Author's note:
Hey, everyone, I'm back again and with a short update for you all. As this is an interlude, I felt that it was appropriate for it to be posted by itself.
The chapter title for this one: So I called up the Captain, is a lyric from the Eagles song Hotel California, from the album of the same name. And from the title, I suspect you will all know who it is going to feature.
As always, my thanks to everyone for all the support you give me; you guys are amazing.
So, let's get on with it. Enjoy.
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Interlude: So I called up the Captain
Entropy; the term that describes the nature of all processes to tend towards disorder and chaos. If there existed an opposite to this phenomenon, it would be personified by Captain Claudia Brooks. The woman who organises that which is disorganised; turns anarchy and chaos into order and routine. Take her office for example. When she had inherited it from her predecessor; Warden Norton, it had been akin to a swirling mass of chaos, caught within the vortex of a whirlpool, which in itself had been battered around inside a tornado. A man ultimately overtaxed by the heavy burden of his position, Norton had left the room a filthy mess of files, newspapers, empty energy drink cans, half-drunk mugs of coffee and boxes containing the decaying remains of leftover pastries. In short, it had made the one owned by Dr Betty Director seem like a poster-girl for good office hygiene. Then its current owner had acquired it and in a single day, transformed it into the gleaming; pristine room it was today.
Captain Brooks sat upright in her high-backed leather desk chair, a cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee sitting neatly atop its saucer and situated with precision in its allocated spot on the desk; a polished metal coaster beneath it. Everything that resided on the large oak surface had its place and looked as though it had been positioned using a ruler and the spot memorised. Except Brooks had needed no measuring implement. Her eyes alone had been enough to establish everything's location with such laser-like precision. This also applied to every other piece of furniture and object in the room. Everything had been assigned its place in the same manner and the Captain had memorised them all.
Brooks' eyes roved over a file, which was currently displayed on a large flat-panel monitor. After she'd met with Elizabeth the previous week, she'd started a background check on the freelancer known as Quinn Phy-Knight and dug up a plethora of data. From school transcripts, newspaper reports of her activities and even several police reports obtained from the department in the girl's hometown, the Captain had begun to build up a picture of the 'hero'. Naturally, she'd gone hunting for the Global Justice file on the girl too but found it to be both classified and above her security clearance. Finding this both surprising and suspicious, she'd called in some favours to try and acquire it and redoubled her efforts with the data that she'd already acquired. Thus far, neither had borne fruit.
What are you trying to hide, Elizabeth? Brooks mused, scrolling through the file she herself had created so she could add in some more details from a newspaper report she'd just read about the girl engaging Lord Montgomery Fisk at the Forbidden City in China. While the monkey obsessed villain had escaped, much to the Captain's irritation, it had been a large win for the freelancer and occurred while Kim Possible had been AWOL. Alas, the report, while both interesting and coming from a somewhat reputable source, shed no light on what her superior could be hiding. While it might not tell me what Elizabeth is up to, this report does seem to align with the other evidence. Despite how uncouth and downright irritating she may be, I'm beginning to suspect that this Quinn Phy-Knight would come out on top in a ranking of all the eighteen and under freelancers and that she's held that position for over a year. The Captain had come across HeroTV's power rankings for the category in question several days ago and while they had corroborated with her theory, she had ignored their assessment due to the fact the power rankings were calculated using shoddy metrics and guesswork.
Brooks finished typing, closed the file containing the newspaper transcript and placed it neatly inside the box which housed the others she had already combed over. From a second equally neat box; her subordinates had quickly learned not to provide her with disorganised or messy paperwork, she withdrew the next file and opened it; another police report. Unlike Kim Possible, whose vigilantism had been downright ignored by the Middleton PD, it seemed that Quinn Phy-Knight's early activities had not been. She began leafing through the report. At least some local law enforcement is still doing its job. Although if it had been me, I would have ensured this girl had been suitably punished. Her expression soured when it transpired that on the charge of accidental destruction of property, which had occurred while the freelancer had been pursuing a handbag thief and consisted of a broken shop window, crumpled car bonnet and a shattered street lamp, Quinn had escaped with just a slap on the wrist. With the number of infractions I've uncovered already, she should have been sent to a juvenile correction facility a long time ago. Where she should have been cellmates with Kim Possible.
