Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ The Life of a Zaibach Soldier ❯ One-Shot

The Life of a Zaibach Soldier

"Ah, I'm finally here," Malcolm said, looking up in awe of the infamous Zaibach floating fortress. Malcolm was a handsome but drifting young man. He wasn't necessarily a drunk but, lets just say, the bartenders of a vast majority of the local bars are on a first name basis with the young soldier. Malcolm had decided to join the Zaibach army in an attempt to trade his wild life for a more disciplined way of life. That, and he wanted to kill some people.

The fortress landed in the outskirts of Austuria. Malcolm drew in a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothing…"

Malcolm gazed cheerfully into his reflection in the mirror. He was in his Dragonslayer armor. Ah, what beautiful armor it was! It seemed to capture light like a flytrap catches an unsuspecting insect, giving the armor its own glow. And how difficult it was to earn such beautiful armor! Malcolm shuddered at the memory of his gruesome training. The tears and sweat he shed, each bringing him closer and closer to the armor and the Dragonslayer rank. Malcolm grinned into the mirror. ~Chicks really dig guys in armor! I should get some tonight for sure!~ Suddenly, a lowly peasant servant modestly slunked in.

"What do you want?" Malcolm snapped.

"Lor' D'landau has your very first ass'nment," the peasant explained.

"Alright! Did he tell you what it is?" Malcolm asked.

"No, he said he wan'ed at give it at you in p'rson," the peasant said.

"Maybe I'll get to kill some people!" the young soldier said dreamily, his eyes shining. He swiftly raced into Dilandau's throne room. There, Dilandau stood next to his superior, Folken. Malcolm's breath caught in his throat. This is the first time he had ever seen either of them in person. Malcolm saluted.

"I am honored to be in your presence, sirs!" Malcolm said respectfully. Folken closed his eyes.

"Whatever," Dilandau eyed the new soldier. "So you think you're special now that you're in my squad now, little boy?"

"Of course not, sir," Malcolm replied.

"Good. Now, for your first assignment…" Dilandau began.

"I'm ready for anything, sir. I'm ready to spy, kill, interrogate…"

"Go to the General Store and buy some crumpets," Dilandau finished. Malcolm's confident words caught in his throat.

"Wh-What?" Malcolm asked. "Crumpets?"

"After a night of pillaging and raping, a Zaibach soldier wants a little something to go with his cocoa," Folken said, opening his eyes. A small sweat drop formed on the brow of the young dragonslayer.

"Well, if you can't do it-" Dilandau said.

"Of course I can do it, sir!" Malcolm said with a salute. "I'll get you the best damn crumpets you've ever tasted!"

~This just must have been a test on my loyalty…~ Malcolm thought to himself as he watched his two commanders happily drinking hot chocolate and eating -his- crumpets.

After being praised then dismissed by his commanders, Malcolm walked into the bunkroom he shared with his fellow dragonslayers.

"You must be new here," one of the soldiers, Gatti, said. He looked like a friendlier version of Dilandau. Malcolm nodded. "Word of advise, shine up your armor real nice tonight, because tomorrow we're going to see emperor Dornkirk," Gatti explained.

"Wow," Malcolm said, stars in his eyes. "I'm gonna meet the emperor!"

The next day, the handful of elite soldiers were inside of a grand, dark chamber. All of the soldiers were down on their hands and knees. Dilandau was on one knee and Folken was standing with his head bowed. The group was standing before a large movie screen. Suddenly, a huge head showed up on the screen. It was a head with really long hair and an especially long beard with curlers going through it.

Malcolm glanced at the giant head and whispered to the slayer next to him - Miguel. "That's our emperor?"

"Shh! Yes!" Miguel hissed.

"Folken," Dornkirk began "My big screen television is busted! Without it, I can't watch my soap operas! You must repair it before All My Children comes on!" A tiny sweat drop formed on the head of the fallen angel.

"Yes, your majesty…" Folken said respectfully.

"What the hell was that?!" Malcolm exclaimed when the slayers were back in their bunker. "Emperor Dornkirk is just a head!"

"Shhh!" Miguel put his finger to his lips. "Don't let Lord Dilandau hear you!"

