[ooc: Technically not an OOM, but....]

A typically disgruntled Zed has been sitting in the bar he hates, drinking the bourbon he loves, surrounded by people who make him crazy. But the bourbon has been a welcome break from all the after-action reports he's been reviewing from a delicate mission for a rookie agent that went badly wrong.

That sort of thing doesn't happen very often back in Zed's world. Just about all of Zed's missteps during the whole of his thirty-plus year career in the MiB have happened in the last five years and been oddly clustered within the confines of one particular multiversal bar.

Funny how that happens.

Which is why Zed normally spends as short a time in Milliways as possible, and that usually means he never has to use the facilities (or as he's wont to say, take a leak). But those depressing reports back in the office made one more bourbon sound like a good idea, so now he's feeling the urge. Of course, in theory his office is only on the other side of the Door, but people are people and it only makes sense to take care of business before heading back.

So Zed is washing up in the men's room of Milliways when an apparition appears in the mirror. Inevitably, it's former rookie Agent F, standing behind him.

Zed sighs and mutters, "Goddamnit."

He turns. "Agent F."

Agent F stomps forward, "What the hell, Chief? I mean what the--?"

"Now wait a goddamned minute!" Zed barks. F stops in his disembodied tracks.

"Did I not warn you ahead of time?" he growls.

"Yeah, but--."

"Did I not warn you three times?"

"Yeah, but--."

"Did I not specifically tell you not to call the Xigawak ambassador 'Ambassador'?"

"Yeah, except--."

"Did I not tell you exactly what you'd be saying about his mother if you did?"

"Well, yeah--."

"Did I not I tell you exactly what would happen? With three diagrams, a spectrometer, and a holographic simulation?"

"That was a pretty good simulation," F allows.

"And then what you did do?"

F mumbles.

"Huh? Speak up!"

"I, uh, I went right up to the Xigawak ambassador, and said, "Welcome to Terra, 'Ambassador Blowak!"

"And what did he do?"

"That simulation really was a pretty good."

"Wasn't it just? Goddammnit, F. I can't save agents from themselves. And don't think I don't wish I could sometimes."

F ruminates on that for a while. Then: "So what happens now, Chief? Am I stuck here, like you used to be?"

"No, this is just the Landlord fucking with me. It's got nothing to do with you, F. You've earned your leave, with interest. I'm taking care of the paperwork now."

"It's not gonna say--."

"--It's my call, F. You made a mistake, but you're not the first agent who did, and not the last either. Full honors and reputation in good standing. My word on that."

F beams. "Thanks, Chief."

Zed nods. "Get some shuteye, Agent."

F is still beaming as he fades. And when the vision has completely disappeared, Zed sighs and looks up.

"There, you sonuvabitch, had enough holiday fun now?"

The Man in Black heads for the door back into the bar, but just before opening it, he stops and turns back toward the room. "One other thing."

"You want to screw with Agent K, you want to screw with me, fine. You dragged the both of us in here, and we're prepared to put up with Your demented fun and games."

He pauses.

"But if You fuck with another of my people like that again, then whatever and wherever You are, You and I will be having words. Count on it."

Zed slams the door on his way out. And the room remains quite silent after him.

bring_a_sponge: (zed annoyed)
( Jul. 25th, 2010 02:48 pm)
"So what the hell is it?" Zed growls.

"Haven’t a clue," K replies.

"What?" J yells. "C just finds some damn thing lying around on some random planet, and he just brings it right on back here?"

"Pretty much," K says, giving it a poke.

"Well, don’t do that, dammit!" J yells again.

"You worry too much."

"You mean, I’m not a crazy old guy who goes around poking things that are gonna suck off his skin or some shit, so his partner has to go--."

Zed has had a lot of practice ignoring K and J when they go on like this, and right now he’s too busy scowling at the object to play referee.

