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About Traditional Art / Student Member Kait-a-tater-totFemale/United States Group :iconzombiehuntingmadness: ZombieHuntingMadness
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Kait-a-tater-tot
Artist | Student | Traditional Art
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Hello everyone! I'm Kait but feel free to call me "potato".
I really enjoy writing, drawing, cosplaying, and gaming.
Feel free to just message me and we can chat!
Interests
Morning lovlies!
Im not sure if you actually read these but whatever
Now that Otakon is gone and past (boohoo) I shall be getting back to working on my fics!
Starting back up is going to be slower than I thought...
Mainly because I miss my con friends. BUT i digress.
The next update should be for chapter 9 of Constants and Variables.
As for Legendary...
No, I'm not quitting
The next update might take a while, since it is going to be a big project and I'm planning for each chapter to be about...
3k-5k words long.
Also, I want to get Constants to a nice point where I can actively work on a different fic.
BUT, while that's going on.
I have a poll for all my Legendary fans...
Y'know, i'm gonna start calling y'all "Legends".
BUT ANYWHO.
How would you like to see the character redesigns?
(as of now I have planned redesigns for Lilith,Gaige, Maya, Axton, Mordecai, Zer0, Tina, plus two new characters)
A) on one big "reveal" sheet
B) Each redesign is its own post
C) Stop procrastinating Kait.
D) "YOU SHOULD DO A REDESIGN FOR (SO AND SO) please comment who.
  • Mood: Compassion
  • Listening to: 98.5 the peak -eagle screech-
  • Reading: CONSTANTS CHAPTER 9
  • Playing: Borderlands 2 and Bioshock Infinite
  • Eating: Fiber one
  • Drinking: WATERRRR

Activity


Parlor Tricks

It sounds simple enough, run into the creepy as hell toy shop, destroy it, get on to killing Travis, go home and act like this is all a bad dream. Of course, you know well enough that it's not going to be the case. Of course not. With the way this week had been going, you'd be lucky if you could even reach Emporia without some giant animatronic owl trying to decapitate you, the police force knocking down your door, or even the city itself plummeting from the skies.

But so far, things look fairly decent. You are able to leave the hotel premises without being shot at.

As soon as you pass through the front doors, the rest of the Vox scatter to take on their respective missions, and suddenly it's silent. No more jovial laughter of patrons, no children squealing in excitement, no loud music floating through the air, absolute silence. Papers flutter in the breeze, abandoned luggage litters the pathways, and you stare off in the distance. A lone shape on the horizon; it's the last airship, floating away to safety.

"Looks like it's too late to go home now." You laugh bitterly and kick a loose pebble. Booker huffs out a chuckle and begins walking towards an abandoned picnic basket. You follow, curious as to what he is doing.

The ex-Pinkerton flips open the lid and pulls out a bottle of soda. He pops off the cap and downs the drink in a few gulps. You raise a brow in confusion. Booker clenches his fist and you swear you see a spark jump across his hand.

"That should do it." He turns to you and smiles, "Alright, let's go destroy a toy store."

You keep your brow raised and hum in agreement, falling into step behind your companion.


The streets of Columbia are eerily quiet, the only sounds are that of your feet on the pavement, flags flittering in the wind, and the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. Booker continues his lead with his pistol drawn and his finger tense on the trigger. You keep a hand over your knives and scan the area for the umpteenth time for any traces of activity.

"This isn't right…" Booker states, stopping in his tracks, "It shouldn't be this easy."

"AND HOW RIGHT YOU ARE MISTER DEWITT!" Fink's voice crackles over the loudspeaker.

You tense and unsheathe a knife, "Alright Fink, what's goin' on?"

"OH I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED! FOR TODAY AND TODAY ONLY, THE CIRQUE DE LA UTOPIA IS PUTTING ON A SPECIAL PERFORMANCE!"

You look around to see security crawling from the woodwork. You swallow thickly and scoot closer to Booker and tap his arm. He glances around and quickly checks the clip in his pistol.

"Hope you enjoy the show." Fink chuckles as a shot fires in the air.

