A/N: So, that didn't take so long now, no? Anyway, I guess it's because currently, me and procrastination, we're like this, guys. I'm sure that once I'm done with my essay on the combat exclusion of women policy being lifted and my paper on either female soldiers in TV shows (years and years and years of frying my brain with every military themed TV show I could find should pay off at some point) or women as aggressors (because there's this awesome book on the female soldiers involved in Abu Ghraib that I really want to read and basically just need an excuse for), writing will be a lot slower, too.
Anyway. Thanks to Nausicaa for her awesome review and believe me... I didn't know about this twist, either until it occured. It was like one moment I'm discussing plot with Pingulotta and writing and they next Noruage does a one eighty and I'm all "The fuck, girl? O_o" but then it just kind of made sense, in a "never con a con (wo)man" way. I'm much more happy with the plot now and I just really hope I can finish this story before the year is out so I can go back to The Government Conspiracy Job and Not in Kansas Anymore because those two need love, too.
Twelve
Greenspan
And they're are telling me that my driving sucks.
Seriously, this has been the single worst drive in my entire life. Ten minutes of absolute, terrible hell. I didn't even know if Tom's thousand yard stare over the steering wheel or the creaking and screeching sounds originating from somewhere inside the car or Maureen's face white as sheet – and Maureen looking ready to puke all over the backseat at any moment – were the worst things of all. And then he gets out of the car, all steady, not a twitch, not a shake, saying, "Don't even think of griping. It did the job." The nerve that man has.
There's a look from Maureen as she gets out of the pile of junk I thought about affectionately dubbing "the Bad Mobile" – yes, I know that it's really, really lame – and I'm wondering if she'll disembowel me now if I help her or at least wait until the mission is finished. To both her and my relief she makes it out of the car on her own, after all. I'm pretty sure she'd have died of shame if she'd managed to face plant into the dirt in front of Tom. A proud one, that one is.
Anyway… "Okay, getting the ping again… yep, just as I thought."
"Err, Tom, what exactly are you talking about?" Because really, speaking in riddles will never be cool.
I can see him ready to heave a sigh, possibly a dramatic one but to his credit, he can stop himself in time, apparently. "Got a ping from Dee's transmitter again that just confirmed what I'd been thinking when I saw the direction the helo took. And I don't like it in the least."
Still not making any sense, Tom. "How about you… elaborate on that just a bit more?"
Did I just see Maureen roll her eyes? Nah, so totally not, I didn't. She'd never do that. Nuh-uh.
Then again, she's become kind of… cheeky in the last couple months. Maybe she did roll her eyes. Anyway… "I would, if you wouldn't keep interrupting me." I really can't… "Up there's a safehouse a couple of our CIA contacts liked to use for holing themselves up in and hide from their superiors if a mission really went down the drain. Either we've got a whole bunch of rogue agents or the famed CIA security is nothing but myth. Either way…"
"We're screwed, sir?"
"Exactly, Kid." I can see she didn't like the sound of it and I don't, either. But then again… it can't get much worse now, huh? "Okay, I think I know a short cut from here. Let's if we get to them before they try anything stupid on my NCO."
Our NCO, Mister, and don't you forget it. And I'm pretty sure that the only thing he didn't even tell us to "move it" again this time was so that he could get running right off the spot and forestall any corrections to that ludicrous "my NCO" thing.
And damn, he's fucking succeeding. I hate it when he shows off his superior Special Operations physique that kicks everyone else of us right in our run of the mill Airman's ass. One day, I will get back at him for that. Now, though, I'll concentrate on running up that stupid mountain to get our damn NCO back…
Moore
Ah, shit. Nearly overshot the position I just spotted and ended up right in front of the safehouse. No idea where that came from but at least we got here just in time for us to see them push an obviously blindfolded Dee down from their side and towards the house. Glad I told the girls to slow down as soon as they saw me lying down and crawl up the rest of the way. Also glad none of them managed to be faster than me.