Whatever it is, it’s big. Two stories tall big. So big, they’re leaving it in the Landing Bay for now, until they get one of the larger labs cleared for it.

Zed pulls out his MiBlackberry and brings up a holographic display showing the results of the initial scans. They were enough for the techs to print out a 3D model, which looks exactly like the full-size version but doesn’t do them a damn bit of good because even the best scans haven’t been able to get under the hood so they can figure out what the hell it’s supposed to do, much less how it works.

Zed gives the artifact another glare. "All right, both of you shut it," he growls and points. "I want that fucking thing explained, and as of three minutes ago it became your problem. I don’t care how the hell you do it, but I’m not having it in MY Headquarters--."

Say... did the artifact just go ‘click’ and point something at Zed just then?

"—and not know what it does. So get on it!"

He spins on his heel and stomps out.

* * *

Three hours later, Zed is sitting in his office in the middle of the MiB Main Hall when the lights go out.

"Goddammit." He punches his comm. "B! How much juice are you idiots sucking down there? We’ve got a blackout up here, for fuck’s sake."

Agent B isn’t having any of it: "What the hell are you talking about? The only sucking going on around here is--."

"Well, if you’re not draining the goddamn generators," Zed interrupts. "Who the hell else would be?"

"What are you, senile? I’m looking at the status board now, and everything’s fine."

"Fine my ass, all the lights are out--." Zed stops. The lights are out in his office all right. But the rest of the Main Hall--clearly visible in the windows surrounding his egg-shaped office--looks perfectly normal. Zed growls.

"What?" B barks.

"Never mind. Get back to work. Try doing something goddamn useful today. That’d be a change."

"How about you go f—!" B starts before Zed shuts off the comm.

Zed heaves himself up and stomps out of his office, onto the causeway linking his office to the upper level of the Main Hall. Seeing an agent walking across the floor below, he lens over the rail and shouts "T! Where the hell is S? I need her to check out my office---."

Zed pauses and looks up. The lights over the causeway just went out.

Zed makes a noise. Then jerks out his MiBlackberry again. He mashes the power up button. Then mashes it again.

Nothing. No display. No shimmering lightboard.

Zed starts bashing the button with his fist.

T looks up worriedly. "Uhhh, Chief?"

"Nothing! Just get S, dammit, and tell her to get the hell up here."

T hustles off. Zed sighs and turns back to his office. The lights are on in there again.

"Huh," Zed grunts. "Ok, then." He walks back in.

The lights go off.


* * *

Twelve hours later, it’s confirmed: everywhere Zed goes, the tech shuts down. Which makes the labs off-limits, along with the generator rooms, the anti-gravity chambers, the high-security cell levels...

It’s driving him nuts.

In fact, it’s driven him to the point where he’s actually considering--. Zed drums his fingers on his desk in the dark for a while, and then calls out:

"All right, you Big Bastard. I know you can hear me. Open the goddamn Door, I’m coming in. Right now, even Your dump would be an improvement."

Apparently, the Landlord’s not about to pass up a chance like that. The glass door to Zed’s office swings open, and there’s the bar. Zed lurches up from his desk, and with a sigh, walks through.
bring_a_sponge: (zed growling)
( Nov. 24th, 2009 08:20 pm)
[After this.]

MiB Headquarters
Planet Earth
0900 hours

Fresh from a breakfast of Denebian flapjacks with bugbutter syrup, Zed heads back to his office and settles into his chair, mashing the button that deactivates the stasis field on his desk and picking up Bob Wonka's Guide to the Loompas now that he finally has time to read it.

"Chapter one: The Loompas--."


Zed mashes another button on his desk, the one for the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Chief, it's T, in the Landing Bay. We just caught the Annelids selling smokes up here again."

Zed slams his fist on the button, cutting off the feed, and lurches to his feet with a growl, "Goddamn worms, goddamn Neeble," and stomps out of his office, heading for the landing bay.

