By Dark_One Shadowphyre
(A/N: Let's get one thing straight. The title is not an oxymoron. This takes place somewhere in D.M.P.'s "Pure Insanity #7", during Petros's "Analogous Opponents", and up to Meridian's "Prozac Unit #1". I hadn't originally planned to write a self-insert fic, but after those three stories, I felt I had to add my POV.)
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* Part One *
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The realm of FanFiction.Net was dismal to say the least. What had once been the thriving capital of Animorphdome was a dismal battlefield. The red-haired, green-eyed woman had never seen it at its prime, but knew it had, at one time, been better.
Dark_One Shadowphyre was a mercenary in this War of the Writers. Her uniform, being neither the black-and-teal of the H.U.N.S. or the odd green of the F.A.R.C.e, portrayed in the very clear black, emerald, and midnight blue that her loyalties lay only with herself. The silver badge of a crescent moon and sword was stitched onto the left shoulder of her uniform.
The tough mercenary sighed. She ran a mental check over her weapons; this was going to be one of the hardest jobs she'd ever taken. Not because she wasn't good at killing - she'd done plenty of that in killing off her characters. It wasn't even going to be hard to lie. What was hard was to keep from laughing during the entire mission.
Movement off to her left and the flash of a - lightsaber? - caught her eye. She focused on the scene and saw that the lightsaber was being wielded by a young man with bushy brown hair, a trench coat, and shades. What threw her off was the towel tied around his head. She shrugged. Every author had his - or her - eccentricities. His opponent was Tobiasrulz, wearing an absurd parody of Darth Vader's getup and looked to be hyperventilating. Probably as a result of the mask.
Something happened. The young man - Petros, she recalled - seemed to let down his guard. Tobiasrulz chopped down at his exposed neck with impossible speed, but at the last possible moment, Petros made a pass with his energy blade, effectively diverting her attack and nicking her shoulder. Tobiasrulz faded from the field, stricken with writer's block and Petros flicked off his lightsaber.
Dark_One nodded to herself. It was exactly what she would have done in similar circumstances. She fiddled with her cue ball as she watched him take out a similar cue ball and absorb the lightsaber hilt into it. It didn't really surprise her. She'd long ago decided to use a cue ball instead of the regular eight balls other writers had. While the eight ball was often mistaken or contradicting, and more often than not, totally useless, she'd found the cue ball to be much more reliable.
This Petros was like her in many ways, she noted. That made him somebody to watch. Someone her equal in skill and cunning could not go unchecked. Then she stopped. Equal? What was that D.M.P. had said about twins? She glanced at the envelope she'd swiped from D.M.P.'s tent. The envelope with her name on it. Now, however, she didn't think she'd need to open it. She had a pretty good idea who her twin was.
The green-eyed mercenary concentrated on her own cue ball, summoning a crossbow and quiver of bolts. Each bolt had a colored band just below the fletching. Red was for the False Death bolts, used to kill off characters. They didn't do any permanent damage, and the effects wore off in bare minutes. Green was for the Anti-Fic bolts, used against writers. The arrowheads were made of anti-fic metal. Lastly, blue was for a special kind of bolt that Dark_One herself had created for emergency usage.
Dark_One Shadowphyre slipped her cue ball into the warp hole in her tunic and cast a sideways glance at James Bondsholvatski, the Russian agent of the FanFic Workers' Union. Ordinarily, the sight of him would make any female author swoon, but this self-serving mercenary author was made of sterner stuff than that.
"You know the plan by now. Dark_Moon should run out onto the field with her white flag, then you get into position. I'll radio you when they head for the barn. You fire off the shot, then get yourself out of there while I get in there and delay the search."
"An' 'ow are you go'hing to do dat?" James asked her, curious in spite of himself. This mercenary hadn't once fallen prey to his charms and he was beginning to respect her.
"I'll probably fool them into thinking I'm not as bright as I am so that I'll appear dangerous, but harmless at the same time." She shrugged one shoulder eloquently. "If nothing else, I could always kill a character and blame the whole thing on my writing habits." The Russian agent shook his head at the red-haired merc.
"You are crazy," he announced as he slipped on his ski mask. Dark_One flashed him her usual, confidant smirk as she loaded a bolt into her crossbow, raising the weapon to the ready position.
"Nope," she replied, turning her now-golden eyes back to the semi-distant battlefield. "I'm *insane*, comrade. There's a difference."
James stared at her, feeling a trifle uneasy despite his training. Difference? Well, maybe so.
A flash of white on the battlefield caught his attention. At the same time, Dark_One snapped, "There she is. Go!" James turned and started down the hill.
"Good luck, Jim," the merc added, just before he was out of earshot. He turned and saluted her before racing on to the barn.
"Okay, kiddies," Dark_One Shadowphyre murmured as she watched D.M.P. and Forlay shake hands. "Now the fun begins." She lifted the radio to her lips. "Beige Knight, the target is on the move."
"Ah'm on it, Shadow Knight," James's voice came back. Dark_One Shadowphyre rolled her eyes a bit at the code name. Oh, well. It was better than imitating Darth Vader. Black Knight indeed! Still gripping the radio, the mercenary woman made her way down the hill at her leisure.
The two generals and their seconds in command disappeared into the barn and Dark_One lifted the radio again.
"Beige Knight, can you hear me?" she asked, pitching her voice low so as not to be overheard.
"Very vell," he replied, his voice equally low. There was a pause and she assumed he was positioning his weapon. "Target sighted."
The young female mercenary pulled at the tails of her headband, tightening it around her head. This form's only defect was the way her hair tended to try and escape confines. The headband didn't do much, but it was useful in its own way. If nothing else, it matched the emerald sash.
Half-way to the barn, she heard a commotion. A couple seconds later, she heard James say, "Ah am out of dere. Your turn, Shadow Knight."
"Roger that, Beige Knight," Dark_One replied, then melded the radio back into her cue ball, quickening her pace as she went. She arrived in the middle of a rather heated argument between Forlay and D.M.P. The two generals and their people had drawn weapons on each other and were glaring across the intervening space. Dark_One guessed they each thought the other had sent the sniper. Little did they know...
"People," Jake interrupted, "put down your weapons!" Like that was ever going to happen.
"I won't until she does," Forlay snapped, staring at D.M.P., who responded with, "Ha! Like I would!" Dark_One chose that moment to enter the picture. She snapped her own fingers and 'ported herself right in between the two parties. Okay, it wasn't the brightest move she'd ever made, but that was the whole point.
"Am I late?" she asked, adopting a slight valley girl lilt. Inwardly, she cringed. She hated the air head act.
