R is for Redshirt

He'd gone to an alien planet, and had spent the majority of his time shooting aliens.

Was there something to be learnt from that? Some grand statement about the nature of the universe? The suggestion that first contact between sapient species would inevitably end in bloodshed? That conflict was the nature of reality? That if one travelled across the stars, just as Man had the seas centuries prior, that it was best to bring the sword rather than the pen? Or perhaps it was a warning that space travel was bad. Like, really bad. Bad as in, "science fiction is right, space wants to kill you, so don't be buddies with it." Like, so bad, there was a message here so deep and so universal that his poor human mind couldn't process it.

He doubted it. He was a member of the DEO, and that meant apprehending aliens, or sometimes shooting them. Least it had until about a year ago. But if he was going to be spending time shooting aliens, then it stood to reason that sometimes, he'd have to do it on alien worlds.

"Hey."

Cole grunted as Forbes took the seat opposite him in the DEO's cafeteria. One benefit of being based in National City rather than outside it was that the staff got access to better food. Heck, there was even a Starbucks.

"Doc checked you out?"

"Wouldn't be here if she didn't." He took a bite of his sandwich – chicken this time. Used to be tuna, but when you encountered stuff that was fishy on a daily basis, one's appetite for eating actual fish tended to go the way of Krypton.

"Yeah, fair point." Forbes took a sip of coffee (or tea, he couldn't see through the styrofoam cup) and said, "okay, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"I said nothing."

"And that's a second lie."

"What happens if I make it to three?"

"I beat it out of you."

"Oh."

It was an empty threat, or at least, he hoped it was one. They'd been in this together. First high school, then the Army, then the DEO. And then…well, one year ago, things had changed. To explain how and why things had changed was something that Cole suspected Forbes already knew on some level, but how he reacted to the 'knowing' was something he could only guess at. For over a decade, humanity had to live with the knowledge that aliens existed. They'd got lucky in that the first such alien was one that wasn't keen on vaporizing everyone (even if he could do so), but there were plenty of aliens who were intent on that. That, or world conquest, world destruction, or some combination of the two. In that time period, he and other DEO troopers had spent their time shooting aliens, apprehending aliens, and at times, killing aliens. Usually the shooting happened regardless of the outcome, and he'd shot everything from armour piercing rounds, to kryptonite rounds, to armour piercing kryptonite rounds fired from guns that said EAT THIS! or DIE, ALIEN SCUM! written on them. Course, per recent revelations that the DEO had a Martian at its head and a kryptonian as an on-again, off-again ally/assistant/intern, those slogans weren't common these days, but-

"Fine," Cole said, pushing his chicken sandwich aside. "You want to know what's bothering me?"

"Well, yeah. That's why I asked."

"It's that Winn guy."

Forbes stared at him for a moment. A moment after that, Cole imagined lasers coming out of his eyes, because ever since Supergirl joined the DEO, he couldn't look into anyone's eyes without being afraid of being reduced to a pile of ash.

"Winn?" Forbes asked. "You mean that tech guy from Catco?"

"Yeah, that guy. The guy who came with us on the mission."

"The mission to Maaldoria?"

"No, the other mission to a planet in the Arcturus system with red skies."

"Well, technically, every planet in the Arcturus system would have red skies."

"Hah hah. But-"

"Or maybe not. I mean, Earth has blue skies because of its atmospheric composition and yellow sun, but Venus and Mars don't. And Mercury doesn't have any atmosphere, so-"

"Thank you, Neil Degrasse Tyson, but…" Cole sighed. "I mean, there's that guy with no real training, jumping around exclaiming he's not a redshirt, while we do all the heroics, and…no, wait, my bad, Supergirl saves the day because she always does."

Forbes looked at him funny. Not stared, per se – no nightmares of blue laser beams for him tonight, thanks – but rather…looked. Yes, apparently there was a difference between looking and staring, even when seated at the same table, and complaints about DEO staff not being able to use the Starbucks bathroom without purchase.

"Okay," Forbes said. "I mean, I get the whole jealousy thing, but-"

"I'm not jealous," Cole said, and given Forbes's lack of any "liar" comments, he could tell his friend believed him. "Trust me, I've had over ten years to get over any jealousy that I don't get to fly, or shoot laser beams, or hold up heavy stuff."

"Or ice breath," Forbes murmured. "Or x-ray vision. Or-"

"Point is, that Winn guy going on about red shirts," Cole said. "I mean, sure, I get the reference, but…"

"But?"

"But it's not as if we haven't lost people even when Supergirl's helped us. And, yeah, it's good she is, I'm not doubting that, but…" He sighed. "I mean, you ever wonder what it's for? We've got two cape-wielding superheroes-"

"Three."

"Two," Cole said firmly, not wanting to talk about that weirdo in Gotham City that Superman may or may not have worked with in the past. "Two of them, one of whom is a part-time employee which more or less gives us god mode."

"You complaining?"

"About god mode? No. About the fact that we still lose people, but get even less of the credit?" He paused, taking another bite of his chicken sandwich. "Yeah, it gets to me. I admit that. And being on Maaldoria, actually helping people, not losing anyone for once even against aliens with laser guns, seeing that guy go on about redshirts, seeing that we've now developed solar grenades because why not…" He sighed, leaning back in his seat. "You think any of those kids are going to go home to their parents and talk about us? Or will they go on about a blonde in tights?"

Forbes leant back in his own seat. His tea, or coffee, or whatever it was, was being left on the table. Left out in the cold. For a moment, Cole could sympathize with his fellow beverage. Not that he was an actual beverage of course. He was just the entrée. The course that got people hyped for the real thing, so that everyone would talk about the delicious meal that saved them, and…alright, this metaphor was getting weird.

"Is it worth pointing out that we're DEO, and were never going to get any credit anyway?" Forbes asked. "Not to mention that we've got a president who's offered amnesty for aliens, so we don't have to round them up?"

"No on both counts."

"Then all I can say is…" He sighed. "I dunno, tough? Suck it up? Get a costume like that Guardian guy."

"I'd rather not."

"You sure? He doesn't wear a cape."

"No, he carries a shield around like he's Captain…Captain…"

"Captain?"

"Sorry, can't remember." Cole shrugged. "Some guy in some comic, but not part of this setting. Or something."

"Right." Forbes took a sip of his beverage. "Oh, it's coffee by the way."

"But I didn't ask."

"No. But you were wondering."

Cole snorted and returned to his chicken sandwich. He couldn't say he felt better. Couldn't say that part of him didn't resent Supergirl, Superman, or anyone else who was more photogenic than someone who wore simple body armour and carried a simple rifle. Couldn't say that he was completely onboard with the president's alien amnesty act.

But hey, at least the chicken still tasted good.

A/N

So am I the only one who watched the episode Supergirl Lives and think "wait, did DEO grunts actually accomplish something other than being cannon fodder?" And holy Rao, I was right. I mean, wasn't counting it on lasting (it hasn't), but I suppose the DEO had to function before Supergirl or J'onn revealed themselves, so...yay?

Anyway, drabbled this up.