"You wanted to see me, sir?"

The middle aged officer looked up from his desk to see the young captain standing in the open doorway, saluting. He momentary studied the young man before him. He was just below average height and stocky. His dark hair was done in a crew cut style that made his head look oddly flat (or maybe he just had a flat head).

He stood and returned the salute. "Yes, Skipper. Shut the door, if you would. Have a seat." After shutting the door, the young man sauntered into the room and eased himself into the seat with the extreme confidence that earned him his Captain's rank at the young age of 25, solo missions at the age of 28, and the command of his own unit at the age of 30. The officer held up a manilla folder. "I believe I have found the man you are looking for."

The captain leaned forward eagerly, his ice blue eye shining with excitement. "The weapons specialist?"

"Yes". He handed Skipper the folder. Skipper opened the folder and read through the information.

"Rico. Age: 28. Rank: Sergeant 1st Class. Specialties: Explosives." He glanced at the pictured. "That's an interesting scar he has there. Bar fight?"

"No. An explosive that he was making went off prematurely. We have no idea how he ever survived that blast. Even so, it gave him that scar and severely damaged his larynx. The man very rarely talks because people can't understand what he's saying."

"Well, I'm not looking for a communication specialist. You say this guy is the best?"

"No one can handle weapons like he can. And he's a top-notch hand-to-hand fighter too."

"He sounds perfect!"

"But, Skipper. There is something I should warn you about. The man is crazy."

"Well, you need to be a little crazy to be in my unit."

"No. I mean full-fledge psychotic. The man is uncontrollable. He's fine, so long as he has his explosives to create or weapons to clean and maintain. But he obeys no one. And nothing seems to work on him. There are no disciplines that get him to cooperate. He does want he wants to do. He's a very dangerous man."

"I like danger."

"I'm not kidding, Skipper! That man is a walking disaster! He once destroyed a bar."

"A lot of soldiers get into fights."

"No. He destroyed the bar. Tens of thousands of dollars worth of damage. He sent three men to the hospital. It took two tranquilizer darts to bring him down. There's no stopping him when he goes full-blown psycho."

"Well, you needn't worry, sir. I'll make him obey me." Skipper smile confidently. "I have a way of making people do what I want."

The older man chuckled. "Skipper, you don't have to make people obey you. They willingly do so. Do you think Kowalski would have joined the unit if you weren't the one in charge? He would have joined even if you hadn't offered to make him your second-in-command. He agreed before I even told him about the unlimited lab supplies."

Skipper chuckled too. "I'm sure he squealed like a girl when he heard about the lab he was getting." He chuckled again, but then gave himself a little mental shake. "But about this Rico. Do you know where I might find him?"

The officer looked at the clock. "Well, it's not lights out, and it's not time for dinner. So he's either at the firing range, or in the training hall teaching the others how to land on the mat."

The men saluted each other and Skipper turned to head to the door. But as Skipper reached for the handle he heard over his shoulder, "one more thing. The man has a doll he plays with."

Skipper turned to his commanding officer, with a look of disgust on his face. "He has one of those creepy blow-up things?"

"No. A doll. A Ms. Perky doll, to be precise." The look of disgust turned into disbelief. "But I would advise you to not mention the doll to him."

"Why not?"

"Remember that bar I mentioned? That happened because someone made the mistake of calling that doll a 'toy'."