Samantha Carter was pleased. More then pleased. Pete, her new boyfriend, was getting along with all of SG-1. In fact, he and Jack were bonding over fishing, though Pete was doing most of the talking. Now if she could only shake the nagging feeling that disaster was hanging over the entire bar, it would be perfect.
". . . damn thing must have been eleven pounds," Pete Shannahan said, spreading his hands wide. "Mouth like a drain pipe, I'm telling you." He was one of those men whose broad shoulders made him look shorter then he really was. Thick black hair capped off a rounded face with hard, flat eyes. Cop's eyes. He was about to say more, but his phone went off. He took one look at the display and rose. "It's the station. I'll be right back." He headed out.
"He's a character," Daniel said as Jack O'Neill drained a whiskey and coke. "Don't you think so, Jack?"
"Character, yeah." O'Neill said and flagged down their waitress to order another drink.
"I too, will return," Teal'c said, and rose.
As soon as Pete was outside, he answered. "Shannahan."
"Pete, it's Murph. You're not gonna believe this, but we got Salazinski. He walked right into the station and surrendered. Get this, he says a big green man told him to turn himself in."
Pete grinned. He and Murph had been after Willy Salazinski for weeks. "Big green man, huh? That's new. Aren't they usually little green men?"
Murph laughed. "Who knows, huh? Anyways, he's your case, what do you want to do with him?"
Pete thought for a moment. "Let him stew overnight, I'll take a run at him in the morning. Eight sharp."
"No problem. I'll bring the coffee." Murph hung up.
Pete stuck his phone back in his pocket and turned to go back in, only to find himself face to chest with Sam's friend Murray. Pete was by no means a small guy, but Murray was huge. Dark skin, full lips and hooded eyes in a round face with a broad jaw. He was dressed simply, with a stocking cap on his head pulled down to his eyebrows.
"Pete Shannahan, I must ask you your intentions concerning Samantha Carter." Murray's deep voice seemed to rumble up out of his barrel chest and despite his relaxed posture, he gave the impression of barely restrained violence.
"Nothing bad, Murray," Pete replied, backing up slightly. "Nothing bad at all."
"I find that difficult to believe, given how many lies you have already told." Murray might as well have asked him the time for all his voice changed tone.
"You do not display the same body language and you have different pheramones, but are not Gou'ald or Tok'ra." Pete blinked in recognition at the word Gou'ald and Murray stepped forward. "You have heard of the Gou'ald. I ask you again, Pete Shanahan. What are your intentions concerning Samantha Carter?"
"Do they know what you are?" Pete shot back and Murray raised an eyebrow. "No one on earth talks like you do, that stocking cap is out of season, and I've never seen anyone your size outside of the NBA or NFL."
"They know. More then that, I may not talk about."
Pete hesitated. "I came here some time back. Last of my kind. Sam reminds me of my wife is all. Back home, I was a cop. Saw no reason to change."
"And the Gou'ald?"
"A fairy tale told to children. Or so I'd thought." Pete replied. But Murray didn't so much as acknowledge the fact that he'd given a clue as to what really went on inside Cheyenne Mountain.
Murray considered this and then seemed to come to a decision. "I am Teal'c, former first Prime to Apophis."
"J'onn J'onzz. Nice to meet you."
Basically, I got to thinking. What if The Martian Manhunter came to earth and there were no superheroes, no supervillians, none of that. What would a long-lived Martian shapeshifter do with himself? A cop seems the most likely. In at least one continuity, I seem to recall that J'onn had been the Martian equivalent to a cop before coming to earth. Probably the Justice League cartoon.