Every Monday, I will post a prompt. You have until the following Monday to write and reply with a 100-200 word fic, i.e. a 'drabble', inspired by the prompt. (For an extra challenge, try to hit exactly 100 words!)
You can reply with the full text of the drabble, or link out to another site like Ao3, Tumblr, etc.
Any rating is permitted; please warn for NSFW and content where appropriate.
WHAT ELSE?
Don't worry if you missed last week: you can go back and write a late response anytime.
You may post more than one response to a single week's prompt.
If you're inspired to continue your drabbles, you're welcome to connect multiple challenge responses to each other, or expand on your fics outside of the challenge.
Characters: Sammy & the cooler Sumio Rating: PG, for :3c Notes: my fav fandom oc is this longsuffering woman from w5 creative Word count: 100 Link:here
Sumio leans back in his folding chair, scanning the script. There's an agonizing pause; the promoter taps her heel, waiting. At last, he peers cautiously up at her face. "If I'm a heel now, you need to write me sexier."
"Much sexier," echoes Sammy. His eyes are wide, brown, and earnest, but there's a twist to his lip, mustache tilted almost diabolically. "He's getting a new costume, right? Can wardrobe justify something... tighter?"
Their promoter scowls and yanks the script from Sumio's hands. Sammy's palm catches the chair before he topples backward.
Characters: Sylvia Christel, Destroyman Rating: a tentative PG Notes: Pre NMH- Sylvia is suffering through more chauvinist bs on set Word count: 121
"Oh, shake it baby! Oh yeah!"
Destroyman's voice echoed through the bustling set, but lacked a satisfying delivery- the smarm just didn't carry to the camera.
Sylvia let her phone click shut before turning to Destroyman, currently suspended via wire on set, mouth turned downwards in a frustrated glower upwards.
"No, you trogdolyte, do the line like you're supposed to!" She snapped up at him through a megaphone. Destroyman giggled from the corner of the room, relishing in Sylvia's clear frustration with him stretching out the time on set.
"Look, you can rewrite my lines anytime, just meet me in my trailer--"
Sylvia, done with John's bullshit, left him hanging on that thought as she exited the studio for the day.
Characters: Naomi Rating: G Notes: all nighters suck Word count: 98ish? Do you count hyphens. it's floating around 100. it's there in spirit.
Naomi knitted her brow and forcefully ground a menthol into the ashtray. 6 AM approached and she was no closer to solving the problem of Tsubaki Mk-III's pommel- the 3D printing program was being exceptionally difficult, and the present all-nighter was doing her no favors.
"Fucking stroke order," She said, trying not to throw the tablet against the nearest cinderblock. "Not like the otaku will even goddamn notice."
She sighed, flexing her fingers before getting up to grab water and coffee and fight off the latest wave of fatigue. This design wasn't going to finish itself, after all.
Characters: Sumio, Tetsu mention Rating: G, But Watch Out Notes: another sort of future to consider Word count: 100
It’s another humid day where time feels at a standstill, stagnant air hanging in place. Sumio peers out the office window, and finds himself slipping into a familiar habit.
He visualises a rural town, a florist. She’s there, now a lovely grown woman, tending to potting mix with a smile. What about a cafe? Wearing a small apron, she serves coffee with a kind hand. A library, now. Pushing a book cart between tables, a sparkle in her eye.
A hard hand clapping over his shoulder brings him back to the Wards. Tetsu says something, and Sumio doesn’t hear him.
Characters: Sundance Shot Rating: G Notes: Flower, Sun, and Rain spoilers. Word count: 200
Do you wish to continue? the computer prompts.
Sundance Shot’s index finger hovers above his mouse. Yes, he chooses, and several seconds later a digital folder on his screen is simultaneously filled and emptied of flying papers, the blue progress bar slowly filling from left to right. He leans back slightly in his chair, the flickering light of the PC casting long shadows in the darkened lab. The whir of electricity some 30 feet above him creates a pleasant kind of noise that could easily put him to sleep.
The disc drive ejects automatically as the screen informs him: Copying complete.
Sundance eyes the CD-RW resting in the optical drive, not yet marked by a felt tipped pen resting on the keyboard. A digital archive exists on his PC case of any OS crashes—though based on Shelter Children research, it’s practically hypothetical at this point based on stock bodies’ makeup and reports—but having a rewriteable CD to just pop into the Katharine-10000 and upload the newly gathered data to the stock body was useful.
