"Hello, Agent Russ. Agent Russ? Come in, Agent Russ!"
Impulse.
Breathe.
You're not dead yet, Agent.
Your eyes snap open with a ragged intake of breath. The call to report draws on deep held instincts and your mind, automatically, throws its senses open to your circumstances and spills the vaults of your memory wide open.
This is a terrible mistake. The latest of many.
You are sitting in a softly lit, wood-paneled room, with two doors. One is open, but a shimmering barrier over the opening makes it clear that you will not be leaving. Your coat, glasses, and watch are sitting on a small carved stand infuriatingly out of reach on the other side, leaving you with a dress shirt, slacks, and shame. There is a chair, an ankle-high bench, and a window fully obscured by some tightly knit lattice. A crucifix hangs on the wall.
For some reason, you are in a confessional. Great. What a lovely place to recount your sins.
You have no idea where the rest of your team is. You've been captured by some of the most magically powerful people on this continent. Every trick you had was not enough, every step you took was your choice down this road, and you have not actually accomplished anything since the last thing you trusted melted into a crazed laugh, and the impression of mad red eyes.
"Agent Russ!"
Your brain finally comprehends that you are being spoken to by an actual voice, not the ghost of your first boss calling you to account.
"Monogram?" You croak, eyes roaming. The voice is coming from-
Your watch!
You leap towards the barrier and are rewarded with a nasty burn for your troubles. You allow yourself the luxury to swear inside your own head.
A moment later you 'allow' yourself the luxury of swearing aloud.
"Agent Russ?" Monogram's voice comes again, confused, muted.
He's been hearing you the whole time. Of course he has.
"Monogram. Where is everyone?" You ask, still reeling from the burn.
"Kitsune and the wizard got away. The Muppets…"
"Uh… h…hello." A quiet voice croaks out from the as yet unopened door.
"Great." you scowl. "I've roped them into this as well."
"Russ, where are they keeping you?" Monogram asks, a question that strikes you as pointless.
"Your guess is as good as mine." You say with the limited energy you have. "A church, obviously. Small. Probably has a mirror somewhere you can look out of." That makes one of you who can accomplish anything right now.
"Russ, we need to plan, fast. Before someone comes back."
"Then plan." You say. "Go back and see if they can find a way to pull this one out. I don't know anything you don't know, and my contribution to an escape plan is going to be to burn myself on arcane plasma."
"But we need-!"
"Me? You don't." You stand up from the floor and start pacing. "Where have I led us? Directly into a trap with a smile. I take responsibility for this fiasco." You wave a hand. "If I hadn't wasted time with rats-"
"Hey!" A small voice comes from the other side of the lattice.
"Not. Now." You snap. You hear Kermit making a noise of concern.
"If I hadn't let my emotions get the better of me, we would have focused on the mission. We never would have been noticed. I led the Morganians to Blake. It's a miracle I didn't hand deliver our founding document into the hands of the deranged sorcerer who wants to burn it!"
You run a hand through your hair, the tight military crop beginning to wilt slightly.
"I don't know what you expect from me at this point." You sigh, slumping back to the ground.
The door behind you opens, and a frog steps out. Of course, that door was never even locked. It was the perfect setup for a confessional gag, which you completely missed because you can't even get that right.
You choke out a laugh. You can't help it. It's funny.
"And now…" Your mouth can't quite form the words, so instead your hand makes abortive motions intended to convey the idea of 'in front of my hero'. "Because I can't-"
You say a few more things, but none of them matter. You're repeating yourself, refusing to let silence fall at least until you drop unconscious again. A bone-deep narrative sense knows what will happen if the silence falls. So you keep moving. It's a sound strategy.
It has only the mildly inconvenient side effect of making everyone watching you seriously concerned.
"I don't know what to do." You admit finally.
Kermit Diplo Check: Cheer Russ Up
DC 50/85/120
97/62/27% CoS, 98+ 0-
38+35+11+10 (I Promised Me.)=94
Medium Success
Kermit hops up onto the rail beside you, and grabs you by the face. "Mr. Russ."
You blink. Kermit the Frog is forcing you to stare into his eyes. "Kermit, What are you-"
"Now Mr. Russ, you listen to me." Kermit says, firmly and calmly. "Maybe you did screw up. I don't know. I certainly don't understand any of this spy stuff, myself. But why did you go after those rats?
You answer faster than you can think to stop. "I was worried-"
"That uh… someone would get hurt, right?" Kermit asks, and you can't say no.
"Mr. Russ." Kermit says. "I don't think you're a failure. You did what you did because you wanted to help people. Even if you made some bad choices, you've never done anything but worry about others since I met you. Well. That and ask for my autograph, I suppose."
"How come he didn't ask for my autograph?" Rizzo complains.
"Not now Rizzo." Gonzo shushes.
Kermit continues. "Right now, I'm locked in a possibly sacreligious holding cell by a bunch of extravagant evil wizards. And- and there's no one I'd trust to get us out of it more than you."
"Really?" Rizzo asks.
"Think about the people he knows." Gonzo replies.
"Ah."
Kermit stops in front of you, looking up into your eyes.
"...Mr. Russ?"
Right.
Right.
"Monogram, I need you to keep running communications." You say, leaping to your feet. "Using your condition was a brilliant idea. If you can, see if you can spy on them. Listen when they're not expecting to be heard. Figure out where we are and convey it to the others. I'm counting on you."
"That's more like it." Monogram replies with a nod. "What about you?"
"Well." You say, knocking on the confessional walls. "There's only one thing I can influence from in here. If they're pumping me for information… turnabout is fair."
As if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoes through the nave.
"I need to go." Monogram says with a quick glance. "Good luck, Agent."
A polished black boot steps into view just outside the cell. You're still in a very bad spot right now. You're about to be interrogated by a morally unfettered magician, you're completely trapped, your only allies are noncombatants, and you very nearly lost the spark for a moment there.
Are you better? Maybe.
But you are here.
