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teamdoubleoh · 4 years

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00Q - WTNV AU

wordcount: 5205

“Hello listeners. Before I begin today’s program I have been asked by John Peters, you know, the farmer, to inform the public that the imaginary corn harvest will be delayed by two weeks this season, due to unforeseen showers of our ancestors tears and jell-o just outside city limits. You know what that means: No imaginary-corn-juice until September.

Regarding the sky: I should mention that it will be bright green tonight so keep your curtains shut and avoid late night walks.

I repeat: D̵͍̟̭͖̑͆̇͊͘ô̶̞̌͋̒̃ ̶̥̖̅͌̀͘ǹ̵̦̓́͝ỏ̸̲̋ṯ̷̗̽ ̴̱̣͖̪̐ḡ̶͔̫̤o̵͇̿̇̉̌ ̵͙̗͎̈́̈́͗̏o̷̤̳͍͉͐̽̌͊ṵ̸̟͂̍t̸͇̞̠̜̻͝ş̴̤̯̿͊̈́̉i̷̞̝̾̈͋͌̀d̵͈̥͆͆͝͠e̸̖̾.̵̥̳͉̌͜ ̴̧̖̯̪͖̊̊̋͘̚U̷̬̰̙͛́̔̌ṇ̸̣̆̔̑d̷̗̥́̑e̵̛͚͔̘̖̿̌̏̕r̶̬̦̒͆ ̶̯͖̰̦̏̒̎̂̕ņ̸͎̺̻͐͆ô̸̢͉̥̠̳̈́̑̈̓ ̸̞͔̀c̷̙̹̺̝̭̎̈́̇i̴̮̜̜͖̎͘͜r̷̦͙͚̙̹̀̂̐c̶̨̧̤̣̮̆͗̎̋u̷̧̧͇̯͐́͒̆͋m̶̟͈͍͖͐͂s̵̖̦͑̍͂͝ț̵̋͌̕ȃ̵̱͈̽͒͠n̵̗͔̼̫͉͑̈͐͠c̸͕̋̽͌̈́̌e̷͇̥̤̍̐̉͠s̷̝̦̍͌̿̓͝ ̸̢̗͇̫̟̈́̀a̷̱͗͠r̵̡̤͚̙̆͐͝ë̴̮̜̭́̓͗͠͝ ̴̡̜̀̄͜y̷̬͈̮̮͋ơ̶͖̮ư̸̫̮̌̈́ͅ ̶͇̈t̸̤͉̹̜̺͆͋o̵̗͒̐́ ̵̡̜̤̼̼̃͌̄̈́̒l̸̰͎̺̻̾͗͆̉õ̷̖o̷̞̞̝͔̿͑͛͜k̴̳̗̼͕̫̃̕ ̸͓̘͔̦̼͋̈̔͘à̸̫̳͈͔̝̀͐̑t̵̡̛̤͓͎̥̐̏͆̃ ̶̛̫̩̤̠̤̈̿̍t̵̮̘̳̳͔͐̎͘̚ḫ̷̡̧̢̛̝̋͠͝e̸̦͔̲̟̿͂̚̕ ̸̪̜̩̎̐̍͂ş̵̀̓̈́̚͝k̴̤̼͎̠̄͒̀̈́͠y̴̢̫̓̒ ̷̹̫̆̓̽͒͒t̴̨̢̺͗ö̸̮̺́͝ń̴̤̀i̴̢̋͋̈́̚͜͝ĝ̸͕̊h̴̹̩̅͠ͅt̷͙͈̞̞͑͜.̸͙́́͐ .

The sky will regain its normal colour by 9am, just in time to go to bed. Tomorrow night it will temporarily be violet, just as scheduled for the second Saturday of August.

On local news: A stranger came into town tonight. They tell me he stopped by old woman Josie’s house to ask for directions, but she sent him away because he kept staring impolitely at the Angels which are not permanent residents in old woman Josie’s house. In fact they do not exist. And they lie.

To return to our stranger: He was fine.

No one who wears a bespoke suit like him is ever truly lost. It hasn’t got anything to do with the suit, only with the road map that was firmly lodged between his third to fifth rib and a shoulder holster under the suit. Our stranger is also nervous, or so they tell me. He wonders how I know, and he wonders who "they" are and why I am referring to him in this very moment, on the radio.