He picks up the CD in one hand, the pen in the other. Mondo Sumio: stock body #17 is written neatly in bold letters.
Characters: Shinobu, Jeane (the sister), Bad Girl, mentions of Midori and Sylvia Rating: M Notes: some college friends play D&D and talk shit Word count: 200
"Roll for it?"
"Yeah fucking roll. I didn't buy these dice for my health, Jeanie."
"Fuck, Jeane! Can't believe they let you on a team with those reflexes."
"And my daddy didn't gurantee my place." She elbowed Charlie, reaching for another beer. "Just finish up so we can start."
"Yeah, yeah. You sure Sylvia isn't coming though?"
"She'll probably join us during that magical girl campaign. I think she won't now because of... Well, you know her boyfriend."
"Who?" Scarlet snapped to attention. "Why would she play with us in the first place? I feel like she's going to call me a slur every time she opens her mouth."
Jeane snorted. "I get that feeling too, but we need another player besides Midori. Can't just be us three."
"It wouldn't have to be if Char just stopped fucking around and asked that TA to join us."
"Fuck outta here!" Charlie ducked her head, feeling petty enough now to write an even harder boss fight. "He's way too normal for this nerd shit."
"That's not what you said last time."
"I said he was cultured, you bitch."
"You said he looked like he could lay some real good pipe."
Characters: Travis, Kamui Rating: T on the road to M Notes: I'm hungry. also it's travmui Word count: 200
It was a dive.
(Great burgers. Beef and something, fat as a hockey puck, extra pepper seasoning. Egg nestled on the patty. Thick fries, served with homemade ranch, local barbecue sauce, or vinegary ketchup. Fresh pink lemonade, too sweet sweet tea.)
So he didn’t need to feel bad.
The small unisex bathroom reeked of lemon and pine cleaner, for double the power. Could be much worse. There was a drain in the floor even—they’d known.
A battered sign was taped next to the mirror tagged in scratches: “PLEASE Don’t F*ck In The Restroom.” Or at least that was intended, the “Don’t” so violently scribbled out it cut into the lamination.
Sorry, Travis thought to himself, more horny than sorry; it evened out.
White tiles went partway up the wall, grime baked into the grout. Afterwards the phone numbers, graffiti, dick drawings, gossip, and pseudointellectual musings were waiting for their next cleanup coat. Too bad he never carried a pen.
Travis planted his quarter cup of ass against the clean, clean sink. He imagined Kamui’s hesitation was anxiety—“should we?”—in his quiet voice. Better than thinking he was waiting for… nevermind. He unzipped his jeans to break the silence.
Characters: Shinobu, Bad Girl, Sammy Jacobs, a surprise Rating: G, Notes: meeting the parent Word count: 200
Charlotte was speechless when Shinobu's dad brought out the kotatsu.
"It ain't really ever cold enough in Santa Destroy for this, but why not." He said, beard more salt than 30 pepper at this point, hands smoothing the fabric out on their low coffee table. Nodding her thanks and closing the door to frigid January air, Charlotte kicked off her shoes.
There was a pit in her stomach. Jacobs looks at her with clear eyes, and the blonde can't decide what to do with her hands.
"My daughter tells me you can hit with the best of 'em." He says, gesturing for the woman to take a seat.
Phrasing, Charlie. Think.
"I, uh, would hang out at the batting cages a lot. Habit." She played off the question, averting her eyes from his.
"Played a fair amount of team sports, or were you just lookin' to swing something heavy around?" He quirked a brow, and Charlotte can see an echo of Scarlett's cocky grin on his features.
Honesty, here.
"Bit of both. Dad played professionally. Doesn't really talk about it."
The man closes his eyes, and his face softens just a bit.
Characters: Sumio Kodai, Kurumizawa Kosuke Rating: T Notes: the most cursed date in human history Word count: 200
Surely everyone wishes they could rewrite their last encounter with someone important to them. Or well, it's something Kosuke Kurumizawa, the man who stepped outside of a single body locked in linear time, desiring against death, has to speculatively conclude other people feel. So why not give one a chance?
