McYoma
A/N. Hello, back again. In a moment of madness I stumbled across the following equation - Priscilla + Nom Nom Nom + Bad Luck + Flora = This Fic.
Please enjoy and thank you to anyone who reads it.
Warning: Contains OOC and dismal attempts at humour.
Also Raki fans beware.
Disclaimer: I do not own Claymore or any of its characters. Nor do I own or work at McDonalds.
She was a great hulking winged beast. Her awakened form's towering height was significant even by the standards of voracious eaters. She was no mere awakened being. The single horn that jutted from her forehead only served to make her more formidable. The slow way in which her head turned to reveal yellow vacant eyes sent the coldest shivers through those unfortunate enough to catch her attention. Her voice was a deep resonating monotone and the arrogant words that fell from her lips were not idle talk as she had the skill to back up the lazy threats she made. Priscilla, former claymore number two was a frightening sight to behold. She could forever strike fear into the hearts of those who dared utter her name. With just one look she could send those who dared to challenge her to their early graves. Priscilla was one's worst nightmare and that opinion held firm even when Isley's second in command was seated upon her prized tricycle.
"What?" the great beast uttered. Her tricycle seat squeaked as she leaned closer to the source of such disrespect.
A deafening silence in which only the pink tassels hanging from the handlebars moved gently in the wind fell upon the drive-thru. Then the unthinkable happened. The voice from the speaker box spoke again in the same defiant tone that had sparked Priscilla's righteous anger.
"We don't sell guts at any of our participating restaurants."
What unspeakable transgression was this? Priscilla drew herself up to her full height regarding the puny speaker box with a look that would have melted lesser boxes and a faint smirk crossed the frightful beast's face. How long had it been since she had faced such a challenge? A challenge that sent her blood boiling inciting her into action. It had been too long since she had crossed paths with that traitor. But she had not been afraid of that insignificant claymore. She had slain her and the mighty Priscilla would not be denied by a mere voice filtered through a box.
"I want eighty-four orders of guts," she commanded once again. "Preferably fresh," she added as an afterthought.
She needed to provide the restaurant with some level of mercy. Isley had warned her not to draw attention to herself during such a vital part in their planning. Silence greeted her and Priscilla's smirk widened. Victory once again…until the box came to life once more and an agitated sigh was heard over the speaker.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave so I can serve the next customer."
Priscilla bristled upon hearing such insolence. Her handlebars shook as she gripped them in barely repressed rage. She had tried to be nice. Tried to dispel the bad press that awakened beings had gathered over the years. She had tried to show that she could be level headed but this had gone too far. This stupid voice needed to be taught a lesson.
"I have tried to reason with you but its seems you are a truly stupid girl."
She had hoped the situation wouldn't have degenerated to this level. Contrary to popular belief Priscilla liked getting along with people it was just that sometimes they were so annoying. As if to validate her claim the red sports car behind her let out a shrill honk from its horn.
"How long you gonna take to order? I don't have all damn day!"
Everyone seemed to be getting in her way this morning. The driver's anger vanished in the mere seconds it took for Priscilla to level a glare at him. He squealed as the force of her gaze sent several cracks through his windshield.
"I'm so sorry! Take as long as you please" he begged for mercy.
The great Priscilla did not need a mere human's permission but nevertheless she would take as long as she needed to get what she came for. This was shaping up to be quite the battle. For all his planning even one as crafty and careful as Isley could not have foreseen the obstacles she would have to battle in order to return home victorious with the army's lunch.
"Girl. I would rather not deal with a rude being such as yourself. Bring out your number one."
The impact of her statement was reinforced by the tinker of the bell upon her precious tricycle as it knew its master was about to draw her sword and end this injustice. Another heavy sigh was heard over the speaker and a tired voice could be heard shouting.
"Flora we've got a black card."
Inside the restaurant matters were not improving. While Priscilla awaited her opponent, front counter crew member Veronica gave another tense smile to her customer. Inwardly she cursed her fate and bad luck. Why in all that was good and holy had she the honour of picking the number thirteen straw? It was a long standing tradition within this particular branch that whoever picked the number thirteen and fourteen straws would be sentenced to front counter duty for the next month. This would have been bearable but Cynthia the unfortunate number fourteen had called in sick today of all days. She had not been given a moment to bemoan this turn of events when her first customer had appeared and from there they had gotten progressively worse. But all this previous torment paled in significance when compared to her current customer.
