LOCKED-DOWN
“… I gave you a fair warning, beware…”
The Windjammer Ballroom, Guantanamo Bay Naval Base
8 Nov 2019, Afternoon
…
..
.
Marines don’t believe in microphones.
All they have in the field are their guns, their crew, and their big boy voice; and they don’t lower ’em for no one.
Gunnery Sergeant Nettleton is on stage, loud and proud; animated in front of the American and Marine Corps colors, and a PowerPoint presentation that fills the movie screen.
He’ll occasionally point his massive sausage fingers at the crowd as he delivers his lines.
No crutch, no script, spit spouting, while lights reflect off his bald head.
“The Geneva Convention says YOU, as a Lawfully Recognized Warfighter, only has to give up your: Rank, Full Name, Date of Birth, Social Security number, Blood type, and that’s fkn it!”
From the corner of his eye, he catches someone lowering their head slowly, like a robot powering down.
The over-built Gunny in his MARPAT greens angrily jumps down and attacks the front row; scaring awake the service member that were dozing off.
The mixed services in the back can make out Gunny’s veins on his neck and forehead as he shouts with his double knife hands at the hapless kid in front of him.
“YOUR JOB is to stay alive, our job is to come after YOU!”
The theater is now wide awake and on full alert; some members pull out their pads and start taking notes.
Gunny eases off the front row and checks the filled seats for any other head bobblers.
Lifting his hands and brows inquisitively, he asks
“Y’all wanna know how one guy saved his team out there?”
Stillness grips the audience, all assholes on deck were puckered tight.
Gunny calmly patrols the edges while lecturing,
“This PFC understood the assignment and put his BOOGER SMEARS all up on the windows and sill.
We scraped off the DNA and tracked that sht like a crumb trail on every raid until we found ’em.
We kicked in the doors and came for our boys.
WE-were-able-to-do-our-JOB, because he did his!
Now that’s, what we call, doing what it takes to be a mthrfkn HERO!
Cuz in this country, NO MARINE IS LEFT BEHIND!
Claps scatter about, a few spectators held their tears back.
Gunny followed through with an almost chastising tutorial on what to do if caught:
“Now bring it close, bring it in, listen here devil-dogs,”
The room leans in,
“I know this is gonna be hard to hear for all you tough guys out here, but this might save your life and crew someday.
They hit you, you don’t say sht, you definitely don’t wanna reward them for hurting you- don’t be an idiot.
Instead; you exaggerate that PAIN.
You let them know with tears in your eyes that you wanna help, but gee-golly it’s hard to think when you’re getting whacked over the head.
Turn your sensitivity levels up, and when they ask you for what you know, downplay-your-role!”
The gunny shrugs his shoulder as if it were common sense,
“You’re just a Sergeant or a Lance-Coolio, show yourself as a dumb ass jarhead with family and friends back home that miss you, tell them that you’re a bad-ass cook, or a pogue refueler.
Field questions are top brass level info and you’re just a humvee driver or something right?”
Head nods can be felt here and there,
“They don’t know that we train our killers from the private level on up to win the battles that win the wars:
They don’t know about the JJ DID TIE BUCKLE and every Marine a Rifleman and sht like that. They-don’t-understand what makes us the President’s own, Rah!?
The JTF members in the crowd also echo the Marine’s “RAH!!!!”
A random Marine yells out “Yuuuuuut!”
Gunny takes the room back with a softer touch,
“And remember ladies and Marines, before you recycle your toothbrush to spring outta your cuffs, pick jail-cell doors and go sneaking up on guards;
shanking them in the kidneys and snapping necks and whatnot,
ask yourself one important question…”
Dead quiet before the question, nobody’s breathing.
Gunny scans the eyes in the rooms and in a low tone asks,
“Do I feel like my life is in danger???”
…Silence, a pin drop is heard somewhere before he erupts in violent theatrics, “cus if the answer’s yes; then SNAP THE FK AWAAAAAY!!!!”
The crowd goes wild.
Gunny matches their volume, “ONE MIND, ANY WEAPON!!!”, and flexes his massive biceps against his tightly rolled sleeves.
Throughout the commotion and members speaking to each other, Gunny checks his phone and puts his hand up; then lowers it slowly, “…As you were…”
The audience tones down for his announcement as he puts his phone back in his pocket.