He was doing it out of curiosity, and also the goodness of his heart, really! Not because this cocky motherfucker had gotten a bit too close on his tail for comfort. No, he knew that Kodai's last memory of this woman was probably packing her into a police van, regretfully, but thinking he'd soon be able to visit her, not knowing what he was in for. Kurumizawa looks at the door because in 90% of the extrapolations he ran based on the time his message was opened, he arrives sometime over the next ten seconds.
On cue, the door lock clicks open, and he has to consciously work to keep the face he's wearing looking neutral, pleasantly surprised, even. Christ. The idiot brought flowers? Really? Though, to Kurumizawa, there's also a fleeting pleasure in the idea that there are still a few variables in the world even he can't predict.
Characters: Damon, Juvenile Rating: PG Notes: (light tsa implications) friendly banter from the Goddamn Superhero dev team. Word count: 100
"Again."
Damon slams his fist down on the desk and Juvenile spills her coffee. Her voice is deathly quiet. "This is the seventh time."
"Alright then, perhaps by the fiftieth time you'll have something worth sending to the investors."
He scoops up the drafts and skims over hours of work in a few seconds. "How about showing us as childhood friends? Audiences love a sympathetic villain. You give them a weak spot and suddenly everyone starts thinking hey, maybe they're not so bad. Maybe they could still have a redemption arc."
Juvenile laughs wryly. "Whatever lets you sleep at night."
Characters: Shiroyabu, that one assassin from 03: boys don't cry Rating: M for mentions of gore, character death Notes: surprise encounter! Word count: 100
Shiroyabu feels a pinprick of annoyance settle into his spine as the next ATM flashes a CARD DECLINED screen at him. One was unfortunate, two was bad luck, but three? A pattern. He'd long passed that, and he readied himself for the next encounter.
A woman walks up to him, dressed in black.
[ENCOUNTER START! YOU WERE ATTACKED FROM BEHIND, IDIOT]
She pulls out a revolver and aims it at his neck, blowing a hole through his trachea before he can even turn around. He crumples on the pavement, wheezing out soft sounds before loading his last save.
Characters: Travis/Kamui Rating: T-ish? also on the road to m?!?! Notes: *teleports behind you* Word count: 100
"So you'd jump in, guns blazing. What next?"
"I take out that badass chick."
Kamui scoffs, fishing his clothes off the floor. He can humor-- indulge, really-- the idea of being rescued, but one's imagination can only stretch so far. "Good luck, Trav."
Travis' indignant voice seems to bounce off the bathroom tiles. "I could take her!"
"She killed me. Often." He's shrugged his pants back on, but where on Earth is his shirt? Ah, well. Kamui pads over to Travis' closet, grabbing something... inoffensive.
Finally, Travis emerges, toweling his hair dry. "Then I jump in behind her," he insists.
Characters: Jeane (the sister), Shinobu, Sylvia, Travis (lmao.....) Rating: T Notes: the famous confrontation gets a different outcome Word count: 200
It took a few moments for her to register the other talking, over the drone of flies and the sound of vacuums and high pressure water. She scrubbed at her stinging eyes with a stained glove. "What?"
"What are you going to do next?" A scoff, though there's nothing behind it. No fight in her after deciding to step back and see what happened. "Kill me too? You already won."
"Well, first." Jeane rolled her shoulders, a loud popping and cracking accompanying it. She stepped past Shinobu and snatched a familiar pair of aviators off the ground. They're not scratched or even dirty, but it's only been a few minutes after all. She put them on, near instant relief following. "My eyes hurt. Second..."
Her eyes trailed over to the woman they both knew well enough. Too busy muttering into her cellphone to bother with them. She snapped back to the girl who looked like she wanted to run. It was all a mistake, and she was too young to really understand. Maybe in time...
"Let's head over there, okay? We can talk about it." She pointed past her to the castle in the distance. "I'll tell you everything."
Characters: Travis Touchdown, Thunder Ryu Rating: G, top 10 photos before disaster Notes: this is veery late cuz i wanted to honor the word count, at least for my first one >_> Word count: 100
Sand crunched under his shoes as Travis stepped out of the bus into the dry, abandoned Speed City. As he stepped toward the solitary figure up ahead, he realized he wasn’t facing the opponent he’d expected.
“Master?”
