I'm back! Even though I have very few readers . . .
StarlightWarrior: Yay! I'm glad you liked it!
Raven Firedragon: Yes, the chair is here. Boromir as a nice guy is indeed a neglected topic. But hey, here it is. Wonderful author . . . yeesh.
And here we have it: Chapter 10. I'm so proud . . .
Raven: Warrior, Huntress, return to the London Citadel for a progress meeting.
Huntress: Warrior's busy right now, but I'll relay the message. We'll be there.
Raven: Good. Unit Commander number 571?
#571: Yes, ma'am?
Raven: We need you in London too. This time tomorrow. Be there.
#571: Yes, ma'am.
//#571 has signed off//
Reaper: So obedient, aren't they?
Raven: Don't push it, Reaper.
* * * *
Boromir entered the main chamber of the Raven's headquarters in Lon Don. This, like its counterpart in the You Ess Ay, had now been fully painted in the red and black of the Raven administration. On the centre of each wall was the symbol of the new government – the simple bird surmounted by what was apparently an 'omega' and with a Feanorian letter, Ore, under each wing. Boromir felt it was . . . appropriate.
Behind him, Sarah, the Huntress, appeared in the doorway. "Come on, Boromir," she said, impatient, "we'll be late."
Sighing, the Man moved on, down to the central platform where the Raven, David and one of the elves – clad in dress armour – were seated around a large wooden table, vaguely reminiscent of the one in the Great Chamber back home.
The two took their seats, and the Raven began to speak. "We have achieved our goal. David and I, accompanied by several of our best commandos, infiltrated the French government building and planted a bomb, which erased all trace of their President from the Earth. Sarah? How did your side of the mission go?"
The golden haired girl looked at her leader. "We entered the Chancellor's office and eliminated him. There was some . . . unauthorised activity by one of the commandos, but I'll raise that later."
The Raven nodded, her eyes sparkling. "As you wish. Number five seventy-one, how is the cleanup going?"
The elf rose. "We have successfully driven out the last occupants of the two governmental buildings, and are making great progress integrating the materiel of the two armies. However, losses incurred over the last few weeks lead me to request that the Lady Sarah bring in a few more of our comrades from . . . wherever it is."
Boromir wondered at the choice of words, and then recalled that, where he had had the entire resurrection thing explained, it was deemed too complicated to tell the elves the whole story. So the unit commander was a little . . . confused.
"He did *what*?" came the Raven's cry, startling the Gondorian out of his reflections. Sarah looked back at the black haired girl. "Your commando started quoting Monty Python in the middle of the operation" she repeated. The Raven sighed.
"I knew I shouldn't have let him watch those videos. Hmm . . ." The girl – young woman – sat in thought for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Such disobedience cannot go unpunished. What's that old saying? Let the punishment fit the crime . . . number 571, please bring in commando number 342. Escort him down to the special dungeon."
It was a while later, and Boromir was passing through the Citadel, searching for Raven, Reaper or Huntress. All seemed to have disappeared, and the warrior was left with nothing to do. As he passed over the inlaid pattern in the floor – the Raven's symbol again, this time in polished ebony – he thought he heard a faint voice crying out in Sindarin. "No, please, not the red uniforms . . . Aiee! No! The comfy chair . . . no . . ."
But he may have been mistaken.
* * * *
And there you are. Worship the Python. It is most Monty. (Or so they keep saying)
And you can worship me too if you want. Or at least give me a review. Please?
hS
StarlightWarrior: Yay! I'm glad you liked it!
Raven Firedragon: Yes, the chair is here. Boromir as a nice guy is indeed a neglected topic. But hey, here it is. Wonderful author . . . yeesh.
And here we have it: Chapter 10. I'm so proud . . .
Raven: Warrior, Huntress, return to the London Citadel for a progress meeting.
Huntress: Warrior's busy right now, but I'll relay the message. We'll be there.
Raven: Good. Unit Commander number 571?
#571: Yes, ma'am?
Raven: We need you in London too. This time tomorrow. Be there.
#571: Yes, ma'am.
//#571 has signed off//
Reaper: So obedient, aren't they?
Raven: Don't push it, Reaper.
* * * *
Boromir entered the main chamber of the Raven's headquarters in Lon Don. This, like its counterpart in the You Ess Ay, had now been fully painted in the red and black of the Raven administration. On the centre of each wall was the symbol of the new government – the simple bird surmounted by what was apparently an 'omega' and with a Feanorian letter, Ore, under each wing. Boromir felt it was . . . appropriate.
Behind him, Sarah, the Huntress, appeared in the doorway. "Come on, Boromir," she said, impatient, "we'll be late."
Sighing, the Man moved on, down to the central platform where the Raven, David and one of the elves – clad in dress armour – were seated around a large wooden table, vaguely reminiscent of the one in the Great Chamber back home.
The two took their seats, and the Raven began to speak. "We have achieved our goal. David and I, accompanied by several of our best commandos, infiltrated the French government building and planted a bomb, which erased all trace of their President from the Earth. Sarah? How did your side of the mission go?"
The golden haired girl looked at her leader. "We entered the Chancellor's office and eliminated him. There was some . . . unauthorised activity by one of the commandos, but I'll raise that later."
The Raven nodded, her eyes sparkling. "As you wish. Number five seventy-one, how is the cleanup going?"
The elf rose. "We have successfully driven out the last occupants of the two governmental buildings, and are making great progress integrating the materiel of the two armies. However, losses incurred over the last few weeks lead me to request that the Lady Sarah bring in a few more of our comrades from . . . wherever it is."
Boromir wondered at the choice of words, and then recalled that, where he had had the entire resurrection thing explained, it was deemed too complicated to tell the elves the whole story. So the unit commander was a little . . . confused.
"He did *what*?" came the Raven's cry, startling the Gondorian out of his reflections. Sarah looked back at the black haired girl. "Your commando started quoting Monty Python in the middle of the operation" she repeated. The Raven sighed.
"I knew I shouldn't have let him watch those videos. Hmm . . ." The girl – young woman – sat in thought for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Such disobedience cannot go unpunished. What's that old saying? Let the punishment fit the crime . . . number 571, please bring in commando number 342. Escort him down to the special dungeon."
It was a while later, and Boromir was passing through the Citadel, searching for Raven, Reaper or Huntress. All seemed to have disappeared, and the warrior was left with nothing to do. As he passed over the inlaid pattern in the floor – the Raven's symbol again, this time in polished ebony – he thought he heard a faint voice crying out in Sindarin. "No, please, not the red uniforms . . . Aiee! No! The comfy chair . . . no . . ."
But he may have been mistaken.
* * * *
And there you are. Worship the Python. It is most Monty. (Or so they keep saying)
And you can worship me too if you want. Or at least give me a review. Please?
hS