If I was insensible I would mention more things about him like how he likes Vodka Martinis and has developed a strong dislike of Venice and how he he can’t follow orders or rules or his heart.

Luckily I am not insensible.

Well, strangers are rare in Nightvale. The last time someone came to us from somewhere else I don't even remember. Dear listeners, I know what you're asking: What does he want from us? Why has he come? What is the last digit of π?

As it is my duty as a radio host, I will provide you with answers:

The last digit of π is a real number between 0 and 9.

The Stranger wants nothing from us. He was sent by someone who wants someone else and someone else is here, in our lovely little town.

So, he has come to find someone; maybe we could tell the stranger where he, who he is looking for, is but you know the rules. If you see something, say nothing. The sheriff's secret police has already gotten rid of any potential threat. The rules say so.

Our stranger can’t follow rules. He remembers his mission. He remembers that he has a mission, he even remembers why has one.

Another secret about our stranger: He is a spy. That also is the reason why he has a mission, and the mission is finding the special someone. Our stranger doesn't know the name of his someone but he knows others call him Quartermaster. He doesn't know how to find his someone.

Dear listeners. There is a stranger in Nightvale, who is looking for someone who is a stranger to him, but not us. He is a spy but others call him agent; He fears the waters of Venice, can't follow rules and his name is Bond. James Bond.

Just this evening I was out near the forbidden dog park at the corner of “Earl” and “Summer-set” near the “Ralph’s” when I met him. He still wore the same bespoke suit which was a bit crumpled after the many hours spent behind the wheel of his car.

On unrelated news: The Agent drives a silver DB5 Aston Martin with a pumpkin shaped coffee stain on the drivers seat, or so I’m told.

The Agent, James Bond, sat on a bench outside the dog park because the dog park was closed. The dog park was closed because it was Friday after 5pm and because it it closed every day.

He sat in that particular spot because he was instructed to. He doesn't know by whom exactly, but it says so in his mission file, so he has to sit here on this Friday afternoon and wait. According to his instructions the Quartermaster is supposed to meet him here but there is no Quartermaster, just an Agent alone on a bench.

I felt a little bad for him, and also a little weak on my feet because my left knee had just acted up again, so I sat next to him.

He didn’t say anything.

I said:" How do you like the dog park?"

He pointed towards the sign with the rules for the park and said:" Pretty pointless, If you ask me." I had asked him, so I didn't say anything further and he said:" Excuse me," and was gone.

Not instantly of course, he just walked at a fairly quick pace.

Honestly, I find it quite frankly astounding that the Agent drove all the way out here, only to sit on a bench to talk to someone but when someone showed up, he won’t even discuss dog parks without dogs or the inevitability of passing time.

Well.

Our sponsor today is the East India Company. Have you always wanted your own east India? Now you can have it for the low cost of a lifetime of conquest. West Indias are currently out of stock and not as cool as east Indias anyways. Get your own province today at [email protected].

I am distressed to announce that, due to unforeseen circumstances, the bowling-alley-arcade-fun complex will be closed until further notice. The Nightvale bowling team will instead train at the waterfront and harbour recreation area, which is also currently closed to the wider public. Sadly this means all bowling pins have to be exchanged for a volleyball net and the bowling balls for a beach volleyball.

Further more there are news from the station.

In the mens bathroom a cat has appeared. It does not seem to want to leave, or at least has made no attempt to, but maybe that has something to do with the local shift in gravity in there. The cat is currently living on the wall opposite the door, where she appears to be able to stick straight to the tiles. Well, you know how local gravitational faults are. But honestly, I don't have the time to call someone to fix it and none of the interns have been here at the station since this morning, so I guess we have a cat now.

In further station news I will now read the outcome of the vote my interns and I took over the course of yesterday’s lunch break. The vote was on wether or not I am to refer to them as "minions" in the future.

Alright, let’s see: Not In favour of the new title of "minion" are: ...Hm. Only me.

In favour of the new title of "minion" are: Minions Number 1, Number 2, Number 3, Number 4, Number 5, Number ... well. I assume you can already see where this is going.

I’ll check in on station management on any new developments in town. So now I present to you... the weather.”

(Mortal Man by Jeremy Loops)

“Welcome back listeners!

Station management wants to remind every one that words aren't silver. words are vibrations. Silence is golden. Thought is magic. From this we can conclude that Paul Watzlawick was wrong.

