The man in uniform walked down the hallway, his movements crisp. Military precision. That was his modus operandi and he saw no reason to deviate after a life of military service. The medals on his chest bore out the results of that life and that precision. He turned down the hallway, continuing through until he reached the office of the director. It wasn’t everyday he was called into the office of the director of the CIA, but this was one of those days. He stopped at the desk, waiting. The director’s assistant checked him in and he walked over to the row of chairs and sat.
“You know, you can relax a little.” A man said, sitting in the chairs as well.
He turned towards him. He saw the man was sitting, but maybe lounging was the better description. “I’m good, but thanks.” He said.
“This is the CIA. I think blending in is part of the job.” He said.
The military man smiled, saying nothing. His blue eyes shifted back to the wall as he waited.
Time passed and eventually the assistant gave him a look. “He’s ready for you.” She said and he rose, heading into the office.
The director was in front of his desk, leaning against it. He smiled, extending his hand. “David, you didn’t have to get all dressed up.” He said, as David Waller and the CIA Director shook hands. “We’re much more laid back than dress greens.” He added.
“Habit of the trade, I’m afraid.” He said.
“Well, Captain Waller, that’s one of the reasons why you’re here. Please sit down.” He said, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. After Waller sat, the director smiled, folding his arms over his chest. “So, why do you think you’re here?” He asked.
“I don’t think it’s recruitment.” Waller replied. “If I was being recruited I think it’d be a little less direct. The Company still works in the shadows on a lot of things.” He said.
The director nodded, so Waller continued. “I was thinking maybe you wanted me to train some people at the Farm. But that didn’t make too much sense either. I’m former JSOC. I’ve been attached to Delta as well as SEAL Team Six. I didn’t get a chance to work directly with the Nightstalkers. But you know all this. If I was being brought in to help train, you still wouldn’t have approached me like this.” He said.
“Right, this was an official meeting. On the books so to speak.” The director replied.
“So…I must admit, I’m at a bit of a loss.” Waller said.
The director unfolded his arms, moving around the desk and sat down.
“We want you to kill someone.” He said.
“Who?” Waller asked.
“Well…you, to be quite frank.”
Stars and Stripes Forever
Moderators: VagueDurin, Nichalus, WoH Coordinators
KING OF STRONG STYLE
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KING OF STRONG STYLE
Posts: 18882
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
“That…makes no sense.” David said with an uncertain smile. He glanced, uneasily around the room. It was a pretty straight forward looking office, a little old timey. That didn’t mean that there weren’t ways for this room to be bugged or monitored. He looked over at a wall of bookcases, thinking he was going to see a camera hidden among the books.
No, that’s not how the CIA worked.
“I’m sorry but you’re going to have to explain this one to me.” He said.
The director nodded, walking over to a bar and pouring them both a few fingers of scotch. “I totally understand your reservations.” He said, handing one of the glasses to Waller. “What I’m asking sounds really weird to say. But it’s what we’d like you to do.”
“You know, that didn’t actually clarify anything.”
The director laughed. “Yeah, I know. Okay, so what’s going on is you know a lot of the activities of SHIELD. They’ve got Freedom squad, they’ve got Gamma squad. But those are both teams that operate in the light. Where there’s light there’s a lot of darkness. A lot of shadow.” He said, smoothing out a wrinkle in his suit jacket. “What we’re interested in is putting together a team of people that operate in those shadows. As you said, the Company does work in the shadows a lot. You’ve got the experience, you’ve got the record.”
David nodded. That at least could make sense to him. He knew he was capable and he knew he was qualified. However, his mind drifted back to an earlier part of the conversation, as the director had referenced it himself. “But if this was what you and the Company wanted to do, why are you approaching me like this? This is a conversation in a bar or in someone’s car late at night. Not in your office, an official meeting.”
“Sure, but that’s part of the charm. If we simply straight out recruited you, the fact that you had this meeting would be a bit weird, I agree. On the other hand, if we organize something here you seem to be deceased, and we let some time pass, then we should be in the clear.”
“I’d be tied to the CIA forever.” David said.
The director walked over to his desk, opening a folder. David saw it was his jacket, with a photo of him paperclipped to the documents inside. “I know, but the psych evaluation we did on you a few months ago indicated there’s a high chance you were a lifer in the military anyway. You were going to be tied to something no matter what, David. Did you expect you would rise up the ranks and maybe become some kind of political adviser type? Do you want to be in the situation room?”
David looked down at his hands for a few moments, flexing his fingers. “I don’t know, it has some kind of appeal. I wouldn’t mind being in the room where the decisions are made. Not out of some sense of self-importance. You just have the best opportunity to help the guys on the ground. You can influence the decision making.”
“I’m offering you the ability to be in the field and protect those guys on the ground, regardless of what the decision up above is.” The director said, closing the folder and looking up Waller. “Listen, you don’t have to give me an answer right now.” He said. “Think about it, and we’ll be in touch.”
No, that’s not how the CIA worked.
“I’m sorry but you’re going to have to explain this one to me.” He said.
The director nodded, walking over to a bar and pouring them both a few fingers of scotch. “I totally understand your reservations.” He said, handing one of the glasses to Waller. “What I’m asking sounds really weird to say. But it’s what we’d like you to do.”
“You know, that didn’t actually clarify anything.”
The director laughed. “Yeah, I know. Okay, so what’s going on is you know a lot of the activities of SHIELD. They’ve got Freedom squad, they’ve got Gamma squad. But those are both teams that operate in the light. Where there’s light there’s a lot of darkness. A lot of shadow.” He said, smoothing out a wrinkle in his suit jacket. “What we’re interested in is putting together a team of people that operate in those shadows. As you said, the Company does work in the shadows a lot. You’ve got the experience, you’ve got the record.”
David nodded. That at least could make sense to him. He knew he was capable and he knew he was qualified. However, his mind drifted back to an earlier part of the conversation, as the director had referenced it himself. “But if this was what you and the Company wanted to do, why are you approaching me like this? This is a conversation in a bar or in someone’s car late at night. Not in your office, an official meeting.”
“Sure, but that’s part of the charm. If we simply straight out recruited you, the fact that you had this meeting would be a bit weird, I agree. On the other hand, if we organize something here you seem to be deceased, and we let some time pass, then we should be in the clear.”
“I’d be tied to the CIA forever.” David said.
The director walked over to his desk, opening a folder. David saw it was his jacket, with a photo of him paperclipped to the documents inside. “I know, but the psych evaluation we did on you a few months ago indicated there’s a high chance you were a lifer in the military anyway. You were going to be tied to something no matter what, David. Did you expect you would rise up the ranks and maybe become some kind of political adviser type? Do you want to be in the situation room?”
David looked down at his hands for a few moments, flexing his fingers. “I don’t know, it has some kind of appeal. I wouldn’t mind being in the room where the decisions are made. Not out of some sense of self-importance. You just have the best opportunity to help the guys on the ground. You can influence the decision making.”
“I’m offering you the ability to be in the field and protect those guys on the ground, regardless of what the decision up above is.” The director said, closing the folder and looking up Waller. “Listen, you don’t have to give me an answer right now.” He said. “Think about it, and we’ll be in touch.”
KING OF STRONG STYLE
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Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
David was in the hotel bar. He had taken a few days of leave in order to make the meeting. He had to get back to JSOC soon, but he figured he could use the time to see a little bit of Washington D.C. in the process. However, the list of people he knew in DC was rather slim, so he didn’t really have anyone to do that with or to visit. So, he found himself alone, in the hotel bar. It was a pretty decent hotel, but nowhere near what the lobbyists and out of town politicians might have stayed in. It worked for what he wanted in life though.
He was nursing a whiskey on the rocks when he realized someone was walking towards the booth he was sitting in. Looking up, he saw a beautiful woman. She looked like a bottle blonde but her brown eyes were rather pretty. They reminded Waller of the mahogany dining table his grandmother used to sit him at to do his homework. Back when his mother used to work doubles to keep the lights on.
The woman was tall, taller than the average woman. Wearing a maroon bodycon wrap dress, it was designed to show off the curves.
“Mind if I join you?” She asked, tucking hair behind her ear and giving him a small smile.
He shrugged, leaning back in the booth. “If you want to.” He said. “You waiting for someone?” he asked.
“No, I’m here to talk to you.” She said.
He raised an eyebrow. Now that was a little surprising. “Do I know you?” He asked, as the waitress came and asked the woman for her order.
She asked for a red wine and sat back in the booth herself. “Not yet. My name is Rowan Chapman.” She said. “I was asked by our mutual friend to talk to you.”
He smiled. “Well, now finally something that makes a little sense.” He said.
“Why, women don’t approach you in bars all the time?” She asked, a grin on her face.
“Back where I’m from?” He asked. “No, no ma’am, they do not.” He said. “Besides, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve been in a bar in a long time. If I’m drinking it’s usually with the guys in someone’s basement.” He said. “So, what our friend thinks a pretty face in a skirt is going to convince me, where he couldn’t?”
“First off, I appreciate the fact that you called me a pretty face.” Rowan said, as the waitress brought her wine. She took a sip from it, after she gave him a salute with the glass. “Second off, I would like to note that this is a dress, not a skirt.”
“My apologies.” He said, gesturing with his free hand. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get down to business.”
