For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will be the title of a Rolling Stones song.
The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.
Chapter Two
Between a Rock and a Hard place
0950
"Goddammit! Washington God-Damn politics! Do you want to explain to me how in the Hell did Destro and M.A.R.S. win a bid for a military contract?" General Hawk roared. He slapped his hat on his thigh. Washington politics aggravated him. Hawk knew and the ones in high places knew it was the work of the Jugglers. It was as if they wanted to see him fail. The Jugglers were an elite group of Generals and Admirals made up of all sections of the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines. No one except their inner circle knew who they were. They were the chess players in the dangerous game of War. He kept that information away from the Joe's. It was to their benefit not to know. He held up his arms in exasperation. "They're terrorists for crying out loud!"
He wasn't expecting an answer. Even if the other three men agreed they didn't interrupt. Instead they watched passively at the General's sudden outburst. Even a General had the right to vent every now and then. It happened when he was frustrated with Washington's policies. No one envied that part of his post. General Hawk had to ride a fine line with them to get what he needed for his men. With support for the troop's sky high and the military budget nearly limitless, there was still approval that was needed. Sometimes it could take years to get what he wanted. For the new M.A.R.S. sniper rifle system to be approved so quickly, it must have been on the fast track. Hawk ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh of frustration.
The test fire of the new sniper rifle took less time than the four of them expected. It was now roughly ten AM. That would mean that Low Light had been awake for close to twenty hours. His body protested to demand sleep but his brain was still awake. And it would stay awake until he was dismissed or dropped. If he went to bed he knew he would be awake for at least an hour before nodding off. He never did sleep quickly like other people. Then if he did get some sleep there was no telling if the monsters of his night terrors would come out to play. It was hit or miss. On good days they stayed away but sometimes they would come in clusters every time he closed his eyes. He still didn't know why.
Low Light, Flint, and Duke waited until General Hawk finished.
When he did, Duke spoke up. "How do you know it's a M.A.R.S. rifle, Low Light?" He asked. It sounded like a 'now everyone calm down until we get the facts' tone of voice. It irritated Low Light to be second guessed. But even if it did, he didn't show it.
"Because" He explained "I recognized the manufacturing. Each weapons manufacturer uses a specific factory to make each rife. That's how weapons are mass produced to accept standardized bullet such as a 9 millimeter or .308 rounds like a full metal jacket. Otherwise you would need specialty bullets. The factory has to be standard issue to make this rifle and I recognized it." He said.
"You know this? For sure Low Light?" General Hawk asked. His face and body paused waiting on the answer. It would depend on too many levels Low Light's answer and he knew it. Low Light was making a grave mistake if he was wrong.
Low Light nodded. "I would bet my pay grade on it Sir, but that's Clutch's area of expertise. I'm convinced that it's a M.A.R.S. sniping rifle. It comes from the same factory as all of the M.A.R.S. sniping rifles."
"Yes, but how do you know?" Duke asked. The First Sergeant was persistent.
Low Light was silent for a long while. He had to keep his temper. That was a trait of a lot of the GI Joe seniors. They were all experts in their fields. Low Light was an expert in his. They weren't used to having their findings doubted. Being questioned was annoying.
"I've had to use them in Serra Gordo." He shook his head. "That was a cluster fuck. Sorry Sir." He turned to General Hawk. "I meant it was not a good mission." Swearing was a military man's curse.
The General waved it off.
Low Light continued. "I was in Sierra Gordo for six months. I was with Ripcord and Recondo. This was after El Jefe and his death squads. The country was still unstable. The S.G.L.F. held the capital Rio Lindo but in the back country there was chaos. The Tucaro Indians were being slaughtered. We were sent down to rescue some bleeding heart ambassador that was captured by Cobra."
The General nodded. "I remember that mission. The U.S. backed the Sierra Gordo Army and the communists backed the Sierra Gordo Liberation Front. In the middle were the Tucaro's. And yes, it was a cluster fuck." He said.
Low Light made a half grin. "We were in the back country most of the time. Sierra Gordo is in South America. It looked like mountains and jungles. It was the high jungle. Most of the people used the rivers. It was a good place to hide." He said. "M.A.R.S. had a factory there. I made use of permanently borrowing a few of their sniping rifles and .308's. The standard issue SR-25 didn't hold up to rain."