At the sound of his voice, Thunder Ryu glances over his shoulder. Brushing a stray lock of hair back into place, he turned to face his student with a small smile.
“Travis, you’ve been doing well. But, this third rank… I wanted to see to it personally that you were ready to advance.”
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heinouscrimesunit2022-01-16 03:04 pm
TEMPLATE
Rating: M
Notes: warning for eye horror
Word count: 151
Link: here
no subject
the coolerSumioRating: PG, for :3c
Notes: my fav fandom oc is this longsuffering woman from w5 creative
Word count: 100
Link: here
Sumio leans back in his folding chair, scanning the script. There's an agonizing pause; the promoter taps her heel, waiting. At last, he peers cautiously up at her face. "If I'm a heel now, you need to write me sexier."
"Much sexier," echoes Sammy. His eyes are wide, brown, and earnest, but there's a twist to his lip, mustache tilted almost diabolically. "He's getting a new costume, right? Can wardrobe justify something... tighter?"
Their promoter scowls and yanks the script from Sumio's hands. Sammy's palm catches the chair before he topples backward.
"You wear tights."
"Leather?" proposes Sumio. "Leather's hot."
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-19 10:17 am (UTC)(link)Rating: a tentative PG
Notes: Pre NMH- Sylvia is suffering through more chauvinist bs on set
Word count: 121
"Oh, shake it baby! Oh yeah!"
Destroyman's voice echoed through the bustling set, but lacked a satisfying delivery- the smarm just didn't carry to the camera.
Sylvia let her phone click shut before turning to Destroyman, currently suspended via wire on set, mouth turned downwards in a frustrated glower upwards.
"No, you trogdolyte, do the line like you're supposed to!" She snapped up at him through a megaphone. Destroyman giggled from the corner of the room, relishing in Sylvia's clear frustration with him stretching out the time on set.
"Look, you can rewrite my lines anytime, just meet me in my trailer--"
Sylvia, done with John's bullshit, left him hanging on that thought as she exited the studio for the day.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-20 12:00 pm (UTC)(link)Rating: G
Notes: all nighters suck
Word count: 98ish? Do you count hyphens. it's floating around 100. it's there in spirit.
Naomi knitted her brow and forcefully ground a menthol into the ashtray. 6 AM approached and she was no closer to solving the problem of Tsubaki Mk-III's pommel- the 3D printing program was being exceptionally difficult, and the present all-nighter was doing her no favors.
"Fucking stroke order," She said, trying not to throw the tablet against the nearest cinderblock. "Not like the otaku will even goddamn notice."
She sighed, flexing her fingers before getting up to grab water and coffee and fight off the latest wave of fatigue. This design wasn't going to finish itself, after all.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-20 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)Rating: G, But Watch Out
Notes: another sort of future to consider
Word count: 100
It’s another humid day where time feels at a standstill, stagnant air hanging in place. Sumio peers out the office window, and finds himself slipping into a familiar habit.
He visualises a rural town, a florist. She’s there, now a lovely grown woman, tending to potting mix with a smile. What about a cafe? Wearing a small apron, she serves coffee with a kind hand. A library, now. Pushing a book cart between tables, a sparkle in her eye.
A hard hand clapping over his shoulder brings him back to the Wards. Tetsu says something, and Sumio doesn’t hear him.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-21 10:59 pm (UTC)(link)Rating: G
Notes: Flower, Sun, and Rain spoilers.
Word count: 200
Do you wish to continue? the computer prompts.
Sundance Shot’s index finger hovers above his mouse. Yes, he chooses, and several seconds later a digital folder on his screen is simultaneously filled and emptied of flying papers, the blue progress bar slowly filling from left to right. He leans back slightly in his chair, the flickering light of the PC casting long shadows in the darkened lab. The whir of electricity some 30 feet above him creates a pleasant kind of noise that could easily put him to sleep.
The disc drive ejects automatically as the screen informs him: Copying complete.
Sundance eyes the CD-RW resting in the optical drive, not yet marked by a felt tipped pen resting on the keyboard. A digital archive exists on his PC case of any OS crashes—though based on Shelter Children research, it’s practically hypothetical at this point based on stock bodies’ makeup and reports—but having a rewriteable CD to just pop into the Katharine-10000 and upload the newly gathered data to the stock body was useful.
