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You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
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((Jeremy Franco continued from The Beggar King))

Sky painted a nice shade of red on the first evening of the rest of Jeremy's life, little grin on his face as he took a good long look at it. Yeah, shit, it looked nice. All symbolic and shit, all sorts of symbolism up in that bitch. Wasn't exactly clear what it was supposed to be a symbol for (Jeremy didn't really know how symbolism worked), but it was obvious that he had to keep looking at it long as he could. Might be the last one he saw, right? First time he'd really said that to himself, because, well... first time he'd come to terms with the idea of a swiftly approaching mortality? Epiphanies and shit, owing to his little heart-to-heart with Danya?

Also, the death helicopter. Those things tend to remind you of impending mortality.

Yeah, well, fuck the death helicopter. Jeremy had a crew now, and if it was gonna be them against whoever was coming in that chopper, then shit couldn't be too rough. Because Jeremy Franco- and feel free to check the record on this because you will find several pieces of supporting evidence filed in the appropriate places- got shit done.

So he took his eyes off the sun just before it slipped past the horizon, put his game face on. Picked up a little slip of paper with a little bit of scribbled magic on it. Something from Liz, who'da thunk it. Something that, if he was gonna make it past these next few hours and this next one potential-deadly-encounter-with-heavily-armed-terrorists, might just make a miracle or two happen.

Hi, I'm Jeremy Franco of J. Franco and Associates. Would you like to buy a miracle today?

Hahaha fuck yeah, nice ring to it.

So there were these other people here, and they were... well, God knows why they were along for the ride. Liz had never really seemed that... magnetic? Back off, assholes, Jeremy was into her before she was cool. Get it? Into her? Here, if you don't get the wordplay there, allow Jeremy to explai-

Point is, they were there. And they all had this look of grim fucking determination, so, well, fuck. Looked like they'd already all made their inspirational speeches to themselves, shouted out their serious-as-fuck battle cries in their head. Which meant there was a nice void, maybe, for Jeremy to fill with a not-really-serious-as-fuck battle cry.

“Just for the record, boys and girls, anyone who kills a terrorist gets a 40% discount at J. Franco and Associates.”

That. Will motivate. Those fuckers.

And so, feeling motivated motivated motivated as he'd ever felt, Jeremy took point on the Let's follow Liz into the scary tunnels! expedition and drew his trusty sword cane.

His what?

His sword-cane.

I'm sorry, his what?

His sword-cane, dammit!

No, no, say it like you mean it.

Oh, right. Of course.

His swooooooooooooooooooord-caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaane!
Edited by Jonny, Mar 4 2011, 05:27 AM.
Jeremy Franco is alive. You can write a better ending, goddammit.

Charlie DuClare is dead. And nothing was easy anymore except to smile.
Julian Avery is dead. Courage was the man with a gun in his hand.
JJ Sturn is dead. Fuck it, all good things gotta come to an end.
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