I am also to inform you that there has been an accident just outside dark owl records. No cars were involved, nor any other vehicles or pedestrians. Just the crashing of two squalls of hot dry desert air that didn't see each other coming.

There were no casualties.

To avoid future incidents remember to honk if you exist.

City council would like to thank the citizens of Nightvale that didn't come to get any documents approved this past week, as it has been very stressful and there were enough people present already. Anyone who wants to drop off any paperwork to get it signed is deeply unwelcome. If you still want to visit city hall today, be reminded that the first and second floor have been temporarily moved to the basement. Be also reminded that the basement is off limits to non-employes.

There are news on the agent. During break I went to visit him on his bench. I suppose it would be unprofessional of me to point out that he is good looking so I won’t. I pointed out some of the hooded figures in the dog park and he quickly shushed me. Apparently he has finally decided to read the rules for the dog park, although he appears to have missed the fine script.

He then kept looking at me strangely and asked how I knew about him being an agent. He said he was just listening to me on the radio talking about it.

I said I didn't know he was an agent, they told me he was an agent. I also know agents, and they are all very similar. None of them like to bring back the equipment in one piece, or follow the rules, or black forest cake.

He seemed very taken aback by that. He asked how I knew any agents at all. It was really rather amusing, but of course I told him. I said I know agents because it's my equipment they break. and my rules they won't follow, although there only is one: Always return the equipment in one piece.

He asked if I worked for the government and wether I was allowed to tell him all this. My break was over so I didn't have time to answer him but he is listening to the radio right now, so: I don’t work for the government, there is no such thing. And why wouldn't I be allowed to tell you this? It’s not like it is a secret like sheriff Sam’s secret police. Strangers are so strange... Anyway.

Minion number 1 Is gesturing wildly at her copy of tonights script from outside the booth. I wonder what she could be trying to tell me.

Well.

Next up is traffic.

Do you know how to swim? Have you ever swam in a lake or river or the ocean? If you have, you know the creeping dawning that below you there is nothing for a few feet. Or miles. So much space between you and the earth. But it does not matter because the water protects you from your inevitable death. Lucky you. If you have put you head under water in the ocean and opened your eyes to see nothing but a vast emptiness you know what it it is like in space. You look around and maybe, if you're lucky you’ll spot a fish or two and can find relief in the knowledge that you are not alone in this strange inner outer space. If you don’t spot a fish or two you will soon feel the sinking fear of realisation that you are still not alone. You won't ever be. But it is so, so silent. There really isn't anything there you can see. You're lucky you can actually see that you're alone otherwise you would be so so afraid in this moment of realisation. If your head was above the surface right now you wouldn't see a thing below you because the suns reflection would hide it. Or maybe there wouldn't be anything to hide. Maybe you really are alone. You are so lucky you are below the surface and can actually see what is there and what isn't. So lucky you don’t need to go back up there, where the air is. You don’t need air. You need to keep watch. You should go swim in the ocean.

And now a public service announcement.

The nightvale scientific community calls for volunteers. Volunteers are required to be born no later than tomorrow morning and are not allowed to be dead yet. If you are already dead please leave a note, ore reapply at an earlier date. The volunteers which fit these requirements are asked to come to the station tomorrow morning at 9pm. We are aware this is well into the “personal free time” following the average nine-to-five job but we ask you to show up anyways. Scientists work best during sleeping hours. The scientific community also reminds you that we have a new experiment running, so if you spot any orbs around town, do no question them. D̵̺̪͗̈ọ̸̖̗͓̘̇̽͐ ̶̹̦̠͔͒ͅn̷̠͊̔̀͋ŏ̶̢̯̓̋̉͜t̴̡̺̹̾̀́̕ ̷͇͔͇̈́q̶̥͈̋́̄ụ̸͔̐̇̄͆ē̶̬̈́͑̂̈s̵̺̑́ț̶̮̻̭̪͌͝ị̶̪͓͐͝ö̵͓́͊̑n̴̗̳̤̑͐ ̵̖̑́t̸̨̡̢̛̝͉̉͝h̶̩̓ẽ̴̹̳̄̾͗ ̶̣͔͎̬̍̎̀̌ő̶̫̈́̀̌̽r̵̜̮̙͎̰͊̉̊̕̚b̵̘͍̖̽͜͜s.̷͖͈̗͉̅̃̓̊̈́

This was a public service announcement.

