February 25th, 2013
Salt Lake City, Utah
Midday. The weather was mild with the sun being pleasantly warm. The sky was blessed with white puffy and tranquil clouds. They floated gracefully. In the city, people were out and about as they went about their business. A plethora of faces of varied expressions. Among the ever-morphing crowd was a middle-aged dressed professionally. She was on her way to have lunch with a dear friend. Buildings were passed and streets were crossed. Having navigating this city for years, she has become highly efficient at getting place to place. A brisk walk and she arrived at the restaurant. It had an outdoor dining area and sitting at one of the tables was her friend, who waved her to come over.
"Sarah! Hey! Come over here!"
Smiling, Sarah walked over and sat at the table. Her style of sitting was relaxed.
"Zoey…how's work?"
Zoey shifted in her seat and stretched. A twist of her back produced a crack. Her hands then rested behind her head.
"Ah, well, It's alright you know…same old same old."
"Trouble at work?"
"No, it's just that the days are now all blurred together. Things have become way too routine for my tastes. I want to do something exciting and new."
A waiter walked over and passed the pair menus.
"Well, if you want to do something new, you could order something different from the menu rather than your usual?" Sarah suggested, half-jokingly.
Zoey let out a small laugh.
"Maybe. A small step but I need a huge leap."
"We both do, Zoey."
The women conversed about other aspects of their lives. Drinks were served and they drank as they chatted, Nothing heavy, just tea and coffee.
"A vacation, perhaps?" Sarah said.
"Hmmm…I could…but where?"
Sarah shrugged. She looked around the area. The tables around them were sparsely populated for most of the restaurant's patrons elected to dine indoors. There was an outdoor television mounted on the wall closest to them. It was tuned to the news, with the people on-screen reporting on recent happenings in the sports world. Here, the tankery convention was advertised. Sarah's eyes lit up.
"Hey, the tankery convention! That's different!"
"The convention? Really? I don't know…"
"It's been so long since our time with the tankery team! Will you think about it, commander?"
Zoey's mind was flooded with memories. It has been ages since she had been called 'commander.'
"Remember our last day with the team? Before we went to college?" Sarah reminisced.
"How could I forget? Our team was disbanded. Everyone was crying…God…it wasn't how I wanted my time with the sport to end."
A brief silence as both women become solemn. Then, Sarah spoke.
"Do you think…they're still there?"
"After all these years? Yeah. We hid them well."
"Did we make the right choice?"
"Never doubted it. Like hell our tanks are going to be scrapped."
They clinked drinks.
"So, that convention…?" Sarah asked
"Oh, I dunno. I gotta sleep on it."
Zoey drank her coffee. As the liquid was being poured down her throat, she glanced toward the television. What she saw on the screen caused her to go on a coughing fit. She pounded on a table trying to recover,
"Zoey! You alright?"
"The…T…V…" Zoey said out of breath.
She took in big gulps of air and went straight toward the television with Sarah right behind. The pair stood right before it.
"What did you see?" questioned Sarah.
"Something that I thought I'd never see again."
The women paid full attention to what the television was saying.
"—in Arizona. This California school achieved a massive victory against their opponent, notably, eliminating ten armored vehicles with a single strike. They received no casualties of their own which was uncommon in the sport of tankery. The sudden appearance of a dust storm made the match that more exciting. " the newscaster reported.
More info was divulged and pictures of tanks were shown on screen.
"There!" Zoey exclaimed, pointing at the Jumbo
"Good God…it really is. That's ours." Sarah uttered.
"…and the SU-14! Cheryl commanded that!"
"This school has our old tanks. Somehow, they found them and are using them in their own team. Ha! Better than just rusting in some mine. Say…who are they?" Zoey questioned.
Sarah examined the screen.
"Ahhh….Mojave Rose."
"Them? Must've revived their tankery team. Wonder if our old high school did the same…"
Zoey then had an idea.
