UNCLASSIFIED – FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY
DESCRIPTION OF EVENT:
The suit of armor stood out for many reasons. The intricate craftsmanship of inlays, etchings, and the inclusion of various precious metals bespoke of immense wealth for such a custom fitting. Its location was another peculiarity. It had been left standing in the middle of the chamber, demanding attention of all who passed by. The translucent, black mist escaping from the helm’s open visor and various joints however encouraged those present to give the armor a wide berth. But in truth, it was the unblinking, frozen blue-eyed stare that really unsettled Lawrence.
Shaking from a combination of nerves, dehydration, exhaustion, and the unnatural chill emanating from the silent form, Lawrence attempted to speak. “Ah um, Si..sir Greshaim, it’s a pleasure to uh, see you. Again. T..to what do I owe the erm, pleasure of a visit from Special Ops?”
Echoing up from the plated metal in a voice hauntingly reminiscent of lost parents and loved ones, the knight replied, “I require your finest team.”
A moment passed before Lawrence realized nothing else would be forthcoming.
“Well, you have to fo..forgive me. Team Alpha just left and the Hatchlings are all on mission. I can get an Egg class team together but I’d need some more information to select a group with the appropriate talents and ah- abilities…” His voice dwindles before the unrelenting stare of the Knight.
The voice flatly declared, “They will deal with the Fae. They will pursue, survive, and put question to the Candyman.”
Lawrence blinked and repeated, “The Candyman?”
The listless agents idling in the corner of the room took up the cry, “THE CANDYMAN CAN!” and proceed to break into song.
“Sir Greshaim, who are these ah… strange—and I’m certain wonderful—individuals?”
“They are the last agents who encountered the Candyman. Their bodies are maimed and their minds broken.”
A man with bandages across his face shambles over and places his face against the Greshaim’s motionless armored form. Small sounds of pleasure escape his lips, “Mmm… so cool. Abacinate sounded like food, how could I have known?” His weak cooing continues as a small band of frost forms over his face.
Greshaim eases the man off his armor and gently directs him back into the corner. “That was Walter, he had his eyes melted with a flat iron plate.”
“I miss Gremio! He was cute and cuddly and snuggly and oh so friendly. I just want to hug him forever and ever!” a halfling agent squeeks.
Greshaim turned away from the injured and continued, “Lawrence. The Candyman has left Arbenzafe and been spotted in Slumland. He is under your jurisdiction now and I expect you to take care of it. The Candyman is a Fae dissident and no longer under their protection. Find him and restore the health of these agents by any means necessary.”
The hafling chimed in again. “Erin’s adorable too. I wouldn’t hug her being erinaceous and all, but she really knew the right way to go.”
Lawrence stammers and looks around the room. “I, Uhmm, Oh dear. Well, team Bagpipe is here and I believe they possess the necessary skill set for dealing with Fae. They have one of the Agency’s best trackers with them… normally. Uhhh… I don’t see him at this moment, but I’m sure it will be fine. They can take the Agent Miles in his place.” His voice momentarily gets louder. “Team Bagpipe and Miles Adagio, get over here! There is ah, a new mission.”
The mass of wounded agents continue to sing: “Red and Yellow, Pink and Green, Purple and Orange and Blue. I can sing a rainbow, Sing a rainbow, Sing a rainbow too. Listen with your eyes, Listen with your eyes, and see everything you see. Follow the rainbow!”