SG Vol. 1 pt. 4

“Seriously?” I ask.

“Seriously,” Zane answers.

“Why me? There’re already teachers over there to teach all those brats.”

“Because you’re one of the best we have and, ever since you lost your eye, you’ve been taking more hits. We can’t risk losing you. As detrimental to the coming battles it may be to not have you participating, we’re hoping that you’ll be able to train the next generation of pilots to be just as good as you.”

“We’re hoping? You mean you’re part of this?”

“I’m the one who recommended it, Lance. We needed you for this last op. Now you’re being transferred.”

It’s taking every last ounce of my willpower to not slam my fists onto his desk right now. “You know I’m not cut out for teaching brats. I’m cut out for killing demons, and once the demons are dead, we have a country to retake.”

“One step at a time, Lance. You can’t keep piloting like this. Listen,” Zane pauses to lean over this desk, softening his voice to try and relax me. I know how this works and it pisses me off that it fucking works. “I know that you belong on the front lines. That’s where you do your best work. There are only a handful of pilots in the world who have as many hours as you do in VSUs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re competing for the top kill count. That is why it is so important that we don’t lose you, and why it’s crucial that you teach the next generation. We’ve had officers try and emulate the training you went through, but it hasn’t produced the same results. Nobody even comes close to the records you set in training.”

Kiss my ass some more, bastard. Fuck. I hate that he knows how to make good points.

“Besides, it means you’ll get to spend more time with your daughter,” Zane says.

“Really? You’re trying to use my own fucking daughter against me?” I ask. Now I just want to punch him instead of his desk.

“I’ll use whatever it takes if it means getting you to cooperate. I know more than anybody else just how challenging that is.”

“You’re a real bastard. You know that, right?”

“I’ll be whatever I have to be to get you to listen.”

“Tch. You’re more annoying than the brats I’m going to be stuck with.”

“Great! You agree to teach, then? I knew you’d come around to the idea.”

“Oi, I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“But you just said you’d be stuck with some brats, and I know that you would never refer to your own daughter that way! Just what else could you have meant, Lance?” Zane asks me with that annoying, smug smile.

Fucker got me. “You know how badly I want to punch you right now?”

“I appreciate you resisting that temptation.”

I lean back in the chair to stare up at the ceiling, sighing.  “Yeah, having more time with my daughter sounds nice… but that also means having more time with her mother.”

“That, my pirate friend, is what alcohol is for.”

“Call me a pirate one more time and I’m going to stop resisting that temptation.”

Zane laughs as I let out another sigh. “I take it that couples counseling is out of the question?”

“It was out the question after she fucked the damn therapist.”

“Ah, right. I remember bailing you out after that. How many stitches did he need again?”

“Shit, uh… I think it was forty-something.”

“We’re all hoping that you instill that fighting spirit of yours into your students.”

“You want even more people your ass has to bail out whenever they get in trouble?” I ask, finally leaning forward again.

“Preferably, you would only teach them to brutalize the enemy rather than anybody who looks at you wrong.”

“He did more than look at me wrong.”

“I know, but—” Zane is cut off when the phone on his desk rings. “I need to take this.”

I don’t budge.

“Lance,” Zane says.

I sigh, get up, and walk out of the room. “You owe me a drink,” I tell him before shutting his door.

Damn it. A fucking teacher. How could somebody like me teach a bunch of brats? The fuck do I know about teaching? I know how to kill demons. That’s it. Do they just expect me to shout at brats all day or some shit like that?

So help me if I get actual brats. I won’t be able to hold myself back.

Does brass even realize how fucked they are if they get a bunch of jackasses like me piloting their VSUs? Shit, maybe if I make them regret their decision to turn me into a teacher, they’ll put me back in the cockpit where I belong.

Time to find an open bunk to crash on. Nothing to do except for working out, sleeping, eating, and shitting until I’m back on land. Oh, and avoiding anybody who wants to start up annoying conversations.

Let’s just fucking avoid everybody, actually.

…

It takes just under a week for us to get back to Pearl Harbor. They’re kind enough to let us “guests” off first, and it takes a couple of steps for me to remember what it feels like to walk on land instead of a ship. My body is trying to overcompensate for the now-lack-of wobbling. I guess this is why they let us guests off first. They don’t want us seeing how stupid all the real sailors look when they actually step off.

