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Murphy was cleaning up after a successful mission- terrorists they’d been hunting for days- mostly making certain everyone was dead. Once the hostages were taken out, and it was all over but the evac? He started searching small cubbies and back of cabinets…
“Uh… Murphy? What are you looking for? The intel guys will look for any-”
“Not looking for intelligence,” Murphy snorted, “looking for booze.”
“But… they were Muslims- radical ‘no one else is Muslim enough for us’ you know?” the kid commented- he wasn't a kid but he was the youngest. “Didn’t they bomb that shopping center for having drinks?”
“Yup, and terrorized a Muslim resort community for indecency and drinking” Murphy agreed, prying up a floor board.
Quincy walked in and took off his facemask and goggles, “Murph? What are…” he turned to the kid, “what’s he doing?”
“He *says* he’s looking for booze.”
Quincy nodded, “Makes sense.”
“They are Muslim extremists!” the kid yelped. “They hate drinking!”
Murphy smirked as he put two bottles down on the counter. “Nope! They hate other people drinking: it's just like the hard core anti gay evangelicals are the ones who have Grinder profiles and a search history of gay porn on PornHub.”
The Kid was staring at the bottles, even as Murphy pulled out a half empty bottle and some glasses.
Quincy smacked the kid on the back, “Here’s to a successful mission!”
Murphy snickered, “yeah, we got to the booze before the intel guys.”
---
Some time later
---
The intel guys were very annoyed that the team had found the booze- and they confirmed for the kid that they almost always found booze- but once they found out Murphy had saved them a bottle they calmed down.
The team mostly hung around to watch the intel guys’ backs- their evac chopper having been diverted to a more critical call- so Murphy was sitting at the ‘bar’ and drinking steadily.
Now normally Murphy stayed about the same, or got more cheerful as he drank, but this time? He was huddled over his bottle, looking unhappy. Quincy sat down next to him, “whats up?”
“I sense a disturbance in the fucking force.” Murphy grumbled.
Quincy got an alarmed look, “Bombers?”
“Nah- nothing with us directly.”
“Oh… then… what?”
“Basher- its Basher; I’m sure of it.”
Quincy winced, “Lady luck keeps him around, and he hasn't gotten killed yet- wait, isn't he a civilian now?”
“He’s an independent agent now- works for the SIS for actual *cash*.”
“Okaaay? So what do you think is going on?”
The kid had come up and was listening, and in confusion asked: “you… think you know about some… retired guy who isn't here?! *THAT’S* what you’re upset about?”
Murphy sat up- still holding the bottle- “Sebastian Fucking Moran the Moron is doing something STUPID again, i can tell!”
The kid shot Quincy a worried look, as if he thought Murphy was cracking up.
Quincy shook his head, “He’s probably right: Seb’s like that.” he gestured with his glass of booze, “you see, Lady Luck keeps the guy on as her personal boy toy, so he never learned any better!”
“You’d think after the masseuse…”
“Oh yeah, that was bad…”
“Or that crazed bicycle guy?”
Quincy nodded. The Kid asked, “crazed Bicycle guy?”
Murphy just groaned, so Quincy answered: “training for the big bicycle races, found out Seb could cook a bit? And latched on to him to cook him food- apparently these guys eat like a whole unit! And then dumped him as soon as race season started.”
“This… Basher guy is gay?”
“Bi,” corrected Murphy. Then he frowned, “or pan?” he took a last swig and waved an empty bottle. “Anyway he’s up to his eyeballs in it this time: i can just tell.”
Murphy tilted his head, “chopper will be here by the time we get wrapped up. Come on.”
Indeed, by the time they got everything wrapped and put back on their gear the chopper was coming in.
The pilot grinned, “Murphy! did you save any of that for me?”
Murphy pulled out a hip flask, “Yup. Hey, when we get back to base, remind me to ask for some leave?”
“Bad mission?”
“Nah, one of my buddies back home is being stupid and i have to go smack him one.”
The kid couldn't help but wonder, the whole way back to base, what it meant that all these men just… *believed him*,
While Murphy was filling out the request for leave- for the whole team naturally- Quincy just patted him on the back, “If you knew Basher the way we do? You’d know its a pretty safe bet that he’s in trouble- its like betting on Kellogg injuring hisself in some improbable way- the difference is Seb trips into a pile of shit and comes up with diamonds.”
Murphy apparently heard the last part of that. “And its up to us to go dig him out of the shit and split the diamonds!” he nodded solemnly. “Now lets get going- i assume you wanted to come with us?”
The kid laughed, “Oh hell yes! If nothing else i gotta find out if you’re RIGHT!”