"Hey…if they managed to get this far into the tournament., then they could possibly make a visit to that convention."
Sarah looked at her with eyes filled with glee.
"You've made your decision then?"
"Yeah. You and I are going to Houston come April. We'll pay those kids a visit."
Barstow
The day's meeting was underway. The team was in Room 34 continuing their work learning Morse code. They were now becoming quite proficient at it. Team members were eager to show off what they have learned in a match. As the team did their exercises, Ashley did her work slowly. She now tolerated the work but remained the least enthusiastic of all people in the room. She removed her headphones and set down the transmitter. The room was loud with the sound of people clicking and messing with their Morse code machines. Her eyes wandered to find something remotely interesting to look at. Her sight latched on to Redwood and Buchanan sat at the desk at the corner of the room. They were both working on the administrative side of the team. She saw how they were both smiling and would occasionally let out a soft laugh. Ashley spotted Buchanan's hand laid of Redwood's shoulder and was caressing it. She nudged Heather, who was sat right beside her.
"Psst…Heather. Look at Mister Redwood and Miss Buchanan. Don't make it obvious though." Ashley said in a hushed tone.
Heather made a quick glance at the two adults of the room then looked back at Ashley.
"MmmHmm. They're a couple." she concluded confidently.
"Yeah, I'd bet good money that if they were along they'd be making out. Hey…do you think they already had—"
Heather softly put her hand on Ashley's mouth, which silenced her.
"I don't like where this conversation is going, no ma'am. It makes me uncomfortable."
Ashley pushed Heather's hand away from her.
"You don't even know what I was going to say. I could've said 'date'."
Heather put her hands together and a small smile appeared.
"Yes, but getting to know you in the past few months tells me otherwise."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. What you were going to say was something more…intimate. Something private."
"Whatever you say."
Ashley took a look toward Valarie and Emma. Both were focused on their exercises. With their headphones, they couldn't hear a word that they were saying. They were in their own world as they clicked away with their transmitters. Looking at the girls reminded Ashley of something.
"I got something to share about those two." Ashley said.
"Oh?" Heather remarked, inching closer.
"Though…maybe I shouldn't say…" Ashley said with a smirk.
"Yes, you do. You're just teasing me."
"Ah, I guess you do know me pretty good."
She got closer.
"Okay, when the team went to Phoenix for the match and we were all in that motel, I awoke early to find Valarie and Emma together in the bed."
"Oh God, you didn't catch them in the middle of—" Heather stopped herself. Her cheeks were red
"No…no. They were just sleeping. But even just seeing something like that gets a person thinking." Ashley said.
"Would you be surprised if they got together?" asked Heather.
"Not at all. They're inseparable. Known each other longer than they have known us or anyone else in this room. Hell, Emma took Valarie in when she was homeless, and, well, you gotta love someone to do that."
"True."
Now it was Heather who was smirking.
"You mentioned betting earlier…how about we actually do one?" she propositioned.
"Oooh, a bit of a gambler are ya? I like it." Ashley responded.
"What's the bet?"
"Truthfully, it's only a matter of time before Emma and Valarie become a couple. But who will make the first move? I got twenty on Valarie. Being the captain and all, requires this confidence and assertiveness that I feel will spill over to how she goes about her relationships." Heather said.
"Twenty on Emma. When she gets excited she just can't hold it in. She'll blurt it out first."
They shook hands.
"It's on. I'm going to get something nice for myself with forty dollars." Heather boasted.
"Wow, I would've never pegged you as a cocky person."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Ashley."
Ashley merely responded with a sly smile. They resumed their Morse code exercises. The room was rife with activity. At the end of the hour, Buchanan called them to attention.
"Alright everyone. We got some news."
She turned on a projector and continued talking as it warmed up.
"We've made a new acquisition. A tank destroyer. Though, there is a hitch."
The machine activated and an image of the SU-100 was projected in its decrepit state. It drew gasps and winces from the room as they looked on. Face after face was of puzzlement and shock.