"Who are you?" Tobiasrulz asked. That startled the mercenary, since she had just seen Petros cut her out of the scene. She suspected Veggie Freak's pet plothole was to blame for this.
"Dark_One Shadowphyre," she replied, inclining her head to one side.
"Which side are you on?" Bob Elder queried. Dark_One gave a purely mental sigh of annoyance. Sides? Good grief, was that all that mattered to these people?
"I'm a mercenary," she responded, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I'll go for the highest offer." Suddenly, and without any warning, she raised her crossbow - which had never left her hand - and fired the False Death bolt at Marco. The bolt struck him in the back and he fell to the ground, to all appearances dead.
"Hey! What'd you do that for?" demanded Rachel. Dark_One paused, as if she was surprised.
"What? Oops!" She dropped her crossbow, loath as she was to let go of it, and ran over to Marco, still playing idiot. "Uh, I didn't mean it. I just have this, uh..." she pretended to flounder. "I mean, he was the one who hired the assassin! I was just doing my job."
"What?" Jake asked blankly. Idiot, Dark_One sneered mentally.
"Okay, okay," she said out loud, sighing. Looked like she was going to have to go ahead with her writing habits explanation. The bolt's effect would wear off shortly, anyway. "I just have this tendency to kill or wound characters for no reason at all. But," she added quickly, "when I do, I feel really guilty and bring them back to life, but fit it into the story so well that nobody can tell the difference."
Marco chose that moment to snap out of the false character death and get up. Dark_One retreated back several steps and picked up her crossbow again as he plucked the bolt out of his back.
"I live!" he cried as the mercenary loaded another False Death bolt into her weapon.
"Why did you hire an assassin?" Cassie asked. Marco looked extremely confused.
"I hired a hit man?" he asked blankly. That was too good an opening. Thwap! The second bolt struck him in the back. Everyone turned to look at the merc woman.
"What?" she asked, shrugging in an air headed kind of way. "He just admitted to it." Something caught her eye and she turned to look. Hm. The guy with the cloaking device was good. She knew who it was. Petros. She knew he was watching her. And she knew that he knew she'd seen him. She nodded at him slightly, one corner turning upward in a smirk that mirrored Petros's own.
The parley broke up with both sides shouting about continuing the war. Well, Dark_One's job was done now. As Marco, snapped out of the False Death, she accepted her bolts back from Rachel surreptitiously and faded back into the shadows, watching Petros out of the corner of her eye.
Dark_One touched the silver moon-and-sword badge on her shoulder that engaged the cloaking device in her uniform. It projected an image of whatever happened to be on the other side of her, no matter what direction. Wonderful technology, but rather disappointing because of the two second time delay. She'd have to get that updated and soon. A time delay like that could be fatal to her if someone took it into their head to follow her.
Which turned out to be exactly what Petros had in mind. Of course, she'd expected that; after all, he was her twin. Well, she wasn't a hire-pen for nothing. One reason she was a merc was her fighting skills. Or, in some cases, sneaking skills. She might as well put them to good use.
She lead him through the forest - well, what was left of it. She knew he'd lost sight of her in the myriad fire-blackened stumps and began to be less careful about concealing her tracks. She stopped at the river gorge and moved a bit to the side to watch.
Sure enough. Barely a few minutes later, Petros broke cover and approached the edge of the gorge, following her trail. She couldn't believe it! He walked right up to the edge, letting her slip in just behind him. As he looked down, she dealt him a hard blow with her palm to the middle of his back, effectively disabling is camouflage and sending him off balance. He whirled - too late.
He windmilled his arms in a futile attempt to regain his balance, then caught her off-guard as he flipped backwards, catching her around the waist and pulling her over the cliff with him. Together they fell into the gorge. As they fell, Petros lurched, putting the mercenary woman below him, then released his hold on her.
She struck the bottom first, landing on a rock with a grunt. Her uniform absorbed most of the shock, but it put her own cloaking out of commission. As she slid into the water, she saw Petros be swept past. She snarled and lunged at him, caution gone. She was not going to let him have the upper hand for long! She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing his head beneath the water as the current carried them away.
With some distant corner of her mind, Dark_One noticed that he was smart enough not to struggle. Suddenly, she felt them be propelled within reach of the shoreline and felt the shallow bottom. She had barely enough time to brace herself before Petros twisted and kicked her hard in the stomach. The force of the kick, coupled with a slight 'kinetic nudge sent her flying up and back, out of the water and onto land. She twisted and landed on her feet just as her twin jerked to his.
Petros drew his weapons, a short sword in his left hand and a kindjal in his right. The mercenary grinned. So, this was to be a two blade fight? She could match that. Dark_One drew out her cue ball from her belt pouch and concentrated, summoning up a one-handed scimitar and a long dagger. She slipped the cue ball back into the pouch and picked up her weapons, the scimitar in her right hand, the dagger in her left.
This ought to be interesting, Dark_One Shadowphyre thought to herself, eyeing her opponent. She didn't attack, merely waited while he sized her up. Both held one single edged weapon and one double edged, so were equally armed. Both of them were breathing hard from fighting the current of the river, and Dark_One was well aware that they were equally matched. She saw him register that fact and smiled slightly.
"So, you begin to see," she said, her voice a light, musical purr like that of a cat to its dinner. "I am your equal in everything." She saw realization dawn on Petros at her words.
"You're my twin!" he exclaimed. Quick one, the mercenary thought cynically. Her cynicism was purely natural reaction, though. Instead, she felt a slight admiration for her twin. He really was her equal. The fact that he was her opponent was even more enjoyable.
"I love to be challenged by an equal," she purred, smirking. Petros's smirk was, as she'd guessed, identical to hers.
"I know," he replied, and leaped at her. His sword rushed downward in an overhead chop, designed to distract her from his upward thrust with his kindjal. Dark_One caught the kindjal on the shearing-guard of her dagger, sweeping her scimitar upward, the dull side of her blade working to turn aside the short sword. Petros jerked his right wrist to free his kindjal and took one step backward, as did Dark_One.
He's very good, Dark_One Shadowphyre thought with respect. They circled each other, watching the other's every move.
"You're very good," Petros commented, echoing Dark_One's earlier thought.
"Thank," the mercenary replied, shifting her grip on her scimitar. Time to take the offensive. "You're not so bad yourself." With that, she lunged forward, her scimitar high at a horizontal angle, dagger thrust forward.
Petros jumped back, seeing the trick, and reached cross-body to catch the scimitar on his kindjal, trying a horizontal cut of his own with his shortsword. Dark_One caught the blade on her dagger and shoved backward, disengaging both their weapons.