He picks up the CD in one hand, the pen in the other. Mondo Sumio: stock body #17 is written neatly in bold letters.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-22 08:44 am (UTC)(link)Rating: M
Notes: some college friends play D&D and talk shit
Word count: 200
"Roll for it?"
"Yeah fucking roll. I didn't buy these dice for my health, Jeanie."
"Fuck, Jeane! Can't believe they let you on a team with those reflexes."
"And my daddy didn't gurantee my place." She elbowed Charlie, reaching for another beer. "Just finish up so we can start."
"Yeah, yeah. You sure Sylvia isn't coming though?"
"She'll probably join us during that magical girl campaign. I think she won't now because of... Well, you know her boyfriend."
"Who?" Scarlet snapped to attention. "Why would she play with us in the first place? I feel like she's going to call me a slur every time she opens her mouth."
Jeane snorted. "I get that feeling too, but we need another player besides Midori. Can't just be us three."
"It wouldn't have to be if Char just stopped fucking around and asked that TA to join us."
"Fuck outta here!" Charlie ducked her head, feeling petty enough now to write an even harder boss fight. "He's way too normal for this nerd shit."
"That's not what you said last time."
"I said he was cultured, you bitch."
"You said he looked like he could lay some real good pipe."
no subject
Rating: T on the road to M
Notes: I'm hungry. also it's travmui
Word count: 200
It was a dive.
(Great burgers. Beef and something, fat as a hockey puck, extra pepper seasoning. Egg nestled on the patty. Thick fries, served with homemade ranch, local barbecue sauce, or vinegary ketchup. Fresh pink lemonade, too sweet sweet tea.)
So he didn’t need to feel bad.
The small unisex bathroom reeked of lemon and pine cleaner, for double the power. Could be much worse. There was a drain in the floor even—they’d known.
A battered sign was taped next to the mirror tagged in scratches: “PLEASE Don’t F*ck In The Restroom.” Or at least that was intended, the “Don’t” so violently scribbled out it cut into the lamination.
Sorry, Travis thought to himself, more horny than sorry; it evened out.
White tiles went partway up the wall, grime baked into the grout. Afterwards the phone numbers, graffiti, dick drawings, gossip, and pseudointellectual musings were waiting for their next cleanup coat. Too bad he never carried a pen.
Travis planted his quarter cup of ass against the clean, clean sink. He imagined Kamui’s hesitation was anxiety—“should we?”—in his quiet voice. Better than thinking he was waiting for… nevermind. He unzipped his jeans to break the silence.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-22 01:16 pm (UTC)(link)Rating: G,
Notes: meeting the parent
Word count: 200
Charlotte was speechless when Shinobu's dad brought out the kotatsu.
"It ain't really ever cold enough in Santa Destroy for this, but why not." He said, beard more salt than 30 pepper at this point, hands smoothing the fabric out on their low coffee table. Nodding her thanks and closing the door to frigid January air, Charlotte kicked off her shoes.
There was a pit in her stomach. Jacobs looks at her with clear eyes, and the blonde can't decide what to do with her hands.
"My daughter tells me you can hit with the best of 'em." He says, gesturing for the woman to take a seat.
Phrasing, Charlie. Think.
"I, uh, would hang out at the batting cages a lot. Habit." She played off the question, averting her eyes from his.
"Played a fair amount of team sports, or were you just lookin' to swing something heavy around?" He quirked a brow, and Charlotte can see an echo of Scarlett's cocky grin on his features.
Honesty, here.
"Bit of both. Dad played professionally. Doesn't really talk about it."
The man closes his eyes, and his face softens just a bit.
"Yeah, Shigeki wasn't one to ruminate."
Charlotte relaxes.
Good.
no subject
Rating: T
Notes: the most cursed date in human history
Word count: 200
Surely everyone wishes they could rewrite their last encounter with someone important to them. Or well, it's something Kosuke Kurumizawa, the man who stepped outside of a single body locked in linear time, desiring against death, has to speculatively conclude other people feel. So why not give one a chance?
He was doing it out of curiosity, and also the goodness of his heart, really! Not because this cocky motherfucker had gotten a bit too close on his tail for comfort. No, he knew that Kodai's last memory of this woman was probably packing her into a police van, regretfully, but thinking he'd soon be able to visit her, not knowing what he was in for. Kurumizawa looks at the door because in 90% of the extrapolations he ran based on the time his message was opened, he arrives sometime over the next ten seconds.
