milliways_bar | Entries tagged with agent 99

It's been a long time since 99's seen this place. On the Milliways end, at least.

Back home, it's only been a couple of days, during which she's permanently relocated to a D.C. apartment and is still dealing with the process of moving in while she waits for her next assignment.

It explains the choice of attire today, at least: a threadbare grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a hole in one knee. She's carrying a box labeled 'KITCHEN' and holding the door open with her knee, though when she sees where she is, she leaves the box on her side of the door and continues on through.

A cup of coffee is definitely in order - and maybe she'll see some familiar faces here if she's lucky.

A woman wearing impressive high heels stalks into the bar, then stops short.

This isn't House's office, Cuddy notes, with added regret - she'd been on her way to give him a strong earful after a new set of lawsuits had been delivered to her office this morning.

She can't say she's all too eager to see Milliways - the last time she was here was a little, well, sensitive. Hands resting on slender hips, she taps one index finger, casting a quick glance around the room.

Eames was in a decisively different form the last time he was here.

The job had gone off without a hitch, and he hadn't even been forced to explain his brief leave of absence from within the dream.

He's beginning to like this place more and more, if the way he's got himself seated in one of the comfier lounge chairs is any indication, feet propped up on a small table, cigarette in hand. He takes another drag, drawing the smoke in, then lets it lazily ghost out of his mouth.

Last, but not least, there is a Chuck sitting at one of the tables.

She's got a plateful of cup pies on her left and an impressive supply of plastic wrap on her right.

In the midst of her wrapping, she may stop to take a break - and sneak a bite of one of the cup pies when she thinks no one is watching.

[ ooc: open until their nexts. ]

notenlightened

Reese is, understandably, much more adjusted to the bar than the last time she was here.

Though that might have something to do with the current lack of blue people - or people of any other color of the rainbow.

Which suits her just fine, because she hasn't had her morning cup of coffee yet. You can talk to her once she gets it.

Annie's first visit was, surprisingly, very successful.

(That might have had something to do with the Guv's helpful explanation, but she's not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.)

It's raining in her world, so she comes in effectively soaked, the brim of her policewoman's hat covered in shuddering water droplets, and immediately starts looking for a place to dry off.

99 knows how to make an entrance.

And parachuting in is one way to do it.

However, she was sort of expecting Africa instead, so this is inconvenient, to say the least.

While she's curious to see where the door in the bar will lead once she's ready to leave, CONTROL never said she couldn't stop to have a drink before proceeding with her mission.

Beckett is out for a run.

It's nicer to get a few laps in here, where time feels pretty much endless and she can head back into the midst of an ongoing investigation like she never left in the first place.

She hits the beach near the tail end of her jog, and stops to savor the view.

[ tiny tags: dani reese, annie cartwright, raylan givens, lucas ]

[ ooc: open until their nexts. ]

works-in-space.livejournal.com

23 years ago, the previous Enterprise had its first encounter with the Romulans. Jim still remembers that like it was yesterday. So he really doesn't need to read anything on the subject. However, sometimes there is something new to read. Specifically, a new assessment of the event from the Romulan point of view. Jim's reading it today, and he's quite engrossed. Though not so engrossed that he isn't available for conversation.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Cubefall isn't doing much for the good captain. Oh, he finds it intriguing, as good explorers should. Alien holidays are very noteworthy. But he has no real interest in being someone or something else (he was a woman once, anyway). And is pretty sure that you really aren't being turned into an animal or robot - he can think of a dozen rational explanations for this, all of which say he would still be himself.

But beyond all that, Jim has his mind on other matters. As might evident from the map of a solar system he's unfurled on a table. And the array of white, black and transparent pieces of Lego spread across said map. It would seem Jim has found a new use for blocks.

Feel free to bother him. Or freak him out.

agent99

Present in the Bar: one double-digit-monikered agent, who breezes in looking like she just stepped off a cruise boat.

(Technically, it's a yacht docked in the French Riviera, but details.)

She brings in the Mediterranean breeze with her, a burst of warm air, as she settles into a seat at the bar wearing what could only be the modern-day homage to Ursula Andress in Dr. No and proceeds to order a drink.

"Anything with an umbrella in it," she decides, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head, and makes herself comfortable on the barstool to wait.

