Iron America Part 6
Okay, let me state for the record, I do not commiserate with anybody about anything. I do not speak to Kinch about his status in the 40's, or anything to that effect. If Hogan thinks I do, well, that's great for him.
I am currently staring at the cause of most of my problems, and wondering how I can kill him, without making it look deliberate. Colonel Hogan stares back at me, holding a large file folder in his hands.
Is it really my fault that the man is a snoop? He was the one who decided to go on a midnight raid through my backpack for some reason. So he found the forum papers I printed off. Big deal.
Not so, unfortunately for me.
"Young lady, I have tolerated you for almost three weeks now. These papers," he shook them in my face, "have made me doubt what little trust I have given you." Sheesh, what's his problem? Most of those replies aren't even mine.
I open my mouth to talk him out of whatever he's planning on doing to me (probably an unmarked grave), when someone interrupts us. Thank the gods.
"Colonel Hogan! Schultz is singing that song again!" Hogan looks at me, and a slow evil grin spreads across his face.
"Jawohl, mein Fuehrer," I mutter under my breath, and grab my cell phone. Colonel Hogan had given me the task of getting that stupid song on recording for my big brother's "escape" into the depths of time. Lucky me.
I walk out of the barracks, a storm cloud hanging over my head, as my mom would say. I come across Sergeant Schultz, who is still bellowing that damn song. My question for the day. Why hasn't he stopped singing that song? It's been at least two weeks since we sang that one.
"There's a Mary Sue
In this fic
Main characters all fall in love with her.
Can't see what makes all
These writer's tick,
When they put Mary Sues in the fic," he bellowed.
I walk up behind him, surreptitiously checking my cell phone's power supply again. It still has a full battery, which is good, because I'm going to be using it a lot in the next twenty-four hours.
I turn on the recording feature, and follow Schultz, getting as much of his singing as I can. Just as he finishes the song, he turns around, and sees me putting my phone back into my pocket.
"Was is los?" Busted. I look up, deer-in-the-headlights look slipping onto my face. If he isn't the pushover that the show described him as, I'm dead. Literally and figuratively.
"Nothing, Sergeant." I cross my fingers behind my back as a semi-conscious afterthought. He nods, still looking very suspicious, and continues off across the compound, and I can't help but wonder how involved he is in the true comings and goings of the camp, as opposed to the show.
Later in the tunnels, my loyal puppy dogs-errr, bodyguards-, including Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, and I are sitting at a large table, which is strewn with various scraps of technology.
"So, what exactly is the point of me being here?" I ask, still not completely sure why Hogan wanted me to be here. I'm not, just for the record, a very good mechanic. I am also not a computer engineer, or a radio operator, or a software/game designer.
"Because," Kinch says patiently, "You are the only one who understands the basic theories and technology behind the watch." I stare at him, open-mouthed.
"What? I may have read every single one of John Ringo's books, and Eric Flint's, and John Birmingham's, but that does NOT make me an astrophysicist." They give me blank looks, and I mutter a rather rude Spanish word under my breath.
"Never mind. Let's see what four or five seasons of MacGyver and CSI have taught me." Again, I get blank looks, and I feel a sharp pain of homesickness. I would love to be able to hold an intelligent conversation about future things with someone, but I'm not allowed anywhere near the radio, or my brother. But, I am in an involuntary vow of non-contact. At least until all of this blows over.
Over the next hour or so that it takes for us to construct a reasonable facsimile of the watch, I learn more about the heroes than I ever knew before. By before, I mean pre-actual meeting them.
Carter has never lived in Muncie, Indiana, but he thinks it would be nice to move somewhere different after the war. That was an unusual thing, and then I told him that everyone was a bit confused over where he had actually lived during the show's timeline. He just smiled, and shook his head. Obviously he's not going to tell me everything.
Kinch, the lovable guy, has actually won the Golden Gloves championship. I realize that he is definitely someone I never want to meet down a dark alley some night, because he's slightly creepy. And I mean that in a good way, should anyone ever try to misinterpret my intentions.
Newkirk is definitely a great person, though, like in the show, he doesn't seem to want to show how caring he is. Maybe that's because I'm around. His mother was a dancer, and he only has one sibling, contrary to popular opinion. When he found out about the multitude of siblings that people had given him, he laughed for almost three minutes straight.
Soon, we had a replica of the watch, which could be wired for sound. I seriously didn't know, or think, that I could do anything that turns out this good, because, while I can fix some things, another part of it tends to break.
I turn my attention back to the conversation at hand, which is apparently about us time-travelers. I immediately go into alert, wondering what the general opinions about us are.
The conversation is currently about Colonel Hogan. "You know, I'm surprised that the colonel hasn't cracked yet." They throw a significant look in my direction, before continuing. "I don't see him as being to happy anytime soon."
"Happy? Hogan? Are you using those in the same sentence?" Ah, Corporal James, my loyal bodyguard. He's been hanging around me too long. His speech patterns, and most likely his brain, have been affected.
However, the only thing I can actually focus on is the use of the two words "Happy" and "Hogan." I am immediately reminded of a character from the comic Ironman, and I start cracking up.
After a few minutes, someone thinks to ask why I am on the floor, laughing hysterically. I manage to gasp out "H-happy H-H-Hogan!" and collapse again, giggling madly.
Finally, someone goes to get Colonel Hogan, and the medic, Joe Wilson. I had almost gotten myself under control, until Sergeant Wilson asked what had set me off.
"All we said was that we didn't think that Colonel Hogan would be happy until all of the women, and the man upstairs were gone. And then Corporal James said that Happy and Hogan didn't belong in the same sentence. Than she just started laughing."
I just start off again, hearing the Happy Hogan thing again. I can't help myself. It has been so long since I have had a good long laugh. Even if it as at the expense of the Heroes.
Finally, I manage to get control of myself, and sit up. "Sorry. I just had to do that. It was an inside joke." I grin sheepishly, at Colonel Hogan, who still looks murderous. Figures. Those replies were not my fault.
"Comic book reference sir. It won't be around 'til 1963, if you want to read it." He just shakes his head, sighing. Wilson walks back the way he came, seeing as there was nothing wrong with me. Besides a mild fit of hysteria.
"We'll talk about those, ah, forum replies later," Colonel Hogan says, looking me square in the eyes. He really wishes he could kill me, even though I only posted a little under twenty-five times.
Oh, well. Once more unto the breach.
GSJessica Note: I asked Iron America to write this chapter bringing back the "Mary Sue" song from chapter 18.