“Alright, good to go. Be advised to sign the attendance rosters going around to make sure you’re officially certified in Level B Code of Conduct and Survival training.
Next presentation will be for the Marines and specific Joint Task Force members that’ll be EOSing the next few weeks. The SIERRA officer will be going over some good knowledge for you so pay the fk attention, then we’ll be clear hot.
Rest of you go to your squad leaders and units for head counts and further instructions; Can I get an “Aye Gunny?”
The room shouts “AYE GUNNY” as they get up and disperse.
Some servicemen of all ranks and ages quickly run up to get Gunny’s attention before he ducks out.
They reach out and nervously shake his hand, and share that they had family that were POWs and served in WW2, Vietnam, Korea or some other less popular theater, and appreciated his class.
Others want to know what his whey protein brand of choice is.
The Gunny soon excuses himself, he got a text from a doctor on the base he occasionally smashes in secret.
He was also supposed to call his wife and congratulate their daughter on being accepted to the cheerleading squad back in Cherry Point.
The text looks urgent, “Meet me at the Chapel, I’ll be there presto @ 1630. Don’t mess this up”
He checks, and passively admires, his officially licensed pro-tek USMC wristwatch, a gift that happened to come from the doctor herself.
The hands circling the EGA inform he’s got a little over an hour.
He reckons he’ll apologise tomorrow or the day after to his wife and kids; let them know he was dealing with another terrorist interrogation or something and was unable to use his phone again.
He contemplates getting McDonald’s or some Jamaican TCN food to kill a little time.
Weighing his options and situation, he decides that the Jerk House is more appropriate, Rasta Hill would risk him being late for the meet.
He chows down, licks his fingers, and before making his way to the Chapel of Our Lady of Cobre, he pauses at a small flower shop.
Something inside him tells him not to be an idiot; Dr. Strega-Cortes isn’t a girly-girl.
He understands his position isn’t much more than a disposable fuck-boy at the heart of it.
She would likely give him that fake smile, say “aww thanks, you shouldn’t have”, and trash it the first opportunity she has while he’s not there.
Still though, what’s a little swooning? See what happens.
He decides on an overpriced bouquet of roses, turnips and sunflowers to be tied together.
Then asks for it to be put in a box and wrapped in brown paper to keep it low-key.
“Here’s to nothing, maybe”, he reasons to himself.
Gunny makes it to the chapel and takes a seat in one of the lacquered wood pews in the back row; stereotypically 15 minutes early to the 15 minutes early expectation.
She’s not there.
Meeting Dr. Strega-Cortes always gets him a bit nervous, something about her unique perspectives and no-nonsense approach.
He kills time, playing flappy bird on his phone, figuring that he’s likely to get some tonight and rethinking that the flowers were a stupid impulse buy that might ruin a good thing.
He doesn’t really know who she is or what exactly she does.
This always has him feeling off balance.
Plus, she’s a superior; he’s technically fraternizing in a place where everyone knows each other.
Fortunately, she’s from some obscure camp somewhere and visits infrequently.
He concludes the same as every time before. She’s worth the-
The Doctor comes up from behind and sits right next to him. She’s wearing unassuming fatigues with brass chevrons and smells expensive.
He plays it cool and says “Hey-“
but is cut off, “We have a problem. I’d like to ask you if you’re willing and able to crack a high value detainee”
Gunny was taken back a moment, he put the box of flowers to the side, “Right, business. Sorry, I was-“
“What’s that?”, she orders, “Open it”.
Gunny sheepishly opens it up.
She rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath before speaking,
“We got a real problem.”
She unpacks a rugged laptop and gives him a speedy debrief of the situation.
Multiple base security footages are on screen.
The collection of recordings from various dates and times outlines a barely detectable and cautious man limping and sneaking around.
Dr. Strega-Cortes informs, “So, it looks like he capitalized on any stormy days and night fog to get around. We don’t know how long he’s been here, we figure at least a month.”
Gunny chips in, alarmed, “That there”, he points to the screen, “He’s setting up cameras or mics himself. Our bargain-bin spy here’s gotta have a little makeshift pad somewhere; .
Who’s he with, the Hajis? How’d you catch him?”
The doctor puts her hand on his knee, “He was in my lab space. This asshole gave himself a tour.
I had some hidden cameras in place years ago and my agents nabbed him.
He surrendered immediately, with a weapon on him.”
Gunny nods and places his hand over hers, “you okay?”
