The cover story for the trashmaids was weirdly similar to the reality, but rather than it being a magical colony microbe, the video that played on Curt’s phone showed a story of an extremely weird fish species. The fictional fish apparently used corpses as a nursery of sorts, laying eggs in whatever unlucky John Doe had sunk to the bottom of the river, and as the fish hatched, they’d slowly worm their way into the body, eating their way through it as they grew larger. And all these little fish wiggling about inside a body could, of course, make it seem like a dead body was moving. A perfectly viable…

‘-is that there’s rarely a good time to make a “Keeping up with the Cardassians joke,’ Curt said, then held up his “work stuff, be quiet” hand and tapped his earpiece. ‘O’Connor.’ Stef quickly looked down at herself, made sure that there were no snack remnants on her uniform, just in case it was time to head out into the outside world, and sat like an attentive puppy, waiting to hear what they were doing next. ‘I’ll loop in Agent Ryan,’ he said, ‘we’ll need- Talk to Agent Jones and see which of his teams will be best. Send the location to Stef, and let them know we’ll be onsite…

The eight days she had been an agent were surely some kind of microcosm of what the rest of her life would look like. Breakfast in the morning, at a time too early for pale hackers to be awake. Mostly it was Curt, greeting her with a coffee and his stupid, bright, morning-person fresh face.  He’d knock. She’d groan like a zombie. She’d reach out from under the covers and accept the coffee – and at least the coffee was to her specification – and he’d sit on the end of her bed, and “accidentally” drop piles of paperwork on her quilt-covered legs until she sat up and paid attention.…

If pressed, he wouldn’t even have been able to name the city he was in. The architecture and time of day allowed him the probable answer that he was somewhere in Fairyland, but beyond that…nothing. Just one more area of ignorance. One more subject in which he was deficient. The fairy woman shot over the last ring of suburbs approaching the city. Jonathan tried to apologize for bleeding on her, but rushing air ate his words, so he kept silent. She banked to the right, dipped a little, and their destination became obvious – a transit center – one set on the edge of a lake, both busses and watercraft…

CW: SA/attempted SA It had been slow, but he was building a routine. One that was changing and evolving as the rest of the Agency came back to life; even while the Field floor stayed mostly quiet, but it was a start. Jonathan made his coffee the slow, human way, taking some pride and comfort in the small actions. Boiling the kettle, measuring the exact amount of instant granules, and deciding how much sugar to treat himself with that day. Choices he was allowed to make. Control he was allowed to have.  Sometimes, Vincent hid springloaded snakes and other simple pranks in the kitchen, and each was as much a…

Vincent stared at the selection of soda from his seat on the convenience store floor. Colas of varying caffeinated strengths. Energy drinks with various additives. Drinks that claimed to be fruit flavors of a rainbow of artificial colors. Just pick a soda. It should have been an easy task, but like every meal, every beverage he’d had since waking up – the second time – in the infirmary, he waited for the universe to tell him something about himself.  He’d definitely been on Earth – and Faerie – long enough to develop a couple of preferences, but he wished there was something more than vibes he could rely on. But,…

‘Usually,’ Jonathan said, tilting his head to look up at Vincent, ‘there’s just-’ ‘Dodge!’ Vincent called out as his sunglasses slipped from his jacket pocket, along with his phone and the little Agent Mulder leather ID folder with his recently reinstated ID. Jonathan neatly stepped aside, the casualness of the reflex making Vincent wonder exactly how much of Jonathan’s walking-into-furniture pratfalling had been willingly participating in the prank and how much he’d- The suction cup on his knee popped loudly as he adjusted his position, crawled further along the ceiling, and considered his options. Right now, he was extremely safe, as this section of the multipurpose room was only about…

Phoenix Agency 19th November It was astonishing how well requirements helped with setting up pranks. It wasn’t just a matter of being able to place objects where you couldn’t easily reach, it was that required objects would – to a reasonable degree – balance themselves and automatically decide optimal placement. Vincent had tried climbing a stepladder to place a bucket of water, once, then after that, had left it all up to a single requirement. It could handle a heavier bucket than he could easily hoist, and didn’t spill any drops that would alert any half-decent recruit who was wary that something might be up. And it was mostly recruits…

Phoenix Agency November 4th A piece of buttered toast. A piece of toast with jam. An attempt to make his mornings different from how they had been things had been with Victor. He still woke afraid, woke expecting another day of pain, of being used and treated like an object. He ate the buttered toast, and the pigeons arrived. He ate the jam toast, and non-bird company arrived.  Agent Jake, flanked by two security officers who seemed to be almost in grayscale compared to the aide-agent. Twin agents – the first twins he’d ever encountered, as there were none within the Phoenix network – with silver hair, not the graying…