Look at this! Look at this! It's barely a month since I last updated! It must be some kind of record for me (we'll just forget the time, at the beginning of SB when I used to update weekly, shall we? I was young and unburdened back then. Yes. -cough-). So I shall not grovel and apologise here. Make the most of it, I'll be back to the pathetic pleading for you not to hate me next update.
TO MY REVIEWERS: Ah, my lovelies, and how are you today? Many many many thanks to TinkerBell394587, cookie monster, Xan the Great (-stern look- you know, changing your name all the time makes it VERY difficult for me with my appalling memory...), Her Supreme Bubblegumness (hi Rad!), suga CraZie, Tie Kerl (and Kel? Are you speaking for her, Tie, or are you holding her permanently captive? ;) Yeah, the magic thing's easy to miss. It's in the prologue. Holly's running low on magic, purely for the convenience of making life harder for her and easier for me, haha. Yes, abused Holly is a nice prospect, I agree... I have a few schemes myself... -devious cackle-), Z 2004, Holly Rox, IrethAncalime3791, VIV, Laughing Dragoness, Ever1, Ryu-Gi, and OceanChild. I love you all! Remember to collect your FREE official 'Make-Muse-Come-To-London' campaign T-shirt on the way out! ESPECIALLY those of you in America and Canada, 'cos they're GOING there, Frond damnit! -cries- Its so unfair!
A/N: Just a couple of notices today... firstly, I should really point out, least The Oracle accuses me of trying to steal her, that The Serendiptuous (Sher, you need to correct the spelling on that so Word stops underlining it, it's driving me nuts...) Oracle and myself make a very small cameo in this chapter. (Nono! Don't leave!) Look out for Random Secretary No. 1 (The Oracle) and Random Secretary No. 2 (myself). I should also confess that the button line was all the Oracle's idea... we were in a rather strange mood in our A-level maths class... Indices and Surds will do that to you... And secondly, this chapter may be terrible. Or it may be brilliant. I like it, but you may find it too fluffy and insubstantial and too full-on in the humour department. If so, I am very sorry. I just couldn't seem to find the angst inspiration this chapter... So I hope you like it.
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"You're late." growled Root as Captain Short stepped sheepishly into the Operation's Booth at exactly thirteen minutes past the hour. "Where the hell were you?"
Holly tried desperately to ignore the carrot in Foaly's hand. "I, erm, I was... waylaid on the way in, sir." she stuttered, staring at the ground.
The centaur snorted. "Waylaid? By what? A tuna sandwich?"
Holly's head shot up indignantly. "No!" she berated him, then blushed. "Actually, it was a chocolate bar and a nettle smoothie..."
The commander stared at her, dumbfounded. "A what?"
"I was hungry!" cried Holly defensively. "I didn't get any food last night, because I was in the med. centre and I didn't have time for breakfast this morning! Anyway, the guy was a right porker, it's not like he needed all the glorious, fatty, chocolatey calories," She paused to salivate lightly. "Whereas me, well, look at me! I'm skin and bones!" She stopped and glared malignantly at Foaly. "D'Arvit, pony, just gimme the bloody carrot!"
The technician's eyes widened horsily and he handed it over meekly.
Root seemed to be struggling with the facts. "Back up a second, Short. This 'guy' and his, er... chocolate bar... What did you do to them?"
Holly made a face and waved the rapidly disappearing carrot descriptively. "Oh, I followed him for a while, but he finally caught on and dived into the men's loo." She took a bite. "I wasn't going to follow him in there. Do you know how bad those things smell? I have no idea how you put up with it. Us girls, we keep our toilet clean, but you blokes... Disgusting. I wasn't about to eat a chocolate bar that had been in there."
Root and Foaly simply stared at her, disbelief etched into their raised eyebrows.
Suddenly Holly began to blink rapidly and shake her head, as if she was trying to dislodge something. She looked in confusion at the orange vegetable in her hand.
"But I don't even like carrots!" she muttered. She slung it into the nearest incinerator, then brought her head up to look at the other two's stunned expressions. "It's doing it again, isn't it? The curse. Making a fool of me." They nodded and she said something utterly untypeable involving a certain gremlin, a chainsaw and a very sensitive part of the male anatomy. Root and Foaly winced at the thought.
With a resigned sigh she sank into a chair and removed her helmet. "Ok, tell me the bad news. What colour? And don't say fluorescent pink."
