Disclaimer: I don't really need to put this up here, do I? I think it's just a relic from my days of shitting out Trek fics. And if you don't know that Victor Hugo wrote Les Miserables, you probably won't get much from this story. The plot is based on a funny, funny Babylon 5 story called "Killing the Captain", by I don't remember who. I will link to the story as soon as I can find it again, because everyone should read it. I also have to thank Nawy a lot for this one... it's what his Star Wars story would be if it were short and Les Mis.

Apologies: This is a side of me that most people never see, the stoned off my ass on cough syrup side. Because it's so damn fun to be sick, here's a story from the blackest depths of my mind. Apologies to the author of "Killing the Captain", in case you mind that I used your plot. If you see this and get mad, mail me and I'll take it down. Also to those rabid Enjy freaks who don't think that he and Grantaire would ever do anything like this. Oh yeah... and this fic is meant as purely comedic violence, on the level of Itchy and Scratchy. I do not condone violence in any way, shape, or form.

"Planning planning planning!" yelled Enjolras "I am sick and tired of planning!" The cafe was officially closed, and empty except for Chowder and Fricasse, who were downstairs sweeping the floor, and Grantaire, passed out by the window. Enjolras only freaked out when he was alone, because he didn't want to shatter his upright image. The truth was, he was really severely emotionally repressed and could only express himself in violent rages, and one of those rages was coming on now. He kicked a table. "I am tired of waiting." he shouted. "I want to kill people now!"

A bottle slid across the floor and hit him in the foot. He looked across the room to see Grantaire, sprawled on the floor and smiling blearily at him. "If you're going to kill people," slurred Grantaire, "have a little drink fursht."

The intrusion shocked Enjolras back to sanity. "You're nuts." he said. "Drunk and raving. I'm not going to kill people." Nevertheless, he picked up the bottle and took a drink from it. Then he crossed the room and picked up Grantaire, hauled him across the room by the arms, and deposited him near a table so that his back was against the leg. "Chowder!" he called down the stairs. When Chowder's hideous head appeared at the door, Enjolras ordered some coffee for Grantaire. With Enjolras drinking brandy and Grantaire coffee, both soon reached the same state of drunkenness.

"Are you sure," asked Grantaire, "that you don't want to kill just a few people?"

Enjolras considered. It had been a long time since he'd had a violent rage, and his emotions were getting stronger and stronger. He would really need to go on a rampage soon. And the time for revolution didn't seem to be growing any closer... Suddenly, an idea sprang to Enjolras's brandy-addled brain. "I know!" he shouted. "Let's kill General Lamarque!"

Chez Lamarque. 2:45 am

"Excuse me." Enjolras said to the porter. They had agreed that he would do all the talking, because he was the smart and pretty one, while Grantaire was just drunk. "Excuse me, we are here to kill General Lamarque."

"Sure. Go on up." said the porter, who was paid less than minimum wage and was not happy about it.

At the General's bedroom door, Grantaire and Enjolras took out their weapons. Enjolras had a pair of pistols, and Grantaire had a long samurai sword. With a swift application of boot to doorknob, Grantaire kicked down the door and they were in the room.

General Lamarque was in bed. He didn't look well. The two would-be killers were momentarily humbled by the sight of the great man, and stopped dead in their tracks. Then, Enjolras saw that General Lamarque was just as old and decrepit as his grandmother, who never baked him cookies and used to hit him with her cane. Enjolras raised his arm and fired, and General Lamarque fell back on his pillow, a hole directly between his eyes. As Grantaire watched admiringly, Enjolras drew back the gun and blew the smoke away from the muzzle.

"Enjolras..." Grantaire's voice came from close behind him. Enjolras turned around,and suddenly found himself slammed against a wall with Grantaire kissing him. When Grantaire finally let go, both were more than a little flustered.

"We should do that again." said Enjolras, with a not-so-very-sane glint in his eye.

Grantaire smiled wickedly. "What, killing people, or... that?"

"Well....both." said Enjolras, as he went through Lamarque's stuff. He found a funny looking coat, a large horse-pistol, an old Waterloo sword, and four bottles of grain liquor and rainwater. He put the bottles in the pockets of the coat and threw the whole thing at Grantaire, who put it on. Then he put Lamarque's pistol in his pocket and gave his pistols to Grantaire. Enjolras wrapped his arm around Grantaire's waist, and they returned to the streets of Paris.

The Barricades. 6:30 pm

"Where were you two?" asked Feuilly, looking up from the game of cards he was playing with Bahorel and Courfeyrac. "You missed the first attack."

Enjolras grinned an evil grin. If he told Feuilly and the rest what he and Grantaire had been doing... but the barricade, with its firearms and powder barrels, provided a tempting opportunity for more carnage. There was apparently a sort of lull between attacks; only the odd shot could be heard from the other barricades in other quartiers.

Suddenly, it seemed the street filled with guardsmen, and the blue-coated ranks advanced upon the Rue de la Chanvrererie. Like ants, they swarmed over the barricade and surrounded the hopelessly outnumbered students. Enjolras could do nothing as one National Guard leveled his gun at Gavroche, and another one advanced on Courfeyrac with his bayonet. Then, a voice rang out- "Begone, or I'll blow up the barricade!"

The soldiers fled, and the students surrounded Marius, pounding him on the back and congratulating him. Enjolras, again the aloof leader, scaled the barricade to act as a lookout. As he arranged himself apon the hazardous summit, a voice from below said, "Get clear."

Grantaire was crouched between two of the wine-casks that formed the base of the barricade. He was tying a long length of fuse to another long length of fuse. The second length was connected to the barrel of powder Marius had used to threaten the Guard. Ever sensible, Enjolras retreated to the smaller barricade. Soon, Grantaire joined him, fuse in one hand, match in the other. "You're not going to blow it up." said Enjolras, laughing hysterically in a way that implied he wouldn't mind at all if Grantaire did, in fact blow up the barricade.

"Watch me." grinned Grantaire, as he lit the fuse.

Seconds later, a voice that sounded like Combeferre's said, "Oh shit." There was a great clamor from the direction of the larger barricade, and then a loud bang. Flaming timbers flew over the roof of the Corinth, and several men in National Guard uniforms pushed past Enjolras and Grantaire, blind panic visible on their faces.

Enjolras stared adoringly at Grantaire. "That was so cool." he breathed.

Grantaire grinned and took Enjolras by the hand. "You ain't seen nothing yet" he said as he led his idol and lover away from the mayhem.

As dawn broke, the two men were standing on the outskirts of Paris, watching the sun rise. "What do you want to do now?" asked Grantaire, leaning his head against Enjolras's shoulder.

"Let's leave the city." replied Enjolras. "We've got a body count probably in the double digits... it would be better if we didn't stay." He flicked his glowing cigarette into a nearby sewer grate and put his arm around Grantaire. The two walked slowly along the road out of Paris.

Beneath the city, the cigarette ignited the inflammable methane gas released by the tons of human waste in the parisian sewers. The happy couple continued walking, oblivious, as Paris erupted in flames.