My friend Eve who currently works under station management wants me to remind everyone with blond hair that doors are for people with no imagination. She also wants me to remind everyone with any other hair colour that doors are for people with no imagination. Bald people are exempt from this rule for obvious reasons.

Next up are horoscopes.

People that are born under Aquarius should remember to text someone. Who?Oh you know.

People who have the same star sign as Moneypenny are reminded that we value them as a friend and that they deserve the world and a muffin.

People born under the same star sign as Minion 3 should know that their cooking skills could still be improved. Not by a lot though. Your cooking is wonderful.

People under the same star sign as Q - oh thats me, what a coincidence - should remember to announce something important to their community, such as the dangers of the world or the fact that big rico's is having a sale right now.

People with the same star sign as the Agent, James Bond, should know that their goals are in closer proximity than they might think and that volunteer work is a way to enrich the community as well as the heart.

Thats it for todays horoscopes.

In unrelated news a quick personal statement. It’s a cruel world. .

Also: big rico’s pizza is having their monthly midnight snack sale.

That’s it for tonight. Stay tuned for the sound of our new station pet walking up and down the restroom’s tiled wall.”

***

On a bench not too far away sat a stranger. He was an Agent and his name was James Bond. Slowly he turned down the volume of his portable radio and inhaled deeply. Tomorrow he would be at the station at 9am sharp, as a volunteer to nightvale’s scientific community.

If he could find this quartermaster anywhere it would be there, he was sure of it. Then he could get out of this weird little town where the radio host knew everything about him. Though when he looked at it that way, the quartermaster could probably know everything about him too, if he wanted to. Not that James had met the quartermaster, but this was the 21st century. With the right skills anyone could find out anything and everyone could turn out to be someone else. He would have to wait for tomorrow.

XXX

"Hello listeners!

Today I am happy to announce that we will be witness to some Experiment down at Q branch, located in the stations cellars. As I am nightvales only radio show host, I was asked to describe the proceeding of todays displays to our younger listeners.

As it is nearly 9 am the volunteers have already arrived. I am correctly standing amidst them, waiting to get into the stations cellar where the headquarter of the nightvale scientific community is located. The volunteers who are standing with me here today are Minion 2, Minion 5 and Minion 4 as well as the Agent, James Bond.

Seems like everyone else wants to spend time with their loved ones instead of a cellar, weird.

Anyways. They tell me the agent has come in the hope that the quartermaster will be present today, which is a shame because I know for a fact that he isn't currently in the cellar.

Oh. The Agent, James Bond, has joined me over here by the door. It appears he has heard what I said. He’s saying something, wait let me turn down the back feed first.

He says: “How do you know the Quartermaster is not in there?”

Well, I have to admit, it would just be plain sad if I didn't. The minions are snickering. James Bond has now turned to Minion 5 to ask them why they think this is funny. 5 replies with “because it is”. Well I can’t say I disagree. Now Bond seems a little agitated. He turns back to me. He's asking if I know the Quartermaster. Of course I do. He is asking what I mean with “Of course”.

Well dear listener, this seems like the perfect time to quote Lao Tse. “He who knows others is wise, he who knows himself is enlightened.”

I feel like this is also the perfect time to tell James that I am Head of Q branch, the nightvale scientific community, which means that I definitely should be wise, or at the very least very, very smart.

He seems to take this information well, which is good, especially when we take into consideration that the agent could probably kill me with his right hand tied behind his back. Or so I'm told.

Now the agent looks exasperated. He asks me who they are. I think I showed you just yesterday, James. Honestly, pay a little attention. May I call you James?

He says I may, If I tell him what my name is.

Ah, good one Agent. I can’t tell you that. Anyways, Minion 4 is signing me that it’s time to start the experiment.

She's right dear listeners! I’m kind of busy holding my broadcasting equipment. Number 2, would you be so kind and take the key out of my left pocket? Ah thanks. Alright Listeners, we’re heading inside.

For those of you who haven't been down in Q branch before, which, to be frank, should be all of you, let me quickly describe it.

Imagine a cellar. The ceiling is held up by brick pillars. Imagine desks and computers and loads of scientific equipment with weird names no-one but a scientist could ever hope pronouncing correctly between the pillars. Also some of the walls are painted in a lovely off-white and navy blue combination.

Minions 2, 4 and 5 as well as James Bond and myself are currently in the quarter of the room which seems the most cluttered and is closest to the door. of course it only seems the most cluttered because it is. That’s because we’re currently in the area designated for engineering, and for some reason we never come around to cleaning up. Mostly because we don't want to.