Foaly coughed to hide a chuckle. "Brown. Chocolate brown as it happens. Here." He handed her the necessaries and watched with a faint grin as she applied the disguise. He nodded his approval when she had finished, and turned to the commander. "So, bossman? Brief us our briefing."
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Holly seethed quietly to herself, fingers unconsciously clenching and unclenching. Damn Root, damn him to hell. Suspending her from active duty was one thing, but confiscating her cafeteria pass was just sadism, pure and simple. Holly ground her teeth, and her fingers crushed the plastic cup she had been holding. And then to deny her access to the soup machine, with its delicious warm, goodness, well... The man was just not fit to be around other people. He should be confined to some tiny dank dungeon of an office as near to the centre of the earth as possible, and the sooner the better.
Holly gazed sadly into the bottom of the desecrated cup, but couldn't see any final traces of congealed coffee. Without access to nourishment she'd been forced to rely on the leftover dregs from her numerous beverages the day before. The muscles in her tongue were aching from trying to reach too far.
Absentmindedly she began chewing on the sleeve of her jumpsuit, but the tough coating held together firmly, refusing to be digested. Damn Foaly and his indestructible polymer. Holly sniffed. It probably wouldn't have been very filling anyway.
She was starving. Ravenous. She'd never been so hungry in all her life. Maybe that was why Beetroot had taken her pass, so that she'd eventually starve to death. Well, he had never been happy about her joining Recon, but this was a step too far. If he wanted rid of her, he should just come out and say it instead of trying to murder her in sly and devious ways. Ooh, when the council found out about this... He and his terrible ways would be gone and they would reward her for the diagnosis of such a danger to society... Holly's mind filled with the mounds of roast potatoes, stacks and stacks of chocolate bars, infinite platefuls of steaming pasta, humongous chocolate cakes floating in oceans of cream...
The vidphone on her desk beeped loudly, scattering her fantasies to the winds. Holly picked up the receiver resentfully.
"Short, it's Root. I'm just calling to check up on you, making sure you haven't assaulted any more officers." There was a worried pause. "You haven't, have you?"
Holly's lip curled, and she hissed lowly. "Yes, I bet you'd just love that wouldn't you!" she snarled. "Another chance to try and get rid of me, well, let me tell you something, sir, I'm not going anywhere! You can try to knock me off, mister, but it ain't going to work! You can try to murder me in all your sneaky ways, but you just take it from me, I won't just lie down and let you! I'm a fighter, Julius! A fighter!" And with that she slammed down the device, defiance oozing from every pore.
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In his office, Root stared at the silent receiver in bewilderment.
"What was all that about?" he muttered.
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At around midday the parts of her mind that Holly was still able to control decided that it was high time she got out of the office. It was pathetic, really. The girl had been sitting in her chair for the past half an hour trying to stop herself from eating the memos. They had lain invitingly in front of her, their bright colours shining encouragingly and it had taken all her self-control not to reach forward, snatch one and stuff it between her teeth.
Holly strolled leisurely down the corridor, eyeing up the passers-by. She had never really considered cannibalism seriously before, but now that she thought about it, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. It was at this point that the little voice of sanity at the back of her mind reminded her that she would probably get locked up for consuming her colleagues, and that prison food was atrocious and insubstantial. That had swung it, and the captain had ceased licking her lips every time an overweight fairy passed her.
She drew level with the drinks machine and stared mournfully at it, and the card reader that allowed an officer access to said beverages. Root really was a bastard. She tore herself away and began to drift towards the canteen.
Suddenly, a skinny gnome stepped into the corridor ahead of her, and in his hand was – Holly's heart skipped a beat – a sandwich. A big one. With lettuce and bacon spilling over the edges. It was the most delicious-looking thing the elf had ever seen. She had to have it. The gnome would understand. How would he live with himself if she died of starvation while he gorged himself on that beauty?
Holly broke into a run behind him. The little fellow turned slightly at the sound, looking over his shoulder, but was too late to dodge to one side as the captain leapt and latched herself onto his back, legs wrapped around his waist and arms gripping his shoulders. Well, one arm anyway. The other was desperately clawing for the food.
Holly wasn't sure if he'd got the message as he wasn't moving it closer. "Give me the sandwich!" she yelled in his ear, deafening him on that side.
The initial shock having worn off, the gnome proceeded to try and shake her off. Holly reasoned that he obviously hadn't heard her.