So, anyway, I lie down on a small rise making it possible to spy at the house without being seen with just relatively small efforts. After another two minutes, the girls come up to my left, first Laura, than Reece and there's an embarrassing amount of glee in my head at seeing both of them having just a bit of trouble controlling their breathing for just a small moment. Hopefully none of that made it to my face because boy, that black eye that Reece gave me still hurts like the devil.
I just give them a short glance and then turn back to the house where almost everyone seems to have gone into now. I'd never admit that out loud but having basically just one and a half eyes to see properly doesn't exactly do wonders to my field of view and it's a fucking bitch when your main objective is observation of the enemy and finding a possible point of entry.
Then I have an idea and pull open one of my vest's pockets, pull out two radios and turn back to the girls. "Usual frequency, just in case the really big shit hits the fan. And because we're going to split…"
"No fucking way." Seriously, Laura? Seriously? Challenging my authority again? What made you think that's a good idea this time, huh? Was it… "It's just the three of us, Tom. How do you think is splitting us up even further gonna do any help?"
Reece doesn't look really convinced, either. I'd love to tell them to see how I care because even up here I can see that some serious shit is about to come down inside that cabin any minute now but then again, it might be helpful to tell them what this is about. "Us only being three is the point, Laura. What do you think is gonna happen as soon as we storm down there for our big daring rescue?"
I can see that her patience is starting to wear thin and maybe I shouldn't have said that "my NCO" thing but seriously, they have to see that there's no use in us getting gutted by whoever it is down there even before we reach the bottom of this little hill. "Alright, fine, what do you want us to do?"
Yes, that is actually a really good… ahem. "I need someone going over there to cover the other exits, two in the back, one on the other side from us and I need someone here as my second eye." And there goes my resolution not to mention the fucking eye… anyway. I point at Laura first. "So… you – cover." She doesn't look happy but I know what I'm doing here, trust me. I point at Reece next. " And you – spotter. Me…"
"Tom!" Alright, this is it. I've had it with this shit. I'm gonna… "You can't use Maureen…"
"Sir, I'm not exactly spotter quali…" Not you, too.
"I know, and I don't want you to spot for shooting, Kid." Mh. No idea where that came from but at least it seems to have pacified the… girls. I meant to say "harpies" but I guess I'm just being unfair here. That's just what usually happens when subordinates think that I'm running a fucking democracy or what… sorry. On with the show. "But I do need someone to tell me what they're saying."
Silence, for a moment, then uncomfortable squirming on Reece's part. Dammit. "I'm really not a good lip…"
Uh-uh, not this time, Kid. You ain't gonna get out of this one. "You spent your junior and senior year in high school and every summer during college in a summer camp for hearing impaired kids, Lieutenant. Yes, you know how to lip read." And this is why it's good to have your subordinates' records memorized. Even that's because you stared at her picture and wondered if she really was ever that young one time too many.
At least it seems to have effectively shut them up, so I turn back to the scene in the house and pull my rifle up from my back to hand the snipe scope I stuck to it with what seemed half a roll of duct tape to Reece when I hear a very low but emphatic "I hate you." that was definitely murmured by her.
Something in that actually pisses me off enough that I turn back to her with a stare that is hopefully suitably dark. "What was that?"
I'm pretty sure I can see Laura grin like a maniac when she grabs one of the radios from my hand rather roughly, gets up to slink over to her new hiding spot and pats Reece proudly on the shoulder. Who in turn doesn't even miss a beat and clear her throat or something when she says, "Nothing, sir." And probably just to mock the shit out of me, she even adds, "You're totally right, sir."
Sometimes, I really do hate my job.
Especially when someone who just told you she hates you like she does with all her heart scoots closer to you and brushes her fingers against yours when she takes the fucking scope from your hand and touches her feet with yours accidentally. It's times like those that I'm really, really glad that usually, there's something needing my attention much more than she does.
So I just prop up my rifle and lean against it, Noruega in one of the windows I can see firmly in my crosshairs. I just tell myself that the only reason I'm mighty pissed off about not Dee being here to spot for me as usual is that it's because he's done there, having done God knows what to him by that bitch and her cronies, not because my current spotter happens to be on my mind so constantly, ever since she walked down the stairs in my fucking shirt in my fucking house. Priorities, I totally have them.
