The Characterisation of Annabelle le Roux

Chapter Eighteen: A promise kept

Everybody was surprised with the swiftness that the Mamlish back up forces came to the island. It was only a few days before on the horizon sails could be seen. Annabelle now led the children's army that had been organised by Veronique. They gathered on the beach and everybody had a position and a role.

To attack the incoming fleets would require precision. It wouldn't be the random flinging things around method that she had used when she had attacked the Lesser lord George and his minions. She would need to know where the boats came where coming from and where they were going to. How many of them there would be and where the people would try and escape to.

Veronique and Ferne' stood atop the rocks with binoculars. They used flags to send messages back and forth to Annabelle.

Annabelle didn't like it. She was worried that the Mamlish who are on the island would be able to figure out the code and be able to warn the incoming Mamlish of their attacks, but on the other hand she didn't have a faster way to communicate and she needed to be up to date with the information.

Annabelle started to line up the catapults. Some of the workers stuffed jewellery, knick-knacks and extra socks into hard balls that they would use as ammunition in the catapults. She thought to herself with a chuckle that the Mamlish will rue the day that the forced the sheepherdless of Zilby to buy more stuff than they could afford.

"Forty three" she said out aloud as she looked towards Veronique on the rocks. "All armed, have guns, will land in 1 hour, 45min"

"How much gun powder will we need, Roger" Annabelle called out to her resident calculator.

"Three kegs at 36° aim. 600m short. Now!" Roger worked with remarkable mental dexterity.

"John, take note and respond immediately. Graham, pay attention to everything that Roger commands you" said Annabelle in a firm manner.

"Graham 35° aim, thirty seconds after Roger, point towards the second ship. Now!"

"Phillip, follow Graham's lead" said Annabelle and Roger nodded in agreement.

The men ran off to shoot at the enemy. There was a terse moment or two before the bangs of the bomb hit the first boat right where the captain's cabin sat. The boat split into two. The whole beach burst into laughter as they saw the small cabins of the fighters, stacked with beds to the roof, the dining hall, the bathrooms and the very many storerooms. Everyone was relieved to know that regardless of the result of the day's battle, there were guns and more importantly bullets sinking into the deep dark ocean.

"All fighters are putting on life jackets" signalled Veronique "Beware, more are looking into their gunsights"

"Roger" cried Annabelle "One ship down, forty-two more to go"

"The ships will have to have slow down now because of all the debris in the ocean. Fire at 36°, three kegs, 350m short Now!"

The shots volleyed off, hitting the third ship's main cannon that then exploded causing three other ships to catch alight. Immediately men on the adjacent ships started to fire gunshots towards the beach. Terror broke out on the beach.

With a nod from Roger, Annabelle called out "Relax, we are 50% outside their maximum range."

Veronique started signally frantically. "Oh no" cried out Annabelle "They're bringing out the blaster."

The blaster was a laser instrument that concentrated heat. Sometimes it caused a ball of fire so hot that it was said that nothing could grow ever again in the spot that the ball hit. It was also said that strange things happened to those who saw the blast attack. Some who survived the blast would get a condition where there blood would grow weak and they would fade away in the weeks after the attack. Even more scary though were the rumours that the children who were born to those who had seen the blast had extra fingers and toes. All agreed that the blast was a cruel instrument and its use was most unethical, even during war.

"We need a way of diverting the attack." Said Annabelle "A way of making sure that we don't see anything, and it backfires on them"

"But how" said Roger – he was brilliant at fast calculations but less so at strategy.

"Mirrors" said Annabelle in a simple answer that critics of the show would later condemn as a little bit pat. "We will use mirrors"

She turned her head to a corner of the beach where a full consignment of body length mirrors sat.

"Quick everybody grab one" Annabelle commanded.

All the people took a mirror and then without instruction huddled together and crouch down into tortoise shell like formation.

The blast hit, there was no impact shockwave or sound. One could be lulled into thinking that area was safe. The bright light seemed like a welcome reward for a life well lived.

Annabelle started counting on her fingers. She had seen the laser that had made the blast and the amount of fuel that on board the ship at the ready. She reckoned that the blast would only last for four or five seconds.

"One, two, three, four, five."

"Get back to your posts. We've got an enemy to destroy"

But when they came out, they saw that their defence had worked better than expected. The entire fleet was burning. Only one small ship managed to escape and said over the horizon.

"Shoot them" said Annabelle "Shoot the bastards, take them all drown."

There were many people floating on the water were the boats had once been. Some tried to swim to the shore, while others clung despondently to the debris, hoping against hope that somebody would swim out and rescued them.

"You've done it" said a foot soldier that Annabelle didn't recognise, slapping Annabelle on the shoulder. "You've prevented the invasion.

Whenever James watched videos like the one he had just seen, he reminded himself that the worst thing that could happen when somebody saw his work, was not to have them hate it, but rather for them to forget it and even worse than that was for them to have no reaction at all.

It was hard to remember this when confronted by all the hatred, not to back down and say "Sure, sure, you are right, I will tone it down.

Still there was another voice inside this head that did not have an ego that was four sizes too large. He knew that other people saw gaps in his storylines that he didn't. In the past when he had worked on scripts, he had an infinite amount of time to tweak them just the way that he wanted, to edit and change the wording, so that they were exactly in character, so that set the mood and atmosphere and brought to the hearer's mind the correct image, the one that had been planted there by a thousand clever allusions and subtly suggestions.

Now everything that to be written on the fly, a whole pile of words had to be written by the end of the day. There was only so long that you could drag scenery descriptions and put action words into fighting scenes for. The scenery department liked to complain "You need to give us descriptions that we can work with, otherwise we are going to keep dragging you into meetings to discuss whether you meant crimson or maroon when you said red."

Then there was the problem of the actors who kept messing up his plans, they kept on messing up his plans, saying things in the wrong tone or at the wrong time – they started to influence his ideas of the characters.

Especially Andrew, Andrew ruined his plans more than any of the other characters ever had.

Characters didn't just die like that, well they do- but only after James had after careful consideration to the plot, decided to kill them, and when he decided to kill them, he could always second guess himself and bring them back to life – provided it hadn't gone out to air yet.