The End of the Harbingers

The End of the Harbingers
	A half charred yellow and red fluffy begs for mercy with petrified and smoking bodies around him.  "PWEASE! NUU HAWT HUWTIES! SOWWY! COWT SOWWY! NUU WAN HUWTIES WIKE BWOFFA! NUU WAN HUWTIES WIKE MUMMAH! WAN MUMMA-!"  As the small colt is doused in a quick blast of flame the screams quickly rise and die out. "This is E-1, extermination complete, requesting C team..." Pocketing his radio Drake doesn't even notice the muffled response from his belt.  Removing a thick fire proof glove he runs his fingers through the coarse and quickly graying hair.  A deep and hollow sigh escapes him as his hand drops.  It's as though his hold body is rusting.

	Returning to the Unit 7 HQ is like returning to a graveyard.  Only the bare bones staff is remaining in the building.  Pulling up his van into its designated spot Drake crosses the small parking lot of the dilapidated office complex.  Not six months ago there would be cars everywhere here for the maintenance crews, coordinators, cleanup units, and researchers.  But now only a hand full of vehicles inhabit the park. As Drake enters the small office at the entrance of the park he notices the Rookie on his way out.

	"Morning commander..." is all Drake hears from the young man as he plods by for his shift.  Throwing his thick jacket into his locker Drake falls back against the locker room bench and lets his mind wander.  The national deployment units have been taking an even more active role lately.  Extermination and cleanup staff have been cut by nearly half over the last six months.  Deployment's newest policy is, "Increased productivity through active herd manipulation" i.e. the Harbingers are to work longer with less staff. The only person enjoying these longer hours is the resident psychopath Jayce.  But, despite the increased load the pay hasn't risen since day one.  "Kinda makes you feel bad for teachers..." Blake enters the locker room and places his rifle case against the wall.  A hollow 'clunk' resounds in the concrete locker room.  Drake looks up at the former marine sniper, "What do you mean?"  Blake removes his jacket and opens his locker, "You know teachers haven't received a pay raise for seven years don't you?" Drake let out small chuckle, "Wow, now that's sad." The two remain silent as they remove the remainder of their thick protective clothing and put on their civilian apparel.

	Driving home in his modest car the odd fluffy is run over by the motor vehicle.  Drake used to look back, but after seeing hundreds of mares, stallions, and foals crying over mangled bodies his eyes don't even waver from the road ahead. NPR plays quietly through the radio.  "...now you recently completed a study of the new E.N.F.F. organization plans, what can you tell us about the effects these new policies?" "Dianne, from what I can tell the new policies are only beneficial to both the fluffy population, and the environment." "But, wouldn't you say that these new policies are impacting the lives of the exterminators that have to work harder for less pay?" "No, in fact most of these exterminators would love the chance to kill fluffies more oft-" Drake turns off his radio and resumes his drive in silence.  Then his cell phone goes off for the third time this week.

	Later that night, Drake and the remaining members of the extermination unit are assembled in a dark field once more.  During the drive the haggard unit was briefed for their mission.  Using flashlights and spears they hunt around four hundred fluffies.  "Okay men, we remain in sight and use lights to flush them together if they wake up.  Try to stay quiet to take as many by surprise as possible." Jayce, usually asleep by now yawns heavily, "Whatever boss man, let’s just get going."  A low murmur goes through the men.  "I know I know, but D team's running us ragged, at least we'll get some bonus pay for this."  Working in silence they surround the large group of fluffies.  Several dozen small fluff piles are soundly sleeping.  With the fifteen men surrounding the fluffies the work begins.

	Silently each man approaches the nearest pile and gently plucks one fluffy at a time from them.  Most are too groggy to realize they are floating away.  "hrm... huu? Who yu-" most don't make even this out as the machetes drop on their skulls.  Dull thuds float through the woods as fluffies are pulled from fluffy embraces.  After ten minutes a few fluffies have awoken and are mulling about concerned by the strange sounds.  "Fwiends otay?" "Nuu... guu way, tuu dawk... guu sweepies... *yawn* fwuffy... sweepies..."  As the scouts mill about the Harbingers remain quiet.  In the dark the still and silent Harbingers are invisible to the nearsighted fluffies.  Mangled bodies piled up to mimic sleeping fluffies are overlooked and the scouts who eventually go back to sleep with whoever is nearest.  Some even lie down next to corpses and snooze instantly.  The extermination continues. Then, a walkie talkie squawks and shatters the silence.

