Chapter 2
Luke knew the day was finally over. It had to be. He was on his way to 7th Block, for Chrissakes, and that had been a quiet point even on the worst days. Even with the way Zack Owens flipped out at the end of gym class, Luke was pretty sure he'd be able to end the day without any additional drama. He could just go to his locker and get his books for woodshop class, last one of the day, and then he'd be out of here. He wanted to get home and get back on his computer. He needed to talk to SS_BUILDER-48 again.
The main hallway, 200 Hall, was the most crowded hallway in school whenever classes let out, because it was the best way of getting just about anywhere, and over a hundred kids had lockers along this hall. Normally, though, the crowds were moving, for the most part. Traffic flowed in two directions, just like with cars on a street. There was nothing like that here today; a huge crowd had gathered halfway down the hall, ringed around a single locker.
"Damn. You see that?" a boy said to his friend.
"Holy shit."
"Who's locker is that? Somebody must really hate that kid."
"No way are they gonna get this off."
"Not unless they repaint the whole locker."
"And the two next to it. Some of the paint got on the ones next to it."
"No shit, genius."
"Yeah, well, it ain't my locker got sprayed."
Luke got a deep feeling of dread in his stomach as he approached the crowd. His locker was in this direction. In fact, it was right where the crowd was gathered. It might've been hard to push his way to the front of the crowd with so many kids standing around, but Luke was a small, quiet boy, easily ignored. If Luke wasn't being actively mocked, he was dismissed. He'd heard things that students would've never allowed him to hear, but more than once, a conversation had been held with Luke nearby, and the participants talked as if Luke were not there. They didn't even notice him. So Luke slipped through the crowd and got up front pretty easily. He knew what he should expect. He knew it was his locker. But what he saw when he made it through to the front of the crowd and the vandalized locker came into full view shocked Luke still.
It was indeed his locker, 277. Somebody had trashed it. The lock was intact, but its metal, gray-painted door had been turned mostly black and red. A skull had been crudely sprayed up top in black paint, and beneath it was a pointed message in black and red, alternating between lines:
GO BACK
TO IRAQ
SAND
NIGGER
"Ha! They mean that kid!" a boy pointed and laughed, and he got the giggles. More did as Luke walked forward- slowly, as if in a daze- and for the first time noticed the pool of liquid on the floor in front of his locker. He reached down, touched it. It was syrup, the kind Mom and Dad loved giving Luke for his pancakes.
Luke fumbled with the Master Lock fixed to his locker; at first he could not open it. He couldn't remember the combination. The back of his neck felt like it was burning; behind him, he could hear kids whispering and snickering.
He got the door open just as somebody threw an apple at him. It was fresh, so it felt like a damn rock when it smacked into Luke between his shoulder blades. "Go home!" a boy shouted. Several girls and girls laughed or snickered.
Luke spun around; a whole hallway of students stared back at him. He scanned the faces, searching for the guilty one. He couldn't tell who it was. Maybe it was Zack Owens, but as much as he'd been after Luke today, he was far from the only one who went out of his way to make things difficult for Luke. Any number of kids could've done this.
Some students looked amused, even with Luke staring at them. A number had their phones out now, and plenty had them out when Luke showed up. They were taking pictures of the locker. Others looked more shocked than amused; many had doubtless never seen it go this far before. A few kids looked sympathetic. Most just stood there, like they weren't sure what else to do.
No one came forward and said, "Dude, this is fucked up." Nobody said, "Luke, I don't know who did this, but the rest of us aren't stuck in 1956." Not one student came up to Luke and said, "I feel bad for you. Really. This was wrong."
No one did anything.
Then a small 6th grader with messy red hair pointed past Luke and said, "Dude, look in your locker, man!"
Luke spun around, and actually saw the inside of his locker for the first time since the vandalism had been done to it.
