Interlude: Squabble

Pidgeon and Hawk squabbling over what to do....

“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Actual this is Command. Do you copy? Over.”

The Union specialist at the comms station turned and looked up to his superior for his next order.

His superior, who was ever the stoic, stood firm. Arms crossed, face emotionless, yet the specialist could sense that his superior was worried.

He couldn’t blame him.

It had been nearly 12 hours since Angel and Lazurus interrupted Cowboy’s press conference. It had been nearly 12 hours since Lazurus and Angel died. It had been nearly 12 hours since Cowboy fell from the sky. A ground team, with the assistance of Bump, had managed to keep Cowboy from splattering all over the city’s pavement. It had been nearly 12 hours since the beasts of hell unleashed themselves upon the streets of Steelport. 

Shortly after Lazurus was confirmed to be dead, his horde of undead monstrosities began to lay siege to the city. Additional ground forces were sent in to suppress the horde, and retrieve Cowboy. Unfortunately, they were unable to retrieve Cowboy. Lazurus’ horde made short work of those that were sent in. Whether or not Cowboy and the men who were sent in are dead, is unknown but; for their sake, the specialist prayed they were.

“Pidgeon, try again.”

AGAIN!? 

As much as Pigeon didn’t want to believe it, Cowboy, and the others, were most likely gone, “Sir, I don’t mean to come off as being insubordinate but, don’t you think we have tried enough? It has been six hours since we had last communication with the teams sent in. I can’t even see anyone’s signal on any of our radars.”

Pigeon was expecting his superior to reply in his normal stern manner. His superior had been a career soldier before enlisting with The Union. Pigeon knew how these types of men thought, always loyal to their brothers. Always following their orders, or so he thought.

“I know things look grim, and you are probably right. We have tried enough. The casualty statistics have yet to be confirmed, but our intelligence team speculates that civilian and officer numbers are high.” Pigeon’s superior turned to leave, “I’ll be damned if we don’t try everything we can to save them. I know this isn’t the military, but that doesn’t change the fact that our brothers need us, dead or alive.”

His words ruffled Pigeon’s feathers. Pigeon knew that he would be cast into dangerous situations when he enlisted with The Union. Now that he was in the fire, the realization that the next course of action he took could dictate whether or not those that served alongside him lived or died began to settle in. 

Before his superior left the comms room, the loudspeaker crackled to life, “Hawk, report to the war room for briefing immediately! This is a direct order!”

Pigeon and his superior exchanged their looks of unease.

They knew all too well that when the director spoke in that manner, nothing good could come of it.

“F**k her.” Pigeon’s superior spoke the words that so many thought but dare not speak, “I’m going to go get Cowboy myself.” 

Pigeon could not believe what he had just heard. The man who spoke was not the same man as his superior.

“Sir, the Warden just gave you a direct order to report for a briefing! You of all people know what will happen if you disobey.” Pigeon’s legs forced him out of his chair. As a precautionary, he positioned his hand above his pistol’s holster, just in case he was forced to use it.

Hawk’s head rotated from the exit to Pigeon’s hand, “You better be able to take the shot boy. If not, I highly recommend that you move your hand elsewhere.”

“I’m only going to use it if you force me to, sir.” Pigeon’s hand rested firm upon his pistol, waiting for the order to shoot.

Hawk couldn’t contain himself, and began laughing hysterically, “You remind me a lot of myself when I was young. I was passionate and had faith in the chain of command, but there’s something you have yet to learn, boy. The chain of command is made up of people. People are fickle. People are ignorant. People f**k up. So, sometimes you have to be willing to make your own decision, regardless of what others order you to do. You may be wrong, or you may be right; but regardless, you live with the consequences of your actions and take it like a man. Because the regret of not acting when you could have done something is the worst feeling we can experience.”

Hawk returned his focus to the door, “At the end of the day, whether or not you decide to follow orders, is your own decision. Now, are you going to let me walk, or are you going to try and stop me? It is up to you to decide.” 

Pigeon removed his hand from his firearm, and sat down, returning to his post. “I don’t agree with you, but you are my superior officer. So, if you are ordering me to stand down, and try to establish contact with the dead, then so be it.”

“Thank you. Don’t worry kid-”

Pigeon’s fist forcing itself through one of the screens in front of him stopped Hawk mid sentence, “Don’t call me kid.” 

With nothing but his words lingering in the air, Hawk left to go save Cowboy.