.

Jack "Pulse" Estrada

...

*Beep! Beep!*

The smartphone woke him from his deep and dreamless slumber. Everything was a haze. He blinked his eyes a few times to fight off the lingering drowsiness, while his vision adjusted to the darkness. He was in his room, wearing his undergarments, with the mother of all headaches. The beeping little gizmo told him that it was half-past four in the morning, a mild surprise at that. It had just been less than a couple of hours since he had returned from Rainbow's night in the town. Tagging along suddenly seemed like a bad idea in hindsight.

The thought caused him to cuss in his head. Whatever scant strength he had on his body, he used it to get off the bed and head to the bathroom, lurching a bit like a zombie. He did his business, brushed his teeth and washed his face, then went to his closet to don his PT gear. He graced his bald head with a wool winter cap, shielding him from the harsh morning cold of England. And before he knew it, he was out of the barracks and into dusk-lit courtyard, marking the first steps of his morning jog. He'd have to take breakfast later.

Almost immediately, he realized that he was no longer the early bird he touted himself to be. A few members of Team Rainbow were already making their laps around the Base's runway, adjacent the "brand-new" Kill House at Building C. The guys wearing their white-and-brown PT uniforms were already far away, prompting the man to pick up the pace as best he could. Trailing behind them was a woman, judging by her lithe figure in the distance, who donned a different pair of jogging pants. He recognized her right off the bat, but he opted not to open his gob and greet her.

Discipline. It came with being a military kid, despite how clichéd it sounded. Every Saturday, Mr. Mark Peterson would rile him from his bed before the sun had risen. If a tap to the face didn't do the trick, a splash of cold water would. Then an hour-long lap around the base- Seymour, MacDill, Edwards, where his parents were posted at the time didn't matter. He detested this strange family bonding of theirs when he was young, but it grew on him as he got older and became his own man. The morning jogs were hardcoded into his being no matter where he went. Perdue, Quantico, and now Herefordshire.

He missed that life, much as he wanted to hide it. Best not waste any more time.

…

After a hot shower and a quick bite at the cafeteria, he went straight to the second-floor Staff Wing, which was located at the Base's refurbished Ops Center, designated Building A. It was already time to clock in to start his shift.

And by 'shift', it meant working as an intelligence staffer, which was basically the same job he had just a few years prior. In other words, paperwork: more so than the usual fill he had at the FBI's field post in LA. Strange to think that even a top secret counter-terror taskforce, backed by the highest powers in the UN no less, was not at all exempt from the bane of the modern office. To an outsider, Rainbow was probably all about physical training, practicing with firearms, and taking down the bad guys in style. The reality was far less glamorous; if there was no action going on, the Team was studying operational notes, managing inventory, signing forms, and so on. And as an 'intelligence staffer', the job practically tripled, essentially demanding that he be a one-man HR department.

The added workload was in part due to the ruckus those masked psychos had caused a few months ago.

"You know we can do this later, ja?", Monika Weiss complained.

"Nuh-uh. The boss wants all fingerprint re-calibrations done before 0600..."

He held her hand on the biometrics scanner, waiting for the beep. When it did, he looked at his monitor again for the correct feedback, which came out as a bright green tick on a checkbox. Her right thumb was now recognized by the system.

"…And that's that.", Jack smiled behind his eyeglasses. "The VR system should be able to recognize you now."

The disinterested look from the woman turned into a grin of mild amusement; it was elation for finally reaching the end of a tedious bore. It was a hallmark of 'overachievers' and 'poindexters' everywhere: disliking the mundane where something more productive could be done with their time. The way Monika sighed and leaned back on her seat made her relief all the more palpable, proving Jack's assertion. Briefly, he wondered if the woman was simply overreacting. Or how she was even able to remain cognizant despite the hangover that nearly everyone was having right now.

Ah, crap. I'm overthinking again.

"Can I expect to see you there later?", she continued.

"So that you can kick my butt again? Probably not."