The security officers all leap to action, some with Billy clubs, others with guns, and a few with launchers. You draw your knives and side your other hand into your Sky-hook, revving it to life. Booker begins firing with deadly accuracy between the eyes of several guards. You charge towards your first target and plunge your fistful of knives into his face, hastily withdrawing and kicking him in the solar plexus as he sputtered out his last breaths. With a flick of the wrist you shake off the excess blood and send your knives speeding into another guard's chest. They stagger back as you lunge forward and smash your hooks into his jugular, rev the mechanism, and end their life in a spray of crimson.

You reach over to collect your knives, only to feel a pair of arms hoist you back from behind.

"Oya, wassa lady doin' tryin' ta fight? I says we teach 'er a lesson." You hear a gun click and press against your temple. You look at Booker, who is decently preoccupied with fighting off ten other men. A cold chill runs down your spine and you swallow thickly. The gun fires, your vision cracks, everything in your head becomes a high-pitched mess of incoherency, but, you aren't dead. Your attacker drops you and staggers back, his hands rubbing his eyes. You stumble forward and turn clumsily on a heel to face him. You leap at him and swing your fist at his jaw, successfully knocking him to the ground.

Regaining your senses, you thrust your foot under his ribs, hearing a muffled crack as he falls unconscious. The other guards all stare at you, their bodies trembling in fear. You smirk and take a step forward, they step back. You twirl a knife in your palm and grin wider. Suddenly the guards are sent flying from a cannon burst, their bodies fly through the air, burning. You look to the side to see your companion awkwardly shouldering one of the launchers.

You sheath your weapons and rub your temple, a slight headache forming, "Well that was…interesting…" a ripple of gold passes in front of your eyes. Booker just stares at you and sighs heavily.

"C'mon…we gotta keep moving." He states and reloads his gun before jogging off with you not far behind.


Making your way to Emporia isn't too hard. Even with the constant waves of guards, you and Booker are able to make quick work of them and continue onwards in a little over an hour. Smaller airships buzz about the skies, some with security, and others with Vox; their red banners trailing through the air. Commands echo all around as the two of you soar across on the Sky-Rail.

The air grows thick as dark storm clouds draw closer, the thunder becomes louder, and you watch as arcs of lighting dance in the distance. You swallow thickly, hoping that you would be out before the storm hit.

With a leap, you land in Emporia. The area looks untouched, brightly coloured string lights illuminate a path towards the toy store, and soft music plays over the chaos in the distance. You and your partner cautiously follow the lights, weapons ready. All the other shops are dark and hopefully abandoned.

"Well this isn't creepy at all." You grumble and walk faster to catch up to Booker. He places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. Your shoulders slacken a little and you huff.

Thud

You both stop.

"(Name)...What was-" The remaining lights in the area all power down and the music stops. The only source of light is the sun hiding behind the cloud cover.

You grab a knife and prepare your Sky-Hook, "I don't like the looks of this..."

Thunder loudly cracks across the sky and you jolt, looks like the storm's here. Rain quickly falls in sheets, obscuring your view. Booker tightly grabs your wrist and presses on forward. The pounding rain drowns out any more sounds.

You stop for a moment, swearing that you heard something else in the distance.

"God, now I'm hearing things." You mentally decide.

Walking for another few minutes, the two of you are abruptly stopped.

In the pouring rain, you can make out the lights of the toyshop a few yards away; Booker drops his hand on your shoulder and draws your attention.

His green eyes scan over your face with concern behind them, his lips purse in thought as he furrows his brow, "(Name)," He mumbles, "are you ready?"

You nod and take the lead, ready for this all to be over. The obnoxiously coloured lights of the shop draw closer and closer as you trudge through the pouring rain. Your cheeks begin to sting from the icy chill and you hug your arms around your torso to try and regain some warmth. Your clothes feel heavy from the downpour and only serve to slow you down more.

The two of you finally reach the storefront. Red light pours out the oversized barred windows, and corpses are posed in the display like macabre dolls. You gag a little and press against the door, wanting to put an end to this quickly.