"We're getting this vehicle for free along with some ammo for the gun. But it is up to us to repair it and get it ready for a match. Valarie said that we could do this the day it arrives, this Saturday."
Buchanan partially expected the team to face Valarie and scold her for making such a promise. She was anticipating a tense exchanged and was prepared to defuse. Instead, the team continued to surprise her, and delightfully so.
"We can do that, no problem." Robin said.
"All of us working on one tank? Easy. We'll be done by lunch! Hey…can we do a potluck that day?" Ray suggested.
The team seized on the idea.
"We can make it like, uh, a repair party! Yeah…those exist I think." Sage added.
"It's a party then." Buchanan declared.
"Bring what you can, but first and foremost, it is a repair day."
The team was dismissed not too long afterward. Once they all dispersed from the room, Buchanan and Redwood chatted.
"A party huh? What a great idea, this team deserves it." he said
"Yeah, it will make an otherwise mundane day fun.
Buchanan picked up her things and wore her jacket.
"That's another day done and dusted. You got any plans for tonight?" she asked
Redwood stopped his work on the computer.
"I got some work for the district to look forward too." he informed.
"Oh…" Buchanan said disappointingly
"We can do something tomorrow then."
"We will." Redwood replied.
He gave her a peck on the check. Buchanan left with a blush. Now alone, Redwood got to typing on the computer. He waited for a minute to ensure that Buchanan had truly left. He didn't have any work for the district, it was just a little lie so that she wouldn't suspect a thing. Something that would very much displease her but Redwood fully believed was necessary. In the search bar he typed,
"Mojave tankery friendlies."
A myriad of results appeared though the only relevant one was the top result, a local news article from 1990. How strange, Redwood thought, that no mainstream news sources had anything about the 1990 match. He didn't think about it for too long as he clicked on the link. The title of the article read,
"Tank torched at match; crew injured."
Redwood read the article.
"During a friendlies match a tank was hit and had its fuel tanks ignited. The cause is, as of now, undergoing investigation. The crew of the doomed tank suffered burns and smoke inhalation with the commander being enduring the most. The shot originated from a Jagdpanther, a German tank destroyer. In the interest of privacy, the American Tankery Association will not release the names of all parties involved."
Redwood rubbed his face.
"Damn. No names?" he complained
He continued to see if there was any other information that he can use.
"The schools involved were Mojave Rose and Westfield High. Both institutions declined to comment."
"Westfield, huh?"
Redwood looked up the school. He browsed through their website. Of course, they wouldn't mention a word about the incident. They did, however, have a section on their tankery team. Another search let Redwood know that they have restarted their team as well, thanks to state funding. Though Mojave Rose won't be seeing them in the tournament as they were eliminated in the second round. Yet, if Westfield is a properly managed school, they would have kept good records. Including anything relating to tankery, even if such records had a multi-decade gap. And, these records will have the names of people that participated in Westfield's tankery team over the years. For Redwood, there was only one name he sought.
The gunner of the Jagdpanther during that day in 1990.
Being a vice-principal, Redwood hoped that he had enough clout to request those records. He'll give Westfield a call tomorrow. For now, he shut down the computer and headed out. It was getting late and he wanted to get some good sleep.
Tuesday
If there was any place on earth that was a nexus of frustration and futility, it was Room 13 on the second floor of the science building. It was the chemistry class with incorporated lab stations. Ever since the first day of the semester, Valarie had struggled with the class. Lectures, worksheets, quizzes and tests all brought her down in every way. There wasn't a spark of joy to be felt. Not even from the experiments that were occasionally done. Normally, they were something people looked forward to as they showcased the practical applications of chemistry. Valarie didn't like them one bit. In fact, it was the experiments that she loathed the most. It was there where she felt the most lost, the most incompetent. On days where experiments were done, she was always the last student to leave, often with work unfinished. The teacher, being nice as he was, let her finish at a later time but it never diminished the embarrassment.
