“Shut up and kiss me.”
And he did.
14
Mitchell looked high and low for Chief Thompson. Eventually, he found him topside, just outside the hangar doors with Nadia. They were watching the sun’s rise. Mitchell didn’t interfere and stepped away as quietly as he could. Before he stepped too far back, he could hear their conversation.
“I plan to go back though, Nadia. If the island is your home and your plan is to stay, then it’s my home, too.” Jack said. “I realized that while I was driving up here. My home is where you are.”
She pulled up closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I do not want to pull you away from the job you love, Jack.”
“It’s not the job that I love. It’s you. The job was something that I felt compelled to do.” He looked at her trying to find the words, “I’m good at what I do, but my heart isn’t in it anymore.” He sighed heavily. “There’s been too much deception from the beginning. And to be honest, I’m just tired.”
Mitchell couldn’t say that he blamed him. But he was going to end the deception today. He cleared his throat with a rather loud >ahem<.
Jack and Nadia both turned. “I couldn’t help but overhear part of what you were saying.” He started. “And while I understand completely, I just wanted you to know that today after the debriefing I intend to inform the squads about the augmentation.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Are you sure that’s the smartest thing to do?”
“Probably not, but like you said, they have a right to know.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll do my best to help keep the damages to a minimum.”
Mitchell smirked. “I’d appreciate that.” He turned to leave then added, “For what it’s worth Chief, I think you’re a hell of an operator. I understand your wanting to return to the island and make a family and what not, but I’d ask one thing.”
“What’s that, Skipper?”
“If she’s right and there’s something huge looming off the horizon…I’d appreciate it if you’d stick around long enough to lead us through it.” He glanced back through the hangar. “Although the rest of the squads are good and so are their team leaders, you’re still the team leader of First Squad for a reason.”
Jack stared at Mitchell to see if he was shooting straight with him and he could tell by the set of his jaw and the look in his eye, he believed every word that he said. Jack nodded and told Matt, “I’ll consider it, Skipper.”
“That’s all I can ask. See you at the debriefing.”
Mitchell walked away and left the two to watch the rest of the sunrise. “He needs you.” She said as she watched Mitchell walk away. “So do the others. You will be a very important part in turning the tide in the upcoming hostilities.” She breathed against his ear.
“You’re giving me a bit too much credit, don’t you think?” Jack gave her a lazy smile. “Maybe you think your mate is more important than he truly is.”
“I have foreseen it, Jack.” She offered solemnly. “I do not like it, but I have seen much of what the future holds and it does not bode well for many that I hold dear.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked, turning her face to meet his gaze. “What do you see?”
Nadia shook her head, her eyes watering. “It is not a clear vision, and it is constantly in motion, but many whom I care for could be lost depending on how things play out.”
“Like who?”
“Like my father. And Rufus.” She said. “Perhaps even you.”
“Don’t you mean us? We are tied together now, yes?” Jack asked.
“We are. But that is not what I am seeing. I am seeing you leaving me behind…to continue the battles you have always fought.” She choked back a sob. “Because you feel you must.”
Jack snorted. “That won’t happen.” He pulled her in tight against him. “You and me, baby. That’s all that matters.” And he kissed her against the cheek.
Nadia closed her eyes and fought against the vision in her mind. Although it was constantly in motion, it seemed to always end the same…with Jack leaving her behind, crying.
*****
“Sicarri, the emissaries are preparing to depart the city.” The messenger said, his head bowed and eyes low. “We have still not heard from some of our agents as to the familias in France or in the United States.”
The dark vampire clung to the darkest recesses of the cathedral’s basement. He contemplated the recent news for only a moment. “Send them anyway. If the familias have moved on, they can continue to the next. Perhaps remnants of their offspring remain in the area that can show them the way.” He stood from his marble perch and peered at his messenger. “The time is nigh for word to be spread. Let all of the familia come together for this.” His voice soft and low.
“As you wish, master.” The messenger stated.
“By the next full moon’s end, we will be the masters of the earth and mankind shall be our slaves, Puppet.” He whispered. “We shall see His creation bow to our will and we shall take our rightful place as masters of all we survey.” He stated.
“So mote it be, master.” He literally trembled as the words fell from his mouth.
“Let each familia spread the word to all of their children, to all of their familiars, to all of their underlings…petty rivalries shall be put aside and we shall unite as one to destroy any who dare stand in our way. Governments will topple, militaries will kneel, nations will crumble, leaders will humble themselves before ME! And we shall build an empire upon their ruined cities, a temple with their very bones and nourish ourselves with their blood as the reign of the Sicarii takes root in their rotting corpses.” He hissed, his eyes narrowing with pure hatred.
“As you have p-pr-prophesied, my lord.” The little messenger had prostrated himself upon the ground as the waves of pure energy emanated from the age-old vampire.
“Now go, Puppet. Send them to my service.” His voice a whisper, but the commanding power behind it more than the little vampire could handle. The messenger turned on hands and knees and crawled from the room.