He had entered clad within a hooded cloak that obscured his features and she had noted that his aura was most suspicious. He had stalked towards the counter circling the area several times like a predator waiting to pounce and he had startling her as he slammed his hands upon the counter.
"What is the best meal upon your menu?" he demanded silver eyes blazing.
Inching away from him as her heart tried to catch up the beats that his actions had cost her, Veronica considered the question. The fish burger was quite good in her opinion and the vast majority of people seemed to order the cheese burger. Cynthia had once had a dream about the chicken burger so she added that to the list after all it must be good if someone as astute in the arts of good food for healing the stomach of all aliments had dreamt about it. The grand Angus was another fine meal according to friend of the franchise Deneve. But perhaps she had only approved of it due to its size as it proved the perfect fit for Helen's big mouth and provided at most four minutes of golden silence. To conclude her list Veronica added the children's favourite happy meal.
Upon hearing her suggestions the customer had gone completely silent and had remained that way for a good half hour. She was about to request his order again when he suddenly sprang to life with a vicious grin upon his face.
"Superb! Five strong ones!"
He let out a maniacal cackle throwing back his hood to reveal straight black hair with his fringe falling just short of his narrowed cat-like eyes. The tips ended with sharp points giving him an animal-like appearance. His eyes shone with glee and he announced with a booming voice.
"You have done well mere front counter girl! To have presented me with five strong choices that leave me baffled as to which to accept I applaud you. Magnificent, I Rigardoaccept your challenge!"
Veronica's jaw dropped open as she took in the appearance that struck fear into every front counter employee. Her luck had taken a turn for the worst. Before her in all his glory was the silver taste tester the one who brought ruination to a good many restaurant's name. His scathing reviews could even make mice avoid a restaurant like the plague. Before she could bow down to his greatness he slammed his hands once more upon the counter pointing his finger towards the happy meal.
"This one is victorious!" he thundered.
Her shoulders slumped. Out of all the choices he had to have picked that one. Even though he was the silver taste tester restrictions were absolute within the organisation and must be obeyed. The last time she dared to ignore the restrictions she had spent a cold tenure at the northern chain battling both the customers and the frostbite.
"Unfortunately there is a restriction upon this meal." The words were spoken hesitantly and she reached for the nearby mop in case things turned violent.
"What!" His rage was palpable and she shakily pointed at the fine print at the bottom of the happy meal choice.
"Ages four to ten! Preposterous!"
"No. That only applies to the toys," Veronica answered weakly, hand closing around the handle of the mop.
"Toys?" He looked thoughtful and was soon absorbed in the selection of plush toys offered with the meal. His eyes gleamed upon seeing that a toy lion was amongst the choices.
"I must have this meal!" he thundered, his hands gripping the register so much it moved several inches.
"Sir, I cannot in good conscience allow you to purchase this meal."
"Why?" The silver taste tester was nearly beside himself.
Veronica took calming breaths fearing that what she was about to say would be her famous last words. She spoke slowly enunciating the words as clearly as she could.
"This is a happy meal, Sir."
His face darkened at her words and his eyes seemed to flare.
"I am happy! Cannot you see my blood boiling, girl?" he screeched determined to claim his lion plushy.
Veronica winced. It was time to revisit the northern branch.
In the back area of the restaurant the manager of the eighth branch Flora narrowed her eyes in contemplation. Her wavy light blonde hair which was tied back into an elegant bun only served to add to her serene aura as she gazed coolly at the task in front of her. Fourteen burgers of varying fillings were neatly arranged in a single row each constituting a lone customer's meal. The clock to her right announced that each of the fourteen orders only had a minute left before the restaurant breached its claim of fast service. But Flora was not the least bit worried. These were the moments she lived for. A battle against time in which only the fastest would win.
To gain the position of manager within a branch was no small feat. You were the leader of your fellow comrades and as such needed to show you were competent and in control. Having a special technique could also work in your favour and Flora herself was the proud owner of a most fearsome technique. It had earned her the nickname of windwrapper Flora. Taking a glance at the clock again she noted that only fifty seconds were left. It was time to show she truly deserved such an honour as her nickname bestowed upon her. She gripped the dispenser from where the burger wrappers were kept getting a firm grasp on the edges of a wrapper. Then she struck. The wrapper was drawn so swiftly none could follow its movements and burgers blurred as if a gust of wind was blowing through the restaurant. In the seconds it took for the wind to die down all fourteen burgers were supremely wrapped and ready for consumption.
