DISCLAIMER: The following story, 'Connecting The Dots', has been posted here to serve as an introduction to the Protectors of the Plot Continuum. If you enjoy it, Agents Falchion and Rashida's other missions can be found by searching Google for 'Falchion PPC'. All PPC stories are written by permission of the PPC community, which can be requested on the PPC Posting Board.
I do not own any of the continua featured in this mission. I do, however, own the characters Falchion (whose home continuum, Pokémon, belongs to Nintendo, Satoshi Tajiri and Game Freak) and Rashida Mafdetiti.
The badfic being sporked, "Rise of the Galeforces", belongs to myself and my friend georgemiser on DeviantART, like it or not; the fic can be found in the gallery of my DeviantART account, Shadow-Aspect, under the folder, "The Incredibles - Rise of the Galeforces".
Prologue: Moving In
Falchion had always liked his airspace. That was the way Skarmory in general had always been, being able to fly freely through the open sky, their armored bodies meaning next to nothing compared to their strength and vitality. So this one was naturally disappointed to learn that the hallways of the PPC Headquarters were far too short to allow flight under any reasonable capacity.
The indignity of being forced to walk from place to place was of little consequence to the Armor Bird Pokémon, however, for he knew that he was going to have air under his wings again pretty soon. It was simply a matter of waiting — even if it had already been three days.
His talons clicking upon the Generic Floor, Falchion was currently admiring the Floaters flashpatch, decked out with a nice little water lily flower print, mounted on his utility collar. The elastic black strap made for a snug fit but did not restrict his breathing, and aside from the patch, it also carried his Universal Translator and his Bag of Holding. He liked looking at the little details of things and any related activities thereof, such as counting each and every petal upon his flash patch insignia several times over as if making sure whomever made the badge got the number right. It also made for a convenient distraction in a place where you have to not think about your destination to get there.
As such, it didn't take long for him to reach the door of his designated RC. He checked the number — had he misheard that last digit upon receiving it? — before pecking at it several times. The door opened, allowing the winged Steel-type to step inside.
While most RCs had Generic Surfaces for walls, this one was a bit different. Someone had clearly covered most of the walls with an unidentifiable substance. Said someone happened to be taking care of the last few bare areas on the recently redecorated far side of the room.
"Um, hi," Falchion chirped hesitantly. "Is this RC #227?"
"No, this is Bad Slash," said the woman-headed, winged, oversized white cat who was — somehow — using the paintbrush she was holding in her forepaw with a surprising amount of skill, for someone apparently without opposable thumbs. "Of course you're in RC #227! It gives me such joy to think that you honestly got the number wrong."
Falchion felt a few droplets of something sticky — presumably Sar-Plasm, as FicPsych had told him to expect a lot of it — splatter onto the side of his head. He let out a squawk of surprise and tried to wipe the stuff off on the Generic Floor, as the same substance was apparently covering the walls of the RC rather like wet paint, and the Sphinx's previous statement had gotten a large splattering of it onto the wall as well. This agent was surely possessing of a pretty sharp tongue if she was going to use the stuff in that way.
"You missed a spot," he said after failing to wipe the stain off, indicating a bare patch of Generic Surface that was promptly covered with fresh Sar-Plasm. "And for the record, I was in the right place the moment I ran into you. I was told that I'd be training with you, funnily enough."
"What do you mean, 'funnily enough'?"
"You defeated me in battle three days ago. I thought you'd remember."
She froze, then slowly turned her head a full 180 degrees like an owl to stare at her new lodger. Her glare turned icy as she appraised her shiny new roommate for a full fifteen seconds. Falchion only stared back into her ruby-colored eyes.
"You," she growled finally. "I should've known they'd send me a new chew toy for the Word Worlds to play with. Those weeds must've learned quite a lot from what happened back at Internal Affairs, didn't they?"
Another globule of Sar-Plasm made a mess upon the Skarmory's face (with the rest of it staining the wall once again), and he gave up trying to wipe it off himself and headed over to the bathroom, wondering if he was capable of operating the shower without functional hands of his own. "Personally, I thought they were just fine. The Kudzu was nice enough, at least."