"Good trick," she said, her tone appreciative. "I'll have to remember that one." Her twin shrugged modestly, then began an attack series designed to wear her out.
He was blocked, blow for blow. Then, Dark_One ducked her left shoulder and spun toward the opening, her scimitar arching toward his side. Petros blocked it with his kindjal, then saw the dagger flashing around towards his unprotected kidney. He spun to black it with his kindjal, foolishly leaving himself open for her scimitar. He moved his sword to block it - too late.
The curved blade opened a shallow cut across his midsection, just as he nicked her left hand with his kindjal. Both writers backed away, raising their long blades in salute as they faded, stricken down with writers' block.
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Back in front of the computer, Dark_One Shadowphyre smiled to herself. It had been exhilarating to find herself with an opponent of equal skill. True, Petros had stupidly been struck down, but he had taken her down with him.
But now she had writers' block. Ah, well. She'd prepared for just this sort of emergency. She dug into the shelf area above the computer, searching for a specific group of papers... Ah! There they were.
Pulling out the sheaf of white, lined, notebook paper, Dark_One flipped through them, reading the words she herself had written with a No. 2 pencil. Story ideas and sample scenes. Opening a file, she began working on her newest work, "The Shaper Chronicles."
Slowly, with an almost reluctance, the writers' block began to wear off. Still, she typed on until, at last, she burst out of the confines of the notes and began to write new words to fill in.
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Dark_One Shadowphyre sat up, rubbing her neck and wincing. She had a bad back and her fight with her twin hadn't helped. She knew exactly where she was, of course - back at the river. Oh, well. Thank god for the 'porting and 'kinetic ability she'd written into her character.
She stood up, brushing her uniform off. She knew exactly where she was headed and it wouldn't do to show up in Forlay's camp with a dirty uniform. Tightening her hair scarf around her head and shoving her hair back out of her face, she touched one finger to the center of her forehead.
The scene blurred, then solidified into the area just outside of Forlay's camp. And just in time.
"'Ello, y'all!" General Forlay called to Bob, Aniblaire and Steve-0, skipping towards them. "Wat's up on dem battlefr'nt?"
Dark_One stared at the general. The formerly cool and reserved leader of the force that opposed D.M.P. was dressed in patched overalls, a worn checkered shirt with short, puffed sleeves, and pigtails. And she was chewing a big wad of bubblegum. She cocked her head to one side, making her pigtails swing.
"Whatcha y'all lookin' at?" she asked. Dark_One's hand was hovering near her quiver, uncertainly. Then she heard Bob groan.
"Oy..." he said despairingly. "We're doomed." That decided the merc. After all, her contract hadn't said anything about this; that meant it was her call.
"No, you aren't," she said, her hand dropping to the quiver. Forlay's forces whirled around as she stepped up next to them. Her fingers closed on two bolts. Not bothering to check, she yanked both of them out. One was a False Death bolt, which she had no intention of using. The other was the blue banded bolt. Her special bolt.
The Anti-Townie bolt.
As she loaded the Anti-Townie bolt into her cross bow, the False Death bolt fell from her fingers. She aimed the crossbow at Forlay and fired. At the same time, a curse was heard from Aniblaire. Two fan fic authors fell to the ground, one with an Anti-Townie bolt in her shoulder, the other having been struck by the fallen False Death bolt.
"My contract never said anything about this situation," Dark_One said into the silence that followed.
"But...but... You've killed them!" Bob Elder cried. "Aniblaire and Forlay--"
"Aren't they s'posed to die in each others arms?" Steve-0 asked, looking from Bob to the merc woman and back again.
"I heard that..." came a strained voice from Forlay's position. The author in question was slowly sitting up, rubbing her head. "What happened? What am I doing in these god-awful clothes? And," she added, staring at her shoulder, "why is there a crossbow bolt stuck in me?"
"Ohh..." came from Aniblaire as he, too, sat up. "I have got one killer of a headache...."
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By the time everything had gotten sorted out, Bob had run off to deal with the spammers, peace was declared between the parties, and D.M.P. had taken credit for undoing the Townie Spell. Dark_One Shadowphyre was not about to dispute her.
There was some tension when she'd had to get her bolts back from Forlay and Aniblaire. Forlay had grudgingly admitted that the mercenary wasn't to blame, but Blaire was still a bit hostile, even though Dark_One had told him, repeatedly, that the bolt had slipped and had not been aimed at him.
Everyone was at Cassie's barn for the celebration of the end of the war. Humorists were talking with serious writers, romance writers exchanged sites with hentai writers, and even the H.U.N.S. were persuaded to loosen up. A bunch of Ewoks were dancing around a bonfire, chanting something in their obscure language; Plotty was suspect there. Dark_One sat off to the side, a glass of something in one hand; she didn't particularly know what it was and had no interest in finding out.
"Hi there," a voice said to her left. Dark_One looked up, her eyes shifting to gold to peer through the gloom.
"Marco," she said, setting down her glass. "One of these days you're going to get skewered sneaking up on me." She touched the cue ball in her belt pouch and summoned the extra bottle of D.M.P.'s prescription. She handed it to Marco, who bowed to her mockingly and headed over to the refreshment table. The merc picked up her glass again, wondering if she dared taste it.
"Hey, Darkie," said a voice near her elbow. Dark_One smirked a little. There was only one person in all the world that dared to call her "Darkie".
"Pull up a hay bale, Meri," she replied, turning to look at the speaker. Meridian Animorph grinned at her long-time friend and sat on the bale next to her.
"Whatcha doing here, Darkie?" Meridian queried, taking a sip from her own glass. The merc woman shifted a bit.
"Sitting here, trying to decide which fic to work on now that the war's over, and contemplating the identity of my twin," Dark_One replied, turning her eyes to survey the milling crowd. Meri whistled.
"Deep," she murmured. "Well, for starters, you can get back to Eternal Animorphs 2. I've gotten quite a few emails asking for it." Dark_One snorted.
"Yeah, I've gotten a few of those," she responded. "Relax, I'm over halfway through it. It should be done by New Year's." Meridian nodded, molified. They were silent for a bit.
"So," Meri said at last. "Who's your twin?"
"Petros," Dark_One Shadowphyre replied. "Fairly good-looking guy. Very good fighter."
"First hand experience, Darkie?"
"Yep. So who's your twin?"
"Some character I've never heard of," Meridian sighed. "I don't even know if she writes. Goes by the name Andagorilla."