To our left is the quarter designated for chemistry and, by default, toxicology. Do not ever, under any circumstances consume anything in the close vicinity.

Greetings go out to Minion 9, who is currently in intensive care at nightvale’s public hospital.

To our right is our testing area. Since a not necessarily small part of the equipment we manufacture is meant to blow up at some point, we have a secluded this area with bags of sand to keep the debris away from the more fragile things down here. Finally, at the opposite end of the room is the designated area for data processing.

Bond is now strolling towards the desk in the middle and is looking at the laptop on top of it. Maybe I should stop him. Well. He has opened the laptop. he seems to be confused. Wait a second listeners, I have to go get my computer back.

Bond is looking at me. He’s asking who the laptop belongs to. Well, I did jut say it belongs to me didn’t I.

He seems disappointed. He’s asking if I could just tell him where the quartermaster is. I mean I could, but why would I? The quartermaster came here to get away from the government.

James is asking me how I know the quartermaster, if I’m working with agents. If the quartermaster doesn't trust the government, why does he trust agents?

Dear listeners, If I remember correctly I told James only yesterday the government wasn't real. It seems he doesn't believe me. Oh well.

He’s still waiting for an answer. He’s staring at me, this is why I avoid human interaction. He has these weird blue eyes. And he only has two eyes too. all of my minions, except Number 3 have more than two eyes, though I don’t know why. Number 3 has two eyes but he's blind. I have two eyes too, but I have access to at least a few dozen at any given time so I don't really count. He's still staring. This is weird. How do I tell someone I don't want to tell them. Ah he's groaning. Right, he can hear me. I am so not used to talking to people face to face.

Anyway. Time to start the experiment!

All volunteers are placed over by the chemistry slash toxicology area. None of them know what the experiment is, which is entirely their fault. minions 2, 4 and 5 were actually hand picked by me because they never listen when I tell them important stuff, like:" If you're listening right now, you can go home early tonight".

Now number 2 and 5 are looking at me grumpily while 4 is signing "ha ha.” Sorry 4, I needed at least three Minions.

Alright listeners, today were testing a new defence system which I have installed in some of our most commonly used artillery.

As I've mentioned before, agents rarely ever bring back the equipment we build for them, which is a shame because most of it are prototypes.

James is frowning at me, like he always brings back his equipment. I happen to know he didn’t return a single thing from his past four missions. Now he’s frowning even more. Hm.

The system we’re testing today is a feature designed to improve the shooting ability of the agent the gun was designated to, and only them.

If you'll remember I mentioned our new palm print encoded hand gun in last weeks fun facts children's science corner, right between a brief explanation on the planets of our solar system and the sociology of blue whales.

While the guns we are testing today aren’t equipped with the encoded palm print, they have been upgraded with the feature that allows the agents to hit more precise. Since only only one of the minions present today is proficient in shooting guns of this category, we will compare the aim of Minion 5 and James with Minion 2 and Minion 4, who usually work in chemistry and are thus more proficient in hand to hand combat and poetry.

I will now give each volunteer an upgraded Walther P99. They will shoot the target until the clip runs out. Then we will count the missed shots and put the results in the protocol. Remember kids: The difference between screwing around and science is writing stuff down. Then we will repeat the sequence, take a quick break and then repeat the sequence again to erase any errors that might occur in the system. Until the experiment is finished I will be off the air to spare you the noise. Alright Minions and James, you heard me. Go."

***

James aimed, exhaled and pulled the trigger. Perfect hit. He aimed and shot again until there were no bullets left. All perfect hits. He reloaded his handgun, an action he could, evidently, do in his sleep. He raised his gun again and emptied the clip into his human shaped target, which was now missing a good chunk of paper brain and heart.

"Nicely done" someone said behind him. The radio host slash scientist had sneaked up on him, presumably during the gunfire, otherwise Bond would have heard him. Or at least he was pretty sure he would have. James put down the weapon on a nearby desk. "Thanks. It comes with the job"

He meant it. He knew he didn’t actually do much good, though his actions usually had consequences that were better than those that would have occurred if he hadn’t intervened. He was still good at what he did.

The radio host put his head to one side "I imagined it would. Would you mind and stop calling me radio host in your head? It’s really quite irritating."

James chocked on air. "You can read my mind?"