Sometimes, being a spy really does have its perks - even if you've got to take out the leader of a Moroccan drug-trafficking ring to get them.

agent99

[ After this, upstairs: 99 and Kirk work towards a better understanding. ]

[ tiny tag: agent 99 ]

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Jim rides Rachat slowly through the newly fallen snow. It's not a day for galloping but instead for trotting, hoof prints lost in eight to ten inches, powder occasionally swirling around. At least it's sunny, and Jim is warm in his excursion jacket, but he probably won't be out for long.

You can catch him on his ride, or in the stables, or afterwards at the fireplace.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Jim's taken Rachat all the way out by the mountains. The cold and snow seem to both neither rider nor horse. And Jim has a thermos full of really good coffee (made with the beans that Ensign Rager got him for the holidays). Looking back, Jim sees nothing but woods. No woods, no building. Just woods. The topology of things here is, to put it mildly, perplexing.

Later, Jim will ride Rachat back at speeds close to dangerous and then head in for a fresh cup. So if you don't see him all the way out here, you could find him inside by the fireplace. Right now, though, Jim is pondering nature.

[ooc: ~~Work related~~ slowtimes commencing - will tag as I can.]

[Hiyo, tiny tag, away: Agent 99]

agent99

[ OOM: 99 gets saddled with a new partner - and she isn't happy about it. ]

When 99 finds herself in Milliways again, she's not exactly dressed for the occasion.

In fact, she's dressed more for recon at a dinner party thrown by Ladislas Krstic - a long, silvery gown with a long slit up the side of one leg, her long hair gathered up and tucked under a chin-length wig that appears to be on the darker side of brown.

Max, of course, is nowhere in sight, and the timing couldn't be more inconvenient.

99 swears under her breath and prepares to head back through her door.

Until, as fate would have it, one of her high heels breaks, sending her windmilling comically and falling into the lap of the closest sitting person.

[ tiny undercover tag: agent 99 ]

notabricklayer.livejournal.com

Thanksgiving has sailed on by, tragically (or not) without the turkeys Charlie gifted to the mess hall. Those had disappeared along with the boy, and McCoy feels it's more than a fair price to pay. It's near Christmas-time back on Earth, and the mood on the Enterprise couldn't be grumpier. Between teenagers on their first multi-year cruise suddenly realizing they won't be home for Christmas, disgruntled closet fundamentalists taking pot-shots at each other about competing religions, continued drama from those Charlie played his games on, and the current running battle between Kirk's loose command style and Spock's eye to rules and regs, it's a wonder, in McCoy's mind, that someone hasn't set the self-destruct yet.

And every time he thinks it, he finds a bit of wood to knock on, just in case. No need to be tempting Murphy when you're sailing through vacuum in a glorified tin can.

Thus, this particular country doctor can't be too sorry when the door leads not to his quarters, but to a bar where for a little while (one hopes) he won't have to sort out anyone else's problems.

He'd be more than happy to help someone sort out a bottle or two of good Tennessee whiskey, though. He'd be the ruggedly handsome fellow in Starfleet blues bellying up to the bar, in case you're wondering.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Jim is seated near the fireplace, mug in hand, reading. The annual overview of the Klingon Empire has been released, and while very few would say that the crop output of colony worlds is exciting reading, Jim has a tendency to read the report from start to finish.

Which isn't to say that he minds company. Even if he looks engaged. And a little grumpy. Klingons do that to him, even from afar.

[ooc: usual likelihood of work-related slowtime.]

will_scarlett

On the beach a bonfire is burning, there's still light in the sky so its not at its fullest yet. Beside it cords of wood and driftwood are ready to be tossed on so it can go higher.

Not too far away is a table with a cask of rum, bottles of good whiskey and simple food, bread cheese and things for putting on sticks and burning in the bonfire.

Also written in the large careful handwriting of someone who hasn't been writing for too long:

Doc Scurlock: We send him off this eve.

Will is moving about with a mug of rum in hand and watching the fire grow.

(OOC: Consider this like a party post, I'll set up some subthreads below but threadhop and enjoy, this is open as long as it needs to be. Also don't worry if your pup didn't know Doc, its a bonfire on the beach so its open to anyone. Use this as a chance to get to know people and just have fun.)

agent99

She's had trouble getting out of bed all day. In fact, it took a summoning of all her remaining energy to move downstairs to the bar proper before collapsing onto the nearest empty couch.

