Wordcount: 451 words
Summary: Time for the Good Guys to be a little Bad.
NOTE: This is the first draft of a story, so it will most likely contain plot holes, retcons, and other inconsistencies. I’ll come back and fix things once the story (or arc) is complete!
We Have a Plan
“That’s not very honorable.” Flame said, eyeing May with some alarm.
“I am sure future generations will forgive me,” May said, handing the next of the letters to the next kid to deliver. “And if not, I’ll take solace from the fact that we saved the world—even if nobody appreciated it.”
“You’re basing all of this on a dream.” He pointed out. “The further away we get from the wastes the less I am inclined to believe the hallucinations.”
“They were not hallucinations,” Baron objected tiredly. “Hallucinations go away.”
There was a spark there still, dancing in the corner of his mind and May could feel it. The fire that never died, never stopped feeding. Baron was feeding it, slowly, but she worried what would happen when he had no more to give. For the moment he seemed fine, if he ate a little more than usual, no one noticed.
“I am just not sure using that as a foundation for an attack is a good idea. What if this just makes things worse?” Flame objected.
“Well, I can’t think of anything else to try.” May said. “And we’ve been gone a month and nothing’s gotten better so I am guessing no one else has any ideas either.”
“Omen might.” Flame pointed out.
“I don’t trust Omen.” Baron said
“You never did.” May pointed out mildly. “But you’re right; I don’t trust him to come up with anything better. He’s too focused sometimes; he’ll drill down on the fact that the Oracle did not give us back our future trees and be useless for anything else.”
“But he’s more powerful that we are,” Flame said. “He could, I don’t know, do something so that we could win.”
“Do you really want him doing that?” May paused, “He could, I guess, there are more ways to use a shield than just defend… but I don’t like the thought.”
“He’s a golden.” Flame said, as if that bought him automatic forgiveness.
“I don’t want to be remembered for winning a war that way.” May shuddered.
“You won’t be remembered anyway,” said Flame, “he’s not Mayshawk this time, he’s his own thing and he’ll have his own legends.”
“I hope so,” May said, “I’d rather not be held accountable for the war.”
“This is a good plan.” Said Baron, bringing the conversation back around. “If it does not work, then we can go back to Omen, but for now let’s just be dishonorable.”
May handed off the last of the letters and sat back. “I hope this works; we may be dead if it does not.”
“He’s too honorable for that,” said Flame, dismissively.
“Well, let’s hope he’s not too honorable to surrender.”