Playing With Fire

Posted on Wed Jan 23rd, 2013 @ 8:27am by Lieutenant Nick Marcinko & Major Patrick Smith

Mission: The Struggle Within
Location: Intelligence Offices
Timeline: Before "Prey In Sight"

Nick stepped off of the transporter pad and stormed out of the room for the turbolift. He’d been sent to Deck 18, the closest transporter room the Intelligence Offices, so the ride would be quick, but not quick enough for him. He paced the empty lift like a caged lion as thoughts of what might happen with Leto and Zoudin raced through his mind, making him more and more enraged. When the lift finally stopped on deck 33, he roared in frustration, startling several people passing by. They were even more startled when they didn’t get out of his way fast enough and he shouldered past them, almost knocking a few over.

Ignoring their words, he marched into Patrick’s office and tossed the recorder on the desk.

“I’m through with this shit,” he said. “Find someone else to finish up because I’m done.”

He turned to walk out as Smith spoke.

“Hold it,” the Lieutenant instructed. “Firstly I rather suspect I know what “shit” you're referring to though I’m going to guess not what's on there. Secondly I didn’t figure you to be the type who quit when things get tough,” Pat commented attempting to bait him into revealing his frustrations.

“You don’t know a goddamn thing,” Nick countered, “and secondly, fuck you. I’d like to see you weather something like this with all of the grace and serenity that you seem to like regurgitating on everyone else, you little dipshit.”

Nick knew he was playing with fire cursing at his department head like that, but he didn’t care. He didn’t like him, for starters, and he didn’t care if he wound up in the brig. Frankly, it would keep him from beating the shit out of everyone else he saw on the way back to his quarters.

“Oh I rather think I do know a few things, albeit less about intel. That being said when I flew I didn’t abandon my wingman because thats how someone gets killed,” Patrick stated bluntly putting his hands on the back of his chair. “And now one of my Officers is down on a planet with people who are on a killing spree while her backup is up here huffing because he doesn't’ like her methods, ones which most intelligence operatives, including yourself I’d wager, use throughout their service.”

“Like I said, you don’t know a goddamn thing! Besides, you’ve got all kinds of other ‘wingmen’ that you can send down there to creep. Hell, it’s been less than five minutes since I left! Last time I checked they weren’t going back to his place for a sacrificial murder, so let’s keep the fucking dramatics to a minimum.” He paused and then thought he’d better add, “Sir.”

He paced like a caged animal then stopped and punched the wall several times while growling loudly. “Fuck!”

"Oh yea I've got plenty of others but I need the best down there and that's supposed to be you. Now do us a favour and sit down, calm down and lets sort this out," Pat half instructed as he reached into his desk and pulled out two whiskey glasses and a bottle. "Don't feel obliged to drink. But I certainly think we can sit down and talk about this properly."

Watching as his boss poured two glasses and set the bottle down, Nick promptly took the bottle and sat, taking a large swig of the contents. "I am the best, and you damn well know it, but I can't do everything. Let one of these rugrats running around here do some fucking work for a change." He took another large drink and wiped his mouth on his forearm. "Okay, so you want to know what's going on, do you? How's this: I finally, in my long, sordid life of fuckin' and shuckin', have found a woman that I want to keep. Forever! No cheating, no 'strange' on the side like I used to--nothin'. She made me make that promise to her, you see," he said, gulping more whiskey down. "But apparently it doesn't fucking apply to her! As long as it's while performing her duties as an intelligence officer, she can ride as many swingin' cocks as she wants...and little old cuckolded Nick has to record it for posterity." He leaned forward, his face a mix of rage, deep sadness and confusion and asked, "Now, Looo-tenant...how the fuck do you think that makes me feel? Do you have some sage words of wisdom from your tens of years in this universe?"

Pat lifted his own glass as Nick talked and drunk from the bottle. "Probably not. For now however I need you down there although I think that I'll also join you so you don't have to do the recording. Once we are done then I suggest you sit down and talk about this with her. And a proper chat," Pat continued before Nick could jump in, "One which doesn't involve a lot of shouting. Just lay the cards out on the table."

Nick slunk into the chair. "I can't yell at her," he said stoically. "At least I don't think I can. I love her too much." The room was quiet as Nick's first time of showing any vulnerability to Patrick hit like a lead balloon. Regaining his senses, Nick blurted out, "And fuck you, man. I'm not going back down there. I've been there day and my shift is over. If you want to get all pervy and listen to 'em fucking, be my guest. Apparently it's open season on Leto's hoo-ha, no matter what ol' Nicky wants!"

He got up and stormed out of Patrick's office to the turbolift and aimed it to the deck near his quarters. He felt miserable, he felt betrayed and he wanted to kill someone in a bad way.

Shaking his head Pat reached forward and grabbed Nicks glass and pinned it back. "Well that's going to be messy," he thought out loud to himself. Grabbing the recorder he played back the recording that had temporarily broken Nick. When he was finished he stood and left his office signalling to one of the other officers to get his ship ready to leave for the surface while he himself went to get changed into something more suitable.


---------------------------
MCPO Nick Marcinko
One Angry Motherfucker

&

Lieutenant Patrick Smith
Down One Whiskey Bottle