Dr. Strega-Cortes shakes her head,
“No, I’m not. I’m insulted by the low quality security we got going around here, it’s unsat. That was too close for comfort from some lepper-pirate looking freak.
Anyways, this was 3 days ago. We got him doped out and on a feeding tube while we figure this all out. I have a friend coming in soon. I’d like you to meet him.”
Gunny’s surprised he’s being asked to help while at the same time another person is inbound,
“Do we need him? I’m pretty sure a couple of hours of walling this guy in camp 7, spread out between a few weeks of solitary oughta be enough to get him to spill the beans.
The way I see it, we find out who he’s been communicating with and bring it up to-“
He’s stopped in his tracks as Dr. Strega squeezes slightly further up mid-thigh,
“It’s not that simple. This particular bad-guy is particularly high value and needs a surgical touch in an isolated environment.
Before I potentially waste my time, I have to know, are you in or out?”
Gunny’s thoughts are racing, he sits up erect as he doesn’t want to appear soft.
He knows full well torturing some suspects takes a lot of time and effort while yielding unpredictable results.
Plus, he had 5 months left in this Gitmo tour and promised the family he would look into recruiting duty before retiring at the 20 yr mark, only 3 yrs away.
She continues to persuade,
“I’ll be upfront. American interests and our way of life are in danger. This is a presidential priority.
You help us write down what exactly is going on in his head, and you can name your price”, She counts off starting with her thumb, “Meritorious promotion, LATMOV options, early retirement, big bonus checks, and selfies with the president himself if you’re into that. Just name it.”
She maintains eye contact as he speaks,
“I’m in. And you know I’m all about that honor, courage and commitment but… …what about us?”
She releases her grip on his thigh and slaps his shoulder.
“Tell you what ya big loaf. Join us, and I’ll let you move on from licking my boots to something nicer, capisce?”
Gunny smirks, he likes and capisce what he’s hearing.
“This commitment’s projected to take a few months, shouldn’t even be close to a year. But it’s going to be full radio-silence, no contact with friends and family, so it might feel like forever.
You sure you can commit? There’s no room for half-way decisions here. I’m hoping you’re as good as your file says you are, so, can I trust you?”
“Rah, this old Marine’s still got some fight in him. I’m on board, all the way, whatever it takes Ma’am”, Gunny catches himself, “Wait, you have access to my-
“I have access to whatever I want. If you’re in, then lets-“
Her radio makes static noises and beeps, <<<“Cold Medina, Halo Noble. Cold Medina, Halo Noble, ETA 15 minutes, how copy”>>>
Dr. Strega replies, >>>”Halo Noble, Cold Medina. Right on schedule, see you at the smoke pit”,
She winks at Gunny and ends with, “Clear hot, copy?”<<<
<<< Good copy, out >>>
She stands above Gunny and invites him to the quad Gator UTV outside,
“Let’s ride and chat. Bring the flowers with you”
Gunny picks up the unwrapped flowers and tags along.
Dr. Strega drives them past a couple of checkpoints.
She slows down and the guards quickly wave her by.
She explains over the noise of the road,
“Right. So this particular rat was caught before, around 2014, doing the same thing he did here.”
She passes him a sealed water bottle, “Except, in Diego Garcia he blinded half their security and sabotaged our weapons center to the point it was rendered… …how is it you Marines, say”, She shakes her head chuckling, “FUBAR, am I right?”.
“That’s right. Fckd up beyond all repair. So he blinded them… …how?”
“Lasers. He waltzed up with some cool shades and twirling around with an over-powered laser pointer like some kind of lightsaber.
Blinded some guards for life before they knew what hit ’em; the few he left alive anyways. Open that up for me would ya please.”
Gunny’s processing the intruder’s modus operandi, opens the water bottle and takes a sip, “The balls on this guy. That’s a UN war crime right out the gate inside our house. This boy doesn’t play by the rules. So what weapons were-“
Dr. Strega slapped Gunny in the gut and opened her hand, “I don’t mind sharing, I just appreciate when my can-openers ask for permission first. That make sense to you?”
Gunny coughs and apologises as he hands over the doctor her water back.
She takes a sip, enjoying the ice bits inside for a moment before continuing,
“So he gets transported to Thailand, a place called Cat’s Eye season 2. Short story made even shorter, within a year Haspel made the mistake of getting too close, got her nose busted, and a few days later the whole base was scrubbed clean. We have nothing solid from his time there.