He was nursing a whiskey on the rocks when he realized someone was walking towards the booth he was sitting in. Looking up, he saw a beautiful woman. She looked like a bottle blonde but her brown eyes were rather pretty. They reminded Waller of the mahogany dining table his grandmother used to sit him at to do his homework. Back when his mother used to work doubles to keep the lights on.
The woman was tall, taller than the average woman. Wearing a maroon bodycon wrap dress, it was designed to show off the curves.
“Mind if I join you?” She asked, tucking hair behind her ear and giving him a small smile.
He shrugged, leaning back in the booth. “If you want to.” He said. “You waiting for someone?” he asked.
“No, I’m here to talk to you.” She said.
He raised an eyebrow. Now that was a little surprising. “Do I know you?” He asked, as the waitress came and asked the woman for her order.
She asked for a red wine and sat back in the booth herself. “Not yet. My name is Rowan Chapman.” She said. “I was asked by our mutual friend to talk to you.”
He smiled. “Well, now finally something that makes a little sense.” He said.
“Why, women don’t approach you in bars all the time?” She asked, a grin on her face.
“Back where I’m from?” He asked. “No, no ma’am, they do not.” He said. “Besides, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve been in a bar in a long time. If I’m drinking it’s usually with the guys in someone’s basement.” He said. “So, what our friend thinks a pretty face in a skirt is going to convince me, where he couldn’t?”
“First off, I appreciate the fact that you called me a pretty face.” Rowan said, as the waitress brought her wine. She took a sip from it, after she gave him a salute with the glass. “Second off, I would like to note that this is a dress, not a skirt.”
“My apologies.” He said, gesturing with his free hand. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get down to business.”
KING OF STRONG STYLE
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Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” David asked.
Rowan leaned in, giving him a smile. “You technically haven’t said no yet, Captain.” She replied. “Besides, we’ve only been talking for about half an hour.” She added. “Not nearly enough time for me to work my charms.”
“Pretty slow then.” He said, as the waitress brought him another whiskey on the rocks.
“Ugh, fine. It’s like you’re asking for me to turn up the heat.” She said.
He laughed. “I’m doing no such thing, ma’am. I’m trying to tell you that I’m not so sure that the director has a winning idea with this one. Some of his others, great.”
Rowan’s lips curved downward. “How would you know his batting average anyway? He’s the director of the CIA. You should barely know what he’s up to.”
He lifted the glass up in a toast. “Touche.” He sipped at his whiskey. “So, why do you think it’s a good idea?” He asked, setting the glass down. “Be honest with me, Ms. Chapman.”
“Deniability.” She said. “Sometimes people have to get their hands dirty and it’s better that dirt falls on other people than some of the shinier toys in America’s arsenal.” She said and made a face. “The world’s arsenal really, when you think about it.”
He looked over at the television, which was playing a Washington Commanders game. He squinted for a second, trying to make out the score.
“Commanders are down two scores, but it’s only ten points.” She said.
He glanced back at her. From where she was sitting, she was in something of a blind spot, tv wise. “You a big Commanders fan?” He asked and she shook her head.
“They’re playing the Panthers, I’m from South Carolina.” She replied. “Broke my dad’s heart, he’s from Atlanta.” She said and he laughed. “What?” She asked.
“Good man.” He said and she grimaced.
“You’re a Falcons fan?” She asked and when he nodded she leaned back, resting her head against the wall of the booth. “Okay, I take it back, this isn’t going to work.” She said. “I’m sure the director will find someone else.” She said.
“I’m being disqualified because I like the Falcons?” He asked, eyes lighting up now.
“Well, you like losing too much.” She said. “Julio Jones, wasted. Matt Ryan, wasted. Roddy White, wasted.”
“Cam Newton, wasted.” He retorted and her eyes widened.
“I’ll fight you right here, don’t think I won’t David Waller.” She said, her voice rising over the mild din of the DC hotel bar. Rowan reached out to lightly flail at him.
He caught her wrist before any damage could be done. “Probably put up a better fight than Cam did against Denver in the Super Bowl.”
“He did better than your defense did against the Patriots.” She said.
He closed his eyes. “Alright that one hurt.” He said.
She smiled. “Think about it, Waller.” She said. “Someone has to be in the trenches. Someone has to get a good block so the running back can get that first down. That’s what the director wants.”
Rowan leaned in, giving him a smile. “You technically haven’t said no yet, Captain.” She replied. “Besides, we’ve only been talking for about half an hour.” She added. “Not nearly enough time for me to work my charms.”
“Pretty slow then.” He said, as the waitress brought him another whiskey on the rocks.
“Ugh, fine. It’s like you’re asking for me to turn up the heat.” She said.
He laughed. “I’m doing no such thing, ma’am. I’m trying to tell you that I’m not so sure that the director has a winning idea with this one. Some of his others, great.”
Rowan’s lips curved downward. “How would you know his batting average anyway? He’s the director of the CIA. You should barely know what he’s up to.”
He lifted the glass up in a toast. “Touche.” He sipped at his whiskey. “So, why do you think it’s a good idea?” He asked, setting the glass down. “Be honest with me, Ms. Chapman.”
“Deniability.” She said. “Sometimes people have to get their hands dirty and it’s better that dirt falls on other people than some of the shinier toys in America’s arsenal.” She said and made a face. “The world’s arsenal really, when you think about it.”
He looked over at the television, which was playing a Washington Commanders game. He squinted for a second, trying to make out the score.
“Commanders are down two scores, but it’s only ten points.” She said.
He glanced back at her. From where she was sitting, she was in something of a blind spot, tv wise. “You a big Commanders fan?” He asked and she shook her head.
“They’re playing the Panthers, I’m from South Carolina.” She replied. “Broke my dad’s heart, he’s from Atlanta.” She said and he laughed. “What?” She asked.
“Good man.” He said and she grimaced.
“You’re a Falcons fan?” She asked and when he nodded she leaned back, resting her head against the wall of the booth. “Okay, I take it back, this isn’t going to work.” She said. “I’m sure the director will find someone else.” She said.
“I’m being disqualified because I like the Falcons?” He asked, eyes lighting up now.
“Well, you like losing too much.” She said. “Julio Jones, wasted. Matt Ryan, wasted. Roddy White, wasted.”
“Cam Newton, wasted.” He retorted and her eyes widened.
“I’ll fight you right here, don’t think I won’t David Waller.” She said, her voice rising over the mild din of the DC hotel bar. Rowan reached out to lightly flail at him.
He caught her wrist before any damage could be done. “Probably put up a better fight than Cam did against Denver in the Super Bowl.”
“He did better than your defense did against the Patriots.” She said.
He closed his eyes. “Alright that one hurt.” He said.
She smiled. “Think about it, Waller.” She said. “Someone has to be in the trenches. Someone has to get a good block so the running back can get that first down. That’s what the director wants.”
KING OF STRONG STYLE
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Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
Waller sighed. “I get the point, it’s just more about the doing it aspect.” He said. He watched her brow crease. “The dying part. I have family back home, you know. Not much, but something.” He said.
“I get it.” She said, placing a hand on his. He looked down at her hand on top of his and she squeezed his fist. He dragged his eyes back up to hers. “It’s tough, I get it. But I think the plan was to bring you back to life anyway. Something about a miracle cure.” She said.
“Not very sneaky.”
She shrugged, pulling her hand back. “I may have only been half listening, to be honest. He can go on and on sometimes.” She said and he laughed. “What, it’s true. You’ve only had to listen to him when he’s trying to sell you on something, not when he’s trying to explain something. You’d be surprised.”
He looked over at the game and saw it had entered the fourth quarter. “I think it’s time I headed back to my room.” He said.
“So soon?” She asked and looked around. “The night is young Waller. What else do you have to do?”
“Go to sleep.” He replied. “I like my eight hours and all that.”
“Beauty sleep, yeah, I’m with ya.” She said and gave him a wink. “I can tell it does great things for you.”
“You know I can tell when you’re trying to hit on me, Rowan.” He said.
She made a face at him, like a sigh of relief. Her chest caved in a little as she pressed a palm against her sternum. “You just…” She said and waved her hand in front of him. “You just give off part good ole southern boy part nerdy guy from high school vibes, you know that?” She asked and he nodded. “Okay, as long as you’re aware, that’s really the thing you know.” Rowan said.
“I get it, ma’am.”
“Then there’s that. You gotta stop calling me ma’am. I’m younger than you.”
“You look barely out of college.” He said.
“I am barely out of college, compared to you.”
“So I’m old and I’m country and I’m a nerd.”
She leaned her head back against the booth and groaned a little bit. “Waller, I’m not trying to be insulting here. I can picture you painting Warhammer models. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, just that’s the vibe you give off.”
“Please tell me if I say yes to this that you’re not going to be part of whatever I’m doing.”
“That’s very hurtful.”
“If I give off that vibe,” he said, rising from the table and digging into his pocket for his wallet. He produced a few bills and placed them on the table before finishing his drink, “You’re like a little bird that just mocks me.”
“Like a mockingbird.”
“Like a harpy. Good night, Rowan.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh no you didn’t, mister.” She said, downing the rest of her wine and sliding out of the booth behind him. She must have been around five seven he realized, but she was closer to his height thanks to the heels she wore. “You did not just call me a harpy.” She hissed.
He tossed her a lazy smile. “It sure seems like I did, ma’am.” Waller made his way to the elevator and pressed the button, staring at the metal door as she stood next to him, staring daggers at him, arms folded over her chest.
