As I was reaching for my trusted gun, just as it was kind of an automatic thing for me while gearing up to slip it into my thigh holster, Murdock’s sharp voice said, “No, that is not for you; that will be my gun from this on now, thank you very much. Here is your SIG, as we talked, and you have your modified holster on your hip, not thigh holsters anymore.”
I gave him my gun and took the gun that had been chosen for me.
It was an excellent gun, but my loyal Browning had been with me for decades, maybe even centuries, and it had been slightly worn by my hands, and giving it up was surprisingly hard.
But I had no choice.
Murdock grunted happily; for him, my gun was spot on.
Despite him being one of the best sharpshooters, he was good with smaller weapons as well.
I reached for my locker to get my boots, only to have Lepard snatch them and Magnum give me my new ones.
They reached way up to my calf, but they let my leg move and gave excellent support; it was easy to kick and run with them, but again, they were not my trusty ones.
Magnum had grumbled quite long and hard as he had truly gone through each piece of my gear; let’s just say he pretty much gave them away and gave me a whole new set, and he was next to me as I put my shoes on.
“Sit down. I lace them,” he said.
For God’s sake, sure, I can tie my own shoes, but no, I sat down, and there was actually a pretty intricate way to lace up the boots, and Magnum’s grips were sure and firm as he made sure support was spot on, and the boots were perfect.
We had discussed that after this mission, we would focus on gear because it had a significant impact on what to wear and what worked best with whom.
For example, because Mimosa and Shadow were bustier than me, their chest pieces needed to be a little more roomy but not too big, as running without support on the breasts was uncomfortable, and because Damon had given them something resembling D cups, support was required.
My hair, as well as everyone else’s, was tightly put in a bun, and we had our communications turned on, so everything was checked several times.
We had eaten a lot, and Colin had given us all energy smoothies that were packed with nutrients and such.
Our new web was as active as ever, and it took some time to get used to, namely when Dexter unleashed his murderous impulses in our web, arousing my own darkness and making Wulfe groan as he slammed my darkness down.
We were all focused on our mission, and Magnum was busy adjusting Elena’s boots and making sure Katherine’s vest was tight enough and in the right place, while Murdock double-checked each of our guns and how much ammo we had.
As I walked up to my smaller locker, my pockets empty, I opened it; there were a lot of small charges, grenades, and other explosives in it.
“Honey, what the hell!” Charles exclaimed as he realized this.
Murdock approached me, pushed me aside, and said, “Not you; we need a little extra; let’s see what you need.”
Magnum and Alaric walked in as well; they were our main attackers, which meant we were medics, movers, or whatever was required, but those would be tasked with giving us room to operate.
Destroy as much as possible.
My charges weren’t too experimental, so they weren’t a risk in and of themselves, but I kept them in my office and didn’t put them on our public shelves because they were useful in my usual missions, and guys tended to be lazy and take these instead of our usuals because they packed more punch.
Magnum inquired, “I have not seen these on public shelves; why?” “And I had no idea we had these in here; they’re very versatile.”
I said.
“Yeah, but guys are lazy; they snatch these because they’re easier, built-in fuses, and there’s no need to fiddle so much. There’s a limited number, and I usually keep them for high-priority missions. As you know, we have a wonderful selection of cheaper and more common stuff, but you need a little more of it.”
Dresden, who had actually become a pretty damn good field operative, said, “Fair point, but we need to do this a little differently. I mean, we need to have these behind, say, base leaders, or earmark certain missions where one could request these. Again, you cannot be the only one who has access or decides.” This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Alaric grunted in agreement, and I nodded and said.
“Well, let’s look into that after this mission.”
But the door opened, and two men walked in: Colin, my secret mate, as well as my explosives guru, Peter, a tall guy with light orange hair in a ponytail, a nice face, and a friendly manner and a relaxed way of speaking, though he flirted with me.
“Come in,” Colin said.
“Leave them; we will get them done, and we have an idea of how to do this. My love, do you have these elsewhere?”
I said, “Well, not in this base, but I have others in my gun safe, usually in my office.”
Colin nodded and said, “Well, I happen to know your combination, so this will keep us busy while you are on your mission. We will overhaul all of our explosives and classify them, giving them color codes or whatnot, as there have been talks about these kinds of mission parameter guidelines, meaning what ammo, how many guys, what class of explosives, and basic stuff, but it would streamline things as they would have a ready-made list of what to take, and then as new info would come in, of course, things could change. You know just how much time it takes to teach someone basic missions and what to take and what not to take, but if we had printed directives, there would be no need for everyone to ask around or come up with weird ideas.”
I nodded; it was not actually such a bad idea, even if it might sound a bit bureaucratic, but the fact was each mission had a kind of skeleton, and while we seniors knew our stuff, newcomers did not.
