I love it when
characters creep me out on television shows. The marine colonel on Banshee is a total madman and takes the
mantle of crazypants from the Red Bone leader Chayton Littlestone. Gotta say,
he lost points this past week, but I won't get into why in this venue. I may
have to dust off my Universes Altered blog and go to town on this season. LOL
Other television
news… eh, not much until this upcoming week. Looking forward to new episodes of
Arrow and The Flash. Hoping for some great stuff from Gotham and Sleepy Hollow,
too.
Lastly, come on
February. I need Bitten and The Walking Dead back on my screen. :D
Tonight's post is
from Under the Blackhawk Banner, a novella with something of an alternative
universe.
Here's the tagline:
In a battle torn land, the saving grace is the Blackhawk
Banner. Any who fly the flag are protected by the elite group of pilots and
their crew who pull off amazing feats of victory. Verity Jones, the lone female
in the group, is about to become one of their secret weapons, and Emory
Cavendish will make it happen, over the protests of damned near everyone.
And a preview snippet…
"Cavendish!" The
company commander bellowed from his office.
Emory sighed and placed his
pencil in the holder and gathered up the report, stuffing the pages in the
folder on his desk. He rose, squared his shoulders, and started for the CO's
office. No doubt, the man discovered who'd flown the last mission.
"Cavendi—" Earl Whitcomb
paused mid-shout. "'Bout damned time you got your ass in here." He
pointed to the seat opposite his desk. "Take a seat, Captain. And you'd
better be ready to explain yourself." Whitcomb dropped down, his heavy
girth rattling the chair on its hinges.
Emory crossed his legs at the
ankles and settled back. He didn't expect the meeting with his CO to last long,
but he made it a point to remain calm and collected. Whitcomb raised a brow,
indicating Emory should get talking.
Emory cleared his throat.
"Verity Jones flew the mission last night and you're not happy about
it?" He wanted everything nice and clear when he filled out his report.
Whitcomb exploded. "You're
goddamned right I'm not happy, Cavendish. What the hell are you thinking?"
He waved a hand. "Never mind. You're not thinking with your brain."
The man leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You're thinking with your
cock. And I won't have it." He hissed the last few words.
Okay, not what Emory expected.
The blistering tirade, yes. The red-faced anger, absolutely. But an accusation
of being led around by his shaft? Not bloody likely.
Emory straightened. "With
all due respect, Sir. You couldn't be more wrong." He got up and paced,
back and forth, seeking a cool head before speaking again. "Do you have
any idea who her father is?" Victor 'Aces' Jones, the best damned
Blackhawk pilot out of WWI.
Whitcomb snorted. "Of course
I know who he is. Why the hell do you think I even let the woman near my
planes?" He leaned back, folding his hands over his hefty belly.
Emory paused. "Your planes,
Sir? All aircraft belong to the Blackhawk cause. And who do you think keeps
them flying?" He started his trek back and forth again. "Verity
Jones. She knows every inch of those machines, can coax miracles from them, and
you know what else?" Emory stopped directly in front of the desk.
"She can fly like no one else I've ever seen."
Whitcomb opened his mouth, but
Emory held up a hand. The old man narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.
Emory dragged in a deep breath.
"I won't deny I find Specialist Jones fascinating, but she's bloody damned
good at what she does…" He pinned Whitcomb with his gaze. "And that
includes running missions. She got in and out of enemy territory right under
their noses. Who else could have pulled that off?"
Whitcomb lifted a brow.
"Aside from you?" He shrugged. "No one. But I don't want a woman
flying under the Blackhawk banner. What's next? Combat patrols?" He shook
his head. "No. I won't have a member of the fairer sex showing up all the
men who've put their lives on the line." He shoved the chair back and rose
from the seat. "It's bad enough she's roaming around the stronghold
wearing pants and overalls. Keep a tight leash on her, Cavendish, or you'll be
held responsible when everything goes sideways because she's here."
Emory blew out a frustrated
breath. "Yes, Sir. I'll make sure she keeps a low profile."
Whitcomb came around the desk and
clapped him on the shoulder. "Glad we understand each other, Captain.
You're dismissed."
Emory bolted from the office
before he said something truly stupid. Like how he planned to have Verity take
off after the clock struck midnight to try out the new equipment he had her
install on the Bertha Jay.
I have so much love
for this story. Emory and Verity are kind of like superheroes, bucking the
status quo. Fun!!
That's it for this
week.
Cheers!
Skye
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