"Don't make me come over there," the woman-headed big cat muttered as she finished off coating the walls of the RC. "FicPsych has not been friendly to me in the slightest, and don't get me started on what Personnel did when they found out that I'd crippled two other agents."
Falchion had just managed to turn the shower handle with his beak when he stood up straight, realizing what she'd just said. For a moment, the only sound in the RC was the shower running.
"How long were they in Medical?" he asked, turning to face her with his head cocked rather like a robin hunting for worms.
"Four months. Give or take. One of them remains at the DIA, and the other is currently in need of a new partner. You do not want to know what the Character Replacement we… took care of… had done to his last one."
"Hey, I've got time," Falchion replied. "Maybe you could provide a detailed explanation about what hap — "
He never got to finish his sentence. For at that moment, some kind of device elsewhere in the RC chose that moment to give off a shrill, ear-splitting…
[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!]
Falchion screeched in alarm, stumbling back and tripping over his own feet before tumbling into the still-running shower. The Sar-Plasm thankfully hadn't dried and was easily washed away, but this came at the expense of his dignity. The Sphinx, on the other hand, simply growled like an angry Luxray, her hackles up and her ears folded back.
Fuming silently, she strode over and slammed her massive forepaw upon the big red button, nearly denting the console as the beeping stopped, and turned her head to glare towards the shower. "Excuse me? Do you want me to relive that experience all over again? Do you want me to go flamethrower-crazy too soon for general comfort? Do you want to be in the same RC as an angry lioness who won't hesitate to maul every fucking thing within a twenty-cubit radius? Then by all means, ask me to explain what happened. Ask me to relive that disastrous mission that led me to transfer here. Ask me, so I can tell you, be it in plain English or any of the languages inscribed upon the Nut-damned Rosetta Stone: NO! FUCKING! THANK YOU!"
The poor Armor Bird Pokémon was too busy flapping madly about in the shower to respond to the angry roar of her last few words, but after a few moments he managed to stand upright again, albeit with much slipping and sliding about on the wet floor. Regaining his balance and turning off the shower handle, he nervously stepped out, picked up a towel with his beak, and began drying his armor with it like a bird preening its feathers, trying to avoid his partner glaring at him spitefully as she took a few deep breaths.
"Sorry," he whimpered finally.
"It's fine," the Sphinx said after she'd managed to calm down. "It's just that I don't like being reminded of my past faults. So you know, behave yourself. By the way, my name is Rashida. And in case I do maul you to death before you properly acclimate yourself, I bid you a belated welcome to the PPC. May I know what they named you?"
"Falchion," the Skarmory responded as he put the towel away, trying to sound pompous but just barely covering up the fright his partner's recent outburst had given him. "That'sAgent Falchion to you, actually. Though I do have to wonder, what does it mean?"
"Well, a falchion is a type of one-handed, one-edged European sword," Rashida explained as she looked over the mission statement. "And the Falchion is the blade of Lucina from Fire Emblem: Awakening. Additionally, the term sounds similar to 'falcon', a bird of prey, and from what I've gathered from the source material on your home continuum, you appear to be partially based on the Stymphalian Birds of Greek mythology. So Falchion does sound fitting for an avian beast practically made of knives. Not that you look coordinated enough to use yours, of course."
"Hey, I thought it was fitting," Falchion replied as he strutted over to her. "At least it's better than Fawkes, for what it's worth."
"Fawkes?"
"The name I remember calling myself originally. Yeah, I know, totally unsuitable. I'll explain when we get the time. So, I guess this is my first mission?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"You mean we're busting a badfic right out of the Poké Ball?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Oooookay. Right then, do we just jump in or — ?"
"Not so fast, birdie," Rashida cut him off as she picked up some jewelry she'd brought from who knew where and stuffed it into her Bag of Holding. Somehow. "We need to stop by the Armory first."
"What? Where? Why?"
Her wild growl made him shudder slightly as the whiskers on her cheeks quivered slightly. "We've got a mega-crossover. An ugly one too, by the looks of it."
"So, what gives?"