Some agents went dead, some agents went missing, and to this day remains my favorite episode of unsolved mysteries.”
Gunny recognizes Camp Delta as they approach the gate.
“That’s one soapy mthrfkr… …Haspel? The CIA top kahuna?”
Dr Strega rolls her eyes, she knows her personally, “The one and only. Apparently he hit her hard enough to erase what he looked like in her mind.
But wait, there’s more, he’s slippier than that.
Darvok got to figuring out he was heading west and was on the money.
He intercepted him between Liberia and the Ivory Coast in 2017, but he slipped again.
So far what we got is the indication that he was in Brazil in 2019, likely took the Venezuela-Guyana fence on his way up, before visiting us here.
Gunny puts some pieces together, “Well god-damn, he exploits the jurisdictional seams along the borders for cover, he’s safer on the ratline. To pull moves like that, you gotta use a boat, no way he came by air and… …who’s Darvok?”
“Our friend, the only other guy I trust. Marine, like you.”
She slows the gator down so she can be heard better, “I’m sure you’ll get along fine. If I had to describe him to you in a few words, I’d say he’s a hunter. A hunter you don’t wanna cross.”
Gunny asks, “And how would you describe me to him?”
“He’s going to be glad you joined us. You got that loyalty to God and Country, exactly what we’re going to need to beat the sudsing out this scum-bag.”
Gunny smirks, satisfied, “God bless mah ‘Merica”.
He feels good that his record and rep as a warrior of duty and faith finally got the attention of higher ups.
He inquires as they keep riding along roads and dirt paths, “Ehr, what’s the detainee’s game exactly? Run scores on a black site, reset if he’s got the clovers, then try again somewhere else?”
“No. The real threat is that he’s a nobody that somehow tapped deep into the
Ideological warfare space. He’s got followers that make suicide bombers look like dollar store roman candles.
He’s even got Marines to go AWOL and join networks all over the place. Straight up, we have no real clue yet how compromised we are. See the issue?”
…Mumbling low, in a bit of shock and disbelief, Gunny couldn’t imagine that any Marine would desert to some random pirate…
While heading towards an AM2 landing pad and refueling station, 3 helicopters can be seen coming in from above.
They park the Gator by the smoke pit and hop out.
There’s 5 refueler Marines smoking and joking while the other shift handles the birds.
As Gunny and the doctor pull up, the Marines put their smokes down and salute the doctor and give the Gunny his proper greeting of the day.
Dr. Strega quickly gets close to the face of the Sergeant, the highest rank amongst them, while he still has his arm flat against the brim of his cover.
In a firm and unmistakably angry tone she lets know, “We don’t salute out here in the field dip-sht. You trying to get me tagged? Did I do something wrong to deserve that? Do we have a problem?”
The Sergeant shakes his head stiffly, “No Ma’am, won’t happen again ma’am”, they all lower their salute awkwardly.
She visibly relaxes and says out loud, “Aaaaaat eease gents; as you were. All’s well that ends well or whatever.
Look, I got a problem. I could use a smoke, anyone offering?”
A dark-green Lance Corporal pulls out a box of Newports. A corn-fed Corporal offers Marlboro lights.
Dr. Strega takes a Newport from the selection, specifically, the only one that was inverted, and the Sergeant does the honors of lighting it.
They offer to Gunny, who was looking down on them in disappointment with his hands on his hips, ready to snap on them.
He kept his cool, though. Doctor’s orders.
Softening up, he looks to the PFC with a bulge in his mouth, and in a small growl declares “I’ll have what he’s having”.
The PFC passes Gunny some dip, which he turns and snaps the can a few times with his index finger before stuffing some tobacco inside his bottom lip.
Gunny doesn’t notice Dr. Strega looking at him with momentary disgust.
A man approaches from the helicopter pads in business casual, with a revolver resting in its shoulder holster and an hk416 strung cross-body.
Behind him is a slightly smaller man with a boonie worn low over his eyes and carrying an ILBE rucksack, sea bag, laptop case, gift bag and ammo box, with almost uncanny ease.
Far behind them, 4 prisoners in orange suits with hands shackled behind them and black bags over their heads are being escorted out of the choppers by 6 agents.
They handle the blind and weighed prisoners by the neck as they’re rushed into a white utility van with no windows.