Valarie doesn't know her grade in the class and she was far too scared to check. She made it a habit to religiously check her home's mailbox and intercept report cards before her parents can get the chance to read them. As far as they knew, Mojave Rose High School didn't mail home report cards. So far, this system has worked with Valarie explaining to her parents that the school has 'gone green'. It required some work but as long as she just got through the semester, it'll be worth it.
Just endure.
The bell rung which snapped Valarie from her daze as her mind tied itself in a knot over a worksheet. Balancing chemical equations hard, okay? She stuffed the paper in her backpack and darted out of the classroom, down the stairs, and right toward the courtyard. Lunchtime. Underneath the familiar palm tree sat Emma, mind blissfully wandering around as she waited for her best friend. Smiles sprouted when the girls matched eyes.
"How was chemistry?" Emma greeted.
"You know how chemistry went."
"I guess I do."
Valarie rested her face on her hands.
"If I ever pass that class, it'll be by the skin of the damn teeth."
Emma rested a hand of Valarie's shoulder and couldn't resist twirling her fingers around.
"Oh, you'll pass. You never failed a class before."
"Yeah…but I came awfully close."
"Let's have some optimism here."
Valarie let out a big sigh.
"I'm trying. Believe me, I am."
Emma scooted closer to her.
"Hey. Ashley is in your class. Why don't you get her to help you?"
"Her way of helping is…unconventional and would only make me have a panic attack."
"How so?"
"Let me start by saying that I treasure my friendship with Ashley. I adore her company. But she's devious! During every test, she has some method of cheating. Always different each time. I remember this one time where she had a wireless earbud hidden under a beanie that told her all the answers."
"Wow. She must have an A-plus in that class."
"A B minus actually. You see, perfect score after perfect score would draw suspicious so she intentionally answers some questions to look 'natural'. She does this cheating so nonchalantly that I believe she has been doing this for years."
Emma had a surprised expression.
"Before high school and middle school…maybe all the way back in elementary? " Emma remarked.
"It is most likely that she cheated throughout her entire academic career. To keep it up that long without being caught? I'm more impressed than upset."
"So, I'm assuming you won't be cheating on your tests?"
"Nor will I break into a classroom to change my grade on the teacher's computer."
"Wha—did she really do that?" Emma asked, dumbfounded
Valarie nodded.
"Wow. She can really go above and beyond." Emma commented.
"No kidding. Let's keep that between us, huh? She can get in some serious trouble if that info ever went mainstream."
"Oh, I get that."
They ate their lunches. Silence fell on them as they were occupied with their food. Yet the courtyard was not a quiet place when lunch came around. In all other areas, the sound of conversation dominated. At one table sat two girls. One with long, flowing blonde hair that glistened in the sun. The other was a redhead, whose ginger hair radiated warmth. The blond girl had a magazine in her hand, explaining something to her friend.
"The winners of the tournament, along with a hell of a lot of bragging rights, get this wonderfully designed flag. Take a look."
She flipped to a page and showed her a picture. It displayed a flag mounted on a finely polished wooden pole. The flag itself was of crimson red, bordered by a luxurious gold thread. At the center of the flag was an eagle, in great detail, wings flapping. It too was made of the same gold thread. Clutched in one of its claws was a bundle of tank tracks, wiggling around as if they were snakes. In the other claw was tank rounds. Around this eagle was a golden wreath, an ancient symbol of victory. Underneath all of that was an inscription in an exquisite black thread.
INVICTA
MMXIII
It wasn't just a flag, it was a work of art. The two girls gazed at the photo for a few moments before the talking resumed.
"That is straight-up gorgeous. Seeing it in person must be better than looking at some picture." said the redhead.
"Waving it would be even better." said the blonde.
"Yeah, though a team would have to win it all to do that."
"True. And our school's team is doing pretty good. We got a real shot at this. It got me thinking…"
The blonde produced a signed registration form.
