The Green Room
(2010) 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.
by White Queen
White Queen pushed open the door to the Green Room. "Sorry I'm a little late," she said. "I'm still a bit behind on my word count."
Although every seat in the Green Room was filled, no one answered her.
White Queen looked around slowly. "What's going on?" she asked. "Where's Saunders?"
Lt. Hanley said, "He's not here."
"I see that." White Queen took in the folded arms, the averted eyes, the grumpy expressions. "What's going on?" she asked again.
Billy Nelson looked at the floor and said, "We're on strike."
Hanley said, "That's right."
"We have our reasons."
Hanley raised his eyebrows. "How about the fact that you broke a promise to Saunders?"
"You promised you'd finish revising that story before you started NaNoWriMo, and you didn't."
"Oh, come on, he knows I did my best."
Hanley shook his head. "Not good enough."
Beside him, Littlejohn and Doc both shook their heads in unison.
"Fine, fine, what else?"
Kirby said, "How about the fact that November is almost two-thirds over and you're just now coming around here for a little help with your word count?"
White Queen said, "Hey, I've been busy. You know that."
Caje added, "And have you offered any of us a role?"
"That's why I'm here! I still have lots of roles empty, perfect for you guys."
Hanley shook his head. "You can forget it. We're on strike."
"But I haven't cast the heroine's brother, or her parents," White Queen offered.
No one responded.
"How about a college professor or two?"
"I haven't cast the arsonist yet," White Queen finally said in desperation.
Kirby snorted. "You ignore us for almost three weeks, and then you come here offering us bit parts as delivery boys and old men?"
"Hey, this isn't a swashbuckler," White Queen protested. "There are no damsels in distress or anything heroic like that."
Hanley shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're on strike."
White Queen sighed, looked around the room, shrugged, sighed again, and turned to leave. As she did, the door opened, and in walked Sawyer.
"Well here you are, Peaches," he said. "Angel's been lookin' all over for you."
"I'll go find him. Thanks." White Queen exchanged a quick hello-and-goodbye smooch with him on her way past.
Billy said, "Oh boy, I hope Saunders didn't see that."
"I saw," Saunders growled from the door to the barracks.
Sawyer grinned, flashing his deadly dimples. "Never pays to rile up the womenfolk." He headed for the kitchen.
"Hey!" Hanley protested. "Just where do you think you're going?"
Sawyer reappeared, two frosty bottles of beer in one hand. "Fishin'," he said, still smiling. "Me an' Wolverine found us a prime spot."
"Not with our beer," Hanley said.
Sawyer looked heavenward and sighed. "I tell you what. I'll trade y'all some real good advice for these two cold ones."
"We don't need your advice," Hanley said.
"Right. Which is why I have a recurring character in White Queen's novel and you're all sittin' here watchin' the floor get dusty." Sawyer shook his head, making his blond hair swish around his face. "It don't pay to get picky, boys. If one of the writers offers you a role, you take it, whether you think it's good enough for you or not. I happen to know Angel's been angling for that spot as a delivery boy, and I'm bettin' he gets it now."
He walked to the door, opened it, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Seems to me, instead of goin' on strike, you just struck out." Then he was gone, and silence filled the Green Room.