The papers, books, binders, notebooks, and supplies were all where he'd left them. They hadn't gotten into the locker; nothing had been disturbed. But a whole bottle of syrup looked to have been poured inside through the vents. So much, in fact, that it had pooled at the bottom and leaked out of the space between the frame and the bottom of the locker door.
Everything in this damn locker was ruined. And the guys who did this knew that was gonna happen. That was the whole point.
Anger pulsed in Luke; hate ran through his veins. He wanted to scream. The syrup was on everything, in everything. Whoever had done this was really not messing around. They'd had some hate in their hearts, too.
The textbook and notebook he needed for class were covered in the damn syrup, but they were replaceable. They weren't even what Luke was looking at.
It was a small box, cardboard, part of something Dad had ordered on Amazon a while ago. Luke had liked the little box and he'd kept it. Two months ago, he'd found the cricket on the floor in the locker room, just as gym class ended. It had just been there, hopping around on the tiled floor. Luke had panicked, knowing that soon the other boys would show up and kill the cricket, either by deliberately taking aim at it if one of them noticed it, or by simply crushing it in the stampede.
The dark-haired boy had saved it. He had scooped it up and hidden it in his locker, changing out of his gym clothes faster than he'd ever done before. He'd managed to get out of there quickly, carrying the cricket in his pocket. Then he'd managed to hide it and bring it all the way home, where he put some air holes in the box and kept the cricket in it. Luke had learned what to feed the cricket, and at the end of every week- and sometimes during the week- he would bring the box home and let the cricket hop around some, inside or outside. For two months, that cricket had become his pet and his friend. Every day, Luke would look at the box when he stopped at his locker, making sure the other kids never got a chance to see it, or guess what was inside.
The syrup had pooled on top of the box, going straight inside.
With trembling hands, Luke picked up the wet, sticky box, opening the lid. He didn't want to look. He knew what he was going to see. But he opened the box anyway, slowly lifting the lid.
The cricket had died when the syrup poured in through the air holes, catching it in place and then cutting off its air. The one secret Luke had kept, the one thing he'd had to look forward to every day, that cricket, was gone. Luke wished he could save it, but he knew there was nothing he could do.
It was dead.
Luke spun around, eyes flashing, once again searching for the culprit. He was pissed off now, and finally, he felt like he could take on whoever was up for it in a fight. Zack Owens was the one he hoped he'd see in the crowd. He knew Zack and his friends had done this. The kids around him all stared back, wary of Luke, eying him like he was dangerous. An animal that would bite if you didn't keep your distance.
"Calm down, man," the 6th grade boy said.
"Yeah, seriously, dude. It's just a locker," another boy added.
"The hell's in that box, anyway?"
"Just let it go," another boy called out. "They're never gonna find who did this anyway."
Luke didn't say anything. He turned around, slammed his locker door shut so hard the metallic bang echoed at either end of the hallway. His trembling fingers dropped the lock twice, but he got it back on and clicked it into place as Principal Jeffords started down the hallway, telling everybody to break it up, break it up.
The dark-haired teenager abruptly decided to flee. He had no desire to stay here any longer. The principal's perfunctory sympathy and the inaction that would follow, the more genuine sympathy of his parents- none of it would change anything. If Luke stayed, he would just see more of this. Probably worse than this, too. He had to leave.
The box still firmly in one hand, Luke shoved his way through the crowd, rounded a corner and darted down the stairs towards 300 Hall. He was out of here. He was gone. It was time to sign up and go fight for the people who actually gave a damn. He'd seen enough of the opposite around here.
XX
There was no time to wait for the bus; Luke walked home, and really, he pushed that pretty close to running. He had to move fast. They would call his parents soon, and before long, somebody would figure out he'd skipped the last class of school.
Luke unlocked the front door and raced upstairs to his computer. The second it was up, he got on the trail for the new chatroom, and before long he'd found it. Signed on as LukeLighthouse_XT, he joined the ongoing conversation between Joker23495, TheHound8893, ClimbTheBranch, and SS_BUILDER-48. They were talking about "B" and the action he'd taken recently. It took only a few moments to realize they meant Bradley Simek and the bus bombing.