Captain Brooks finished reading the report, made some notes in her file, which including an estimated total for all the damage the freelancer had caused during her 'missions'; now sitting at several thousand dollars and closed it over. It joined the previous one in the box, however, before she had the chance to pick up another, the phone on her desk began to ring.
"Brooks," the Captain said on picking up the handset and bringing it to her ear.
"Captain," the voice of Lieutenant Boyle replied, his tone already quivering that way it did when she was angry with him.
What's happened this time? She had the thought and before the man had the chance to continue, barked, "what is it, Lieutenant?"
"There's a video phone call for you…" the Lieutenant answered sheepishly. "…Captain… I think… I think it's the General of the UN security council!"
If it had not been for the fact that, by and large, the Lieutenant was a competent individual, Brooks would have laughed off his suggestion as ridiculous. However, that combined with his current tone, caused her to take note. If there's anyone who can terrify Boyle to the same degree I can, it would certainly be the General. However, if that is the case, why do I merit a personal phone conversation? Surely, it's not to reprimand me for the convict's escape, as she would have left that to Elizabeth. "Very well, Lieutenant, patch her through."
"Yes, Sir," Boyle replied and the line went dead.
No sooner had she hung up the handset, a video feed appeared on her computer screen. The image of a stern woman in her early fifties, but who still retained tight features and icy blue eyes, stared back at her. While only her head and shoulders were on display, Brooks knew that the General, much like herself, was dressed in a pristine uniform; greying blonde hair tied up and concealed by her hat. She met the woman's firm gaze with one of her own.
"General," Brooks greeted firmly, no hint of give in her normal tone, regardless of the fact the woman on the screen severely outranked her. Unlike the Director, the Captain had not and never would, pow-wow and kiss-ass; she'd earned her rank and position through old fashioned hard work. The people above her might not like her and she did not care. Her record spoke for itself, meaning they'd be mad to fire her.
"Captain," the General replied, her tone every bit as steelie. "It has been quite some time since we last spoke."
She's not wrong on that count. I was still in my first stint here the last time I spoke with her. Brooks could recall the incident perfectly. Six years ago, not long after Elizabeth had been appointed as head of Global Justice, a meeting had been held between the Director, the UN security council and the heads of each arm of the organisation, which included the penitentiary. However, Warden Norton had taken one of his many leaves of absence a week prior and so Captain Brooks had deputised for him. If no one had known who she was prior to the meeting, by its conclusion, everyone did. The most junior rank present, she had stood up during the discussion regarding the new direction of Global Justice and vehemently argued against it; no one had listened... put in the nicest way possible.
"Yes, it has," Brooks replied, polite but backed with steel. "Is there something in particular I can do for you, General?" she then asked, their singular prior meeting having been enough to tell her the woman was not one for small talk.
"Perhaps," the General replied, "however, first a question, Captain: what is your current appraisal of the global situation?"
This caught Brooks slightly off guard. Well, that's interesting. The last time we met, I got the distinct impression that she disliked other people's opinions, especially those of the lower ranks… mine in particular. However, she had little time to ponder what could have prompted the woman to both ask the question or demand, for that is exactly how it would have been phrased to Lieutenant Boyle, the audience in the first place. "In short, General, dire," the Captain replied, choosing not to offer up more information than asked for. Since she contacted me, that means she wants something, so she can very well dig for it, which will hopefully give me more of an idea as to what exactly she's looking for.
The General's lips thinned slightly. "Would you care to elaborate on that assessment, Captain?"
Gladly, but I want to know what you're after first. "If you want such details, General, I'm sure the Director would be happy to share them with you."