It wasn't stealing if it was permanently borrowed. "The compound had anti aircraft and gun turrets. It was surrounded by concertina wire and guard towers. The only way to check was to snipe. That was what I did." He said. "By the time we got the ambassador out I'd gotten used to their sniping rifles. That was when I was hit by a mortar."
He looked at Duke. "I know a M.A.R.S. sniping rifle when I see one."
Duke stiffened but held his jaw. "That's a very good explanation. Thank you Low Light." He said.
General Hawk spoke up. There was tension growing between his First Sergeant and his Night Sniper. He defused it. "It was Fubar from word one but everyone made it out alive and the mission was a success. That's how the GI Joe team operates. Yo Joe." He put the emphasis on team and looked directly at both Duke and Low Light.
"Yo Joe." They echoed.
That was when Flint spoke up. "Wait. Didn't we use Knight Armament of Florida before, Hawk?" He asked.
The General made a grunt sound. "Yes but it depends on which company wins the military budget. It's damn lucrative to get a military contract. There's stiff competition for it and it takes a lot of political maneuvering and greasing of palms, thousand dollar martini lunches and rubbing of shoulders. But it essentially goes to the lowest bidder. A lot of companies bid low just to get their foot in the door." He said. "It looks like Knight lost out this year."
"But how could have Destro have won it? Cobra is listed and recognized in the international community as a terrorist organization." Duke pointed out. "That's like buying flowers from the Taliban."
The flowers were poppies critical for heroin. In Afghanistan that was the primary means of their GDP.
"Cobra is, but you remember that Destro and M.A.R.S. are not. Even my wife went back years in Intel trying to find a connection between M.A.R.S. and Cobra but it just isn't there. You know Jaye, if there was a connection she would have found it. Destro is just that good at covering his tracks." Flint said.
"I have to agree with Flint." General Hawk said. "But until we do find evidence that M.A.R.S. and this newest sniping rifle system is associated with Cobra, the most I can do is stall. Hell, I can stall for years if I have to but we are NOT going to use a Cobra terrorists' weapon. And we are NOT going to have the taxpayers' supporting a terrorist organization. Those bastards won't see one red cent if I have my way." He said.
Once General Hawk made a threat a promise, there was nothing you could do to stop him. That was why he was in charge of GI Joe. A tenacious team needed a tenacious General. That was why he was called the Tomahawk.
He turned to Low Light. "I hope you're right on this one Low Light. I have full faith in you."
"Yes Sir." Low Light said.
At least he had General Hawk in his corner. The man was known for backing up his soldiers. And the Joe's respected him for that. Once respect was earned in the Joe's it was rarely given up. There wasn't a man or woman on the team that wouldn't take a bullet for him. They would fight to the end if General Hawk ordered them to.
"The sniping rifle uses NATO .308 Win. Those are made by Federal Gold Medal Match in Anoka Minnesota. That at least in made in the U.S. of A." Low Light said. Duke looked at him and opened his mouth. "I took a tour of the factory one year." He said. He was getting tired and didn't feel like being questioned.
It was time for General Hawk to step in again. He tilted his chin. "Thank you Low Light. Your information has been valuable. In the mean time, you are dismissed. Go get some rack time. That's an order." He said.
"Thank you Sir." Low Light said. He saluted all three men before turning back towards the armory.
Order ran up to greet him as soon as he opened the door. Low Light guessed that the dog was the official 'greeter-of-people' for Law while being stuck in the armory. He disengaged the scope before handing over the stock to Law.
"I can always use an extra scope in the field." He explained. He wasn't big on smiling so it came out like a half grin with his lips closed on the lower part of his face.
"Yeah, well, technically, I can't let you have it since its part of the system but I guess I have a case of temporary blindness." Law said. "Damndest thing."
His smile was wide showing all of his teeth. Even Order looked like he was smiling with his tongue hanging out. Like father, like son.
Low Light left and headed back to his room.
