The Trash Dragon

26 FEBRUARY - THE WILLIAMETTE COMPANY

 "What the shit was that?" the director shouted.

"There were a few mishaps going in, sir."

"That was significantly more than mishaps, it was a goddamn shitshow gangbang-bred with five newly-discovered shades of cluster and fuck."

"Director, with all due respect. My team was working off of incomplete intel."

"Working with bad info, eh? Some bum data, was that the only issue? In that case, I'm compelled to ask what the fuck those two glazzy green eye-spheres at the front your skull were telling you at the time. Or that obviously nonperforming clump of grey-matter behind them? What did they convey to you along your obviously defective nervous system before you gave the greenlight to inroad that non-connaissanced hotel like a coke-stilted wannabe cowboy?"

"Sir, I surveyed the situation and acted accordingly."

"Accordingly?" The director clicked his tongue disappointedly before resuming. "Fucking up is always poor form, captain, but standing steadfast that this kind of misstep isn't your fault is a far worse flaw. Let's demystify this badly-plotted series of events for a moment.

You planned logistics very poorly for your endeavor, stormed into a full and crowded flop-house, endangered your people with your poor planning,  brought on uneccesarry attention from a cadre of lookers-on, before which  you gathered no intel on the target after you engaged.

And come to place a bright red cherry on this failure parade that you've conjured for me is you blaming your intel for things going south."

"There were some miscommunications, sir."

"A stander-by was shot in the foot by one of your men."

"Sir, the building-"

"And you used a smoke grenade against something that doesn't have eyes. And that was not one of your men. It was you, personally"

The captain took silence. He felt his shame pressing on his shoulders, but he kept his eyes on the director and took his punishment.

"Spare me any half-truths and trash excuses that you may have already prepped. You got a civilian shot and you let our target slip by and get off to where it will certainly cause more problems. The only good intel we collected was from Tousse, who was the only person who thought to turn on their head-cam since, in addition your series of massive cock-ups, you also forgot to remind any of your team about them. Leaving us with next to no concrete anything at all on what the fuck we are dealing with."

Finally the director took a breath, but Duff's reprise was short.

"And so by dint of this major-league blundering, the head office now believes that I cannot handle my own shit. So Yola and Kass are being called in. A circumstance, the fault of which I place squarely on your broad shoulders."

The director gave a momentary pause. His ire was almost palpable in the silence.

"Given the circumstances as they are, you are relieved of your duty as acting captain, effective now-goddamn-mediately."

The captain failed to suppress a groan.

"Sir, with all due-"

"Son, with all due the fokken platitudes you seem to be dishing up today, you done fucked up and you did it pretty terribly."

"Sir-"

"Another sentence, Duff, and you're taking the long hiatus. Here is the forecast in bright red peppermint letters: you are stepping down as captain. Negative negotiability. Full stop."

The no-longer captain stared hard at the director, choking weakly on his dismay.

"Am I understood, Duff? Am I clear as the bonny azure sky? Am I crystal clear capisce?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good, grand, glory to el niño. And for the rest of our time here, you are on support staff. And if you choose to even give an under-the-breath whisper regarding tactics, you will no longer be taking a temporary leave, but you will work as support staff up at head office."

The notion churned Duff's stomach to a nervous soup. His face lost its color.

"Glad to see that we're on the same page. Now leave, and tell Tousse to come see me."