"r u guys seeing this? Its everywhere," typed Joker23495.
ClimbTheBranch added, "unbelievable. I'm watching 2"
"B did his job well," SS_BUILDER-48 wrote. "He did what was necessary. Oppressors will have to sit up and take notice."
"I'm here I saw it", Luke hurriedly typed.
"L welcome. Where have you been?" SS_BUILDER-48 answered.
"I went there," Luke typed in reply. "I went to where you said."
"u went there/" ClimbTheBranch wrote, and Luke somehow felt he could just sense the jealousy in that.
"I didn't know we could go," Joke23495 added, and there was definitely jealousy in that.
"I wanted L to be inspired," SS_BUILDER-48 replied. "He needed some inspiration. I'm glad you went, L. I wasn't sure you had the courage. You've made me proud. You're showing your loyalty, and it isn't going unnoticed, my brother."
Matty43334 came on and asked, "what did u c?"
"tell us everything L," ClimbTheBranch said.
Luke spent a few precious minutes obliging them. Then he began to write about some of what happened today at school, but unlike before, he was careful not to name any names. But they knew who he was talking about all the same. The other chatroom members started urging Luke to see this as final proof that The Calling was for him. Luke's heart was racing; he was both incredibly excited and terribly afraid. What was he supposed to do about this? Was he better off staying, or going?
SS_BUILDER-48 spoke persuasively, as always. Luke had wanted to meet this guy in person for a while, though he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance. "Builder" was smart as hell, and Luke and the other chatroom regulars loved reading his flowery, eloquent speeches and exhortations to fight for freedom with all that you had.
The others weighed in too, reminding Luke that he had little to lose if he gave up his current life and everything to gain if he joined them.
Back and forth they went, and Luke began to feel his resolve to stay here anymore weakening. His parents were going to hear about his locker getting vandalized. They were going to hear that he had skipped 7th Block and left school. Chances were he'd wind up getting dragged to the principal's office, both to get a lecture about not skipping school, and to snitch on Zack Owens, who would then take savage vengeance on Luke from now to the end of the year… and maybe beyond, if they wound up at the same high school down the road.
Finally, Luke put it to "The Builder" in one question: "If I leave now, I can't go back?"
"This is your time, brother. We talked about this. Come aboard with us and I promise you won't wanna go back. Do the steps we talked about. We're at the building we talked about. You've come this far. Come a little farther and you can join us"
"Your brothers will be there waiting. Show me you're serious and you're in."
Luke thought about it for almost a minute before he answered. "Okay," he typed. "I'll go."
After accepting some congratulations and assurances he was on the right path, Luke signed off. He put on one of his favorite songs, "My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark" by Fall Out Boy; while it played on repeat, Luke ruthlessly and quickly destroyed his room. He didn't own much, but what there was, Luke shredded or smashed. He got out a pocket knife and stuck it into his mattress, pillows, and comforter, tearing it all to pieces.
The whole process took about five minutes. When he was done, Luke sat down and pulled a spiral notebook from his desk. This was the hardest part, and not just because he was getting increasingly tense; he'd been here much too long already, and any minute now, as lousy as today had been, his parents were liable to come home and catch him.
But in order to demonstrate his loyalty, he had to give up his old life. Luke needed to not just depart from his life as it was now; he had to reject it. He had to condemn those who were not aligned with The Calling's ideology, especially those close to him.
That meant his parents. Luke had no one else.
They were always good to me, Luke thought. And not just his parents, actually; he'd met some of the rest of the Harris family- uncles, aunts, grandparents, cousins- and they had all accepted Luke as one of their own without hesitation.
How was he supposed to write a note damning them all and just disappear?
You said you were in, Luke reminded himself. You can't quit now. You have to do this.