"If Lord Dilandau or Lord Folken hear you dissin' Emperor Dornkirk they will be most displeased," Dalet, a long haired dragonslayer warned.

"Why are Lord Dilandau and Lord Folken so loyal to him?" Malcolm asked with a burning curiosity.

"Um…Emperor Dornkirk performs certain…'favors' for them…" Miguel explained.

"Certain favors? What could Emperor Dornkirk possibly do? He's just a head--" Malcolm choked on his words as realization punched him in the face, sending him reeling. Upon figuring it out, Malcolm promptly raced into the bathroom to puke.

The next morning, Malcolm awoke to hear Dilandau shrieking "Burn! BURN!" from a different room. Hoping for a glorious battle, Malcolm quickly jumped out of bed, dressed only in boxers with little hearts, grabbed his sword and raced into the room in which the screams were emitted… to find Dilandau cooking waffles.

Malcolm looked down at the charcoal-black waffles sitting on his plate.

"So you see, when the chef quit, it was decided that we're all gonna take turns cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner," Miguel explained. Malcolm looked at everyone else's pitch black waffles.

"Is that so?" Malcolm said dully. "When're we gonna get to fight?! I wanna see some carcasses!"

"We'll fight soon enough," Miguel said. "So quit your bitching. Cheer up! Folken will be cooking dinner tonight!"

"Is that good or bad?" Malcolm asked.

"Not sure…" Miguel answered thoughtfully. "This is the first time. But it can't be worse than Lord Dilandau…"

A tiny sweat drop formed over Malcolm's brow as he stared at the mystery meat before him. It was a beautiful variety of psychadelic colors, though Malcolm could swear that he could see it moving on its own. The young soldier looked over at Miguel, who also had a psychadelic slab of meat moving around on his plate. The chef, Folken, the Stratago of Zaibach, walked over to the two dragonslayers and peered over their shoulders.

"You haven't touched your meals," Folken said thoughtfully. "You do not like it?"

"Miguel and Malcolm looked at each other then quickly smiled at their superior officer. "No, no, of course not, Lord Folken! It's very good, milord!" Malcolm said quickly.

Miguel nodded. "Y-yes! I wish I could cook like this!"

The Zaibach sorcerer tilted his head slightly. "Well, aren't you going to ear anymore? We have plenty."

Malcolm looked at the other dragonslayers, who were also eyeing their grub with a look of barely contained fear. Obviously not getting help from his "comrades," the rookie soldier slowly lifted his fork.

"Of course, Lord Folken…" Malcolm said. He nervously stabbed his fork into the quivering slab of meat. The thing emitted an ear-piercing scream, startling Malcolm into almost dropping his fork. All of the other dragonslayers were trembling in their seats and even Folken rose his eyebrows. Sweating, Malcolm slowly rose the fork into his mouth…

"It was very brave of you to do what you did," Miguel said respectfully.

"Thanks…" Malcolm muttered. The young soldier was laying in a hospital bed. He had passed out the moment he swallowed the vile substance that was his dinner and had gone into spasms.

"Well, my friend…" Miguel began, patting the young slayer on the back, "Thanks to you, Lord Folken's been banned from the kitchen and you've saved many fine ass slayers like me from a similar fate."

"Why is that not a comforting thought?" Malcolm grumbled.

Malcolm had only been back from the hospital less than a day and things were already chaotic. The rookie dragonslayer watched as his beloved commander, Dilandau, danced down the hall. The infamous pyromaniac was obviously plastered.

"What happened?" Malcolm asked Gatti as the young Dilandau look-a-like watched his leader having intimate conversation with inanimate objects.

"He got into your whiskey collection!" Gatti snapped.

"Oh shit…" Malcolm breathed.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Folken demanded as he walked in from his room. The blitzed Dilandau skipped over to the Strategos of Zaibach.

"Do you want my sexy body?" Dilandau asked. A tiny sweat drop formed over the strategist's head.

"I think I've overstayed my welcome…" Folken said as he backed away. A sweat drop formed on the brows of the two watching dragonslayers.

"I know 935 different positions!" Dilandau claimed before dragging the struggling black winged man into his bedroom…

"I can't believe you brought alcoholic beverages into the fortress!" Miguel cried.