The dark vampire turned back to the solitude of the darkness and his madness. The years of turmoil and anguish had turned into centuries, the centuries turned into millennia and the anger and confusion boiled over in his mind until he lost touch with anything close to his humanity. It was said that if a man had good in his heart, that golden sliver could be carried over if he had the misfortune of being turned to vampiri. But, should a man harbor darkness in him, that darkness would be amplified by the predator in the vampiri and what little humanity was left, that shred of decency that was there, would forever be gone.
What chance did this dark vampire have? His parents killed when he was so young, forced to watch them sliced and impaled upon a Roman sword at such a young age. To watch his sister violated and killed and for what? He couldn’t really recall what possible transgression, but he survived it. And he’d been saved by the Arab. The same Arab who’d taught him the art of killing. He’d planted the seed of darkness in him…or was it the Roman who killed his parents and sister? No matter who planted it, it was there, and he tended it until it sprouted and grew strong.
He survived. And he thrived. And he earned a name for himself as a prominent assassin amongst the hashishin, a name he was quite proud of. Something unheard of for a Jew. And yet, there he was when he encountered the Rabbi who told him he was forgiven of his sins. How could he do such a thing? And yet, he believed him. If he was cleansed of his sins, then how could he have been cursed to such a horrible fate?
It didn’t matter how many times he played it out in his mind, he couldn’t use logic to untie the twisted strings of shit and piss that the Fates had rained down upon this existence of his. He growled, a low and guttural sound rising in tempo until it became a feral scream. “You betrayed me!” he screamed. “I didn’t betray you, you betrayed me!” He punched the stone wall, breaking the mortar and unsettling the foundation of the cathedral itself. �
��I did what you asked and you do this to ME?!” He punched the wall again, shattering the bones in his hand, which instantly began to heal themselves. “You’re a son of a whore!” he screamed. “And I’ll be your undoing!”
*****
As Paul Foster dealt with the continuing hassles of relocating a group the size of his to the warehouse district, Damien felt less and less needed in their camp. Clean something, get out of the way, bring food. Who the fuck did they think they were, anyway? He was the vampire son of a Senator, for fuck sake. Well, the vampire son of a dead Senator, anyway. A dead Senator who humiliated himself by transmitting a video of himself having sex with a transsexual to every major news outlet in the world, then blew his own brains out before Damien could kill him. Damien growled under his breath again that he couldn’t rip his father’s beating heart out of his chest.
He felt more and more like a third wheel. He wasn’t old enough or trained to be an enforcer. He wasn’t smart enough to be in the inner circle, according to Paul. He wasn’t female so he couldn’t be a concubine. He was a fucking gopher. Go for this, go for that. He was so frustrated he could rip somebody’s head off, but at the lowest level on the totem pole, anybody he tried to rip their head off, would most likely end up ripping his head off in return.
He saw razor blades of sunlight sneaking in through pinholes in the side of the warehouse. He hated daylight hours, and not just because it would make him an asshole flambé. No, he always was a night owl, making the transition to vampire hours that much easier. He wasn’t even tired and the idea of spending one more minute in that dusty, nasty warehouse grated on his nerves. He wanted out, at any cost, but to leave now would be suicide. He paced the giant warehouse knowing full well that Foster was holed up in the offices, probably sleeping or feeding or fucking his brains out behind locked doors.
Finally, Damien made his decision, at first dark he’d take off. Eat the first person with a decent ride he came across and haul ass back for his father’s estate. He knew the combination to the safes, there was plenty of cash, cigars and fine liquors. He could build up his own army of dumbass, lowbrow vampires and live large. Hell, he could even start his own blood den if he wanted. He could do anything he wanted since Foster wasn’t calling the shots in D.C. anymore. If that power hungry cock sucker wanted to hand the reins over to a goat sucker, so be it, but that didn’t mean that Damien had to listen. He didn’t trust this Thorn character to hand the power back once he was done doing whatever it was that they were supposed to do anyway.
Damien felt this uncomfortable nagging sensation at the back of his neck but he tried his best to ignore it. He was a vampire on a mission now. Fuck them all. He was his own man now. And they’d all better stay the hell out of D.C. or they’d have to answer to him!
*****
The squads returned and stowed their gear, returned their weapons to the armory and grabbed quick showers in preparation for debriefing. Team Leaders had prepped field notes on their PDA’s and forwarded them to the OpCom prior to returning and Mitchell looked over their field notes before going into the training room. Chief Thompson met him in the hall as he worked his way to the front doors. “You sure you want to tell them, Colonel?”
“More than I’ve ever been, Chief.” Matt told him. “I’m not sure what Tasha did to me before my shift, but she did…something. Whatever it was has brought me peace, Phoenix. I know that this, even if it goes against my orders…it’s the right thing to do.”
“Okay then. I’ll be there with ya.” Jack said as both men walked into the training room.