"If I had wanted the Director's opinion, I would be talking to her, not you, Captain," the General replied sharply. "Now, your assessment on the current global situation, if you please."
The sheer level of infuriation that her superior had clearly held back, almost caused the corners of Captain Brooks' lips to curl upward. Being denied what she had asked for so brazenly was unquestionably a foreign notion to the woman and that she, a 'lowly' captain, had just had the gall to do so, must have been somewhat of a culture shock. And in some small way, it felt like the first step towards justice for the put-down she had received all those years ago. So, asking my opinion isn't just a segue into some other point; it's part of it. Fair enough. Well, since you asked for it, I'll give it to you.
"The situation is spiralling rapidly out of control, if it has not already, General," Brooks began, keeping her tone level and almost dispassionate, as though they were discussing whether to repaint the walls of Global Justice HQ sandstone or camel. "The global economic recovery has stalled, restorations projects are being halted left, right and centre in even the most affluent of regions and unemployment, if not curtailed, is steadily creeping towards a level not seen since the great depression of the 1930s," she deliberately paused to await the General's response.
"I am aware of all this, Captain," her superior said crisply and Brooks could sense that the woman was unable to stop herself from adding, "I could have gleaned such details from even the most ineloquent tabloid."
The instruction that she should continue was left unsaid but amused the Captain nonetheless and she had to once more suppress a smile. Well, if you'd wanted my opinion on a particular aspect of the situation, you should have asked for it. At this point in the conversation, any other woman of similar nerve to Brooks would probably have taken their winnings and fled the casino, whereas a lesser one would never have dared to play the game in the first place. However, Captain Claudia Brooks was not done. "Supervillain attacks are increasing, not decreasing, global panic is steadily on the rise and one need only look at the recent election results in countries such as South Korea, New Zealand and the United Kingdom, to tell that the masses are steadily losing faith in their governments." She paused briefly to see if her words caused any change to the General's stony visage, but could detect nothing. It seems you would be a worthy advisory at the poker table, General. Finally, she decided to scratch the surface of the topics that interested her superior. "Global justice is unable to cope with the demands for its assistance, is running out of suitable facilities in which to house the growing number of convicts it catches and is being propped up by a completely unorthodox, unreliable and, if you ask me, illegal freelancer market."
It was oh so subtle and had she not been staring intently at her computer monitor she probably would have missed it, but Brooks was convinced she'd just saw the left corner of the General's mouth twitch. Has something I've just said caught your interest? While she phrased it as a question, the Captain knew exactly what would have caught her superior's attention; her deviation from the Global Justice narrative. And she could not help but let out the lightest of internal laughs at the irony of the situation, given it had been her disagreement with the direction of her superiors that had resulted in the putdown she had received six years ago. Has the situation become so dire that you are finally starting to see my point of view, General?
"You believe the decision-makers in charge of Global Justice; individuals with greater experience and knowledge than yourself, Captain," every word the General spoke was laced with contempt and the use of Brooks' 'lowly' title almost mocking, "have made an error in their judgement?" It was not so much a question but a challenge, "do you dare to suggest that we, including myself, have made a mistake?"
Had it not been for the fact that, many years ago, Elizabeth had virtually assured that she would rise no further than Captain and that she had compounded that harsh reality herself the last time she had spoken out against the direction of Global Justice, Brooks might have spared a thought towards how her next words would obliterate her promotion prospects. As it were, she replied resolutely, "yes, General, I do." A heartbeat of silence passed before she added a singular word, "several."
If her nerve had surprised her superior in any way, the woman showed no outward sign of it. Instead, the General simply held her gaze; icy-blue eyes locked onto merciless greys and said, in the same derisive tone, "so, in your infinite wisdom as a simple guard captain of a penitentiary, you feel you know better than those who have led Global Justice over the past six years?"
Captain Brooks' gaze did not waver one millimetre. "Considering the serious deterioration that has occurred in the global situation over the past two years, yes, General, yes, I do."