So he got out a blue Papermate pen and started to write.
Dave and Wendy,
I won't be calling you Mom and Dad anymore. I'm leaving to be with a family that understands me. I'm not coming back you won't hear from me. The life I had with you was fake I hated it. I wish it never happened you're the same as the evil oppressors who hate me and call me names. You're one of them. You don't understand who I am, so I don't want anything to do with you anymore. You aren't my parents. You're nothing to me. I don't
Luke abruptly sat up and took in a sharp breath; tears filled his eyes, and a sob escaped him. He dropped the notebook and the pen, and had to take a whole minute to get himself under control. The dark-haired teenager seized the notebook where it lay on the floor, savagely throwing it into his backpack. He had shut off his school-issue laptop, the one he'd so freely surfed on once he found a good VPN to use and did a little work to unlock some of its systems, and thrown it somewhere. Where was it? Luke knew he should have destroyed it. He was nearing panic now, almost hysterical. He was almost exactly divided between staying and going, and it dawned on Luke that he better go or he'd lose his nerve.
Maybe he hadn't gotten to the things under his bed, but Luke had destroyed everything else pretty well. He'd hacked away at the doorframe, desk, the wood bed frame, the closet doorframe, and anything else he couldn't outright smash to pieces with his knife. Who even cared if a few random things were left under the bed? The Calling would be satisfied with what was done already. Luke knew he was supposed to finish the note to his parents and leave it behind.
He couldn't do it. Luke tried to make himself take the notebook and finish it, but he just couldn't do it. He shoved it in his backpack and zipped it back up.
Luke didn't know what was happening at school. He didn't know what would happen with his parents. They'd have no note to read; Luke couldn't bear to leave the one he'd been ordered to. He'd just have to hope The Calling didn't find out about that. As for the kids at school- as for Zack Owens, anyway- Luke personally hoped The Calling killed him. Chances were that wouldn't happen, but if anything happened to Zack, Luke wasn't going to complain. In the mood he was in right now, he'd gladly have killed Zack himself.
Taking a final look around his thoroughly-trashed room, Luke wondered again if he wasn't betraying The Calling by not leaving the note. Not even finishing it, in fact. No, if they found out and demanded to know why he'd failed to do that, Luke would just deal with it then. Luke didn't have any doubt, as he surveyed the room, that the damage he'd done here would be enough for The Calling. They'd be satisfied with this.
Then Luke shouldered his backpack and he got the hell out of there.
He had one last thing to do before he joined up, and just enough time to do it. Luke would take the cricket to the place he had planned to release it at the end of the school year, at the local park, a mile from his home. The cricket had died because of him. Had Luke just released it to begin with, back when he first had the chance, it would still be alive.
He owed it a burial, at least, a final goodbye. Luke, the boy who had not a friend in the world besides The Calling, decided he could not live with himself if he didn't pay his respects to this cricket before he went. The cricket had never tried too much to escape him, had always seemed to stay still and calm when he held it in his hand. It was as if, sensing Luke's gentleness, that he meant it no harm, the cricket responded accordingly.
If so, that trust had been misplaced. Zack Owens and his friends hadn't killed the cricket. Luke had killed it. And as he left his foster home forever, Luke took a trowel with him, snatching it from the garage, from a bucket of gardening tools.
The one thing that had given him hope, the one thing that had carried him through the day. Luke had let Zack Owens take even that from him. One day… maybe one day he'd get Zack for this. For now, he had to hurry to the tree, the big oak tree, that stood over the park on the hill. Luke had visualized releasing the cricket there so many times, could see it so clearly in his mind.
It was good that Luke had been able to arrange that he'd be picked up near there. At least, before he left his old life for good, Luke could make some apology, say goodbye to his friend.
Luke had a feeling he was never going to understand why any of this had to happen. There was so much cruelty with no point.