"You're actually doing it?" questioned the redhead.
"Hell yeah, Lana, and I want you to join me. Leah and Kennedy already turned in their forms."
A slow smiled appeared on Lana's face. Things were happening fast and she loved it.
"Alright Nora. This is happening. I'll grab a form and—"
Nora withdrew another registration, this one blank, and slide it toward Lana.
"I figured you'd agree." Nora said, pleased to have predicted correctly.
Lana grabbed the piece of paper and tucked it safely in her backpack.
"I'll turn it in first thing tomorrow morning. Oh man! What tank do you think we'll get?"
"Who knows? I'm no tank nerd. I just hope we're all together and not split up."
Elsewhere
The administrative area is one of the lesser-traveled areas of the schools. Students don't go here without reason. It had a certain quietness to it that bordered eeriness. Here, among all the buildings, distant sounds of student activity are echoed, becoming an ambiance. As such, people always feet somewhat weird when coming over here. Nonetheless, it was where Redwood worked for the past fifteen years. In his office, his door was closed. A sign that told other school staff he wished not to be disturbed unless it was urgent. He had a phone call to make. The number that he punched into the dial was one that was only circulated among school officials. Hopefully, this inside line will get him the information he wanted. Phone to his ear, he heard the tone, then a voice.
"Westfield High School." said a female voice.
"Hello, I'm Martin Redwood, Vice Principal of Mojave Rose. I'm calling to see if it is possible to request records of your tankery team."
"Afternoon Mister Redwood. I'm Westfield's secretary. Regarding your request, per ATA regulations, you would need a justification for these records."
"Uh…yeah…of course. I'm…ahh…conducting a demographics survey."
"A survey, eh? Can you go into more detail, please?"
Redwood tugged on his collar.
"Sure. Well, uh, some students at my school have this project regarding tankery. They want to compare the demographics of today's tankery to..uh..1990. I decided to help out to get them the most accurate information."
"Hmm. Please hold." responded the secretary.
Redwood was a nervous wreck. He was afraid that the secretary won't buy his 'justification.'
"Okay Mister Redwood, I had a talk with some of my colleagues in the office. They all like the idea of this survey. One of them will scan and email you the records of our tankery team from the year 1990."
A sigh of relief.
"Thank you. This is much appreciated."
"A pleasure. Though, I have to let you know that the ATA will be informed that our tankery records were accessed."
His heart skipped a beat.
"O-oh? Why is that?"
"Any school that wants their tankery team to participate in ATA-matches has to comply with a whole bunch of rules and regulations. One of which says that schools are obligated to inform the ATA if their tankery records are accessed by a third party. And since the ATA is the only professional tankery organization in the nation, there is no match that isn't managed by them so practically all schools with tankery teams abide by them."
"Hmm. Why would the ATA need to be in the know if the schools themselves decide if the records are given out or not?
"Though the information is sensitive, it is pertaining to our students so we have a say in the manner. I wouldn't think much of this, Mister Redwood. It's all just a formality."
"Alright then. Thanks again and have a good one."
The call concluded and the phone as set down. Redwood touched his forehead and felt something moist. He was sweating.
"Just doing something that would certainly get me fired…Lord." Redwood muttered to himself.
He stared at his computer where his email inbox was on screen. Twenty minutes elapsed when there was a ding. A new message. He opened it and saw that there as an attachment. The records. He opened it and was presented with a wealth of information. Everything and anything related to Westfield's tankery team during the year 1990 was laid out. Service records, supply lists, match descriptions. Then there was a list of tanks the team operated at the team along with the people who crewed them.
Panzer III…
Panzer II…
Panther…
Jagdpanther…!
Five people were listed as the tank destroyer's crew. His eyes moved slowly down the list. Then they stopped completely. There it was. The name he has been looking for a while now.
Gunner: MacKenzie Conner.
The person who nearly killed Gabrielle Buchanan.
