HollowKoP

Lucilla and Berit both smiled warmly at Pyris as he sat near them and the first race began. Though Lucilla was not overly interested in the first race, as it usually was one designed to get the crowd more in the mood for the following races, she still cheered from time to time, though over all the blue team did little to contend for the lead. The race ended in a green team victory, which lead to Antonius paying a small sum to the emperor, for they had not bet heavily on the early race.

As the races continued, the two young women noted that Pyris was trying to fit in, though not succeeding as well as he likely hoped. Luckily for him however, most everyone else had so much of their attention on the race during the times he tried to fake a cheer that they likely didn’t notice his attempts.

Flames and smoke exploded around Bernadette as she flew up towards the surface, passing through the ruined foundation of the ministry building, coughing as she went from the massive amounts of smoke that was billowing up into the air. Unable to see anything within the cloud of smoke, Bernadette flew to the side once she had judged that she had gone high enough into the air, eventually passing through an outer wall of the ruined ministry building and into the debris strewn street. Shifting back to her normal density as she felt to the ground, coughing up blood as she tried to get fresh air into her lungs, Bernadette rolled over onto her back as she looked up to the smoke filled sky.

Bernadette lay there for what seemed an eternity, thick black smoke billowing up above her till the sound of sirens pulled her back to her surroundings. Rolling over on one side, Bernadette felt the pain in her left shoulder and right ankle as she pushed her self back up to her feet. A few people were starting to make their way into the streets, looking to see what had happened, and it sounded like emergency response vehicles were on their way towards the scene.

Limping away from the middle of the street, Bernadette made her way back into a nearby alleyway, leaning up against the wall as she entered the shadows, feeling as if she was about to collapse. Sliding down the wall, she peered out into the street as she watched emergency vehicles starting to arrive at the now blazing inferno that had been the Ministry of Agriculture. As she watched, Bernadette carefully removed her right boot, wincing as pain shot through her ankle. Once her boot was removed, Bernadette took off her sock and could see that her ankle was already turning black.

Pulling her fist aid kit from her vest, Bernadette took out some athletic tape and began to tightly wrap her ankle, ignoring the pain as she did so. Once she had the ankle bound, providing her with a little more support, Bernadette carefully put her boot back on, the process was slow, and painful, but soon she had it back in place, lacing it back up as best she could. Pushing herself back up to her feet, she still felt some pain when she put weight on her ankle. Looking back out into the street, Bernadette saw several more Iraqis were gathered around the burning building now.

The winds seemed to have picked up, sand blowing past her as Bernadette looked to the West to see a massive wall of sand blowing towards the city, the lights of the city illuminating the sandstorm, making it seem a faintly glowing wall that was drawing ever closer. Oh bloody ‘ell. Bernadette thought as she turned and started down the alleyway away from the ministry building and deeper into the city.

Thirty Four hours later, 40 miles Southwest of Baghdad

Staff Sergeant Mark Lawson was sitting up in the main turret of his M2A2 Bradley fighting vehicle as it raced down the road towards Baghdad. Sergeant Lawson was in the lead element of the Third Squadron Seventh Calvary, the advanced scouts leading the US Armies Third Infantry Division on their drive towards Baghdad. The sandstorm that had blown in a little over a day ago had halted the advance of all the Coalition forces, keeping them halted all the day before, but when the weather had cleared this morning they had started pressing forward once more with an added since of urgency.

Lawson and his crew had been on the road for about three hours now, they were one of the foremost vehicles in the Seventh Calvary, and Lawson was carefully scanning the area ahead for any potential Republican Guard positions. As he focused back ahead of the Bradley, he spotted something several miles up the road. Keying the internal microphone that was attached to his helmet, Staff Sergeant Lawson called down to the two crewmen below. “Weller, there is someone up ahead on the road, slow down a bit, but keep advancing so we can get a better idea what might be up there.” Down inside the Bradley, Private First Class Jack Weller started to slow down their advance as he peered through the small window in front of him as he tried to make out what could be ahead of them.

