Another Day of Whiteboard Doodles on the Henry Stickmin Whiteboard
Including Dallas going through various scenarios including being in the Stickmin version of the Creation of adam (we need more artists, it's on the leftmost area of the whiteboard)
if you remember who this oc is, you're entitled to a veteran's discount
...you're also entitled to a 1.6k fic i wrote last night and finished this morning, because i love writing Naught and replaying Completing the Mission last night made me think about crossovers. in my defense, Henry cameos twice in Animator vs Animation, of course i'm gonna think about his entourage of goofuses and +1 CCC agent that's in way over his head
(fic under cut!)
"Hey Henry!" An unexpected voice made Henry pause partway through closing the door behind him. He sighed and turned to spot Naught putting on his hat. Must've caught him on his way out while he was on his way in. The scruffier stick was full willing to hang around a bit longer to catch up, though. "How'd tryouts go?"
Henry leveled an unimpressed look as he limped his way inside. Naught cringed as he tossed a gadget onto his side table. As usual, his luck had screwed him over. It had taken forever to get him out of the wall, and somehow that hadn't counted as a FAIL he could retry his way out of. Naught's eyes flicked from the teleporter back to Henry. "...again?"
"Why does a tech company need mercenaries, anyway?" Charles was sprawled out on the couch and bouncing his leg. Henry didn't miss the way Naught lit up when he joined in on the conversation; teasing him could wait, though. "Like, that's weird, right?"
Ellie, on the other end of the couch and trying to avoid getting whacked by Charles's constant movement, crossed her arms. Henry collapsed on the floor next to her, and she spared him a brief glance before voicing her thoughts. "Didn't Rocket Corp nearly go under after the Disappearance?" she asked. The casual mention of the tragedy made Naught wince. "The founder had to step up as CEO, and it hasn't exactly been doing great."
Henry groaned. It's not like he thought about any of this beforehand. He'd just been hoping for a quick buck; he was paid well, sure, but sometimes you need a little extra to patch over some bad decisions. Now that they were talking about it, though, Rocket Corp looked like it was doing well for itself despite being a company on the supposed brink of bankruptcy.
"I don't know about you," Ellie said, "but something's fishy."
Three pairs of eyes landed on Naught. Or, more specifically, on the logo embroidered on his hat. Naught returned their stares with a blank look that swiftly turned nervous. "...why're y'all staring at me?"
Henry put a hand to his chin and smirked deviously as he leaned in. On Naught's other side, Ellie played up the conspiratorial look in her eyes. "Oh, Mr. CCC~" she called. "Want a new mission?"
Charles scratched the back of his head. "It'd be a huge help, y'know," he said. "Uh, if you're up for it, I mean. You're the guy with connections."
Naught wilted.
-
Naught felt so, so incredibly out of place. The stick sitting in front of him was serious, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and lineart smooth like a professional. It was a far cry from his own messy line weight and awkward proportions. If anything, the lack of detail made him look streamlined rather than simplistic; this was a secret agent, or someone made for battle, not a background extra with a 3-star bio card. (Maybe 2-star, if he was being generous about himself.)
Ah, man, what had he gotten himself into?
"So, uh," he started. Naught cleared his throat and tried again with a little more confidence. "I'm here on behalf of the Center for Chaos Containment."
The judgemental stare made him shift in his seat. What was a CCC lackey doing here, anyway? They'd never bothered with Stick City before, so having one show up out of the blue was unusual.
(Naught was quietly thankful that he had so much experience with nonverbal communication thanks to Henry. He tried to not think about how readable he might be in return.)
He pulled the rolled-up poster out of his hammerspace and spread it out on the table. The impassive face of a black stick figure stared back up at him. "We received a tip that Rocket Corp is working to apprehend the- The Chosen One." Naught swallowed. That had been a shock. Not that he had any hands-on experience with the stick in question - it'd been long before his time - but Henry's reaction had said enough. This was the stick that had rampaged across the internet?
They looked… unassuming. Just the most simple stick figure you could get: a hollow circle with five thick lines making up their body. No detail, no expression. It was kinda funny. Or, at least, it had been until Henry grabbed the wanted poster from Charles, pointed angrily at the notorious cyberterrorist, and laid out exactly how they'd gotten that label and how he knew. Henry had survived their attacks not once, but twice - first on StickPage, then on Newgrounds. The Chosen One wasn't someone to mess with.