"Gotcha."
Redwood was about to search that name on the internet when then his door opened. In the doorway was school staff.
"Sorry to intrude, Mister Redwood, but there has been a fight over by the library."
Redwood stood up from his desk.
"Ah man. Alright, I'm heading over."
His personal business will have to be put on hold for now. There was discipline to dispense.
Wednesday
The apartment complex was quiet in the early morning hours. The people who lived there were either still asleep or gone work already. In her unit, Heather was alone. Her parents had gone to work. They always had early hours. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Lonesome morning were something that she has become accustomed to. It was only half-past five o'clock and Heather was already fully dressed and ready for school. She was sat at the granite-topped bar on a stool. Before her was an empty plate, all that remained from the breakfast she had made herself earlier. The lights were off and as it was early, the sun has not yet pierced through the windows.
This darkness was intense and only briefly interrupted by a small bright light. In Heather's hand was a lighter. She flicked the fire on and off repeatedly, entranced by it. There was a certain beauty in the small flame. Beside her were pill bottles. Her medication. They were a godsend when her anxiety becomes overwhelming and when her anger is about to boil over to rage. They rested upon a folder, notes from her therapist. She picked them up and read through them. She already had done so before but there was on that irked her. One that angered her.
"Participation in tankery may induce anger and/or rage in Heather. I see it as a risk that could undo years of work. Ultimately, the choice on whether or not your daughter continues her participation is up to you."
Heather's therapist means well and she acknowledges that her being in therapy has improved her mental health somewhat. She recalls how worse things were before. But, this particular note was something that rubbed her the wrong way. A part of her interprets the note as a threat. She knows that is not how a normal person behaves but the feeling remains. It was entrenched.
"What does he know? No one truly understands you…understands us!" spoke a voice in her head.
Heather pouted. She took a deep breath
"I don't want to talk to you." she said aloud.
"You know what you want to do with that note. Do what feels right. What feels good!"
As if she was commanded, Heather grabbed the note with one hand and with another grabbed the lighter. She lit the note ablaze and watched as the fire consumed it. She let the fire reach her fingers which cinched her. What remained was ash on the granite-top.
"Good."
"Go away now."
"I've always with you from the day you were born. Think of me as a sibling that no one else knows about. Not even your parents."
"And no one will ever find out you exist. Only me and forever me. I taught myself how to hide you."
"No matter what you do, you will always hear things no one else hears, smell things no one else smells, see things no one else sees, and hear things no one else hears. This is your life. Sooner or later, all your efforts to hide me will be in vain. One day, I won't be hidden anymore. You'll be seen as some freak. Your family will see you as some disgrace and your friends will abandon you. And you can't do a fucking thing about it."
Heather stood up and paced around her home, nervously breathing
"Y-you…you don't control me." she said, voice strained.
"You stupid bitch. I OWN you. I. Will. Hurt. You."
"Nobody owns me! Especially not a voice in my head! You can fuck right off and go straight to Hell!" she screamed.
Silence. The voice retreated but it will return. It always did. Heather felt her heartbeat at light speed and was sweating like crazy. She downed one of her pills. She took deep breaths and grabbed her keys. She's leaving early for school, hang out in the library while waiting for class to start. Her things gathered, Heather left quickly out of her apartment. So fast was her departure that she failed to notice Buchanan standing there in the hallway, with a stunned expression. The thin walls let her hear every word. She was motionless. Buchanan didn't know how to react. She considered talking to Heather but she was already out of view before she could make a decision. What she heard couldn't be ignored. Buchanan walked on as she had some errands to take care of but was deep in thought. The well being of the team, both physical and mental, was her top concern.
