The Aftermath

Isabel stepped out of the portal and was followed quickly by Myth (who, predictably, ended up on the ground, having tripped over Isabel's mini-Aragog, Jhames), Diana (who tripped over Isabel's Mini-Balrog, FrodoÉ, and who, by some amazing feat of physical prowess, managed to stay on her feet), Hlisolf, Ling, Salibalf, Gringath and Pulroth (all five moving with the grace only elves could manage).

Diana turned and addressed the elves. "All right troops, to the recruitment training center!" She grabbed the two nearest elves and dragged them off down a random corridor. The remaining three followed closely, not wanting to be left alone with the scary twitching woman or with the woman who had the scary eyes.

The partners were left in the response center, one humming absently while lying on the floor, the other doodling on a rather large packet of paper on the desk.
"Attention, attention please!" Both women jumped and looked around wildly for a moment, before realizing that the voice came from an intercom.
"The sunflower official has a few announcements he would like me to make. Number one: All agents are now required to write reports of their missions, as well as turn in their charge lists."
"We have to write reports?" Myth squeaked.

"We have an intercom?" Isabel asked, opening her eyes.
"Number two: All new recruits are to report directly to the S.O. That is all. Thank you for your attention." The woman's voice shut off.
"Well..." Isabel stretched out like a cat and stood up. "You get to write the report, Myth." She walked over to a pile of cushions on the floor while Myth was sputtering.
"Wha- what the - but - why me?"
"Because I need to get some sleep before our next mission." She curled up on the pillows, shifted around for a bit, then settled.
"But... but..."
"G'night."
"Stupid senior partners."

Well, that's all for this story, folks. Thank you so much for reading, and keep in touch for upcoming stories! We've got a bunch in the mix. If you spot any out there, send them to us at vic.and.