Leaving the surly Beach Head behind, Reaper and the others made for the mess hall. Jezebel followed silently, Killer at her side. Once there, Reaper separated from the rest, getting her food and sitting alone. She was there for the job, not to socialize. Jezebel, though tempted to join her, sat with Cover Girl and Lady Jaye. She knew Reaper well enough to read that the other woman was not in the mood for company. Not that she could ever really remember her being in the mood. Both women ignored Beach Head's entrance, the Ranger taking a seat with Duke and Sgt. Slaughter.
Reaper reached down, after she had eaten a portion of her meal, and made a slight gesture with her hand. No one caught the motion but Killer, who was meant to see it. The large dog stood and moved to sit beside her. He gladly accepted the food she passed him and the petting she bestowed. Jezebel, having fallen into casual conversation, had not noticed until Reaper stood to get rid of her empty tray and return outside. As Reaper passed her, she made comment, "Don't go spoilin' that brute, Cassandra."
"Yes, Ma'am," Reaper answered, patting her leg for Killer to follow her outside. The dog did so without second thought. Both recognized that Jezebel did not mind, perhaps even encouraged, their companionship.
Jezebel shook her head, watching them leave. "Great. Lost my damn dog again." Her words were more to herself but easily heard by the other two women.
"Again?" Cover Girl asked, the statement curious.
"They bonded back when the kid was trainin' in boot camp." She shrugged. "Reckon he'll spend more time with 'er like he did before."
"That unusual?" The smirk Jezebel gave her made her worry a bit. The more she learned of the other woman, the more she wondered.
"Meanest, orneriest mutt ya ever been around. Sooner tear yer leg off than lick yer hand." She had trained him better than to behave in such a way, but others never knew that. And, he could kill. He was as much a soldier as the men and women on base.
Cover Girl nodded, wondering if it was safe to let Killer run around loose. She mused that Jezebel had to be exaggerating. The greenshirts were going to find out how much that exaggeration could feel real.
Come 1300, everyone was back at the tower. Almost everyone. One greenshit was missing and Beach Head was going into quite the fit over it. "One more damn time an' I'm stringin' the boy up by his balls!"
His ranting and threats made Reaper raise an eyebrow as a few of the others cringed and fidgeted. Jezebel found it all annoying. They could be doing what the were suppose to while Beach Head ranted. Reaper could not help but wonder what the hell she had gotten into. If the raise in pay was really worth it to listen to Beach Head bitch and moan. If she really got what she earned going through the endless running of the tower.
"Go look for him. I'll run 'em." Jezebel had listened to enough of Beach Head's ire. The man simply bitched too much. He glared at her then stalked off, throwing his stop watch over his shoulder. She easily caught it before turning to the greenshirts with a grin that Reaper did not like. Jezebel was up to something. "Alright, grunts, let's see what ya got when ya have inspiration." Her grin broadened and Reaper knew she did not like the feeling she was getting. She could only fathom what Jezebel had in mind.
Curious, one of the greenshirts could not stop himself from asking. "Inspiration, Ma'am?"
"Killer." The dog moved to her side and snarled low. He knew what was wanted, expected of him.
Reaper smirked, think to herself, Figures. Jezebel was original, creative, and probably crazy. She had Killer trained well.
"Get ready to climb that tower never before. An', seein' as ya can help each other, I want these times cut down, drastically, Rawhides!" Her voice carried over them loud and clear as she noticed for them to line up. Once they all had, she barked out one word. "Get!"
As soon as the word left her mouth, Killer growled and dove at the feet of the greenshirts, tearing pants when the person was not moving fast enough. He left no doubt in the young minds that he would do the same to skin, though he was trained just to instill fear. They took off like a shot for the tower. The small respite they got from being up on the tower ended once they hit the ground on the other side, and to not do so was to face the master of the beast. Killer, though only one dog, seemed quite capable of making himself a pain to all of them.
Beach Head, having found the missing greenshirt, had returned. He paid little attention to Killer and what Jezebel had the canine doing. He focused more on the perturbed look on the woman's face and the cause. Following her gaze, his eyes fell on Reaper. He took a moment to realize why Jezebel was upset.
Reaper was doing well on the tower. However, as the other greenshirts helped one another, she did not. She was falling behind many of them, though still doing better than she had before lunch. She neither offered nor accepted aide. Jezebel was hot about it, especially after telling them to help each other. Beach Head was quickly joining her in being upset. They both waited for them all to finish before either made a move toward her.
Jezebel was the first to say anything. "Line up! Stand tall! Feet apart! Get them shoulders straight! Heads high!" If there was an example to be made, she was going to get their attention as a whole, let them all sweat a moment. "Stand like the soldiers yer suppose ta be!" She barked as she walked through the ranks. Finally, she stopped in front of Reaper. "Don't think ya need help? Think ya can do this all on yer own?" Her voice bit as she yelled at Reaper. Where it had resonated with a simple need to be heard before as she yelled at them all, her voice took on a hard, fierce edge.
"Yes, Sir," Reaper responded more out of habit than anything. In boot camp, they had all called Jezebel sir, separating her from the rest of the instructors. She was harder, meaner, feistier than the others put together. In some way, it made her higher than the rest.
