Author Talk: Second update of the new decade! Life's been pretty great to me these days, so I think this transforming into an enthusiasm for writing!
Disclaimer: The following is a fan-based parody. She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is owned and created by Noelle Stevenson and the DreamWorks Animation Television Team, and licensed by Netflix. Please support the official release.
Smog mixed with the stench emitted from the freshly oiled sets of armour. It was stifling. The armoury's crew had been using the same cleaning rags to maintain the joints for almost as long as she had been alive, leaving greenish-brown smudges on the edges of every suit of armour here. "I swear these pieces of junk more time in maintenance than they did in the field." Lonnie muttered as she looked through the different sizing options.
She wanted to leave … but there was pressing business to attend to. This whole trip had bad news written all over it like an arrest warrant, but with slightly less threatening overtones. No, Lonnie here was going to be all business—ignoring Ping's 'request' would've been akin to disobeying a direct superior, and that simply won't do. She swore under her breath as she found the only pair of armoured boots that fit her had been taken. The equipment provided for 'non-combat purposes' received less priority, less attention, and are not placed in a set as opposed to the more respectable armour that would've been given to Force Captains.
It took the better part of an hour to have found the only other pair of boots that doesn't feel like wearing two bricks on her feet. So after a moment of trepidation, she secured the helmet on and waited for the armour to not malfunction. The moment passed. Lonnie released a sigh of relief and gracelessly walked out of the armoury thirty kilos heavier than when she walked in.
As she approached the guards standing in wait at the checkpoint, she readied a large, bulky storage container in anticipation. She stepped inside the booth and waited for the two-layered metallic shutter to roll up.
A light blared, and the face of a man slowly appeared facing her, with an expression perhaps best described as a placid disgust. He looked like he'd never seen the world beyond the thick reinforced glass standing between Lonnie and him as he regarded her with sunken eyes, and badly tousled, short, graying hair that was tilled by nervous fingers in between each shift. A long, spidery hand tapped a button, and the intercom flared to life. "Your papers, please."
"Of course," Lonnie placing a box onto the examination tray in front of him, and started the complicated process of unlocking the storage container, revealing lengthy piles of documents, photos, reference letters, and an exit pass that had been tossed hastily into the container at the last minute. The documents' ink was still runny and wet from been somewhat fresh off the printing press, using the new serif typeface that was made mandatory as of last year.
One of the first papers to grab the Inspector's attention was the exit pass with the final signature scrawled on the edge of the document in what was unmistakably Ping's handwriting and a short comment followed by two rows of neatly printed names that the Inspector then proceeded to black out with the censoring marker.
Lonnie gulped as he set aside the exit pass, and picked up the photos to hold up against her head. The intercom buzzed again, "Junior Cadet, please remove your helmet."
She saluted, and took off the helmet. There was a hiss as the locks clicked off and her hair was again liberated from the sweltering mess that was inside the helmet. The Inspector saluted back. The documents were then cross-referenced against each other, The Inspector lowered the shutter as the she dimly heard the ticking clicks of the typing machine.
There was silence. Sweat rolled down her spine as she waited for the final verdict. An hour passed as she waited. Finally, a light flashed green, the intercom flared to life as the inspector opened the shutter. "It looks like all your documents are in order, Junior Cadet Lonnie. Congratulations, it looks like you're good to go. Return within the scheduled time, and stay within the approved zone of activity as outlined in your application. Your excursion is cleared. Here's your ticket."
the Inspector stamped down on a piece of paper obscured partially by the shuttered window that separated Lonnie and him. With a gentle push, a rectangular piece of paper popped out of a slot slightly beneath the window frame. Lonnie retrieved the card, inspecting the details on the ticket with a burning curiosity and paid particular attention to the intricate red-ink stamp on the bottom of the ticket, which took the shape of a bat. With a careful glance towards the Inspector, whose face was as pale as death, she gulped down a choked scream of terror. "Do not lose it. Long live the Horde."
"Long live the Horde." Another salute. The door clicked open, and she stepped out into a large decrepit structure containing tracks carrying ironclad Titans the size of two trucks side-by-side through a dizzying series of tunnels and exits separated only by concrete platform formed from varying materials of questionable strength and durability. She stared, gaping in amazement as the thundering roars of those self-propelling beasts moved with astonishing speed carrying huge loads that she once thought was impossible.