While the derision vanished from the General's tone, the ice-cold firmness remained. "Humour me then, Captain. What do you consider the single biggest mistake that has been made by Global Justice these past two years?"
This time Brooks could not fully suppress the slight curl to the corner of her lip. While her superior had been the one to ask to be humoured, she was the one to currently be amused. So, my opinion doesn't just form part of what you are seeking, it is what you are seeking. And I have a strong suspicion that by sticking to my guns, I just passed some sort of test. However, I wonder just how many of my opinions you'll be willing to listen to before that scorn becomes one-hundred percent genuine? The Captain then took a moment to contemplate the question. There were several things she could have suggested that constituted the single biggest mistake the Global Justice top brass had made in the past two years. Squandering funds on an earth-to-space cannon out of fear the Lorwardian's would return, for a start. Not heeding recommendations she herself had made to further improve the prison security. Or her current bugbear; the over-reliance on freelancers and in particular a certain Kim Possible. However, she chose none of the above.
"There is not one, General," she replied and waited for the slight flicker from her superior's eyes that indicated the woman wanted a further explanation. "The mistakes made over the past two years have simply been in line with the long-standing policy of Global Justice as a reactionary organisation. Wallpaper over the same crack that existed long before the Lorwardian invasion. And I'll admit, the wallpapering that had been done in the years prior had been of such a high standard that few could tell there was a crack underneath. But, over the past two years, that crack has widened and the wallpaper has covered it less and less. However, I fear we are at a stage where the two are now of similar widths." She held back on adding, "which is exactly why you are talking to me," just in case she'd misread the situation.
She needn't have bothered, for the General soon replied, "since you claim to have been aware of this, as you so finely put it, crack, before minds of greater experience and knowledge than your own, where was the mistake made?"
A thin smile formed on the Captain's lips. Even though this could all turn out to be a meaningless conversation, this was far closer to justice than she'd ever dreamed to get. "The sixteenth of January 2001; a meeting to formalise the new direction of Global Justice after the removal of the previous regime." It was Brooks' turn to inject some scorn into her tone, "I'm sure if you strain your memory, you will recall it, General."
The tightening of her superior's jaw suggested that the woman had just grit her teeth. "I do, Captain," the General practically spat. "What is your point?"
"My point, General, is that only one individual at that meeting had the gall to stand up and say what needed to be said; that the direction of Global Justice as an organisation was deeply flawed." Captain Brooks paused, drinking in the look of infuriation that now painted her superior's stony visage. "That is where your mistake was made, General. On that day, there existed a once in a generation opportunity to fundamentally change the organisation; to move away from simply wallpapering over the crack and to instead properly fill and smooth it over with plaster. Alas, it was decided to simply change the pattern of the wallpaper."
The two women's gazes remained locked and even though she did not care, there existed a moment where Captain Brooks thought she might have gone too far. That she would have to endure a thorough berating, followed by a formal warning about her conduct in the post in a few days. However, the metaphorical guillotine blade did not fall. Instead, the General seemed to swallow her displeasure like a foul-tasting medicine, then said, "there are several individuals who were present at that meeting who would stand by the decision they made, claim that there existed no evidence at the time that an incident such as the Lorwardian invasion could, in the realms of sane probability, ever occur."
I'm willing to bet that you're not one of them, at least as far as standing by the decision you made. Otherwise, you wouldn't be having this conversation with me.
"Indeed, many of the individuals at that meeting would still vehemently oppose the proposal that you made, Captain. That your ideas would encroach on civil liberties, breach multiple international laws and serve only to drag the existence of Global Justice into the public eye."
When the woman paused, Brooks elected to take the opportunity to cut through the bullshit, "but not you, General."
"Personal opinions in regards to hindsight will do us little good in the here and now, Captain," the General replied matter-of-factly. "However, since you were the only one to be in favour of such proposals then, tell me, how would you handle the current situation?"
