Various bits from parts of the verse
Here, have some excerpts from the rough drafts:
A bit of dialogue between Buck and Speirs
From the Files of Delta Eagle Consulting
“Respect the LEOs, Ron. There’s only so many times Winters will cover your ass,” Buck said, digging into his salad.
“Invalid argument, Compton. Sink loves me. And what’s Dick going to do? Speak with me in a harsh manner? Threaten me with a tongue lashing? Send me to the family farm to shuck corn and churn butter? Of the many people I fear in the DoD, Dick Winters is not one of them.”
“And yet, despite all that, you respect him.”
Ron leaned back in his chair. “I respect any person who leads in an effective manner without having to use threats or coercion. Dick is all about respect and performance. His not a man of threats, but promises, and he keeps them. I don’t like to disappoint Winters, no one does, but I don’t fear him. He’s not a man who leads with fear.”
“You do, though.”
“I can. I prefer intimidation, but when you have to train people like O’Keefe, it doesn’t take much. He always looks like a puppy who just missed the newspaper and ruined the carpet.”
Buck sighed. “Just, lay off of Dect. Cobb, okay? I only have so much pull with DC-Metro and we used most of that two years ago.”
“Ah, yes, the shootout at Smokey Joe’s.” That had been a fun night. Who knew Smokey Gordon kept his whole cache of guns in a walk-in cooler. They really did have to do that again sometime.
“They’re still digging bullets out of the alley walls,” Buck said. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
“Overjoyed. Ever since the shootout there’ve been no robberies, fights, or sexual assaults in the back alley. If you think about it, I was doing DC-Metro a favor.”
“Alas, Dear Ronald, they do not view it as such.”
“You’re starting to bore me, Buck.”
“Why do I stay friends with you when you are such an asshole?”
“Because I get you great deals on quality clothes and leather and always acquire the tickets you want to any and every sporting event. Including the Summer Olympics.”
“How did you pull that one off?”
“Kitty made Harry sell his body to the highest bidder.”
“Really?”
“No. Think, Buck, if I did that Kitty would cut my balls off with a razor. Chuck wooed one of the IOC’s chairman’s sons. They still talk sometimes.”
“Chuck’s never seemed the type to use his body in trade.”
“All spies do it eventually. Chuck is one of the few lucky enough to know a professional escort who runs his own business.”
“How is Floyd?”
“Looking at franchise expansion.”
*********************
In the Delta Eagle Consulting part of the 'verse it's sort of a common thing for Chuck to complain about his current office life or to get all gleeful about his shiny rolodex. Below is a selection of text all from the world of Chuck Grant, Office Rat:
The Life of a Freelance Spy, Pt. 1
“Chuckles, don’t make me break your pencils again.”
“If you’d give me something to do, I wouldn’t have to throw them into the ceiling tiles, Ron.”
“I gave you something to do.”
Chuck laughed. “I meant something that actually challenges my mental abilities and my long-honed skills.” He threw a packet wrapped in green cellophane down on Ron’s desk. “Everything you need to know about one Eugene B. Sledge.” He sat down at his own desk, shifting his red stapler back and forth. “Is there a reason for your sudden obsession with members of the United States Marine Corps?”
“I’m eager to have my own pretty little recruiting poster model to feed me bon-bons and slay dragons.”
“Does Carwood know that?”
“Do you like being employed?”
“Duly noted, sir.”
*****
Part Two
Chuck Grant hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays came after Monday, which he normally spent with a hangover, but before Wednesday, when he got paid. Thursdays meant chocolate chip muffins, because Kitty always baked on Wednesday nights. Fridays were steak dinner nights. Saturdays the one night he had off without fail barring an international incident and Sundays always brought phone calls from home. Tuesdays, however, could get fucked. Tuesdays meant unpacking supply orders, dealing with the inevitable clusterfucks of Monday evening, and the weekly visit of Agatha Speirs. Great Aunt Agatha was the bane of Chuck’ existence. Unlike Ron’s Aunt Barbara, who was a sweetheart and always brought baked goods, Agatha flew in with attitude, a purse full of rocks and a far too accurate cane. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out if she was one of the original CIA assassins.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Kitty asked, emerging from her office. She’d been up all night, eyeliner trailing down her cheeks, but she had one of the digital tablets in her hand and a look of triumph, so she must have succeeded in locating that English assassin who tried to take out Janovec last week.
“Ms. Gorgan-Welsh, please tell me what day of the week it is.”
Kitty’s eyes went wide and she quickly took a survey of the room. “The Wicked Witch of the West isn’t here yet is she?”
“I believe we have another two hours before she descends upon us.”
Kitty dropped the tablet on Chuck’s desk and ran back to her office.
“Oh, that’s just not right,” he said, watching her return with her bag and jacket.
“Chuckles, look, I love you, you know I do. But it’s Agatha. I’ve not had enough sleep to deal with Agatha, Harry is flying in tonight, and I really don’t want to spend tonight in lock up for committing justifiable homicide with a paper clip. Buck’s on vacation with that prosecutor he picked up so you know he’d leave me to stew just out of spite.”