	Fluffies are instantly alerted and terrified.  Jayce left his radio on accidentally and fumbles to silence the loud voice speaking through.  "Shit, shit, shut the hell up, shit!"  The hissing shouts do little to help the situation. "Hewp! Munstas! Smawty sez Wun! Wun way! Fwuffies wun! Wu-" A spear silences the smarty friend, but his message is heard.  Nearly three hundred fluffies scatter.  Some are inevitably trampled but these few unlucky fluffies don't help the Harbingers troubles.  Groggy, tired, and grouchy the men attempt to herd the fluffies together with their bright flashlights but only manage to scatter them further.  The lack of manpower leaves too many gaps and soon more than half their prey escapes.  A sweep reveals around fifty fluffies trembling beneath bushes and in holes which are quickly dealt with, but this number is not even close to recouping their losses.  Defeated, the Harbingers let Jayce radio in the mission completion.  Contempt in their eyes they leave for home once more to sleep for a few hours before their shift in the morning.

	At the end of the week Drake receives a notification in his bank account, his paycheck.  Going through his accounts in his small office Drake notices that nearly five hundred dollars are missing.  Drake removes his cell phone and calls the office, "Hey, this is Drake... Yes I just have a question about the overtime pay... But, we were... Well yes a majority escaped... but... No, We weren't even... No... No... No... Well, yes but... no... *sigh*... But why haven't... You can't do that! I... RRrrgh!" Slamming his phone onto the table he retrieves his keys from the wall.  Driving recklessly he pulls up to the office complex to find all of the exterminators gathered outside.  The brisk weather stings their cheeks as they huddle in their jackets.  "Commander, what's going on?"  "I called just now and no one was willing to talk about any overtime."  "Yeah! We've been working our asses off what's going on?" Drake enters the office with the Harbingers in tow and finds the new manager in his office. "What the hell gives? You're gonna pull our pay?!"

	The gray haired man has a white collar, red tie, and black slacks.  His steely blue eyes betray his extensive managing experience, and his name plate reads Mr. Black. Without even looking up Mr. Black speaks to the small crowd in his smaller office, "You're government employees, this kind of strike isn't allowed under both state and national law.  Should you continue to neglect your duties I will be forced to take action right now."  Placing several files on the desk Mr. Black continues to speak all without looking up once, "These are the men who will replace you should you continue this unlawful strike."  The men are decked by this.  This forty something paper pusher just threatened fifteen former soldiers, mercenaries, exterminators, and a genuine psychopath at the drop of the hat. No banter, no lies, no bull shit.  Straight to the point and without batting an eye as his pen scribbles across the paper.  For an undetermined time everyone is silent trying to process the sheer size of Mr. Black's testicles.  The Rookie is the first to break the silence as his palms slam onto the large table.  "You're joking! We've been busting our asses out there and you're gonna deny us pay!" Looking up from his paper, a small smudge marring the official document, Mr. Black speaks clearly with a stony voice, "Young man, you'll refrain from such outbursts.  Your job is to kill these damn fluffies, and you've been missing your quotas by over a twenty percent marg-" Blake butts in, "That's bullshit and you know it! You're pulling us out for these missions at all fucking hours and you expect us to operate at optimal levels? Most of these guys are just civi-" Now it is Mr. Blacks turn to butt in, "I don't give a damn who these men are, it is within my power to call in night operations, and I intend to do so. If you have a problem with it the door is over there."

	And, like that the Harbingers were no more.  True to his word Mr. Black fired all of unit 7 after they walked out of his office and completely rebuilt the unit before the week was up.  And, though Mr. Black was eventually replaced none of the Harbingers returned to Unit 7.  A majority simply moved on to other extermination companies or agencies around the country.

	Jayce got a job with a new group of fluffy killers that called themselves ABUSE, but left after only one day working with them stating, "They're too weird for my taste.  Totally nutty." Last time any Harbingers saw him he was going on a date at the abusement park.

	The rookie eventually returned to college on scholarship.  He graduated with masters in law and political science. He would eventually become an independent Senator and lead the reform of the ENFF organization and operation, also he would be the deciding vote that finally legalized marijuana for personal use, and was most famous for shooting another senator in session at the end of his term.  Rumor has it the argument was over a fluffalo club sandwich.

	Blake used what pay he had to continue his globetrotting.  From time to time he would have to return to the US to make more money as a body guard, sushi chef, gambler, casino dealer, casino enforcer, and once as a Nickelodeon voice actor.

	Apparently Drake left after speaking to the rookie saying, "I'm only good at one thing and I can't run away from it any longer."  But, not before he burned down Mr. Black's house.  The police raided Drake's home and found nothing missing except a pair of dog tags from off the wall, and a majority of the liquor from his cellar.  Last anyone heard from Drake he was fighting in the new international battlegrounds over oil reserves in Africa.  Now, on the battlefields of men once more Drake is rebuilding his fearsome mercenary reputation.  A harbinger of men, a fire drake.