It became abundantly clear from her superior's tone, that they had finally reached the crux of the conversation; the reason for it in the first place. And it caused Brooks to smile internally again. Now, this is interesting and if I am not mistaken, it seems that at least one individual has finally woken up and realised just how far up our legs the manure has reached. There would be time for her to ponder the wider implications of this later, for now, it seemed her words from six years ago had finally registered in someone's brain and she did not intend to allow another six years to pass before it happened again.
"First and foremost, General, let me be clear, we have long gone past the point where my suggestions from six years ago would be adequate to solve the current crisis, rather they are simply the starting point. Global Justice has always operated as a reactive organisation. Supervillains attempt to conquer the world, unleash global chaos or enact whatever other nefarious scheme they have hatched and Global Justice responds to this threat, puts a stop to it and attempts to apprehend the perpetrator(s)." She paused to take a sip from her neglected coffee cup, only to discover that it had gone cold. "This model of operations was inadequate six years ago and since the Lorwardian invasion, has become completely infeasible. If we are to win this war and make no mistake, General, the situation is exactly that, if not in the form that we recognise from the history books, Global Justice needs to become a proactive organisation."
The slightest of nods from her superior's head followed her words and the General complimented it by saying, "continue, Captain."
"Global Justice needs to stop focusing its resources on reacting to supervillain threats and instead use them to prevent them from occurring in the first place, by locating and apprehending those that are planning to commit them."
"Your suggestion from six years ago?" the General asked, though Brooks knew that it was not confirmation of that particular fact the woman sought, rather how it would help the current situation.
"Yes, but as I already stated, it is only a first step." Captain Brooks then firmed up her tone and intensified her stare. "And let me make this perfectly clear, General, it is my assessment of the situation that we are long past the point that this war can be won without significant cost, at least in the short to medium term."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that it will be impossible for us to regain control of this spiralling situation without making several sacrifices in the process. Sacrifices that will not go down well with the deluded fools at the UN that still cling to the belief that some freelancer can jet around the world and solve everyone's problems for free," she added extra bite to those last words, fuelled by her recently dismissed theory about Kim Possible having orchestrated last week's jailbreak.
The General looked ponderous for a moment. "I see. Irrespective of any other points that we may agree or disagree over, I am in agreement with you about that one; sacrifices will have to be made in order to win this, as you so astutely put it, war, Captain. However, the nature of those sacrifices and to what end they shall be made is still a topic on which debate has barely begun. And I suspect there may be a lot of debate before any meaningful decision is made."
"Just remember that debate costs time, General," Brooks interjected, "and time is a commodity that we are in short supply of."
Her superior raised a warning eyebrow, an indication that she had already allowed far more 'insolence' to slide without reprimand than she normally would. "That remains to be seen, Captain, and for the moment, is not your concern. Now, I think I have taken up enough of your evening, so I shall say good day, Captain. Perhaps it will not be six years before we speak again."
Brooks had barely uttered the words, "good day, General," when the video feed ended. Reclining back in her chair, the Captain played the entire impromptu exchange over in her mind. What exactly are you planning, General? she asked herself. For I very much doubt that you have not already devoted a great deal of thought to this subject and given due consideration to my old suggestions. She pondered this for several minutes, but could say nothing for certain save for one thing; the General's patience with the current regime was either rapidly running out or had already done so. Oh dear, Elizabeth, we are in trouble. A thin smile accompanied that thought.
A knock on her office door quickly drew her out of her musings and she glanced at her wristwatch; 6:00 pm exactly. Sitting up straight, her eyes moved towards the door's frosted glass panel. "Enter," she commanded, though her tone lacked a little of its normal harshness.