She looked at the objective again, as though double-checking to make sure she was reading it correctly. "Well, this fic does operate within a 'hub' continuum. I assume you're familiar with The Incredibles, are you not?"
"You mean the best Pixar film of all time, the one that has never been topped before or since? Yeah, it's one of my favorite movies! And don't get me started on my childhood crush on Violet…"
Rashida's momentarily disturbed expression kept him from going any further. "Anyway," she continued after an awkward pause, "the badfic we're due to kill, which is titled 'Rise of the Galeforces' by the way, starts off by crossing over with Portal, and giving Aperture Science technology that they wouldn't normally bother with just to clone some long-dead Supers and kick-start the plot. That is the main 'intruder' franchise initially, though several others are thrown in a few chapters down the line."
"Okay, but I don't exactly see why we're going to need heavy artillery if a Pixar film about superheroes and a video-game about a deadly scientific testing facility are the major continuua involved."
"Not quite. Starting from Chapter 6, a third franchise takes over."
"Which one?"
The console [BEEEEEEEEEEP!]-ed again, but Rashida quickly shut it off. Her eyes seemed to flash white for a second as she turned to him, her expression foretelling certain doom for whomever who had written the fic. "Jurassic Park," she said darkly.
"Oh," Falchion said simply as his yellow eyes widened with fear. He'd heard of that franchise before — the one where resurrected fossil Pokémon rampaged through a theme park, right? Suddenly, Rashida's insistence on preparation sounded completely understandable.
"So, does this mean we're going to have to go to Isla Nublar?"
"Either that or Isla Sorna. I think I'll spare you any of the sordid details, seeing as you're still new to the PPC and I'd rather not dissuade you before your first mission."
"You've dissuaded me plenty, thank you," Falchion quipped as Rashida opened the door and led the way out of the freshly painted RC. "We're still going to go through with this, aren't we?"
"We have to," the Sphinx replied grimly. "We can't just sit around and wait for the badfic to take care of itself. What if a poorly written character is involved?"
"Lemme guess. If the story finishes itself without being KO'd, this 'poorly written character' will be free to invade another continuum, right? Like a parasite that's done infecting one host and propagating to another."
"You're catching on pretty quickly," Rashida observed with a slight tinge of admiration, exploiting the conversation as a convenient distraction as they made their way to the Armory. "Maybe you're not as entirely hopeless as I thought you were. Anyway, here at the PPC, we refer to such characters as 'Mary Sues' or 'Gary Stus'. And yes, they are indeed like parasites to some extent, mooching off of canons and stories and worlds to build their own shallow self-esteem. Everyone they meet either loves them unconditionally or is completely ruined by their existence alone. And, in some cases, the story practically warps to suit their needs."
"Well, 'canons' and 'stories' kinda go over my head," the armored bird replied, "but hey, I wouldn't be happy either if someone tried to mess up my life for their own benefit. May I ask if you could clarify what you just said, though, just in case?"
"Put it this way, Falchion. As a living being, a creature with a mind, a body, and a soul, I am perfectly fine on my own terms. I have fought tooth and claw to survive as long as I have. Others can interact with me freely, and I develop as a character based on my experiences with them."
"True."
"This same standard also applies to the organisms that exist inside of me. Every creature must have a proper balance of microorganisms living in or on them, cleaning up their hides or breaking down sustenance. My digestive bacteria and other symbiotes must and do abide by the ground rules of my biology to survive and maintain us both. Contrast this to, say, the tapeworm which may blunder into my alimentary system and start carelessly absorbing the nutrition I wish to obtain from my prey, or the tick which may cling pathetically to my skin for days on end just to steal my precious blood."
"So, to explain the analogy, you're the continuum, the symbiotes are the characters of the continuum, and the parasites are the Mary Sues?"
"And we, the agents of the PPC, are the oxpeckers that devour the ticks. The pills that poison the tapeworms. We work here because Mary Sues are harmful to the health of the worlds they inflict their leaching presence upon, and we must ensure that these worlds do not die by their filthy graspers." She sighed as they rounded their sixty-third corner. "Of course, parasites attempt to maintain the fitness of their host for as long as possible so they can successfully propagate. Mary Sues, on the other paw, can't care less about what happens to the world they're ruining. I'd call them parasitoids, as in wasps that lay their eggs in caterpillars, but even those life forms are often critical in keeping many pest species in check."
