Along the shins, calves, thighs, hamstrings, groin, outer forearms and upper arms were thin pads that jutted out an inch from the clothing. Inside the pads was a polyethylene type gel that had a most unique property. In its normal state, the gel feels soft and squishy, like a stress ball, but when struck by a sudden and forceful impact, it instantaneously becomes as hard as titanium. The gel then liquidizes a heartbeat later, ready for another impact, and it could take the repeated hardening and softening transition over and over again. Additional protective measures the outfit provided were small thin strips of a very light and flexible Kevlar like material that ran vertically down the pants and horizontally along the jacket. For creature comfort, they were water resistant and additionally equipped with an internal A/C and heating system to keep the body comfortable in any weather condition
During the war in Iraq, the polyethylene substance was hoped to be the next evolution of the bullet proof vest, but early testing indicated it wasn’t effective enough to risk the lives of troops on it. It wasn’t until 2016 when advancements were made in its base properties that the gel finally lived up to its potential. It had been a ground breaking development for soldiers, having saved thousands of lives since its implementation.
I only had one problem with it. If it was so soft and flexible, I never understood why the entire pants and jacket set wasn’t completely smothered in the stuff. Leave it to the military brass to cut corners. Even the helmets supplied in the containers were the old school versions that were notorious for being anything but bullet proof. At least they had the decency to cover the groin, but any impact to that region wouldn’t end well anyway.
Sometimes I really wondered who was running the military.
Other than the combat fatigues, there was little other advanced equipment within. We were still supplied with electronic equipment like night vision, flashlights, and the means to charge their batteries, but I guess the papacy didn’t want to make its new soldiers too reliant on technology, something I was completely at ease with. A soldier was only as good as his training, instincts, and determination. To rely on technology was a recipe for disaster.
So the days went.
Thankfully, two weeks to the day after Caligula set his time table, he sent us a message, indicating his three assassins were required. That morning, the six of us spent two hours prepping the team assigned on the mission.
Bordeaux gathered a large amount of C-4, at least thirty bricks, enough to bring down the Colosseum had it been built yet. Vincent borrowed Santino’s UAV for aerial recon, and Helena grabbed the “Light Fifty” from storage. All three packed their night ops combat fatigues, tents, and survival gear.
As they completed their preparations, Helena pulled me aside, a frustrated look on her face.
“Jacob, there’s something I really need to tell you.”
I groaned. Usually, when women “really” needed to tell me something, I ended up spending a long night cleaning up tissues.
Holding my hands in the air, I feigned innocence. “You know. If this is one of those, ‘I may die tomorrow, so we should be together tonight’ speeches, you really should know that tomorrow is now, and we kinda missed our chance last night. I mean, I could try and get it over within the two minutes we have, but I think that would kinda ruin the moment.”
Surprisingly, Helena’s look wasn’t one of annoyed anger I expected, but instead, she wore a smile that could make even the most womanizing of men’s hearts think twice about her. I was ready for any reaction except that one. To make matters worse, she took a step closer, bringing her mouth just to the side of my ear, and dropped her voice to a seductive whisper
“My, my, Lieutenant, aren’t we the naughty one. Maybe you had better hope I don’t make it back, or I may make you put your money where your mouth is.”
Did I mention women sometimes annoy me?
I sighed, surprised at how easily I shrugged off my embarrassment. I really was getting used to her. “So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
Backing away and ignoring her little performance, she cut right to the point. “I’ve never killed anyone with the fifty. I’ve never even fired it in the field.”
“What!?” I practically yelled the word, enticing the rest of the team to turn in our direction. Throwing them a smile, I grabbed Helena by the arm and pulled her away from the group. “But your record said you had confirmed kills with it. Dozens.”
She sighed. “My government tweaked my record a bit. They just wanted one of their own on the team and they knew the Pope wanted a female, and the team was looking for snipers. I was the only obvious choice. Don’t worry. I’m not a spy or anything. Everything else you know is true.
I gave her a skeptical look, but I had to believe her when she said she had nothing to do with changing her record. It’s hard to trust the Germans. Opting to focus on the problem instead, I put my hands on my hips, and looked at her sternly. “So what’s the problem?”
She looked confused. “What do you mean, ‘what’s the problem’? I’ve never had to do this before. I was nervous in the training room with you backing me up for Christ’s sakes.”
“So the fuck what? You’re a trained professional. Just do the math and don’t forget to breathe. You don’t need me.”
“Are you sure? You said you’d always be…”
I reached my arms out and gently grabbed her shoulders, staring at her reassuringly.
“Helena. I understand your confidence has taken a hit since your late fiance, but you know you’re a great shot. Just focus. You’ll do fine.”
I gave her shoulders a squeeze, and smiled. She couldn’t afford distraction on the mission, especially with two of her teammates’ lives on the line.
She looked at the floor, sighed, and set her shoulders before straightening her posture, the confident demeanor I saw in the training room returning.
She looked up at me. “Thanks. I’m not sure where I’d be without you.”
“Probably not in ancient Rome, for one.”
She hit me on the arm, but it was playful. “Very funny. Anyway…” She said, glancing towards the rest of the team, none of whom were paying us any attention. “… thank you. Your confidence means a lot.”
Nervously, she leaned up on her toes, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Her kiss lingered just long enough to seem suggestive, more than the peck a mother would offer her son. As she pulled away, she sheepishly looked at the floor, before heading back towards the rest of the team looking over her shoulder briefly to smile at me.
I reached up and rubbed my cheek, ironically, on the same side of my face she had punched weeks ago. I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond.
What was that for? She can’t actually like me. I’m not that lucky. I’m just some guy that resembled some other guy, who she probably didn’t want to think about. Still rubbing my cheek, my head shaking involuntarily, I turned to follow her. Vincent was giving some last minute orders when he noticed me.
“Hunter. Nice of you to join us. We’re about to head out, but there’s a few points I need to go over first.” He turned back towards the group. “First off, while we’re gone, Hunter’s in charge. Wang,” Vincent looked over at the man who had been brimming with confidence and cockiness just a few weeks ago, but no longer, “I’m sorry, but you’re in no shape to take over yet.”
Wang had been steadily getting better ever since McDougal’s funeral. His sense of humor had returned, and considering how many goofballs were already in the group, he slowly started fitting in again. He and Santino had formed an allied front against me and my music tastes, and their taunting made me miss my temporally lost mp3 player more and more.
But Wang knew he wasn’t fully there yet, so he accepted Vincent’s decision with a small smile.
“And Santino,” Vincent said, directing his attention to the biggest goofball of them all, “sorry, but placing you in command…”
Helena interrupted. “… would be about as responsible as giving America’s nuclear launch codes to a toddler.”
Vincent’s shoulders slumped. “Basically.”
Santino was shocked, but not out of embarrassment. “Strauss? Was that a joke? A real, honest to God joke? I can’t believe it. There may be hope for you, yet.”
She looked him square in the eyes, pausing dramatically. “It wasn’t a joke.”