The door opened and a trolly crossed the threshold, after which followed Corporal Martinez. A short woman in her mid-thirties with tawny skin, messy shoulder-length chocolate hair and large; bright amber eyes, Martinez worked in the kitchens and acted as the Captain's primary meal server and chef. She wore a warm, almost exuberant smile on her lips, the kind that to those who did not know her, would seem to be one that no amount of rain could dampen. A smile that for the longest time had irked Brooks. Like it and its owner had been deposited within the walls of her facility with the sole purpose of annoying her. Needless to say, their relationship had started out more than a little bit rocky.
One of the many new individuals transferred to the facility to bulk up the guard staff in the wake of Dr Lipsky's last escape, prior to the Captain herself arriving, Martinez had been a Global Justice cadet and worked her way up to the rank of corporal. However, within six months, the woman had found herself on Brooks' radar, having been one of several she'd felt lacked the necessary steel to be one of her guard staff. Another six months and three performance reviews later and the Captain had wanted to fire her, but had been prevented from doing so by a clause in all the new staffs' contracts, which gave them job security for two years, baring gross misconduct on their part and displeasing the commanding officer did not count; Brooks had checked. Stuck with an employee she did not want, the Captain had been forced to get creative and so reassigned the woman to the kitchens, as was her prerogative to do so after having fulfilled the relevant performance review criteria. However, she had given Martinez the alternative of resigning her post, which the woman had refused to take, much to her chagrin. Nevertheless, it had kept the woman out of her way for a few months and she'd almost forgotten about her, until one morning she had shown up with her breakfast. Long story short, after her normal meal server had been forced to quit his post and no one else had wanted the job, Martinez had taken it. And, much to Captain Brooks' surprise, had proved to be more than competent in the role.
"Evening, Captain," Corporal Martinez said brightly, as she wheeled the trolly to the centre of the room and closed the door behind her.
"Good evening, Corporal," Brooks replied, trying to maintain her usual firm tone, although she could not deny that her conversation with the General had left her in somewhat of a good mood.
She must have failed in some respect to hide her disposition, as Martinez quickly said, "you're in a good mood tonight," in a tone that suggested she found this somewhat of a surprise, but a welcome one.
It infuriated the Captain no end that she must somehow have been slack in her greeting and that the corporal had picked up on it, even though she was convinced she had done nothing out of the ordinary. Saving and then closing her file on Quinn Phy-Knight, Brooks rose from her chair and crossed the room to the round table at which she ate her meals. While she had the entire top floor of the guards quarters to herself, which contained a dining room that could comfortably accommodate a party of six, she never ate there, finding the trip between buildings a waste of precious time that could be put to better use. In fact, apart from when it was time to sleep, she never used her quarters; her office was her home.
Corporal Martinez had just finished setting her place and must have seen her approach, for she quickly pulled the chair out for her to sit down. What does she think this is, a restaurant? She already knew the answer to that. On one particular Friday night a few months ago, instead of her normal single course meal, Martinez had served her a full three-course meal. It had only been after eating and thoroughly enjoying it that Brooks had discovered that the corporal had spent the whole afternoon making it from scratch. Another had followed a week later and another the week after that. And while it had felt rather strange and somewhat awkward, it had quickly become part of her weekly routine.
"Have a seat, Captain, and I'll bring your starter over," Martinez said when Brooks stepped in front of the chair and hurried back over to the dining cart. "It's scallops with pancetta and quail's eggs tonight."
Like most of the foods the corporal had cooked for her each Friday night over the past few months, the ingredients caused Brooks to raise an eyebrow. Is she leaving early on a Friday morning and driving for several hours to find somewhere that sells this stuff or has she found a way to get it shipped in with the normal food deliveries? She'd had this thought several times before and finding herself more agreeable to superfluous conversation, asked, "Corporal, how are you acquiring the ingredients to make these three-course meals for me?"
A plate with four neatly arranged stacks, each containing one portion of the aforementioned ingredients, was set down in front of her, before Martinez replied, "there is a town north of here that has a wonderful market, with a whole range of stalls selling fresh produce. I buy the bulk of the ingredients there."
Brooks raised an eyebrow. "The nearest town north of here is three hours away."