"GIVE ME THE SANDWICH!" she shouted, louder this time, in the other ear.
The gnome stuttered in amazement. After all, it was not every day that you got assaulted from behind by a deranged BLT-addict. The situation was already crazed enough, so he decided he might as well fight back.
"NO!" he screamed back, twisting from side to side to try and dislodge her. "It's mine! You can't have it! Go make your own!"
"GIVE – ME – THE – SANDWICH!" Holly repeated, pulling his hair with one hand and reaching with the other. "YOU DON'T NEED IT! IF I DIE IT'LL BE ALL YOUR FAULT!"
The gnome gasped as fiery pain rippled across his scalp.
"No! My girlfriend got up to make this specially for me!"
"Oh, so she's your slave is she, your hand maid? WHEN WILL YOU BASTARDS STOP EXPLOITING WOMEN AND TREATING THEM LIKE SERVANTS!"
"I don't treat her like a servant! She's going away for a few months, today was our last morning together! She didn't want to spend it sleeping!"
"I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S GOING AWAY, IT'S NO EXCUSE!" Holly paused for breath. "Look, this is getting us nowhere. Just give me the sandwich."
"But – "
"GIVE IT TO ME!" Holly grabbed a fist full of his uniform, pulling his nametag round so that she could read it. "HA! Corporal! I outrank you! You have to do what I say! NOW GIVE ME THE DAMN SANDWICH!"
The poor guy had had enough. With a final lurch he threw the elf to the floor and then chucked the now dangerously unstable sandwich at her. Well, roughly at her.
"You know what, fine! Just take it!" He stumbled away as fast as he could, breaking into a run, and Holly could have sworn she'd heard him mutter something like 'Psychopathic bitch'. Or at least, she would have if she had been listening, and not joyfully picking the fragments of the sandwich from her uniform
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Hours later, having fluctuated irregularly between sanity and hunger and attempted to make off with Foaly's secret stash of carrots (the centaur had rigged trip wires everywhere, and before she had even had a chance to touch a single carrot an alarm had sounded and a laser mesh cage had descended around her) Holly was becoming desperate. She felt like she hadn't eaten for a decade, and that if she didn't get some food soon she'd waste away to nothing, and when they opened up her office to see what had happened to her, all they'd find would be an empty uniform and a pile of bones.
Dejectedly, she began to chew on the waxed paper that had once been wrapped around that most beautiful of inventions, the mushroom burger. When Foaly had brought it over from the canteen she had almost overturned her desk, computer and all, in her eagerness to reach it. In fact, the centaur had looked slightly fearful as she snatched it gleefully from his hands and ripped the paper off in one frenzied motion, stuffing the entire thing into her mouth. Then, realising that the burger was bigger than her mouth, she had spat it messily out onto the paper, and proceeded to gnaw it ecstatically. Foaly had backed away cautiously, and could be heard later in the day remarking that he'd never seen anyone so pleased to see something that had associations with the LEP deep fat fryer.
But now, over fifteen minutes later, Captain Short felt as though her stomach had shrunk to the size of a pea and was trying to drag the rest of her with it. Needless to say, the mission reports were suffering again. Not to mention chewed.
With a growl (both from her stomach and her throat) Holly stalked out of her cubicle, slamming the door behind her. Root had taken her food pass? Fine. She'd just have to improvise. With a devious cackle, she started towards the cafeteria.
Stakeout was her first port of call. A good ambush always benefited from hours (well, minutes would do fine, she reasoned) of stakeout. That's what Chix Verbal had insisted on telling her on their first shift together in E37, and at least once a week for months after that. Holly shuddered at the memory. Thank Frond for the criminals that kept her away from that pod...
So, positioned subtly behind the large spider plant that stood opposite the entrance to the canteen, the captain had peered surreptitiously through the foliage for as long as twenty minutes before she decided she'd done quite enough stakeout. It was really very simple. People came in, looking slightly apprehensive yet determined, and came out looking slightly sick and with that expression that can only be described as representing the phrase 'never again'.
The second thing on the list was the disguise. She couldn't very well go in there in her LEPRecon uniform wearing a name tag and showing several overwhelming symptoms of belonging to the female sex, what sanity remained to her had warned. She'd be recognised in a mere nanosecond. And it was because of this that hours later a bemused janitor could be seen drifting though the corridors, wondering somewhat half-heartedly what had become of his clothes outwards of underwear and what exactly had happened to cause the pain (and the bump) on his head.
