Disclaimer: Any characters implied in this story are not mine.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm still alive, and kicking. I know that I am, once again, pitifully late on my updates of Collision and those readers are probably muttering obscenities under their breath and saying, "Friday, she said Friday. Well, it's Friday..."
My answer? Here's a drabble. Read: Myrmidon
(n.) a loyal follower, especially one who executes orders without question, protest or pity
He was a steady shooter. His strong, sturdy hands never missed their mark, especially when his weapon of choice was within his grasp. And the reason for shooting? That was not his to ponder.
The focus of his entire life had been servitude; the driving force for every action was not himself, but the one he served, whether it was his country, his agency, or now, his principle. Those scruples he had held so dear as a child were meaningless now— there was only the command and the task of executing it.
To assist in a burglary was fine. Even to kidnap a living, breathing, sentient person was not sufficient to raise a single protest within. But a murder and one out of malice, not self-defense, was a different matter altogether.
And yet, even as the deepest fibers of his being urged him to stop, to turn back, his bulky physique did not hesitate in its quest. Legs marched adamantly forward even as brain and heart cried out for mercy. That sturdy hand lifted the familiar gun and his ever-obedient finger completed the task.
To be strong, efficient, and impassive was his goal— and his destiny. He was a myrmidon.
Author's Note: In case you're confused, this is a AU drabble on Butler. Exactly 200 words (yay for conciseness!). And it's my first one about him, too! You know, this dictionary .com thing is really working for me. Their word of the day is almost always inspiring, and drabbles are a hell of a lot faster to write than Collision chapters. So, hopefully, this is something I can update far more often.
Review, review, review!!!
Thanks,
Lily