And it was well known that it was an irritant to teach someone what a mission needed.
So sure, guidelines could work, as number four had written his manual for field surgery, a few Salvatores with Mariella had written a lot of stuff about nutrition, and even Magnum and Wulfe had come up with their ideas of gyms and exercises.
Besides, let’s see how it works out and what needs to be tweaked, and sure, it would keep Colin and others nice and busy as our mission might take time.
This would not be one of those “go in, save everyone, and get out” missions, but it might take days or weeks, as we would have to defend ourselves and, at the same time, rescue and send off victims as fast as possible.
And while we would be in Sark’s as well as Krychek’s stronghold, someone might call this a suicide mission.
But hey, we were immortal, unkillable, so for us, there was no such thing as a suicide mission.
I was next to put on my new gloves, which had adjustable straps, and Magnum was all over me, making sure they fit perfectly.
As we had tested this and that during our time in the pocket universe, he had a lot of data.
And now this mission had dropped into our laps, and he had to improvise, meaning not everything was maybe up to his high standards, but then again, this was a trial by fire, meaning if these would work, then it would be fine, but then a slight hitch would give him even more data.
And it was not just Magnum; I had my tattoo with spells made by Wulfe, meaning no more of the old spells that I had used for years or decades in my missions, but now he had refined them and chosen only those that would be needed.
Again, he explained it to me as if I were a siphon; I absorb magic, and many of those spells were highly layered.
Being in skin contact with me made those spells weaken, ever so slightly, but still.
It was kind of magical erosion and emission; it would do no good if some spell snapped off, as it would be too eroded.
It made sense; it did not mean I liked it.
My supernatural tattoo was hidden, and as I was putting my gear on, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Sure, I was tiny, my red hair in a bun, my face innocent-looking, Wulfe standing nearby, taller than me but young-looking as well, in tactical gear.
It would be hard for anyone at first glance to believe I was the leader of this whole shindig or over 200 years old, and Wulfe, the teenager standing near me, was over 2500 years old and a vampire wizard.
I felt old; by God, sometimes it really hit me as I started to go through my entire history and how everything had changed so many times and nothing was as it had been, but then again, did it have to? Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Maybe change is inevitable because it is our way of growing and evolving.
“Brat, get your mind out of philosophy lessons and get ready,” Alaric commented.
I smiled mirthlessly, knowing this would not be a walk in the park.
Not in any way.
And yeah, I had my new jacket chosen for me; my old one was now on Adam.
As it had been again loose and long for me, as I liked not-too-fitted clothes.
Magnum had explained that the jacket would have to be form-fitting in order to give the best protection, usefulness, and safety first, not my need for comfort.
My large office did not feel cramped, even though I had grown accustomed to being in this group over the course of the four days it had taken us to work this out.
My new web received praise from everyone, and it was a way for me to share most of my powers with others.
Of course, they could tap into it or pull something, but they needed to understand how to use what they had; I had not limited it, nor had Wulfe, but we had told others and let them test it themselves, so while a boost was available, it would be preferable if I was the one giving it or telling them how to manage it.
Constantine asked as he was now lacing his boots, as Wulfe was telling him how.
“I mean, love, this web is bloody genius, but are you sure it does not, you know, corrupt me, make me take hellfire back?”
I said, “It is my powers; those don’t corrupt; they empower. Makes you feel a bit like a god, but fine, let me show you. This is less than one part in a million of my pure rage. I let my willpower mix too, so you have tools to handle it. You tell me, do you really need some pesky hellfire after this?”
I smiled as I got my powers ready to be oozed into our web, and Dresden said, “Fine, give me too, Salvatore; show me that your rage can top off whatever I had in my best days.”
Once again, my eyes rolled in my head like billiard balls, and I let my rage and my will seep into these two.
Dresden took a deep breath and looked at the floor, and once he raised his gaze, his eyes were more or less flaming with violet.
The violet hue sparkled from the tips of his fingertips, and his voice seemed to have many echoes.
“Nothing can stop us, you know. I can do anything. Nothing in the universe can stop us. Oh my god, I am free. I can do whatever I want…”
Constantine was as glowing with violet as Dresden had been, and he said softly, “My love, you and your rage are my new drug, and you will be a pusher. You are right; hellfire seems like a limp rag. How the hell do you function feeling like this?”
Wulfe said, “Use her willpower; it is slightly stronger than rage, so it is your control panel.” “My unicorn is truly mighty.”
Dresden, his voice still eerie, said to me.
“Once this is over, you need to teach us a lot more: how to utilize this, what we can do if we all use this, what kind of resistance sarks can give us if we all attack them with this…”
Well, I had no idea; actually, maybe time would tell us.
But now it was about time to start this mission and hope for the best.