Centurion Six #2: The Devil and the Agent from the FBI (Part 3)

Our Story So Far:

Last night, Captains Blaine “Centurion Six” Winters and Jacob “Zulu” Mbeke of the New York State National Guard Enhanced Forces Division (EFD) were called out by the NYPD to consult on a multiple homicide in the south Bronx.  The case seemed like routine “skrag” gang violence until our heroes stumbled upon evidence that implicated a former teammate in the murders—ultra-human drug addict Jason King.  However, before Blaine and his team could begin to investigate, they were attacked by a killer cyborg robot-monkey mounting a highly advanced stealth/security system and a small-caliber machine pistol.  In the ensuing firefight, a police officer was killed, the crime scene burned to the ground, and the cyborg robot-monkey escaped.

EFD commander Colonel Joachim “Aguilá” Rodriguez calls in the FBI to help with the investigation, and Special Agent Nora Mahoney is assigned to the case.  But Ms. Mahoney finds the EFD to be a strange and disconcerting assignment.

Note: To read the story from the beginning, click the Centurion Six keyword down below the post.

* * *

Blaine was sitting on a chair next to Jason’s bed when they came in.  He’d been expecting the Colonel all morning, of course, but there was a woman with him that Blaine didn’t know.  Somehow it was the woman’s presence that unnerved Blaine more than the Colonel’s, and this despite the fact that Blaine knew that the Colonel was bound to be pissed from last night’s mess.

Blaine got to his feet as they entered.  “Sir.”

“Blaine,” the Colonel said.  “Sit down.” 

If that was meant as a greeting, it was one that didn’t hold any warmth.  Blaine sat.

“This is Special Agent Nora Mahoney from the FBI.  She’s here to help with the investigation into last night’s events.”

Agent Mahoney stepped up and offered her hand.  She was pretty enough, Blaine thought, but it was a severe kind of pretty.  She stood maybe five-foot-five with straight brown hair, ice-blue eyes, and a decidedly athletic build.  It was the way she carried it that warned Blaine off.  Hair pulled back into something like a ballerina’s bun, dark grey pants-suit that made no concessions whatsoever to her figure, eyes flat but wary.  This was definitely the look of an arch-professional, hardened against unwanted familiarity.  Frankly, she looked like she’d already gone a round or two with the Colonel and come out with something like a draw.  That thought left Blaine a little unnerved.

Blaine stood up and shook her hand and then back down.  Suddenly he was aware of the fact that he was the only one sitting.  The Colonel and Agent Mahoney were both just standing there looking down at him like he was some kind of science experiment.

“Sir, I… uh… I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Look Blaine,” the Colonel said, “in light of last night’s events, I think we need to keep you focused on commanding your team in the field.  You got into that mess last night because…  Well, I hope it was because you so were focused on the situation with the police that you didn’t think about how to deploy your team before you entered that crime scene.  Because if that’s not what happened—“

“Sir,” Blaine began, “it was only s’pposed to be a routine consultation.  But then—“

The Colonel cut him off.  “As I was saying, Captain, if that’s not what happened, then the fact is that you showed gross incompetence last night.  You failed to assess the situation, and you failed to act as the leader of your unit.  And as a result—“

“That’s not fair, sir!” Blaine said.  He couldn’t help himself.  “One minute we’re standing there talking to the cops, and the next minute, we’re fighting for our lives.  Could we have fought better?  Could I have fought better?  Yes.  But once the shit hit the fan—“

“When the shit hits the fan, Captain, that’s when you are supposed to be in charge.  Not going off half-cocked like some schoolyard do-gooder trying to save his friend from the playground bully.  Madre de Dios,Blaine!  What the Hell is wrong with you?

“No, don’t answer that.  I’m tired of having you interrupt me.”  The Colonel reached into one of the pockets of his uniform blouse and grabbed a printout.  He unfolded it and got ready to read.  “You told Shelby, and I quote, ‘Shut it, lieutenant.  Just get your ass down here, time now.’”  The Colonel looked up.  “Hearing that—and the sound of a firefight in the background—Lieutenant Sexton raced down there at Mach 2 in her nightgown where she found you wrestling with… well, I guess we may never know what the Hell that thing was last night because without orders to the contrary, she blasted it all to Hell.  Why didn’t she have orders, Blaine?  Fact is, you didn’t give her jack shit besides a panicked phone call in the middle of the night, and she figured that meant that you were about to get your ass handed to you.

“Were you about to get your ass handed to you, Blaine?  Were you?”

Blaine looked down.  “No sir.”

“No you were not.  Why?  Because you are goddamned indestructible!  Look at you!  You go two rounds with god-alone knows what kind of crazy robotic assassination technology and come out with a couple of cuts and scrapes.  Then you go another three rounds with Jason fucking King, who is perhaps the most dangerous ultra-human ever to come through here, and yeah, he cut you up a little, but look, here you are, still standing strong the next morning.  Anybody else in the world is dead right now, but you, Blaine Winters…  A couple of stem-cell treatments, and the docs tell me you’ll be good as new by day after tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.”

“Dammit Blaine, we need more from you than this.  There’s a time for you to lead from the front, and there’s a time when you need to stop and think.  And you, Blaine, you are uniquely qualified to think in the midst of a fight.  That fire alarm call to Shelby last night, that is the kind of thing that we cannot have.  Not anymore.  You need to learn to lead your team, Blaine.  Leading from the front is fine, but getting so involved in the fight that you’re no longer in command is a mistake that I cannot allow from my New York City field team commander.

“And that’s why Ms. Mahoney is here.  She is here to free you up, so that you can focus on leading your team.”

“Yes sir.  I…”  Blaine nodded reluctantly.  “Thank you, sir.”

 “Good,” the Colonel replied.  He stood.  “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.  The investigation briefing is in half an hour.  Make sure you’re friendly by then.”

“Yes sir,” Blaine responded.  He turned to the FBI agent.  “So… what can you do, Agent Mahoney?”