RANGEMAN UNDER FIRE

WRITTEN BY: Manchester's Stubborn Pansy now the new stubbornpansy

PROLOGUE

Tank was watching the flight arrivals on the overhead screen. The flight from Boston had landed on time. He headed to the entrance, standing in the shadows and waited.

He spotted him immediately, not hard since he was wearing RangeMan black. But it was the attitude he wore that drew Tank's attention first. Archer was right. Surly, belligerent, angry and that snarky look of a man with a chip on his shoulder. He definitely needs a personality overhaul.

With his unruly mop of brown hair and cold grey eyes, he surveyed the parking lot. He was about five nine, of lean yet muscular build. He carried his duffel bag on his left shoulder but he was right handed. He pulled a Metallica cap over his head and put on his sunglasses. He still hadn't spotted Tank.

Boston Guy POV

I can't believe I'm standing here at Trenton-Mercer Airport, waiting for my ride.

What was wrong with Boston? I was already settled in and had made contacts outside of RangeMan. I had my own network and it worked for me. I had my ways of getting information and my sources were mine alone. I don't like to share. I work hard, and I get the credit for it.

Archer seemed to have a beef with me from the outset, calling me to the mats on a regular basis, especially after that incident with one of my informants who mysteriously disappeared. Then the next one, with another informant. There was an investigation since I was injured. The questioning was more about RangeMan's involvement with said informant. The inquiry was long and tedious and inconclusive. I was saying nothing. Need to know basis, he didn't need to know.

I was given a severe reprimand and then suddenly Maddox was my new partner for a while. Maddox was Archer's 2IC. They make a fine pair. They never say much. Give orders like we're still in the barracks. Rules were tight and expectations were high. I get it. Reputation. Yada yada yada.

For two months I was put on monitors. Eight long ass weeks on monitors. Damn! I was going batshit crazy with that. Since my shoulder injury and the mysterious disappearance of my informant, Maddox was assigned to me. It probably had something to do with how I had blacked out from the explosion at that waterfront warehouse. Maybe. They were suspicious.

At least since that incident, I didn't have to face either Archer or Maddox on the mats again for some time while I was having physical therapy and occupational therapy. Got to give RangeMan credit for that: we get looked after well with health cover and treatments. But no consolation for a man who has other needs. I was experiencing a drought, almost longer than my deployments to the Middle East.

I received a severe tongue lashing from Archer for compromising RangeMan rules, breaking protocol and a raft of other things. I zoned out while he was mid rant. Suddenly he stopped in front of me. Fuck! I knew that he knew. So, my monitors duty was doubled. I was on report. He seemed to go on about that damned word disrespect.

Now here I am, waiting at the airport in Trenton, New Jersey. Can't make up my mind yet, but Trenton didn't look very appealing on paper nor from the air. I'll reserve judgement once I see Trenton proper. Airports can be very deceptive.

I really resent being shipped over here. I did not request a transfer but here I am. What the fuck is with that? I know Perry was overlooked for the transfer. He had family nearby in Newark. He was keen to be closer to home. No-o. They picked me. Assholes.

Family. Pfft. The further away from Memphis the better. Boston suited me, after a while, so I guess Trenton might make do. I'm not some rookie cadet. I have been so closely supervised lately that I can't even take a piss without Maddox being there. Maddox is the strong and silent type. In other words, he's big, he doesn't say much, and he doesn't have a sense of humor.

I sense a shadow looming and get a shock as the large dark man suddenly appeared at my side. Shit. I never heard his approach. Jeez. He's huge, bigger than Maddox with muscles bulging through his tight RangeMan t-shirt. Without a word he led me to the typical shiny black SUV parked nearby.

We drove in silence and I watched the scenery, neither of us being a conversationalist. I glanced at his unwavering stoic profile. Suits me. I hated being here already. If he asked me something now I'd probably get slapped upside for insubordination.

This is so fucked up. We'll see. I can't wait to see what this Ranger dude has in store for me. He's the head of RangeMan. I was feeling sarcastic and the scenery was not helping. I had been stewing on the flight over. Now I was ready to blow. I kept getting these irrational feelings of agitation. Best not to tell them about using steroids while I'm here at RangeMan HQ. I was fuming and resented being uprooted without just cause.

"So … I hear this Ranger dude is the Bossman. Is he one of those hard-nosed military Ranger types as his name suggests? And this Tank dude? He's his 2IC, yeah? Do I need to worry about him?"

We stepped out of the SUV after entering the underground parking lot. As I grabbed my duffel he slammed the back door shut and stood close, too close for my comfort, right in my personal space.

"Yes. You do," was all he said. Well, shit.

At the lobby entrance he turned and paused, "I'm Tank."

Oh fuck! Me and my big mouth. I never thought they would send the 2IC to fetch me from the airport. Boston was looking more attractive after all. Maybe they'll send me back to Boston or, save me any further embarrassment, and ship me off in a crate to some distant 'Stan'.

TBC

The characters belong to Janet. The plot and any mistakes are mine alone.

A stubbornpansy story with a little help from her friends.