Post #346914

#wss366 #mace “It’s gone!” Jim looked at the frantic young man in the blue suit who had burst into his office and was clutching his sleeve like a drowning man. “It’s gone, Jim! It’s gone!” Jim put his hand over the younger man’s and gripped it firmly. “Calm down, Frank. Take a breath, and start again. Now, tell me, *what* is gone?” The panic on Frank’s face intensified. “The mace!” Jim blinked three times, then shook his head in disbelief. “*The* mace?” “Yes, *the* mace!” “Fuck.” Jim felt his heartrate climbing, fast. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He slammed his fist against the wall so hard the plaster cracked. “Parliament opens in an hour, Frank! The Serjeant-at-Arms is gonna be expecting to collect the mace from us in forty minutes! Where is the fucking mace?!” Frank held out a trembling hand. A tiny scrap of paper fluttered between his fingers. “We found this!” Jim snatched the paper, turned it over, and squinted. He held the paper closer, and shook his head. “What the hell? Who has handwriting this small?” He turned and placed the paper on the desk, pulled out his phone, took a photo, then zoomed in on it. And zoomed. And zoomed some more. And read the scrawled note. ‘Ya promised the kelda safety, and ya went back on ya word ya bloody bastards. Now yer gonna pay!’ There was a crude drawing of the mace broken in two. Jim squeezed his eyes shut, then began uttering a long string of expletives that turned Frank’s face white. He picked up the blue phone from his desk, waiting a moment for the connection to establish. “Code Blue,” he said, his voice shaking. “We have pictsies loose in the House, and they’re out for revenge!” #microfiction #tootfic