After spending a small amount of time with Psyche Out, who was happy to oblige her after his last run in with Beach Head, Jezebel made her way to the Ranger's office. Once there, she banged on his door loudly.
"Enter." Beach Head was getting sick of interruptions and he did not need to guess who was likely at his door. Though she was later than he had expected. He waited, eyes on the report he was reading, trying his best to stay calm.
Jezebel entered silently. She quietly laid a folder on Beach Head's desk then crossed her arms. She waited. He looked up at her then back to the folder. Finally, he picked it up and looked at its contents. Inside were the papers he had wanted filled out on her, completely finished and signed. Psyche Out found her completely sane and competent. Any out bursts she had resulted from interactions with psychotic asshole sergeants that needed the plug removed from their ass.
Beach Head growled. He would get Psyche Out for his participation. He glared at Jezebel. "Very well, I think you have a job to do." He returned to his reports, ignoring her.
"I am doin' it, Sir. I am here ta help ya." And to annoy the hell out of ya if I want. She looked at him blankly, having to fight down the smirk her musings encouraged.
"It would help me if you removed yourself from my office." He did not look up. He was not being baited any more.
"Then I guess I can't help ya, cause Psyche Out said we are ta work on our differences. Duke agreed." Duke was a trump card. Psyche Out felt that Beach Head's complex to follow orders to the letter could be used against him. All she had to do was drop Duke's name, even if neither she nor Psyche Out had spoken with the man.
"It would help our differences if you removed yerself from my office," he said a little louder. When he heard no movement, he looked up to find her glaring at the top of his head. "Alright. I'll make it an order."
She continued to glare. Things were not going as well as she had hoped. Of course, she was not sure what she had really expected him to do. "Duke said for me ta stay here until we can tolerate one another. Ya tossin' me out is not toleratin'."
"Well then, shall we go speak to him?" Phrased as a question, it was obviously not. He stood and walked toward the door.
"Iffen that is what ya want. I am sure he wants ta take more time out of his busy schedule ta deal with this again taday. I'm sure he'll be right pleased ta see us. Won't say a word bout it t'all." She hoped they did not find Duke. She doubted he would like her using him as some ploy in trying to rile Beach Head.
"If it gets you out of my hair..." He just walked on.
She shrugged non-chalantly and followed him. "Think he's in with Hawk." She hoped he might refrain from going to the CO's office. Of course, he would not be Beach Head if he was stubborn and did so. "They were needin' ta talk about somethin' or other." Surely he would consider not interrupting them.
"As soon as we get this settled, they can go back to it." He was not being swayed. He smelled a rat.
"Yes, magin' they can. Course, ya can interrupt 'em while I stand outside an' wait. I ain't gettin' bitched at for interruptin' 'em." If he was going in there, she was staying outside and hightailing it before he had the chance to realize she was seeking purchase in his office just to annoy the hell out of him.
"Oh, no. Since we need to work this out, you're goin' in with me. That is an order, Sergeant." She was weaseling out of something. He had seen plenty of the yahoos on base do the same thing. She was reminding him of Shipwreck at the moment or Falcon. Two of his biggest pains. Of course, Jezebel was quickly replacing all of them at the top of the list.
"Yes, Sir, Beach Head, Sir, your highness, Sir," she drawled. He growled and knocked on the door.
Inside, Hawk frowned, having not expected any interruptions. He looked up from the report he was reading. "Enter." He was slightly surprised when Beach Head and Jezebel entered. She obviously wanted to be somewhere else, and Beach Head looked like he wanted to kill someone. He had heard all about their recent 'debates'. The whole PIT was starting to buzz with when they were going to kill one another. He suspected Shipwreck even had a betting pool going on it. "Yes?" He asked them.
Jezebel remained silent, face blank. "Sir, I needed to speak with Duke."
Hawk frowned a little more. Why would he come here if he wanted to talk to Duke? "He isn't here." He looked between the two wondering what the hell was going on. He surmised he likely did not want to know.
"Yes, Sir, you wouldn't know where I could find him?" He could plainly see Duke was not there and had likely not been recently.
"Is something wrong?" And why could he not find Duke?
"No, Sir, just needed to clear somethin' up." He did not elaborate further.
Hawk sighed internally. He was getting too old too fast thanks to these people. "He's in his office as far as I know."