As the armored vehicle started to slow down slightly, Lawson keyed the internal mic once more. “Jackson, see if you can get a better look at what is up ahead of us.” Behind the Bradley’s 25mm chain gun, Specialist Chris Jackson activated the weapon’s advanced sights. “I’m on it.” Zooming the targeting sight in towards the figure up ahead, a faint smile came to Jackson’s face as he let out a whistle. “Sarg, I don’t think it’s anyone hostile, unless the Iraqis have a lot of gorgeous redheads they have been hiding somewhere.”

Lawson was a bit surprised by his gunner’s reply as he looked through his binoculars once more, able to tell now that it was a person leaning up against a motorcycle, and he thought he could make out long red hair. “Still, keep an eye out, I wouldn’t put anything past these guys.” He ordered as they continued down the road towards the figure.

A few miles ahead, Bernadette was leaning up against the motorcycle she had stolen to get out of the city, the fuel tank having run out a little over an hour ago. Peering down the road, her mirrored sunglasses blocking out the glaring sun, Bernadette could see the US Bradley making its way towards her. Smiling slightly, she just calmly remained where she was, waiting till they were a few hundred yards away when she stuck out her left arm and held up her thumb. She was still in her desert camouflage pants, but had taken off the top, which was lying over the back of the bike with her combat vest, leaving her in just dark brown tank top T-shirt.

The Bradley noisily neared her as Bernadette yelled out. “Top o’ the mornin’ ta ye lads, give a lass a lift back ta the rear?” The Bradley came to a sudden halt, its powerful engine still rumbling as the soldier sitting up in the top of the turret called back. “Identify yourself, and we might be able to help you out.” Bernadette grinned slightly at the cautious nature of the Americans as she replied. “Names Bernadette O’Connell. ‘ave yer lead element call back ta theater command an’ mention that ye ‘ave come across Thevshi an’ they should get ye some orders back right quick.”

The soldier seemed somewhat surprised, but reached down into the vehicle to get the handset for the vehicles radio. Bernadette just sat calmly up against the motorcycle as she waited for the commander of the Bradley to get a response back. She didn’t have long to wait before the vehicle commander called back to her. “Sorry about that Ma’am, but I am sure you can understand that we can’t be too careful. We will get you back to the main body where a helo will pick you up to get you back to Kuwait. Just head around back and we will open the troop compartment, it will be a bit crowded, but..” Bernadette stood up and cut him off as she picked up her vest and camouflage top. “Nah, I think I will just ride up top, not really one ta bounce around inside a tin can.”

Limping away from the motorcycle, Bernadette climbed up onto the Bradley, waiving at the driver as she passed by his position and made her way up onto the top of the turret where she sat down nest to the hatch the Staff Sergeant was in. Looking over at the somewhat stunned Staff Sergeant, Bernadette smiled as she said. “Well, lets get goin’, I ‘ave more than enough o’ this bleedin’ country.” The vehicle commander nodded as he spoke into the microphone on his helmet and the Bradley started forward again, beginning a wide turn to reverse direction and head back towards the main body of the Third Infantry Division.

Lucilla and Berit noted the arrival of Lucius Marius and Pyris to watch the races. The fact that Pyris was accompanying him, told Lucilla that the young man had likely done something that had impressed his owner, thus the visit was a reward. As her father had told her the night before that he had made Brutus a tribunal in the legion that would be accompanying them to the East to join the three other legions already in the area, Lucilla was not particularly surprised that he was absent. He was likely already at the legion’s camp, learning his duties. Though it would likely not be as often as when he was just the son of one of her father’s clients, Lucilla knew she would likely see Brutus again soon.

The legion seemed like it would be a good fit for Brutus, he did spend a great deal of time training as an athlete. Most of the Roman elite spent at least a little time in the legions, some, like her father, would go back and forth between legion postings and more civilian offices. Lucilla wondered if Brutus would be one to move back and forth in such a manner, or would he seek to make a full career of being in the legions.

She was pulled from such thoughts as the chariots for the first race moved out to their starting places to the cheers of the crowds. Her father and the emperor placed a small wager on this first race, neither particularly interested in this race. From what she had heard, the emperor was likely most interested in the race that one of the better racers for the green team was in, Atilius Cornutus. That was either the seventh or eight race if the remember correctly. That would likely be one of the most heavily wagered races of the day.