XX
Zack sat on the steps at the back of his old elementary school, staring out at the baseball field. Looking at it, but not really looking at it. He was just staring. When your eyes were open you had to pick something, and the baseball field would do since no girls in short-shorts were in view.
"So, Zack," Tanner said from beside him, "Matt texted me about Luke Harris."
"Well?"
"Kid freaked out when he saw his locker. He fucked off and nobody's seen him since. Didn't show up for his classes the rest of the day."
"So what?"
Josh shrugged uncomfortably. "Well… he's just saying it looks like we got 'im good."
"So what?"
Tanner wanted to sigh in frustration, but stopped himself. As he'd just seen today, Zack got mean when he was mad, and cutting in when he was all moody and introspective like this was a good way to get him angry. Out of this trio, Zack was in charge, and losing his shit in PE today didn't change that. But it was frustrating nonetheless when he got like this. When Zack was in this kind of mood, you could tell him a prank had succeeded, a plot for revenge had played out perfectly- hell, you could tell him that The Bomb was going to be dropped, and Zack would sardonically reply, "So what?"
"Maybe we got rid of him," Tanner said hopefully. "You know, that's the point. Look, I get that you hate him, man. Well, maybe he'll shut up from now on, stay outta the way. Or maybe he'll transfer to another school or something."
"Maybe." Zack nodded, as if in thoughtful approval. Then he cracked a smile. "We did get him good today."
"Yeah," Josh agreed, relieved Zack was finally showing some signs of life after sitting here for thirty minutes.
"Hell yeah, we did," Tanner said enthusiastically.
"You guys got a cigarette?" Zack asked. He deftly produced a black Zippo from his pocket, emblazoned with the Marine Corps logo.
"Dude," Josh said with mock concern, "they give you cancer."
"If they looked as dangerous as they are, you'd run like hell," Tanner added, also seeming grave.
"So what? I'm gonna die in the Middle East anyway." Zack held out his hand, not even turning around. Tanner handed him a Camel, handing one to Josh and taking a third for himself.
"You serious, man? Who says you're gonna die in the Middle East?" Josh asked.
"Family destiny, man."
"Not everybody in your family who's served has died over there."
"Enough have." Zack lit his cigarette and handed the lighter off to Tanner, who handed it over to Josh.
"Maybe you'll go over there and kill like a hundred rag heads, and you'll come back and get all the pussy," Tanner suggested.
"All the pussy, Tanner?" Zack asked, taking in a drag, letting it out. He sounded genuinely amused now.
"Oh, yeah, man," Tanner nodded eagerly. "All of it."
"Can't believe I lost my shit like that today," Zack said; now he sounded like he was talking to himself. "I can't do that again. Marines don't do that."
"Your rep's good," Josh assured him. "Everybody knows that Luke Harris is a fuckin' douchebag."
"You say that he spazzed out?" Zack asked. "He saw our work?"
"Yeah. He totally freaked out and left. Nobody's seen him since he found his locker."
"Did the administration like what we wrote? It's very PC, guys. I think it's definitely "in" right now."
The three teenage boys had a good laugh over that one. They partly were giving The Finger to the whole wide PC world with GO BACK TO IRAQ SAND NIGGER. It was their way of saying what they really thought of two things: political correctness and fake Americans from the Middle East. Today had been flipping off two birds with one finger. Beautiful.
"I bet we're gonna get dragged into some dumbass assembly tomorrow," Tanner mused. "Some kinda 'Everybody needs to be tolerant and understanding' horseshit."
"It won't make any fuckin' difference," Josh declared. "All the real American kids can't stand jerkoffs like Luke Harris. Administration can't make us do shit."
Zack nodded, pulling the smoke in, breathing it out. "Fuckin' terrorists. We'll get 'em all someday."
"Damn right we will," Tanner agreed.
"Fuckin' A," Josh agreed.
"Thanks for looking out for me today, guys," Zack said. He hated himself for showing weakness, for breaking down, however briefly. He was going to have to toughen up, no matter what. But he also appreciated his friends.