MiB Headquarters
Planet Earth
1100 hours

Back in his office, Zed settles into his chair. "Try this again," he mutters.

"Chapter one: The Loompas--."


"Nnnrah!" Another mash of the button. "WHAT?!"

"Chief, it's M. The Lurian ambassador is down here on Level C and, whoa, is she pissed off. She's screaming something about the Dentazi delegation hauling fifty gallons of bacon grease into her suite and dumping it in the jacuzzi. And you know how the Lurians are about saturated fats."

Zed smashes the com button again and hefts himself up and then out the door. "Got to do every goddamn thing myself around here."

MiB Headquarters
Planet Earth
1300 hours

"....And hold my calls. If it's not a galactic emergency, I don't give a shit."

"Sure thing, Chief."

Zed dims the windows of his office and settles back into his chair. He pauses for a deep breath.

Breathe innnn. Breathe ooouuut.


This time for sure.

"Chapter one: "The Loompas--."


"GODDAMMIT!" He smashes the button. "WHAT?!"

"What the fuck's crawled up your ass and died?" B snarls through the com. "I need you down here in the lab."

"I'm busy! Whatever it is, take care of it! Show some goddamn initiative!"

"Fuck you and fuck your initiative! How the hell am I supposed to work in this dump with only three atomic matter condensers?"

"You know how much each one of those costs?" Zed roars.

"Yeah I know how much they cost. I filled out the goddamn requisition forms, didn't I?"

"And I authorized every one, you sonuvabitch, so what're screaming at ME about?"

"'Cause I don't need three, dammit, now I need five!'



Zed stops just long enough to smash the intercom button five times before storming out the door to head down to the lab and strangle B with his bare hands.

MiB Headquarters
Planet Earth
1500 hours

Zed is still hyperventilating by the time he gets back to his office and slams the glass door behind him, managing to put a half-inch crack in the ("guaranteed, your Altarian megabucks back, no questions asked") unbreakable Glassteel.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a few minutes and then stalks over to his desk, sits down again and cracks open the book.

Chapter one: "The Loompas--."


The com gets something between a roar and a shriek, all of it pure, undiluted rage.

"So you remember that time," K starts, "When the Arquillians threatened to leave the Earth a blasted cinder if they caught us trying to run Dentazi Bloatbusters to the Xirkat resistance again?"

Zed lets out a long sigh as his head thumps on his desk.

"Yeah, I remember that."

"Well, guess what."

He heaves another sigh. "I'll be right down," and gets up to join K down in the Main Hall. The office door closes softly behind him, but the crack shatters anyway, sending half the Glassteel door straight at the floor where it smashes into a million shiny little pieces.

MiB Headquarters
Planet Earth
1700 hours

There's a metal blast panel hammered into place where Zed's office door used to be. And a heavy table has been propped up on one end and shoved against it, barricading the way in. The office windows have all been dimmed to black. The intercom system has been ripped out of the desk and lies in a crackling, smoking pile of wires and circuit boards in the hallway. Inside, a single spotlight shines down through the darkness from behind Zed's head onto the first page of the book.

"Chapter one: "The Loompas--."

"Finally," Zed growls.

And the first line reads: Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy....

"What the fuck?!" Zed roars.

Which also happens to be the second line: Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy....

For page after page after page.

The preliminary reports that claimed Zed managed to hurl the book right through the metal blast panel were, of course, incorrect. That would've been impossible.

No, he took the time to unleash five plasma bursts from his personal Korlian XT-17 first, leaving the door a molten pile of white-hot slag and triggering every Omega-class alarm in the entire building.

Then he threw the book.

bring_a_sponge: (Default)
( Nov. 22nd, 2009 09:21 pm)
[After this.]

K strolls into Zed's office, stopping in his tracks at the sight of a book resting in a stasis field on the Chief's desk.

"Didn't I see that in Milliways?"

"Yeah," Zed growls.

"You brought something here from Milliways?"



