A nod and that was enough for me.
“All right ladies and gentlemen. We’ve been granted leave for seventy two hours starting now. I understand Lieutenant Hunter has been in transit from the States for over a day, so go get some sleep. The rest of you, hit the gym, or the range, but don’t leave the base, not that it’s bloody likely you could find your way out. In sixteen hours, we’ll start running through combat and arms drills. You’re all professionals, so it shouldn’t be long before we’re operating like a well-oiled machine. Dismissed.”
The Praetorians stood and saluted smartly before filing out of the room.
I headed straight for the rack, asking Vincent where it was first. It had been a long and tiring day, full of interesting surprises. After finally finding my bunk, I thought of my lovely new swim buddy as I kicked off my boots and collapsed onto the bed. My final thoughts as my head hit the pillow were of soft knuckles and piercing green eyes.
III
Vatican Undergrounds, Rome
July, 2021 AD
I awoke after ten hours of uninterrupted sleep, having dreamt of nothing but floating green eyes.
When I was a child, sleeping had been a tumultuous affair. Even after nine hours of restful sleep, I still awoke every morning drowsy and was fatigued throughout the day. Thankfully, years of military service easily kicked that habit. As soon as my head hit the pillow these days, I was out like a rock and rarely remembered what I had dreamt about. I woke up well rested and ready to handle whatever was thrown at me.
Glancing at the wall clock, I noticed it was only six in the morning, but as for what day of the week it was, I had no idea. After hours in transit, jet lag, more time zones than I could count and sleep deprivation; I had no clue what week it was, let alone what day. Pulling myself out of bed, I felt the calling of a long, hot shower, and a fresh change of clothes.
I found the shower almost immediately, noticing it was “male-only” and wondered where the ladies room was. I gave up wondering as soon as the steaming water began to wonderfully scald my face, and twenty minutes later, I felt fresh, rejuvenated, and ready to start the day.
Before leaving, I synchronized my watch with the wall clock and decided to head to the mess. I noticed four sleeping bodies in the racks and figured the last was busy in the large multiplex outside. McDougal or Vincent could be anywhere. I also noticed another dozen or so empty racks, and immediately wondered if we shared a facility with the first Praetorian team, and also wondered if we’d ever cross paths. It seemed like I’d find out sooner or later, so I pushed it from my mind, and left the barracks. It wasn’t long before I wandered my way into the large training facility and started my way towards the food.
A few steps in, I heard the crack, crack, crack sound of the same high powered rifle I had heard before. A quick glance towards the shooting range revealed my lovely swim buddy carefully firing down range once again. Five full magazines stood in a neat row on the table next to her, awaiting their chance to fire. Girl was on a mission, or something.
I decided it was probably a good idea to ignore her for the time being, as I understood the Zen-like peace snipers experienced when shooting. I knew I hated it when someone disturbed me while I was shooting and considering her obvious temper, I made sure to give her a wide berth as I passed by.
Instead, I followed my nose.
Not that there was an actual aroma wafting from the cafeteria so early in the morning of course. In most modern training facilities, at least the ones that housed the kind of Special Forces units that required around the clock feeding due to their erratic schedules, traditional cooks and cooking facilities were no longer up to snuff. Instead, new technology was developed that took orders, processed them, and finally, cooked the meals before delivering them to a serving tray. They were quite expensive, but the casual food consumer could hardly tell the difference from a flesh and blood cook and an automatic food processor.
I stepped up to the machine and punched up an order of bacon, scrambled eggs, wheat toast, a bowl of cereal that looked like fruit loops, and hot tea, and waited while the machine worked its magic. A few minutes later, it dispensed a sectionalized tray that held extremely generous portions of my selection. Armies were run on their stomachs after all, as Napoleon’s disaster in Russia had proved, so the machines were designed to serve more than double of a normal serving, a detail I definitely approved of.
Even so, I called up an extra order of bacon.
Sitting with my back to the ever diligent Miss Lieutenant Van Strauss, I began eating my breakfast. I ate slowly, listening to the meticulous sounds of rifle discharges behind me. I’d barely made it through my first serving of bacon when the shooting abruptly stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her gather her rifle and spent magazines and carry them to the armory, emerging minutes later empty handed, undoing her tight pony tail.
I watched as she continued to ignore me, making her way to the automatic food dispenser. A few minutes later, tray in hand, she turned and walked straight towards my table, seating herself directly opposite me.
I put down my spoon, loaded with circular, fruity goodness, folded my hands on the table, and waited. Unsurprisingly, I found myself staring into those lovely green eyes, but managing to keep my cool this time.
“You know,” I said, breaking the silence. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this. I’m beginning to think you actually like me, what with the way you keep staring and all.”
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally broke her gaze, shook her head, and spoke.
“To begin with,” she began apologetically enough, “I would like to apologize for hitting you yesterday. I let my anger get the best of me.”
Her voice was just as lovely as her face, with a wonderful, light, German accent behind it that made me think of my childhood crush on Heidi Klum rather than say, Hitler. I was less than happy, however, with the reminder of her punch. I touched my eye socket and grimaced as the pressure caused a fair amount of pain.
“Yeah,” I said. “That one hurt more than just the pride.”
Her mouth tightened slightly. “Again, I am sorry. As I’m sure you’re well aware of by now, my… situation…” she sighed, “well I had my reasons for what I did, but they were the wrong ones. I shouldn’t have punched you.”
Reasons?
I decided to move on for the moment.
“I’m just glad Santino didn’t win the bet.”
“Why?” She asked curiously.
“Never mind,” I added, quickly glancing down at my tray, trying to push the thought from my mind. “Look, I accept your apology wholeheartedly, and want to reassure you that I didn’t take it personally. In fact, I’d like to apologize too. The way I acted upon meeting you was totally inappropriate. It’s just something that kinda happens.”
She cracked a small smile, the first legitimate one I’d seen from her yet.
“You know,” she said, glancing down at her tray before back up at me, “on any other day, in any other situation, under any other circumstance, I would have found it rather cute.”
“Yeah,” I blushed, playing with my fruit loops, “I get that a lot. Anyway, I’m glad we were able to push through this. You’d be surprised how hard it is to not get along with someone as attractive, intelligent, and deadly up to three thousand yards with a sniper rifle as you are. How’d you manage such a combination?”
She pointed her fork at me threateningly. “You do realize that that was a very risky question, especially for someone like you?”
“Like me?” I joked. “Why, whatever do you mean?
She smirked at me. “You’re just lucky we’ve been assigned as swim buddies or else I’d have to finish what I started with your face.”
I shrugged. “I’m told my curiosity gets me into trouble.”
“Well, you seem harmless enough. Fine. I was born outside of Regensburg, in the Bavarian countryside, on