Flora waved off the gasps of surprise from her fellow workers as they scrambled to place the burgers upon the plates with complementary chips and then hurried them on towards the awaiting customers. Her job done she was about to check on the front counter when a voice from the drive-thru called her name.
"Flora we've got a black card."
Oh, that dreaded phrase. What kind of black card would this customer end up being? Nevertheless, it was a manager's duty to protect those who fought alongside her. She elegantly hurried to the drive-thru.
"Ah Jean what troubles you so?"
Her fellow crew member, Jean looked at her seriously before removing her headset so they could converse in private.
"I have tried everything but this customer is most persistent."
A look of shock crossed Flora's porcelain features.
"Has Riful of the Green Planet tried to use the drive-thru to recruit you again?"
Jean shook her head suppressing the shiver that ran through her body at the mention of the name. That little girl who appeared so innocent was in fact the leader of a most terrifying cause. Although she prided herself on being called leader of the green planet she was not campaigning for an environmental cause at all. She was just lonely and wanting to recruit some friends was woefully misguided concerning the proper means of doing so. Her association with the word green went only as far as its being her favourite colour. Jean had once delivered some food to her hideout in the mountains and the girl had been trying to recruit her ever since. Jean had been lucky to escape with her life so far.
"No. This is much greater," Jean reluctantly admitted. As least Riful had switched targets but then serve Galatea right for mentioning that the small girl should eat more.
"What could be greater?"
Jean took a deep breath. She was very reluctant to involve Flora in such a dangerous matter.
"She is requesting guts."
A silence descended upon them and Flora froze in distress.
"But we don't have guts on the menu," she wailed.
"I have told her but she requests to speak to you. I am sorry and I will gladly cover your escape route while you and the others flee for safety."
She was prepared to lay down her life for the sake of the restaurant and Flora knew this only too well. With shaking hands she took the headset.
"No Jean, this is my battle as manager."
Her crew member nodded solemnly respecting such a fine display of courage from her leader. Flora's hands shook as the headset neared its place upon her head. Knowing the danger she was about to enter, she turned towards the one thing that offered her courage. The employee of the year plaque sparkled back at her filling her with new found strength. Phantom Miria's picture looked back at her in all seriousness. Yes, she must confront this. Miria was watching over her. She could not disappoint the fastest front counter member the chain had ever seen. Determination shining in her eyes, Flora lowered the headset which clamped into place and spoke in a gentle but firm voice.
"May I please take your order?"
Priscilla's split decision to storm the restaurant was brought to a halt as the speaker box in front of her crackled once again to life and a softer more respectful voice was heard. This was the type of service Priscilla wanted. Courteous and helpful. This restaurant would live to see another visit from the great winged beast.
"You must be the manager. I requested eighty-four orders of guts and I want to register one complaint against the rude girl I spoke to earlier."
Priscilla would not spare the girl as she had never encountered anyone as rude as her before. She also hoped that Isley wasn't getting too hungry as she had been gone now for quite some time.
"I'm sorry, Miss. We are not equipped to handle such an order. Would you be interested in the daily specials?"
This time the handlebars literally bent under their master's rage and the bell let out an indignant tinkle at such treatment.
"So you seek to deny me too." Priscilla's tone bespoke her disappointment and her wings fanned out behind her as she struck her fallen avenger pose.
"You insolent being! You fooled me with your kind words which I admit is a tad annoying and as such I will enact justice."
This threat was followed by the crunching of the speaker box within her mammoth hands and the joyful relishing of how easily the infernal nuisance crumbled when faced with her power. The destruction of the speaker box resulted in the headset letting out a loud dying shrill which Flora heard loud and clear. Removing the headset and respectfully burying it within the register, manager number eight let out a loud sigh. The replacement cost of the speaker box would be coming out of her pay. With her serenity marred by exhaustion she turned to face a very worried looking Jean.
"Just charge her for eighty-four fish burgers. I doubt she'll notice the difference."
Battered and still breathing from this latest encounter with an awakened being, Flora made her way towards the back area where the food was prepared. On her way she passed the front counter and vaguely noticed that Veronica was now serving people with a mop firmly clutched in front of her. She also wondered why register three and four were now so close together but decided in the face of what she had just endured that she really didn't want to know.