Wait… they better not fucking make me teach Navy pilots. I know they’re pushing for more carrier-based pilots now, but I don’t know shit about their machines.

Looking around, most people are heading for the trams to get wherever they want to go.

I’ve got twenty-four hours of freedom before class apparently starts. They’re really not wasting any time tossing me into Hell.

I’m torn between walking home and getting drunk on the way to procrastinate before seeing that whore waiting for me, or just taking the damn tram to a bus stop to go and see my daughter as soon as possible.

Fuck it. Lance, your daughter is more important than that woman who is her mother. Do it for her.

…

About two hours later and I find myself standing in front of the sidewalk leading up to my slice of whatever is left of the American Dream.

If I’m not facing demons in a VSU, I’m facing one in my own home.

I look to my left down at the sewer drain that I “accidentally” dropped my wedding ring down.

I hope it got stuck in a pile of shit and eaten by some roaches. Fuck, I know that it doesn’t work that way, but I’m still going to hope for it.

With a heavy sigh, I walk up to the door, take the key out from underneath the mat, and… where the fuck is the key? Seriously? She moved it again? Guess I’m knocking on the door and having an obvious entrance.

Knock, knock. Come and make my life miserable like you’re just so perfect at.

The door unlocks and swings open.

Here she is. All dressed up in my favorite outfit of hers – a violet nightgown to show off her tits and match her eyes, nice makeup making that stupidly-fucking-attractive face look even better than it has any right to look, and she even went back to short hair. Short, orange hair frames her freckled face.

“I heard you were coming back today!” Kate says, putting a bit of hop in her step to make her cleavage bounce for me. The damn bitch knows what she’s doing and she knows that it works. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” she asks, her voice as sweet as she looks right now.

“Only my pride,” I answer with a groan as she grabs onto my arm, pulling me inside. “How’s mom? Naomi?”

“They’re fine, they’re fine! Don’t worry so much,” Kate says as she closes the door behind me before pushing me back against the wall, pressing her chest up against mine and looking up at me with those puppy eyes that she’s mastered.

“I’m tired,” I tell her, trying not to give in to her obvious trap.

“Then I’ll do all the work!” she says with a bright smile before leaning up on the tips of her toes to place gentle kisses against my neck.

I feel one of her hands sliding down my abdomen as the other slides up it underneath my shirt.

“I’m serious,” I tell her in a low, demanding voice.

Kate stops what she’s doing, steps back, and glares at me.

Here’s the Kate that I fucking hate. She’s just creepy when she tries to act normal.

“Every time. No matter what I fucking do, every single fucking time you come home you pull this shit! What, you find some little slut pilot to fuck instead of your wife?” Kate asks.

Yeah, this is what I’m used to. I’m way more comfortable being shouted at than being seduced. “I fucking wish. Unfortunately, I was too busy trying to stay alive and killing demons to think about replacing you. Trust me, now that I’ve got some time off, it’s my first priority.”

“Tough fucking talk! I doubt you’re doing much killing when you only have one fucking eye! Ooohh, look at me, I’m a fucking pirate-ass pilot killing 'demons' with my little eyepatch! And good fucking luck finding somebody else as good as me. Who else is going to take care of your piece-of-shit mother while you’re off doing who fucking knows what because we all fucking know you lose every battle!”

“Say something else about her and I’ll send you to the hospital with an even fucking worse looking face than you already have,” I tell her, walking closer to her and forcing her to walk backward if she doesn’t want to get pushed over.

“Mister fucking tough guy is back! Do it! We both know you’re too much of a pussy to hurt me. I can say whatever the fuck I want and you’ll never hurt me.”

I push her against the wall, my hands on her shoulders and leaning over so that my eyes are directly in front of hers. Our frustrated breaths brush against each other.

We glare into each other’s eyes for only a few seconds before wrapping our arms around each other, pushing our lips together as I lift her up and carry her into the bedroom. “Are they home?” I ask.

“The fuck do you think?” she asks me.

We strip each other.

…

An hour later and we’re finally done hate-fucking each other. She puts her clothes back on, combs her hair, and then says, “I’m going out. There’s shit in the freezer if you’re hungry.”

I don’t say anything back which just makes her scoff at me before leaving.

Looking over at the clock, it should almost be time for Naomi to get home from school, and then I guess I’ll have to go out and pick up mom.