She chuckled then left Jack's cubicle, to which he shook his head and rested his hands on the back of his neck, stretching for a bit. Monika probably thought that she'd already won whatever imaginary contest she had conjured in her head. It made sense in the spirit of competition, seeing that she was the only one who could pinpoint his Cardiac Sensor's signals. Or whatever it was that the VR thought was a Cardiac Sensor. Would've been nice to square off against her, as the Team often did, but alas he was not in the simulation's Operator Pool for this morning. He had bigger fish to fry.

Recently, the Director had called for a massive upgrade on the Team's security protocols, part of the 'paradigm shift' that she had been doling out for a while now. Jack's job was to help Mark and Meghan, the Team's other intel people, ensure that everyone's electronic files were protected. The addition of a dual-phase verification system made it similar to how the Korean Army ran their Cybershield Network. As for the whys and the whats, they didn't matter to him; all he knew was that the fingerprint calibrations had to be accomplished as soon as possible. This explained why he hadn't gotten out of his PT uniform yet.

He opened a bright green folder on his desk. A quick glance on the list of names instantly told him that today was going to be a long one.

"Next?", he called out.

Another woman came in to the sound of squeaky running shoes. A short bob cut, a pale complexion, and both hands in the pockets of her jogging pants. She, too, had just returned from her morning exercise. Her clothes still had patches of sweat, on her back and on her clavicle. It was the same woman he saw during his laps earlier today.

"Good morning.", Jack greeted.

"Yeah, yeah…"

She sat at the chair opposite his desk, walking rather lazily as she went. She was clearly unenthused to do what was asked of her this morning- 'more office hogwash', as perhaps interpreted by her brain.

"…let's get this over with."

Polish, early thirties, ex-PMC, and an extensive military background. She wasn't wearing her trademark cap today, possibly because it was awkward to wear while jogging around the Base. Her hair still had traces of her favorite green dye, but she did a sloppy job of cleaning it off. A good enough hint that she still despised Six for 'asking' her to drop the edgy-teen look. Professionalism's sake, and all that. She's a real piece of work, no doubt, with a whole lot of issues carried by her droopy face. In a single glance, Jack summed up her life. A few years as a biometrics intern was to blame for that compulsion.

"Okay Ela. I just need you to place your right thumb here."

"Is this really necessary? I need to get to the shooting range."

"Sorry, but the boss said-"

"Before 0600 hours. Yes, I already heard."

Stubborn and dismissive; Jack expected her to respond as such. He knew the type quite well. Quite a few Air Force kids he met while growing up also had that streak of independence in them. Oftentimes, it was the older brats, and usually their obstinate character was born from the parents' influence or neglect. The bald man could relate very well either way.

Once again, he held another's hand to the scanner and waited for the beep. The cinch was that Ela's disinterest for the whole thing, a miniscule difference in angle and pressure that caused the device to fail to register her prints. Jack didn't say a word, though, and simply went on the process like normal. Again, and again, and again until the desired output finally came to his computer screen. It was enough to elicit another laugh from the woman, whose smug look was made even more bare.

She was making fun of him.

"You're such a… whatdidMeghansayagain … a 'Boy Scout', you know that?"

"Afraid not. Didn't even join the Cadets."

The proper term was 'Civil Air Patrol', but Jack thought 'cadets' was more familiar to a foreigner's ears. Then again, perhaps this chick didn't really understand what 'Boy Scout' meant either.

"Heh. Let me guess, mommy didn't want your feelings to get hurt?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"You're sullen, quiet… You don't strike me as a fighter."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Care to prove that on the range?"

Ela finished her sentence with a mocking tone, causing the bald man to raise an eyebrow. She seemed keen on picking on him, or anyone really, just to pass the time and be cut loose from this rubbish. Blatant disregard for authority and an rebellious streak- her psych profile sure didn't lie one bit. If he was younger, Jack would've started to feel his patience wear thin at this point, seeing that the teasing was deliberate. But he knew better. He had been to so many places, met and left behind dozens of families, to know how to deal with such pressure. The best way to do that was to be on the level. Honesty, as good ol' dad taught him once.