After giving Pyris a warm smile after greeting his master when Lucius Marius had come to greet her and her father, Lucilla turned out towards the sand race track to watch the first race.

Bernadette took a deep breath, the exertion of the fight and using her powers starting to take its toll on her more. Quickly glancing back down at her watch, she noted the new countdown that had begun, she only had to keep herself alive for a few more minutes. Looking back up at the large Iraqi in front of her, Bernadette grinned as she replied for the benefit of the Special Republican Guard officer. “Surrender? I think I’m the one who is doin’ well ‘ere, perhaps ye lot should surrender?”

The officer regarded her coldly as her replied. “British arrogance.” He then shouted in Arabic, his words simple enough that Bernadette understood the basic meaning. ~“Marduk, kill her!”~ The hulking Iraqi wasted no time in rushing forward, his massive hands reaching out for Bernadette as he yelled out. Bernadette tensed slightly as she increased her density to near maximum, cracks forming in the cement under her feet as she prepared for Marduk’s charge.

Stepping slightly to the right, Bernadette avoided Marduk’s grab as her left hand swung to her side, hitting the large Iraqi in the back of the head, adding more momentum to his headlong impact into another of column. The massive man easily smashed through the column, concrete and dust filling the air as he landed on the other side, slightly dazed from the impact. Bernadette heard the sound of AK-47s firing at her, round landing all around her, some glancing off her harmlessly as another sound drowned out the AK fire.

The balcony above Bernadette and Marduk groaned as the supports holding it up began to snap since two of column’s supporting the balcony were gone. With loud cracking as the cement broke a large section of the balcony fell down onto Bernadette and Marduk, breaking into pieces as it did so. Bernadette lifted her arms up above her head as the large chunks of concrete fell, knocking her to the ground as the air was filled with a massive cloud of concrete dust.

Up above Baghdad, the weapons officer on Captain Dillon’s B-2 Stealth Bomber finished programming the smart bombs that the bomber was carrying. Looking back forward towards Captain Dillon, he nodded that he was ready as he held his hand ready to launch the weapons. Captain Dillon checked their altitude and heading before he turned back to his weapons officer. “Authorized for release. Walt, send them down to pay a visit to our Iraqi friends.”

The weapons officer flicked the switch for weapons release, the two smart bombs dropping from the bomb bays, their rockets activating as they cleared the aircraft and began their decent towards the lights of the city below. “Weapons away.” First Lieutenant Walter Green stated as he watched their progress on the screen in front of him. “Alright Walt, we are heading home. Want to get out of the path of that sandstorm that is heading this way.” Captain Dillon replied as he banked the aircraft, turning them back towards the East and towards Diego Garcia. The second B-2 that was nearby was also turning back, their weapons released as well.

The four smart bombs that the bombers had deployed streaked down towards the city below, the advanced guiding systems within the munitions locking onto the signals they were receiving from the target below. At the same time the six Tomahawk missiles that the USS Shiloh had launched were also altering their course, zeroing in on the same target, but would arrive a few seconds behind the bombs dropped by the bombers.

Down in the underground bunker below the Agricultural Ministry, Anu, the Special Republican Guard officer that had lead the other two superpowered Guard members down to deal with the British operative made his way through the dust filled room, coughing as he went. A gash bleed on his forehead here he had been hit by debris after managing to dodge being crushed by the collapsed part of the balcony. He could barely see more than five feet as he moved over towards where he believed the pile of rubble caused by the collapse to be. Several of the Iraqi soldiers that had been up on the opposite side of the balcony were on their way down to the lower level to try and help search the dust cloud and rubble.

Ahead of him, Anu could hear the sound of concrete shifting as someone pushed their way out of the collapsed rubble. Unable to see who it might be, he called out in Arabic. “Marduk, is that you?” Moving towards the sound as he prepared his mental powers incase it was the British operative. The reply that came back answered his question as he heard the Irish accent reply. “Guess again boyo.” Anu didn’t have a chance to try and target her, something that was made much more difficult by the low visibility when he saw her dark shape streak towards him from the dust cloud, slamming into him almost as soon as he spotted her.