Knocking on the door that led to the chef's kitchen she entered upon hearing a grunt. Her head chef Undine was sitting upon a fold-out chair, a piece of grass dangling from her taut lips and her bulky frame clad in khaki coloured shirt and pants. A khaki jumpsuit covered the shirt and a fisherman's hat sat lopsided on her head. To complete her dashing fisherman look a fishing rod was tied to the chair, its line cast within a small freshwater pond before her.
"Fish burgers ain't ready."
Flora's shoulders slumped as another wave of tiredness swamped her.
"Oh, forget it," she mumbled.
The front counter had always been Jean's favourite place. She had over the years grown accustomed to the drive-thru but far too many weirdos passed through each day and she was now glad that Flora had put her back on the front counter. Secretly pleased with herself, she handed the small yoma his chocolate whipped ice cream. This was her favourite item to make and no one could match Jean when it came to the intricate layers of the final top swirl. Jean's current record and the record of the franchise was twenty one twists of the final swirl leaving an epic masterpiece for the customer to ogle and to debate most seriously as to whether they had it within their souls to devour such a thing of beauty.
"Excellent work, Jean." Flora's weary voice greeted her and the manager leaned on the counter briefly for support.
"Unfortunately, Undine is running behind on her burger schedule therefore I have no choice but to invite her Royal Yomaness to wait."
As if on cue the glass doors of the restaurant opened and in swept Priscilla. Jean's face went white at the sight of such a towering beast. Swung over her shoulder as if it weighed no more than an empty backpack was her esteemed tricycle. The front counter member's jaw dropped as the beast ducked slightly to enter not wanting to risk scratching her single horn, only for the handles of her tricycle to prove too wide to fit through the opening. Jean's jaw dropped further as she watched the great beast struggle vainly to free her trapped companion from the door's clutches. The killing intent rolled off Priscilla in waves as the struggle continued.
"Jean, you do know that she's lodged a complaint against you?" Flora's gaze was locked onto the battle and she winced as cracks appeared in the glass, sure signs that the door was about to crumble before the mighty beast.
"You know I don't like blemishes on our record and I know that you have given me good service over the years therefore I will give you a second chance. While the burgers are being cooked I want you to attend to Pricilla's needs and look for an opportunity to apologise for what she has mistaken as rudeness from you." Flora reached for a nearby calculator. The price of the speaker box and the glass door would leave her wages seriously depleted. She inwardly groaned.
The glass door at last shattering and freeing the tricycle proved to be an accurate metaphor for the collapse of Jean's world as she registered her manager's request. Jean turned towards Flora and as a cold sweat gripped her body she began to shake.
"Can Veronica go?" Jean had nothing against her fellow crew member but she owed Deneve fifty dollars and Jean was a firm believer that one should not die before paying back one's debts.
Flora's brow rose delicately and she pointed stylishly over Jean's shoulder at the window that offered a view of the drive-thru. There stood Veronica firmly in front of the first car, her mop blocking its way while an order was taken by a frazzled trainee who frantically scribbled it down upon a napkin. With a small nod from the trainee, Veronica lifted up her mop in perfect imitation of a boom gate and stonily waved the car through before bringing the mop harshly down in front of the next vehicle.
"She wouldn't let go of the mop so I had to improvise," Flora explained averting her eyes which did little to dispel her gracefulness.
"I gave you my life when I signed up," Jean told her placing a hand upon her respected manager's shoulder. "If this is the mission in which I lose my life then so be it."
"Oh, Jean let us both live to serve another day!" Tears shone in Flora's eyes and she handed her loyal crew member the one thing she could reach, a newly made choc whirl frappe. Jean took it appreciatively and with one brief heroic nod strode towards her destiny four tables from the counter.
To say Priscilla was in a good mood is just downright disrespectful to such a powerful creature. She sat glowering and even the bell upon her tricycle didn't think it safe to utter a sound. All she wanted was a couple of gut burgers. Was that truly too much to ask for? Apparently so, as the world went out of its way to upset her. Ah, perhaps things were looking up. A brave but foolish restaurant staff member was approaching her. Priscilla shot her a withering glare that served to stop her in her tracks, the drink she held shaking in her hands.
"Peace offering," she yelped.
