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Apr. 5th, 2005 02:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kbkAnother snip. 300ish words. Random observations on this future Rodney. Not quite happy with it, but want to get rid of it so I can sleep. Actually, this may be offensive if you're religious. Heh. Also a wee bit swearing.
To most of the recruits, the man in the office is a sort of a god. There's a little pile of offerings - coffee beans, mostly - outside his office to prove it.
He's been fighting the Wraith from the very beginning. The story goes that he was head scientist on the initial expedition, and it only seems incredible until you notice that alongside the piles of mission reports and personnel files and tactical suggestions there are specs for every piece of tech available on each side and reams of incomprehensible calculations with odd barely-comprehensible notes like, "but why doesn't it close?" or "only three % inc. v - not enough, dammit!" There aren't many left from back then, and supposedly he's the only one who had to be ordered to stop fighting on the front lines; for someone with an obvious understanding of his own importance, he's remarkably unconcerned with his own survival.
He's a sarcastic bastard who only remembers the names of the leaders but knows how best to insult almost everyone in the complex. He has combat reflexes even though he works at least eighteen hours a day, every day. He never returns a salute because he doesn't seem to expect them in the first place, though he gets them from everyone but the doctor and a couple of the old scientists, the ones who remember him from back at the Waking.
They're probably among the few who know why he keeps his gun so close. The only time he doesn't have the holster strapped on is when he's in the shower, and then he wedges it on the shelf above the showerheads, where most people put their soap. The doctor once muttered something about a shepherd, but nobody dared to ask for clarification. To everyone else, it's just one of the things he does.
He carries his gun, and he always has a surplus of pens, and he won't look at you more than once in any given meeting unless you're spectacularly unlucky.
He, personally, writes the names of each of the fallen on the Wall. He, personally, sent them out to die with the words, "fuck off and get to it already."
Once in a while, out in the field, when the enemy is closing in and the ammo is running out, you might hear a whisper from along the line.
"Please, Rodney, get me the fuck out of this one."
To most of the recruits, the man in the office is a sort of a god. There's a little pile of offerings - coffee beans, mostly - outside his office to prove it.
He's been fighting the Wraith from the very beginning. The story goes that he was head scientist on the initial expedition, and it only seems incredible until you notice that alongside the piles of mission reports and personnel files and tactical suggestions there are specs for every piece of tech available on each side and reams of incomprehensible calculations with odd barely-comprehensible notes like, "but why doesn't it close?" or "only three % inc. v - not enough, dammit!" There aren't many left from back then, and supposedly he's the only one who had to be ordered to stop fighting on the front lines; for someone with an obvious understanding of his own importance, he's remarkably unconcerned with his own survival.
He's a sarcastic bastard who only remembers the names of the leaders but knows how best to insult almost everyone in the complex. He has combat reflexes even though he works at least eighteen hours a day, every day. He never returns a salute because he doesn't seem to expect them in the first place, though he gets them from everyone but the doctor and a couple of the old scientists, the ones who remember him from back at the Waking.
They're probably among the few who know why he keeps his gun so close. The only time he doesn't have the holster strapped on is when he's in the shower, and then he wedges it on the shelf above the showerheads, where most people put their soap. The doctor once muttered something about a shepherd, but nobody dared to ask for clarification. To everyone else, it's just one of the things he does.
He carries his gun, and he always has a surplus of pens, and he won't look at you more than once in any given meeting unless you're spectacularly unlucky.
He, personally, writes the names of each of the fallen on the Wall. He, personally, sent them out to die with the words, "fuck off and get to it already."
Once in a while, out in the field, when the enemy is closing in and the ammo is running out, you might hear a whisper from along the line.
"Please, Rodney, get me the fuck out of this one."
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 02:18 pm (UTC)That stereotype really gets on my nerves, because part of what makes us love him is the fact that he's such a prickly bastard. And then you find these... things... where he's sappily married with a cutesy daughter and. um. yeah.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 04:19 pm (UTC)Having a rather more good natured day? Sure, see the beginning of Hot Zone.
Personally worried on the behalf of his friends? No problem, see Defiant One or Siege.
But cuddly wimpy, Oh my god why was I so mean, now I'll always be nice Rodney? Not so much with the existing.
Maybe he might get married and have kids. Lots of different kinds of people do. But cutesy-poo cuddly-wuddly infantile Rodney McKay? The hell?
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 04:25 pm (UTC)You used that, and I liked it.
Future fics are a damn cool genre, and future fics that play with the hinted future character developments of the various players and various epic plot arcs are very, very fun indeed.
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Date: 2005-04-05 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 08:53 pm (UTC)