“Traitor,” Chuck yelled after her, watching her mad dash to the elevator.
“Sorry, Charlie!” Kitty sung out.
*******
Part Three
Delta Eagle Consulting was a legitimate business. Between his life experiences and that of Chuck and Kitty, the company could honestly handle every plausible scenario in life, minus a nuclear holocaust. Their security clearance made them popular among the various military bases throughout the Carolinas. They’d been contacted for organizing everything from Black Ops training exercise to a baby shower for General Matthis’ daughter. The company was valued for its ability to handle any proposal and situation in a timely and discrete manner. Ron vetoed all explosions unless they were absolutely necessary, something that always put Chuck in a bad mood until something else appeased his pyromaniac tendencies.
Still, like any business, there were slow days. On slow days the office held what Ron termed training exercises and Kitty called “something out of Hell’s traveling carnival.”
“O’Keefe, if you can’t dodge a slow moving dart, how the hell do you plan on dodging a knife?”
“You said we were playing a game of darts.”
“We are,” Janovec said, twirling a dart in his hand.
“Then why do I have to wear the target?” O’Keefe asked.
“It’s part of your training,” Chuck said.
****
Part Four
“Why does Kitty get the bigger office?”
“Because she doesn’t spend half her work day bidding on Star Wars memorabilia on E-bay.”
“Get it right, Ron. It’s Star Trek.”
Ron pinched his brow. “Chuck, she’s the tech expert, she needs to bigger officer with the better air conditioner. You are logistics, you need a bright, open office to lie and entice people into a false sense of security. Unless you want a cubicle like Janovec.”
“You know, I’m actually very good with my desk where it is. Lots of windows.”
****
Part Five
“We’re not posing as arms dealers again, are we, Ron, Sir, Mr. Speirs, Ma’am.”
“Janovec, you have been with this outfit for two years. You should not still be nervous over addressing the evil overlord,” Chuck said.
“But he kills people.”
“Janovec, you kill people.”
“Only really bad people.”
“Yeah, well, so does he,” Chuck said. He sighed and dropped the phone back in its cradle. “Ron, will you please comfort the kid so he doesn’t piss himself next to my fern.”
“You’re far too protective of that fern, Chuck,” Ron said.
“Tab’s grandmother gave me that fern. It’s more valuable than Janovec’s pride.”
“Fine,” Ron muttered. “Pack your shit, Janovec, you’re going with me to D.C. And no, we won’t be posing as arms dealers.”
“Why not?”
“Because in this case, you are.”
“But..."
“It’s a DoD-headed taskforce, John, they get to move in ways and levels you can’t even imagine.”
A bit of dialogue between Buck and Speirs
From the Files of Delta Eagle Consulting
“Respect the LEOs, Ron. There’s only so many times Winters will cover your ass,” Buck said, digging into his salad.
“Invalid argument, Compton. Sink loves me. And what’s Dick going to do? Speak with me in a harsh manner? Threaten me with a tongue lashing? Send me to the family farm to shuck corn and churn butter? Of the many people I fear in the DoD, Dick Winters is not one of them.”
“And yet, despite all that, you respect him.”
Ron leaned back in his chair. “I respect any person who leads in an effective manner without having to use threats or coercion. Dick is all about respect and performance. His not a man of threats, but promises, and he keeps them. I don’t like to disappoint Winters, no one does, but I don’t fear him. He’s not a man who leads with fear.”
“You do, though.”
“I can. I prefer intimidation, but when you have to train people like O’Keefe, it doesn’t take much. He always looks like a puppy who just missed the newspaper and ruined the carpet.”
Buck sighed. “Just, lay off of Dect. Cobb, okay? I only have so much pull with DC-Metro and we used most of that two years ago.”
“Ah, yes, the shootout at Smokey Joe’s.” That had been a fun night. Who knew Smokey Gordon kept his whole cache of guns in a walk-in cooler. They really did have to do that again sometime.
“They’re still digging bullets out of the alley walls,” Buck said. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
“Overjoyed. Ever since the shootout there’ve been no robberies, fights, or sexual assaults in the back alley. If you think about it, I was doing DC-Metro a favor.”
“Alas, Dear Ronald, they do not view it as such.”
“You’re starting to bore me, Buck.”
“Why do I stay friends with you when you are such an asshole?”
“Because I get you great deals on quality clothes and leather and always acquire the tickets you want to any and every sporting event. Including the Summer Olympics.”
“How did you pull that one off?”
“Kitty made Harry sell his body to the highest bidder.”
“Really?”
“No. Think, Buck, if I did that Kitty would cut my balls off with a razor. Chuck wooed one of the IOC’s chairman’s sons. They still talk sometimes.”
“Chuck’s never seemed the type to use his body in trade.”
“All spies do it eventually. Chuck is one of the few lucky enough to know a professional escort who runs his own business.”
“How is Floyd?”
“Looking at franchise expansion.”
*********************
In the Delta Eagle Consulting part of the 'verse it's sort of a common thing for Chuck to complain about his current office life or to get all gleeful about his shiny rolodex. Below is a selection of text all from the world of Chuck Grant, Office Rat:
The Life of a Freelance Spy, Pt. 1
“Chuckles, don’t make me break your pencils again.”
