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[personal profile] rc45
Title: The Upholding of Honour
Authors: [livejournal.com profile] agenttrojie and [livejournal.com profile] tea_fiend
Rating: R
Summary: A PPC interlude. Once upon a time there was a newbie on the Board who, when inventing his first Agent character, decided to invent an incident in which his Agent challenged the Department of Bad Slash to a squickfic reading contest, and which his Agent won. Established writers for the Department of Bad Slash were understandably a bit miffed by the insinuation that a newbie from some other department would be better at dealing with bad smut than their Agents were. Thus the idea for this interlude was born. It was recently unearthed in the uncharted depths of gdocs, and is posted here for posterity.



Summer 2009 HST

'You're kidding.' Agent Paddlebrains was most emphatic. She leaned back against the Console, subconsciously daring it to beep, as she lit a cigarette from the smouldering remains of the previous.

'I swear,' Agent Trojanhorse announced, assuming a suitably serious pose and striking an arm across her chest, 'by the holy name of Kurt Cobain. The weasel thinks he can take us on.'

'Snowballs in hell have nothing on what we will do to the poor lad,' Pads decided, taking a drag and blowing a smoke ring.

'Don't let anyone hear me say this, but are you sure?' Trojie frowned at her partner. 'I saw you after the first time, remember. And I've seen what happens every time you catch a glimpse of your own chest in the mirror these days.'

'I can handle it.' Pads folded her arms defensively across the aforementioned chest. 'Just so long as I don't think of warty... foot-long... Orc-ridden... lavender... ack!' She fell to the floor, shuddering, although it said a lot for her squick-proofing experiences in the DBS that she was still able to keep hold of the cigarette. She puffed away frantically, desperately trying to dispel the images of pendulous, veiny breasts.

'But you see why I ask the question,' said Trojie kindly, hauling her partner back to her feet and installing her in a chair. 'I think training is in order.'

'Only if you train with me,' said Pads. 'I'm not doing it alone.'

'Of course I will. How do you think I'm going to get past the horrible inaccuracies if I don't train?'

'I didn't realise your biological accuracy needs keeping in training,' Pads commented. 'I thought it was sort of innate.'

'I can handle squick just fine. Most things people think are gross are actually really interesting. But inaccuracies get to me. You know that. That's why you won't watch films with me any more. Anyway, we're going to need this,' said Trojie. She got up and made her way to her cupboard. From the depths of this unknowable pit of stolen goods and suspicious objects she hauled a dusty folder. Wiping it off, she presented it to Pads.

'I printed it out years ago, after my ... bad year,' she said, referring to her brief period of insanity back in 2006. 'Just to remind myself that no matter how bad things got, it can always get worse. Go on, open it. I made some diagrams and pasted them in the back.'

'I thought we'd had the birds and the bees talk,' Pads said, stroking the edges of the pages in question but not quite daring to look. 'I know enough specifics. Honestly. Especially since we had that talk about the dairy.'

Trojie threw her partner a sidelong glance. 'I have seen what you do to the semi-skimmed when you think I'm not looking.'

'It was asking for it!'

'Nevertheless.'

'Nothing good ever follows "nevertheless"...'

'Nevertheless,' said Trojie with a meaningful look in her eye, 'you are going to have to open that folder if you want to win this bet and restore the honour of the Department of Bad Slash. Which you'd better, 'cause I sure as hell do. We don't have so much honour that we can afford to go throwing it around like water. And stop molesting the milk, alright? That's your last warning, otherwise it's soy for you.'

'Soya is the semen of Satan,' Pads muttered, but she flipped through the folder nonetheless.

'It's the semen of no-one,' said Trojie. 'I hope. Now read that paperwork.'

Pads looked at the first page, and blanched. She flicked through the rest of it as if she were looking for something, and muttered under her breath as she did so. Finally she reached the annotated diagrams at the back.

'This ... you have printed out the entirety of every Ubersquick Legendary Badfic known to the PPC and stuck it in a folder. I'm amazed the thing hasn't spontaneously combusted.'

'I think you'll find C*l*br**n begins at page number 69, amusingly,' said Trojie, ignoring her partner's accusatory tone.

