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Fic: Soup's On!
Title: Soup's On!
Author: Erin (erinm_4600@yahoo.com)
Characters, Pairing: Zero and some random Longcoats (mention of Azkadellia)
Rating: G
Summary: Zero and the Longcoats have dinner. *written for Round One of the Grand Prix at tm_challenge.
Warning: pre-series.
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
Dusk was approaching as Zero moved through the Longcoat camp. There were thirty men in the camp, and another twenty holding positions along the perimeter. He stepped between the bedrolls and campfires, noting the older men, sitting on their own, lost in thought; and catching murmurings from some of the younger soldiers.
It was always the younger ones who had high hopes for their military careers, of delusions as to just what they would be experiencing after volunteering to serve. Most of these boys - that was what they were, Zero noted, boys - were just out of diapers when Azkadellia took control of the Outer Zone from her mother.
Zero did have to shake his head as the people of the Zone didn't even argue the regime change. The inner turmoil of the royal family didn't affect their lives and, as long as they still had food on their tables and clothes on their back, why should they be concerned?
It was only after Azkadellia began searching for the emerald that even he noticed a change in her. Granted, as a subordinate, he would never say anything to that point. Still, she had always been cool and calculating, he mused. But suddenly she was driven to find a stupid little rock.
There had been rumblings within Central City of a group of rebellious individuals who were out to return the Queen to the throne. He'd even heard the word possessed once, but imaginations could come up with some rather creative excuses when they'd had enough time to think about it.
Deciding that the camp wouldn't fall into chaos if he took the chance to have some dinner, Zero moved over to where the camp cook was serving up plates to the hungry soldiers. He didn't even look at the old man as the plate was handed over, nor did he look at what would soon be the contents of his stomach.
He didn't have to, as the menu hadn't changed in the ten annuals since he'd joined the regiment.
He moved past a group of young men and sat alone. He sighed heavily as he stared into the smoldering mass of logs and twigs in front of him, waiting for a flare.
"Zero," he heard, causing him to straighten and look up to the face of an older man. They'd served together for years now and were probably the only men each other trusted within the camp. Zero nodded to him and leaned forward as the man passed a cup across the campfire. As the other man sat and nursed his own cup while staring at the fire, Zero poked at his plate with a fork.
"I'm just saying that my grandmother could make Muglug to put this swill to shame," they heard one of the younger soldiers say. Both looked up to see two young men glancing at the open seats between Zero and the other man. Both nodded to the space and the young men sat.
"Just be happy it's warm," Zero said before stabbing at the plate again. "There's nothing worse than this stuff cold," he said as he finished chewing on one of the chunks. He thought back to the month he spent in the north, just after Azkadellia was sure the emerald was at the palace on the Northern Island. There was nothing the cook could do - no matter how many times the man stoked the fire, the soup was cold the moment it left the pot.
The young men looked from Zero to the other man, who nodded, and back to their own plates. The three men cleared their plates in silence. For whatever reason, Zero's mind wandered to his mother and all the nights while he was growing up that she put a bowl of soup in front of him. He never could stand the stuff.
And, as soon as he joined the Longcoats, one of his first thoughts was that he would be free of the concoction. However, it seemed that the nutritional value of the combined ingredients of Muglug were exactly what a soldier needed for nourishment in the face of battle.
It could be worse, he guessed, glancing up to the iron suit sitting in the back of one of the trucks.
Author: Erin (erinm_4600@yahoo.com)
Characters, Pairing: Zero and some random Longcoats (mention of Azkadellia)
Rating: G
Summary: Zero and the Longcoats have dinner. *written for Round One of the Grand Prix at tm_challenge.
Warning: pre-series.
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
Dusk was approaching as Zero moved through the Longcoat camp. There were thirty men in the camp, and another twenty holding positions along the perimeter. He stepped between the bedrolls and campfires, noting the older men, sitting on their own, lost in thought; and catching murmurings from some of the younger soldiers.
It was always the younger ones who had high hopes for their military careers, of delusions as to just what they would be experiencing after volunteering to serve. Most of these boys - that was what they were, Zero noted, boys - were just out of diapers when Azkadellia took control of the Outer Zone from her mother.
Zero did have to shake his head as the people of the Zone didn't even argue the regime change. The inner turmoil of the royal family didn't affect their lives and, as long as they still had food on their tables and clothes on their back, why should they be concerned?
It was only after Azkadellia began searching for the emerald that even he noticed a change in her. Granted, as a subordinate, he would never say anything to that point. Still, she had always been cool and calculating, he mused. But suddenly she was driven to find a stupid little rock.
There had been rumblings within Central City of a group of rebellious individuals who were out to return the Queen to the throne. He'd even heard the word possessed once, but imaginations could come up with some rather creative excuses when they'd had enough time to think about it.
Deciding that the camp wouldn't fall into chaos if he took the chance to have some dinner, Zero moved over to where the camp cook was serving up plates to the hungry soldiers. He didn't even look at the old man as the plate was handed over, nor did he look at what would soon be the contents of his stomach.
He didn't have to, as the menu hadn't changed in the ten annuals since he'd joined the regiment.
He moved past a group of young men and sat alone. He sighed heavily as he stared into the smoldering mass of logs and twigs in front of him, waiting for a flare.
"Zero," he heard, causing him to straighten and look up to the face of an older man. They'd served together for years now and were probably the only men each other trusted within the camp. Zero nodded to him and leaned forward as the man passed a cup across the campfire. As the other man sat and nursed his own cup while staring at the fire, Zero poked at his plate with a fork.
"I'm just saying that my grandmother could make Muglug to put this swill to shame," they heard one of the younger soldiers say. Both looked up to see two young men glancing at the open seats between Zero and the other man. Both nodded to the space and the young men sat.
"Just be happy it's warm," Zero said before stabbing at the plate again. "There's nothing worse than this stuff cold," he said as he finished chewing on one of the chunks. He thought back to the month he spent in the north, just after Azkadellia was sure the emerald was at the palace on the Northern Island. There was nothing the cook could do - no matter how many times the man stoked the fire, the soup was cold the moment it left the pot.
The young men looked from Zero to the other man, who nodded, and back to their own plates. The three men cleared their plates in silence. For whatever reason, Zero's mind wandered to his mother and all the nights while he was growing up that she put a bowl of soup in front of him. He never could stand the stuff.
And, as soon as he joined the Longcoats, one of his first thoughts was that he would be free of the concoction. However, it seemed that the nutritional value of the combined ingredients of Muglug were exactly what a soldier needed for nourishment in the face of battle.
It could be worse, he guessed, glancing up to the iron suit sitting in the back of one of the trucks.