Ficlet: Putting the Leather to the Leather
Written for last week's
b7friday topic of leather, 300 words.
Putting the Leather to the Leather
Avon held up his jacket and stared disbelievingly at the hexagons and pentagons cut out of it. He poked a finger through one, thinking of the Liberator, then flung the garment down and strode off in search of Vila. Just as well Dorian had provided multiple copies of each outfit, he thought savagely, but Vila was going to pay for this.
He found him in the lounge, bouncing a ball off his feet, knees, body, and head while Soolin and Dayna watched, amused.
"That was my jacket."
Vila caught the ball in his hands. "Sorry, but you were the only one with the right coloured leather. And you did say to stop moping about."
Avon was working up to a withering insult, when an image presented itself. "Did you play?"
"For my club," Vila said proudly. "Top of the prison league, we were."
"So you could kick that thing the length of a pitch?"
"Most of it, yeah."
Avon smiled a predatory smile. "Excellent."
"Hurry up, Vila," Avon snapped.
"Consider it a penalty," said Soolin, who had turned out unexpectedly to be a football fan.
Vila shook his head. "Fence is too high; it's more like rugby."
"All right then, you're a goalie kicking it down the other end."
"Yeah, that could work." Vila ran up and gave the ball a hefty boot.
"Now!" said Avon, and Dayna pushed the button on her controls as the ball sailed over the wire perimeter fence. They all watched as it bounced and rolled towards the Pylene 50 plant.
"Fifteen seconds," Dayna warned, and they teleported. "Nice," she said with satisfaction as they watched the huge explosion on their screens from orbit.
"Shielding doesn't work against a delivery system like that." Avon nodded at Vila. "And what are you looking so upset about?"
"I've lost my ball."