Inside, the body of the toy maker hangs from the ceiling, his neck and wrists bound like some marionette, fresh blood drips from his corpse onto the floor. From behind, you hear the door slam shut and Booker yelling from outside. You freeze and draw a knife. Your stomach sinks as the stench of death filters into your nose.

A laugh echoes throughout the shop, feet scuffle across the floor, and a gun cocks.

"Tell me dearest. What's black, white, and red all over?" Travis chuckles.

"TRAVIS! COME OUT WHERE I CAN SEE YOU!" You command, getting ready to spring. A shot fires in front of your toes and you leap back.

"Wrong answer~" He coos before scuttling off again. You pace slowly around, trying to exploit his hiding spot. You heart hammers in your chest. You've fallen right into his hands, just like before. The room falls eerily silent and you feel your throat tighten in fear. You've come too far for everything to fall apart now.

Another shot whizzes past your ear and you feel the hot sensation of the cartilage bleeding. You grit your teeth and dart your eyes around, still looking for any sign of the bastard.

Feet scuffle again and you run to a wall, hoping that maybe you could hide for a moment. You press flat against the wall and exhale sharply.

"What's wrong dearest? Drowning again?" You hear him leap from his spot with a grunt.

Travis lands in front of you, and with lightning fast reflexes, you swing your arm and release a knife. He falls with a heavy thump and you smile wickedly.

Travis Dempsey is no more.

The front door suddenly unlocks and you hear Booker run in, he pulls you in for a quick hug then releases you to investigate the scene. You stare at the body on the floor, the dull red light washing over his lifeless face.

"Yes! YES! I DID IT!" You cheer. The room suddenly floods with white light and your cheers turn into a scream of rage. On the floor was a sparking, twitching, motorized mannequin, its face sculpted to look like your ex's. In a fit of anger, you kick the contraption, sending its head flying. Booker sighs and slumps his shoulders.

"Did you like that trick? I hope so. Because you'll really love this one." The con man's voice laughs.

You hear several latches click and the door locks again, a long metallic hiss resonates as steam fills the room. Gears rattle and engines start up. You swallow thickly as the back wall of the shop parts with a cloud of vapor. In the mist, eight pairs of glowing eyes hover six feet in the air, unblinking and unmoving.

"Well shit." Booker exhales.

Constants and Variables Chapter 13
Here ya are, some nice action and progression.
I've been having a bit of a tough time lately, trying to keep my motivation up
((Seems like a common thing when the story starts to come to a close))
But hopefully I will be able to update one or twice a month.

Also , a little life update. I'm going to be picking up more work, so my schedule is going to be a bit tighter, but I promise that all current fics
1. Constants and Variables
2. Legendary
3. Parallels
Are not to be abandoned.
However
No White Flags
Under the Tides
The Overlooked
Dress Classy
May not be on regular update.

I really hope you all are enjoying this series and continue to be awesome.
-see ya later sweet potaters

Table of Contents
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Keeping Up

Your eyes slowly flutter open as sunlight filters into the room. A yawn escapes your lips and you inhale the scent that you have grown to love. You shuffle slightly and tighten your arms around Booker, humming pleasantly to yourself. A hand slides its way through your hair and you smile.

"Morning." You coo and untwine your legs from his. The ex-investigator opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off.

"Well I hope you're happy." Rosalind snaps at the both of you from a chair across the room.

"Oh I know I am." Robert chuckles as he enters with two cups of tea, one of which he hands to his sister.

"Hush you" The female Lutece scolds then turns back to face you, "You were supposed to handle this civilly and quietly, not like savages. Such an undesirable outcome."

This only serves for Robert to laugh louder, "Ah, but what if violence is just another constant in our equation? That only means the final outcome shall be even more unpredictable."

The twins begin to rattle off about topics that boggle the mind. You look up at Booker who is just staring fairly agitated at the two physicists with his lips in a tight line.

Another moment of awkward witnessing passes before the ex-Pinkerton clears his throat, "If the two of you are done arguing about the situation, I would like to get up and actually get on with the day."