Dark_One had chosen that very moment to taste her drink and choked on the liquid. She coughed and laughed and half-swore while Meri pounded on her back. When the coughing spasms ended, Dark_One was laughing and Meridian was staring at her oddly.
"What's so funny?" she asked suspiciously while Dark_One let her laughter subside to chuckles.
"Andagorilla definately writes, Meri," Dark_One chuckled. "We've been best friends IRL for years, and she was working on some series or another with a few other writers. I think they called it "Insane Animorphs" but..." She trailed off, eyes turning green and distant with thought.
"Weird," Meridian commented. "Why does it seem like this whole peace thing is going to blow up in everybody's faces?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly.
"Maybe because it will?" Dark_One shrugged. "I don't know. But," she added as she saw D.M.P. faint, "I don't think D.M.P. will be in action for a while."
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* Part Two *
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Looks like I was wrong, Dark_One Shadowphyre thought to herself as she stared at the holo of D.M.P.'s head that rested in front of her.
"Look, I don't have all day to waste here, so just say what you want, 'kay?" Dark_One scowled at the head, at the same time tending to her wounded shoulder. She'd had a run-in with Aniblaire and he'd left her slashed up pretty bad. With real metal, not Anti-Fic metal.
What she couldn't understand was why Aniblaire had done that. Sure, things had been tense ever since the False Death bolt had struck him, and the fact that she was a mercenary didn't help much, but why try to kill her? And really kill her, not just give her writers' block.
Well, as a result, until she got the cuts Healed completely, she would have several deep scars and a shallow one from the corner of her left eye to her chin from where he'd struck her. Not to mention her second best uniform was in tatters. For that alone, she wanted his hide.
"What I want?" the head mocked, and Dark_One narrowed her eyes; that didn't sound quite like D.M.P., even at her most insane. "Why, I want to hire you, of course."
"To do what?" the merc asked, her eyes changing to gold. She folded her arms across her chest. That action hurt like hell, but it looked impressive, so she ignored the discomfort.
"To take out Forlay," came the response. Dark_One thought fast. She didn't want to get maneuvered into a position that wouldn't allow for free movement on her part. She lifted an eyebrow.
"Explain," she said, making it sound more like an order than a request for information. D.M.P. smirked at her.
"We want to win this war. The only thing stopping us is Forlay's forces. Take out Forlay, and you have mass confusion until they finally decide who's going to take over. We can use that time to attack and wipe them out. All we need from you is to elliminate Forlay." The leader of F.A.R.C.e gave her a condescending smirk. "I'm sure one of those fancy crossbow bolts of yours will do the job nicely."
Dark_One fought hard to keep a mask of unobservance on her face. She hadn't missed the tone, or the implications. Still, she tried another tactic.
"Under the circumstances, in Forlay's absense, Aniblaire would-"
"Aniblaire is dead!" D.M.P. shouted, her voice twisting in rage. Dark_One raised one eyebrow and the other girl visibly got control over herself. "Aniblaire switched sides, mercenary. He's under my command now, and calls himself Ryan."
"So what's your price?" Dark_One asked, keeping her voice light, at the same time thinking very fast. Aniblaire switched sides? And something was odd about D.M.P....
The other named a figure that made Dark_One's eyes pop and the little cash register in her head go off big time.
"That much? Damn, you must want Forlay bad," the merc exclaimed, pushing her red hair back over her shoulder. "Are you sure this is within your budget?" D.M.P. shrugged.
"It'll be worth it to win the war," she said nonchalantly. For some reason, this activated all the warning signals in Dark_One's brain.
'I don't believe in this for an instant,' she thought, fighting the urge to frown. 'But still, that's an awful lot of dough. She must really want Forlay out of the scene.'
'No, I couldn't,' she thought. 'This is just too convenient. And D.M.P.'s acting awfully suspect.'
'Still, that price...'
'Damnit, the Mercenary Code doesn't say anything about this!' she thought angrily.
'Well, of course not,' she thought back. 'The Code is all about ethics, not morals and honor.'
While Dark_One argued with herself, D.M.P. was beginning to look impatient. The 'dumb merc' was taking too long to accept the high-paying job. Dark_One sighed inwardly.
'I shouldn't,' she thought. 'Once I agree, there's no backing out. But...' "You've got yourself a merc," she said finally, but added, "Payment in advance." D.M.P. scowled briefly, then smoothed over.
"Fine," she snapped. The merc woman sensed the pay rise in her account and automatically locked it into receive, not withdraw. D.M.P. raised an eyebrow.
"What's the matter?" she asked in a tone that made Dark_One's teeth hurt. "Doesn't the little mercenary trust her employer?" The 'little mercenary,' who was actually taller physically than said employer, snorted.
"I don't trust anyone," she said shortly. "Especially my employer." D.M.P. laughed and cut the connection. The image swirled and vanished, leaving a suspicious and rather bemused mercenary to stare at the projector.
<\> * <\>
"Well?" Rb asked as D.M.P. shut off the connection. D.M.P. snorted.
"That mercenary is too dumb to suspect," she said flatly. "Name a big enough figure and she'll flock to you like a bee to nectar."
"She took an awfully long time to accept," Rb pointed out. "What if we're underestimating her?"
"Nonsense," D.M.P. said, waving her hand. She grinned suddenly, her face twisting into something entirely different from the usual D.M.P. grin; Rb shuddered. "Besides," the commander went on, "she wouldn't ever suspect the truth."
"You shouldn't have gone after her like that," Rb said softly. "What if the injuries slow her down?"
"I fought against her, remember?" the person in front of Rb reminded. "She didn't falter, even when she should have been barely conscious. I was lucky enough to knock her out." There was a glint in that person's eyes that chilled even Rb. "She won't fail us."
<\> * <\>
Dark_One Shadowphyre sat back in her chair in her room, staring at her laptop screen. She'd had plenty of time to get a look at some of the other accounts of the war, and what she'd found hadn't reassured her any. It made too much sense to her, this convenient hire. But she couldn't prove anything. And she'd already taken the job. The Code forbid her to back out, even if her warning signals were screaming at her.
She sighed. Being a mercenary was a tough job. Being a mercenary with a sense of honor was even harder. Most jobs didn't allow for honor to enter in. She wondered briefly why she'd decided to be a merc anyway.
Ah well. The Code forbid her to back out, her sense of honor forbid her to back out, and her suspicious nature forbid her to take the job in the first place. Having been overruled, it now forbid her to let down her guard for even an instant. She happened to agree with that part very much.
With a sigh, she signed back into FanFiction.Net, bracing herself for what she might find upon her return...