"Shaddup. That godammned Bar keeps sticking me with it every time I go in there. Figured if I'm gonna be screwed by it, I might as well know how ahead of time. "

"Bob Wonka's Guide to the Loompas," K reads. "...Bob?"

"How the fuck should I know?

"Boss, I really don't think you should be reading about the Loompas."

"Why not?" asks Zed, with the tone of a man who can think of all sorts of reasons why he shouldn't be reading about anything concerning Milliways but is always ready to get a new one.

"Well, I've heard some strange things about Loompaland since my first time in the bar."

"...There's a whole goddamn Loompaland? I thought they were just part of that Wonka candy factory bullshit."

"No, pretty sure those guys are political refugees."

Zed holds his head in his hands. "So not only there is a Loompaland, but it's also oppressed? Who's responsible for that? Wonka?"

"Don't think so. But I couldn't tell you for sure. The Loompas don't get out much. Mostly just do their thing, whatever that is, behind-the-scenes. Never have gotten around to giving them a close look."

"If that Wonka sonuvabitch is trying to pull something on me, then 'the Candyman' can go fuck himself."

"Got a feeling it won't turn out to be something that straight-forward, Boss."

Zed grunts as he mashes a button, lowering the stasis field, and picks up the book like he expects it any second to explode. He starts thumbing through the pages.

"'Course it won't. It's fucking Milliways."

Most Men in Black keep their letter names for their whole career, but ever so often an agent earns an exceptional promotion, and after years of brilliant innovation in the tech labs, Agent B is now one of them, sub-director of a new post over all of MiB’s R&D. Which means the bureau needed a new Agent B to head the top laboratory, and now they have one. In fact, he’s just completed his first week on the job.

So he’s the one Agent Zed bellows at when he comes striding into the Main Lab, deep inside MiB Headquarters, while holding up the patched-together remains of a certain infamous iPhone, "B! I need this thing operational."

To which the newly appointed Agent B replies, "What, are you nuts? I’m not helping you rebuild that damn thing, you idiot, you’ll blow up New York."

"So rebuild it so it won’t blow up New York. You’re supposed to be this big fucking brain. Prove it."

"I am a big fucking brain. Which is why I wouldn’t have built this thing in the first place."

"Well, if you can’t do it--."

"I got more important things to do, dammit! Still trying to get that—," B utters not so much a curse as a strangled noise, "—bio-glop chain gun finished for Maxwell’s mech, not to mention that combat-ready MiB skirt Goldilo-, bwrrrr, Agent β keeps bugging me about. And don’t even get me started about that Ebola Surprise module you want so damn much for the Rollerball arena. Screw it, I’ll give it to the new guy."

"You’re the new guy."

"I mean the other new guy."

"I don’t like the new guy."

"What's wrong with the new guy?"

"He creeps me out."

"What d’ya mean he ‘creeps you out’? What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means he creeps me out!" Zed growls. "All that shit he goes on about rehabilitating Agents. ‘Rehabilitating,’ ‘resuscitating,’ ‘regurgitating,’ what the hell’s that word he’s always using--?"

"Do you know how many Agents we lose around here?"

"Yes, you asshole, I do know how many Agents we lose. I'm the one who assigns them, aren't I?"


"And when an MiB goes down, he stays down. I might not like it, but I sure as hell don’t need a goddamned MiB Zombie Division shambling around here trying to chow down on my skull for lunch."

B throws up his arms. "I can’t believe you’re this closed-minded."

Zed rolls his eyes. "What the fuck is it about this lab that makes people go batshit insane? If it’ll keep Agent H from pumping more of that weird, green, glowing shit into everything he sees then, yeah, get him working on this damn phone. Tell ‘em I’ll let him try rejuvenating the next Bug we get in here. Serve him right if he ends up something’s lunch himself."

Zed turns on his heel and heads out the door, bellowing, "Now, get busy, before I start thinking about demoting the old B's ass back in here."

