Tries this one on for size:
Feb. 10th, 2008 03:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
This is a hundred and fifty words. Which means, to fit it all, it has to be in size 7 font. Which, UGH.
Working at the firm we not-so-jokingly call "Beelzebub's Barristers," you'll eventually encounter the line you refuse to cross. I'd never had qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble; that's what lawyers do, although usually on a smaller scale than ours.
But this client destroyed an entire city, and laughed while he did it. Over a million men, women, and children gone, obliterated, just like that. And instead of getting him off, I made sure he was found guilty, got the death penalty, and was sent straight to Hell, just for good measure.
I figured they'd fire me at the very least. Maybe--probably--send me to Hell to keep the client company. Yet here I sit, in a comfy corner office, with a fat raise and the partnership I'd always coveted.
Were they testing me? And did I pass--or fail? Reward? Or punishment?
I'll probably never know.
Better? Worse? This is a dumb idea, what am I, on crack?
I'm also thinking about a "demon hunter encounters dinosaur" drabble, basically condensing my Xander-in-Congo story down. Because, damb, but I love that story beyond all reason and would love to see at least the concept get wider play.
Giant bugs? What giant bugs? Was I supposed to stick an END on that today?
Working at the firm we not-so-jokingly call "Beelzebub's Barristers," you'll eventually encounter the line you refuse to cross. I'd never had qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble; that's what lawyers do, although usually on a smaller scale than ours.
But this client destroyed an entire city, and laughed while he did it. Over a million men, women, and children gone, obliterated, just like that. And instead of getting him off, I made sure he was found guilty, got the death penalty, and was sent straight to Hell, just for good measure.
I figured they'd fire me at the very least. Maybe--probably--send me to Hell to keep the client company. Yet here I sit, in a comfy corner office, with a fat raise and the partnership I'd always coveted.
Were they testing me? And did I pass--or fail? Reward? Or punishment?
I'll probably never know.
Better? Worse? This is a dumb idea, what am I, on crack?
I'm also thinking about a "demon hunter encounters dinosaur" drabble, basically condensing my Xander-in-Congo story down. Because, damb, but I love that story beyond all reason and would love to see at least the concept get wider play.
Giant bugs? What giant bugs? Was I supposed to stick an END on that today?