Tough Calls.

[Rodent]

Fort Bragg, Manhattan. 2000 Hours

---

Reginald Lewis couldn't help but feel nervous as he walked through the chrome and steel doors of Fort Bragg. He absentmindedly went through the motions that involved getting into the Naval Headquarters, proving that he had both the clearance to go past and the authority to act annoyed about it. This would take nearly half an hour and leave all parties involved feeling vaguely frustrated.

This rigmarole doubled for where he was going. After the fifth round of being stopped and asked for his ID, he snapped. "I was called here to meet Captain Mulholland. Maybe you could just call his office and save me the trouble?"

To their credit, the officers going through his papers did not flinch or cower. Likely they were far too used to seeing intimidating men and women to really care anymore. Lewis sighed and leaned against a wall, wishing for this ordeal to be over. He wanted the wait even less than the actual meeting.

"Right sir, you're clear. Captain'll be waiting for you on the third floor, take a right from the elevator." Lewis did not bother to reply, collecting his documents and walking past with a short nod.

Looking around after taking the elevator, Lewis noted subtle changes. This part of the massive complex was quite...empty, for one thing. There were a few uniformed people lounging around a coffee maker, aides from the look of it. Apart from that, the large waiting area and and hallway seemed practically deserted. Apart from that, it resembled any of the dozens of waiting areas that littered Fort Bragg. It was like a city. A distinctly well ordered city, maintained and operated by those who considered themselves part of the military despite being not, but nonetheless lent a militant attitude and discipline to their work.

Lewis filed that all away after a moment of observation and made his way through the expanse. He knocked once, and a distinctly airy voice sharply answered. "Come in!"

Lewis walked in, and nearly ran into the Captain. Recovering quickly, he backed off and attempted to salute, but was cut short by the Captain giving him a one armed hug. Only for a moment, before he backed off and grinned at him.

"Lewis, where the hell have you been?" He remarked cheerily and walked back to his chair, gesturing for Lewis to take one.

Lewis controlled his surprise quickly and took a seat, taking a cursory glance around the office. A quiet and unassuming office for those who didn't know what they were looking at. Lewis did, and nearly whistled in surprise. On a shelf behind the Captain, his medals were displayed.

Three purple hearts.

The seemingly amiable Captain had served and taken near-fatal wounds thrice. Now that Lewis looked at him, he could see it. The close cropped blond hair was military standard, but there a faint scar visible on his right temple. While heftily built, Mulholland didn't look like the sort of person that'd served where he had. The only feature that betrayed him were his sunken eyes and rough, sun burnt face. Officers didn't get that by sitting in a cubicle all day.

"So, Commander...refreshments or straight to business?" Mulholland asked.

"Straight to business if you don't mind, Sir", Lewis replied. The Captain nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer and pushed a datapad across the desk. Lewis read through it...and his eyes went wide. In the midst of all the bureaucratic double talk, this was a transfer request to Navy Special Ops. Lewis had already been assigned to that a long time ago...but he'd always been on the fringes, never inside. This was an invitation to the very best, Space Air Land operations. SEAL for short.

Lewis had to admit he was flattered.

"I'm guessing you like what you see, Lewis." Mulholland said.

"Just surprised to see it, Sir", Lewis said carefully. In truth, he didn't want this. He certainly had not expected this.

"That's the paperwork you're looking at. I haven't sent it yet..." Mulholland stared at Lewis, all amiability now gone. "I prefer to talk to people I plan to work with directly...we need to have an understanding."

He got up, glanced at his medals and then back at Lewis.

"Much more than any other outfit in the Navy. I need people to be completely on-board, for we demand more. Much more."

Lewis nodded passively. He'd heard this sort of thing before. "If command thin-"

"Not good enough, "Mulholland cut in. "You see, Lewis...I curate this outfit. We're volunteer and we need everyone to be completely on board. You're an old hand so I won't bore you with the reasons why."

Lewis swallowed down his anger and tried to compose himself. "It'd help if I knew your agenda, sir."

Mulholland nodded and took his seat once more, the sharp anger in him seemingly spent. "We need to expand operations, Lewis. With a massive two-front war imminent, SEAL will have an important role to play. You understand this?"

"Of course."

"There's very little time to subject new recruits through the SEAL recruitment process,although we have that on go. So we have to improvise. There are people in the Navy..." He gestured at Lewis. "Who have plenty of combat experience and could be...acceptable for recruitment."

Lewis bristled at that. "I don't think SEAL settles for acceptable, Sir."

"Oh, you know what I mean. What we're looking for is to commission new teams out of enlisted veterans...and you were one of these."

Lewis nodded. "So where did you intend to place me?"

"We're divided into teams. The plan was for you to lead one of the new ones we're forming."

Lewis raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I have experience leading the troops, Sir...but I'm not sure if I'm the right choice for wetwork."

Mulholland snorted derisively. "Bullshit. I've read your files. You've taken command of many fucked up situations, often without realizing it. I think you're the right man for the job....if you'll take it."

Lewis started to say something, but was gestured down. "Of course, if I put in a transfer request...your wishes don't really factor in. But I prefer to have my men on board willingly. You'll have considerable operational leeway, and I'll take your input on board while we're drafting your team."

Lewis started at that, suddenly very attentive. "So I have a say in who I'm commanding?"

"To a certain extent, Commander. If they're men and women who are both hardened veterans and ones you trust implicitly, we can have a talk with them."

Lewis rubbed his chin in thought. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Mulholland nodded faintly.

"I'll come clean with you, there's plenty of times when I thought I should just leave. That I've done enough and other people can carry it on." He leaned forward. "But somehow I keep returning. First it was Rheinland and now it's Gallia. I cannot bear to a bystander in what might be one of the bloodiest conflicts of our time."

He sighed. "It'd invalidate everything I've done."

In a second, Mulholland was by his side, a hand on his shoulder. "There are no bystanders in war, Lewis..." And as quickly, he sat back in his chair. "I appreciate you coming clean with me."

Lewis nodded. "So about the team..."

"You have suggestions, yeah?"

Lewis smiled faintly. "It'll be a long list, sir."

Mulholland waved dismissively. "I'll give you the time you need."

0400 Hours.

---

As Lewis finally walked past the final set of guarded doors, he felt tired, but also oddly triumphant. The conflicts that ravaged Humanity during his time were not of his design, but now at least he had some small control over a portion of it. It was intimidating, but it had to be done. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that this was infact his final war. A final set of Tough Calls for him.