"Thank you, Sir." Beach Head nodded, as did Jezebel. They both left the office, heading down the hall toward Duke's. "Meeting, huh?" He did not look at Jezebel.
She shrugged. "Plans change."
Beach Head did not respond as he stopped in front of Duke's door. He knocked... and knocked again. They received no answer. He looked over at Jezebel. "Looks like we'll have to take care of this later."
"If ya say so, Sir, but I can't disobey his order." She thanked whatever power that she still had a card to play, an ace up her sleeve. "I have ta work things out with you."
"We'll 'work' things out at a later time. I have things to do." He did not want to spend the rest of the day in her presence.
"Like I don't! Ya think I want ta hang around with a smelly asshole?" She growled loudly, drawing the attention of several Joes that were between destinations. One just happened to be Shipwreck, who felt this was a prime opportunity. He whistled and grinned, starting up a betting pool on the spot.
"Then I suggest you go do what needs to be done," he growled back, ignoring the others around them.
"I'm tryin' but ya just keep gettin' in my way!"
"Fine, you suggested I have an assistant, well yer it, sister. I have a desk full of reports for ya to type up." He smirked at her. He could tell she liked doing paperwork as well as Shipwreck liked PT.
"Alright. I'll type it if ya answer me one question." She smirked back.
"And that would be?" He could not fathom what she would ask that could make her smirk like that.
"Is that movie, 'Deliverance', really how things are like down there?" Coming from her, that question was a little absurd. After all, being from West Virginia, she had a worse reputation than any Alabama boy. He turned red and stalked off before he decked her. He heard that more than he liked, and on top of everything she had been putting him through, it was a final straw. "Guess that means I ain't typin' up them reports?" She called after him. He just kept walking. "Yeller belly!" The betting went up as soon as that left her lips, on how long before they killed each other to how long before Beach Head lasted before blowing. The wait for the latter was short.
Beach Head stopped in his tracks. "Alright, you wanna be a bitch, let's run ya like one. Yer gonna do the tower the rest of the day." He motioned for her to head there in front of him.
She rolled her eyes. Could he not be a little more original? "Really, ya aren't very original," she drawled as she walked passed him, almost sauntering. "By the way. If I'm the bitch, what does that make you?"
"The dog trainer." Which was ironic as much as he seemed to hate dogs.
"Ya ain't one of them funny fellers, are ya, that likes his bitch way too much?" She eyed him a little funny.
He looked her up and down. "Believe me, you aren't even close to bein' my type, honey. Now get movin'!" He pulled out all the stops, making the course as hard as possible.
"Mind if I get more comfy?" She unlaced her boots, pulling off her socks then her shirt and fatigues so she stood there in only a sports bra and biker shorts. "Alright. I'm ready ta go."
"Then go." He did not even time here, just making her run it again and again.
She took off fast, maybe faster than she should have as long as he planned to make her run. She ran better than she had with the greenshirts, not having to slow down to help anyone. Every time she started to get tired, she drove herself harder. She refused to slow down, her mind set on the task at hand. Any slowing down she did, which over time grew more and more, her mind ignored. She was doing the best her body would allow.
A majority of the Joes that were currently at the PIT, had gathered around the tower off and on. Reaper had also started watching, worried at how far Beach Head would drive Jezebel, and how far Jezebel would let him. Shipwreck kept close watch, money riding on the outcome. He was also enjoying the show. The sprinklers and Jezebel's sweat made her already skin tight outfit and her skin shine. Many other male Joes watched with appreciation as well.
Beach Head stood there watching. He was not interested in how she looked, only that she ran it over and over. He would run her until she gave in or killed herself, whichever came first. Around midnight, the decision was taken out of his hands.
Jezebel's body was giving out no matter how hard her mind wanted it to go on. Everyone could see the fatigue in her movements, on her face. Her body finally gave out, in one place it should not. Her mind still pushing herself to go on. As she made it to the top of the tower, yet again, her foot slipped on the wet wood. Her other foot caught and she pitched off the side. The fall was about fifteen feet, and her body landed hard in the sand below. She swore to herself mentally, uttering a simple "Ouch." as she tried to regain her feet. She was not going to quit until Beach Head got off his high horse and said it was enough.
Reaper ran to her side, as did a few of the others. "Ma'am, are you alright?" She attempted to help her up.