David wasn’t sure if it was the still relatively little amount of alcohol he’d drank or the dress she was wearing, but Christ in heaven Rowan Chapman was looking amazing. He kept his focus on the elevator and walked in, pressing the button for his floor.
She waited for the door to close.
“You need to apologize.” She said.
“Why?”
“If we’re going to work together this is a terrible way to start off.” She said.
He countered, stealing a glance over at her. Still annoyed with him. “I haven’t said yes.”
“We both know you’re going to say yes, Waller.”
“We do?” He asked with enough nonchalance he was hoping would annoy her further. She’d been giving him shit all night, it felt good to be throwing some of it back at her.
He strode out of the elevator and down the hall to his room. He got to his door and she was right beside him. “Rowan.” He said, looking at the door.
“Waller.”
“Rowan.”
“Waller.”
He turned. “Here’s the thing. Unless you’re also staying in this fine establishment, I think you’re at the point where it could be construed as trespassing.”
“I’m a government agent. I’ll have you know that the director’s exact words were ‘Chapman, stick with him until he says yes,’ so there you go.”
He thought about that for a second. “So if I go in here, you’re going to follow me?”
“I’m duty bound and obligated by virtue of the oath I took to the United States government, Captain.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t sleep in the nude do you?”
“You gotta be the worst federal agent I’ve ever met.”
“How many have you met?”
“Enough of them.” He said. “I’m not saying yes, I’m saying I’ll think about it.” He said, swiping the keycard. He opened the door and stepped inside, turning quickly. Waller held a finger up. “If you try to follow me inside I will restrain you.”
She weighed her options. She had many choices available to her. She opened her mouth and he cut her off.
“If I wake up and you’re in there, I’m going to be pissed.” He said and thought about it. “If you follow me home, I will get MPs to lock you up.”
She closed her mouth.
“All I want is a ‘yes’, Captain.” She said.
“All you’re getting is an ‘I’ll think about it.’ “ He replied.
“Guess that’s going to have to be good enough.” She said. “But if you ever call me a harpy again, I’ll throttle you.”
He grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind, Agent Chapman.”
She smirked and punched him in the stomach lightly. “I’ll see you when I see you, Waller.” She said and started walking down the hallway.
He was watching her and she looked over her shoulder. “You can look at my ass, I know you’ve been thinking about it.”
“I’m rolling my eyes at you.” He said. “You can’t see it, but it’s happening.”
Rowan bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. “You’re still looking at it.”
“Only to make sure it isn’t coming back towards me.”
The door to the elevator opened and she stepped inside, turning.
They stared at each other as the doors closed.
“You wish.” She said.
In that moment…he kind of did.
“I get it.” She said, placing a hand on his. He looked down at her hand on top of his and she squeezed his fist. He dragged his eyes back up to hers. “It’s tough, I get it. But I think the plan was to bring you back to life anyway. Something about a miracle cure.” She said.
“Not very sneaky.”
She shrugged, pulling her hand back. “I may have only been half listening, to be honest. He can go on and on sometimes.” She said and he laughed. “What, it’s true. You’ve only had to listen to him when he’s trying to sell you on something, not when he’s trying to explain something. You’d be surprised.”
He looked over at the game and saw it had entered the fourth quarter. “I think it’s time I headed back to my room.” He said.
“So soon?” She asked and looked around. “The night is young Waller. What else do you have to do?”
“Go to sleep.” He replied. “I like my eight hours and all that.”
“Beauty sleep, yeah, I’m with ya.” She said and gave him a wink. “I can tell it does great things for you.”
“You know I can tell when you’re trying to hit on me, Rowan.” He said.
She made a face at him, like a sigh of relief. Her chest caved in a little as she pressed a palm against her sternum. “You just…” She said and waved her hand in front of him. “You just give off part good ole southern boy part nerdy guy from high school vibes, you know that?” She asked and he nodded. “Okay, as long as you’re aware, that’s really the thing you know.” Rowan said.
“I get it, ma’am.”
“Then there’s that. You gotta stop calling me ma’am. I’m younger than you.”
“You look barely out of college.” He said.
“I am barely out of college, compared to you.”
“So I’m old and I’m country and I’m a nerd.”
She leaned her head back against the booth and groaned a little bit. “Waller, I’m not trying to be insulting here. I can picture you painting Warhammer models. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, just that’s the vibe you give off.”
“Please tell me if I say yes to this that you’re not going to be part of whatever I’m doing.”
“That’s very hurtful.”
“If I give off that vibe,” he said, rising from the table and digging into his pocket for his wallet. He produced a few bills and placed them on the table before finishing his drink, “You’re like a little bird that just mocks me.”
“Like a mockingbird.”
“Like a harpy. Good night, Rowan.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh no you didn’t, mister.” She said, downing the rest of her wine and sliding out of the booth behind him. She must have been around five seven he realized, but she was closer to his height thanks to the heels she wore. “You did not just call me a harpy.” She hissed.
He tossed her a lazy smile. “It sure seems like I did, ma’am.” Waller made his way to the elevator and pressed the button, staring at the metal door as she stood next to him, staring daggers at him, arms folded over her chest.
David wasn’t sure if it was the still relatively little amount of alcohol he’d drank or the dress she was wearing, but Christ in heaven Rowan Chapman was looking amazing. He kept his focus on the elevator and walked in, pressing the button for his floor.
She waited for the door to close.
“You need to apologize.” She said.
“Why?”
“If we’re going to work together this is a terrible way to start off.” She said.
He countered, stealing a glance over at her. Still annoyed with him. “I haven’t said yes.”
“We both know you’re going to say yes, Waller.”
“We do?” He asked with enough nonchalance he was hoping would annoy her further. She’d been giving him shit all night, it felt good to be throwing some of it back at her.
He strode out of the elevator and down the hall to his room. He got to his door and she was right beside him. “Rowan.” He said, looking at the door.
“Waller.”
“Rowan.”
“Waller.”
He turned. “Here’s the thing. Unless you’re also staying in this fine establishment, I think you’re at the point where it could be construed as trespassing.”
“I’m a government agent. I’ll have you know that the director’s exact words were ‘Chapman, stick with him until he says yes,’ so there you go.”
He thought about that for a second. “So if I go in here, you’re going to follow me?”
“I’m duty bound and obligated by virtue of the oath I took to the United States government, Captain.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t sleep in the nude do you?”
“You gotta be the worst federal agent I’ve ever met.”
“How many have you met?”
“Enough of them.” He said. “I’m not saying yes, I’m saying I’ll think about it.” He said, swiping the keycard. He opened the door and stepped inside, turning quickly. Waller held a finger up. “If you try to follow me inside I will restrain you.”
She weighed her options. She had many choices available to her. She opened her mouth and he cut her off.
“If I wake up and you’re in there, I’m going to be pissed.” He said and thought about it. “If you follow me home, I will get MPs to lock you up.”
She closed her mouth.
“All I want is a ‘yes’, Captain.” She said.
“All you’re getting is an ‘I’ll think about it.’ “ He replied.
“Guess that’s going to have to be good enough.” She said. “But if you ever call me a harpy again, I’ll throttle you.”
He grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind, Agent Chapman.”
She smirked and punched him in the stomach lightly. “I’ll see you when I see you, Waller.” She said and started walking down the hallway.
He was watching her and she looked over her shoulder. “You can look at my ass, I know you’ve been thinking about it.”
“I’m rolling my eyes at you.” He said. “You can’t see it, but it’s happening.”
Rowan bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. “You’re still looking at it.”
“Only to make sure it isn’t coming back towards me.”
The door to the elevator opened and she stepped inside, turning.
They stared at each other as the doors closed.
“You wish.” She said.
In that moment…he kind of did.
KING OF STRONG STYLE
Posts: 18882
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
Rowan sat, curled up on the little outdoor chair she had as part of her balcony set up. The sun had begun to creep up over the Georgetown buildings. She was the proud owner of a small apartment. Two beds, two baths. Nothing fancy. Well, definitely nothing fancy for DC. She’d seen quite a few places that put her humble little abode to shame without batting a curtain.
Rowan had a warm cup of coffee sitting on a plate, with a croissant joining it. She pulled the dark blue silken robe a little bit tighter. There was still the night chill in the air, able to somewhat bite through the robe and the dark blue silk babydoll. She was reading through an Agatha Christie Poirot book, but her mind wasn’t on the career of the estimable Belgian. No, she was thinking of someone much closer to home, but just as interesting.
Part of her job, besides trying to convince Captain David Owen Waller to agree to the director’s plan, was to get a read on him. Of course, they had his psych profiles and other pieces of intelligence on him. But she had been there to get more up close and personal with him. Could he pick up the shield? Could he lead a team? Could he make hard choices? A combat record told you one thing. Talking to him was another thing.
She’d been flirting with him, intentionally. She had seen a change in his body language from the moment he’d seen her walking towards him. Then, she’d seen another shift when he’d realized why she had wanted to speak with him. Rowan had then turned the charm up, seeing if that was an avenue of attack.
In her short but somehow wildly extensive career in the CIA, she’d come across many a military or former military man. There weren’t that many archetypes for them to fall into. David, by her estimation, fell into a particular archetype she dearly loved.
The man who believed in what he was doing, had a clear cut personal drive, and wanted to accomplish a goal.