Anu was knocked backward, landing on his back, the girl landing on top of him as he looked up at her. Her face was a mask of anger, blood visible in the corner of her mouth and her lovely face covered with dirt and dust as she quickly hit him, snapping his head to the side as his vision filled with stars from the hard impact. Trying to push her off him, Anu struggled as more impacts to his head soon rendered him unconscious.

When the officer underneath her went limp, Bernadette stopped hitting him. She was only at her normal density, her body aching with exhaustion and pain from having several tons of concrete fall on top of her. Her left shoulder hurt like hell and she could tell her right ankle was severely sprained. She could hear soldiers moving further out in the dust cloud, some calling out for the officer as they moved forward. Looking down at the man’s unconscious form, Bernadette knew he was too dangerous to her to let him regain consciousness. Reaching to her belt, she drew her Fairbain combat dirk, the seven-inch long double edged blade ending in a sharp point.

Lifting the blade up as she reversed her grip with the point aimed down at the officer’s throat, Bernadette hesitated a moment before she began to stab downward. There was a sudden rush of wind beside her as Bernadette felt something hit the side of her head, knocking her off the officer as she rolled a few feet away from him, her vision blurring slightly as she shook her head to try and focus again. Pain shoot through her body from her injured shoulder and ankle. Looking over towards where the officer lay unconscious still, she saw a blurring figure in the dust cloud, the speedster had decided to get back into the fight.

Spitting out blood, Bernadette pushed herself back up to her knees, her head spinning slightly as she did so. Switching the grip on her dirk once more, she waited for the speedster’s next move, sliding herself a bit further from the unconscious officer. Girru halted briefly next the unconscious form of Anu, noting that he was still breathing. Focusing back on the teenage girl ahead of him, he was amazed at the damage she had been able inflict upon them alone. Girru’s right arm hung in a makeshift sling, the pain from the broken bones still slowing him down some.

With a sudden movement, Girru started towards the girl as she got back up to her knees, his left hand pulling out a combat knife from his belt as he moved towards her. Bernadette was moving as soon as she saw the speedster start to move. Pushing herself backward, she rose to her feet, stepping to her left as she moved to his weak side as his speed up beside her. The blade of his knife passed in front of her face as the speedster slashed across his body at her. Bernadette’s right hand stabbed forward as she had moved, her Fairbain burying itself into the upper part of Girru’s thigh.

Crying out in pain as the seven inch blade sunk into his leg, Girru felt his leg colapse underneath him, sending him falling forward to the ground. Managing to twist as he fell to land on his left shoulder, the jarring impact still sent waves of pain through his broken arm as Girru slid a good fifteen feet across the ground before coming to a halt. Lying still for a moment, Girru managed to roll over to his back, pain shooting through his body as his left hand reached across to try and grasp the hit of the dirk buried in his leg.

Smiling grimly as speedster fell to the ground and skid a ways before coming to a halt, Bernadette started towards the downed Iraqi, limping slightly due to her injured ankle. She had only gone a few feet when there was a loud crashing as debris from the collapsed balcony was pushed aside and Marduk yelled out in anger as he freed himself. Bloody ‘ell, don’ they ever stay down? Bernadette thought as she turned to face the large Iraqi through the thinning dust cloud. The large man was covered in grey concrete dust and blood, his angry gaze focused on the slim red headed teen as he began to rush forward once more.

Bloody never learns. Bernadette thought as she glanced down at her watch again to see the countdown that had started begin to reach its end. Looking back up at the charging Marduk, a smile came to Bernadette’s face as she began to trigger her density control powers once more, shifting to her desolid form as she said. “Well, it’s been fun, but time fer me ta be goin’.” Marduk skid to a halt as his massive right fist passed harmlessly through Bernadette’s now ghost like body and she began to lift up into the air towards the ceiling.