Strega playfully challenges the young group in the pit as the men get closer, “Hey Marines, you ever meet a super-spook before? Go ahead, ask him what 3 letter agency he’s with.”
The armed man tells the porter to sit by himself in the next smoke pit over as he struts-up and talks to the crew.
“I saw y’all salute from up there”, He does a mock salute to all of them while flashing an amused smile and a mechanical prosthetic hand,
“I’m surprised y’all chuckle heads are still alive.”
The Marines laugh a bit uneasy.
The PFC can’t contain himself,
“Whoah! A fkn robot hand!? Looks like that that, ehr, android thing from the terminator,that’s fkn bad-ass!”
The man is glad to roll with it, “That’s right devil-pups. Take care of uncle sam, and he takes care of you.
He presents his right hand, it’s as realistic as mechanical hands can look; with a large USMC sticker in place where his golden rook tattoo used to be.
“Its got titanium this and that, and is legit connected to my nerves and muscles inside. So, for example, if I catch you driving around town with the girl I love I just move my hand up like this, track y’all on the move and-“
Darvok’s prosthetic raised a nail-up fist with middle finger extended, supported halfway by the index and ring digits.
Everyone laughs and is impressed, one Marine lets out almost giggling, “That’s so fkn metal”
The Sergeant took the risk for the team, feeling like he has to make it up to them, “So like, what 3 letter agency are you from? Are you allowed to tell us?”
Darvok gives Dr. Strega a look, she smiles back and tells him to get to answering with her eyes/
Darvok acknowledges the Gunny in the group with a chin-raise and gets back to the refuelers.
“Right right, ok. I’ll tell you this much right off the bat, I was an S-G-T, from the good ‘ol U-S-M-C just like this devil dog right here before I went another route mah dudes.”
He proudly pats the sergeant while highlighting his chevrons.
“Now yeah, I guess I could tell you who cuts my checks and then tell y’all to fk off.
Oooooor, I could tell y’all how I got this hand cut off and then tell y’all to fk off.”
He looks around, “What’s it going to be Marines?”
They all slapped each other’s elbows and agreed for the story.
Darvok takes on a camp-fire voice and acts out for dramatic emphasis,
“So there I was, running a reinforced platoon of 60.
These guys are the creme of the creme, salty warfighters from every which way.
We got former SAS, Berets, Seals, Sayeret Makals, JTF2s, and hell, we even had some MARSOC and two Marcos.”
He looks up proudly, “Needless to say, we’re taking down bad guys left and right all over World Island for years.”
Darvok slows down in a solemn moment, “We get wind of a top priority target, we’ve had this guy on our radar for years now and it was one of those now or never moments.
He’s one of them fast moving Where’s Waldo mthrfkrs. He zig-zags from town to town while other clones also do the same, so hard to pin-point through all that noise, nah mean?”
The Marines nod their heads, no way anyone’s going to interrupt.
Gunny is paying close attention.
Dr. Strega is calmly enjoying her cigarette, keeping an eye out in the area.
“Anyway, we go in, 2am, we’re raiding him in this random sht hole town next to another random sht hole village.
We go in quiet and fast, as you do.
My fireteam breaks in the door, flash bang goes boom, and in we go.
Nothing.
We go into the next room, boom, nothing again.
Where is this guy?
Then some 7 foot tall banshee kaffer btch comes out of a fake wall and dumps a whole K on us.
Our target is a scrapper and also his shots in.
So I thought that was it, I was fated to go out this way y’all, it was over for your boy.
The Kaffer, let’s call her Carmen, cut my hand off with this”, Darvok pulls out a ghourka blade and hammer-stabs the table, leaving the blade upright.
Goosebumps pricked the skin of the Marines at the sight of the exotic XL blade.
“She even got a slash in”, he pulls his shirt away from his clavicle, exposing a nasty scar near his jugular, “good thing I don’t go into a fight without my leatherneck armor.”
The Marines are a mix of impressed, proud and dumbfounded.
“But yeah, this Carmen btch ain’t no joke.
I get kicked across the room and end up sliding on my backs on my crew’s blood and guts and there’s smoke everywhere.
Can barely see or breathe.
Darvok takes a deep breath.
“But you know what y’all.
I got that no fate card up my sleeve.
I tuck my stump in, nut up, and go lefty.
