[The Guardian who had done the deed has been instructed to deliver this to Franky's house, though who knows if that means it'll be slipped under her door or handed over in person. Either way, the letter is on a single piece of paper folded several times, with Franky written on its outermost fold.]
I'm writing this before I know who's delivering it or how it's going to be delivered, and mostly I'm just hoping it doesn't end up thrown in the gutter. If I pick right and it reaches your hands, I'm hoping they'll give you a little warning ahead of time too, but I guess beggars can't be choosers.
By the time you read this, I'll be dead. I was bitten while hunting this morning, so I turned myself in to your people. Don't worry about who's telling the boys, I'm getting letters to them too.
I know you know that I have people in other places. I never asked because I figured it wasn't my business (and also, who wants to hear about their lover's other lovers?), but I always assumed you have other people here in Seattle. But now that this is the end, I figure I should tell you that you've been really great. And of all my calls in all my ports, you're kind of my favorite. I guess that's the kind of thing that I should have said in person, but I didn't want to risk making it weird. Sometimes stuff is better of unsaid until one of the people involved is already dead.
Take care of yourself, Franky. Thanks for all the good times. And keep kicking zombie ass.
Harkin is prompt in his delivery, taking it by after the end of his shift. He doesn't want the letter to get lost or stuck in a pile, only to be forgotten.
Standing at the door, he takes a slow breath before rapping three times.
She's in the middle of the paperwork when he arrives. The moment he's in the door, she knows exactly what it is. She takes it, calmly enough. And in the moment, she becomes lost - not even thinking to dismiss him before she reads it.
They'd never talked, had they? No, it hadn't been...the time had never been... What had been the point, when death hung over them every day? Though the truth was that there hadn't been anyone else, for her. She liked to tell herself it was that she was just un-trusting, but in truth, it just wasn't her nature.
Sameen had been the only one. The only escape from... The only one who...
And now she was gone. Another stupid, pointless death, because leadership of the Guardians didn't even try to maintain control outside the walls. Because they had no imagination, no fire, no drive. She could have cleared the lands surrounding Seattle and patrolled them with a few hundred soldiers - which she'd told them.
We don't have the guns for it, and besides, if we conscripted that many the underground would have a field day.
The damned fools. The infected could be handled better by goddamned pikemen - a handful of rifles and a few hundred pikemen and she could clear to the freshwater at Chelan, reclaim Olympia and its port...
And Sameen was dead. The one bright spot in her life, the one beautiful thing. A good person, who did good things. And it was pointless. Meaningless. The world kept spinning, but in her grief...
Sameen would be the last. No more of this, no more lack of vision. No more lack of direction. And if the Underground screamed, then let them. There were ways to deal with them, too, if they couldn't be made to see.
Time for a coup. She had the officers on her side. The leadership council hardly minted loyalty. It was just a matter of planning, wasn't it?
She sighed, the only outward sign of any of this a twitch at her eye, a tightening of one of her hands. Pas devant le gendarme, right? Never let them see you bleed.
She looked up at Harkin, and nodded.
"You've discharged your duty," she said, a bit thickly. "You'll understand if I don't thank you. Dismissed."
And she'll wait until he's out of the door to weep.
There's no way Harkin could have deduced that something addressed with the familiarity of 'Franky' could ever refer to the Colonel, so when he finds himself facing her, his body tenses at attention. He stands there frozen until dismissed. Her words are answered with a tight nod.
Strange Appetites breach
I'm writing this before I know who's delivering it or how it's going to be delivered, and mostly I'm just hoping it doesn't end up thrown in the gutter. If I pick right and it reaches your hands, I'm hoping they'll give you a little warning ahead of time too, but I guess beggars can't be choosers.
By the time you read this, I'll be dead. I was bitten while hunting this morning, so I turned myself in to your people. Don't worry about who's telling the boys, I'm getting letters to them too.
I know you know that I have people in other places. I never asked because I figured it wasn't my business (and also, who wants to hear about their lover's other lovers?), but I always assumed you have other people here in Seattle. But now that this is the end, I figure I should tell you that you've been really great. And of all my calls in all my ports, you're kind of my favorite. I guess that's the kind of thing that I should have said in person, but I didn't want to risk making it weird. Sometimes stuff is better of unsaid until one of the people involved is already dead.
Take care of yourself, Franky. Thanks for all the good times. And keep kicking zombie ass.
Sameen
Re: Strange Appetites breach
Standing at the door, he takes a slow breath before rapping three times.
Notifications are never easy.
no subject
They'd never talked, had they? No, it hadn't been...the time had never been... What had been the point, when death hung over them every day? Though the truth was that there hadn't been anyone else, for her. She liked to tell herself it was that she was just un-trusting, but in truth, it just wasn't her nature.
Sameen had been the only one. The only escape from... The only one who...
And now she was gone. Another stupid, pointless death, because leadership of the Guardians didn't even try to maintain control outside the walls. Because they had no imagination, no fire, no drive. She could have cleared the lands surrounding Seattle and patrolled them with a few hundred soldiers - which she'd told them.
We don't have the guns for it, and besides, if we conscripted that many the underground would have a field day.
The damned fools. The infected could be handled better by goddamned pikemen - a handful of rifles and a few hundred pikemen and she could clear to the freshwater at Chelan, reclaim Olympia and its port...
And Sameen was dead. The one bright spot in her life, the one beautiful thing. A good person, who did good things. And it was pointless. Meaningless. The world kept spinning, but in her grief...
Sameen would be the last. No more of this, no more lack of vision. No more lack of direction. And if the Underground screamed, then let them. There were ways to deal with them, too, if they couldn't be made to see.
Time for a coup. She had the officers on her side. The leadership council hardly minted loyalty. It was just a matter of planning, wasn't it?
She sighed, the only outward sign of any of this a twitch at her eye, a tightening of one of her hands. Pas devant le gendarme, right? Never let them see you bleed.
She looked up at Harkin, and nodded.
"You've discharged your duty," she said, a bit thickly. "You'll understand if I don't thank you. Dismissed."
And she'll wait until he's out of the door to weep.
no subject
"Yes, ma'am."
He swivels on his heel and promptly fucks off.