All-Star: Same As It Ever Was (Part V)
"You've got two minutes, Nate." Kurt White's disembodied voice reminded a sweating Nate Carter as he fumbled with diffusing a ticking time bomb.
This really wasn't how he planned to spend his 23rd birthday
"Vacation days!" Nate growled back. "Vacation days! Hasn't anyone around here heard of vacation days?! And I don't know which wire to snip."
"Want a suggestion?" White responded. "Snip the one that stops the bomb from exploding. One minute, thirty seconds."
"I'm just gonna cut the green one. It's always the green one." Nate said, with a firm nod.
"It's not the green one." White blurted out.
Nate's eyes widened as he said, "But, it's always the green one!"
"Do you remember the bomb diffusion song?" White asked, bemusedly.
"Why the hell would I remember the bomb diffusion song?!" Nate yelled back. "You don't even remember the bomb diffusion song! Literally no one with a life knows the bomb diffusion song!"
"It's to the beat of 'Baby Got Back'," White said, "One minute."
"I'm not singing that." Nate said, bluntly.
"Fifty-five seconds." White replied.
With a sigh, Nate began singing the song under his breath, "Uhm. Okay...I hate big bombs and I cannot lie, you other wires can't deny, when a red is wrapped 'round an itty-bitty black and a blue's nowhere in sight, you snip-"
Nate moved quickly, cutting the yellow wire with gusto. Immediately, the bomb stopped that obnoxious beeping sound the bombs always make in movies and shut down.
"Yellow!" Nate laughed, standing. "Yo, Kurt! I got it! I diffused the bomb!"
The door to the small room opened as White and two suited feds walked in. White gave a casual smile as he patted Nate firmly on the back. "And with seconds to spare, Nate. You're practically Bruce Willis. Two years of the best training money can buy and you still struggle with diffusing bombs."
"Nobody's perfect, Kurt." Nate said, defensively. "And bombs are tricky!"
White laughed as he turned back towards the door, nodding at the two feds and briskly walking out of the room. "Come on, we've got someone to meet."
"So you're finally taking me to meet your parents, huh? Oh, what should I wear?" Nate said, following with a grin.
One of the feds flanking either side of the two handed White a folded suit, which he promptly shoved to Nate. "I think Armani should work. But try not to look my dad in the eye, he's still not okay with me dating a black guy."
Nate looked at the suit in bewilderment before continuing, "I- I can't tell what's a joke and what isn't anymore."
"Well, first off, you're not meeting my parents because both of them are dead." White affirmed.
"Condolences." Nate muttered.
"Secondly, I'm very much out of your league. Like very out of your league." White continued.
"Ouch." Nate interjected.
"And lastly, the suit is for making a good first impression." White said, adjusting his tie.
"With who?" Nate asked, scratching his head and arching an eyebrow.
"Who else?" White said, smiling. "The director of Project Patriot."
"Oh. Woah." Nate said, ever so slightly taken aback.
"And my dad -was- a notorious racist." White added as the crew rounded a corner and came to a large, metal door.
"Damn shame." Nate said with a frown, watching White place his hand on the scanner beside the door.
"I know, right? Stand up straight." White responded as the door flew open.
The room on the other side of it was dimly lit and covered in security monitors showing the other agents of Project Patriot engaged in their training. At the centre of the room sat a single metallic desk. A desktop computer sat atop it and, behind the computer, a graying man in a scruffy black suit reclined in his chair at the sight of the two men, revealing a leather eyepatch clamped tightly over his left eye. The man stood, snatching a walking stick up from behind his desk, and approached the Nate and White.
"You're staring at his eyepatch." White whispered to Nate.
"I am." Nate whispered back.
"Stop staring at his eyepatch." White whispered in a more urgent tone.
"He looks like Sean Connery if Sean Connery was a pirate." Nate whispered back, mirroring White's tone.
"Nate, stop looking at the eyepatch." White said, nudging him.
"I'm trying!" Nate said with a shove of his own.
The director reached the two men, nodding at White, who responded with a nod of his own. "It's good to see you again, Agent White. You seem to be adapting to your new role as a case officer pretty well, all things considered."
"Sir." White responded, curtly.
"And this," the director continued, extending a hand. "Must be the agent-in-training I've been hearing so much about."
Nate took the hand and shook it as firmly as he could. "Eye Nate Carter."
White bowed his head with a sigh as the director perked an eyebrow.
"I- I mean, -I'm- Nate Carter. Sir. Yes, sir." Nate blurted, coughing slightly.
"It's the eyepatch, isn't it?" The director said, smiling weakly.
"It's the eyepatch. I'm sorry." Nate answered, bowing his head in apology.
"Don't be, Mr. Carter." The director said with a slight chuckle as he made his way back to his seat. "You're not the guy who shot it out. Though, from what I've seen in your files, you could very easily put out my other one. You're quite the shot, son."
"Best there is, sir." Nate said.
"Modest, too." White said, rolling his eyes.
"Good thing modesty doesn't mean squat in our line of work, Agent White." The director said, smirking. "Confidence, on the other hand, is your most versatile weapon, Mr. Carter. And it's the only one that'll never fail you. Remember that."
"Yes, sir." Nate said, nodding vigorously. "But, uh, sir, I've gotta ask something; Why did you pull me out of training today?"
"Well, you already know the answer to that, Mr. Carter; You're done." The director rejoined. "Pack up your things, -Agent- Carter. You're getting shipped out."
"Wait, no, wait- Wait...What?" Nate cried, alarmed. "But, I-"
"Come on, Nate," White interrupted. "You know you're just going through the same old motions now. You know how to shoot a target from 1500 yards without missing a single bullseye. You know how to administer first aid to an injured soldier. You know how to airdrop, how to fly a plane, how to take an armed hostile down with a knife and some fancy footwork. You've been ready for a while now."
Nate looked from the reassuring smile on White's face to the stern but trusting look being given to him by the director. "This is really happening, isn't it?"
The director gave a brief nod as he pulled a dossier from his desk. "We're shipping you out to Afghanistan, Agent Carter. You'll be leading a small squad of marines into unknown territory where you'll be scouting, retrieving information and doing it without getting shot, hopefully. It'll be a challenge, yes, but it'll be a challenge I -know- you're ready for."
"You've spent two years preparing for this moment, Nate." White said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're ready."
"But Afghanistan? Leading my own squad?" Nate argued. "I don't know if I'm cut out for-"
The director stood again, walking over to Nate and handing him the dossier. "Agent Carter, you're only as good as you'll let yourself be. I'm of the mind that confidence wins battles, in case you didn't catch that. As such, I believe that the soldier who believes he's the best damn soldier alive could take on the world if it came to it."
"Sounds more like overconfidence to me, sir." Nate replied.
"Agent-" the director started.
"No," Nate said, suddenly. "It's okay. I dabble in overconfidence. So, do I get a cool codename, or what?"
Clearing his throat, White spoke up, "We thought that, given your past as an athlete of some renown-"
"-Some- renown?" Nate cut in, giving White a doubtful look.
"Some renown. We thought that a name which reflected both your athletic acumen and your exceptional marksmanship would be fun to come up with." White continued.
"All-Star?" Nate said, reading from the dossier. "I hate it. Haven't you got anything cooler? Like 'Reaper' or 'Demon' or 'Ninja'?"
"All taken." The director laughed.
"Don't worry, Nate." White said. "It'll grow on you. Besides, you'll have your own squad, a mission and a rank to make up for it. What more could you ask for?"
"Uh-huh." Nate said, looking up with a lopsided smile on his face. "It doesn't get any better than this."