"How was I to know that Lord Dilandau was going to go through my stuff?!" Malcolm whined in his defense. Gatti shook his head.

"You're gonna get it!" Gatti said. The short-haired slayer shook his head. "If not from Dilandau, from Folken."

"It's not my fault Lord Dilandau can't hold his liquor…" Malcolm muttered. "Besides, I'm sure nothing happened between Lord Dilandau and Lord Folken…"

"I don't know…" Miguel said, "my friend said he saw Lord Folken walking around with a limp…" the infamous peasant slave poked her head in through the door.

"Lor' Malc'm?" the peasant said, her eyes drifting to each dragonslayer before finally resting on the rookie himself.

"Yeah! What?!" Malcolm snapped. The peasant slowly slunked in.

"Lor' D'landau an' Lor' Folk'n wanna talk t'ya regardin' bringing alc'hol beverages to th' fortress…" the peasant informed. Malcolm swallowed nervously. His fellow dragonslayers looked at each other.

"Did they look mad?" Malcolm asked sheepishly.

"Well, Lor' Folk'n was walkin' with a limp…" she answered.

Malcolm gulped before following the messenger through a series of halls and rooms before arriving at a dark, sparsely lit passageway. There, almost seeming to be part of the shadows themselves, stood the black-winged angel and the now-sober pyromaniac. Malcolm swallowed the bile that was beginning to rise in his throat and timidly saluted his commanders. He took a good look at his superior officers while they regarded him silently. It was then he noticed that they were both smiling smugly in afterglow and the Zaibach strategist had one arm around his inferior officer. He didn't know whether to consider that good or bad…

The rookie dragonslayer was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't see the slap coming. He just felt a stinging sensation on the left side of his face and felt himself crashing most ungracefully onto the hard floor.

"You brought alcoholic beverages inside of the fortress!" Dilandau roared. Malcolm quickly climbed up onto his hands and knees.

"F-Forgive me…" Malcolm begged, his eyes downcast.

"Be alittle merciful…" Folken cut in, "It was his whiskey that brought us together, my love…"

Malcolm choked on his own bile. ~I'll pretend I didn't hear that…~

"You're right…" the young pyro purred, "but he must still be punished." Dilandau glared daggers at the young rookie. "I have the perfect punishment for you, little boy.."

"Oh no, not that!" Folken said, his eyes widening in realization. Malcolm whimpered.

"Yes, that!" Dilandau said with insane laughter. "Your punishment is-" Suddenly, the doorbell rang. He turned to look at Folken. "We have a doorbell?" The second in command answered with a simple shrug of his broad shoulders.

"I guess we do…" Folken finally stated. The doorbell rang again.

"Uh…I guess we might aswell go answer it. Who could be at our door, we're in a flying fortress..?" Dilandau said, scratching his head gently with his sword. The two head commanders walked away to answer the door. It was then Malcolm realized that up until that moment he had been holding his breath. He let out a breath of relief.

"I…can't believe I got out of that…" Malcolm breathed. "but what if Dilandau remembers that he never punished me? If I kiss some ass he may be more lenient…" With that in mind, the young soldier jogged in the same direction his two commanding officers had gone. It wasn't long before he reached the front door.

Folken and Dilandau were looking through the front door at two women (who look an aweful lot like Van and Allen in drag) wearing girl scout uniforms, each holding a large box.

"My name is Hannah, and uh…she is Lori.." Van-er-one of the girl scouts said in a deep, manly voice. "Would you like some girl scout cookies?"

"How much are they?" Dilandau asked. "I mean, we're a little tight on cash right now…y'know because of the wars and military maneuvers…" Allen-er-the other little girl shoved his box into Folken's arms.

"You can have them for free because…uh…because we like you!" Allen-er-Lori said sweetly. Folken and Dilandau looked at each other. Van-er-Hannah shoved his/her/its box into the pyro's arms.

"Yeah, uh, what Al-err-I-I mean Lori said!" 'Hannah' quickly stammered. The two girl scouts(?) jumped on their overly decorated dragon guymelef and flew away.

Malcolm stared stupidly at the whole incident. There was something awefully suspicious about those little girls…

Dilandau opened the box, all of the cookies were laced with walnuts and white powdered sugar. He took out one of the cookies and promptly ate it. After chewing it for a moment, the young psycho grinned.