I pull out my trusty 5 shooter and unload on homegirl’s feet and chest.
I get my dead homey’s Benelli and give her a full buck for good measure.
Waldo over there didn’t want to accept what was happening, that pause was just what I needed.
I bucked his thigh off, then gave him that slug lick to the face, and you don’t come back from that.”
He takes a moment to explain, “Ok, for you cartridge junkies out here, our R-I-P shotgunner liked to pack it buck, buck, lead right?
I prefer consistency when I’m unloading but hey, He was one of those guys and I had to work with what I had.”
All the Marines went, “ah, okay”
Darvok continues,
“Yeah, where was I. Surprise mthrfkrs… Oh no, ambush. …I get lucky and finish them off. …now I’m dying, Right! So no time to tea bag those fkrs, I’m bleeding out and I feel the curtains closing.
I stumbled out and crashed in front of the town and see my men holding off while we’re getting shredded.
Turns out, this whole town was one big unit, even the kids and gramps were in on it. They had all kinds of shared surveillance, silent alarms and improvised weapons.
My team laid cover with the 50 cals and mk19 got me out before I blacked out in the back of an armored land cruiser.”
Darvok puts a beedi to his mouth, the Sergeant lit it immediately.
“We got our guy, but of the 36 of us that went in, only 6 of us made it out.”
There’s genuine silence.
Gunny takes his hat off, in respect of the spirit of sacrifice, and the rest of the Marines follow suit.
Darvok let it sit a moment more for them before breaking it up, “It’s okay though, cuz, those bootleg Bonnie and Clyde assholes were tied to weapons of mass destruction.
We can all rest easy knowing countless lives were saved.
And just like you fine gents,” he looks to the Marines and rests on Gunny, “we all honor each other by doing our part the best we can.”
He looks sideways, puts a foot up on the bench like Captain Morgan, takes another drag and concludes,
“Moral of the story mates?”
All eyes are on him.
He blinks twice before he smiles and puts on an exaggerated Asian accent,
“Coooon-fucius say: Surprise raids and ready ambush don’t mix”
The Marines take it in for a moment.
Then one Marine snorts. Another laughs. The rest follow, relieved to have permission to laugh at the wisdom and absurdity.
“Right then! Welp, there you have it. Now, I do believe I did my part,” he puts his knife back into its hip-scabbard.
“Time for y’all to be like a good lance-coconut, and skate the fk off. We all got our share of freedom work to do, Rah?”
Darvok comically salutes them off as the Marines yell “Rah” and disperse.
Motivated and excited, they could be heard questioning the scenarios with each other and sharing how they couldn’t imagine.
With them gone out of ear shot, Darvok orders the porter to sit with them.
He looks to Dr. Strega.
“Patina, a pleasure to see you again.”
He redirects to Gunny, extends his metal hand out for a shake, “Glad you chose to join us Gunny. I got your file and she spoke very highly about you, I have a feeling this is all going to work out smooth for all of us now.”
Gunny pauses, then meets his shake and affirms, “I’m told you’re a hell of a hunter, looking forward to learning more and doing my part”.
He never thought he would find himself this high up in an exclusive op, he smiles at Darvok with brotherly pride.
Darvok goes back to burning his bidi, “I’ll be honest with you Gunny. I didn’t think that sonnofa btch could have survived that lead crack to the head, but here we are.
Patina here insists we make the most of it.”
Gunny puts two and two together and gets a little hot under his collar.
Looking around the smoke pit, Gunny brings up, “this setting doesn’t seem like the best place to break bread and plot for x and y on what we’d like to do with die-hard Waldo.” looks at Dr Strega and Darvok,
“What’s next steps for all of us?”
Darvok takes the lead, “Right, let’s kick off our roles. Someone correct me if I misunderstood something.”
He points and looks at Dr Strega, “The big boss is this young lady, and she’ll be working closely with”, moves his gaze and finger onto Gunny, “you over intelligence requirements and extraction.”
He then points his thumb at himself, “And I’m here to help share what I know, provide moral and material support, and keep us all alive and safe. Amiright?”
Dr. Strega lays the ground rules to them both, “That’s right, my house, my rules btches.
It’s us three as a team focused on one detainee for this whole op.
We’ll also have my two helpers from the lab to cover our upkeep basics.
It’s going to be uncomfortable for all of us”
Gunny gestures to the porter sitting down quietly next to them this whole time, “”Is this the right time to ask who’s that?”