The radio host laugh was quite beautiful and James couldn't stop himself from thinking that, if he hadn't sworn off romance after Vesper, he'd have given the radio host a shot, albeit still not know his name. He then immediately shunned himself, feeling childish for his sudden affection for a man he barely knew.

The radio host had recovered from his outburst. "Although I technically could read you mind, because I work with the secret police, I can’t right now. I don’t need to, to know what you have dubbed me. I’m good at reading people. It’s one of the few useful things I learned from my brothers. But to get back to your original question; you may call me Q. Just please stop with the “radio host”."

James smiled one of his rare smiles and lowered his head in a mock bow. "Alright then Q, pleased to make your acquaintance." Q nodded dignified and answered lightly:" You as well James Bond." "Now that we’re no longer strangers may I ask you some questions Q, or am I being too forward?" Q rolled his eyes:"Of course. You may ask me anything you'd like"

"And would you answer me if I asked?"

Q smiled at him cheekily. "Not necessarily. But you can certainly try."

"Thats more than I expected, so I won't complain."

"How very generous of you."Q answered deadpan.

The corner of James mouth twitched. "May I invite you for a late dinner, then? That’ll give me more time to ask questions you won’t have to answer."

"Fine. I'll find you. Now, get back to shooting, break is over and you still have one more sequence to complete." James only smiled and went to pick up his gun.

***

In the end James decided to go to “big Rico’s pizza”for dinner. He wasn't actually hungry and he didn't know any restaurants in the area anyways. Also this was the one the radio host - Q - had mentioned on the radio. He chose a table close to the door, but not by the window - a habit he didn’t hope to break anytime soon - and ordered a soda.

Ten minuted later the bell above the door rang and Q came in, carrying a suitcase that looked like it came straight out of a movie set in the 1920's.

James expression just have mirrored his thoughts, because as soon as Q sat down he began smiling again. He had a very pretty smile. "The suitcase is actually not that old James. I bought it just a few months back."

"I would have thought they stopped making those after World War 2."

Q’s smile turned mischievous. "Oh absolutely. But you know what they say - Time is relative." "Of course it is" James muttered and took a sip from his large Coca Cola. At this point he was very sure that nothing could startle him anymore.

Q’s expression grew serious. "No, really. There's a black hole just below the market place in the abandoned tunnels, so time there is passing much slower."

James shrugged. Honestly, what had he expected. "So, why do you carry a suitcase around?"

"To keep my stuff in it. Well I say stuff. it's actually just a teleporter to Q-branch, so I carry it around in case I need to go back." Q answered lightly.

"There's a mobile teleport station in your suitcase, which you bought a few months back but also in 1920. "

"Yes. Although when you phrase it like that it does sound rather absurd."Q mused. "But I believe you had a few questions?"

"You have no idea" James answered honestly, still eyeing the suitcase. A few didn’t even remotely cut it. "You know I’m an Agent, you know I’m looking for the Quartermaster and you know the Quartermaster."

Q nodded thrice. "And your question is?"

"How?"

"I told you I had agents didn’t I? I even showed you."

James cocked an eyebrow in question "Your minions?"

"They’re my interns. The hooded figures, you know, from the dog park work as my agents. And some Erikas, when they feel like it."

James frowned.

"You know. The angels which don’t exist?"

"I thought no one is to refer to the angels, or hooded figures for that matter. It said so on the sign. "

"Of course," Q smirked "but it also says in very fine script just underneath that that government officials are exempt from that rule."

"You do work for the government then?"

"Of course not, I told you the government didn't actually exist. I am the government. Although it took me a whole three weeks to eradicate the existing government without anyone noticing" "And you’re the head of the scientific community? and the only radio host in town? It seems you are a busy man Q"

"Busy? Yes. Efficient? Also yes. Why do you think they want me back?"

"Who?"

"MI6 of course. I used to work for them but I'm currently taking a sabbatical. Well, I call it a sabbatical, they call it Missing."

"You know the Quartermaster from your work at 6 then?"

"Hm, I suppose you could say that." Q leaned forward and folded his hands under his chin "Tell me James. What do you want with the quartermaster?"

"As you've pointed out so cleverly on the radio I dont want anything from him. But I suppose MI6 might want their employee back."

Q leaned back again and began to rock back and forth on his chair’s hind legs. "I guess that’s a valid point. I never did resign properly after all," He mused.

"Q is short for Quartermaster then?"