Now that he was ordered back to it, all of the twenty hours came down on him at once. The fatigue hit him so hard that it was a struggle to get back to his quarters. His body slowed down, his brain slowed down, his eyes burned and his mouth felt like he hadn't brushed his teeth in months. Insomnia was a brutal bitch. He never knew when it would happen. At times he was awake for hours. Then he was followed by hypersomnia. That was the state when not even a bomb blast could wake him up. The brain and the body were an organic organism. It required sleep to regenerate itself. The common knowledge of insomnia was that the body stayed awake for days. That wasn't true. Insomnia was a vicious cycle. Low Light knew that it would push him to the point of breaking before he would be allowed sleep by sheer fact that the body and mind needed it. No one could stay awake for any length of time without suffering from the effects. It was either sleep or die.
In that time he was put on every pill known to man. Ambien made him groggy even when he was awake. Amitriptyline gave him a flat affect. It was the lack of emotion or feeling at his surroundings that made him give it up. That was no way for a Joe to be.
Trazadone made him exceptionally tired with near life-like dreams. On it, he could never tell if he was awake or still asleep. When the monsters came he couldn't wake up. That was when Beachhead would find him on the floor or in the bathtub, curled up in a closet and once somehow beneath the bed.
That was when he stopped taking it. He didn't know what he would do in that fugue state but Beachhead would never tell. It was a disturbed state of consciousness when he was affected and performed acts in full awareness but upon recovery cannot recollect the acts performed. That was what scared him the most.
At this time of the morning the hallways were empty. There was no one else around. That was good. He didn't feel like talking. The only thing he wanted was a good sound sleep. He cringed and hoped that the monsters would leave him alone today. That would be a bonus.
Before he got back to his room he saw Psyche Out at his door getting ready to tape a note to the outside. He made an inward 'fuck' and stopped. He felt like turning around and hoped the psychiatrist didn't see him. But, it was orders and mandatory. Low Lighted gritted his teeth. He'd have to sleep some other time.
In an instant his brain was awake again.
The psychiatrist looked up. He didn't look happy.
"Good morning Low Light. Are you just getting in?" He asked.
"Yeah, I had a test fire this morning." Low Light replied. "What's up?"
He had a feeling what it was and waited for it.
"Did you realize you had an appointment this morning at eight AM or did you forget?" He said. Psyche Out kept his face neutral and his voice at a calm level. It was unproductive to get into arguments with his patients. He knew the majority of the Joe's would rather be stabbed in the eye or die by a thousand paper cuts than visit him. Low Light wasn't any different. He was just the most interesting.
"It is the third time in six months that you have been late or didn't bother to show up. You have a fifty percent chance. If you miss again, I will be forced to notify General Hawk." He handed Low Light the note.
That would mean at least weekly sessions and at most a suspension of duty. Low Light couldn't tolerate either one.
"I had a test fire this morning. Sorry." He said. He could be as neutral and calm as Psyche Out even if his 'fuck' turned into 'fuck fuck fuck'. "I was ordered back to the rack by General Hawk." He explained. Even in his ears it sounded like a whine.
"The sessions are mandatory." Psyche Out said. "It is outside of Hawk's control. You are under agreement for a year or until I deem otherwise. You signed the contract. I expect you to be compliant." "I'll see you in fifteen minutes."
It was a statement not a question.
That meant that all Low Light had time for was brushing his teeth. He had to forget sleep for another hour. His body groaned at being awake so long. It was like it knew that it was denied rest once again. He put it through a lot of abuse over the years.
In the mirror all of those years stared back at him. He wore his helmet and shades to cover his grey blood shot eyes but every year he started to look older. That was another reason he wore his glasses. A lot of the Joe's hadn't seen him minus it. More than a few wouldn't know him without them. Stripped of his goggles he felt naked. It was a barrier between him and the outside world. No one could peak into his window of the soul.
He ran a hand over his face. He had to skip shaving. The new beard growth didn't make him look much better. A beard always made him look pudgy. He should start wearing a balaclava like his roommate Beachhead. It would save a lot of time.
He took a swig of mouthwash out of the bottle and left.
It was a long walk to Psyche Out's office. As many times as he had to see him he should probably move closer. Right now he was too tired to move. Everything was a chore when he was sleep deprived except for his job. That was when his brain was alert. And Beachhead was a good roommate. They worked opposites and never saw each other. He suspected that if they did they would get on each other's nerves.
At Psyche Out's office, he stopped and waited before knocking on the door.
It was now or never.
End Chapter Two
Between a Rock and a Hard place