Jezebel brushed off Reaper's hands and any others that made to help her. "I'm finishin' this," she told them. Walking back to the tower to do just that. She knew she had broken ribs, could feel them rubbing and swelling. She had also dislocated her little finger on her right hand. Beach Head watched, letting her go back at it if that's what she wanted.
After scaling back up the tower and picking up where she left off, Jezebel reached the end a lot slower than she had before. Once there, she walked back toward Beach Head, intent on continuing. Reaper went to Beach Head before she made it back. He had to stop Jezebel before she killed herself. "Sir, it's been hours." All she got was him eyeing her, not saying a word.
Jezebel made it to them, popping her finger back into place and bitching about it like it was no big deal but still a nuisance. "Damn. One of the few I've never broken or hurt before."
At that point, Lifeline had seen enough. He had tried several times already to talk Beach Head into stopping the whole mess, and her falling gave him grounds to supercede Beach Head's authority. "She can't continue," he informed Beach Head with a piercing glare.
Beach Head looked Jezebel up and down. "I suppose not. Get her patched up. I want her able to run it again tomorrow." He walked away without a second glance.
Jezebel hit her knees, her mind finally registering that her body was allowed to stop. The jarring of doing so made her start to cough, blood slipping passed her lips. "See ya then, skunky," she drawled to his back. Reaper moved to her side again, trying to give her help. And, once again, Jezebel brushed her away. "I got it, kid. I ain't dyin'."
Reaper sighed. Stupid bunch of crazy people. "Fine." Cassie walked away not going to repeat the mistake of trying to help her. If Jezebel was dumb enough to let herself be put through that, then so be it. She had stayed over longer than she liked to make sure Jezebel was not killed. Obviously, she had wasted her time.
Lifeline scowled at Jezebel. In ways, this was as much her fault as Beach Head's. "You aren't doing anything tomorrow except staying in bed." He took her arm.
"Let go. I can walk on my own." She did not fight him, though, her body not listening to her mind any longer.
"You cannot. I'll help you if you like it or not." He continued to scowl. He hated when any of the Joes put themselves through such hell, let themselves be hurt out of pride or for any other reason.
"Well I don't like it," she informed him. He ignored her comment, leading her to the infirmary. He hoped that her lungs were not punctured. Hawk was going to go through the roof.
Meanwhile, Flint had followed Beach Head to give the Ranger a piece of his mind about the whole thing. He, like Lifeline, had tried to shut down the whole episode. Unlike Lifeline, however, he outranked Beach Head and Jezebel, and both had ignored his orders to cease their actions. "Beach Head, stop," he ordered as he caught up to him
"Yes, Sir?" The sir was dry and sarcastic, much like the way Jezebel addressed him. He had no real love lost on Flint, that was no secret.
"What the hell was that?" Flint demanded. He wanted an explanation for why two sergeants, one of which was a commander of the Joes, would behave in such a manner. He had seen people get under Beach Head's skin, but never like this.
"I believe it's called discipline," he answered as though Flint were an idiot.
"Discipline! Are you insane? You could have killed her!" He was livid. Jezebel had been brought in because women were few in G.I. Joe, and because her drill skills were as good as Beach Head's, Slaughter's, and Leatherneck's. They had hoped to, after time, have her training the women, since Beach Head had such a problem with women in the military.
"I am not, and she's fine." He did not want to talk about it. He had to be up early and needed to get a shower and some rest.
"Fine? She'll be in a bed for at least a week!" The man was insane, no matter what he said.
"Then she has no business bein' here," Beach Head answered simply.
And there it was. She was a woman. Surely Beach Head had not put her through all that just to show that a woman was not cut out for the job! Flint felt there was more to it, but he could not figure it out, yet. "Is that so? She ran that tower better than a lot of the guys do, maybe better than you!" She had not. Beach Head had designed the tower and knew it well enough to get through it faster and easier than anyone. The Marines also did very well on it, better than she had to a degree.
"I have things to see to." He started walking away. He was finished with their 'talk'.
"Duke finds out about this..." He called after him. Lucky for Beach Head, Duke had been off base since early that day. And, out of wanting to win the betting pool, no one had gone to find Hawk, either. Shit was likely to hit the fan when all was said and done.
"Yeah, yeah," Beach Head answered, not turning around. At the moment, he did not care who found out about what.