Glancing down below her, Bernadette noticed the Special Republican Guard officer had climbed back to his feet, his gaze fixed on her as he called out. “You are not going anywhere you Irish b*tich!” Bernadette could feel him reaching out towards her mind, fear starting to grip her when there was a faint rumbling sound before the ceiling above exploded.

The four bunker buster smart bombs deployed by the B-2 bombers had struck the target area, crashing through the outer part of the ministry building before hitting the reinforced foundation that covered the underground bunker. The shaped charges of the warheads were driven deep into the foundation by the velocity of the impact, the charges detonating, blasting through the rest of the foundation to release the second charge into the bunker itself.

As the ceiling above her exploded outward and the room filed with explosions and smoke, Bernadette began to accelerate towards the surface as the first two of the Tomahawk cruise missiles reached the ministry building. The two standard warheads on the missiles blasted away a portion of the outer walls of the building, opening it up for the four missiles that followed. Those four, just moments behind, passing through the new openings to follow the path of the four bunker busters into the depths of the bunker. Hitting the entry points the bunker busters had created, the Tomahawk’s warheads detonated, a special payload of napalm flooding into the underground bunker, turning it into a blazing inferno designed to burn away any chemical or biological agents within.

As the metal cylinders clanged noisily across the metal floor, the Special Republican Guard officer who had been attacking Bernadette with his mental assaults moved back towards the exit from the room on the raised area. His gaze was fixed on the containers, looking for any sign of the seals breaking on them as he backed up to the metal door. “Are you insane? You will kill us all!” He called out to Bernadette, who was backing off from the knocked over stack of canisters as well, watching them intently as the larger Iraqi soldier recovered and began to stand back up.

There was a flash of movement that Bernadette caught out of the corner of her eye, keeping her density increased to maximum as she waited for an attack from the speedster who had clotheslined her earlier. It was only a split second later that she felt the impact from his passing attack, though the impact felt only like a faint slap as the sound of breaking bones could be heard as the speedster yelled in pain as his arm broke from the impact. Bernadette turned, hoping he might slow from the pain so she could put him down, but he continued on, slowing a little, but still far faster than her as he ducked behind another stack of chemical weapon canisters.

The sound of booted feet behind her had Bernadette spin back around, her right arm coming up to block a right hook from the large Iraqi solider, her forearm stinging slightly as she blocked his powerful swing. Pushing his arm to the side and making the large Iraqi’s upper body twist to his left. Turning slightly, Bernadette brought her left hand into the side of the large Iraqi, causing him to grunt from the hard impact. With a sudden movement his right elbow swung back, hitting Bernadette in the face and causing her to stagger backward.

Stepping forward as he twisted back towards her, the large Iraqi, Marduk swung his left hand at Bernadette’s head in a wide hook. Recovering quickly from the elbow, Bernadette ducked under his left hook, stepping forward as she drove her left hand into his stomach once more. The blow doubled Marduk over slightly as most of the air was forced out of him. Bernadette’s left hand grabbed the front of Marduk’s uniform as her right reached down and hooked under his left leg and the immediately twisted to her left as she lifted up her right arm and over.

Marduk was just recovering from her hit when he was lifted up into the air in a throw, his back hitting the metal floor, breaking through the grating from the force of the impact as he disappeared into the space below. As the large Iraqi smashed through the metal grating on the floor, Bernadette lowered her density back to normal, her breathing starting to get heavy from the exertion of her powers. She then flew backward, towards the doorway out of the room, twisting in the air to face the Special Republican Guard officer who was by the door. She was wasting too much time with this fight, she needed to complete the uplink so the rest of the mission could be carried out.

The officer’s gaze locked on her as she flew towards the door, his eyes narrowing as Bernadette felt the biting pain in her mind once more. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the sharp pain as she twisted in the air, increasing her density once more as her momentum carried her into the metal door. Bernadette hit the door hard, her increased weight and velocity ripping the metal door from its hinges to fall to the ground a few feet on the other side with her on top of it. The biting pain subsided in her mind as she left the officer’s line of sight, Bernadette rolling over quickly to face the doorway as her left hand removed another small device from her vest.