She reached out and picked up her croissant, taking a bite.
That kind of man could absolutely lead a team. He definitely could pick up the shield.
The question was whether he was willing to compromise his morals or his principles. Which was why flirting with him had been both business and pleasure. She ran a hand through her hair, smiling wistfully. Good God, he was good looking. She would have had no issue going into that room and doing whatever he asked. That was only a few hours ago, she’d still be in that room.
She was fairly certain she’d communicated that, through her tone of voice, her body language. She’d been sure to initiate physical contact as well. All to see what he would do.
He hadn’t disappointed her.
He’d turned her down. She could tell it wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to be with her. It was because he didn’t trust her and he didn’t know the lay of the land. He didn’t rush into things. He thought it all through.
Rowan remembered she was supposed to be reading her book as her phone buzzed, unsettling the spoon from where she’d rested it on the coffee saucer.
She didn’t need to look, she knew who it was.
She answered the director’s call and nodded as he spoke. Rising, she put the book down, and drained the coffee cup. There was a momentary pause for a curse as she realized she wasn’t going to be able to savor this ridiculously expensive coffee she splurged on. Such was life. Barefoot, she walked inside the apartment and into her closet, cradling the phone with her shoulder.
Time to get to work.
==--==
Walking into the meeting room in the satellite DC headquarters for the Agency, Rowan still held her partially finished croissant. She would drop things for the director, but not her croissant.
There were two people in the room already. One was a man, sitting at the table. Well, sitting wouldn’t be the best way to describe it.
He was lounging, that was how she would call it.
Though he was seated, she could tell he was tall. Taller than her by almost a foot if she had to guess. She was trying to remember why he looked familiar even though she was sure they’d never met before. Then she placed him. When the director had told her to make contact with Waller, she’d reviewed the footage from the meeting. This was the man who had been sitting behind Waller in the waiting room.
With a short crop haircut, a black bomber and a black t-shirt, he had an air of military, which wasn’t surprising. She could only guess he was wearing black jeans and black boots. Similar but not too different from her blue business suit with thin pinstripes. But apart from the uniformity in attire, she guessed they were not much alike.
Rowan could sense something was off, some kind of…something, under the surface. To her, he reminded her of a constrained bull, ready to shoot out. Her brow furrowed. Whoever he was, there had to be a reason he was here.
She didn’t need to look at the other person in the room. Rowan had recognized her while walking down the corridor. Her brow unfurrowed. Her mouth thinned in annoyance.
The woman was standing by a little table in a corner, mixing sugar into a coffee. She was wearing a much more colorful ensemble than either the man or Rowan. Light blues and yellows mixed together above the waist while below she was wearing green cargo pants that were relatively form fitting. There was jewelry on her hands, and two identical bracelets on each wrist. Her back was to the rest of the room.
“And how are we today, malen’kiy peresmeshnik?”
Rowan grimaced, but hid it as best she could. She was not going to play into the game. She was not. She was not. She was not.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
The blonde, also thanks to the wonders of hair coloring much like Rowan, turned, her eyes showing disapproval. “Now, now, when we talked last, you and I went over a few things, Rowan Amelia. Come now, show me you learned.” She said, her thick Russian accent shining through.
“I already know how to speak Russian.”
The woman sighed, giving her a look. “You learned textbook Russian. Not speaking Russian. The first thing I told you is you need to make it sing. It’s like poetry.”
“Dobroye utro.” Rowan said, forcing a smile that was all teeth.
The woman made a face as if Rowan had, right then in front of her, said something utterly disgusting. Or kicked her dog. Or dragged nails on a chalkboard. “No, no. It’s terrible. If I gave you Pushkin to read out loud, he would think you shot him and not d’Anthes.”
Rowan stared at her.
“Russian poet. Died in a duel, it’s not important.” She said and paused. “Well it is, but that’s not where we start with my culture.”
She looked past Rowan to see the director walking towards them.
“We’ll continue later, mladshaya sestra.”
“I am not your little sis-” Rowan said, further annoyed and patronized and other things she couldn’t put together, but she’d have to figure all that out later.
She took her seat at the long table, ignoring the bemused smile on the seated man’s face, as he’d watched the exchange.
The director sat down, across from the other man. The table was long and could seat ten on each side. The Russian woman sat three seats down on the man’s left. Rowan had sat two seats to the director’s left, keeping as much space between her and the Russian as she could. He looked at the two women in turn. “I hope you both are finished.” He said. He opened the folder he’d brought with him. “How did it go with Waller?” He asked.
“He didn’t say no.” Rowan said and the Russian snapped her fingers.
“I should have gone.” She said. “Rowan Amelia is good, but-”
“But nothing.” The director replied. “I’m not sending a Russian woman to recruit an American Army captain for an American operations unit.”
“Cold war has been over for ages.” The woman said. “We tore down the wall. You asked, we did.”
The director smiled.
Rowan glowered. How was this woman this charming all the time? Some of the time, maybe. But all the time?
“Not a no is not a yes.” The director said, snapping her back to where she was.
She coughed. “Well, that’s true, but I think he’s close to saying yes.” Rowan said.
The director, still looking down at the folder, raised his eyes above his glasses at the man across from him. “I guess it’s time to nudge him in the right direction, Holt.”
Eric Holt nodded. “Sounds about right.”
Rowan had a warm cup of coffee sitting on a plate, with a croissant joining it. She pulled the dark blue silken robe a little bit tighter. There was still the night chill in the air, able to somewhat bite through the robe and the dark blue silk babydoll. She was reading through an Agatha Christie Poirot book, but her mind wasn’t on the career of the estimable Belgian. No, she was thinking of someone much closer to home, but just as interesting.
Part of her job, besides trying to convince Captain David Owen Waller to agree to the director’s plan, was to get a read on him. Of course, they had his psych profiles and other pieces of intelligence on him. But she had been there to get more up close and personal with him. Could he pick up the shield? Could he lead a team? Could he make hard choices? A combat record told you one thing. Talking to him was another thing.
She’d been flirting with him, intentionally. She had seen a change in his body language from the moment he’d seen her walking towards him. Then, she’d seen another shift when he’d realized why she had wanted to speak with him. Rowan had then turned the charm up, seeing if that was an avenue of attack.
In her short but somehow wildly extensive career in the CIA, she’d come across many a military or former military man. There weren’t that many archetypes for them to fall into. David, by her estimation, fell into a particular archetype she dearly loved.
The man who believed in what he was doing, had a clear cut personal drive, and wanted to accomplish a goal.
She reached out and picked up her croissant, taking a bite.
That kind of man could absolutely lead a team. He definitely could pick up the shield.
The question was whether he was willing to compromise his morals or his principles. Which was why flirting with him had been both business and pleasure. She ran a hand through her hair, smiling wistfully. Good God, he was good looking. She would have had no issue going into that room and doing whatever he asked. That was only a few hours ago, she’d still be in that room.
She was fairly certain she’d communicated that, through her tone of voice, her body language. She’d been sure to initiate physical contact as well. All to see what he would do.
He hadn’t disappointed her.
He’d turned her down. She could tell it wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to be with her. It was because he didn’t trust her and he didn’t know the lay of the land. He didn’t rush into things. He thought it all through.
Rowan remembered she was supposed to be reading her book as her phone buzzed, unsettling the spoon from where she’d rested it on the coffee saucer.
She didn’t need to look, she knew who it was.
She answered the director’s call and nodded as he spoke. Rising, she put the book down, and drained the coffee cup. There was a momentary pause for a curse as she realized she wasn’t going to be able to savor this ridiculously expensive coffee she splurged on. Such was life. Barefoot, she walked inside the apartment and into her closet, cradling the phone with her shoulder.
Time to get to work.
==--==
Walking into the meeting room in the satellite DC headquarters for the Agency, Rowan still held her partially finished croissant. She would drop things for the director, but not her croissant.
There were two people in the room already. One was a man, sitting at the table. Well, sitting wouldn’t be the best way to describe it.
He was lounging, that was how she would call it.
Though he was seated, she could tell he was tall. Taller than her by almost a foot if she had to guess. She was trying to remember why he looked familiar even though she was sure they’d never met before. Then she placed him. When the director had told her to make contact with Waller, she’d reviewed the footage from the meeting. This was the man who had been sitting behind Waller in the waiting room.
With a short crop haircut, a black bomber and a black t-shirt, he had an air of military, which wasn’t surprising. She could only guess he was wearing black jeans and black boots. Similar but not too different from her blue business suit with thin pinstripes. But apart from the uniformity in attire, she guessed they were not much alike.
Rowan could sense something was off, some kind of…something, under the surface. To her, he reminded her of a constrained bull, ready to shoot out. Her brow furrowed. Whoever he was, there had to be a reason he was here.
She didn’t need to look at the other person in the room. Rowan had recognized her while walking down the corridor. Her brow unfurrowed. Her mouth thinned in annoyance.
The woman was standing by a little table in a corner, mixing sugar into a coffee. She was wearing a much more colorful ensemble than either the man or Rowan. Light blues and yellows mixed together above the waist while below she was wearing green cargo pants that were relatively form fitting. There was jewelry on her hands, and two identical bracelets on each wrist. Her back was to the rest of the room.
“And how are we today, malen’kiy peresmeshnik?”
