Know Your Role

The rain still wasn’t letting up. Even as the Lancer pulled into the parking lot, the ground was still slick. Puddles were everywhere. Cliff recognized the noodle shop from when they first got here. It had been almost a whole week since then, but it still felt like they only just got here. Susan shut the car off, and the three of them went into the basement of the shop once again.

“Any real reason why you decided to operate out from under a noodle shop, bosslady?" Cliff asked.

She thought it over for a moment before telling him, “I really like ramen.”

“Come on,” Cliff rebuked her, “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

“You’re catching on. The owners were assets and made it to retirement. We cut them a deal. They let us use the basement, and they keep us informed in passing. In exchange we keep their dream in business. Old ties run deep.”

“I guess so.”

“Speaking of old ties, just wait til you see what I got for you two.”

Cliff and Sable shared a look before following her into her operations room. It had a lot more red yarn and photos on the board than before.

“Now, naturally, we wanted to wait a little longer to break these out. In fact, they were merely an “in case of emergency” idea. But it’s better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.”

Susan brought out two large trunks.

“How’d you even get that past airport security?” Sable asked.

“Learned a lot in my Air America days, let’s just keep it at that. Merry Christmas, you two.”

Susan kicked the trunks across the floor with a force that betrayed her stature, sliding them across the floor to the pair. They looked entirely plain, like a normal travel trunk. Of course, it was more what was inside that was special. Cliff opened his up and whistled. A nice new solid olive drab uniform greeted him. He dug it out and noted it had the flag of the Holy See on the shoulder. There was also a patrol cap and it, like the uniform, was just his size. He noticed the collar was wrong for a battle dress uniform though.

“What’s with the collar?”

“It’s been modified to fit your clerical collars. Consider this your tryout for His Holiness’s personal problem solvers.”

Cliff smirked and grabbed up the uniform. There was indeed a clerical collar underneath it all.

“The upstairs is unoccupied. The owners have locked up and gone home, so you can change there.”

“Got it.”

Cliff quickly headed up the stairs, leaving Susan and Sable to themselves. Sable took her turn to open her trunk.

“Well, go ahead and put it on.”

“I mean…if you insist.”

She ducked around the corner with the clothes and came back out once she was done. She walked out and twirled left and right. A pair of black BDU pants and a black turtleneck sweater made her look almost invisible in the shadow. There was a pentacle on a patch sewn onto the shoulders with black and white outlining circles around it. The mark of the Sisters of the Eclipse. She also had a black cloak that came down to the back of her knees. A small hat adorned her head. It was pointy, but nothing like the cartoonishly big witch hats. No, this was much more subtle.

Cliff came down the stairs in his uniform. Susan ogled him, noting how natural he looked in a military uniform. Cliff coughed into his hand.

“You’re staring,” he told her.

“Yeah,” Susan said, smiling ear-to-ear, “I know.”

She stood up and handed over a pair of harnesses. Cliff put his on. It was an LBV-88 with an accompanying ALICE belt setup for M16 magazine pouches.

“Bet this takes you back, doesn’t it?” Susan said.

“It kinda does…”

He looked over his gear as he slipped the LBV over his shoulders and clipped the belt in front of him. The woodland camouflage accented his OD uniform nicely. There were two magazine pouches on the belt in front, a pistol mag pouch, a canteen, a bayonet in a scabbard, and an M-12 holster. He noticed immediately that the pouches were all full. He was fully geared up from the get-go, but he waited patiently for something to use all this ammo with.

He looked to Sable and watched her don a leather harness that Susan handed her. It had a pistol holster on the left side and ammunition pouches on the right. There was also a belt full of pouches for little things that she might need, and a knife sheathed on it. She drew it and both of them noticed how it gleamed in the light. Cliff pulled his bayonet out and saw the same thing.

“Pure. Silver. Blades.” Susan told them.

“God bless America…” Cliff said, marveling at the bladework.

“That’s not all.” Susan said as she brought out a few cases. They were small, so she handed them to both Cliff and Sable at the same time. Cliff popped his open. A Beretta 92FS with wood grips emblazoned with the Cross and the word “SERVIAM” underneath it. He checked the weapon to make sure that it was unloaded, and then grabbed the magazine that was inside the case. He noticed something peculiar about the bullets inside it, but said nothing yet.