The Luteces look back at Booker and sigh in unison, shaking their heads before exiting. Your partner looks over at you as he begins to scoot from under the sheets, "I suggest you get ready too" he sighs and begins to collect his clothes off of the floor. You nod and grab your knives from the nightstand.

With some mental preparation, you stagger out to your own room.


The locks on your suitcase unlatch loudly and the lid flies open, clothing spills over the edges and you begin pulling out something…combat appropriate.

"I was hoping I wouldn't need to bring this out." You huff and unfold the dusty split riding skirt from the bottom of the case. Next is a white top with no sleeves. You had cut and tailored the sleeves off years ago for better movement with your knives. Then your corset, and finally a brown leather vest. It had become a habit of yours—well more like a paranoia- to always take your old gear with you.

With a heaving sigh you button up your shirt. Images of bloodshed flash in your mind. You shudder and move to the corset.

Nimble fingers latch the hooks in front together and trace over various slash marks in the sturdy material as they advance to the laces in the back. This thing had kept you from your fair share of fatal wounds, except for the one time you needed it most. You grunt as you tighten the strong laces and straighten your back. The sound of mad laughter erupts in your thoughts as you reach for the riding skirt.

You tug the fabric up and over your hips, fastening the buttons on the top. With a few swipes of the hands, you dust off the loose black fabric. Another deep sigh passes from you. You shrug the vest over your torso and slowly slip each button into its place. The worn cracks in the leather bend to your every move and the subtle scent of oil brings back memories of years before.

"This'll be the last time." You swear as you rummage through the suitcase, slightly panicking when you can't find your belt, "Oh, come off it…"

A soft thud next to you draws your attention.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you hadn't lost your mind yet with those organizational skills." Rosalind huffs and lays out a thick belt and your skyhook. You glare daggers at the woman, not wanting to put up with her ramblings again.

"You can still go back you know" She softens, "The last airships heading to the coast are docking now, you don't have to fight."

"I'm not leaving Booker here all on his own. He'll die without my help." You snap back and begin tightening the belt around your waist. A soft sigh resounds to your ears, the female Lutece stares sorrowfully at you, like a mother bearing bad news to her child.

"Then, from here on out, not even my brother and I will be able to tell what's going to happen."

"All the constants have added up, now it's time for the variable" Robert chimes in with a large beaker full of some luminescent yellow liquid, "here; a parting gift." He holds out the beaker and you take it, eyeing it up questionably.

"What do I…What is it?" You ask, uncorking it. The liquid smells almost... sweet.

"Just some added protection, drink it. All in one go would be best."

Against all better judgment, you obey the male and take a hefty swig of the fluid.

Suddenly your vision blurs, reality seems to crack apart with golden streaks, and you cough and gasp as your body feels like it's on fire. It sure as hell didn't taste as sweet as it smelled.

When you finally regain your senses, the twins have left, and you feel the weight of the situation fall onto your shoulders. You take hold of your knives and place them into the holsters on your belt, easy to access. Then you dangle the skyhook from your other side. You take your personal first aid kit and manage to attach it to the back of your belt.

With a huff, you balance on the balls of your feet and shuffle about, making sure your set up wouldn't hinder you in any way. Thankfully, it doesn't and you take one long look at your room, fairly sure this will be the last time you ever see it.


You walk out into the main room. Booker slings a carbine over his shoulder and glances back to face you.

"We're going to see Daisy first, get some answers, and find out just who we're up against."

There's a knock at the door, "DeWitt, I know ya in there."

"Or it looks like Daisy's coming to meet us. Odd." He paces to the door and slowly pulls it open, a small hoard of Vox rush in.

Fitzroy glances over the two of you, her face lined with distress, "They're pullin' out all the stops."

Both you and Booker look at the Vox leader with extreme confusion.

"Alright, what is going on? No more of this shady business." The ex-investigator sternly asks.

Daisy sighs and runs a hand through her braids, "I was up here when Columbia first started out. I served as an assistant to the original four founders. They made this place a true utopia. People of all colors, sexes, ages, they had fun up here. There was another assistant, Jeremiah Fink, he was an inventor, an engineer of sorts. He didn't agree with the founders…"

The look in Daisy's eyes grow distant as if she's reliving the experience, "One day though, the founders just…vanished. Not killed, but…vanished. So I did what any good assistant does, I went a-lookin'. And…and what I found. Fink had to have been workin' behind their back's…He hired another man, a toymaker, to create monsters."