Rowan grimaced, but hid it as best she could. She was not going to play into the game. She was not. She was not. She was not.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
The blonde, also thanks to the wonders of hair coloring much like Rowan, turned, her eyes showing disapproval. “Now, now, when we talked last, you and I went over a few things, Rowan Amelia. Come now, show me you learned.” She said, her thick Russian accent shining through.
“I already know how to speak Russian.”
The woman sighed, giving her a look. “You learned textbook Russian. Not speaking Russian. The first thing I told you is you need to make it sing. It’s like poetry.”
“Dobroye utro.” Rowan said, forcing a smile that was all teeth.
The woman made a face as if Rowan had, right then in front of her, said something utterly disgusting. Or kicked her dog. Or dragged nails on a chalkboard. “No, no. It’s terrible. If I gave you Pushkin to read out loud, he would think you shot him and not d’Anthes.”
Rowan stared at her.
“Russian poet. Died in a duel, it’s not important.” She said and paused. “Well it is, but that’s not where we start with my culture.”
She looked past Rowan to see the director walking towards them.
“We’ll continue later, mladshaya sestra.”
“I am not your little sis-” Rowan said, further annoyed and patronized and other things she couldn’t put together, but she’d have to figure all that out later.
She took her seat at the long table, ignoring the bemused smile on the seated man’s face, as he’d watched the exchange.
The director sat down, across from the other man. The table was long and could seat ten on each side. The Russian woman sat three seats down on the man’s left. Rowan had sat two seats to the director’s left, keeping as much space between her and the Russian as she could. He looked at the two women in turn. “I hope you both are finished.” He said. He opened the folder he’d brought with him. “How did it go with Waller?” He asked.
“He didn’t say no.” Rowan said and the Russian snapped her fingers.
“I should have gone.” She said. “Rowan Amelia is good, but-”
“But nothing.” The director replied. “I’m not sending a Russian woman to recruit an American Army captain for an American operations unit.”
“Cold war has been over for ages.” The woman said. “We tore down the wall. You asked, we did.”
The director smiled.
Rowan glowered. How was this woman this charming all the time? Some of the time, maybe. But all the time?
“Not a no is not a yes.” The director said, snapping her back to where she was.
She coughed. “Well, that’s true, but I think he’s close to saying yes.” Rowan said.
The director, still looking down at the folder, raised his eyes above his glasses at the man across from him. “I guess it’s time to nudge him in the right direction, Holt.”
Eric Holt nodded. “Sounds about right.”
KING OF STRONG STYLE
Posts: 18882
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
Rowan stood in the elevator, holding her folders close to her chest. She was trying to figure out what the Director and this Holt character had meant when they had discussed nudging Waller in the right direction. She wasn’t sure what they had been insinuating. Was Holt going to go speak with Waller? Maybe that made sense. He seemed as though he was military. She didn’t know who he was, but the last name was somewhat familiar. She’d heard it bandied about in the past.
Holt. Eric Holt. An exceptional marksman who had difficulty with missing a target. She’d read about aman who had made an incredibly difficult shot with the same last name. This could be him. So maybe the director wanted someone who was former military to speak with David. That made sense.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was definitely something else going on though. The way the director had spoken to Holt made it seem as though he wasn’t just dropping in to speak with David over dinner chow.
Her eyes were in front of her but she wasn’t paying too much attention to her surroundings. Rowan barely registered the Russian woman getting on the elevator with her.
“He’ll be fine.” She said and that was what snapped Rowan back to where she was.
“What do you mean?” She asked, as the elevator doors closed.
“Waller, he’ll be fine. Holt is surgical. He’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”
Rowan’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. What the hell was she talking about? “Surgical?” She asked and the other nodded.
“He won’t hit any vital organs or anything like that, ptichka.” She said. “Besides, why are you so concerned?”
Rowan finally put two and two together and her mind got her to four. “Wait, what is Holt going to do?” She asked, taking a step forward even though the elevator was already moving. She turned to the Russian woman.
“What Holt needs to do. Why are you so concerned?” She asked again. Her eyes widened. “You are attracted to this Waller.” She stated, more statement than question.
Rowan was quick to shake her head.
“No, I’m…He seems like a good person, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, that’s all.”
“I don’t even know what he looks like.” The Russian woman said and reached out, plucking the folder from Rowan. “Let’s see.” She said, turning as Rowan made a move for the folder. “Ah, ah, ptichka, I want to see who it is that has caught my little sister’s eye.” She said.
“I am not-”
“Oh my.” The woman said. “Now he is very good looking.” She said, handing the folder back to Rowan. There was a glimmer in her eye. “Were you hoping you were going to have to invite yourself into his room to get him to say yes.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Rowan said.
“Not if he was in the gutter.” The Russian woman reached up and tucked some loose strands of hair behind Rowan’s ear as the doors to the elevator opened. She stood in the doorway, keeping the elevator door open. She shot Rowan a little grin. “Don’t worry, mladshaya sestra, if your boyfriend does get recruited, I’ll keep my eyes off him.”
Rowan glared at the closing doors, internally screaming. She was going to beat the shit out of that Russian the next chance she got. But for now, she wanted to know what the hell Holt was going to do. She pressed a button on the elevator to head to the director’s office.
==-==
David Waller was back on base where he felt at home and comfortable. He had exchanged dress greens for his normal OCP uniform. The Captain sat in his office, going over a training exercise plan put together by his staff. Everything looked good and he could see a few minor changes that would need to be made. Overall, nothing too crazy. He was ready to switch over to take a look at the short list of people who had been at sick call while he had been in D.C.
There had been a nasty flu bug going around, but from what he’d been told on the phone during his flight back, it didn’t look as though it had hit his troop that hard.
He was in the process of scanning the sick call report when there was a knock on his door and he looked up. Immediately, he was on his feet, saluting the superior officer.
“LTC Hernandez.” He said.
“Relax, Waller.”
The LTC stepped into Waller’s office and gave a head nod at the chair Waller had vacated. “Sit down, sit down. I wanted to stop in and have a little chat.”
Waller sat back down as Hernandez looked at a map on the office wall. It delineated Teddy Roosevelt’s path during the Battle of San Juan Hill. For a few years, Teddy had called North Dakota, Waller’s home state, his own home.
Was it about his trip to DC? He had a feeling it could be.
Maybe Hernandez was going to counter offer but there really wasn’t, at this time, any upward mobility for Waller with JSOC. Which, to be honest, was fine with him. He was much more of an in the field kind of person versus a more hands off kind of person. Hernandez, he knew, thrived as a theater operations facilitator. He had seen enough of his time on the ground. Maybe Waller would get there one day, but that wasn’t this day.
He was much more comfortable with a rifle in his hands versus a pen that was for sure.
“We’ve been tasked with a special operation.” Hernandez said. “I need you and the boys ready to go in a few hours.” He said. “Details on the plane, but I can tell you the country is in LATAM.”
Waller nodded. “You need us, we’re there.”
“It could get ugly, it’ll be weapons hot, but shouldn’t be anything you all can’t handle.” Hernandez said. He extended a hand. “I don’t like putting you in harm’s way but…”
“That’s the nature of the beast.” Waller said, shaking his commanding officer’s hand. “You can count on the unit.”
==-==
Rowan walked into the director’s office and he gave her a look from where he was standing in the corner. He had been working with some kind of record player and took the needle off of the old blues record. “What can I do for you, Agent 19?” He asked.
“Sir, I know it’s not really my place, but what did you mean when you told Holt that Captain Waller needed a nudge in the right direction?” She asked.
“We tried the carrot. Now we try the stick.” He said.
She stared at him. “That’s not really that clear at all.”
He smiled, opening his arms. “That’s the CIA. Now, I didn’t expect you to be able to convince him. I thought maybe you could and it was worth a shot. But I also wanted to see what kind of a man Waller was and he passed the test. He could have let you seduce him, but that’s not what he’s after. He wants more. I want to offer him more. He simply doesn’t realize what the offer was.”
“That’s all fine, but what is Holt going to do?” She asked.
The director sighed. “I gave actionable intelligence concerning a drug smuggling ring in Colombia to JSOC. I asked them to task a unit to infiltrate and subdue the ring. We’ve received permission, under the table of course, from the Colombian government for this operation.”
“How are you sure that Waller’s unit would get tasked?”
“JSOC and Delta, they work on rotating schedules. I purposely sent the invite to David when I knew his unit’s number would be coming up. Operational readiness and all that. I just needed to make a subtle request, that’s all.” He said, sitting down at the desk. “Listen, Agent Chapman, I appreciate your concern for Captain Waller, I do. But I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”
“Not when you still want to recruit him, you mean.” She said, evenly.
“I thought that was obvious.” He retorted. “Chapman, we’re always on a delicate balance. On the edge of the knife, dancing our lives away while we spin plates on sticks. You know what I know, the world is not a safe place unless there are safeguards in place.” He held up Waller’s file and she saw the Captain’s photo paperclipped on the front. “This man offers us an amazing chance to do great work. It would be a disservice to the people of this country and the rest of the world if we did not put him in the field. His current refusal is because he doesn’t understand the bigger picture. Holt is going to change that.” He said.
“How?” Rowan asked, ultimately repeating the question they both knew the director was dancing around, to continue his imagery.
“Holt is one of the best snipers on the planet. I’ve never seen him miss. If he has, I’d be shocked. He’s going to do what he does best.”
“I want to be there.”