"Asshole," B grumbles, failing to hear an evil Zed!chuckle from down the hall a few seconds later.
bring_a_sponge: (zed pissed)
( Nov. 30th, 2008 11:47 pm)
Agent Zed, Master of All He Surveys, is smug.

Three intergalactic smuggling operations foiled before breakfast (what the fuck did the Dentazi need all those oranges for, anyway?), and final clearance granted for the first MiB-backed delegation to the love pits of Sargaxi VIII (who the hell would he send out on that?) by the (-THUD-) afternoon. (-THUD-) Yup, he is truly In Charge (-THUD-), on top of everything. (-THUD-) Got it all (-THUD-) under control. (-WHOOSH-) Hell, he's in such a good mood, (-BANG-) he might even go check in on (-THUD-) that damn Rollerball arena and see (-THUD-) if V managed (-THUD-) to--.


Zed jerks his head around to look behind him. Nothing. Huh. Must be time for the annual CAT-scan. Maybe he's finally cracking up. Ah, whatever.

--Ah, that's right. Still had to follow up on those fresh rumors of Trump being a Blovian Voipslug. Not that Zed would be surprised if the Donald really was, (-THUD-) but if the word got out, (-THUD-) they'd have two fleets of crazed Voipslug hunters coming down on their heads (-THUD-, -THUD-, -THUD-, -BLOOP-) every damn weekend. (-THUD-)


Zed jerks around again. Still nothing.

--Of course, the top-shelf (-THUD-) pains-in-the-ass (-THUD-) were still the damn (-THUD-) Annelids. (-BINK-) Crazy, fucking worms, (-THUD-) they were just going (-BOINK-) out of their way to (-WHIRR-) crank up that damn Prank War (-THUD-) to eleven. (-THUD-) Like Zed didn't have--. (-THUD-)

With a roar of rage, Zed spins on his heel to see a hallway just as empty as before. Except--. What was that sensor rod sticking out past the corner of that side hallway there?

Squinting in annoyance, Zed stomps back toward the side hall for a closer look, only to see the sensor jerk back out of sight, followed by a rapid -THUD-, -THUD-, -THUD-, -THUD- that damn near rattles Zed's teeth right out of his skull.

"GODDAMMIT, THAT IS IT!!" Zed roars and breaks into a--. Well, not exactly a run, but a pretty impressive hustle.

Zed fucking hates to hustle.

He rounds the corner with an enormous, "HAH!" of triumph as he comes face-to-face with--.

--Nothing at all.

-THUD-, -THUD-, -THUD-, -THUD- from around the next corner.

Zed can only manage a strangled bellow by this point, but he's got enough inertia built up to bring his bulk to a genuine rush.

Zed fucking hates to rush.

Almost as much as he hates to round a corner just as the thudding stops to be followed by an ominous -WHIIINE- as the flamer weapon of a fully armed Inner Sphere STILETTO TR3067 whips around to point directly at Zed's skull, followed by the staccato snaps of its targeting system zeroing in right between his eyes.


Zed doesn't actually dive for cover so much as belly flop for it, but instead of a hellfire strike, there's a familiar voice over the Stiletto's recorded voicebox:

And with that, the Stilleto does a little dance away down the hall and out of sight.

Followed by a moment of silence before:

bring_a_sponge: (zed in charge)
( Aug. 25th, 2008 11:35 pm)
Zed is down in the bowels of MiB HQ, sitting in his usual spot in the bureau's main cafeteria, glowering at a defenseless bagel that had the audacity to be wheat instead of cinnamon-raisin.

Another sign the goddamn universe is going straight to hell.

Bad enough he has to cope with attacks by Black Oil and a Rollerball arena that is threatening to devour even the MiB's nearly limitless budget. Now he's even got to deal with a fresh crop of Agents from that fucking nuthouse Milliways.