On cue, the door lock clicks open, and he has to consciously work to keep the face he's wearing looking neutral, pleasantly surprised, even. Christ. The idiot brought flowers? Really? Though, to Kurumizawa, there's also a fleeting pleasure in the idea that there are still a few variables in the world even he can't predict.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-22 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)Rating: PG
Notes: (light tsa implications) friendly banter from the Goddamn Superhero dev team.
Word count: 100
"Again."
Damon slams his fist down on the desk and Juvenile spills her coffee. Her voice is deathly quiet. "This is the seventh time."
"Alright then, perhaps by the fiftieth time you'll have something worth sending to the investors."
He scoops up the drafts and skims over hours of work in a few seconds. "How about showing us as childhood friends? Audiences love a sympathetic villain. You give them a weak spot and suddenly everyone starts thinking hey, maybe they're not so bad. Maybe they could still have a redemption arc."
Juvenile laughs wryly. "Whatever lets you sleep at night."
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-23 03:08 am (UTC)(link)Rating: M for mentions of gore, character death
Notes: surprise encounter!
Word count: 100
Shiroyabu feels a pinprick of annoyance settle into his spine as the next ATM flashes a CARD DECLINED screen at him. One was unfortunate, two was bad luck, but three? A pattern. He'd long passed that, and he readied himself for the next encounter.
A woman walks up to him, dressed in black.
[ENCOUNTER START! YOU WERE ATTACKED FROM BEHIND, IDIOT]
She pulls out a revolver and aims it at his neck, blowing a hole through his trachea before he can even turn around. He crumples on the pavement, wheezing out soft sounds before loading his last save.
[LOADING GAME...]
no subject
Rating: T-ish? also on the road to m?!?!
Notes: *teleports behind you*
Word count: 100
"So you'd jump in, guns blazing. What next?"
"I take out that badass chick."
Kamui scoffs, fishing his clothes off the floor. He can humor-- indulge, really-- the idea of being rescued, but one's imagination can only stretch so far. "Good luck, Trav."
Travis' indignant voice seems to bounce off the bathroom tiles. "I could take her!"
"She killed me. Often." He's shrugged his pants back on, but where on Earth is his shirt? Ah, well. Kamui pads over to Travis' closet, grabbing something... inoffensive.
Finally, Travis emerges, toweling his hair dry. "Then I jump in behind her," he insists.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2022-01-24 05:38 am (UTC)(link)Rating: T
Notes: the famous confrontation gets a different outcome
Word count: 200
It took a few moments for her to register the other talking, over the drone of flies and the sound of vacuums and high pressure water. She scrubbed at her stinging eyes with a stained glove. "What?"
"What are you going to do next?" A scoff, though there's nothing behind it. No fight in her after deciding to step back and see what happened. "Kill me too? You already won."
"Well, first." Jeane rolled her shoulders, a loud popping and cracking accompanying it. She stepped past Shinobu and snatched a familiar pair of aviators off the ground. They're not scratched or even dirty, but it's only been a few minutes after all. She put them on, near instant relief following. "My eyes hurt. Second..."
Her eyes trailed over to the woman they both knew well enough. Too busy muttering into her cellphone to bother with them. She snapped back to the girl who looked like she wanted to run. It was all a mistake, and she was too young to really understand. Maybe in time...
"Let's head over there, okay? We can talk about it." She pointed past her to the castle in the distance. "I'll tell you everything."
no subject
Rating: G, top 10 photos before disaster
Notes: this is veery late cuz i wanted to honor the word count, at least for my first one >_>
Word count: 100
Sand crunched under his shoes as Travis stepped out of the bus into the dry, abandoned Speed City. As he stepped toward the solitary figure up ahead, he realized he wasn’t facing the opponent he’d expected.
“Master?”
At the sound of his voice, Thunder Ryu glances over his shoulder. Brushing a stray lock of hair back into place, he turned to face his student with a small smile.
“Travis, you’ve been doing well. But, this third rank… I wanted to see to it personally that you were ready to advance.”
“You mean-?”
“You’ll need to kill me to move forward.”