He smiled. “Camaraderie on the team already, I love it.” He said, and dropped the folder, reaching out to pick up the phone on his desk. He pressed a button and waited. “Agent 19 will be accompanying Holt.” He said, keeping eye contact with Rowan. “Make sure there’s a spot for her.” He placed the phone back on the receiver.
She waited a moment. “Is Holt going to kill U.S. citizens, U.S. service members in order to make sure Waller wants to join the CIA?” She asked, deciding it was time to go the straight blunt route.
“No. He knows his orders.” The director said.
She nodded and turned to leave.
“Rowan.” He said. He rarely used her first name, causing her to turn back. “I understand from our Russian friend that you may have developed feelings for Captain Waller.”
She faltered.
“That’s fine.” He said. “I don’t care. But we both know that a time will come where I may ask you to something you’re not comfortable with. I need to know where your loyalties lie.”
“With the Agency.”
“Good luck.” He said and she left.
He waited a few moments, hand still on the receiver. He lifted it and pressed a different button.
“Noah, Chapman’s in the field.” He said. He smiled. “Waller and Chapman are going to make a great team.” He said, nodding. “I completely agree.”
Holt. Eric Holt. An exceptional marksman who had difficulty with missing a target. She’d read about aman who had made an incredibly difficult shot with the same last name. This could be him. So maybe the director wanted someone who was former military to speak with David. That made sense.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was definitely something else going on though. The way the director had spoken to Holt made it seem as though he wasn’t just dropping in to speak with David over dinner chow.
Her eyes were in front of her but she wasn’t paying too much attention to her surroundings. Rowan barely registered the Russian woman getting on the elevator with her.
“He’ll be fine.” She said and that was what snapped Rowan back to where she was.
“What do you mean?” She asked, as the elevator doors closed.
“Waller, he’ll be fine. Holt is surgical. He’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”
Rowan’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. What the hell was she talking about? “Surgical?” She asked and the other nodded.
“He won’t hit any vital organs or anything like that, ptichka.” She said. “Besides, why are you so concerned?”
Rowan finally put two and two together and her mind got her to four. “Wait, what is Holt going to do?” She asked, taking a step forward even though the elevator was already moving. She turned to the Russian woman.
“What Holt needs to do. Why are you so concerned?” She asked again. Her eyes widened. “You are attracted to this Waller.” She stated, more statement than question.
Rowan was quick to shake her head.
“No, I’m…He seems like a good person, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, that’s all.”
“I don’t even know what he looks like.” The Russian woman said and reached out, plucking the folder from Rowan. “Let’s see.” She said, turning as Rowan made a move for the folder. “Ah, ah, ptichka, I want to see who it is that has caught my little sister’s eye.” She said.
“I am not-”
“Oh my.” The woman said. “Now he is very good looking.” She said, handing the folder back to Rowan. There was a glimmer in her eye. “Were you hoping you were going to have to invite yourself into his room to get him to say yes.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Rowan said.
“Not if he was in the gutter.” The Russian woman reached up and tucked some loose strands of hair behind Rowan’s ear as the doors to the elevator opened. She stood in the doorway, keeping the elevator door open. She shot Rowan a little grin. “Don’t worry, mladshaya sestra, if your boyfriend does get recruited, I’ll keep my eyes off him.”
Rowan glared at the closing doors, internally screaming. She was going to beat the shit out of that Russian the next chance she got. But for now, she wanted to know what the hell Holt was going to do. She pressed a button on the elevator to head to the director’s office.
==-==
David Waller was back on base where he felt at home and comfortable. He had exchanged dress greens for his normal OCP uniform. The Captain sat in his office, going over a training exercise plan put together by his staff. Everything looked good and he could see a few minor changes that would need to be made. Overall, nothing too crazy. He was ready to switch over to take a look at the short list of people who had been at sick call while he had been in D.C.
There had been a nasty flu bug going around, but from what he’d been told on the phone during his flight back, it didn’t look as though it had hit his troop that hard.
He was in the process of scanning the sick call report when there was a knock on his door and he looked up. Immediately, he was on his feet, saluting the superior officer.
“LTC Hernandez.” He said.
“Relax, Waller.”
The LTC stepped into Waller’s office and gave a head nod at the chair Waller had vacated. “Sit down, sit down. I wanted to stop in and have a little chat.”
Waller sat back down as Hernandez looked at a map on the office wall. It delineated Teddy Roosevelt’s path during the Battle of San Juan Hill. For a few years, Teddy had called North Dakota, Waller’s home state, his own home.
Was it about his trip to DC? He had a feeling it could be.
Maybe Hernandez was going to counter offer but there really wasn’t, at this time, any upward mobility for Waller with JSOC. Which, to be honest, was fine with him. He was much more of an in the field kind of person versus a more hands off kind of person. Hernandez, he knew, thrived as a theater operations facilitator. He had seen enough of his time on the ground. Maybe Waller would get there one day, but that wasn’t this day.
He was much more comfortable with a rifle in his hands versus a pen that was for sure.
“We’ve been tasked with a special operation.” Hernandez said. “I need you and the boys ready to go in a few hours.” He said. “Details on the plane, but I can tell you the country is in LATAM.”
Waller nodded. “You need us, we’re there.”
“It could get ugly, it’ll be weapons hot, but shouldn’t be anything you all can’t handle.” Hernandez said. He extended a hand. “I don’t like putting you in harm’s way but…”
“That’s the nature of the beast.” Waller said, shaking his commanding officer’s hand. “You can count on the unit.”
==-==
Rowan walked into the director’s office and he gave her a look from where he was standing in the corner. He had been working with some kind of record player and took the needle off of the old blues record. “What can I do for you, Agent 19?” He asked.
“Sir, I know it’s not really my place, but what did you mean when you told Holt that Captain Waller needed a nudge in the right direction?” She asked.
“We tried the carrot. Now we try the stick.” He said.
She stared at him. “That’s not really that clear at all.”
He smiled, opening his arms. “That’s the CIA. Now, I didn’t expect you to be able to convince him. I thought maybe you could and it was worth a shot. But I also wanted to see what kind of a man Waller was and he passed the test. He could have let you seduce him, but that’s not what he’s after. He wants more. I want to offer him more. He simply doesn’t realize what the offer was.”
“That’s all fine, but what is Holt going to do?” She asked.
The director sighed. “I gave actionable intelligence concerning a drug smuggling ring in Colombia to JSOC. I asked them to task a unit to infiltrate and subdue the ring. We’ve received permission, under the table of course, from the Colombian government for this operation.”
“How are you sure that Waller’s unit would get tasked?”
“JSOC and Delta, they work on rotating schedules. I purposely sent the invite to David when I knew his unit’s number would be coming up. Operational readiness and all that. I just needed to make a subtle request, that’s all.” He said, sitting down at the desk. “Listen, Agent Chapman, I appreciate your concern for Captain Waller, I do. But I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”
“Not when you still want to recruit him, you mean.” She said, evenly.
“I thought that was obvious.” He retorted. “Chapman, we’re always on a delicate balance. On the edge of the knife, dancing our lives away while we spin plates on sticks. You know what I know, the world is not a safe place unless there are safeguards in place.” He held up Waller’s file and she saw the Captain’s photo paperclipped on the front. “This man offers us an amazing chance to do great work. It would be a disservice to the people of this country and the rest of the world if we did not put him in the field. His current refusal is because he doesn’t understand the bigger picture. Holt is going to change that.” He said.
“How?” Rowan asked, ultimately repeating the question they both knew the director was dancing around, to continue his imagery.
“Holt is one of the best snipers on the planet. I’ve never seen him miss. If he has, I’d be shocked. He’s going to do what he does best.”
“I want to be there.”
He smiled. “Camaraderie on the team already, I love it.” He said, and dropped the folder, reaching out to pick up the phone on his desk. He pressed a button and waited. “Agent 19 will be accompanying Holt.” He said, keeping eye contact with Rowan. “Make sure there’s a spot for her.” He placed the phone back on the receiver.
She waited a moment. “Is Holt going to kill U.S. citizens, U.S. service members in order to make sure Waller wants to join the CIA?” She asked, deciding it was time to go the straight blunt route.
“No. He knows his orders.” The director said.
She nodded and turned to leave.
“Rowan.” He said. He rarely used her first name, causing her to turn back. “I understand from our Russian friend that you may have developed feelings for Captain Waller.”
She faltered.
“That’s fine.” He said. “I don’t care. But we both know that a time will come where I may ask you to something you’re not comfortable with. I need to know where your loyalties lie.”
“With the Agency.”
“Good luck.” He said and she left.
He waited a few moments, hand still on the receiver. He lifted it and pressed a different button.
“Noah, Chapman’s in the field.” He said. He smiled. “Waller and Chapman are going to make a great team.” He said, nodding. “I completely agree.”
KING OF STRONG STYLE
Posts: 18882
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
Waller was back in his small house. Located just outside of Fort Bragg, recently renamed to Fort Liberty, his house was quite modest. He wasn’t there that often, so he hadn’t invested much into creature comforts. Additionally, there wasn’t much that he needed by way of those comforts. It seemed to suit him well. He had a duffel bag and he was tossing a few things in it. The bug out bag he normally kept near the door had most of the things he would need. However, Hernandez had mentioned a country in Latin America. So he wouldn’t need any snivel gear.