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Dark_One Shadowphyre glanced around her. She was right back where she'd started, the com center in front of her. The message light was blinking.
"Just like back home," she muttered as she reached forward and flipped the switch, playing the message. An image of Bob Elder sprang up.
"Dark_One Shadowphyre? Bob Elder here. Listen, I want to talk to you about a job. Give me a buzz when you get in." The image dissapeared and Dark_One sighed. This was getting complicated. She flipped the com on and keyed in Bob's code. His machine picked up.
"Hey, we're in the middle of a war, here! What are you doing calling me? Leave a message at the tone. *Beep*!"
"Bob, it's Dark_One. Message received. What's this job you've got for me? And how much are you offering?" Bob's face came into view.
"Hey, Dark_One. You interested in the job?" he queried. The mercenary sighed and pushed her hair out of her face, silently wishing for her headscarf.
"Yeah," she replied. "Charming answering machine ya got," she added. Bob shrugged modestly. "So what's the job?"
"We want to hire you to take out D.M.P.," he said calmly. Dark_One sat bolt upright.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute heah!" she exclaimed, falling into her New Yorker accent. "Sorry. No can do. I'm already hired by D.M.P."
"You haven't heard our price yet," Bob said, and named a figure much higher than what D.M.P. was paying. Dark_One hesitated in spite of herself, supremely tempted. Then she berated herself for even thinking of it. The Code was very strict about something like this.
"No," she said flatly. "While I admit the offer is tempting, I can't accept it. The Code is very strict about such things." Bob looked totally non-plussed.
"Code?" he repeated blankly. Dark_One sighed. She hadn't expected a non-merc to know about the Code.
"Never mind," she said, waving the question aside. "It's a very tempting offer, but by the Code I can't accept it."
"Consider it at least," Bob pleaded. Dark_One shook her head in a negative. He sighed. "If you change your mind, let us know," he said and cut the connection, leaving the merc to stare, green-eyed, at the place his image had been bare seconds ago.
<\> * <\>
"So, will she take the job, do you think?" Steve-0 asked as Bob cut the connection. Bob shook his head.
"No. She said something about a Code forbiding her to accept it," he said, frowning slightly. "It's funny. It's almost like she was opperating under honor." Steve-0 snorted.
"A merc with honor? Right. Tell me another one," he said cynically. Bob pointed at the blank screen.
"You heard her yourself," he said, then quoted, "'It's a very tempting offer, but by the Code I can't accept it.'"
"What is this 'Code' anyway?" Steve-0 asked. Bob shrugged.
"Beats me. I asked her, but she wouldn't tell me." He scowled a bit, staring at the screen. "I'll tell you this, though. There's something more going on here."
<\> * <\>
'There's something more going on here,' Dark_One Shadowphyre thought as she sharpened her dagger. The dagger didn't need to be sharpened, but it gave her something to do while she thought besides pace.
First, she had received a rather suspicious offer from D.M.P. asking her to take out Forlay. Despite her own misgivings, she'd accepted the job, binding her by the Code. Then, she'd received an even better offer from Bob, asking her to take out D.M.P. who, by Dark_One's acceptance of her job, was also under her protection.
"'Do nothing to harm your employer,'" she quoted softly. "Even if you don't trust them any farther than you can throw them."
There was also the factor that this could be a trap. The merc had it on good authority that she was being blamed right along with Aniblaire for trying to assassinate the peace talks at the warehouse. With that kind of outlook, an offer from Forlay's forces was highly suspect.
Then there was D.M.P. She was supposed to be safely tucked away in a padded room at the National Institute of Mental Health under the guard of Mr. Therapist. Granted they'd been having problems with rats recently, but that was in their story line, so Dark_One hadn't given it much thought.
She'd put in a call to her twin, Petros, once he'd recovered from writers' block. If he had any information regarding recent developments, would he please get in touch with her as quickly as possible? He'd called back with the information that D.M.P. had supposedly just escaped from N.I.M.H and Mr. Therapist was sure she had been there at the time Dark_One had received that call. That only worried her all the more.
Praying fervently, she set down her dagger and put in a call to Bob Elder, then to D.M.P. She hoped to high heaven that the Code would allow what she had planned, and that she was doing the right thing.
<\> * <\>
"Hey, Bob! There's a message from that mercenary!" Bob Elder came into the room, followed by Steve-0. He listened to the message.
"While I am unable to act directly against D.M.P., there is an alternative. If you and Forlay show up at these coordinants, we just might be able to work something out." The coordinants she'd supplied were for a field near the burnt-out forest.
"So," Steve-0 commented at last. "Are you going?"
<\> * <\>
"Ryan..." D.M.P. began. "Why is there a message from Dark_One Shadowphyre?" Ryan, formerly known as Aniblaire, leaned over D.M.P.'s shoulder and listened to the message.
"So, if you want to see the completion of your job, just come to these coordinants. If you don't show up, well, it's your loss." Ryan smirked.
"Don't you remember?" he asked sweetly. "You hired that merc to take out Forlay for you. She obviously thought you'd want to witness her downfall yourself." D.M.P. stared at the image of the red-haired mercenary and slowly began to smile.
<\> * <\>
"Are you sure you want to do this," Petros asked his twin. He already knew the answer, though.
"No," Dark_One Shadowphyre replied, her fingers brushing the two black-banded bolts in her quiver. She flashed him a quick grin. "But it's too late to back out now."
"Just...be careful, okay?" he said, then activated his camoflauge, disappearing from normal view. Dark_One saw Forlay and Bob Elder approaching from one direction. Turning her head, she saw D.M.P. and Rb saunter up from the other direction, Ryan lurking like a shadow in their wake. Bob and Forlay saw the three of them and bristled.
"What's going on here?" Forlay demanded. D.M.P. smirked, but it was Dark_One that spoke.
"A simple matter of a job," she said mildly. "See, D.M.P. here hired me a while back. Then Bob approached me with a higher offer, asking me to take out D.M.P."
Quickly, D.M.P. jumped in with a higher price for her to work for them. Forlay countered with an even higher price. Sweating a little, D.M.P. frantically called out an even larger figure which Forlay rebounded with a still higher amount.
"ENOUGH!" Dark_One thundered, and both parties fell silent. Dark-One loaded a black-banded bolt into her crossbow. "I agreed to take D.M.P.'s job, thus while under that contract, I'm obligated to protect her. 'Do nothing to harm your employer.' However," and she aimed and fired at Forlay. The bolt struck her target full in the chest and Forlay went down. Dark_One loaded the second black bolt and took aim.
"Contract fulfilled and terminated," she said, and fired. The bolt struck D.M.P. squarely. Then, a curious thing happened. D.M.P. began to dissolve.
