A/N: Hi, everyone. I'm still riding on a wave of being back hype, so this was a quick write. :)
I've been watching Elite Force, because I'm participating in a holiday fic exchange, and that's what my person wanted. And... it makes me so sad. A concept that really should have been amazing, characters that I love, reduced to mindless comedy. Chase became an utter jerk, regressed completely, and Oliver became nothing but a love interest. This is one of those times where I look at a show, and genuinely think, "Wow, I think I could write that better," honestly. Just- elgh. I'll stop complaining now, and get onto the story.
Episode: None, really
Rating: Low T, prolly
Warnings: I was annoyed enough for Kaz to swear a teensy bit in this one. It's nothing too bad, but still, I promise not to make it a habit.
Inspiration: I needed some redemption for my favorite Mighty Med character, and Oliver was only too willing to oblige. :D
Be the one who makes someone smile today! :) And if you have a minute, I'd love to hear what you think of this.
A boy stood, face grim, suiting up for a mission. A vest, bulletproof, went over his head, and a sash of grenades followed. He settled it with gentle, practiced hands, ice in his eyes never thawing. The boy ran his hands over the pockets in his cargo pants, mentally going through all the gear within. He nodded, satisfied, and picked up his high tech gun. The boy's lip curled slightly; he didn't like guns, but he knows that it'll serve him well this time. This mission is deathly serious, and worth braving the hated weapon for.
After he's certain he has everything, the boy turns. His best friend, his brother in all but blood, leans against the wall with careful carelessness. He's eying the other boy with veiled concern in his dark eyes. "You don't have to do this, you know," he says, almost casually, but with a weight to his words. The boy nodded in response, icy eyes thawing a little.
"I know," he answered quietly. "But I hate this. It's just not worth it."
"You'll have to go to-"
"I know."
Silence a moment, then the dark-eyed boy pushed off from the wall, and walked over to his friend. "At least let me come with you. You might need some backup."
The boy shook his head. "No. It's dangerous out there."
"That's why I want to come!" He looked hard at his friend, near pleading in his eyes. "Come on, man."
The boy shook his head, eyes solid ice again. "No. They'd miss us both. On my own, I have a chance. I know you have my back. I just need you to have it here."
His friend stared at him for a moment, and then dropped his gaze, shaking his head. "Alright, man," he said, quietly. "Okay. Just..." He lightly punched the boy's arm. "Come back safe, yeah?"
The boy nodded, eyes still cold, but now filled with something like fire. He gave a small smile. "Yeah. Count on it."
"I will," the other boy responded seriously. "If you're not back in two hours, I'm coming after you. I don't care if they notice, I'm coming after you anyway."
The boy nodded, grimly. "Understood." He turned to go, but his friend called him back.
"One more thing," he said, a savage light in his eyes. The other raised a questioning eyebrow. "Give 'em hell," the darker boy told his friend. The boy nodded, resolutely, and walked out, feeling his friend's eyes follow him out of the room.
:E-F:
The meeting room is quiet, the writers inside all concentrating, scratching notes, or scribbling frantically. No one makes a sound, besides occasionally chair squeaks and sighs of frustration. The dim room is suddenly flooded with light as the door abruptly flies open. Silhouetted in the bright light, framed like some avenging angel, a figure stands imposingly. Person by person, eyes widen in recognition and shock, as they see someone they only thought they would see in their imaginations.
"Good day," Oliver says, flipping his bangs out of his eyes as he grins. He holds a high-tech weapon with steady hands. "I just came to remind you that I'm not, in fact, just a love interest, and do actually have some purpose besides mooning after Skyler. You seemed to have forgotten, and I thought I would... encourage you to reconsider."
He walked in, shutting the door behind him with one foot, and sitting in a chair with another blinding grin. "I'd start writing about now."
The writers do as he says, and Oliver looks on with deep satisfaction as, for once, his character is actually realized and appreciated.