Summary: A fanfiction starring Maladicta, Mary, and a pair of boots.
Characters: Maladicta, Mary
Rating: B
Notes: Please forgive me, this was written at eleven o'clock last night when my writing exercise book told me to write about a scene where a pair of shoes figures prominently. I'm not sure what rank Maladicta is, and I don’t think Mary had a last name in MR, so I just gave her one. This fanfiction has been reread and rewritten enough times to fry my brain, so even if it's silly it will be well written and silly.

Disclaimer: All characters in this fanfiction are © Terry and Lyn Pratchett, as is Discworld.

Boots
by Carmen Aistrup

"Private Ren!"

"Yes, Sarge?" said the young woman standing in front of Sergeant Maladicta.

"What is this, Mary?" The voice was cold and clear and certainly not joking around.

"Your boots, ma'am?"

"Don't ma'am me, Private. Sir is respectful, ma'am sounds condescending."

"Yes, sir."

"Right. Now, what do you immediately notice about these boots?"

Mary swallowed and looked at what the Sergeant was holding. It wasn't that there was anything particularly frightening about the boots. The frightening part was the hand that was holding the boots, or more precisely the person the hand was attached to.

And the word 'person' being used lightly.

Mary looked up at the face of a vampire, who's glare(1) caused her gaze to quickly fall back down to the boots. Sergeant Maladicta wasn't cruel, but she liked certain things as they should be. Mary had a pretty sure feeling that Maladicta didn't like this.

Mary had the mistaken idea that she could work around the problem. "Well.. They're rather old. Perhaps you should get a new pair, sir?"

"Don't make things worse, Private. When did you start taking everything I say so literally?"

"Sir?"

"Now, I don't mind you taking my lessons literally, they'll probably save you from going hungry and might save you from having to eat your own leg one day. But you must have misheard me, because I don't remember saying anything about my boots."

"Well, um.." Mary had been getting more and more flustered as this went on, and her face was slowly turning red. "Uh, Thomas, well, he dared-"

"I didn't ask you about Thomas. What I'm wondering is how you're going to do to make up for this?"

Maladicta flipped the books over and Mary watched with widening eyes as the contents of the boots splashed on the ground.

"However you want, sir."

Maladicta grinned, something truly frightening to behold. As was mentioned, Maladicta like things the way they should be and if things weren't the way they should be, someone would be paying for it.

And there most definitely shouldn't be soup in her boots.

(1)Vampires have an impressive glare, and Maladicta wasn't shy about using it.

---

I hope everyone understood that. I was reffering to when Corporal Scallot tells them to "Fill yer pack with grub. Fill yer hat with grub. Fill yer boots with soup!" And I'm assuming that Maladicta passed that useful bit of knowlege on to her own regiment. Mary was one of the two girls who joined up at the very end of MR, if you dont remember. Writing exercises are unhealthy. Compliments, cupcakes, critiques and flames welcome.