"And these monsters…are the…founders?" You imply.

"Not yet. My spies say that they haven't completed the process yet. That the founders just stumble around in the suits."

"And let me guess, everything is all segregated now because Fink, blamed you and probably every non-white person up here…" Booker mumble, wiping away a trail of blood from his nose.

"Perceptive aren't you?" Daisy half-laughs.

"You could say that."

A moment of uncomfortable silence passes as the Vox leader pulls out a map of Columbia, "Our first goal is to stop the monsters from being created, to save the founders, once that's done it's onto Fink and his flunkies."

You glance over the marks on the map, ignoring the what Daisy says, trying to mentally envision the easiest route. A thought resurfaces and you take a step back. Taking this on means that you will eventually have to face Travis. And after what happened back at the big top, you were fairly certain he'd pull out all the stops. He was careless that way.

"Is it too late to head back?" You mentally ask and glance over at Booker who places a hand on your back as if to say 'It's going to be alright'. The two of you share a look.

"-And that leads us to the last False Founder, Booker and (Name)?" The Vox leader grabs your attention, "Can you handle the last one? He's a bit of a tough one, smooth talker too. Wouldn't be surprised if he tried to weasel out of his demise."

"Just tell us who we're going after." Your partner states.

Daisy holds out a photo, your eyes widen.

"Of course." You groan mentally, "It just has to be Travis."

Constants and Variables Chapter 12
As promised, chapter 12! It's a little short. But don't fret! The rest of the story is gonna be nothin' but ass-kickin' sweetness! I hope you all enjoy and know that you all are so awesome to stick through the thick and thin of this!
Hahahah Lutece's return for another sass-attack. Also, like I said last chapter! This is now actually top priority, so hopefully that means I can put out a chapter every two weeks. That's my goal, consistent updates! So yes! I hope you all enjoyed and stick through until the exciting conclusion.

See ya later, Sweet Potaters~

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Interrogation

Sarah strode proudly down the hall; she knew exactly what she had done, and she was damn proud of it. Four MPs stoically escorted her towards the room at the end of the metal hall. She took in what was probably to be her last view of this hall, ah yes, steel walls, steel floors, slits for windows, really homey. To the left a prisoner of war was being questioned behind a slightly ajar door. To the right a steel plate had some serial number etched on it.

Honestly Sarah thought that she had walked down this hall the last time only a year ago, when she had discharged and divorced her Staff Sergeant. In front of her the interrogation room door grew closer and closer. The Major looked down at her bound wrists, a smile still on her lips as the door unlatched.  Within was the Brigadier General, he sat at the cold steel table, his expression was unreadable.

“Sit.” He ordered. Sarah obeyed, “Major Hoolihan, do you know why you’re here today?”

“Yes sir.” She replied calmly.

“Then explain to me why in the hell you detonated a bomb on one of your own men?” The Brigadier General demanded.

The Major fell silent for a moment; she blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face before mustering up the most stone-cold serious expression.

She opened her mouth and spoke clearly, “Justice.”

“Excuse me? Justice? Sparing an AWOL soldier’s life by murdering an innocent sergeant is justice?”

“Yes.”

Silence once more.

Sarah smiled brightly as the higher up in front of her just stared in disbelief. For all the years she had been serving, Sarah was never one to step out of line, not once did she ever disobey, nor did she ever break a curfew.

Even though she was certain she was to be executed for her sudden treason, Sarah was still proud. She had been born and raised with a strong sense of justice--product of both her parents having served in the Dahl Army no doubt--and detonating Sergeant Jarter was the most justice she had, and probably would, ever serve. Her reason as to why this was justice instead of murder was because of one person.

Axton

Suddenly the Brigadier General motioned for an MP, and whispered something to the soldier. Then he looked at the Major, his eyes flickering a regret for what he was about to do.