What next?
bring_a_sponge: (zed in charge)
( Jul. 11th, 2008 01:55 am)
Picture this:

The Man in Charge. Master of All He Surveys. The Chief. The Boss. The Big Man.

Agent Zed.

In his office at the heart of MiB HQ.

A good day. Quiet. Productive. The kind of day a man expects he'll be able to look back on with tremendous satisfaction.

Well, half a day, anyway....
bring_a_sponge: (zed - hmmm)
( Mar. 17th, 2008 01:25 am)
Zed is still trying to figure out how the hell he ended up in a charity gig for the goddamn bar. Must have been some fit of insanity. Or maybe some bastard spiked his drink. Anything's possible.

But now that he has to sort through the damn bids, he figures he ought to find out what the hell people have in mind before he agrees to one of them. With this bunch, you never can be too careful.

Goldy would have to be high on that list, though. It's not like Zed hasn't noticed she's hot--he's just not about to admit it to her face. And since he knows K is supposed to have some sort of dinner date with her coming up, that's a good incentive to get a one up on the guy.

Which is why Zed finds himself outside Room 111 and knocking on the door...
When Jen Walters had asked Zed how soon he expected to hear back from the recon team he sent out to investigate a Black-Oil infestation in a Rimiran colony, Zed had told her three days at best. Ten days more likely. November 29th. December 6th.

It's now January 3rd.

Thirty-eight days.

Agent B is keeping quiet, his finger poised above the comm channel on the Egg Display control panel. The other senior Agents and techs in the MiB HQ's main hall aren’t saying a word either.

No one expects good news. At this point, they just hope not to hear the worst.

"Hit it," Zed growls.

B raps the comm. Static fills the chamber until B toggles the volume down and reconfigures a few signal/noise levels.

"Agent O, this is Zed. What’ve you got for me?"

"Not much good, Chief." O’s voice is tinny. With the kind of tech MiB used that could only mean the recon team's signal is punching through one hell of a jamming system.

"Do you have control of the colony?" Every other question is secondary.

"No, Sir. We’ve established a presence, but the Enemy remains entrenched in several locations in the area. We’re taking regular fire."

"Thirty-eight days, and you’re still securing your position? What the hell happened?"

"Heavy weaponry, Chief. Plasma cannon on the high end. Rimiran disruptors up close. And reinforced defense systems. Tunnels. Supply dumps."

"And these are Oil-compromised Rimirans?"

"No, sir. As far as we can tell, the Rimirans were all wiped out within days of the invasion."

There's silence in the room as Zed meets the gaze of B and then K. Zed hadn’t even noticed when K came into the room.

With Zed distracted, B asks the question first: "Who are we talking about then, O?"

"Entities. The aliens temporarily designated as "The Masters." They’ve been hooded in every encounter, and we haven’t been able to bag a single damn one of them, so we’re still waiting on a positive identification."

"O, this is K. You're saying they match the description of the entity encountered during the retaking of MiB HQ?"

"Affirmative. That much we can confirm."

"That’s good enough for me," Zed growls. "O, what intel have you gathered on the Masters’ resistance to standard MiB armament?"

"Oh, they blow to atoms just fine, Chief. The trick is getting a clear shot. Most of their teams have had Class V Force Defenses with network support. If we bring down the generator, the rest is clean-up. But we’re taking casualties right up to then."

"How serious?" Zed’s face is a thundercloud.

"So far we’ve held the line with field treatment. We’re going to need several limb regenerations after the mission, but morale remains high."

Another glance between K and Zed. Even by their standards, the MiB recon teams are tough sons-of-bitches.

"All right, O. We can work with that. How secure is this channel going forward?"

"We’re not losing it, Chief. But no promises on how long the remaining objectives will take."

"Understood. Your first Relief Team should be making orbit in eighteen standard hours. The second left fifty-two standard ago, ETA in another seventy-three. As of this report, I’ll place a third team on stand-by."