"Three hours and fifteen minutes actually," Martinez said. "I have to leave at five am to ensure I get there early enough to buy everything I need and then start driving back by eleven, so that I have enough time to cook." The woman then poured her a glass of ice water and set it down on the table.
This knowledge raised an ethical dilemma for the Captain and while she had come to enjoy these Friday nights, she felt compelled to ask, "are you using work time and funds for this excursion?" If the answer to either came back as yes, she would have to put a stop to it, for she could not justify the use of Global Justice time or money for the sole purpose of her own enjoyment.
"Of course not," Martinez replied, sounding as though she had preempted this question weeks ago and with a lick of surprise that it had not been asked of her sooner. "I've been working four full days and two half-days; Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, so that I can make the trip in my own time. I also pay for everything out of my own pocket, as I love cooking these meals."
It would be a lie to say that Captain Brooks did not feel somewhat taken aback by this revelation. And in hindsight, this was something she really should have queried weeks ago. She's using her own time and money for this… she was not sure how she felt about this. However, she knew she could not let it continue. "Corporal, from now on, send me an invoice for the ingredients you purchase," she paused to ponder a moment, "in fact, send me one for the previous weeks too. I'll ensure you are suitably compensated."
"That's generous of you, Captain, but unnecessary," Martinez said, tone sincere. "I always get my money's worth out of it."
Brooks met the woman's warm amber eyes with her sharp greys and the corner of her lip curled ever so slightly. "That's an order, Martinez." The Captain then looked at the glass of water in front of her for a moment and decided to allow her good mood a little free reign. "Now, I think I'll have a glass of wine tonight. There are a handful of bottles in that cabinet," she pointed to a low ornate liquor cabinet, one of the few pieces of furniture to survive from her predecessor's tenure and purely due to the fact it was a quality antique, not what typically got stored inside it. "Anything will do."
"Ooooh, you are definitely in a good mood tonight," Martinez said as she practically bounced over to the liquor cabinet. "However, I can't just serve you any old bottle of diesel fluid with seared scallops. It'll need to be a chenin blanc or a chardonnay to properly compliment the flavour." The corporal then laughed, something few other people ever did around Captain Brooks. "Or at least according to the internet. I don't drink wine personally; tastes like vinegar."
The sound of the cabinet doors opening and Martinez rooting through the bottles reached the Captain's ears, but she was not paying much attention, her mind having returned to the last thing the General had said to her before departing, "perhaps it will not be six years before we speak again."
"Looks like you're in luck, Captain," Martinez called out happily from the liquor cabinet, "there's a bottle of chardonnay. However, if you want it chilled, you'll have to drop a few ice cubes into your glass." The woman laughed again, "it's supposed to be totally uncouth, but I won't tell if you don't."
The Captain watched contemplatively, as the corporal returned with the bottle of wine, unscrewed the cap and poured her a glass.
"So, why the good mood, Captain?
Brooks played the General's parting remark over once more, "perhaps it will not be six years before we speak again," and the thin smile returned to her lips, I have a feeling it will not. She then glanced at Martinez, "change, Corporal," she replied with satisfaction, "long overdue change."
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Author's note:
So, there we are, all done. I know it was a short update, but I promise the next one will be longer.
Whenever she appears, I always enjoy writing Captain Brooks, she is so badass. I specifically loved the contrast between how she and Betty handled the General, which I hope has given you all a clear idea of just how strong and formidable this woman is. Hopefully, it won't be too long before we see the good Captain again.
Ok, so the good news is that the next update is pretty much done (just some tweaks to be made, I think) and the next one underway. However, my hope is to get back ahead of you guys a little bit, as it will really help me out at the point in the story we are now at, namely a lot more KiGo scenes. So, I will probably wait two weeks before I post again, but if I feel far enough ahead, I'll post it sooner.
Thank you all again for your support and I look forward to seeing you all next time out.
Warmest Regards
K1G0