Colonel Mitchell went over both missions with the squads, hitting the highlights and more importantly, their gut reactions. He’d learned a long time ago that noting an operator’s gut instinct, while not necessarily easy to quantify, still went a long way towards helping to identify things like motive, possible suspects when they weren’t readily identifiable and other non-quantifiable things that people tend to chalk up to their ‘sixth sense’. For example, when Spalding said that they felt they were being watched during their ground operations and then the Padre found evidence that perhaps someone had a video surveillance set up on a nearby hillside…that’s gut instinct. Or when Apollo noticed the something was ‘off’ with the zombies, and their lack of ‘stink’? Okay, maybe not really gut instinct, maybe that was just being very observant, but still, gut instinct played a part at the cemetery when he felt they should vacate the premises and they did. He felt he had to protect the squad, and he did.
“So we’re agreed that both squads felt that they were being tested?” Matt asked. He got a round of nods and affirmations from the men in both squads. First Squad, who was attending the debrief for ‘educational purposes’ were mostly silent to this point.
“To what end, could you tell?” Donovan asked.
“Not yet, Donnie.” Apollo answered. “But if I had to guess, I’d say somebody was trying to ascertain our methods. Get an idea of our response times…maybe just try to get a feel for how we do things.”
“We’ve been in action for how many years? So why now?” Donovan asked again.
“It might have something to do with what Jack’s wife came here to warn us about.” Mitchell interrupted. “As most of you know, Nadia, that’s Jack’s wife, came here with a warning of some really big, dark threat that is looming. She hasn’t clarified as to what it is because her clairvoyance simply doesn’t work that way.” The colonel seemed exasperated as he searched for the words. “She did her best to describe it to me, but…” he trailed off.
“It’s big and it’s dangerous.” Jack stepped in. “That’s really all she can see right now. And more than likely whoever or whatever was observing you in the field was some kind of scout or observer for whatever or whoever the threat is.” He said, crossing his arms across his chest. “At least, that’s the way we’re going to treat it.” He looked to Mitchell for confirmation who nodded.
“But Colonel, the threats we faced last night were minor compared to some of the shit we’ve seen.” Spalding stated.
“Speak for yourself.” Sanchez retorted with a half-assed grin. “I almost became vampire chow.”
“You handled yourself quite professionally.” Hank said. Sanchez gave him a heartfelt smile and Hank almost returned it but caught himself, maintaining his stoic expression.
“But for the most part, for a full moon, it was pretty lame shit.” Apollo stated. “Sir!” he added.
“All the better to help throw off whoever set up the activity.” Mitchell replied. “Look, it wasn’t ‘normal’ activity for us. You and I both know that real monster activity comes in waves. We may sit here for weeks or even months with nothing but training to keep us from going bat-shit crazy, and then out of the blue they go nuts and we’re up to our eyeballs in creeps. Whoever ‘they’ are created this activity so that they could observe us in action.” He watched their reaction and noted the squads nodding their heads agreeing with him. “They don’t know what you’re truly capable of. This works to our advantage in a real shit-hit-the-fan situation.”
“Agreed.” Jack stated. “And as long as whoever ‘they’ are doesn’t realize that, the better it is for us.”
A murmur of agreement went up amongst the squad members as they realized what the ramifications of the tests could have meant.
“Now…” Mitchell sighed. “On to the show and tell.”
Jack was trying to figure out how Mitchell would broach the subject and he hoped the colonel had mentally prepared something before coming in. Looking at him now, he realized the man was just going to wing it. He prayed that however he decided to go about it, the squad members took it better than he expected them to.
Mitchell stood there a moment as he tried to think of a way to tell them they were all damned. “I uh…” he looked at their expectant faces and the words escaped him. The door to the briefing room opened and Laura and Evan entered. She approached him and whispered in his ear a moment. Matt’s eyes went wide and he nodded.
He then looked to Evan and nodded.
Evan cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me a moment.” He pointed a small device at the corner of the room and pressed a button. A very high pitched noise erupted from the device and the operators all grimaced and pressed their hands to their ears, along with Jack and Mitchell. In fact, everyone but Laura and Evan followed suit. After a moment, he explained, “As you are aware, all of the common areas are monitored. Both video and sound are recorded for posterity. Although we maintain the files ourselves, our Oversight Committee has access to those files at any given time. In fact, at any moment, a team of IT geeks will probably come running down the hallway and burst in here to repair the damage I’ve just done.”
The operators all looked at him like he’d lost his ever loving blood-sucking mind. Mitchell stepped forward to explain further, “Gentlemen…and lady.” He corrected himself.
“It’s okay, Colonel. You can consider me one of the guys.” Sanchez offered with a smile.
“A guy with chesticals!” TD joked.
“And a really nice ass…et to their team.” Dom said, trying to pull his own joke.
“Don’t make me hurt you boys.” Sanchez warned while Apollo stifled a snicker.
“Pipe down.” Jack warned. “This is serious.” He watched as the team settled down and tried to get more serious.
Mitchell took a moment to gather himself. Just as he was about to speak, the door burst open and two techs came in with a box of tools and some gear. Mitchell stared them down and ordered, “Not now. This is classified.”
“But, sir…protocols dictate that…”
“Go!” he pointed back out the door and the two techs nearly tripped over themselves pushing each other out. Matt sighed audibly and gathered his thoughts again.
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