"Of course. I told you I’d never tell you my name. I dont think anyone still uses it, except for Mummy of course...” he trailed of.

“I have to say, I had my suspicions Q”

“ Shall we go then? We can take some pizza if you'd like."

"I’m not actually hungry. I havn’t been hungry or tired or thirsty since I arrived."

"Ah yes, thats Nightvale for you, " Q said offhandedly. "Alright then. Let’s head to that car of yours. Wonderfull piece of machinery."

"Why, thank you Q"

"Especially the various extra features of course. There are quite a bit. Or so they tell me"

"You won't stop saying that in the near future, are you?" James asked with a smile on his lips.

"Not in a million lifetimes." Q chipped easily. "Now, James. I don’t think I've properly introduced myself. I'm your new Quartermaster."

#007 fest 2020 #team00 #00q #pre relationship #welcome to night vale #au #005.Vi

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[RF] Blue

All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug off the past. I think that is who I am…or to be truthful, that is who I used to be.

Before this evening, I was a practical girl who did not let clouds of impossible dreams bring torrents of ambitions flooding down into life. Years ago, I had forsaken my dream of becoming a singer, and I was content to toil at a 9 to 7 job to have a fixed, modest amount credited to my account at the end of each month. My relationship with my school friends gradually started weakening as they reminded me of my unrealized dreams. Every time they started talking about how I used to win every singing competition in my school, I felt my heart being pricked by an invisible needle.

I think one does not become adult when one celebrates one's eighteenth birthday; adulthood begins with the realization of the difference between dreams and reality. And I had no complaints about this difference. I had forgotten my past long ago, the past where I dreamed of becoming a singer, the past where I dreamed of reading all the classics once I finished school. I had even forgotten my hobbies. Months had passed since I had watched TV, something without which I couldn’t survive in my school days. But like a gust of wind, an incident which took place this evening blew away the fog of my past dreams.

I was at the stop near my office waiting for the bus that would take me home. It was raining heavily. The sky looked like a young lady in a gray dress, weeping bitterly for her lover who was faraway. I was tired after a long day’s work at office, so I sat on the wooden seat under the shelter. There was no one else at the bus stop, and that was a pleasant change for me for I loved being alone. The seat was a comfortable one, and could easily accommodate two people. Just as I had put my office bag beside me on the seat, I heard a sound. It was the sound of someone running through the puddles of rain water. I looked in the direction where the sound was coming from. A man was running towards the bus stop, holding an office bag over his head. The bag was no help keeping him dry from the rain. He stood near the seat, panting. I felt that I had seen him somewhere.

“Could you please…?” he said, pointing towards my bag, which lay innocently on the seat.

“Oh, yes! No problem!” I said, taking the bag to put it over my lap.

He sat beside me. I got a close look at his face. "Is it him...?" I asked myself. Yes...it was indeed him. But he was looking much different without his glasses.

At that moment, the past was pleading like a timid tenant for me to let it come back into my life. And I allowed it to come in.

Ten years before, I used to take the bus to school. I had to wait for my bus at the stop near my home. The waiting time varied from fifteen to fifty minutes. One day, when the bus was later than usual, I grew tired of looking at the gaudy shutters of the shops which had not yet opened in the early morning. So, I started singing my favorite song.

In the middle of the song, I felt that someone was looking at me! A boy with thick glasses covering a large portion of his shy face was staring at me. I felt awkward, and he must have felt the same, for he started to look away after I caught him looking at me. We didn’t speak a word to each other. After half an hour, my bus came, and I got on. I intentionally chose a seat where he could not see me.

From then on, each day he used to arrive at the bus stop before I did, and we used to wait for our respective school buses without speaking anything to each other. He just used to look at me, and blushed whenever I caught him. It was evident that he had developed a soft spot in his heart for me since the first day he saw me. But I didn’t want to be involved in any such thing. So, I adopted a cold attitude towards him, so that he wouldn’t get any wrong signals from me. I behaved in a haughty manner, in front of him. But sometimes it was hard for me to suppress my giggles at his nervousness in front of me.

I looked at him stealthily. He was looking at the screen of his mobile. The raindrops beating the ground were playing the perfect background music. The tantalizing smell of wet soil filled my nostrils. I adjusted the rim of my spectacles. I wanted to tell him, “Ten years ago, you used to wear glasses and I didn’t wear them; now I have spectacles and you have none”. But that would break the unwritten pact of silence between us, which had already been broken by his speaking 'Could you please...?' He looked back at me. It was the same awkward moment, but this time, it was I who was caught.