This caught the winged one's attention. The voice was familiar despite the lack of its rude tone. So, the girl had been offered to her as a sacrifice to appease her and Priscilla couldn't help but praise the manager for coming to such an inevitable conclusion. She would take her time killing this one but first one never turned down free food and she gestured as kindly as she was capable for the girl to approach her. A pair of shaking hands placed the frappe before her and Her Greatness ordered Jean to sit down. The pathetic girl took her seat shooting a forlorn look towards her manager at the counter who instantly buried her face in her own private serviette.
"I am glad you've come to your senses and realised that escape is impossible." Priscilla smiled evilly. "However, before I tear you apart I shall partake of your offering."
Triumphantly, Priscilla greedily downed the frappe to the accompaniment of heroic ringing from her tricycle's bells. Slamming the empty cup on the table, the great beast stood up and reaching up to her full height she haughtily looked down at her prey. Suddenly a look of anguish crossed her mighty features. She gripped her head and a scream of pure agony left her mouth. Jean stared back at her not believing the turn her luck had taken. The great Priscilla undefeated by the many strong warriors of the generations was now suffering brain freeze.
"Help me," she whimpered.
Knowing that she would never get another chance, Jean stood bowing respectfully to the beast.
"I am sorry for my earlier rudeness."
"I don't care! Its fine I forgive you! Just make it stop!" howled Priscilla.
A look of sorrow crossed Jean's face and she observed the awakened being before speaking in a soft voice.
"I'm sorry but it is no longer in my power to help you."
Manager of the eighth branch Flora sat despondent upon the counter, her pristine uniform splattered with a large helping of tomato sauce. Beside her at an equal loss for words sat Jean, an upturned vanilla shake upon her head the contents dripping down the side of her face giving her pearly white side bangs. Undine would have sat with them only she had chased after the customer from hell determined to seek revenge for her broken fishing rod. In front of the two crew members the restaurant lay in ruins. Neither a chair nor table had survived Priscilla's onslaught brought on by her brain freeze induced frenzy. Half of the restaurant was demolished the other half barely standing. It had been Undine dramatic entrance with the burgers that had saved the day. Priscilla had snatched the meal bag from her, broken Undine's fishing rod in petty spite and had ridden off into the distance upon her tricycle. Undine's howl of rage could still be heard echoing within the restaurant.
"I am sorry for my uselessness." Jean broke the silence as the two watched the still standing half of the restaurant groan and give way crashing to the ground.
Flora patted her reassuringly on the shoulder just glad that Jean had shielded her from the vanilla shake.
"It's alright, Jean. But would you be kind enough to wrestle the mop from Veronica? We're going to need it."
Meanwhile in another such restaurant far, far away that was still standing, a claymore and a human boy were in a heated discussion. This was not the first heated discussion that they had found themselves in. As travelling companions it was foreseeable that they would from time to time experience moments of tension. Such as the endless supply of tissues the damn cry baby needed and the ineffective ear plugs they were making these days that did little to block out the sound of his whining. Added to this was the fact that the boy loved playing pin cushion claiming that it was all part of his training in order to grow strong enough to protect her. Oh, the list was endless.
"How long will you be gone Clare?" whined the boy.
The bob-sporting claymore turned silver eyes upon him.
"I will be gone for a week."
She eyed the fifteen boxes of nuggets, one week's worth of provisions piled onto the table in front of the boy. Her response had been met with silence as the boy pondered her words, a truly groundbreaking achievement for him. Perhaps just this once he would leave her alone.
"Then I will take just three." He happily reached his conclusion picking up three of the boxes of nuggets that covered the small table.
He grinned at her expecting praise but the claymore was inwardly deeply disturbed by this turn of events. Travelling with the boy for so long had led her to realise how truly annoying he really was and she would forever curse herself for her slowness in realising, to add insult to injury, that he was only willing to take three of the boxes of nuggets. Did he not know how expensive these were? Claymores were not born with an endless supply of money.
But still he was a boy who knew nothing about the vast cruel world they navigated. She reached up a hand moving to ruffle his hair but on second thoughts changed her mind as memories of all his whining flashed across her mind. Her hand instead curled into a fist that smashed into the side of his head. The force of the blow sent him tumbling into the bench upon which sat the restaurant's smiling mascot Rubel McYoma. The claymore ignored him letting out a low growl that left no room for argument.
"Shut up and eat your nuggets."
A/N. P.S. A huge thank you for the anonymous reviews for my previous fic. Also, anonymous viewer z, another Miria x Galatea fic is currently in progress but unfortunately I suck at writing romance, but I'll see what I can do.