Throwing the duffel bag over his back, he was walking to the front door to grab the bug out bag when his phone buzzed. Digging into his pocket, he pulled it out to see who had sent a text.
Whatcha up to?
He stared at the phone. Who the hell was RC?
Waller sighed, realizing who it was. He grabbed the bag and headed out to his car, throwing them in the backseat as he texted her back.
How the hell did you put your number in my phone?
I don’t know why you’re bothering with such silly questions, Cap’n.
He started the car and started driving, unable to help himself from smiling. While an unwanted distraction from the task at hand, there was something endearing about Rowan finding a way to put her number in his phone. Endearing but also a reminder of who she was. Also, rather creepy.
I’m blocking you.
That’s not very nice..
I’m in the middle of something.
Deets.
Classified.
I’ve got TS clearance.
He rolled his eyes as he waited at the stoplight. Putting the phone down, he went back to driving, leaving her on read until he was back on base.
I’m headed out for a few days. Please delete my number.
You’re going to miss the Falcons lose to the Niners. Though that may be reason to leave the country, I suppose.
It was almost enough to earn another eye roll.
Her next text came through before he could respond.
Be safe.
He told her he would and put the phone away as he walked into the unit’s ready room.
It wouldn’t be for a few more hours, when he was on board a C-130 and without phone service that he realized he hadn’t told her he was leaving the country.
==-==
“Talking to your boyfriend?”
“I’m single.” Rowan said, giving the man sitting next to her a look.
“Sure, but you’re checking your phone every few minutes.” Eric Holt replied. His eyes were closed but apparently he could see through his eyelids.
They were seated on a flight currently traveling at high speeds, thanks to Agency technology towards Argentina. They would get there far faster than Waller and his team. The jet was cloaked and with the speed they were going at, she was amazed she could drink from the bottle of water, without issue. You’d think the whole contraption would be shaking and rattling in order to reach those speeds. Rowan adjusted the Panthers cap she was wearing as she moved over in the seat. Though they weren’t close together, it still made sense to get further away from Holt.
There was just something about him.
It wasn’t that he was creepy or anything, something just felt off.
“What’s your story?” She asked, putting the phone away and deciding she might as well engage in some kind of conversation with him. Maybe figure out what was wrong with him and see how she could deal with it.
“My story?” He asked, his eyes still closed.
“Everyone’s got one.” She replied.
“I’m Canadian.”
She tried to stifle a laugh and failed.
Now his eyes opened and shifted towards her.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s so funny about that?” He asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” Rowan replied, holding a hand up. “You just don’t seem like you’re Canadian.”
“Why?” He asked, evenly.
She shrugged, trying to find a way to put it nicely. Then she decided what the hell, might as well rip the bandaid off. “You seem like you’re comfortable watching weird videos on YouTube.” When Holt rewarded her words with a grin, she tried to explain further. “What I mean by that, and I mean it nicely and respectfully, is that you seem like you’re not watching cute beaver videos. Maybe it’s a little bit closer to violent stuff.”
“You realize we kill people for a living.”
She nodded. “That’s correct, but I don’t watch that stuff in my down time. Also, I try to kill as few people as I absolutely need to.” Rowan said. Her fingers itched, as her mind forced her to flash back to the first time she had done something like that. The back of her neck prickled next.
Holt sat forward and then turned towards her. “I don’t watch that kind of stuff.” He said. “I watch anthill castings and woodworking videos.”
“So mass murder.”
Holt laughed as he got up and walked to the small minifridge in the cabin. On top of the fridge was a small selection of alcohol and he inspected the collection.
“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol won’t help Holt.” Rowan said.
Eric turned, holding up a bottle of Maker’s Mark. She shook her head and he twisted the top off of the bottle, bringing a glass back with him. He poured a healthy few fingers of the amber liquid and tossed it back without a problem. “I am so surprised that this quirky girl next door routine didn’t work on Waller.” He said.
“I’m not trying to convince you to do something.” She replied. “But thank you for calling me quirky.”
“So you’re like this all the time?” Holt asked, pouring another drink.
“Full of life?” She asked and he shrugged. “Anyway, besides being the weirdest Canadian I’ve met, what’s the story?” Rowan asked.
“Nothing.” He said. “I grew up in the middle of nowhere in Canada. Eventually, I joined the Canadian military. Top marks as a sharpshooter. Did a few things hand in hand with the US military and got recruited.” Eric said. “Not everything has to be that deep, Rowan.” He said, finishing the drink.
“You sure you should be drinking before you’re going to be handling firearms?” She asked, eyeing the bottle.
“Waller will be safe.” Holt replied, stretching out and closing his eyes again. “He’s a big boy.”
Throwing the duffel bag over his back, he was walking to the front door to grab the bug out bag when his phone buzzed. Digging into his pocket, he pulled it out to see who had sent a text.
Whatcha up to?
He stared at the phone. Who the hell was RC?
Waller sighed, realizing who it was. He grabbed the bag and headed out to his car, throwing them in the backseat as he texted her back.
How the hell did you put your number in my phone?
I don’t know why you’re bothering with such silly questions, Cap’n.
He started the car and started driving, unable to help himself from smiling. While an unwanted distraction from the task at hand, there was something endearing about Rowan finding a way to put her number in his phone. Endearing but also a reminder of who she was. Also, rather creepy.
I’m blocking you.
That’s not very nice..
I’m in the middle of something.
Deets.
Classified.
I’ve got TS clearance.
He rolled his eyes as he waited at the stoplight. Putting the phone down, he went back to driving, leaving her on read until he was back on base.
I’m headed out for a few days. Please delete my number.
You’re going to miss the Falcons lose to the Niners. Though that may be reason to leave the country, I suppose.
It was almost enough to earn another eye roll.
Her next text came through before he could respond.
Be safe.
He told her he would and put the phone away as he walked into the unit’s ready room.
It wouldn’t be for a few more hours, when he was on board a C-130 and without phone service that he realized he hadn’t told her he was leaving the country.
==-==
“Talking to your boyfriend?”
“I’m single.” Rowan said, giving the man sitting next to her a look.
“Sure, but you’re checking your phone every few minutes.” Eric Holt replied. His eyes were closed but apparently he could see through his eyelids.
They were seated on a flight currently traveling at high speeds, thanks to Agency technology towards Argentina. They would get there far faster than Waller and his team. The jet was cloaked and with the speed they were going at, she was amazed she could drink from the bottle of water, without issue. You’d think the whole contraption would be shaking and rattling in order to reach those speeds. Rowan adjusted the Panthers cap she was wearing as she moved over in the seat. Though they weren’t close together, it still made sense to get further away from Holt.
There was just something about him.
It wasn’t that he was creepy or anything, something just felt off.
“What’s your story?” She asked, putting the phone away and deciding she might as well engage in some kind of conversation with him. Maybe figure out what was wrong with him and see how she could deal with it.
“My story?” He asked, his eyes still closed.
“Everyone’s got one.” She replied.
“I’m Canadian.”
She tried to stifle a laugh and failed.
Now his eyes opened and shifted towards her.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s so funny about that?” He asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” Rowan replied, holding a hand up. “You just don’t seem like you’re Canadian.”
“Why?” He asked, evenly.
She shrugged, trying to find a way to put it nicely. Then she decided what the hell, might as well rip the bandaid off. “You seem like you’re comfortable watching weird videos on YouTube.” When Holt rewarded her words with a grin, she tried to explain further. “What I mean by that, and I mean it nicely and respectfully, is that you seem like you’re not watching cute beaver videos. Maybe it’s a little bit closer to violent stuff.”
“You realize we kill people for a living.”
She nodded. “That’s correct, but I don’t watch that stuff in my down time. Also, I try to kill as few people as I absolutely need to.” Rowan said. Her fingers itched, as her mind forced her to flash back to the first time she had done something like that. The back of her neck prickled next.
Holt sat forward and then turned towards her. “I don’t watch that kind of stuff.” He said. “I watch anthill castings and woodworking videos.”
“So mass murder.”
Holt laughed as he got up and walked to the small minifridge in the cabin. On top of the fridge was a small selection of alcohol and he inspected the collection.
“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol won’t help Holt.” Rowan said.
Eric turned, holding up a bottle of Maker’s Mark. She shook her head and he twisted the top off of the bottle, bringing a glass back with him. He poured a healthy few fingers of the amber liquid and tossed it back without a problem. “I am so surprised that this quirky girl next door routine didn’t work on Waller.” He said.
“I’m not trying to convince you to do something.” She replied. “But thank you for calling me quirky.”
“So you’re like this all the time?” Holt asked, pouring another drink.
“Full of life?” She asked and he shrugged. “Anyway, besides being the weirdest Canadian I’ve met, what’s the story?” Rowan asked.
“Nothing.” He said. “I grew up in the middle of nowhere in Canada. Eventually, I joined the Canadian military. Top marks as a sharpshooter. Did a few things hand in hand with the US military and got recruited.” Eric said. “Not everything has to be that deep, Rowan.” He said, finishing the drink.
“You sure you should be drinking before you’re going to be handling firearms?” She asked, eyeing the bottle.
“Waller will be safe.” Holt replied, stretching out and closing his eyes again. “He’s a big boy.”
