round robin – parade in space
I SHOULD BE WRITING FOR RP BUT—
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Figured that her first major run would be dead boring. The Captain of the Space Patrol Second Fleet paced the balcony of the Space Patrol Council’s meeting chambers, on the lookout for suspicious activity or persons. A little redundant, as any intruder would have had to bypass the sixty (not an exaggeration) other patrol routes, meaning the Captain would long have been alerted if such were the case.
She was also in high heels. Uniform dress code, which she thought was deliberate sabotage. No one could walk in the damned things. No one. But, as a parade figurehead and a mere symbol of the Space Patrol, she thought she probably cut an imposing figure, pacing with rigid regularity and threatening demeanor. Learning to pace long amounts of time in high heels was actually one of the first things drilled into new recruits and enforced from time to time.
“Captain!” Lieutenant Henry strode confidently to her side—a little too confidently, she thought, for someone who had been stumbling, bitching, and whining the entire duration of the Hellish High Heels Practice. He must have finally gotten the hang of it just five minutes ago in order not to look a clumsy idiot in front of their spectators.
“Lieutenant,” Captain Rilice acknowledged. Quieter, she said, “Tell me you’ve come to relieve me.”
Henry gave her a scandalized look. Who, me?
Rilice sighed.
“Confirmation of orders,” he said regally, also for the benefit of their spectators, and, contrary to their shared looks, began pacing the Patrol route as Rilice looked over the document Henry handed her.
“All looks to be in order,” she declared, handing it back to him when he had passed by her in his pacing. He nodded exagerratedly, and she waited a beat until Henry had reached the edge of the balcony before she resumed her own pacing.
Dull. As. Rocks.
round robin | Jac the Tripper | 11 September 2009 |
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By sarah, September 12, 2009 @ 10:49 pm
wait, guys wear the high heels too?
By Jac the Idiot, September 13, 2009 @ 4:06 am
Yes. They’re not, like, stilettos or anything, just high enough and stiff enough to make a clacking noise whenever they move. Should’ve explained that better in the first place, huh. |D;;
By Jac the Idiot, October 3, 2009 @ 11:13 am
A skittering along her senses was her only warning. Rilice looked up at the sky, just in time to witness the explosion. It was a half second response to engage her anti-glare, and even so it took two seconds—two seconds too long—for her vision to return to normal. She heard Henry curse, beside her, and from the smell of ozone knew his gun was drawn. Her own was in her hand, and she raised it to block the short rod coming at her head.
She had only a glimpse of shockingly red hair and crazed, fanatic black eyes before her assailant was down, shot by Henry’s gun.
Rilice took one look at the airship hovering above the balcony, dispatching more attackers, before turning to dash inside. She heard a few more blasts and a few more curses and then Henry was by her side. “How did they get past the sixty other routes without being noticed?” he shouted.
He’d had to shout; Rilice almost hadn’t heard him over the turmoil that lay in their path. “Special passes and turncoats,” Rilice hissed.
She ducked under an overhang while Henry vaulted over it, a dash through the short hallway and then they were there, drawing their guns.
—Too late. Most of the Space Patrol Council lay dead, and Rilice could only watch as, impossibly fast, her gun was ripped from her hands. Only a quick series of sidesteps prevented her from meeting a metal-plated fist to the gut; a grunt from beside her indicated Henry had not been so quick.
The insane laughter registered in her ears first, and she was looking at a deformed mass that didn’t resemble any species they knew. The experimental drug cartel— was her last thought before a knock to the back of the head lead her to unconsciousness.