Post by nate on Jul 18, 2012 21:35:34 GMT -5
 stuck in this daydream. [style=font-family: helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 6px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center;]MELIMUS PRIME FULL NAME: Nathan Michael Xavier ALIAS: Nate DATE OF BIRTH: 22/10/1988 AGE: 29 OCCUPATION: US Navy SEAL SEXUALITY: Heterosexual PLAY BY: Tomas Skoloudik TOURIST [style=background-color: #CAD1CE; border: 10px solid #CAD1CE; font-family: georgia; letter-spacing: 10px; color: #7A908E; text-align: center;]all about me THE PROLOGUE [/style]"How badly do you want it, Sailor? You ready to quit? Go ring that god damned bell and send yourself packing!" I turned my head towards my instructor, downright pissed off at the very notion that he'd think I was a quitter. "Shove that bell up your ass, Instructor Dennis!" A smart-ass to the bitter end. "Drop and push it out!" One rep of fifty. "Drop and push it out!" Two reps of fifty. But did you think it did a god damned thing to temper that smart-ass, defiant streak in me? Truth be told, I probably wouldn't be standing here where I am today if it had. None of the poor son of a bitches in Class 241 likely would have. As it was, few of us made it through. But this... This defiant, smart-ass kid would one day grow into a Chief Petty Officer for SEAL Team 10. He'd eventually move on to wind up as a medic for his team. A father. Albeit not a husband... but a father. I am Chief Petty Officer Nathan Xavier and this is who I am. This is what I do. IT'S WHO I AM Some ten years ago, I was told something that would stick with me for the rest of my life. And the words I received weren't from a motivational speaker... They weren't from one of my drill sergeants or – hell... Not even from my old man. The most important words that I ever heard actually came from a man that I hold in the utmost respect and a position of honor in my life. One of my best friends and mentors. My older brother, Dallas. I'm pretty sure, looking back on it now, that the words that Dall gave me were sage words of wisdom passed down from one of his boot camp drill instructors at the time or something of the sort. But one way or another, they stuck and they stuck damn well. A man'll do many things in his life, Nate. But it's not just the things he does that make him who and what he is, but the way he carries himself and the way he does those things that make him the man he is. Listen when you're spoken to. Really listen. And honestly... those words are the words that have probably done their best to temper me into the man that I am today. Now... Looking back on that... most people would believe that my older brother is a significant few years older than me but... the truth is... Dall just managed to get his shit together a lot earlier in life than I did. But no... we both came into the world on the same day. In fact, we're identical God damned twins. He just had he priveledge of having been a whole nine minutes prior to me. You'd think that nine minutes wouldn't make or break a man, but you'd be amazed at how much of a badge of honor it seems to my brother to have been a whopping nine minutes before me. But back to the story at hand. He's always taken things a little more to heart. Doesn't make me any less serious than him when push comes to shove... I'm supreme smart-ass and royal pain in the ass brother when you manage to catch the pair of us alone... But I'm smart and, thanks to my older brother... I listen. Dall enjoys being out there on mission day in and day out and, honestly, he's a damned good operative. Yeah. I have seen him in action. I know how he works. He's ruthless and couldn't make me any god damned prouder to be his brother... There's not so much something about him that's off. I definitely wouldn't say that. But amongst SEALs... there are men that are naturally born to lead... And there are men that are naturally born to kick ass and take names. My brother falls into the former category. Undoubtedly. I fall more directly in the latter. I have what it takes to lead and I know I do. And I'll get there someday. Unfortunately, that asshole nine-minute-older-brother has a few years up on me in the teams. But I'll show him. IT'S WHAT I WAS My brother and I grew up on on a ranch in Texas in a part of the great south that could very much be a harsh and unyielding world for a young man in terms of how quickly the world can come down around your ears. We never really knew our father to any degree... and I was a hot head growing up. Wanted even less to do with the man than Nate did. But it's amazing what ten years of ass-busting work and wanting something bad enough can do to a man. Now, anyone back home in Texas wouldn't believe that I was once the rowdy one. Guess they just don't know me well enough, huh? Mom was doing her best to make a life for the pair of us growing up and I sure as hell appreciate everything she did for that reason... But times were tough. Times were really damned tough. We didn't have a whole hell of a lot save the back breaking work on the ranch that our mother gave us to help us get by. We had hard work ingrained into us from a damned young age. And we learned pretty quickly that if we wanted anything in life, we couldn't just stand there with our hands out, waiting for someone to hand it to us. We needed to get up off our asses and earn it. And believe me... to a man like me... there's no greater feeling than earning everything you work for. My brother... Christ... He had natural talent in him from the get go. He was a quick thinker, fast on his feet and he had a set of morals on him that likely would have brought Mother Theresa to tears. He was the tough-as-nails kid at school that no one wanted to screw with and I'm pretty damned sure that Dall knew what he wanted to do with his life well before I did. I'm still convinced that's why he got such a huge damned head start on me. Or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself for the time being. And then there was me. I was strong, tough in my own way... but I lacked a certain finesse that he had. I often got by on sheer determination. I was the kind of kid that – when I wanted something bad enough – put my head down and ran at my target... full force. No stopping me. Sometimes I think that sheer luck and determination were the main qualities that got me as far as they did. While my brother's motto growing up followed more along the lines of “I'm a God damned Golden Boy” my motto was more along the lines of “Practice makes perfect; and if that don't work, bulldoze your way through it