The mention of their target got the agent to lean in with renewed focus. Score. "Their state- uh, status as a high-profile source of chaos has had them on our list for years, but we haven't had much luck tracking them down." Naught ran over each carefully crafted sentence in his head over and over. Ellie had written a good script for him to follow, and if he pulled this off then he'd be golden. He clasped his hands in his lap to stop himself from drumming on the table. "At least, until we traced their recent area of operations to somewhere near Stick City."
Naught paused and glanced at the mercenary. He nodded for him to continue. Naught bit back his nerves and pulled a second poster out of his hammerspace. He spread it out next to the first. "We know Rocket Corp is seeking help—"
The agent held up an arm to stop him. Naught clamped his mouth shut. Dangit. He leaned back as the other stick reached over and moved it closer to him. A couple taps, an unimpressed stare - mercenary tryouts were over. If he was hoping to apply, he was out of luck.
He held up his hands and tried to keep a steady voice. "Ah— N-not quite!" A slight tilt of the head made him want to sink into his seat. Great, his act was slipping, and he found it amusing. It's fine. Stick to the script. He can salvage this. Instead of melting away, Naught forced himself to sit up straight and folded his hands on the table. "The CCC doesn't do hands-on work." With one exception: me. That was, unfortunately, why he'd been bullied into this. Most CCC operatives solved problems long-distance; a field agent like Naught was practically unheard of, and his performance record meant that there probably wouldn't be another.
"Instead, I want to work as a li- a, uh, a liaison." Dangit why did it have to be a word that's hard to pronounce?! He ducked his head so the agent wouldn't see his embarrassment over the fumble. "The CCC will share any information we have about The Chosen One and potential tactics of capturing and neutralizing them, and in return Rocket Corp will do the same. If you accept, we'll work together to stop this threat." It took all of his willpower to stop himself from fidgeting. "And, as the lia- liaison, I'll be the point of contact."
That was the most important part. Not only did he have to get them to agree to working with the CCC in the first place, he had to get them to agree to working with him. Any direct contact with the CCC itself and this whole plan would collapse. Naught became brutally aware of the precarious position he'd put himself in and wished that he'd tried a little harder to talk Triple Threat out of it.
The other stick - who was this guy, anyway? Second-in-command? - considered his words. Naught tried to look passive and not like he was about to die of a nerves-induced heart attack. After an achingly long pause, he pointed at him. It took Naught a couple beats to catch his meaning. "My, uh- my name?" A nod. "Leo Naught, sir." He bit back the reflexive just call me Naught! The arm moved up to indicate his hat. "I'm, um, with the- the Central branch. Of the CCC." Now that he was off-script, his voice was starting to waver as he tried to string words together on his own. He scrambled around for any sort of credential that would win him over. "I have, uhm, di- direct experience with, uh- with- with Category 10 incidents!" (Translation: with Henry.) "So- so I'm pretty qualified, I think—"
A dismissive wave cut him off. Naught froze stock-still as every part of his brain caught fire in a screaming riot. Ellie was going to kill him if this guy didn't first. Worse than that, Charles was going to be disappointed in him. If he botched this right at the end—!
The chair scraped against the floor as the Rocket Corp representative got to his feet. Naught eyed his outstretched arm warily. The smallest of nods got him to let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The mercenary had to run it pass the CEO, of course, but assistance from the CCC would be appreciated. He would be contacted within the week, and any and all information about The Chosen One would need to be handed over as soon as possible.
Naught stood up and failed to mask the look of relief on his face. A couple of awkward moments passed before he realized the agent still had his arm extended. "Oh, uh—" He raised his hand cautiously, then grabbed the detail-less end of his arm in a handshake. Interacting with sticks in a different style was weird. He'd have to get used to it.
A pair of featureless grey sticks led him back outside the compound. Naught waved them off, then slumped over and banged his head against a metal fencepost. A shaky hand clicked a button on the earpiece hidden by his messy hair. "Hey, Henry? We're in the clear."
#f1
#the amazing digital circus
#photography
#cats on tumblr
#heated rivalry