She's shivering, but there's also a blanket drawn up to her chin, and all she can think is that this is an entirely improper condition to be in.

A part of her is also convinced that her door has returned, but that just might be the deliriousness talking.

[ tiny flu-ish tag: agent 99 ]

notaphony.livejournal.com

The sound of jazz follows Joan into the bar, as does the scent of cigarette smoke.

It might be early here in Milliways - even if it is, she's halfway through a girls' night out with her roommate, Carol, and the door to the ladies' restroom seems to have given way to the bar at the end of the universe, instead.

She brushes her red curls over one slightly bare shoulder and looks around for a familiar face as she steps to stand at one side of the bar.

Meanwhile, her nearly-identical twin is curled up in a booth far on the other side, painting her nails a shade of orangey-red - almost the shade of autumn leaves.

She's working on her second coat now, lifting her hand in front of her face to blow against her fingertips.

A woman who resembles neither of the previous two sits at a table of her own, working on a cold beer.

She's still not sure what to make of this place, but the bar seems to be on her side. (At least she's gone and served her the good stuff.)

The agent otherwise known as 99 is dancing by the lake.

Or, more accurately, she's stretching into what looks to be an impressive arabesque. It's a little chilly today, but not as much in the sun, and she's got leg warmers on, at least.

[ tiny tags: joan holloway, agent 99 ]
[ ooc: open until their nexts. ]

works-in-space.livejournal.com

"Bar," Jim Kirk says with little patience, "I get the joke. Every year I come in on Thanksgiving, and every year you serve me meatloaf shaped like a turkey. Like we used to do on the ship. Very funny," Jim hates AIs with a sense of humor. "Now can you do me a favor and give some some actual turkey?"

Bar makes the meatloaf vanish and replaces it with a few slices of white meat, cranberry sauce, squash, and sweet potato. "That is better. Thank you. And happy Thanksgiving."

Satisfied, Jim takes his plate to a quiet table and sits down to eat. And to read, having found an old but noted book on Billy the Kid.

[ooc: Open to all for the weekend - mun will tag as he can, as always.]

agent99

99 is, in a word, restless.

The problem of being Bound has presented her with the following: she's feeling much more confined than she originally predicted she would, and spending the day in her room - or in the bar, for that matter - isn't going to cut it. It doesn't take her very long to remember the forest outside. It takes her even less time to remember the stables that had been mentioned to her in previous conversation.

It's where she'll find herself an hour or so later, the pockets of her coat filled with a few treats to pacify curious or skittish horses, moving up and down the pens in order to give each one inside an equal amount of attention.

There's something else she can sense about the place, and it's not something she can see so much as feel, but she's fairly certain the horses know it, too: something bad happened here.

[ tiny tag: agent 99 ]

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Jim is out riding, and riding Rachat pretty hard. It's as if he's trying to get away from something. Or trying to find something. As much as riding should relax him, he's on the horse that Kate Barlow introduced him to. And so he ends up thinking about Kate. And Doc. And about Bar justice. And about revenge.

It's all unsettling, and eventually, Rachat tires and Jim is probably approachable. He just might be a bit...grumpy.

[ooc: ~~Dinner break - back soon!~~Back!]

arrow_green

Super hero in the bar. He's over by the fire on the couch drinking a nice hot mug of hot chocolate he's not in costume. There's a lot on his mind. Maybe too much. His eyes look towards where his door was before looking back to the fire in front of him.

Though some might note the quiver of arrows and bow beside him. His free hand is on the bow idly running along it. Not that he's noticed. He's lost in thought. So a distraction might be needed. If that were possible.

[Tiny Tag: Oliver Queen]

agent99

There is nothing particularly unordinary about the young woman who walks into the bar.

(Unless you consider an ankle holster, a set of throwing knives, and a few other deadly and injury-causing weapons strapped to her person out-of-the-ordinary.)

What feels strange to her, though, isn't all that. The weapons? They're just like a second skin - but not quite. Not really. This face of hers is the new part, and it's going to take some time before she can learn to recognize herself in the mirror.

Now, of course, the question becomes: where the hell is she?

[ tiny tag: agent 99 ]