zingenmir: (Agent Dawn McKenna)
[personal profile] zingenmir

March 2008 HST:

“I have two reasons for coming here,” said Tadkeeta. “One, to let you know I'm now working with Agent Eclectica.”

“Agent who?” asked Tawaki.

“Eclectica. A new recruit and a ripoff on The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy's Eccentrica Galumbits.”

“Where is T'Zar?” asked Melpomene.

“Assigned to work with Agent—”


-Episode 16: Fighting Emotions, by Tawaki

If anyone had cared to take a closer look at one of PPC HQ’s corridors—you know the one, it forms a corner by the Big Thorn’s office on every odd Tuesday—they would have spotted the man.

He was a young man, really, or at least, he certainly seemed that way. He wore enough chains dangling from his black clothes (which were chiefly made of leather) to garrotte several elephants, and greatly resembled a quite blond, very content and exuberant Matt Smith—except, of course, when he was scowling. (The blondness remained no matter his expression…at least, under normal circumstances.) He was scowling now, and talking aloud in a pronounced Cockney accent as he dragged a large duffle bag down the corridor.

“Reassigning partners, just like that, I ask you, is it too much to ask for some stability? Not that I mind, really, but I’d like to at least be asked, or given a choice.” The Cockney accent was beginning to slip; he sounded more like the Eleventh Doctor with every word. “I mean, I liked Ancel, really, I did—well, when he wasn’t in one of his moods, anyway, I hate dealing with people’s moods—what I mean is—wait, who am I talking to?” The young man—he called himself Abaddon these days—glanced around curiously before shaking his head. “Oh well. Silence is boring. And the walls could be sentient…ooh…” He stepped closer to one wall to investigate, and found himself staring at the door of RC 7221. “Damn.” He started to glance over his shoulder for his parents, but caught himself. “You’re worse than a TARDIS, HQ, did you know that? At least with a TARDIS you can be sure of when you’re being played with—Oi!” He skipped backward hurriedly as the door opened, narrowly missing his chin. “Careful!”

“My apologies.” The female Vulcan—dressed casually in a sweatshirt with the letters ‘VSA’ across the front, and possessed of truly olive skin, dark eyes, and curly hair of a deep brown color with hints of red in it—regarded him levelly. “I have yet to acquire the materials to make a sign warning that this door opens out. May I inquire as to your presence here?”

Abaddon took a deep breath, and straightened his back. “Agent T’Zar?”

“I am T’Zar.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m your new partner.”

T’Zar frowned minutely. “I was not informed of—”

Perfectly on cue, RC 7221’s console began to [bip!] annoyingly. The Vulcan turned sharply, and approached it, silencing the [bip!]ing and leaning down to read the message.

Seconds later, she straightened and turned back. “Agent Abaddon?”

“That’s me, yeah.”

“There is a second bedchamber for your use. I have already taken the one with the blue door, as it is better suited to my needs. Had I known I was to receive a new partner so promptly, I would have waited.”

Abaddon blinked at her. “…er, just how long ago did you move in?”

T’Zar’s expression continued to be void of emotion. “I have occupied this response center for 2.19 hours. My previous partner and I agreed it would be best for me to be the one to leave. My possessions are not difficult to move.”

“Oh. Right.” Abaddon nodded. “Right, then! I’ll just—bring my things in, yeah?”

“That would be optimal.”

“Right. Yes. Er, nice to meet you.”

T’Zar raised her eyebrow, and then sighed so minutely that Abaddon nearly thought he’d imagined it. “And you,” she replied, with the barest hint of reluctance. “I will go to DoSAT to advise a Technician that this RC is in need of a working replicator; I find that Technicians rarely respond as promptly to a message sent via console as they do to a personal visit. Upon my return, it is likely that we will have a mission. Until then.” And with that she left, leaving Abaddon to watch her go.

“Well! I’m sure we’ll get along fine.” The young man slung his duffel over one shoulder with a slight grunt of effort, and walked through the door, which closed behind him. He eyed the pristine RC, and eventually shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t weighed down by the duffle bag. “At least Vulcans are known for their lack of moods; should be a nice change.”

And with that, Agent Abaddon of the Department of Geographical Aberrations hitched the duffle higher and headed towards the purple door to the left of the blue one which, he hoped, opened into the second bedroom.

End interlude.


Disclaimer: Agents T’Zar and Abaddon are mine; T’Zar was created by Tawaki, and has since been adopted by me. The PPC was created by Jay and Acacia, and the rest of this disclaimer will be filled in soon, should I find anything else to add.


Part 1, in case you’ve lost it and want to go back.


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