anyway”. And it's a motto that I can't help but still adhere to. It's gotten me as far as it has already, hasn't it? IT'S WHAT I AM Anyway... Like I said... My lot in life is very similar to that of my brothers. Very similar. The road we wound up taking to get there, however, is a little differing from man to man. Every guy that enlists in the Navy with the explicit intent of becoming a Frogman has their own reasons for wanting to join one of the most elite and prestigious brotherhoods that any man with a military career can wind up becoming a part of. For me... It was all about cleaning my act up. Making something of myself and pushing myself. The truth of the matter was, I needed this. Years of determination had gotten me next to nowhere and it was damned well time that I put the skills I had learned as a kid up to bat. For my brother? Well... who the hell knew what was going through his mind when he set himself down the path. I remember Boot Camp, Indoc, BUD/S and Hell Week well. I think every man who's been in my position remembers those months of training too well. Those are the months that can easily make or break a man and, more often than not, they do. Boot Camp was a god damned walk in the park in comparison to all the rest. I sailed through it like it was nothing. But that's because, really, it was nothing. The first week of Indoc was pretty brutal... Or so I thought. I was warned well in advance. SEAL Training isn't about being the biggest guy. But it was sure as hell about being the toughest and the quickest both mentally and physically. They had us crashing through the surf at 0500 and rolling around in the sand when we were too slow to respond to commands. Indoc and BUD/S were months full of “Hooya, Instructor!” and a metric assload of determination and willpower. Guys around us dropped like flies. I had a whole new dose of respect for my brother who graduated through this shit and wound up with his trident before me. And maybe that was part of what drove me on. I wanted to be like my brother. I wanted to kick ass just as badly. All I know was that seven little words rang through my mind. They were the seven words screamed at me as I was dragging my sorry carcass through the waves at Coronado. You have to want it bad enough. And I wanted it. I wanted it so God damned badly that I could taste it. Indoc was about rooting out round one quitters. It was tough for beginners, but nothing compared to the weeks to come. BUD/S was even harder and even more of the guys dropped out in the first day of BUD/S than they did in all of Indoc. And then Hell Week. Hell Week was exactly what it sounded like. It was hell. We went over sixty hours without any form of sleep performing the most rigorous tasks and stretching our bodies to the limits. Christ... Some of us were dropping, involuntarily, like flies through the injuries we sustained. Through a rock portage, I fell off an overhang and broke my god damned arm, but I picked my ass up off the ground and kept on hiking, carting a 180 lbs boat over my head on a broken arm. But I remember when they lined us all up on the beach again. We had our arms linked in the surf as the water came up, crashing over our heads. Finally, they called a formation up and out of the water. They told us to get ready for the next eval and at that point, we were so god damned delirious from the hell we'd already been through that we scarcely believed it when they told us there wasn't a next round evaluation. We were done. We had made it through. I'm pretty sure we damned near deafened our Instructor with the resounding Hooyah! we gave him after that. But I made it. And I was forced to postpone my BUD/S Second Round training a few weeks while my arm healed up from the first go. But then I was back in it. And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt... If I could make it through Hell Week, I could damned well make it through anything they put me through. AND WHO I WILL BE... So where do I stand now? Well... Let's see. After graduating, I wound up working with SDV-1 for a while. In mid-2005 I was reassigned to SEAL Team 10. Yeah. The same SEAL Team 10 that suffered one of the greatest losses the United States Special Naval Warfare Unit has ever seen in its history. Five good, strong men went down in one hell of a fight and before you ask... yeah. I knew them. They were brothers. They were friends. They were some damned fine soldiers and I'm sure there isn't a person at Dam Neck, Little Creek or Coronado that would disagree with that. They were damned good men who died doing what they did best. No one will forget that. Least of all the guys that are on Team 10. The ones that worked beside them all and the ones that carry on their legacy through that little damned patch that we have that proudly displays the cast of brotherhood we hail from. And what do I fight for? Why do I get up every God damned morning and do what I do? Well... truth be told... I did it for Country before. I did it because I'm a patriotic son of a bitch. I bleed red, white and blue. I may sound like a cocky bastard to you but, believe me... After the shit I've gone through to get to where I am. After the shit each SEAL has to go through to get where we are. We well deserve a little bit of cockiness. Each of us believes we're invincible because we have to be. For our country, we have to be. But these days... There's a little extra to my reason to stand ready. My daughter is eight months old. See... I got into this piss poor situation. A woman I was seeing at the time that I wanted to see the best in and apparently screwed up pretty hardcore with. She was just a girl right from South Carolina. Young. Hell. She's twenty. Twety years old and is now the mother of my daughter. She was looking for financial security from a man who got danger pay. She thought I'd marry her when I found out that she was pregnant. Of course, there was one major flaw in her little scheme. I'm not a dumbass. We used protection, but with a little poking and prodding, I discovered that the bitch had tampered with said 'protection' with the explicit intent of getting pregnant. I guess she got what she wanted. I pay child support like a good, dutiful man. But as far as I'm concerned, the only good thing to come out of that union is the eight month old, blue eyed angel that I call my daughter – Sarah Anne Xavier-White. So you wanna know what I fight for? Why I do this shit and why I press on? I can sum it up in three words that no Frogman will ever forget; Duty. Honor. Country. |
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