Beach Head had heard plenty of women officers called sir so ignored it and laid right into Reaper. "Ya don't know anything! May be an army of one, but this is a team, girl! Ya may think ya don't need them, but they may need you! I don't want my soldiers dyin' cause ya think your too good to help them out!"
Reaper said nothing, knowing they were not done. She stood tall, eyes ahead, and took what they offered. Jezebel was not long in growling out, "Run it again forwards an' back. No help." She looked to Beach Head then pointedly to his pocket where she knew a remote resided. The tower was old fashioned, but it had been tweaked with several modern advances. He reached into his pocket and got the remote, flipping switches. Sprinklers soaked the course and the ropes over the water started swinging almost violently. "Ready?" Jezebel asked Reaper, though her answer was irrelevant.
"Yes, Sir." Reaper moved to the starting position.
"Get!" Killer dove at her feet as Reaper ran through the growing mud for the tower. Time a bit slower and covered head to foot in mud, she completed the course. Her results were not satisfactory for Beach Head.
"Awful slow, girl! Perhaps you should try it again?" He eyed her and pushed a few more buttons on the remote. More of the obstacles started to move or become difficult in different manners.
Again she started, running it slower yet. Not only was she not use to the differences but she was beginning to fatigue. However, her mind was focused. She would do what was asked, demanded of her because to not would mean not doing all she could. She had to do her best, for Sophie if for no other reason.
"Gettin' slower, Rawhide!" Beach Head looked at the others. "All of ya line up. Doin' it again. Going to help the others, too."
"May I?" Jezebel suggested, standing with the greenshirts. His answer did not really bear on her decision, but she asked nonetheless. She smirked at his nod, taking her stance beside Reaper.
"Go!" Beach Head ordered, all of them taking off. Reaper going strong and fast as she can. Again, she ran by herself while Jezebel helped the others. All of them completed before Reaper. She returned to the start winded. Beach Head was far from impressed. "I want fifty and I want them now," he growled out. She dropped and gave them to him. He snorted as she finished. "Call it a day. Specialized trainin' tomorrow." He turned to leave. "I expect hundred percent from you tomorrow, girl."
"Yes, Sir." Her response was automatic, ingrained. Sir was hardly what she really wanted to call him or Jezebel.
Jezebel shook her head and looked at herself. "Hit the showers!" She barked at them before going to her quarters to do the same. Everyone else made for the shower. Reaper, who only did communal showering when she had to, waited until everyone was finished before quickly showering and changing. Once that was completed, she made her way to find Jezebel, who was, after all, her commanding officer. She was assigned to be her assistant. She located Jezebel in debate with Beach Head. The two were arguing over Killer. She stood back waiting on them to finish, not about to interrupt them. At least not yet.
"Just keep that mutt away from me." He glared at Killer as though the dog was a member of Cobra.
"An' how'm I suppose ta do that when we work together?" She glared at him. The man was obtuse as he was smelly and aggravating.
"I don't know and I really don't care. Just don't wanna be trippin' over his furry ass."
"Trippin'? He's three feet tall! How can ya miss him!"
Reaper figured she should step in or she would be waiting on them to stop arguing the rest of the day. She knocked on the closed door to Jezebel's office before Beach Head could answer Jezebel's last retort. The noise was met with a loud "What!" from both of them.
"Thought I would report in," Reaper answered Jezebel through the closed door. Her superior had not told her to enter, and she was not going to open the door until she had.
"Get in here!" Jezebel ordered while still glaring at Beach Head. She had yet to fork of the daily report he had come to collect. Truth of the matter was she did not have it for him.
"Ma'am," Reaper said standing at attention. Jezebel glanced at her before returning a glare to Beach Head.
"Just give me the report I came for so I can get back to MY work." He was growing sick of the fiery hillbilly woman.
"YOUR work has prevented me from writin' the damn thing!" She growled back.
"Fine, I want it on my desk before the end of your shift. Understood?" Some days he wanted to ring the neck of the person who first decided women should be allowed in the military. They were so damn difficult and bullheaded.
"Yes, Sir, Beach Head, Sir, whatever you say, Sir. I'm happy to oblige, Sir," she sneered at him. He growled and walked out the door, making sure to glare at Reaper as well. After all, she was a woman and had been a pain in the side earlier. He failed to close the door as he left. "Close the damn door!" Jezebel yelled after him, but she went ignored. She growled and sat down at her computer. "Damn fool man. Needs that mask shoved up his ass," she muttered. She then fully became aware of Reaper, who stood before her brow raised by the mask comment. "Did ya need somethin'?" She glared at the other woman.
Reaper ignored the glare, knowing that it was mostly for Beach Head. "Orders, Ma'am."
"Fine, ya want ta do somethin', ya can type this up for me." She threw her report at Reaper.
Deftly, Reaper caught the report. "Where, Ma'am?"
Jezebel stood and motioned to her own seat. "Here is fine by me." She watched as Reaper sat and finished the report quickly and easily. She looked it over once the print out was in her hands. "Well then, type today's while I take this to his highness." She rolled her eyes. "Damn man needs to smoke somethin' and lighten up." She muttered to herself as she left the office. Reaper went about doing as ordered.