Fandom: Megaman Legends 2
Title: Have a Nice Day
Subject: Enter the Mail Clerk
Wordcount: 314
Pairing: N/A
Characters: Some mailman and your typical Sephiroth clone thing.
Rating: PG
Notes: I wrote this in "honor" of some kid at the Legends roleplaying thread who wanted to inject his tall, shady character of killer doom, and his writing at the time was really bad too. As of now, I am out of the roleplay for the sake of my sanity. I had to advance the plot and teacher the hell out of him not to control my characters. I was VERY CLOSE to snapping.
I'm sorry. In other words, there is a lack of canon Legends characters here. Try the next one.
The old, crabby Yosyonke mail clerk shuffled away, trying to sort out his letters the best he could. It was hard, considering that some of these young whippersnappers wrote like drugged-up hens. He hated his shift, really. Not to mention the weather; he hated the cold too. Today's weather had been particularly rough, the winds picking up and the snow pouring down.
Just then, the door to the post office swung open. Wide open. Enough for the withered, old clerk to feel the chilly air rush around him and blow all of his sorted and unsorted mail all over the place. Damn him.
"I've come for your doom," the figure in the doorway breathed, looking as ominous as he could be with his long coat whipping about in the wind.
"Fine, whatever. Just shut the damn door, you little snot." The clerk was scrambling about, trying to pick up the letters now scattered here and there. His bitterness was not misplaced.
The figure walked over to the desk, his heavy boots clunking on the floor, his gait slow and screaming of gothic impending bloody-death-and-doom.
The clerk was not daunted. "May I help you?"
"Yes," the figure continued to breathe, obscured in shadows for some reason despite the blindingly bright, new fluorescent lighting. He raised a long sword from out of nowhere, aiming it at the clerk's throat.
The clerk snorted and with great skill, threw an envelope with such precision and accuracy that only a master of his caliber could rival right into the mysterious stranger's forehead, killing him instantly. His body made a nice thump as it hit the floor, still obscured in shadows.
"My shift's done," he grumped, finishing his task with gathering up the misplaced letters and leaving them on the desk for some other guy on the next shift. "Good thing that was only the junk mail. Who needs it?"
Fin