A/N: Aah, another installment in the Fantasy Club series! This one, much to my dismay now, is angsty. In other words it rots. But read it anyway! It uses characters from Les Mis...please?
And on that note, I don't down Les Amis. So there.
Elements:
~puppets
~spies
~fish
~fencing
~eyeballs
~tumor
~messy writing
~vampires
~revolution
~deviled eggs
~a dragon that doesn't die
The year is 2832. The sun is broiling the hard, dry land, and its rays penetrate all that live.
There are two of us: the undead and the living dead. We are living but barely.
My name is Jehan, and I am a spy for the New Republic of Solad. My job is to spy on the opposite side, the vampires, the undead. I didn't pick the job, but I can't say I hate it. Being part of the N. R. A. is the only thing that's kept me from starving for the past 13 years.
It is the day of the rebellion from our undead dictators of the Old Republic. We sit and eat our daily ration, hoping it won't be our last.
"Nervous?"
I look up. It's my old friend, my brother Combeferre. He sits down on the makeshift blanket where I lie, picking at my deviled eggs rather sorrowfully.
"Yes, surprisingly," I reply, watching him eat his ration of fish. How he can eat on such a day is beyond me.
"You have been trained for all your life, and now you decide you cannot go through with the mission?" he asks.
"Well, they have acquired a dragon since the last scurmish."
"Immortal?"
"Unfortunately."
"Well, I know you can do it." He leaves, a note dropping to the ground in his messy handwriting I've known for so long. I pick it up. It's to me. He says his goodbyes, considering I am still alive, and he is not. A single thought pops into my head:
Thank you so much for the encouragement...
~~~~~~~~~~
My head hurts. My chest hurts. My whole body hurts.
I lay dieing in the shadow of the hot sun. The rebellion had been stopped when a certain someone tipped off the vampires: my brother! My beloved Combeferre sent me to my grave as the vampires came at me with their fangs bared and sabres at the ready. I never stood a chance.
I now understand I was only a pawn. A puppet.
My eyes hurt. Why do my eyes hurt? O well. The sun must be getting to me...
I die in my mess of blood, and the sun still rages on.
Fin
A/N: See? Wasn't that just awful?