"Alright, that's all I need to hear, in two days we'll hold a trial. Then, once they find you guilty, you will be executed by firing squad." He rose from his seat and paced over to the door.

"I would have it no other way." Sarah almost laughed, catching her higher up off guard as he exited. The same two MPs escorted the Major out of the room and back down the hall.

As she was escorted through the base, Sarah could feel the burning disdainful hate from the other officers, but it didn't faze her, what was done was over and she still had no regrets.  Eyes followed the Major, judging her every move. The buzzing whispers floating through the air didn't bother Sarah one bit as the heavy steel door leading to the base prison slid open.

Angry shouts from the other prisoners were ignored as Sarah stepped into her cell.

"You were the best." One MP complemented a last time before leaving.

Sarah laid down on the ice cold cot and mindlessly plucked at the obnoxious yellow jumpsuit she was in. Memories that she had long repressed began to resurface into her consciousness.

It was...Eleven years ago.



"Now Captain Hoolihan, we have some new recruits coming in. Try not to have them piss themselves." Her commanding officer laughed. Sarah saluted and smiled.

"I'll try my best not to sir." Sarah marched out of the office and onto the training field where a ship of new recruits was loading off. The Captain observed them.

The new men and women seemed decent enough; definitely had potential she noted. As the recruits lined up Sarah noticed a few gaps in the setup. Tightening her jaw, Sarah paced over to the line and began looking over her new watches. A girlish giggle from a few yards away caught her attention. The Captain glanced back over at the ship where a young man and woman were chatting.

"FALL INTO LINE RECRUITS!" She barked, startling the girl, and sending her running back into the line, "YOU TOO BOY!" But the man didn't move. Not even five minutes in and there was already someone trying her patience. Sarah stormed up to the recruit, taking in his features and how she would most likely be taking him down. He winced and turned towards her with a smug grin.

"Now, is there a problem with your legs recruit?" Sarah asked with venom in her tone, but the man just kept his eyes on her and remained silent.

"Speak already! Are you dumb?"

He raised his hands in submission, "Ah sorry sorry. They told me I'd be dealing with the toughest captain in the corps, not a beautiful dame like yourself. Name's Axton Haynes"

Sarah's felt a slight blush rise on her cheeks, but kept her straight face as she swung her fist in a harsh right hook to the recruit's jaw, sending him sprawling to the dirt. He didn't move, and Sarah realized what she had just done.

"Someone help me get this unconscious asshat to the infirmary..."



It all started because she wanted to punch the smug look off his face, and she did. Sarah laughed to herself and tucked her hands behind her head as the guards shut off the lights in the block, signaling it was time for everyone to sleep. The Major exhaled slowly and shut her eyes, ignoring the profanity screaming inmates, and fell asleep, more memories hazing into her dreams.



"Aren't you going to apologize?" Axton huffed as he strolled up to Sarah in the mess hall.

The Captain lowered her fork and looked up through her eyelashes with the most venomous glare she could give, "Ask again recruit."

"Aren't you going to apologize for knocking me out, Captain." Oh he sounded pissed. Good.

Sarah shrugged and resumed her rationed meal, ignoring her subordinate. Axton gave a disgruntled sigh before plopping himself down right in front of her.

"Go get dinner recruit." She exhaled and took a sip of water.

"No. Not until you apologize." He persisted.

"That's an order. And do I need to remind you what happens when you disrespect orders?" Sarah tightened her fist around her fork, and smiled as Axton flinched slightly. The recruit rose from his seat and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, leaving to the dinner line.

For months, Axton kept up the same routine. Every night at dinner he would sit down across from Sarah and request for an apology. Each time Sarah would ignore him and point to the line for food. It was silly and childish, but somehow refreshing for the Captain to have someone break the monotony. She didn’t really notice how much she enjoyed the recruit’s company until one day he wasn’t there for whatever reason.



“GET DOWN! EVERYONE GET DOWN!” Sarah ordered during a combat drill, her battalion fell to the dust and went absolutely silent. The Captain smiled and paced around, pleased with her troops.

