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Deep in the headquarters of the PPC, there was a Response Center. Well, there were many Response Centers, but this one lacked burn marks or noticeable stains. It silently bided its time, knowing that one day it would have a collection of battle-scars to rival that of any room in the entire labyrinth! Perhaps its first would be from a fire, or an explosion! Perhaps a great battle would be fought within its very walls! Perhaps-


A plastic container bumped against the door frame, leaving a slight scratch on the Generic Grey material.


Well, that would probably do. The owner of the container carefully balanced it on her knee so she could get a better grip. “New home!” Agent Chalk called out to the bare walls as she wrestled the container through the doorway. “Jenka, hurry up! We might get a mission any second now!” With a grunt, she set the container onto the ground and kicked it into a corner. She could set up her consoles later.


A rather grey man slipped in behind the excitable girl, balancing two such containers over his shoulders. “I doubt it. The Console isn't plugged in,” he said in a rasping voice. His frame would have towered over the girl's if he weren't slouched over so much. He set down the containers and began to search through one of them. “Why did you even pack a raccoon-tail hat, anyway?” he asked before retrieving a pill case and shaking out some of its contents into a stitched-up hand.


“I might need it in the future,” Chalk explained as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. At some point she had climbed up onto the top of the bunk bed (the only piece of furniture other than the Console) and was beating the pillows into a state resembling fluffiness. “When you find the pens, will you toss one up to me? My Charizard got smudged.” She let one arm dangle over the edge of the bed and used the other to point out the deficiency.


“As did the unicorn it's toasting, I see.” Jenka sat down on the unclaimed bunk and stared suspiciously at the Console. He had heard stories about the infamous device, though he felt the one about sentience was exaggerated. Surely it wasn't a disguised robot hell-bent on destroying the sanity of unaware Agents. He only believed the one about explosions because the Agent who told him it had showed him an impressive scar to go with it. And the one about it being a secret eavesdropping device for the Flowers had to be false, but even so... Bah, what was he worrying about? It wasn't even plugged in!


No sooner had he thought that than an earsplitting [BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!] rang out, followed shortly by a thump and a yelp from the top bunk. Apparently, the stories weren't all false.

Guess who joined the PPC? Here's hoping I won't screw everything up with my very presence.


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December 2012

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