"NO YOU IDIOTS! SLOW DOWN BEFORE IT DERAILS!" A short figure bellowed from raised portion of the room, physically changing the light signals from red to green at an excruciatingly slow speed.
"Comrade?"
Lonnie felt a light tap on her shoulder and nearly threw the figure behind her onto the floor on a chokehold until she recognised the badge on his lapel. She gave a salute and wordlessly eyed the officer up and down with a wary look. The officer was a stout and pudgy faun, with hairy hind-legs that threatened to explode out of trousers two sizes too small. "Yes? What do you want?"
"Oh, nothing, really. It's that...the displays are all malfunctioning, comrade." He bleated, pointing upwards at a series of flickering screen occasionally displaying complete gibberish. "I swear, ever since we updated the software we've been experiencing bugs. I leave messages for the Civil Infrastructures Office, but nooooo, no one ever replies. So, therefore, I have to physically walk up to every passenger to notify them of schedule changes."
"Um, I'm actually from the Office for Veterans' Benefits and Civil Infrastructure. We are...somewhat incapable of responding to recent complaints at this moment. I can write up an incident report after I get back if it makes you feel any better." Lonnie said apologetically. 'Yeah, by a margin of at least three years.'
He sighed. "Everyone knows how much of a hot potato the job is. You have our sympathies. I'm Senior Cadet Ivan, comrade. I don't believe I had pleasure of meeting you before?"
"oh, uh, Lonnie. I'm Lonnie." Lonnie replied, a hint of impatience crept into her voice. "Look, Senior Cadet Ivan, I mean no disrespect, but we all have jobs to do. I need to check up on a few projects that are spread many klicks apart, and I want to be back by dinner. If you understand me can you...go somewhere else? I'm sure your irreplaceable talents would be well-appreciated elsewhere."
"Oh. Of course, I know that. You...have a good day, good luck examining the roadsworks projects, comrade." A flick of rage flitted across Ivan's face, almost too quick for Lonnie to catch, she made a mental note to steer well clear of him in the future.
"And also, stop calling me 'comrade', comrade." Lonnie attempted to restrain her irritation. "I'm neither on your team nor do anyone else use those terms. Kindly stop."
"Hm?" He stopped in his tracks, eyes widened in an expression partway between surprise and...fear? Lonnie was no expert at reading people, and yet something about his mannerisms unnerved her in a way she cannot put into words. "Hahahahahahahah. Oh of course, comr—Junior Cadet. I am well aware of this, as a soulless Horde soldier would always have known. Absolutely, yep. I have always known this. Well, you get on examining those roadworks projects your boss want you to examine. Hopefully all goes well, then we can party like no tomorrow, eh?"
"What's a 'party'?" Lonnie asked, there were words being used that she had never heard before. Suddenly, whatever Ping had saddled her with felt less important than talking to this...Senior Cadet.
"And by that I mean absolutely nothing. Partyis a nothing-word. As meaningless as sfjdnfjrkdf. Ho. Ho. Ho." Ivan laughed in a way that felt like he was being crushed by a trash compactor. "Oh, this reminds me of something. I've got to go now. Good bye."
She examined the details on her ticket, and rushed off into the nearest passenger compartment as politely as possible. There are times where one stay well away from fellows who doesn't look all that right in the head, her past mistakes reminded her all too well of this.
Almost mechanically, she inserted ticket into the ticket-readers, and hopped into a nearby seat. There's time to spare, might as well reexamine the files Ping gave her to look at. She brought out her suitcase, and examined the documents Ping had given her. There was something about that conversation that still, inexplicably, nagged at her. She missed something, she knew in her bones that something was amiss.
It wasn't until the sliding doors attempted to close, failed, and had to be manually closed by two technicians that had clearly been working since early morning before she realised. The thing that had bothered her the entire time she had been talking with this 'Ivan'.
She tried to hop off from the speeding mechanical beast to chase him down, but it was too late. Before she could blink, it had already roared out of the Fright Zone with heavy WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP! sound that shook the floor and made the very walls tremble. Lonnie trembled, and tried to find some isolated corner of the carriage to hide herself in.
"How, how did he know where I was going when I never told him?" She whispered to herself hollowly.