However, Holly still had the problem of her face, it being inconveniently both visible and distinguishable from any other face in the establishment. She scowled. That was Evolution giving her the finger, she was sure. Was there some grander conspiracy of which Root and his evil ways were just pawns? Probably, she concluded glumly. Someone up there evidently didn't like her.
Gloomy reflections aside, Holly knew she had to find a way to overcome the difficulty of identification and no sooner had she realised this than the solution presented herself, make-up plastered on, eye-brows plucked and hair coifed to within an inch of its life. As Lili Frond stepped out of the room on one side of the corridor, Captain Short's face split into a huge grin as she took in the clinging blouse, tiny skirt and most importantly, the tighted legs. The corporal would have second thoughts about ever wearing the LEP suggested uniform for female staff not on active duty again...
If she had had the sense, Lili would have obeyed her instincts, and run as fast as she could away from the devious smirk on Captain Short's face as she tapped her on the shoulder. However, the bimbo of the LEP had not earned her title for nothing.
Her pretty face split into a dazzling smile. "Captain Short! What can I do for you?"
Holly showed a few more molars. "Could you come with me a moment? I need your help with something."
The delight in Lili's face was visible. Since day one, Holly had either ignored her or had been entirely disdainful of her. This was a great leap. Maybe finally they could be friends...
"Sure!" She added a complementary eyelash flutter and followed the elf as she led the way down the hall, and stopped in front of a store cupboard.
"There's something in there I need your opinion on." explained Holly, the picture of innocence. She opened the door and as Lili leaned in to look around, planted a foot in the small of her back and pushed, sending the girl barrelling into the small room. Then, with a quick look over her shoulder, she stepped in after her and shut the door.
After maybe five minutes of mysterious bumps, scuffling sounds and indignant squawks, she emerged, lip bleeding a little, something that looked suspiciously like a scratch on her cheek and a pair of tan-coloured tights in her hand.
She looked up and down the space again, and closed the door with a snap, flicking the catch. The door would now only open from the outside.
Resisting the urge to cackle at her genius, she pulled the tights over her head and ran for the cafeteria.
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"Stand and deliver!" Holly leapt through the opening of the canteen, pointing an (unloaded and unusable) stun gun at the podgy gnome behind the serving hatch, all signs of her identity concealed by what appeared to be an overly large blue boiler suit and some sort of netting wrapped tightly around the general area above the neck.
The entire population of the room stared at her in disbelief. The gnome stuttered, trying not to laugh.
"Stand and deliver what?" she inquired, spreading her arms to reveal a liberally stained apron. "We ain't got no money here. It's all a card system!"
The mysterious figure halted and seemed to consider this. "No, no, I didn't mean money, you fool." She straightened her shoulders. "Stand and deliver... the spaghetti bolognese!"
The woman snorted. "You what?" She shook her head, grinning. "Look, sorry love, but I think you're in the wrong place. Try the bank over the road."
There was a murmur of laughter from the watching diners. Holly didn't like it. This was a serious business! Well, she'd show them just how serious she was...
With one swift motion, she grabbed a random secretary who had been about to walk past her and held the geriatric weapon to her temple. The elf froze, her eyes peering fearfully out from a curtain of thick black hair.
Across the cafeteria, the random secretary's random friend shot out of her seat, reaching desperately towards her co-worker.
"No!" she shrieked. "But we haven't finished counting the buttons!"
"QUIET!" roared Holly. "I don't care about the buttons! If any one moves, and I don't get that food within thirty seconds, she gets it, understand?" She waved the firearm threateningly, and was pleased to note that most of the smiles had vanished.
The gnome swallowed nervously, already regretting her jibes. "Ok, take it easy love, one portion of spag bol coming right up."
Holly shook her head. "Idiot! You think I went to all this trouble for one measly portion? I want the whole batch!"
The woman looked uncertain. "Er, sorry, but LEP policy clearly states that there is a limit of one portion per person."
Holly pressed the gun a little harder to the secretary's head, causing her to emit a startled squeal.
"A-Alright, take it easy, calm down. We can make an exception this one time, I'm sure."
Holly edged closer to the hatch. "Slide it over the counter." she instructed. "And put a fork in it."