"This is really good!" Dilandau squealed. Folken took out one of the cookies from his box and stuffed it in his mouth…

Malcolm knew something was wrong when he noticed Dilandau, Folken and all of his fellow dragonslayers with their arms around each other and singing "Un-break my Heart" in unison. After tasting the cookies, Folken and Dilandau had shared the rest with the dragonslayers. Malcolm was suspicious then, and he was even more suspicious now. He picked up the last cookie and examined it closely.

~Wait a sec…that's not sugar…~ Malcolm thought as he eyed the little treat. ~That's cocaine!~

The young dragonslayer gasped in shock. Acting quickly, he did the only logical thing he could think of - he panicked!

"These are the best damn cookies I've ever tasted!" Dilandau squealed. Folken nodded in agreement.

"These cookies are quite addicting…" the strategist said merrily as he munched on the chocolatey goodness, not noticing just how ironic his words actually were.

"They're much more addicting than you could possibly imagine!!" Malcolm cried. "Lord Folken! Lord Dilandau! These cookies are laced with cocaine!"

"Blasphemy!" Dilandau shrieked, "Utter such nonsense again and it'll be your head!"

Malcolm backed away defensively from his superior officers. There was obviously no getting through the fog that the drugs infused their heads with. So he sat down in a loose fetal position and wondered why two little girls would sell cocaine-laced cookies… actually, the more the young slayer thought about it, the more suspicious the whole situation was becoming. Those two little girls looked an aweful lot like men in drag…

Maybe they were trying to get everyone stoned so they could…

Realization once again punched the rookie soldier between the eyes. Malcolm immediately sprang onto his feet. "Lord Folken! Lord Dilandau! Watch out! We're going to be attacked!!--" No sooner than Malcolm spat out those words that the famous dragon guymelef crashed through the wall of the Zaibach floating citadel, sending violent tremors throughout the entire fortress. Before Malcolm could even realize what happened, a huge chunk of the ceiling broke and hit Malcolm in the head. The young Zaibach soldier sank to his knees, unconscious…

The rookie dragonslayer groaned as he regained consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes and found that he was surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

"Looks like he's awake," one of them said.

"He-ah…" Malcolm slurred, still aching and groggy from the attack. He looked up at the man who'd spoken. He had long, blonde hair and blue eyes. "Weren'…you one of the girl scouts…?" A blush crept into the young man's cheeks.

"Um…yeah…" the man muttered.

"Where am I?" Malcolm asked.

"You are in Freid," the man said. "Listen. My name is Allen Schezar, Knight of Austuria. You must understand the error of your ways and break free of Zai-"

"So I'm not in Zaibach right now?" Malcolm asked. Allen nodded. "Are the commanders anywhere near here?"

"No. They all fell like rain when we destroyed the flying citadel. I don't know where they are, why? Do you wish to escape and rejoin them?" Allen asked suspiciously. Suddenly, Malcolm sprang from his bed and hugged Allen's waist.

"Please don't make me go back!!!" Malcolm begged tearfully. "They're a bunch of freaks! Our emperor is a giant head that gives head to his two commanders, one by the way wears make-up and the other is a pyromaniac, that cook really crappy-ass food and Lord Dilandau will punish me for bringing whiskey into the fortress - please don't send me back!!!!"

The young knight blinked in astonishment. He had firmly believed that convincing the young dragonslayer to change alliances was going to be considerably difficult. "Um, sure. You can stay here and become a knight…"

"Thank you, Lord Allen!" Malcolm cried, tears in his eyes…

Epilogue

The Zaibach soldiers (including Folken and Dilandau) were so stoned during the attack that they never knew what hit them. The townsfolk of Freid claim that they saw soldiers falling room the sky singing "I Believe I Can Fly."

Van and Allen realized that they actually liked dressing in drag. The two left their respective countries to follow their dreams and are now known on Saturday Night Live as "The Ambiguously Gay Duo"

Malcolm joined the Freid Army and was finally able to kill some people. However he recently felt at unease when he heard that a new soldier joined the ranks by the name of Selena Schezar…

Fin