Pushing herself up, Bernadette quickly crawled over to the doorway, placing the device just outside the door as she activated it. Standing back up, the Iraqi officer appeared at the doorway, his gaze falling on her once more. Pain again shot through her mind as Bernadette swung her right hand out in a backhanded strike, catching the officer across the face and knocking him to the side and onto the smashed metal door. The pain subsided once more as Bernadette staggered backward, her head spinning slightly as she reached up and pressed one of two of the buttons on her Omega wrist watch.

The trigger inside her watch complete the link up between all the devices she had planted within the Iraqi chemical weapons facility, the device on the main floor of the Ministry building relaying the information up into the sky where it was received by a Royal British Airforce Sentry AEW-1 that was flying high above Iraq, well ahead of the storm that had been developing in the Western part of the country. Inside the reconnaissance aircraft, the system operator that had been monitoring the airwaves in Iraq for this particular signal quickly nodded to the officer overseeing the ten operators working in the back of the aircraft before relaying the telemetry being transmitted to the appropriate Coalition aircraft and naval vessels.

Thirty thousand feet above Baghdad, a Northrop Grumman B-2 Stealth Bomber finished its third loop over the Iraqi capital, the pilot, Captain Nathan Dillon, getting regular reports from his navigator about the fast approaching sand storm that was blowing in from the West. “Where’s that storm at now Don?” Captain Dillon asked as he looked back over his shoulder at his navigator who was sitting behind him to one side. The navigator looked back at his superior as he replied. “It should be hitting Baghdad in a few minutes.” Captain Dillon looked back out the front of his aircraft at the dark sky as he tried to stay steady in the already heavy winds. “D*mn it, whomever the brass has on the ground had better get moving or we will have to abort.”

Suddenly the copilot grabbed Nathan’s arm as he pointed towards the instruments in front of them. “Nat, we are receiving a relay from a RAF Sentry in the area, looks like we have our target.” Captain Dillon looked at the information that was feeding into their weapons guidance computers, providing targeting information in downtown Baghdad. “About d*mn time! Walt, prep our payload, we deploy in one minute.” The weapon’s officer for the aircraft nodded as he opened the outer doors in the two bomb bays for the B-2 bomber, feeding the information begin relayed by the Sentry into the guidance chips of the two 2,000 pound bunker buster GPS guided bombs that the bomber was carrying. Of to the left of Captain Dillon’s bomber, another B-2 was doing the same thing as both bombers prepared to deliver their powerful munitions.

Out in the Persian Gulf, the USS Shiloh, a Ticonderoga Class Guided Missile Cruiser that was part of the USS Abraham Lincon’s Strike Group was making its way through the dark waters of the Gulf. Inside the weapons room for the cruiser, the only light a red tactical light that cast much of the room into shadows, Petty Officer First Class Kyle Stewart had been wondering what was going on when the Shiloh had launched six Tomahawk Cruise Missiles about an hour ago, with no defined target. He figured something had to be up, as he doubted that the Navy would be wasting six million dollars worth of their most advanced cruise missiles so early in this conflict. Suddenly the screen in front of him lit up as targeting information from a RAF Sentry began to be received.

Turning back towards the officer in charge at the moment, Petty Officer Stewart called out. “Sir, I am receiving targeting information from a Sentry over Iraq.” Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Vincent quickly made his way over to Stewart’s station, looking at the information that was feeding onto the Petty Officer’s screen. Lieutenant Vincent had been given a bit more detailed briefing on the operations for this evening, and was not to surprised by what he saw. “Relay that over to Miller so he can program the Tomahawk’s guidance, we have our target.” Lieutenant Vincent ordered as he made his way over towards the phone that would connect him to the bridge and the Shiloh’s Captain.

Petty Officer Stewart nodded as he relayed the targeting telemetry over to Seaman First Class Miller’s consul as Miller began programming the six Tomahawks with the target information. Given the position of the Tomahawks, they would be striking the target within the next few minutes. Petty Officer Stewart was a bit amazed at the precision that had gone into coordinating this strike. Someone on the ground must have just set up a targeting system to provide accurate coordinates for the attack, if they had been much later, the Tomahawks could have run out of fuel, which would have been a major waste.