The gnome did as she was told, deftly wielding the heavy tray with her thick arms. "Do you want a pot-holder to carry it with?" Holly gave her a blank look. "The metal gets pretty hot, is all."
Captain Short considered. "Yes. A pot-holder would be very helpful." She paused. "Thank you."
Protective article applied, she loosened her hold on the secretary, and seized the tray, tucking it firmly underneath her arm, resting it on her hip. With her free hand, she pointed the gun at the trembling elf before her.
"No one moves until I clear the doors! Or she gets it! This thing's not set to stun!"
No one argued. They were too startled to even consider giving chase.
Holly backed towards the exit, weapon trained on her hostage. When she felt the doors behind her she pushed them open, threw the rusting metal object at the nearest officer's head as a distraction and clasping her prize with both hands, turned and sprinted down the corridor as fast as she could, dodging curious passers-by as she went.
She flew past Root's office and skidded to a halt, panting. She'd never make it as far as her own cubicle, and surely Julius wouldn't mind if she borrowed his for a little while? Shifting the tray to her hip again, she wrenched the door open, slamming it behind her and threw the bolt across. (Root was a sucker for traditional security measures. He always said you couldn't beat 10 centimetres of solid steel)
Grinning like the maniac she was proving herself to be, Holly set the huge vessel reverentially on the desk, parked herself in the chair, retrieved the fork from its sticky mess and proceeded to stuff herself silly.
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Root strolled down the hallway and for the first time in what felt like centuries contrived to feel minutely cheerful. Today had been a good day. None of his officers had mysteriously disappeared, been mauled by trolls, caused a sudden downpour of lawyers or endangered the whole fairy civilisation. He attributed this entirely to the fact that Captain Short was temporarily suspended from active duty, and it caused him to reminisce longingly of the time before he had met her.
Needless to say, he hadn't heard about the incident in the cafeteria. Mainly because it was so outrageous that no-one had believed the witnesses, including themselves. In fact, most of them had been booked in to see the LEP's resident psychiatrist. Had he known this, he would have been a shade less perky.
Switching his coffee to the other hand, he swiped his Access Card through the lock and twisted the handle to his office. Nothing happened. He tried again, except this time a small metallic voice informed him; "Bolt engaged."
Frowning, he wrenched the knob, but still there was no response. On impulse he pressed his ear to the door, and through the wood he thought he heard... Was that singing? If so, whoever it was needed a few lessons before they attempted such an activity again. It almost sounded like...
Suddenly he started hammering on the door, remembering all too well what day it was, the implications of this and most importantly, the emergency supply of gin he kept in his bottom draw...
He almost fell into the room as the door suddenly swung open to reveal Captain Short, an almost empty bottle dangling dangerously from her hand.
"Juliush!" she roared heartily, flinging an arm round his shoulders (no mean feat as she was a good deal shorter than him) and dragging him through the opening. "So nice of you to come!" Her speech was decidedly slurred and it took all his concentration to decipher what in Frond's name she was talking about.
"Er..." he managed, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. "Hi."
Holly dissolved into frenzied giggles as if this were the funniest thing in the world, causing her to lurch sideways as she tripped over her own feet.
"Woah!" She toppled over and fell into a messy giggling heap on the floor. "When did the world get so bumpy?"
"About half a bottle ago." muttered Root, hauling her back up and leading her firmly to the chair.
"Wait there." he instructed sternly as she lolled sideways. Punching the button for Ops, he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear.
"Foaly? Yeah, it's me. Listen, it's about Captain Short, she – Well, what do you mean you're looking for her, she's right here – No! She didn't! Please tell me you're joking. Yeah, I've found her all right... And she's found my gin, D'Arvit. Yup, she's blind drunk. Just get down here. Now, pony!"
He slammed the device back into its cradle and turned to see Holly waving her finger in the air, a look of intense concentration on her face.
"No, Juliush, you see, I'm dot nunk!" She burst out laughing. "Noth – noth thunk. No!" More laughter. Then, very carefully. "I'm no - not drunk! I'm perfectly thober!" She grinned triumphantly. Root rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to bang his head repeatedly against the wall. Just.
They both turned to look as the door flew open and the red-faced technical consultant trotted in, looking none-too-pleased with the situation.
He took in the scene with wide, golden eyes, not missing the empty tray and fork thrown callously into it, nor the bottle Holly was clutching to her as though it were a life-raft.