Dr. Strega rolls her eyes, “Make that three and a half. That’s Darvok’s android caddy Gunny, neat-o huh?”
Gunny’s lost for words, he appreciates the sitting bot with its head down and felt tricked that he didn’t notice before.
Darvok always gets a kick out of people’s uncanny valley reactions when it hits them, “Go ahead and wave at them Alex”
The android picks its head up and looks at both of them, smiles, waves, and speaks with a Christopher Walkin accent “Glad to see you again Patina. Pleased to meet you Gunnery Sergeant John J. Nettleton”
Patina smiles, “good to see you also Alex, you look fantastic.
Have you been getting male-facial and vocal upgrades?”
Alex puts its hands upwards towards its face, as if it was pushing up and down on its cheeks and smiles at her, “Why thank you Patina, blush, blush. You look as lovely as ever”, butterfly blinks followed before it reset back to a neutral state.
Gunny is awestruck but keeps his bearing, and changes the subject to snap himself out of his stupor.
He finally confronts Dr. Strega by asking, “Patina?”
She responds in kind, “Since we’re all on a first name basis, my full name is Ana Patina Strega-Cortes Gunny. Just… I know it’s weird, but do us all a favor and call me Patina.”
Darvok checks his scuffed up Monaco watch hanging from his left belt-loop as Patina directs him as well, “Darvok, be a dear and get our Gunny on the books?”
“Aye yo”, Darvok looks to Alex, “you heard the good doctor, get his boss’s boss to release him to our circle; she wants it pronto. Oh, and hook it up with a cool rando op name would ya?”
“Yes sir.” Alex bobs its head back down as the still confused Gunny swears he could see it thinking, just like a real person, but unable to tell what could be happening in there.
Darvok quickly follows up with Alex before getting back to Patina and Gunny, “Whatcha going to call the op?”
Alex replies without moving her head from its slump, “Dumbo Drop Sir.”
A crow flies overhead, absent of any caws.
Darvok holds his attention for a moment on Alex, “good to go”, and gets back.
Gunny swears he could hear Darvok supra-thinking as well for a split second.
Patina brings up, “Here’s the brass tacks, I wanna wake up the subject at 1300 tomorrow.
So be at my lab at 1100.
Plenty of time for y’all to shower, sht, shave, and look cute for each other.”
Patina informs Gunny, “Next to the lab I have a three bedroom shack, I promise you, it’s clean. You comfortable staying with me or should I make other arrangements for you?”
Gunny holds his blush in, “That sounds good Dr. Stre- I mean, Patina”.
“Cool”, Patina then addresses Darvok, “I’m a host, not a babysitter. What’re you going to be up to while you’re not with us?”
“I still got some things to take care of,” he looks down by the pads, one of the white Vans was left behind for him as expected, “Alex and I’ll be setting up our space a klick down from y’all.”
Darvok lights up another bidi,
“I take it it’s about that time to pull a Lance-coconut, but I gotta run one last thing with ya sis.
Is the Gunny squared away.” He takes a drag and follows directly, “Gunny, ya have anything for me?”
Gunny picks up on this cue and starts to excuse himself, “Hey, looking forward to some brewskies with you at some point while we’re working all this, I’m going to go and… “
Gunny looks at Patina, She picks up on her part, “Of course, here’s what we’re gonna do” and starts walking him to the gator.
Darvok ends their acquaintance with, “Brewskies it is brohan, catch ya maniana”, and fancies the choppers taking off.
At the gator, Patina has a quick heart to heart folded into instructions,
“Take the gator, pack light, essentials only.
Tomorrow I’ll pick you up at 0930 and bring you to my place.”
Gunny nods, “Where’s it at, I reckon somewhere around camp 7?”
“It’s a few klicks past Camp No. Look, I need you on your “A” game Marine.”
Gunny nods, and wasn’t expecting what she said next as she caresses with her fingertips his sweaty neck,
“One last thing. How’s your wife, have you been keeping in touch with her? She still prays with you?”
Gunny replies, “We pray together for everyone, she says she’s getting used to handling the house like before from my last tour.”
“And did your daughter get the spot?”
Gunny boasts, “Yeah she did. Best cartwheeler in all of Havelock and New Bern”.
She smiles and responds, “Ahhh, niiiiiice. Good for her. And little johnny junior, how’s he doing as a pooly?”