Sable opened her case and looked. A Colt M1911 lay inside of hers. It had grips made of rowan wood with a pentacle branded into them. The metal was blued, not parkerized. As she picked it up, Cliff noticed she reacted to it. The weapon seemed to hum in her palm. Her mind was abuzz with a soft murmur. Holding this pistol gave her a sort of connection to something. She felt as if the weapon knew her before she had ever seen it. It too was empty, and she pulled the magazine from the case and noticed that the bullets were, like Cliff’s, not ordinary.

“The boys at Aberdeen were cooking a lot of things up during the last big war. Supernatural warfare has become a big focus for America’s special forces, so naturally the CIA wanted in. What we have here for you are silver-jacketed hollowpoint rounds.”

“That’s not right, though,” Cliff said, looking over the nine millimeter at the top of the magazine stack, “It’s almost like there’s something inside the hollow nose.”

“Very astute, Mr. Parsons. The hollowpoint has been filled with a small, breakable capsule.”

“What’s in the capsule, then?” Sable said, asking the obvious question that was on Cliff’s mind.

“It’s a small container that’ll be able to be fired out of the gun, but will burst on impact with the target. It’s filled with holy water.”

It was hard for Cliff to not be impressed. He put the Beretta into his holster, and Sable followed suit.

“And now, the pièce de résistance.” Susan said, very clearly enjoying herself. She handed them both two rather large cases. “Brooks made sure everything was ready to go right out the gate, so don’t worry. We know you two can handle these.”

Cliff popped open his case on the ground. His eyes widened. Inside was a tooled up CAR-15, with an Aimpoint 2000 on the carry handle and a Surefire 6P flashlight mounted around the A-frame. He pulled it out and looked it over, noticing an engraving of St. Michael and the Cross on the right side of the magwell. He shook his head as he marveled at the rifle. He grabbed up the magazine in the case and looked at the rounds.

“Full silver jacket?” he asked Susan.

She nodded, “Yep. It’ll put down just about anything. There’s also some with an iron core penetrator for going up against harder targets.”

“If I shoot you with it, will it hurt?”

“It’d hurt, but not as much as I’d hurt you.”

“Noted.”

Sable opened her case and looked over her last piece of gear. Inside was a long staff made of walnut wood. She put her hand on it and felt that buzzing in her head again, but more intensely this time. She held it up and felt the wood almost vibrate in her hand. It was bare, for now. She would take the time to adorn it later. Susan took the cases away and smiled, very proud of herself.

“The rifle and pistol were sent through the Church to be blessed and engraved. The staff was provided by the Sisters of the Eclipse, but I requested the other pistol special for you, Sable. As an heirloom, it should perform very well for you.”

“An heirloom?” Sable asked.

“That’s right. That pistol was your great great grandmother’s that she carried in World War I. It’s been passed down all the way to you. Everyone in your lineage has used it.”

“Even-?”

“Yes. Even your mother. The Sisters assured me you would be ready for it.”

Sable looked more determined than ever now. Susan liked that expression. She folded her arms over her chest and took her glasses off.

“Head out to the car. I’ll be along shortly.”

Cliff and Sable checked their weapons and made their way upstairs. Susan watched as Cliff took Sable’s pistol from her and began to show her the ropes. Susan turned around and discarded her casual outfit for a commando sweater, black BDU pants, and an Eagle Industries LBV-M SOMAV. It was outfitted with her usual gear setup. She grabbed an MP5SD3 and a black watch cap. Then she smeared black grease paint over her face and slipped on some leather gloves. She checked her weapon and headed up the stairs.

Susan found the two by the Lancer. Cliff was going over the finer points of sight acquisition and posture. She handed him the paint stick. Cliff almost did a double-take when he got a look at Susan in her getup.

“What? You didn’t think I was gonna let you two have all the fun now, did you?”

Cliff looked equal parts relieved and annoyed. He put the black paint on his face and then handed it to Sable, who also smeared the black paint onto her face. Cliff handed the paint stick back to Susan, who pocketed it. The three of them got into the car and headed out for Numazu.