"I'm melting! I'm melting! Oh, what a world!" Delusional Manic-Depressive Psycopath cried as the dissappeared, the bolt falling through her to the ground. Dark_One watched impassively, then pulled out her dagger.
"Case closed," she said, then stabbed herself. As she sank to the ground, both the fallen bolt and the bolt that had struck down Forlay shimmered, revealing a red band on the bolt in Forlay and a green band on the fallen bolt. Dark_One had out-witted them all.
The garnet in the mercenary's dagger flashed once and Dark_One lay still, to all appearances dead. Complete her jobs, then...
"Suicide," Rb breathed, staring at the fallen merc in horror. Ryan was smirking. Bob looked stunned.
Then, Petros disengaged his camoflauge, coming forward. His face registered surprise, shock, and grief. He bent and lifted his twin's limp body, then turned without a word and walked off, carrying his sister. No one tried to stop him, or even follow. Within seconds, he was out of sight.
<\> * <\>
* Part Three *
<\> * <\>
"Was it absolutely necessary to fake suicide?" Petros asked his twin as he watched her clean her dagger. Despite it being a False Death dagger, her blood on it was very real.
"Of course not," Dark_One Shadowphyre replied, working at a particularly stubborn spot on the blade. She frowned at it, then nudged it with her fingernail. Startled, the spot hopped away. "I figured it might just keep them off my back for a bit while I think," she added.
"But how did you know for sure that the dagger wouldn't really kill you?" he pressed. The merc shrugged.
"I didn't," she said simply.
Petros stared at his twin. She was very much like him, true, but there was a twist to her that Petros had yet to figure out. Not many people had the guts to kill themselves.
"In any case," she added after a moment, "I had my cue ball working to keep me from loosing too much blood. But damned if that stunt didn't ruin my *third* best uniform!"
In point of fact, Dark_One was now wearing a variation on her usual uniform. Black, semi-full sleeved shirt, midnight blue tunic and pants tucked into black, knee high boots - cuffs turned down - and black leather gloves and wrist guards. She'd exchanged the emerald green headscarf and sash for ones of black. Underneath the sash, she kept her belt pouch that held the afore-mentioned cue ball. The combination made her look sober and dangerous.
The green-eyed mercenary set down her dagger and stared at a point in the air, not seeing anything, not even trying to see something. She stayed that way for a while, absolutely motionless. Petros wasn't even sure she was breathing, in fact was pretty sure she wasn't. Then she shook herself, and refocused on the room.
"I've got to go scout around for a bit," she said as she rolled to her feet, picking up her dagger in the same motion. She slid the dagger into her belt pouch, absorbing it into the cue ball. Without looking back, she turned and walked out the door into the gloom.
<\> * <\>
It was dark out as Dark_One Shadowphyre crept along through the shadows. So much the better, to her way of thinking. If she couldn't see anyting with her regular eyes, then neither could most of Forlay's forces. Briefly, she wondered why she was lurking around the camp, but pushed the thought aside as unproductive.
A noise to her right froze the mercenary in her tracks. She shifted her eyes gold, her breathing coming soft and shallow. The writer - Dark_One identified her as L'Angel - continued on her way towards Forlay's tent. Curious in spite of herself, Dark_One followed at a distance, moving silently up to the side of the tent just as L'Angel left and headed out of the camp.
"I don't understand it, General." That was Bob Elder. "What's with this fanatical search for the mercenary? I saw her kill herself."
"I don't trust it, Bob," Forlay replied. "Something about this just doesn't make sense and I'm not going to believe she's dead until I see the body myself."
"Why don't you ask Andagorilla? I heard that she and this Shadowphyre person were friends IRL. If she's dead here, that means she's dead there and Andagorilla would know about it."
"I have asked her. She hasn't heard from Dark_One in a little over a week."
"Well, there you have it."
"Not so. If she were dead, then Andagorilla most certainly would have heard from Dark_One's mother. Those two were close."
"What about that girl Meridian? The one that formed her own squad?" Mercenary Company, you idiot, Dark_One thought.
"Her? She hasn't heard a thing. Granted they only know each other through the net, but she's as lost as Andagorilla."
"So, what are you going to do besides watch her funds?" Bob asked finally. Forlay sighed.
"You said Petros took her body?" There was a pause. "Well then, we'll just have to find Petros." No one noticed as the mercenary woman slipped away into the night.
<\> * <\>
L'Angel crouched outside near the command tent of D.M.P.'s forces. Inside, she could hear Rb arguing with Aniblaire. The despicable turncoat, she seethed as she listened.
"What do you mean, Forlay's searching for Dark_One Shadowphyre?!" Blaire roared. "And why hasn't our side found her first?"
"None of us are even sure she's alive, Ryan," Rb replied coolly. "Really, this fanatical hunt for her is just a little rediculous, even for our side."
"She's alive," Blaire - no, Ryan - hissed. "She's most definately alive. And we have to find her before they do."
"Why? Why should we care if those humor-impaired writers get a hold of the dumb merc?" Rb wanted to know. Was it just L'Angel's imagination, or did she hear a nearby his of anger?
"Because that 'dumb merc' isn't as dumb as we originally thought," Ryan replied coldly. "She's a lot smarter than we gave her credit for. We underestimated her and she managed not only to fool us into thinking she'd taken out Forlay, but also shot down D.M.P. at the same place!"
"Well, of course she'd shoot down D.M.P. You heard it yourself that she'd gotten a better offer from Bob Elder."
"True," Ryan mused. "But why didn't she just take out D.M.P.? Why go to the trouble of the ruse?" Silence. "It's like she has... ethics. Or even honor."
"A merc with honor?" Rb snorted. "That'll be the day!" There was a very soft sound near L'Angel and she turned.
Right there, crouched next to the tent, was a young woman dressed in black and midnight blue. Her long, curly red hair was held back by a black headscarf tied on the side of her head. Her eyes flashed gold in the low light, her face contorted in an expression of pure rage.
Up until that moment, L'Angel hadn't believed that Dark_One Shadowphyre was alive. But seeing this woman, a woman that fit all the descriptions L'Angel had ever heard of her (sans emerald headscarf and belt), the writer could only believe.
L'Angel stared dumbfounded at the writer. She'd been sent out on a reconnascainse mission to find Dark_One's whereabouts and the mercenary in question shows up right in front of her, spying on D.M.P.'s forces no less! There was only one question in L'Angel's mind now:
What do I do?