Later
During lunch, the library was a popular spot for those who want to spend the break in the cool indoors. Without food of course, the librarian enjoys a clean space. For Natalie, she was there to do some research on an essay she was assigned. She walked up and down the aisles ad scoured the shelves. She had a general idea of what she wanted to write about but couldn't find the right type of books she wanted. Her head moved so quickly that her long dark brown hair flew into her eyes, annoying her slightly. In another aisle, as she was browsing, her eyes glanced upon a familiar figure as they darted around. When she focused her vision, it revealed to be Ray, sitting alone at a table reading a book. Seeing Ray no longer elicited any negative emotions. Not like before. In fact, she was slightly pleased to see a familiar face. Seeing Ray prompted her to do something. Something that she had to do.
Apologize.
She walked over to him. Ray was so engrossed in his book that he didn't notice her mere inches away.
"Hey." Natalie said, waving her hand in front of him.
"Uh, hello." Ray responded, looking from his book.
"Alone huh? Where's the rest of the boys?"
"I don't share a lunch period with them. So I just come here and read."
"Uh-huh. Watcha reading?"
" The War Of The Worlds by H.G Wells. It's my favorite."
"Oh yeah? What's it about."
"Martians invade Earth for their resources, humanity tries to fight, fails, saved by bacteria in the end. I've read it…over a dozen times now. You ever read it before?"
"No. Science fiction isn't my genre."
"Oh. Okay."
Ray resumed reading. Natalie remained where she stood. She felt awkward.
"Um…I have something to say to you."
He looked back at her.
"I just want to say…I'm sorry for acting like an ass when the team got started. I yelled at you and your friends, thinking that you only joined to chase girls."
"Oh we did. We're just really bad at it." Ray said with a laugh.
The manner of his speaking let Natalie know that he was joking. And, since he was joking, meant that Ray harbored no ill will toward her.
"So, you don't hate me?" Natalie asked.
"No? I never hated you. I don't have the energy to hate people. Look, when you said those things back then, I was hurt. We all were. But we got over it soon enough. You're passionate about the sport, and now, you're channeling that energy into something more positive."
Natalie stifled a blush.
"Heh. Guess I did."
"So, what brings you to the library?"
"I gotta do an essay about an ancient historical figure of my choosing. Do you think you can lend a hand or something? You don't have to of course…but if you're willing…"
Ray set down his book and clasped his hands with a smile.
"I know a thing or two about ancient history. Are we talking about the age of antiquity?
"Yeah. Got any suggestions? I know nothing about people who are nothing more than dust now."
Ray grinned.
"Ah, perhaps you could write about Julius Caesar. The man who led Rome's legions to conquer Gaul, then turned around and marched on Rome herself! Actions that turned the Roman Republic into an empire. Or maybe, you could talk about Alexander the Great who destroyed the Persian Empire. When you talk about his military feats, it is impossible to not mention the Macedonian Phalanx or the legendary Companion Calvary! There is also Hannibal Barca! The Carthaginian general who did the insane and crossed the Alps with elephants to attack Rome where they least suspected it! Or—"
"Ah, Ah, Ray, I get it. I got some candidates to write about it. You know your stuff about the ancient past."
"It's my favorite thing to learn about. I'll help you look for the perfect books for your essay. When is it due?"
"March 15th. I want to get this done early."
"Ah yes. March 15th."
Ray stood up.
"Beware Natalie. The ides of March." Ray joked said as he gestured to follow.
"Don't be weird."
Ray was pleased with the joke and didn't care that Natalie wasn't enthusiastic about it. He was always happy to make a reference to undoubtedly the most famous assassination in all of world history. He led her to a section of the library that had the books that will certainly help her. For the month of March, there were no matches scheduled yet they anticipated that it'll be a busy one nonetheless. Practice would continue of course, with the addition of getting the Puma ready for the race in Houston. Then there was the SU-100 to get fixed up, with Valarie promising that it can be operational in just under a day. Time will tell if the team can really do such a thing. Those were the things that were expected to happen in the forthcoming month. Yet, with thirty-one whole days, anything could happen. If anyone on the team is superstitious in any sense of the word, perhaps they should beware the ides of March.