"No problem."
"We got your back, man." Josh hesitated, and then added, "Look… you wanna talk about your brother… I mean, we'll listen."
Zack knew they would. He didn't need to ask for friends, or prospects for maybe getting some action this weekend. What he did need, what he wasn't getting, was an end to the pain. Dad was dead, David was dead. So many family members he'd grown up adoring were gone, having given everything to Corps and country. And the others who could've helped him were always deployed overseas or stationed at some base far away, only able to see Zack a time or two a year. Zack knew that getting rid of Luke Harris wouldn't change anything. He'd still miss the people he missed, and hate the ones he hated. There'd be someone else pissing him off at school tomorrow, and then someone else once Zack ran him off.
The goddamned Middle East. It was a fucking meat grinder. Good people went in one end, flag-covered coffins came out the other. All the war did was turn the handle. But that was how it had to be, so long as there was a battle to win somewhere. One day, Zack looked forward to doing his part. For now, he'd have to just make life hell on the kids who were just faking at being Americans.
There were times- brief, traitorous moments- when Zack hated the Marine Corps far more than he hated Iraq, more than he hated Luke Harris and everyone like him. The Corps had forced him to live a Spartan existence growing up, living in one crappy house after another as his father's career as a Marine officer dragged the family from one base to the next. Zack had become outgoing and confident early, making friends quickly and enthusiastically, knowing always he would lose them soon. Taking Dad, his older brother, his cousins, and handing back cased flags and medals.
Tormenting kids like Luke did not put an end to the pain, but it did ease it, even if it was only for a short while. A brief respite from the agony, from the bad and good dreams featuring his dead relatives, from the pain of knowing they'd done it all- given all- for him as much as anyone else… even a brief respite from that was worth it. Doing all this let Zack vent his anger and gain temporary relief from his pain. Set against that, what was Luke Harris, anyway? He could go fuck himself.
He didn't belong in this country. None of those people did. Zack sometimes wished things could be different, but some peoples, cultures, and religions just did not mix. It was how things were, how they'd always been. Zack couldn't change that. Nobody could.
But determined to be tough, stoic, to bear all his burdens- as much as possible- on his own, Zack kept these thoughts to himself. He trusted Tanner and Josh with his life, but didn't need to bother then with every thought that entered his head.
"I know. Thanks," Zack said, nodding again. He took in a long, deep drag, then let it out slowly. He looked up at the sky. It had been sunny, but now it was becoming gray, overcast. Probably gonna rain. "Semper Fi, motherfuckers," Zack said to nobody in particular. "Faithful to the Corps."
"Semper Fi."
"Semper fuckin' Fi, dude."
"Nice," Zack said in approval. He took one last drag from his cigarette, then tossed it away. "You guys wanna play some COD at my place?"
"Sure."
"Why not?"
"All right." Zack stood up. "Now let's get outta here before somebody sees us."
A/N: The middle school I have Luke Harris and my OC, Zack Owens, attending is a real one. Other than its location, however, I know absolutely nothing about it. This is not any sort of comment on what life at that public school is really like.
I set the story on May 4, 2015, one day before the episode I set this story in aired. It was mentioned by David Harris when he spoke to Gibbs that a particularly bad incident happened with Luke the previous day, and he came home and "destroyed his room" before disappearing. Since NCIS sets its episodes more or less in the present day, I went with that here.
The name Owens refers to two things. First, struggling yet promising Marine recruit Private Owens, a major character in the plot of the 1957 movie The D.I., starring Jack Webb as Technical Sergeant (addressed at times as Gunnery Sergeant or Gunny, and wearing the insignia of that rank) Jim Moore. Second, the 35-ton light BattleMech, the Owens, from the BattleTech universe, centered on the tabletop game. Since Private Owens comes from a Marine family, I sort of went with this idea that since he successfully becomes a Marine in the film and carried on the family legacy, maybe descendents of him and any siblings or cousins did the same.
