohol for me for now."

"I might have one, if that's all right," Leas said. "Cheers."

"Poppies is more traditional," she remarked. "Or rosemary."

Apart from anything else (including logistical difficulties with reaching her fingers to break them, given the distance between our countries of residence), how is she supposed to cowrite with me if I break her fingers?

But I personally have no opinion. *shrug*

I was reading the prologue to the Department of Bad Parody (regrettably, the only DBP story that exists), and it mentioned a Head of Department called the Kelp. He doesn't seem to head up any department that I know of, but there are three Divisions that lack heads: DAVD Intelligence, DAVD Medical, and DTO, Historical Inaccuracies Division. Should we decide which of those he heads?

I mean, have you seen GLADOS's recipe?

Your computer has merely become infatuated with another operating system: GLaDOS. No worries, however.

Please ensure that your computer does not have access to portal technology, and so long as you do that, you will be fine.

If however, your computer does have access to portal technology, you will need to dismantle it piece by piece and to make sure successful dismantling has taken place, destroy those pieces in fire. It does not need to be the lava of Mt Doom, but it can help.

And if you do spy any cake, remember, moist and delicious though it may be, it is still a lie.

(-JulyFlame)

"YAY!" said Krisp. "We're here!"
The Infernal Trio approached and took a glass each. It wasn't time yet to borrow an entire bottle for them three. Just kidding.

'Hey guys,' said the Bad Slasher, smiling round the room. She perched on the edge of a set of shelves, sniffer-dog settling down beside her. 'Happy Anniversary, I guess.' She pulled a bottle of champagne and a dog-eared cardboard box of champagne flutes from her Bag. 'Who fancies a celebratory one of these?'

I think my computer really is under the control of GLADOS, because it just listed these ingredients:
one 18.25 ounce chocolate cake mix
one can prepared coconut pecan frosting
3/4 cup vegetable oil
4 large eggs
one cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
3/4 cup butter or margarine
1 2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 cups all purpose flower
don't forget garnishes such as:
fish shaped crackers
fish shaped candies
fish shaped solid waste
fish shaped dirt
fish shaped Ethel benzine
pull n' peel licorice
fish shaped volatile organic compounds
and sediment shaped sediment
candy coated peanut butter pieces; shaped like fish
one cup lemon juice
alpha resins
unsaturated polyester resin
fiberglass surface resins
volatile malted milk impoundments
9 large egg yokes
12 medium geosynthetic membranes
one cup granulated sugar
an entry called: "How To Kill Someone With Your Bare-Hands"
2 cups rhubarb; sliced
2/3 granulated rhubarb
1 Tbsp all-purpose rhubarb
1 tsp grated orange rhubarb
3 Tbsp rhubarb; on fire
1 Large rhubarb
1 cross Bohr hole electromagnetic imaging rhubarb
2 Tbsp rhubarb juice
adjustable aluminum head positioned
slaughter electric needle injector
cordless electric needle injector
injector needle driver
injector needle gun
cranial caps
and it contains proven preservatives, deep penetration agents, and gas and oder control chemical's that will deodorize and preserve putrid tissue.


I believe that if I did make this cake, it would explode in the oven. Or kill me if I ate it.

drowning IT in Bleepka. Whatever.

Meanwhile, the Infernal Trio tried to forget the incident by drowning in Bleepka, Bleepsinthe, Bleepnapps and Bleepquila. Krisp was busy socializing with everybody he could find, especially if they were female or if they were sitting alone in a corner.
South and Whatev mingled in the conversations. The Trio was enjoying itself. It was almost like the old days with the other tall ships.

First were Cassie and Nat, accompanied by Kelvin as usual. Although the two girls couldn't really say they knew anybody from the Invasion last year, they'd taken the opportunity to meet people and have a couple of drinks - and pay their respects to the Agents whom they knew had to have died. They snagged a Bleepka cocktail each and mingled with the crowd, with Kelvin trailing behind them sipping at a glass of wine. For some reason, the Elf got nervous in crowded places and preferred to stick to the company of people he knew.

Not far behind them came two people who seemed to give off the impression that they didn't want to be associated. The taller of the two, a solidly-built man in his mid-thirties with auburn hair and an eyepatch who went by the name of Luke Celinus, looked a little serious as he entered. However, once he was able to mingle with the crowd he began to relax and flirt somewhat with the majority of the female Agents he met.

The smaller Agent, a woman coming up for thirty with red hair and the name of Jessie Lancaster, rolled her eyes and headed in a completely different direction, intending to actually commemmorate the sad events of last year.

Finally, a Japanese man wearing the DAVD flashpatch and glasses came in. Quietly sneaking over to the drinks table, he lifted a glass in memory of his teenage partner, who had died in the catastrophe, and downed it. "Here's to you, Reece," he murmured.

and i know it is obsessed because of this:

GLADOS is an acronym for Genetic Lifeform And Disk Operating System

"Well, I'll take the white ones. Sorry, Krisp is being unstable today, I don't know what happened. Krisp, are you OK?" What' took three white roses and gave one each to South and Krisprolls.
"Well, I feel a bit better now. Thanks, What' and South."

"Why not," said Whatever. "Krisp, South, you can take some too."
They did.
"And Krisp, if you could avoid saying something stupid this time."
"Like what? 'If only I'd been there,' for example? Like being there mattered! It didn't last time! You kept saying that, but it didn't! I was there and..."
"Krisp, I wasn't thinking about that!"
"Krisp, are you OK?"
"Uh, well, yes, I guess so, well, doesn't matter, I'm OK now."

OOC: Krisp remembers winessing his mother's death. What' wasn't there and kept blaming himself for a while.

Maybe the Axis of Confectionary infected it through the crack in its screen. Random cake cravings are a sure sign of posession by the Pineapples.
...
Wait, how do you know it wants cake? Are you communicating with it through code embedded in multiple punctuation marks? -gasp- YOU'RE A SPY!!! You're working for THEM!
...
Oh, and if I'm wrong about the spy thing, I blame my subconscious for creating the whole conspiracy theory in the first place.

Anyway, Jane said: Would you like some cloth-and-plastic roses to commemorate the fallen? They're free, even the black and Anti-Lustin ones. We also have other cloth-and-plastic flowers, if you'd like...

They're free,

It should be 'He told himself to enjoy it while he can', rather than 'He told himself to enjoy himself while he can'. Especially as he is within the sight of curious Agents...