Street Fighting Men

MannequinMuse

Well-Known Member
#1
______
Blood and rubble were all that remained of London Town.

It started with the constant bombings, the slow creep of the armies across the continent while the Sicherheitsdienst infiltrated the country poisoning the resistance and corrupting them from within. Soon the Axis force came across the channel and the Queen's land was quickly added to the Fuhrer's domain. The German's and their Italian lackeys decided London had suffered too much during the Luftwaffe assaults to be repaired and left the burnt husk of the as a message to the populace.

All that you once had has been taken.

The city was marginally patrolled by a honor guard of soldiers who were either rich men's sons or good enough playing mess hall politics to get the cushy position. The men tended to be lax in their patrols and more content to drink Sangiovese wines imported from Tuscany and play cards than anything else. There wasn't much for them to do, the city was simply a monument to the dead and to the power of the Nazi party.

It was for that reason that William Martin Alleyne Brownlowe Cecil the 7th Marquees of Exter, a title he had to grant himself after his brother, David, died, the Axis wasn't keen on giving the peerage any authority, decided to set up his base just inside the London perimeter. The lax security made it easy to sneak in and set up shop and besides, Northhamton was sleepy town, no place for a township rebellion.

A rebellion which, he had to admit as he finished oiling his rifle, consisted of two men. Himself and his good friend Robert Owen Black. Who was currently regretting his involvement in the whole enterprise.

ôWhy the hell did you have to drag me out, Will. I was comfortable you know.ö, said Black as he finished checking his equipment for the third time.

William had to laugh, ôNeed I remind you that your estate has been seized to house a troupe of Italians and all your notes taken by your sister, who as a long time sympathizer will simply have her Nazi judge rule in her favor.ö

ôI'd at least have my Sangria at home. The woman at least had the civility to leave the cellar intact.ö Black retorted before smiling, ôAh, well, what can be done now. Once you've banded with madmen there really is no point in looking back.ö

ôI'm afrain you've only managed to band with a madman, and besides if there was more then one other this would hardly seem foolish.ö

ôPerhaps not as foolish, but I feel a forward assault against overwhelming numbers to recapture a hovel is a fools errand no matter how many attempt it together.ö Black pointed out.

ôYou make it sound so pointless.ö William said as he slung the rifle behind his back and holsered a pistol, ôWe shall be like Roland and Oliver, our names shall be cried out across the land and forever remembered.ö

ôRoland and Oliver both died, Will.ö

ôAnd who would remember them if they didn't?ö
____________
-Mannequin of the Muse

Not particularly happy with this as it's not directly addressing the prompt, but it's 5am I've not slept for a good long while and if I keep it going it'll keep going and just get worse. Better short and sharp than long and rambling. Although this one rambles a bit too much. And uses RATM references ironically.
 

biigoh

Well-Known Member
#2
Street Fighting Men
Code:
English: 18
Details: 19
Theme: 18
Story: 20
Other: 18
TOTAL: 93
While this is a -post- defeat, in a way... it does fit the theme of Last Stand, because the outlook is grim and they likely will not live long. But, they will go down fighting. I do feel for the two men, as they radiate friendship that comes from knowing each other for some time.

And it is clear that there is some thought and research into the fic with the little details. Outside of minor spelling errors, the text flows smoothly.

This fic is much like having crumpets with earl grey tea that had some brandy mixed in, stout stuff. Much liking for it.

This is my judgment and I stand by it.
 
Top