((First Fanfiction, so please leave reviews and criticism! The story is NOT -totally- abandoned.)).... ((YET!))
"Bad Neighbors"
"Dysfunction Junction"
Gunnery Sergeant of the Alliance Johnson Ashmane walked spryly throughout the smoldering remains of the Horde camp towards the small set of tents that had been left in fine condition for his men, the small area looking like an oasis in a desert. Deserts aren't usually comprised of burnt tents, furniture, and gunpowder smoke; but hey, they get points for originality. The Sergeant had his shotgun over his shoulder, the wide muzzle rocking back and forth in the air; the whistling that accompanied could only be called happy, and the human had good reason to be: victory. Normally he was considered so inept that people under him didn't respect him, but Brady knew nothing. It was all a big farce, this war over Arathi. Truth be told, most of the forces of both sides had been diverted to fighting the Legion in Outland and the Scourge in Northrend. Ashmane, a swagger in his booted step, was oblivious to all of this, as was everyone else in the whole area. Sergeant Cluck had already left, giving a long -incomprehensible- speech about something or other; what, exactly, nobody knew. The gnomes had salvaged many weapons and a good load of gear from the camp before the initial burning, and now the few remaining tents were surrounded by stacks of weaponry, ammunition, and other supplies. As the Sergeant neared the tents, he spied Private Brady keeping watch over the still-unconscious Blood Elf, her rifle held in the youthful Private's arms. The gnomes scurried about, cleaning swords and axes, shields and spears, and just about anything else that needed cleaning or repair. Ashmane smiled triumphantly, reaching a hand up to scratch his orderly grey beard. Things had gone well, victory had been experienced, but there was still some fun to be had out of this war.
"Report, Private Dirtbag." Ashmane snapped as he neared, his happy smile still apparent even with the abusive tone.
"Nothin', Sir. She hasn't moved." Brady responded with a shrug, yawning and sitting back in his chair under the edge of the tent, the elf on the hard ground nearby.
"Well then, try to get 'er awake, you idler." Ashmane snorted. "I hope the new guy knows how to deal with prisoners-"
"New guy-?"
"PRISONER?" came the shrill shriek of the bound and disarmed Blood Elf, an angry, groggy expression making her almost harpy-like as she cut across Brady. "I SAID I WAS ON YOUR SIDE!" she screamed with rage, her pale face getting red and her struggles against the ropes holding her becoming more and more violent. Brady fell out of his chair with astonishment, rolling backward and hiding, sprawled out behind the furniture under the shade of the tent. Ashmane just blinked.
"But you were over here-" he began.
"Whatever! I can speak common, so why shouldn't I be on your side?! I'M THE AGENT." Lena screamed into her captor's faces, squirming.
"Oh...I see..." Ashmane responded blankly, scratching his beard and looking at the trembling Brady, who had by now managed to huddle out of vision and away from Lena, cowering in a corner.
"YES, YOU SEE. NOW LET ME GO!" she screamed once more, finally loosening her bonds enough to begin worming free. After a few moments of this, Lena stood up in her dark leather armor, her light-blond hair a mess and out of its standard ponytail, with rage clear on her face. Throughout it all, Ashmane watched complacently, looking from Brady to Lena to the scurrying gnomes.
After a moment, he commented. "We don't really need you anymore; aren't women supposed to be cooking at the home or something?" A gruff chuckle accompanied this, the Sergeant pulling his shotgun off of his shoulder and placing it over his chest loosely, a challenging grin on his face.
"D-d-don't mess with her, Sir! She'll eat you alive..." Brady said in a tortured whisper, trying to shrink into the corner. Ashmane turned to look at him, snorting.
"Psh, she's just a little blood elf woman; what could she-?"
*SLAP* Ashmane reeled, clutching at the side of his face and dropping his shotgun. Lena towered over his prostrate form, a wrathful look on her face. "I'll claw your sexist, human face off, rip out your primate skull, and beat you to death with it, THAT'S WHAT!" With a sharp kick, she left Ashmane on the floor, hunched up and rocking back and forth whimpering.
The gnomes, scattered around the untorched earth, snickered to themselves as they watched the woman leave Sergeant Ashmane in pain, and move over to yell incomprehensibly at the cowering form of Brady.