After Earth's Fall | ✔ UNDERGOING CONSTRUCTION

~*~

"D e a r O h G r e a t P r e s i d e n t O f E d e n,

Y o u ' v e s e e m t o h a v e f o r g o t t e n s o m e t h i n g. W e h a v e b e e n u n d e r y o u r r a d a r f o r y e a r s. W e a r e s t r o n g a n d w e a r e u n i t e d. D e s p i t e y o u r a t t e m p t s t o w i p e u s o u t.
A s f o r y o u r m e r c h a n d i s e, y e a h, w e h a v e I t. D o w e p l a n o n h a n d I n g t h e m o v e r? N e v e r.
S o d o u b l e u p y o u r t r o o p s a n d t r I p l e y o u r d e f e n s e s. B e p r e p a r e d f o r a f I g h t, y o u ' r e g o n n a h a v e t o b e.

P . S, w e ' v e k I n d l y l e f t a g I f t I n y o u r a r m o r y w e t h o u g h t y o u w o u l d l I k e.

S I n c e r e l y,

F r I d a y,
L e a d e r Of S a n c t u r a r y.

{\S/}"

With a little mischievous grin, Friday swivels herself around to face the team on the stump she's sitting on. "It's sent."

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RAP RAP RAP RAP!

"Miss?"

Worry lines etch deeply into Miss Chaucer's skin as she slides her hand up and down her balding scalp. Only fair patches of hair still remain. With a terrified whimper, Earleen studies herself in the small handheld mirror she holds in her hands. Her skin is slowly becoming less silky smooth and more wrinkly every passing day. Her age is catching up with her. In three more days, what will remain? A mangy, walking corpse? A skeleton? Death? The word sends a shiver running up her spine and she slowly, in dismay, sets the mirror down on her desk.

"Miss!" a woman dressed in formal, office attire yells and barges in. "OH!' she gasps unexpectedly, throwing a shaky hand over her wide open mouth.

Earleen's reaction wasn't anything too far of that either and she quickly puts a folder containing technical documents up to the side exposed side of her face. Shielding her shame. Suddenly, her embarrassment turns into hot red anger.

"WHAT?! Is so important to cause you to come barging into my office uninvited?" Miss Chaucer bellows and the young assistant flinches.

"I-I have a rather urgent matter to discuss with you about. A-actually I won't take up much of your time. A lady called Friday sent a letter. The armoury was breached and raided-" the woman starts but the moment Friday is uttered from her mouth, Earleen suddenly has complete interest and snatches the printed letter out of her hands.

"That...that little-" she stutters, dropping the folder out of her hands. Steadily, Earleen stands up out of her seat, crumpling the letter in her hands before letting it fall. One of her hands flies out and grasps a glass vase.

The President of Eden lets out a bloodcurdling scream and flings the vase in front of her which shatters to shards against the tough Andursite wall.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The clacking sound of Miss Chaucer's heels echo through the courtyard surrounding the armoury in an urgent, acute rhythm. A squadron of guards follow close behind. Once she arrives at the doors of the armoury, a guard fumbles with his ID card to get the doors open as quickly as possible for if anything is to get in Earleen's way, she'll make whoever is responsible's life living hell. Miss Chaucer has only ever been this bent on something since her beloved fiance died. And that wasn't pleasant for anyone. Her eyes scan the empty room like a hawk. A meticulous glare in her eye when eventually, she takes notice of a piece of paper lying underneath what seems like a small, singular pistol. Curiously, she squats down and proceeds to read.