Zack Owens, fairly or unfairly, has more or less decided to blame the Iraqi people and to an extent all Arabs/Muslims for the losses his family has suffered in the wars America has fought since September 11, 2001. He associates so much pain with Iraq and with the Middle East that he hates that region and everyone who's from there.
To a degree, Zack may even feel fatalistic- that the war will go on long enough to draw him in and quite possibly get him killed in Iraq, and he is angry that it all has won no easily definable victory so far. He is still dealing with a lot of pain from losing close relatives in the War on Terror and has allowed that pain to turn into resentment towards fellow students of Arabic and Middle Eastern descent. Zack also believes Muslims cannot be Americans, stating the two "don't mix". Like a lot of people who are prejudiced he is *very* certain he is in the right.
However, also like many people who are prejudiced, Zack Owens is not some soulless psychopath, either. I condemn bullying in all its forms. Bullying is putting someone else down on basis of popularity, looks, physical strength, race, religion- you're picking something out about them and trying to make them feel low and small. Bullying is not "making men", nor does it "serve a purpose". There is not a single useful lesson that can be learned from bullying. It doesn't "toughen you up", and the proper response from adults is not to simply say the kids subjected to bullying need to be tougher. We do not need a society of victims, where everyone is a winner regardless of merit. But we do need a society with compassion, with decency, with humanity and honor. Bullying is acting without those things. Whether it is done to intimidate subordinates in the workplace or "show them who's boss", or done in school for popularity or out of personal insecurities or prejudices, it is wrong. No one ever needs to "be the bully" to succeed or get somewhere in life.
Zack Owens bullies Luke Harris harshly, as shown from this one day at school, and while he has some humanity in his skewed reasons for it, I don't at all mean to suggest that all bullies have this behind their actions or anything like it. Zack dehumanizes his victims, like Luke, while he treats those he sees as equals fairly. More than one real school bully is probably that way.
My point is that not every bully has some problems at home or inner pain. Some just choose to behave that way. Some have sociopathic traits, some are showing off for friends, some are just jerks. There isn't any justification for bullying. Even if Zack Owens has pain that drives him to target kids at school like Luke Harris, what he is doing is still wrong and very at odds with the ethics and traditions of the United States Marine Corps. Many alpha males and bullies wind up in the Marines, attracted to its warrior culture, but that does not mean that what they stand for is what the Corps stands for.
Zack saying "So what?" in that bored way and the description of it is based off Archie Costello in The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier. His line "Semper Fi, motherfuckers" is inspired by Sarge in the 2005 film Doom. Detective Bobby Monday from the 2012 film Premium Rush is referenced both in some dialogue and in Zack Owens' manner as he intimidates Luke Harris in the locker room.
The "If cigarettes looked as dangerous as they are, you'd run like hell" line is directly referencing a commercial discouraging underage smoking that I've seen a few times. It may be slightly anachronistic, since it may have first come out after the airing of the episode this story is set in, but I kind of liked the idea of this adult-made PR campaign reaching a couple of members of its intended audience and then completely failing to make the intended impression, as these things often will. Even so, you can't blame 'em for trying.
UPDATE: I would also like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story so far: earthdragon, VG LittleBear, DS2010, and TheNaggingCube, the last three of whom have all reviewed my work in the NCIS universe multiple times now. I am appreciate of any reviews for my work, and one of my favorite things about the NCIS section of this site is that it is actually one of the site's most active and any work you post is almost guaranteed a review or two- a rare thing on this site.
In addition, I want to thank VG LittleBear for their constructive criticism- rightly and justly given- about Chapter 2. I made further modifications based on that, adding the cricket. I hope it doesn't come off as rushed; it was actually emotionally hard to write as I worked to added it into the story. It amazed me how easily this addition fit into the story, like it wasn't so much being added as it was filling a hole in the plot that had been there before. I based the cricket off a short film I saw once.