<\> * <\>
Dark_One Shadowphyre listened to Ryan and Rb with mounting rage. 'Dumb merc', huh? Not possible for a merc to have honor, was it? She ground her teeth together to keep from snarling.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Dark_One was thrown to the side by a powerful blow to her head. It wasn't enough to knock her out, but it put her off-balance. As she struggled to her feet, she felt the sharp strike of something hitting her leg. She twisted a bit and got a look at it. A tranq dart.
"Dark_One Shadowphyre?" she heard as her vision blurred. "You're under arrest for the attempted assassination of General Forlay."
The mercenary's last conscious thought came in the form of a very potent curse that was, techniqually, anatomically impossible. Then, the scene before her eyes went black and she passed out.
<\> * <\>
'Why'd I have to get caught by Forlay's troops?' Dark_One Shadowphyre asked herself, feeling extremely depressed. 'Why?'
Suddenly, she heard a sort of chiming noise. She recognized it as the flashback music she'd hired, never really planning to use it. She didn't particularly want to use it now, but figured it was just as good a place as any, so let the flashback go ahead.
She'd come to in a fairly dry cell, facing a stone block wall. Once she was awake enough, she'd checked her belt pouch. She hadn't really been surprised to find her cue ball was gone, as well as the Fan Fic Expulsion pills left over from the FFWU assignment.
She'd then learned that she was in a holding cell in Forlay's camp. She'd been charged with espionage - much to her amusement - and attempted assassination, which wasn't strictly true, but she was still under enough tranqs to blur anyone's mind, so she couldn't argue it. At least, not vocally.
Instead, she just sat back, waiting for Forlay's people to decide whether or not to have her executed.
The flashback ended rather abruptly, and Dark_One found herself once again standing near the door to her cell, watching the hallway. She wasn't expecting anyone to come by, but it was better than staring out the window at a freedom she couldn't reach.
" 'Allo, Darkie," said a very familiar voice. "Heard you were here." Dark_One whipped her head around to stare through the window bars, dumbfounded, at the only person that ever *dared* to call her "Darkie."
"*Meridian*?!" she gasped. Meridian Animorph shrugged.
"Yep," she said. "Meridian. Alive and in the flesh." Dark_One gaped at her friend. A thousand questions were racing through her mind, but the drugs they were keeping her on kept those questions behind her lips.
"What're you doing here?" she managed to get out.
"Well, I lead a squad under Forlay," D.M.P.'s former mule driver said. "And since it required all the higher ranking officers to report, I came to your trial."
The drugs were making it hard for Dark_One to concentrate, but two bits of information penetrated the fog. Apparently, Meridian's Company was now working for Forlay. The other....
"I'm getting a trial?" she choked out. That was slightly more than she'd expected, given the - ahem - "staggering evidence" against her. Meridian smirked slightly.
"Yeppers. Anyway, I just came by to say 'allo." She glanced at her watch. "And now I've got to run before Forlay notices I'm missing." She waved and skipped away, leaving Dark_One in her drug-induced haze with quite a bit of information to chew on.
<\> * <\>
Forlay stood on her chair behind the podium, towering over Dark_One Shadowphyre. The mercenary sneered inwardly. The general probably thought it made her look more imposing. It just made her look silly.
"And what have you to say in defense for your actions?" Forlay boomed. Dark_One looked down to hide her half-drugged scowl. They were keeping her severely tranqed now and she could barely keep a coherent thought. What did she have to say for her actions? Her actions weren't the problem, it was Forlay's interpretation of her actions that had started this mess.
"Nothing," she said, her voice sounding slightly muzzy. Was it the drugs, or did Forlay look a little pleased?
"Do you have a defense prepared?" Forlay asked, knowing full well that the mercenary didn't.
"Er, did I need one?" Dark_One asked, fighting to keep from loosing total control of herself. The drugs were doing weird things to her. Why couldn't they just kill her and get it over with? Forlay scowled down at her, perhaps out of contempt.
"Well then, I sentence you to-"
"HEY! Wait up!" Every head swiveled toward Meridian, who stood up. "I'm her defense." Forlay blinked. This hadn't been in her plan. She shot a quick glance at Dark_One, who was still under very heavy sedation.
"Do you have a law degree?" Forlay questioned, hoping to discount Meridian as a proper defense.
"Well...no," she began, then hurried on. "But I've got a legal eagle license from Jessica DragonTamer that officially appoints me as a legal eagle." Forlay turned back to Dark_One.
"Do you accept this girl as your defense?" she asked. Dark_One's eyes flashed gold from surprise, the muzziness beginning to clear.
"I...suppose so...." she said, her words still a little slurred. She made a fuzzy mental note never to allow anyone to feed tranquilizers into her system again. Meridian grinned, her eyes flashing silver in response as she pulled out a stack of papers.
"Great! Well, according to Rule Book 835, Section 253A, Paragraph 53, Line 12, sub line 4, if an author has been accused of assassinhood, as long as it was committed under duress and it can be proved that she is *not* a V.I.W., and also is not an...."
It went on like that for some time. At one point, Meridian asked Dark_One to explain the Mercenary Code. Then Petros appeared, explaining Dark_One's plan as she had explained it to him. Somehow, despite valiant attempts to stay conscious - it was her life in question here! - Dark_One nodded off.
<\> * <\>
Two hours later, Dark_One was jerked awake by Forlay standing, cutting off the seemingly endless debate. She was happy to note that most of the tranqs had worn off as she slept, so she was now mostly lucid, though still not quite in control.
"Okay, Meridian," Forlay grumbled. "You've made your point. Dark_One Shadowphyre doesn't have to be executed." She didn't sound too happy about it to Dark_One's ears. "The only problem is what we do with her." Meridian grinned in a slightly maniacal way, making Dark_One wonder what her friend had in mind.
"That's easy," the leader of the Prozac Unit replied. "I'll make her my co-second in command."
"WHAT?!" Everyone in the room whipped around to stare at Meridian, *again*. With part of her mind, Dark_One thought this was getting a little monotonous. Meridian grinned again.
"Look, the Prozac Unit *is* supposed to be a unit of torturers, assassins, ect., right?" she pointed out. "Well, she can be one of my seconds in command. I'll take care of Darkie."
Dark_One stared at her friend, wondering if the drugs were still affecting her mental capabilities. Had she just heard what she thought she'd heard? Well, the Prozac Unit *was* for the depressive writers, i.e. torturers, assassins, homicidal maniacs... being a mercenary sound right up that alley. Forlay turned to her captive.
"Do you want to be appointed to Meridian's unit?" she asked skeptically. Well, if this wasn't reality, there was no harm in agreeing, was there? Dark_One nodded, still a bit dazed from the tranqs.