'Yes.' Pads poked the section in question. 'It's the really thick bit, isn't it? With the laminated pages.'

'They're all laminated,' Trojie pointed out. 'You can't be too careful in this department.'

'Extra laminated,' Pads corrected. 'With, oh, how pretty.' She prodded the nearest page suspiciously. 'With pretty little sparkly tags that you can pull out to make the diagrams move. Have I mentioned recently that you're diseased?'

'Yes. Frequently. This aids your quest how, exactly?'

'Not at all.' Pads sat back, and stared thoughtfully at the annotated diagrams. 'I just like to know what I'm letting myself in for.'

'Well, I'm not sparkly,' Trojie said, 'if that makes you feel any better.'

'I didn't think for a second that you were. You're not an ex-Sue ... Are you?'

'No, I am not. Now quit your yowling and read the damn thing.'

Pads complied, scowling. Trojie surreptitiously got out a bucket and placed it by her partner's chair. After a moment's thought she tiptoed over to the fridge and removed all the dairy products from it and hid them under her bed.

'Ye gods, this is gruesome.'

'This is necessary,' Trojie corrected. 'Not only is it crucial training for the upholding and maintenance of a highly esteemed department, it's also essential for ensuring we don't have a repeat of, for example, the Pain incident.'

Pads twitched at that, and Trojie reached out, patting her partner's arm in a comforting sort of way.

'You'll be alright,' Trojie decreed, her tone daring Pads to protest. 'I've trained you well. You even handled Paedo!Harry.'

That was perhaps a little too much, for Pads did not so much squeak at that point, but rather executed a sort of full-body flail, encompassing much flapping of wrists, gnashing of teeth, and disturbingly high-pitched yelps. Trojie upped the pace of her comforting pats.

'You'll be fine. I promise. Now, come on. We have a departmental meeting to attend.'

'The DBS has departmental meetings?' Pads managed to shriek through the agonised yelps and clutchings of stomach.

'It does now.'

The departmental meeting took place in the Really Very Tiny Auditorium, although really it could have been held in an RC: the only participants being Trojie and Pads, Cray and Gypsy, and Luxury. Presumably all the other members of the department had managed to find excuses to be elsewhere.

'First things first, do we all accept the minutes of the last meeting?' asked Gypsy, as chairwoman.

The last time we actually all met up was at an AHAIRQL match. I'm not sure there were any minutes, said Cray, delighting in her psychic voice. 'But we can accept them anyway if you like,' she finished vocally. This alternating trick was still entertaining her.

'I'll go with that,' said Trojie. 'Business of the day, then. Over to you, Pads.'

'Some newbie-Agent is saying he can beat any member of our Department at surviving reading C*l*br**n out loud,' said Pads. 'We propose we show him he's wrong.'

'And if none of us survive?' asked Gypsy.

'Pshaw.' Trojie pulled out her trusty anatomical diagrams. 'We'll be fine. Reason being, we've had practice with squick, all of us. He hasn't. And we're all in this department because of a natural tendency to be good at this. Well,' she amended, looking around at her audience, 'mostly we're in this department because we were pressganged, but the fact that we've survived this long must be due to something!' She thumped her hand on her knee. 'So I say we accept this bet!'

The assembled Bad Slashers looked at each other, then at Trojie.

'We've got a really nasty Potterverse fluff ficlet lined up,' said Cray. Annoyingly, that excuse was likely to be true, and the Bad Het agents shuffled off, leaving Trojie, Pads and Lux alone in the Auditorium.

'Well, I'm in!' said Lux excitedly. 'Hand me those diagrams, and get out of that uniform. We've got practising to do!'

'Lux,' said Pads. 'We're not re-enacting C*l*br**n, we're reading it out.'

Luxury pouted. 'Not even an interpretive dance?'

Trojie and Pads looked at each other. Pads shrugged. How much harm can it do?, the gesture seemed to say. Trojie quirked an eyebrow. Lux? Interpretive dancing? A lot. But it could be a good weapon.

'Okay,' Trojie said to Lux offhandedly. Then both she and Pads shared a sudden, horrible thought, and in whiplash unison cried:

'But not naked!'
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