The Green Room

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2008) No infringement upon the rightful owners of "Combat!" and the characters thereof, is intended. Any resemblance between real people and the characters in this story is purely coincidental and no insult is intended. This piece of fan fiction is for enjoyment only, and in no way will the author gain monetary profit from its existence.

  

"Dead Man Five"

by White Queen

 

 

Brockmeyer shouldered open the front door to the Green Room and dropped a dead body on the couch.  "This'd better stop soon," he told the empty room.

Hanley entered from the kitchen.  "What'd better stop soon?"  He spotted the body and said, "Oh.  Another one?"

"Yeah."  Brockmeyer stepped back to let the lieutenant get a better view of the latest victim.

"What's this, number four?"

"Five, sir.  And it's a general this time."  Brockmeyer pointed to the twin stars on the corpse's collar.

"You're right, this has to end."  Hanley crossed his arms and glared at the dead general as if it was his fault he lay there on the couch.  "How'd this one die?"

"Three bullets, all through the heart."

"Where'd you find him?"

"Out behind the stables."

Hanley sighed.  "You'd think she'd be a little more discreet."

"You know how she is, sir."

Saunders appeared in the doorway to the barracks.  "No, he doesn't."  He glanced at the dead body.  "Number five?"

Hanley and Brockmeyer both nodded. 

"Want me to have a talk with her?"

Hanley frowned.  "As I recall, the last time you had a talk with her...."

Saunders shrugged.  "It's not my fault she decided to give me another scene.  You've still got most of the story."

"Yeah, but now you get more action than I do."

Brockmeyer muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "He always has."

"I heard that!" Hanley snapped.  "I meant more action scenes."

"Fine," Saunders said.  "You call her in here and we'll both talk to her."

"Fine."  Hanley told Brockmeyer, "Corporal, get White Queen on the wire."

"Right."  Brockmeyer walked over to the radio standing on a small table next to the gun cabinet.  He cranked it up, picked up the receiver, and said, "King Two to White Queen, King Two to White Queen.  Come in, White Queen.  Over."

Nothing but static answered him.  So he tried again.  And again.  And again.

After the eighth try, Saunders looked at Hanley and raised an eyebrow.  "May I?"

Hanley's only response was a glare.

Saunders sauntered over to the radio, took the receiver from Brockmeyer, and said, "White Queen, this is White Rook.  Over."

An answer came immediately:  "This is White Queen.  What's up, Sweetie?  Over."

"Uh, King Two wants to talk to you.  Over."

"Oh.  What about?  Over."

"I think you know.  Over."

"Oh.  That.  I'll be right over.  Over.  I mean, out."

"Out."  Saunders put down the receiver and turned around just as the door opened.

"You wanted to see me, Hanley Dear?" White Queen asked sweetly as she entered.

Hanley glared at her.  "Explain this," he ordered, pointing at the couch and its occupant.

White Queen folded her arms.  "I don't hafta and you can't make me."

Saunders put an arm around her shoulders.  "Why don't you humor him?  Then you can get back to working on Thompson Girl's suggestions."

White Queen rolled her eyes.  "I suppose.  Okay, Lieutenant, you know that new character I introduced in 'Ashes, Ashes?'  Well, he said he needed to get in some practice, because how can he be a scary a--"

A howling Thompson Girl hurtled through the still-open door.  She wrapped a hand around White Queen's mouth and said, "Not another word!  Do you want to spoil the suspense?"  Then she spotted Brockmeyer.  Instantly, her fierce demeanor was replaced by one of nonchalance.  "I mean, it's not a good idea.  You never know who might be reading over your shoulder."

White Queen extricated herself from Thompson Girl's grasp.  "Oh, right."  She didn't sound the least bit mad about the howling and the forcible gagging.  Turning back to Hanley, she added, "Well, you're in the story, you know who I'm talking about."

Hanley growled, "This is against regulations."

"For an OC to show up here?  Mention that to your pal Dana lately?"  White Queen smiled up at the lieutenant.  "Don't try to quote regulations to me, I helped write them when we built this place."  She shrugged.  "Granted, Dana probably doesn't go around leaving dead bodies on your couch, but don't worry, as soon as I'm done with the story, this'll all stop.  Besides, he's promised not to kill anyone important while he's here."

Thompson Girl nodded.  "After all, we never want anything to happen to you guys.  Unless--"

White Queen nudged her.  "Hey, what were you saying about spoiling suspense?"

Hanley grimaced.  "Meanwhile, what are we supposed to do with all these dead bodies?"

White Queen hooked her arm through Thompson Girl's, and they headed for the door.  "Just say they're Yellow Fever victims and bury them in the Panama Canal."  She didn't quite slam the door behind them.

Hanley closed his eyes.  "I really worry about her sometimes."

Saunders smiled at the closed door.  "She just watches a few too many movies, that's all."

Brockmeyer smirked.  "I know what you mean."  He pointed at the corpse.  "What shall we do with dead man five?"

Hanley was returning to the kitchen.  "You heard the lady -- see if there's a canal somewhere you can bury him in."

Saunders gave Brockmeyer a friendly pat on the shoulder.  "I'd check by the desert, they seem to be adding new stuff out that direction."  Then he walked back to the barracks, stretching and yawning as he went.

Brockmeyer sighed the deep sigh of the perpetually delegated-to.  He slung the dead general over his shoulder and left, ignoring the new red stain on the couch.  He shouldn't have to do everything, right?

 

  end

 

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