His chest swells a bit, “He’s gotta work a bit more on his Pullups and he keeps messing up his 11 general orders, but I’m sure he’ll lock it down. He better, his grades ain’t sht, just like his old man”
She nods sympathetically, “He’s going to make a fine officer someday Marine…
…She looks to the sides before she warmly advises him:
“John… …Call her tonight. Tell them you got an emergency deployment, some old FBI and DGSE friends of yours need help with Afghanistan or something along those lines.
You can also let them know that the family account is going to get a 250k sign on bonus to help with the mortgage and that ridiculous monster truck you got.”
“Mah Raaaam”, They share a laugh before she orders him out, “the flowers please, they’re for me, right?”
As Gunny hands over the flowers, his phone starts ringing.
It’s the Gitmo base commander.
>>>Hey Devil Dog, can you hear me?<<< “Yes Sir”
Just wanted to check in and let you know that I’m personally overseeing your paperwork gets pushed, so consider it done.
Also, you understand that you’re now annexed to operation “Dumbo Drop Sir”, did you hear me say that?<<<
“Yes Sir, I uhm -” >>>Did these spooks ask you to talk sweet and ask me questions Gunny?<<<
No sir, I – >>>Then quit wasting everyone’s doggone time. Put your phone away and get to work ya dingleberry menace. Fkn out<<<
Gunny was hung up on, and frozen in shock.
You don’t just get a call from the base commander saying he’s going to personally do sht for you.
At this point, he doesn’t see his day getting any weirder.
He taps into his years of training and combat exposure to put all the surreal craziness around him to the side; and treat everything going on like another freedom fries friday at the mess hall.
This way, he can continue to function and carry out the mission.
Survive. Maybe impress someone in the process.
His mouth is dry.
Patina taps the gator twice, “Sounded important. Must’ve been a hell of a day for you Gunny. Pass me my water and see you maniana ok?”
She does a quick wave as she walks away.
Gunny heads back to his Staff NCO and Officer Barracks to call his family and pack his things.
As ordered.
Back at the smoke pit, Darvok is picking his nose with his mechanical finger.
He wipes on his pant leg and doesn’t notice Patina’s disgusted face.
He speaks while inspecting his hand, “We got a lot of moving parts here. We should put two taps to Yugo’s skull, call it a day. Easy. Done.”
She smirks, crosses her arms, “Funny, that’s what Malachite and Kupfer said about you.
And here we are, so glad to see you Darvi. So it’s Yugo eh?”
Darvok is peeling the USMC sticker off his prosthetic, “That’s one of his names… …Look, you gotta trust me. This one’s strat and tenacity is… …different.
He started a lot of fires out there, we should focus on watering them all down while we still can. Ironically, we can’t do two things at once. Not to mention, we’re sitting ducks out here and the only ones left.”
Patina takes a sip from her now luke-warm bottle, “my web, my fly. And it sounds like a grease blaze.
We don’t put out a grease blaze with regular ol’ water, I’m not looking to get burnt dear.
You sure you’re in the right kitchen Darvi? You sounding a little shook.”
He smiles as he regards his hand. Sandwiched between “Annuit Coeptis” and “Novus Ordo Seclorum” is the unfinished pyramid symbol with its eye of providence brilliantly etched into the metal.
He removes the last bits of adhesive residue with his left hand nails.
He finally notices her and sees the flowers.
“That reminds me”. He takes the gift bag from Alex and hands it to her,
“Came across this little guy while collecting bread crumbs around latin america. Saw this, thought of you.”
She opens it up to reveal a pot with a small vine growing from it.
She looks closely… …could it be?
Darvok doesn’t spoil it.
She gasps, “Boquila trifoliolata? It executes polymorphism strats across air gaps… …so it’s like…
Darvok finishes for her, “like it can see without eyes. Yuuup, creepy and exotic, I’m glad it didn’t dissapoint.”
He puts out his bidi and orders Alex to get up and follow,
“We rolling out? Imma put my sht away and check out the base.
They still got that bomb-ass Jamaican curry chicken on Rasta Hill?”
Darvok waves at the white van and it heads towards them to pick them up.
“Yeah, still there. Drop me off before you go to your place and here, carry this for me”.
She hands him the plant and flowers and exaggerates an Asian accent to mock him;
“Now let’s do like lance-coconut, and skate the fk out”