"How much exactly has she had, Julius?" he whinnied unhappily.
"About the entire bottle. It was almost full before she got her cursed mitts on it. It's a miracle she's still conscious, really. That much could knock out a bull troll."
Behind him, the captain took another swig, gasping and wincing as the burning liquid hit the back of her throat. Quick as a flash, Root snatched it from her fingers.
"That's quite enough for you, my girl." He told her, before glancing at the bottle thoughtfully and upending it over his mouth. Everything always looked better after a drink, he reminded himself.
Foaly spread his hairy palms helplessly. "What are we going to do with her now? We've got to her home without anyone seeing her!"
Root had caught the hint in this. "Oh no. Definitely not. I am not doing it! She can throw up all over someone else's boots!"
Oblivious to all the consternation she was causing, Holly was playing with the commander's stapler.
"Oh, come on, Julius, this is no time to be squeamish! It's got to be you or me and there's no way I can possibly do it! Anyway, she probably won't be sick for a little while yet, so if you hurry she might just make it home!"
Root pointed a stern finger at him. "Now you listen here, pony-boy. First, don't call me Julius. Second, why in Frond's name can't you do it? You know her far better than I do, you k now where she lives and if people see you leaving together they'll think nothing of it!"
The centaur shook his head. "No, I can't leave Ops now! It'll take me at least an hour to properly secure the booth! This is just what Koboi's been waiting for! A chance to sneak in where I've accidentally left a port open, and then she'll spread through the system like – "
"Foaly, you should really read your memos. Opal Koboi's currently serving a life-sentence in Howler's Peak. She's not 'sneaking in' anywhere!"
"No, Julius, you see, that's where you're wrong. That's exactly what she wants you to think."
Root rolled his eyes, irritation growing by the second. "Look, I don't have time for this! You're taking her home, and that's final!"
Foaly resisted the urge to cackle. "No, Julius, you see that's where you're wrong. I'm a civilian here. I'm not under the same obligation as your minions to follow orders. I'll print you off the address and a map." And with that he swept (well, as much as one with four hooves can sweep) from the room.
Commander Root stared after him, lips moving silently. "Bloody pony." he managed eventually.
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Hours later, as Captain Kelp strolled along the corridors, he heard a desperate banging and shrieking coming from behind the cupboard door to his left. Cautiously he flicked back the catch, only to find Lili Frond looking thankfully up at him.
She climbed a little unsteadily to her feet, graciously accepting the offered hand.
"Thank you so much, Trouble, I don't know what I would have done if no-one had heard me!" Her fingers lingered in his slightly longer than necessary, but in his bemused state, the elf barely noticed them there.
Lili smoothed her shirt and treated him to a dazzling smile. "Well, thank you, Captain. I must be getting back to work." She turned and began to walk off.
"Er..." Trouble stuttered. He blushed. "You're not wearing a skirt, Corporal."
Frond looked down as if to confirm this and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, that's OK," she reassured him. "I look hot without a skirt."
And with that, hips swaying provocatively, she veritably pranced away from him. Trouble stared after her, blinking rapidly to try and change what he was seeing. With a muttered comment about what a week he was having, he retreated to his cubicle to polish his medals.
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-peers cautiously out from behind the ff.n frame- Was it awful? Did you hate it? The next one... heck, I dunno, the inspiration has yet to strike but hopefully it will be better...
Review, of course, as ever, for I crave the feedback... Oh, and one more thing.
REQUEST FOR AN AUTHOR INTERESTING IN DOING AN RP:
This is not to do with me, but with my friend LEPrecon Captain, who says she can't find anyone to do one with, and she's very bored, and I'm being evil and not doing another one ('cos I don't like RP too much...). And I'm sure there are loads of you out there who would jump at the chance. So her email and SN are (and she gave these to me to give to you, so I'm not carelessly giving out sacred info):
AIM: KaibasSis
EMAIL: l e p r e c o n (underscore) c a p t a i n (at) h o t m a i l . c o m (delete spaces - ff.n's being a poo-head about them)
If you're interested, she'd love to hear from you, I'm sure. Anyway, I'm off, going to stand out in the rain wearing a baking tray on my head and hope I attract a sudden flash of inspiration (or lightening, alternatively) and I shall see you... well, never, really, but anyway... hopefully I won't take forever to update. I'm through the hardest chapters now, so it SHOULD get easier...
slime xxxxxxxxxxxxx