Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction, so I'm a little shaky on the format but I'm trying my hardest. Please be patient! Please read and review as well, and don't be afraid to be critical—those are the ones I live for! I don't own Psych, just enjoy watching it. Also don't own the reference to Full Metal Jacket in the title or the chapter titles, which come from the "Soldier's Creed." And without further ado…
You puny, weak little slug! You're not good enough to lick the clay off my boots!
Lassiter blinked his eyes rapidly to dispel the memory that echoed in his head and returned his attention to the ungodly bright screen in front of him. It was near two in the morning at the station, but he hadn't wanted to go home yet. His caseload wasn't heavy, in fact it was just one case—a twenty-two-year-old male had been shot to death in a warehouse. His hands had been tied behind his back and he'd been blindfolded. So far, no leads had turned up and their only suspect was a vagrant that had been squatting in the warehouse at the time, though it was widely agreed that he had been too stoned at the time to commit the act or even fill out a witness statement.
He roughly rubbed his eyes and yawned. Taking a sip of cold coffee, he pulled the crime scene photos from the file on his desk and studied them closer. There had to be something in all the blood that would lead him to the killer. If Spencer were here, he would've taken one look at the picture and instantly "divined" who the killer was. Lassiter grimaced. He hated being the bumbling cop who became the butt of that happy-go-lucky, ignorance-is-bliss man-child's jokes. Especially after all he'd been through.