Down inside the chemical weapons storage facility below the Ministry of Agriculture, AK rounds began to ricochet around Bernadette began to stagger away from the entrance to the storeroom she had just exited. Several Iraqi soldiers were up on the upper level in large hallway that led back towards the entrance into the facility. Increasing her density slightly, Bernadette lifted up her P90 and fired several quick bursts up at the soldiers, hitting one and causing the others to duck back down below the railing for a moment.

Spinning back towards where the smashed door to the storage room was lying, Bernadette fired another quick burst, sending the Special Republican Guard officer rolling for cover behind a column as the rounds impacted around him. Her vision was slightly blurry, the mental attacks and physical exertion taking its toll. Fire starting from above once more as she put her back to one of the columns holding up the balcony above her, Bernadette kept her P90 aimed at the column the officer had ducked behind, taking a quick glance at her wrist watch and the new countdown that had begun until the weapons would strike this target.

The wall near her suddenly exploded outward as the large Iraqi, Marduk, smashed his way through, the air filling with flying debris and dust. Almost reflexively, Bernadette lifted up her P90, firing a long burst into the large man’s chest, the rounds all impacting harmlessly on his thick skin. Marduk rushed towards her, his right hand swinging towards her as Bernadette ducked down under the punch, rolling away from the large man. Marduk’s large fist hit the column Bernadette had been using as cover from the soldiers up on the balcony on the opposite side of the room, smashing the column in half with easy, sending chunks of concrete flying across the room.

Marduk spun back to face her as Bernadette came back up to her feet from her roll, increasing her density once more as she back up near another column, AK rounds hitting the wall near her as she went. Letting her P90 drop down to her side as she faced off with the large Iraqi soldier. The Special Republican Guard officer emerged from behind his column, Marduk between her and him as he called out. “You have performed admirably young woman, but I think it is time that you realize that there is no escape for you and surrender.”

Hidden behind a stack chemical weapon containers, Bernadette smirked slightly at the man’s threat. It would be so easy for her to leave here, but she needed to get to the doorway to complete the link to the surface. That meant that she had to deal with whomever was now at the entrance to the storeroom. Glancing back down at her watch, Bernadette saw the last few minutes ticking away as she sighed and readied her P90 as she slowly stood up, her back still against the containers. “’ow about we make a deal?” She called out towards where the voice had come from. “Ye let me walk out o’ ‘ere, an I leave you an’ yer men alive.”

While she waited for a reply, Bernadette edged towards the corner of the stack of containers to her left. It was only a few moments before the voice replied, obviously amused at her arrogance. “Very kind of you, but I think you will find that you are in a much more difficult situation than you think. What you did to the tank outside the ministry was impressive, but still will not keep us from doing our duty.”

About what I expected, but worth a shot. Bernadette thought as she took a quick breath as she turned around the corner of the stack of containers, her P90 aiming ahead of her as she put her sights on an Iraqi soldier who was moving forward. Firing a single shot, Bernadette put the round into his head, blood filling the air as he fell backward and Bernadette ducked back behind the stack of containers. As she did, there was some AK-47 fire that came her way, rounds ricocheting on the metal grating near her. As quickly as the return fire started, the officer who had been speaking to her yelled out in Arabic. ~“Hold your fire you idiots! She is down among tons of chemical weapons, you puncture any of those canisters, and you will kill us all! Go in there and get her.”~

Bernadette grinned slightly, though she could only make out a bit of what the officer had said, enough to know that they would be coming after her now. Moving back to her left, Bernadette increased her density slightly, increasing her already superhuman strength. Slinging her P90 onto her back, Bernadette listened as she could hear booted feet running across the steel gratings into the maze of stacked canisters. One of the soldiers was heading towards her as Bernadette edged near the corner of the stack of canisters, waiting for him to turn the corner.