"Confirmed and appreciated, Chief. O, out."

B returns the channel to stand-by. Silence fills the room once again.

"All right," Zed’s gaze travels around the hall. "We knew what we’d be getting into here, and it all could’ve gone a hell of a lot worse. Let’s get to work and do what we can to keep this momentum going our way."

As the agents broke into groups, K strolls over.

"I’d feel better," his voice low, "If you were even half as confident as you're trying to look."

Zed’s voice is a low rumble. "We’re getting this kind of resistance from an outlying surveillance station. What the hell are we going to be facing when we finally locate Altair IV?"
bring_a_sponge: (zed and k profile)
( May. 3rd, 2007 10:55 pm)

MiB Headquarters,
Post-Black Oil Infestation Recovery Operation: Day Twenty-Two,
Office of Agent Zed

Zed passes his hand over a small sphere set into the surface of his desk. The curved glass window around his office darkens and goes opaque. Indirect lighting keeps the light at a steady level, but the room doesn't feel quite so exposed now.

"You really think she needs that?" K asks. "The kid's tough, Boss."

"I know," Zed replies, not looking up.

K looks at him for a bit, then goes back to moving one of the chairs to the front of Zed's desk. That done, he walks over to the glass door that leads out to the catwalk and the rest of MiB Headquarters. Hand on the entry panel, he waits.

Zed finishes putting his papers and neuralyzer in order. Then with a sigh, he nods.

K taps against the glass door. Even he can't help feeling a touch of vertigo as the glass door swings open to show, not the catwalk, but Milliways just beyond.

Sure enough, she's standing there, waiting.

K smiles. "C'mon in, Steph. We're all set here."

The smile's a lie. K is just as worried as Zed about what may be about to happen. But showing it would probably just make things harder.
bring_a_sponge: (zed in charge)
( Apr. 18th, 2007 10:04 pm)

Following this.

MiB Headquarters,
Post-Black Oil Infestation Recovery Operation: Day Fourteen,
Office of Agent Zed

When Zed finally takes a break from reading the latest report from Arcturus IX ('....latest mentat stakes give a major civil war 2:1 odds....'), Agent B is standing in the doorway, about to knock on the jamb.

Well, the one part of the jamb that's left, anyway. Repairs are still heavily underway, and Zed is only in his office out of sheer stubbornness. His office platform is barely standing at all, and if Zed rolls his chair too far back, he'll go sailing right off the edge and splat ass-first on the floor of the Main Hall below.

Whatever B has to say, Zed knows it's only going to be more bad news, which means B is lucky he only gets a growl. "What is it?"

"Got the pattern analysis for that flash burn we found in the Main Hall, Chief."

"And?" Zed growls again.

"We've confirmed the flash does not conform to any known neuralyzer technologies."

Zed glares. "Are we even sure it was a neuralyzer?"

B shrugs. "No. And we won't be until we hear back from K and Stephanie Brown."

"[Absolutely staggering expletive deleted.]... Anything else?"

"Maybe," B pauses. "Air sniffers picked up exhalant from a carbon-based respiration system. We ran it through the known databases, and came up with nothing. But we're still looking."

"Well, at least we know whatever it was, they can breathe in a class-M atmosphere."

"Doesn't mean they need it though, Chief."

"No, but it does mean we can try to spike it if we have to. Sleeping compound, nerve gas, whatever the hell makes the son-of-a-bitch go down. If this bastard was responsible for the Black Oil, we're not fucking around if it shows up again."
A silence falls over sublevel C, broken only by the occasional clatter of falling debris, and the quiet chatter coming over the MiB comm, as the surviving Men in Black escape from the DeNeuralyzation Room upstairs and fan out to see just how bad things are.

Well, they sure aren't good. But the destruction of N, Y, T in the shooting gallery has left the Oil for dead, apparently everywhere else in the Headquarters.

That wasn't supposed to be how the Oil worked. But then, Zed thinks, MiB got most of its data about the Black Oil from those same Agents.

