They think I'm just another stuck-up politician.

I can tell it from their faces, their eyes, how they look at me. They see a man in an immaculate suit, in black leather shoes with silver wingtips, his hair perfect and his eyes sharp.

They see a frown, a look, hear a stuffy, overused reprimand, smell a faint sample of my sandalwood cologne.

They wonder why a guy like me- the guy who they assume I am- is in charge of men in buzz cuts and fatigues with assault rifles.

What they don't see- can't see- is who I am inside. I am a man in dusty, ripped camouflage, in combat boots caked with mud and the enemies' blood, my head covered by a cracked helmet and my eyes wild with fear and anger.

I am grinning from the euphoria of victory and crying from the pain of loss, cutting those unappreciative of my sacrifice a look, cracking a poisoner with my voice alone, sour and grime-covered from weeks in the bush.

So yes, children, think and say what you will. One day you'll see why it's a good thing to have Al Ikes the stuck-up politician on your side. And after that day, maybe you'll see who I really am.

Simper Fi.


Author's Note: Something I whipped up in about ten minutes or so. I really liked Al Ikes (his name is the word alikes- weird?) in Tentacles for some reason or other. If you haven't read it or its predecessor, Cryptid Hunters, both by Roland Smith, I happily recommend them to you. I'm working on my NATM fic though I've hit a roadblock, and a random crossover that nevertheless seems promising. Hope you enjoyed!