“If you’d give me something to do, I wouldn’t have to throw them into the ceiling tiles, Ron.”
“I gave you something to do.”
Chuck laughed. “I meant something that actually challenges my mental abilities and my long-honed skills.” He threw a packet wrapped in green cellophane down on Ron’s desk. “Everything you need to know about one Eugene B. Sledge.” He sat down at his own desk, shifting his red stapler back and forth. “Is there a reason for your sudden obsession with members of the United States Marine Corps?”
“I’m eager to have my own pretty little recruiting poster model to feed me bon-bons and slay dragons.”
“Does Carwood know that?”
“Do you like being employed?”
“Duly noted, sir.”
*****
Part Two
Chuck Grant hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays came after Monday, which he normally spent with a hangover, but before Wednesday, when he got paid. Thursdays meant chocolate chip muffins, because Kitty always baked on Wednesday nights. Fridays were steak dinner nights. Saturdays the one night he had off without fail barring an international incident and Sundays always brought phone calls from home. Tuesdays, however, could get fucked. Tuesdays meant unpacking supply orders, dealing with the inevitable clusterfucks of Monday evening, and the weekly visit of Agatha Speirs. Great Aunt Agatha was the bane of Chuck’ existence. Unlike Ron’s Aunt Barbara, who was a sweetheart and always brought baked goods, Agatha flew in with attitude, a purse full of rocks and a far too accurate cane. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out if she was one of the original CIA assassins.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Kitty asked, emerging from her office. She’d been up all night, eyeliner trailing down her cheeks, but she had one of the digital tablets in her hand and a look of triumph, so she must have succeeded in locating that English assassin who tried to take out Janovec last week.
“Ms. Gorgan-Welsh, please tell me what day of the week it is.”
Kitty’s eyes went wide and she quickly took a survey of the room. “The Wicked Witch of the West isn’t here yet is she?”
“I believe we have another two hours before she descends upon us.”
Kitty dropped the tablet on Chuck’s desk and ran back to her office.
“Oh, that’s just not right,” he said, watching her return with her bag and jacket.
“Chuckles, look, I love you, you know I do. But it’s Agatha. I’ve not had enough sleep to deal with Agatha, Harry is flying in tonight, and I really don’t want to spend tonight in lock up for committing justifiable homicide with a paper clip. Buck’s on vacation with that prosecutor he picked up so you know he’d leave me to stew just out of spite.”
“Traitor,” Chuck yelled after her, watching her mad dash to the elevator.
“Sorry, Charlie!” Kitty sung out.
*******
Part Three
Delta Eagle Consulting was a legitimate business. Between his life experiences and that of Chuck and Kitty, the company could honestly handle every plausible scenario in life, minus a nuclear holocaust. Their security clearance made them popular among the various military bases throughout the Carolinas. They’d been contacted for organizing everything from Black Ops training exercise to a baby shower for General Matthis’ daughter. The company was valued for its ability to handle any proposal and situation in a timely and discrete manner. Ron vetoed all explosions unless they were absolutely necessary, something that always put Chuck in a bad mood until something else appeased his pyromaniac tendencies.
Still, like any business, there were slow days. On slow days the office held what Ron termed training exercises and Kitty called “something out of Hell’s traveling carnival.”
“O’Keefe, if you can’t dodge a slow moving dart, how the hell do you plan on dodging a knife?”
“You said we were playing a game of darts.”
“We are,” Janovec said, twirling a dart in his hand.
“Then why do I have to wear the target?” O’Keefe asked.
“It’s part of your training,” Chuck said.
****
Part Four
“Why does Kitty get the bigger office?”
“Because she doesn’t spend half her work day bidding on Star Wars memorabilia on E-bay.”
“Get it right, Ron. It’s Star Trek.”
Ron pinched his brow. “Chuck, she’s the tech expert, she needs to bigger officer with the better air conditioner. You are logistics, you need a bright, open office to lie and entice people into a false sense of security. Unless you want a cubicle like Janovec.”
“You know, I’m actually very good with my desk where it is. Lots of windows.”
****
Part Five
“We’re not posing as arms dealers again, are we, Ron, Sir, Mr. Speirs, Ma’am.”
“Janovec, you have been with this outfit for two years. You should not still be nervous over addressing the evil overlord,” Chuck said.
“But he kills people.”
“Janovec, you kill people.”
“Only really bad people.”
“Yeah, well, so does he,” Chuck said. He sighed and dropped the phone back in its cradle. “Ron, will you please comfort the kid so he doesn’t piss himself next to my fern.”
“You’re far too protective of that fern, Chuck,” Ron said.
“Tab’s grandmother gave me that fern. It’s more valuable than Janovec’s pride.”
“Fine,” Ron muttered. “Pack your shit, Janovec, you’re going with me to D.C. And no, we won’t be posing as arms dealers.”
“Why not?”
“Because in this case, you are.”
“But..."
“It’s a DoD-headed taskforce, John, they get to move in ways and levels you can’t even imagine.”