“Alright, get up and hit the showers.” She motioned everyone to rise. In perfect sync, the soldiers jumped from the dirt and jogged off. Sarah smiled to herself once more and began writing down her final report notes. Her dark brown eyes scanned down the scratchy words and sighed heavily, she was in for a long night of typing up progress reports.

From behind, the Captain heard footfalls pace up to her.

"Ma'am." Axton saluted and Sarah slowly turned on a heel.

"What is it private?" She lowered her clipboard and stared at the man. His shirt clung damply to his toned chest and droplets of water rolled from his short hair. Did he even bother to dry off?

"Aren't you going to head over to the mess tent ma'am? It's getting pretty late." He sounded honestly concerned.

"After I type up these reports, it shouldn't be too long."

"Uh...A-alright." the Private coughed and ran a hand through his drying locks.

"Is that all?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Axton saluted again and sprinted off towards the large tent. Sarah huffed and walked in the opposite direction to her office. Her thoughts automatically began to run analysis's on each of her soldiers, bringing up points of strengths and weakness. Like how Jones needed to pick up his feet a little more, how Bonne-Foi was adept with sniper rifles, Carriedo could run far and fast, and how Haynes was making great improvement in his attitude.

Sarah stopped in her tracks for a moment and snickered. She could still recall the day she slugged Axton hard across the jaw, then resumed her trek.



Papers littered the desk as Sarah glanced back and forth from her references, attempting to put together a coherent report. She was on page twenty, and not even halfway done. As she typed , pain ebbed in her stomach, begging for food. But the Captain knew that the moment she left her keyboard, she would probably never return. So she worked through the gnawing hunger, ignoring the ferocious growls.

Suddenly, she grew nauseous. Sarah threw a hand up to her lips and heaved a little. Maybe food was a good idea after all.

Knock knock

Or maybe another officer wants to keep her from working and eating. The Captain rose from her seat shakily and opened the door to her office.

"How can I--Oh...What are you doing here Private Haynes?"

Axton saluted and Sarah waved it off. The Private held out a tray of potatoes, beans, and some sort of meat-like substance. In the other hand was a mug of coffee, obviously stolen from the officer's lounge, and tucked under his arm was another bag. The Captain gratefully took the offer and cleared a spot off on her desk then set down the food. Axton placed the mug of coffee next to the tray then pulled the bag from under his arm.

"Here's some water and extra snacks ma'am, you didn't come down for dinner so...I thought you could use this." Axton rubbed the back of his neck and flashed  a crooked smile, "Don't forget to take care of yourself too ma'am, can't be the toughest Captain on an empty stomach."

Sarah felt her cheeks heat up again and she smiled, "Thank you Private, now, go back to your bunk."

Axton saluted again, "Ma'am, yes ma'am." He exited and closed the door on his way out.

The Captain instantly dove into her food, not realizing how hungry she had been.  She scorched her tongue on the bitter coffee, but didn't care. Maybe now she could finish the report on time.

"Thank you Axton." Sarah mumbled as she resumed her work.

No White Flags Chapter 1
How did Sarah and Axton meet?
What really happened between them?
And what's going to happen?

MEGA UPDATE
NEW MINI-FIC
HYPE.
READ. RATE. REVIEW
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SuriFox1 Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2014  Hobbyist
Yooooo :D
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:iconwhite-wolf-terra:
White-Wolf-Terra Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
yo
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:iconsurifox1:
SuriFox1 Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2014  Hobbyist
Sup?
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:iconwhite-wolf-terra:
White-Wolf-Terra Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
worked out. drawin axton. eatin chicken
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(1 Reply)
:iconsurifox1:
SuriFox1 Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2014  Hobbyist
heyoh :D
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:iconwhite-wolf-terra:
White-Wolf-Terra Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
heyoooooooooo
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:iconsurifox1:
SuriFox1 Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2014  Hobbyist
Whazzup?
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:iconwhite-wolf-terra:
White-Wolf-Terra Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
makin gaige
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(1 Reply)
:iconsurifox1:
SuriFox1 Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2014  Hobbyist
Haha, what? You can do what?
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:iconwhite-wolf-terra:
White-Wolf-Terra Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
make this harness!
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