He looks around what's left of the gallery, and of Marvin, and then finally the rest of his team.

A long pause.

"I'll say this much for Milliways."

"The place is a fucking nuthouse, and always will be."

"But the people there know how to kick ass like nobody else."
"Stick close," Zed mutters, as he leads the way down the hallway.

"No damn cover here at all," he continues. "Asses hanging right out in the open."

You better believe he'll remember this moment at renovation time.
Looking to the right, the hallway goes quite a ways down. There are several doors along the way, but also an open space at the far end that looks like it might be a stairwell.

Unfortunately, it's immediately clear that these hallways aren't going to provide any cover whatsoever.
As the other teams head out, a quiet falls over the armory room, broken only by the gentle hum of the ventilation system and the low rumble of that other machine, whatever and wherever it might be.

Even the noises coming from the bar seem hushed as the waiting part of Team Omega's mission begins.

There's still all that shiny, though. Including some cylinders that look like they might be replacement charges for the Bunny's flamethrower. Ah, those Men in Black. They always come prepared.

(ooc: good time to say how the team will position themselves to defend the door)
The questions eventually die down. Everyone has what they need. Zed can still see the Door.

It's Time.

Zed leads the group across the Bar and puts a hand on the Door as he turns to look at them. When he gets their collective nod, he drops his hand down to the door knob and waits as they take defensive positions.
As a group, we're just big enough to make logistics sort of tricky, so I'm assuming everything will be slowtimed sooner-or-later. So if your schedule is nuts over the next few days, no worries. We'll work it out.

I'm hoping to get the first thread done tonight because it's just Zed's briefing. He's going to go over all the important details so anyone who hasn't had a chance to catch up on previous posts won't have to worry about it. But if your pup has questions, this will be the time to ask.

Once that thread is done, I'm planning on three actual Big Fight threads, one for each team. Here's what Zed will be planning, but if you'd rather have your pup be doing something different, just let me know. I've tried to have the teams fall in line with pups' skills but also muns' schedules:


Team Alpha

Agent Zed, Ray Stantz, Peter Venkman, Alex Krycek, Suzi Darley, Captain Richard Ryan, Oracle, Sheriff Bill Pardy

Mission Objectives

1) Retake the MiB HQ command room on sublevel C from Black Oil operatives.
2) Once in command, assess situation, and initiate MiB defense systems
3) Assist other teams as needed

Team Delta

Goldilocks, Stephanie Brown, Duo Maxwell, She-Hulk (Jennifer Walters)

Mission Objectives

1) Get Duo to the Stiletto mech in the Landing Bay (Level D)
2) Take down any Black Oil operatives you see with extreme prejudice and maximum firepower (fun!)

Team Omega

Guardian Bob, Matrix, the Bunny

Mission Objectives

1) Hold the line. You are the last line of defense for Milliways.
2) If things go pear-shaped, provide cover fire for a retreat


I'll try to be as available as possible over the next few days so we can keep that Big Momentum going. And if a bunch of us are online at once, we can always have a 'Black Oil' chatbox up.

And with that, it's on to the first thread, "A Final Briefing"!
Zed's been spending most of the day staring out the Observation Window. He doesn't need the holographic data or the floor plans anymore. He really didn't need them in the first place. He could have run this entire scenario in his head if he had had to. Laying it out on paper and screen was just a matter of convenience, and a way to double-check that he wasn't making an obvious mistake.

Either way, the time for prep is done. The word's gone out to the volunteers about tonight's briefing, and they have already begun to show up. Zed's found a quiet corner of the bar and a small table, on which sits the cylinder which is now projecting a holographic image of the MiB logo.

He's been staring at that logo. It's never been more compromised than it is right now. By the time this mission is done, it will stand for something again--or be finished for good.

But then comes the sight of the first people arriving, and just like that, all his worries are cast aside.