"So calling Mary Sues parasites, or parasitoids, would be an insult to such organisms? I guess that says a lot about how low the PPC thinks of them. The Sues, that is."
"Exactly. Ah, here we are."
The enormous, transparent, but unbelievably thick and durable-looking door slid up as the Sphinx and the Skarmory stepped into the room in question, which was filled with shelves' worth of weapons of every shape and size reaching up to the ceiling.
"So, what are we gonna need for this mission?" Falchion asked, trying not to feel so insignificant in comparison to the sheer amount of firepower stretched out before him.
"Two Heckler and Koch USP pistols with complimentary 31-round .45 ACP caliber ammo packs, and a switchblade for you."
"A switchblade? But I already have these wings here," Falchion pointed out, spreading said appendages to showcase the collection of crimson blades.
Rashida didn't even spare a glance at him as she started picking out the canonical weaponry. "We'll be disguised as humans. If you still want to slice things to ribbons, you'll need an edged weapon."
"Oh, okay," the armored bird replied sadly, folding his wings back up.
Rashida used the jewelry she'd brought earlier as payment for the equipment, but then Falchion decided to purchase a small metallic orb with two glowing orange lines crossing its front as well. Since he had no use for the complimentary Bleeprin packet from his PPC Beginner's Kit (birds and Bleeprin make lousy roommates), he traded it in for the glowy orb, picking it up with his razor-sharp beak while his partner fumed and sputtered incoherently.
"Are you kidding me?!" she roared as they headed out of the Armory. "We are not bringing that to this mission!"
"Bu' ish so glowy a' pre'ey, an I can' jus' s'ar' o' a missio' wif'out some'fin' 'o kee' me occu'fed!" It was so hard to speak while his mouth was full.
"Your apparent love for glowing things is not going to be useful at all, and if anything it'll draw everyone's attention if you don't use it properly. We're leaving it in the RC!"
"Bu' — "
"No ifs, ands, or buts. As soon as we get back, you are putting that thing away, period. Are we clear on this matter?"
He looked at the orb he was holding, and then sighed. "O'ka," he muttered.
In his defense, the glowing thing did help divert Falchion's attention long enough for the agents to make it back to RC #227. The Sar-Plasm was almost dry when the two of them entered, and Falchion set the orb on a random shelf.
"So, did you say we're gonna be disguised as humans?" Falchion asked. "How does that work? Do we need to buy masks and suits or something?"
Rashida gave him her best "Really, now? REALLY?" look before punching in a few commands on a specific part of the console with her forepaw. "There's a Disguise Generator built into the console," she explained. "You'll need to learn how to use it if you want to be successful on the job. Just enter whatever disguise you feel is necessary as long as it's consistent with the canon in question."
"Human, right?" Falchion asked, to which Rashida nodded. The Skarmory then proceeded to peck at the keyboard with his beak, repeating what he'd seen Rashida type in albeit with his own specifications for ethnicity, appearance, clothing, accessories, etc.
Once the disguises were set, Rashida bade him to move aside so she could press the correct sequence of buttons for mission entry, causing a portal to appear in the center of the room. "The Combined Character Analysis Device, neuralyzer, video camera, and notebook and pen should be in your bag along with your pistol and knife. I've got the rest of the firearms, the temporal anchor, and the remote portal device. Are you ready, Agent Falchion?"
"Oh, I was born ready," he replied with a confident smirk. "After you?"
She spared a glower at him for a moment, and then stepped through the portal the console had created. As she vanished into the fic, Falchion looked at the glowy orb from earlier, then back at the portal with an expression of doubt. Why was he beginning to feel that this mission was not going to end well? Of course, facing an angry T. rex would most certainly be fatal if you made one mistake, but there was no backing out now, not with so many continuua smushed together. More importantly, though, was he really going to need that orb? Or was Rashida right to ask him to leave it at the RC?
He snuck the orb into his bag anyway before stepping through the portal. Just in case.