"Actually, my mom wanted me to join the Cadets.", he started. "Builds character, she said... But she didn't want me in the military. My dad didn't it take well."

"Ooooh. Another 'big happy family', huh?", Ela gave a conceited comment.

"Well, we did have a lot of good times…"

He leaned back on his seat.

"…Christmases were fun, Thanksgivings, birthdays... Dad often woke me up every Saturday morning so that we can jog."

"That's nothing special."

"Well, that's the Air Force for you."

The statement caught her off guard for a while.

"Wait. Your father's a soldier too?"

"Yup. Tech Sergeant. Mom's an Intel Officer... Been that way for as long as I can remember, no matter what base we're posted on…"

The smug look on the Polish girl's face was quickly replaced with genuine curiosity. The change of topic worked well, even though Jack felt a bit guilty tugging strings just to get her off his back. But he needed some venting to do. It had been far too long that he spilled a slice of his life's story to a stranger. In a way, this was a small victory over her as well.

"…My folks didn't get along on many things. So yeah, you can say we're a 'big happy family'."

"They fought a lot?"

"Bickered, more like. Never physical, I'll give them that much. But it grew toxic enough that my parents had to split…"

The tone in his voice became much more somber, designed to elicit sympathy from any person, no matter how stubborn or abrasive they were. Judging by Ela's expression, it was working. One more victory for the bald man to boast. It would be rotten to manipulate people's feelings this way, but the girl needed to learn her place.

Or was it the real reason? All that Jack wanted was to get this part of the day as quickly as he could. There were plenty of things that needed his attention, and this little sideshow was not helping at all. And just like that, he realized that he had been acting the same way as this girl and Monika, in his own stoic, nondescript manner. Impatience was building up and he didn't know it. Perhaps it was a subconscious attempt for his mind to find something more… 'consistent'. Stability from a childhood defined by constant reassignments and relocations, often not knowing what the future held. A sense of permanence, now that he had a good thing going in England.

Only time could tell if he had been doing good job so far. Something to make his folks proud, wherever they might be.

"…Eventually my mom got custody of me. I started taking after her more.", Jack ended his story. "It's why my last name isn't Peterson."

"…"

"But I never forget what my dad taught me. Discipline, and all that."

"Yeah… I know how that is…"

Ela all but dropped the air of mischief in her behavior, glancing her eyes to the side and avoiding contact with his. For the moment, she was a manageable subject, which was all that an FBI agent needed to get his job done. Even if he was ex-FBI. Old habits die hard, just like that bit with the morning jog.

"Family, am I right?"

"Hmph.", she scoffed.

With the biometrics logged and recorded, it was time to move to the next person. Jack smiled at the woman, telling her that her time was up and she should free up the chair for another Operator. She obliged with a small grin of her own, then reverted to her usual 'edgy' self, hands in the pockets and all. Such an intriguing character, like that one girl he met all those years ago. Ela would've been a microcosm of his life if things turned out differently. The past is past, unfortunately. The present demanded greater attention.

The man looked at the bright green folder on his desk again…

Dang, I almost forgot…

He saw one little detail that Ela would like to hear.

"Speaking of which, I heard we got another new blood coming here today.", Jack called to her. "Should be arriving in a few hours."

"Huh?"

Behind his glasses, he gave her his own brand of an impish smile.

"Your sister."

...

Author's Comments/Notes: In this bit, I wanted to explore Pulse's past as a military brat of divorced parents. Moving from one Air Force base after the other might have made it hard for him to form attachments with people, which is perhaps the reason for his obsession with analyzing human behavior. He doesn't strike me as someone who mopes over his parents' divorce, though, so I got rid of the angst. Also, I wanted to delve into Team Rainbow's day-to-day routine, which doesn't always involve shooting and training in the original Tom Clancy novel.

As you might have inferred, the next chapter will be about Zofia. Please look forward to it!