Work Text:
“Sooooooooooo.”
“Yeah.”
“This is a little… anticlimactic.”
“Yup.”
“Like, a lot anticlimactic. Not a clime in sight.”
“We get it, Ray, you’re bored.”
“Not to sound ungrateful or anything.”
“I’m sure you’re aware that prefacing your words with ‘not to sound ungrateful’ doesn’t actually stop you from sounding like an ungrateful piece of shit. Go on.”
“I’m just saying, Brad, the LT’s been running us ragged for the past two months. Least he could do was give us an actual war to fight in.”
“By ‘he’, are you referring to he, or to He?”
“Uh.”
“Just trying to understand whether I should prepare my squad for losing you due to a dressing down, or losing you due to lightening smitage.”
“Look, all I’m saying is, it would have been nice to be able to join in the battle is all, instead of having the weather do all the work for us.”
“Lightening it is, got it.”
“I just want to fight for my people, Brad. Instead, the rain and the flood are fighting for my people, and you know what I am?”
“Wet?”
“I’m wet, Brad. Ugh. I hope the water’s soaking all up in Sisera’s loincloths as much as it is in mine because it’s fucking uncomfortable.”
“Scribe, I hope you’re getting this down. Generations from now people will want to read of how we won the battle, and it will describe how on this day the earth trembled, the heavens also dropped, yea, the clouds dropped water, and so did the son of Agas’s sweaty loins. Poetry.”
“Okay, no, here’s what it will read: and on that day the son of Agas wanted to get some, for he was a born and bred farmer-hunter and maybe kind of an underdog but he was sick and tired of Hazorite oppression and taxes and he’d been enlisted by the messengers of the Lord, and he had worked his ass off sunrise to sunrise honing his skills, and he was ready to fight but day after day his commanding officers held off, and finally one day they said go forth onto Mount Tavor and get some. And so he climbed a motherfucking mountain, maybe more hill-sized if we’re honest about it, and he drew his sword, and then the rains came pouring down, and the river flooded, and nine hundred Hazorite iron chariots got stuck in the mud or swept off-path and flailed embarrassingly, fighting with the elements, as the son of Agas waited to see if there was anything substantial he could contribute to the victory, and he is still waiting awkwardly to this day.”
“All right, I’ll give you that. It’s anticlimactic. Now quit bitching before GM hears you. At least the view’s nice.”
“And the record showed: that on that day, the view was very nice.”