Disclaimer: The Galaxy Rangers are not mine. I wish.
This story's not for profit, just fun.
Rated PG for language and a few
semi-lecherous thoughts.
The Ordinary Guy
Sometimes
I feel like I'm back in high school – awkward and out of place, the teachers
are hostile, and there are always people ready to kick my ass if I step wrong.
OK, so
maybe not that last part so much. Walsh
is a good guy for all he's brass and he's supposed to be a hardass. My unit?
That's another story.
My captain's a cyborg with a bazooka for an arm. Two great kids, but a few problems with the
wife. Not that it's his fault or
anything. His wife is stuck in cold
storage – or as a table decoration in Queenie's boudoir. Depends on which part of her you're talking
about, really.
Don't
get me wrong. Zach's a cool guy. A real stand-up type. It's just that… damn, man. I know more than most of the planet about
advanced technology, but part of me can't get past wondering how the hell you
shower when half of you is bionic.
Then
there's Goose. Hey, before you laugh at
the name, let me point out that the man is six foot eight, built like Hercules,
and is not known for his sense of humor.
Yeah, he smiles, but it's usually as he's tearing your arms off. Worse, he's sweet on Niko. Oh hell no, he doesn't say anything,
but he doesn't growl at her, either.
That's gotta be some sort of declaration.
Which is a
pity, because Niko is one lady I could seriously imagine spending long quality
stakeouts with. Long legs, long hair,
eyes like the Caribbean Sea – after they cleaned it up. Oh, yeah, she's smart as hell, but it's
hard to think about her IQ sometimes. I
mean, damn. The woman is
gorgeous, sexy…. And I'm sure she knows I think so. Did I mention she reads minds?
I'm equally
sure that she hasn't said anything to anyone.
If she had let it slip, then Goose would have administered the
aforementioned ass kicking, and we would not be having this charming
conversation.
So where do
I fit in? Well, I'm a computer
wiz. I can hack into anything ever
made; don't tell Walsh I said so, but the BETA mainframe is not nearly as tough
a nut to crack as Q-ball likes to think it is. I don't have a tragic history or a traumatic childhood. You could plumb the depths of my mystery
with a long swizzle stick. Unlike some
people, I even have a last name. But
for all the cool things I can do, I'm fairly normal. Which, for this unit, is saying something.
Don't get me wrong.
I'd go to the wall for my teammates.
However, it's late, and I'm pleasantly drunk, and if you'll forgive me
for saying so… this sucks. I'm
charming, debonair, chivalrous, and intelligent. I'm in shape, have all my own hair and teeth, and it's a rare
moment when I don't think I'm good-looking.
You'd think that women would flock to me. But nooooo. They
flock to Goose. What the hell? He doesn't need all these other women, he's
got Niko. Of course, he's also got an
inferiority complex almost as big as he is, so maybe he doesn't notice all
those melting looks our resident redheaded mindbender slides his way.
I do. Dammit.
Out of the kindness of my heart,
I've tried to give the Goose-man a nudge or two, but the big guy just
growled. Let me tell you, after you see
Goose put somebody through a steel wall, you learn to respect the man's
growling. You'd think that, as a
professional courtesy, he would respect my expertise in the art of courtship,
but he tends to ignore anything that doesn't pertain to mass destruction.
I've dropped a couple of hints in
Zach's ear – the bionic one, so I know damn well he heard me – but he just
tells me to butt out. So then I tried
to sound out Niko – man, I am a glutton for punishment, aren't I? - but she
just blushed and looked inscrutable.
And hell no, I'm not going near Goose again. Steel walls, remember?
Well, the hell with it. I've got more experience in the art of
amour than all three of them put together, but nobody wants my advice. They deserve whatever happens to 'em. I will be watching from a safe distance. If I suspected they knew about the betting
pool I started, I'd be watching from an even safer distance. Hey, the Doctor is
no fool. Can't afford to be.
I'm just the ordinary guy.
- Fin -
Dedicated
to Carolina von Totth, because she needed a laugh
February 2001, by Kelly Smith
