Lieutenant Colonel Harry Blaze, former Canadian SG team member and UN Peacekeeper, sat in a chair free of any decoration, staring at the paperwork in front of him. He had his left hand at his forehead in frustration and exhaustion, with a Batman pen between his fingers tapping at his head, and his right hand over the paper stack. His glasses lay discarded at his side, unused. A bottle of contacts cleaner lay at his side as well, with a small contacts container next to it.
Harry's eyes were red with exhaustion, and seemingly looked like they'd been dropped in bleach. His breathing was just barely noticeable, and the only noise he emitted that was in anyway hearable was the tapping of his boot-clad foot.
"Oh my god, I cannot do this." he said, as he got up to his feet in a flurry, sending paper flying everywhere, and knocking his glasses off the table. "Ah, fuck this duck." he said, reaching for his glasses, while also doing his best to show disrespect to the paperwork, and its writer. He absolutely detested paperwork. And this even more so, because it was requisition stuff.
He wore his glasses, and looked around him. The walls seemed weirdly claustrophobic, so he decided that he'd turn the paperwork in, unfinished and crumpled up. He was also tempted to flip off The Man, but decided against it when he remembered that he was military personnel, and would just get court martialed, therefore leaving him without a job, and without a way to pay that huge tab he had in Joe's Bar that he had running. One day, he'd pay that off. But that day, or year, was not this time.
He slowly picked up all of the papers on the ground, grunting as he bent his knee slightly in the wrong direction. 2011, Kandahar, Afghanistan. That was the date of the injury, and although it didn't affect him much ever, it wouldn't be nice if he broke that knee.
But that was of no concern to him currently. He walked out of his temporary ship based office, after grabbing whatever things he had and stuffing them in his pockets. He stretched himself, and made for the elevator, with the intention of getting to the armory to turn in the sheets. Although they weren't exactly done, all they needed was two more signed pages, which he wasn't going to do, because, as stated before "Fuck that duck.".
The bulkhead steel doors to the elevator opened with a hiss, like snake. Snakes were another thing he hated, and he'd encountered plenty in his desert ops,and even in Sierra Leone. There had been a 15 foot snake on one of the planets he'd been to, though, and he'd killed it on sight. Hagrid IV was the name of that horrifying jungle planet. He shook his head in disgust, as he pressed the deck level Armory button, as memories of the wildlife of the planet came back. 'Oh god the mosquito equivelants', thought his brain.
The doors hissed once more, and the deck indicator dinged, informing that the elevator had finally reached its destination. He stepped out of the elevator, his quiet steps echoing around the particularly lonely part of the ship in which he was currently in.
He walked up to the desk of the Quarter Master in the armory, and dropped the papers on it. The QM wasn't around, at this particular time. But as he turned around, he had second thoughts.
He turned around once more, and grabbed the papers, then flipped to the last two page. Four more signatures, so he might as well do them. He removed the Batman pen from his breast pocket, and signed in the blue ink, first writing "Lt. Colonel Harry Blaze" in ornate writing thrice on the second to last page, and his callsign on the last page. He smirked as he wrote it, appreciating his own smartness in choosing such an appropriate callsign. "Deicide", he wrote down. He'd try and make sure that the callsign truly fit him, if they encountered any rogue Goa'uld, or the representatives onboard decided to do something not so smart.
Finally, with his work for the requisitioning for the Strike Team, an official duty for him as a leader, done, he could finally get out of his office, and uniform, to get some well deserved sleep.