Whenever I had a singing competition at school, I used to rehearse my song at the bus stop. He would then give me encouraging looks, as if he wanted to say, "All the best!"

One day, when I was alone at the bus stop waiting for my school bus, a stray dog attacked me. I was too scared to call anyone for help. Then he came and started to divert the dog’s attention by throwing his lunch in front of it as bait. His idea worked, and the dog left me to gorge itself on the food. I looked at him with gratitude for a millisecond, but then I remembered his feelings for me. So I looked away from him as if he were not even present there. But he was not bothered by my indifference towards him. He was happy that I was all right, and his body language radiated that happiness.

From that day on, that dog became a regular visitor at our bus stop. It looked at us whenever he looked at me. It seemed as if the dog supported his feelings for me. He had even started to call the dog by a name- Simba. I felt it was a weird name for a dog, but the dog behaved as if it was his close friend. Sometimes, I used to think that the dog’s attack on me was a part of a conspiracy between him and Simba. But I knew that it was just a stray dog, not his pet that he could have trained to attack me.

He did not look the same without his glasses. It seemed as if with his spectacles, his innocence and his shy nervousness were gone too. He didn’t seem to care that I was sitting next to him on the same seat. After ten years, I realized that I missed him when he was so close to me. A part of me longed for him to become the same shy school boy as he was ten years before, the boy who knew that I could sing, the boy who used to look at me with tender love in his eyes, the boy with whom I shared the most beautiful phase of my life which had been buried in the past till this evening. But seeing him again, after ten years, made me realize that with time, all things become stale, even love...

While these ten years had wilted his love for me, the dormant seed of love in my heart started budding on seeing him again. He was wearing a blue shirt, and I was wearing a blue kurti. Blue had a special meaning in our silent relationship. Ten years before, I had a blue school bag, and the color of his school bag was also blue. I feared that he would interpret this to mean that I reciprocated his feelings. So I persuaded my father to buy me a new school bag.

“Why do you want a new school bag when I just bought you the one you have last month?" Papa was surprised at my unexpected demand.

“I don’t like it now. Please buy me a new one”, I said.

“But you chose this school bag yourself!"

“My choice is really bad! This time, you choose a school bag for me”, I said to settle the matter, but this was a grave mistake, because the new school bag which Papa bought for me was also blue!

I smiled at my zany antics. How scared I was! I was really a fool to behave in that manner, but I was too young then. Too young to understand that love is a beautiful emotion. It is not something to be scared of.

But why was he behaving as if he didn’t know me? Had he forgotten me? But how could he forget someone whom he loved? He was able to see me when he had his glasses, but now even with his perfect vision, he couldn't see my love. Had he really loved me or it was just a rush of teenage hormones? Whatever it was, it had re-infected me..I wanted him to talk to me. He was the only reminder of the real me, who I had buried along with my past. I wanted him to say my name. But did he know my name? I didn’t know his name, either. We were always silent, be it ten years before or this evening. But now I wanted to know his name, his favorite color, his favorite movie. I wanted to know everything about him. I wished Simba was there to support me. “But is the dog even still alive now?” I thought.

A honking sound derailed my train of thought. A bus stopped in front of us. This time, he stood up and got on the bus, leaving me behind. I searched for him, looking through the bus windows, but I could not see him.

As the bus continued its way splashing muddy water, I started humming a tune. It was a strange feeling, to do something which one had forgotten. I continued humming. The raindrops and crickets sang along happily with me. I exited the bus shelter and let the raindrops caress me as a mother caresses her daughter. I had never felt so alive in the last ten years.

It is only now, at 11 p.m., that I am remembering what happened this evening. I can’t sleep tonight. Old memories and new love will keep me awake the whole night. I will now download some TV serial episodes and watch them. Tomorrow, I will wear another blue dress of mine and in the evening, I will wait for him at the bus stop near my office and when he comes, I will look at him the same way he used to stare at me ten years ago. I will be hurt in the same way by his indifference as he was hurt by my coldness ten years before, but I will not stop looking at him. And I will sing again, not for the sake of any prize or praise, but for his lost feelings, for my infant love and for our shared, silent memories. I have decided this very evening that I will love him forever with the same commitment as blue sapphire in betrothal rings.

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