KING OF STRONG STYLE
Posts: 18882
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm
Re: Stars and Stripes Forever
Waller brushed some unseen dirt off his FN SCAR. He looked at the rest of the section of the Unit with him. There were two other Blackhawks carrying the rest of the team. The briefing for the mission had been, rather brief, no pun intended. There was a HPI in Colombia connected to a drug cartel. They had received actionable intelligence from the DEA and the CIA working in conjunction with the State Department. Their goal was to do a little disruption and take out the person. Waller leaned back in the seat of the Blackhawk and closed his eyes.
Lord, I ask for your protection today. Not for myself, but to allow me to keep my men alive. They have families. They have children. Please, send us your angels, send us your protection. Let me keep these men alive.
He recited the prayer he had written up when he first took command of a unit, some years ago. He had the unfortunate honor of having to lead men into harm’s way. Waller was a religious man, as far as a non-denominational faith in God went. He had long ago made peace with the idea of dying in combat. He didn’t have a wife or kids. His mother would be sad, but she understood what he was doing and why he was doing it.
No, the one thing that would bother him if he ever died on the field of combat was if he died without ensuring his men were safe. He’d probably have a few arguments with God if that were the case. The primary obligation, as far as he was concerned, was keeping his men alive. Obviously, they needed to complete the mission, but that didn’t mean going in guns blazing.
“Sir, we’re in the field.”
His eyes opened as he heard the words from the Blackhawk pilot over the comms.
They were in the fight now.
Waller looked at his GPS system. They weren’t too far out.
==-==
Rowan lifted the Panthers ball cap off of her head and flexed the curved bill as she sat in the TOC of the CIA substation in Bogota. She had booted feet up on a folding table, a bottle of water in front of her. Had to stay hydrated. She also had a laptop on the table, open. The intel they had on the area was on the screen, along with the estimated forces on the ground. In front of her on the walls were panels of monitors and she was watching in real time the events unfolding in the Vaupes Department of Colombia.
David’s team had landed in Brazil and was entering Colombian airspace from the east. Three green triangles on the screens represented the three Blackhawk helicopters. Meanwhile, a blue dot represented Holt, who was in a small technological wonder of a hover vehicle. He was already in position, near the site that David’s team was hitting.
She looked around for a coffee machine but figured it was good she couldn’t find one. The caffeine probably would not be good for her system. On the surface, she was calm and collected. On the inside, she was nervous.
On the one hand, she knew David’s team would be safe. They were highly trained and they were the best of the best when it came to the US military. You didn’t become part of Delta Force unless you knew what you were doing. At the same time, she fully understood that no plan survives contact with the enemy. Further, she didn’t know how much she trusted the Director or Holt.
“Holt, come in.”
“I’m a little busy, princess.” He said back over the comms.
She glowered at the sat phone in her hands. “Stop being an asshole.”
“How else do I keep up this belief of yours I’m the most uncanadian Canadian?”
“You know, it should be your intention to dissuade me from that notion.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She looked over at one of the screens in the room, as some of the CIA techs in the room worked on keeping track of everything. “David’s unit is in Colombian airspace.” She said.
“That’s good to know. I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m not sure who would have told me that otherwise.”
“Eric, sweetie, I want to ask you a question.” Rowan said. “Assuming you’re good at your job and the Director is right and David joins the team, we would all be working together right?”
“Sure.”
“If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be smarter to be nicer to me?” She asked.
There was a pause.
“You have nice hair.”
She stared at the sat phone. He’d actually given her a compliment.
“That means a lot.”
“The Panthers suck though.” He said.
“Canadians don’t know anything about football, I don’t blame your ignorance.”
She was going to say something further but he interrupted her.
“Hold on a second.” He said. “Didn’t the intel say that the little camp they were hitting wasn’t that well equipped?” He asked.
She frowned and swung her legs off the table. Scrolling through the screens she pulled up the satellite map of the compound if it could be called that. It really wasn’t. It was a tiny little camp hollowed out of part of the Amazon rainforest that was within Colombian borders. “There’s not supposed to be much. Why?”
“They’ve got rocket launchers.”
==-==
From his position, Eric could see the camp. He was a little bit higher up, on a slight ridge poking up out of the ground despite the swampy rainforest. There had been a sentry up there, but he hadn’t given Eric too much trouble. He could see down into the camp and he knew they did not, in fact, have any rocket launchers. Sliding out of the hovercraft, he went to the back and opened the trunk. He pulled out a long rectangular box and opened it.
“What do you mean they have rocket launchers?” Rowan said over the comms.
“I’m looking at a rocket launcher right now.”
Inside the long box, was a rocket launcher. He technically wasn’t lying.
He pulled it out and loaded it, lifting it to his shoulder. The thing was a special Sapphire Development design. It had longer distance in exchange for a lesser payload. But he wouldn’t need much, he just needed to get a hit.
Luckily, he also hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d told Rowan he had been a good marksman.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Rowan.” He said and tossed the sat phone to the ground, missing her reply.
He smiled.
“Welcome to the team, Captain Waller.” He said, aiming…and firing.
Lord, I ask for your protection today. Not for myself, but to allow me to keep my men alive. They have families. They have children. Please, send us your angels, send us your protection. Let me keep these men alive.
He recited the prayer he had written up when he first took command of a unit, some years ago. He had the unfortunate honor of having to lead men into harm’s way. Waller was a religious man, as far as a non-denominational faith in God went. He had long ago made peace with the idea of dying in combat. He didn’t have a wife or kids. His mother would be sad, but she understood what he was doing and why he was doing it.
No, the one thing that would bother him if he ever died on the field of combat was if he died without ensuring his men were safe. He’d probably have a few arguments with God if that were the case. The primary obligation, as far as he was concerned, was keeping his men alive. Obviously, they needed to complete the mission, but that didn’t mean going in guns blazing.
“Sir, we’re in the field.”
His eyes opened as he heard the words from the Blackhawk pilot over the comms.
They were in the fight now.
Waller looked at his GPS system. They weren’t too far out.
==-==
Rowan lifted the Panthers ball cap off of her head and flexed the curved bill as she sat in the TOC of the CIA substation in Bogota. She had booted feet up on a folding table, a bottle of water in front of her. Had to stay hydrated. She also had a laptop on the table, open. The intel they had on the area was on the screen, along with the estimated forces on the ground. In front of her on the walls were panels of monitors and she was watching in real time the events unfolding in the Vaupes Department of Colombia.
David’s team had landed in Brazil and was entering Colombian airspace from the east. Three green triangles on the screens represented the three Blackhawk helicopters. Meanwhile, a blue dot represented Holt, who was in a small technological wonder of a hover vehicle. He was already in position, near the site that David’s team was hitting.
She looked around for a coffee machine but figured it was good she couldn’t find one. The caffeine probably would not be good for her system. On the surface, she was calm and collected. On the inside, she was nervous.
On the one hand, she knew David’s team would be safe. They were highly trained and they were the best of the best when it came to the US military. You didn’t become part of Delta Force unless you knew what you were doing. At the same time, she fully understood that no plan survives contact with the enemy. Further, she didn’t know how much she trusted the Director or Holt.
“Holt, come in.”
“I’m a little busy, princess.” He said back over the comms.
She glowered at the sat phone in her hands. “Stop being an asshole.”
“How else do I keep up this belief of yours I’m the most uncanadian Canadian?”
“You know, it should be your intention to dissuade me from that notion.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She looked over at one of the screens in the room, as some of the CIA techs in the room worked on keeping track of everything. “David’s unit is in Colombian airspace.” She said.
“That’s good to know. I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m not sure who would have told me that otherwise.”
“Eric, sweetie, I want to ask you a question.” Rowan said. “Assuming you’re good at your job and the Director is right and David joins the team, we would all be working together right?”
“Sure.”
“If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be smarter to be nicer to me?” She asked.
There was a pause.
“You have nice hair.”
She stared at the sat phone. He’d actually given her a compliment.
“That means a lot.”
“The Panthers suck though.” He said.
“Canadians don’t know anything about football, I don’t blame your ignorance.”
She was going to say something further but he interrupted her.
“Hold on a second.” He said. “Didn’t the intel say that the little camp they were hitting wasn’t that well equipped?” He asked.
She frowned and swung her legs off the table. Scrolling through the screens she pulled up the satellite map of the compound if it could be called that. It really wasn’t. It was a tiny little camp hollowed out of part of the Amazon rainforest that was within Colombian borders. “There’s not supposed to be much. Why?”
“They’ve got rocket launchers.”
==-==
From his position, Eric could see the camp. He was a little bit higher up, on a slight ridge poking up out of the ground despite the swampy rainforest. There had been a sentry up there, but he hadn’t given Eric too much trouble. He could see down into the camp and he knew they did not, in fact, have any rocket launchers. Sliding out of the hovercraft, he went to the back and opened the trunk. He pulled out a long rectangular box and opened it.
“What do you mean they have rocket launchers?” Rowan said over the comms.
“I’m looking at a rocket launcher right now.”
Inside the long box, was a rocket launcher. He technically wasn’t lying.
He pulled it out and loaded it, lifting it to his shoulder. The thing was a special Sapphire Development design. It had longer distance in exchange for a lesser payload. But he wouldn’t need much, he just needed to get a hit.
Luckily, he also hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d told Rowan he had been a good marksman.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Rowan.” He said and tossed the sat phone to the ground, missing her reply.
He smiled.
“Welcome to the team, Captain Waller.” He said, aiming…and firing.
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