"I guess..." she replied fuzzily.
"Very well then." Forlay banged the gavel down, still glaring at Dark_One. "This court is adjourned!"
<\> * <\>
Dark_One Shadowphyre picked up her cue ball and slipped it into her belt pouch. They hadn't dosed her with any more tranqs, but she was still under heavy guard. Much to Meridian's amusement - and Forlay's annoyance - Dark_One had insisted on taking her own uniforms, obstinantly refusing to wear the uniform of Forlay's troops, though she privately conceded to exchanging the emerald cloth for teal, or at the very least don the teal armband.
TRIXTER greeted her new co-commander with wary relief - wary because of Dark_One's reputation, relief because, well, do you know what it's like to lead a squad of depressive writers? They were called the Prozac Unit for a reason.
Granted that reason was, as quoted from Meridian, half the members took Prozac, the other half needed to take it, and the leader had been told repeatedly that she needed to take it. That had made itself evident when Dark_One had been introduced to RenegadeLegacy and heard Kyla's rantings about blood and death. Strangely enough, it made her feel right at home.
Not long after she'd gotten settled in, Dark_One received a message from the FFWU inquiring if she was available to take a job.
"What's the job?" the mercenary asked, having debated with Meridian about continuing her mercenary trade, so long as the job didn't envolve her turning traitor on her own forces. "Besides," she'd pointed out, "the Code would forbid it."
"We want you to help us take Forlay," Mr. Therapist said. "D.M.P. is beyond our reach at this time, but Forlay is quite withing yours. We-"
"No," Dark_One interrupted, enjoying the look of surprise and annoyance on Mr. Therapist's face.
"No?" he repeated as she folded her arms. "'No' what?"
"I won't take the job," she said. Mr. Therapist named a figure. Dark_One shook her head. Desperately, Mr. Therapist offered an even higher amount.
"I don't think you understand," the mercenary said coolly. "It's not the price I object to, it's the job. I techniqually work for Forlay, remember."
"Of course I remember!" Mr. Therapist snapped. "It's why we contacted you. You can get in close and pick her off-"
"No," Dark_One repeated firmly. "The Code forbids such a thing. 'Do nothing to harm your employer.' While my employer is techniqually Meridian, she is under Forlay's command and thusly, so am I."
"But...but you..." Mr. Therapist stuttered. Dark_One smirked and pushed a lock of red hari away from her eyes.
"Besides," she added mildly, "even if the Code wasn't binding me, I gave my word to Meridian that I would not act against those commanding me."
"So break it!" Mr. Therapist roared, his patience snapping. "What's the word of a mercenary worth, anyway?!"
"It's worth a life," Dark_One snapped back. "Mine. By breaking my word under the Code, I forefeit my life." She took a deep breath, then added. "Meridian is my friend, Mr. Therapist. I can't break my word to a friend. My honor would forbid it, even if the Code didn't." Mr. Therapist gaped at her.
"Honor?" he choked out. "You, a mercenary, a hired murderer, a cold-blooded killer, dare to talk about *honor*?!" Dark_One looked pained.
"It may have escaped your notice, *sir*," she said, stressing the title with a sarcastic twist, "but I do not enjoy killing in its own sense. Killing off a character in a story is one matter; I can always bring them back to life at a later date. But killing another person?" She shook her head. Mr. Therapist stared at her, speechless.
"Explain that a bit, would you, Darkie?" Meridian asked from behind her. Without turning, Dark_One continued.
"Each life on this planet - and other planets - is sacred, comrade. No two are the same, and each one is part of this delicate balance we call life. If you take one life away, just one spark snuffed out of exhistance, *you can't bring it back*. If something that prescious is worth so little that someone is willing to destroy it without thought, then I probably wouldn't care. But it is worth something.
"That life is unique, sir. Once it's gone, it can't just be replaced like a CD or a stuffed toy." Dark_One closed her eyes for a moment, searching for the right words. Finally, she opened them. "I can only quote something one of my characters said at the end of a battle. Many more of her enemies fell that her friends, and yet she grieved over each as if they had been siblings.
"Her shieldbrother pointed out that those dead would have gladly stabbed her in the back. She replied that those same dead had families and friends that would mourn their passing. If they had none, then she would mourn in the absence of those friends.
"Her shieldbrother told her she was crazy, but she only shook her head sadly. Do you know what she said?" Dark_One waited, but no one spoke. After a moment, she continued, "'A life has been destroyed this day,' she said. 'Does it matter whose?'"
Dark_One Shadowphyre sat back in the silence. Mr. Therapist stared at her with an expression of honest bewilderment. Meridian said nothing,a silent prescense behind her friend. Finally, Dark_One broke the silence.
"Find someone else to do your job," she advised, "because I won't take it. Not as long as Forlay commands my blade." Before Mr. Therapist could say anything, Dark_One reached out and cut the connection.
"Nice speech, Darkie," Meridian said finally, coming to stand beside her friend. Dark_One shrugged.
"I think I outdid myself on that one," she admitted. "I hate making speeches." She stood and stretched, not surprised to hear the cracking of her bones as she did. 'I'm getting old,' she thought with weary amusement. "Well, let's go tell Forlay that FFWU is planning to send a sniper after her," she said.
"Why?" Meridian asked, a little confused. Then her expression cleared. "Playing by the spirit as well as the letter, Darkie?" she asked mischieviously. Dark_One grinned.
"Of course, Meri. I can't afford to have Forlay killed; she's paying our salary! And besides," she added, her eyes dancing with laughter. "It's only honorable."
"A merc with honor," Meridian chuckled as the two headed out of the tent and towards Forlay's camp. "What a novel idea."
"It's about time someone came up with it," Dark_One replied, then grinned suddenly. "Just don't tell anyone; my reputation would be ruined!" Both of them laughed at that and walked off into-
"Hey!" Meridian said suddenly. "What's with the sunset? It's only just past noon!" Dark_One shrugged.
"It's the end of the fic," she said. "You know. The whole hero walking off into the sunset deal?"
"Isn't that a little cliched for you, Darkie?" Meridian asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. Dark_One shrugged.
"I thought is was a nice touch." Meridian shrugged and the two of them headed off to Forlay's camp (okay, I'll say it...) walking into the sunset.
<\> * <\>
*** End ***
<\> * <\>
(A/N: Okay, that's the end, people. You can all go back to your regular, everyday lives. Nothing more to see. Nope. Not a thing. ~sweatdrops~ Why are you staring at me?! It's over! Leave! Go! Go home! ARGH!!)