The soldier swung his AK-47 around the side, stabbing with the bayonet that was fixed on the front of the weapon. Bernadette pushed up against the stack of containers, the bayonet passing to her left as her right hand shot forward, her wrist tilted up to strike with her palm. The open palm strike hit the Iraqi soldier on the left side of his jaw, twisting his head to the right as Bernadette heard his jaw break. The soldier was staggering to his right as Bernadette immediately followed up her attack, stepping forward with her right leg as she pulled her right arm back slightly. It was only for a brief moment before she swung her right elbow forward, striking the soldier in the throat and knocking him off his feet to land on the hard steel grating a few feet away. His AK-47 nosily clattered as it skid away from him as he tried to reach up to try and do something to clear his now collapsed airway.

Spinning away from the dying soldier, Bernadette’s right hand swept to her side, knocking aside the bayonet attack of another soldier who had rushed forward. Bernadette’s left hand struck this time, knocking the soldier’s head back as Bernadette’s left leg stepped across her body and she began to spin to the right. As she turned, Bernadette brought her right leg up to hit the Iraqi in the side of the head with her right foot, the force of the blow sending him back into a stack of containers about ten feet away. Slamming into the stack hard, the man fell to the ground, unconscious and likely seriously injured as some of the containers on the top row of the stack near the edges fell over the side. The metal cylinders clanged loudly as they hit the floor, causing Bernadette to tense up as she prepared herself to reach for the gas mask that was at her side.

The three cylinders that had fallen rolled along the ground, but didn’t break, their deadly contents still sealed with in. Bernadette breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a sudden impact to the back of her head. The buttstroke from the AK-47 would likely have seriously injured if not killed a normal person, Bernadette only staggered forward from the impact, pain shooting through her, but not anything she couldn’t handle. The soldier, who seemed surprised that his first attack hadn’t knocked her out or at least off her feet, hesitated and didn’t use his advantage as Bernadette turned her head slightly, her eyes narrowing on the man as her right leg kicked backward.

Her kick hit the man in the stomach, doubling him over as he was knocked backward to land fifteen feet away between two stacks of chemical weapon containers. With the opening that she now had, Bernadette started towards the raised area near the door to the storeroom, realizing that this was wasting her time. As she rounded a corner, she came face to face with an Iraqi soldier who’s eyes widened in surprise as he started to lift his AK-47 in front of him. Not slowing down, Bernadette turned slightly, slamming her shoulder into the man’s chest, knocking him to the ground as she dropped down, driving her right knee into his chest, the sound of ribs breaking audible as the man yelled out in pain.

Immediately standing back up as the soldier grasped at his chest in pain, Bernadette sprinted forward again. Another soldier rushed at her with his bayonet aimed at her heart from another isle between the stack of containers, yelling out as he rushed forward. Bernadette stepped to her right as the soldier rushed forward, turning left as her right hand grabbed his left sleeve, pulling him forward as her right leg extended in front of him. Caught completely off balance, the soldier tripped over Bernadette’s leg and fell flat onto his face as he hit the steel grating.

Bernadette turned back towards the exit, continuing on without bothering to see if the soldier would get back up or not. Sprinting between the stacks of chemical weapons, Bernadette could hear other soldiers coming from the sides as she came to a halt within sight of the Iraqi officer. The man seemed to be in his later twenties, early thirties, dressed in the distinct dark green uniform of the Republican Guard, with markings indicating he was a member of the Special Republican Guard. He seemed rather fit, with rugged features and a clean shaven face. His dark eyes fixed on hers as he smiled slightly as he regarded her and a very large soldier standing just behind him moved forward towards the stairs down from the raised area.

“How very nice to see you finally, such a lovely young woman to be doing such dangerous work. A pity your government saw fit to place you in this dangerous situation.” The officer said as Bernadette reached behind her for her P90. Just as she was pulling the sub-machinegun around in front of her, she felt a stabbing pain in her head, causing her to cry out in pain as her left hand reached up towards her head. Focusing past the pain, Bernadette lifted her P90 with her right arm to take aim at the officer when she caught a flash of movement from her right.

As soon as she saw the movement beside her, Bernadette felt an arm hit her across her neck as someone moved by her at high speed. Taken off guard by the account, Bernadette was knocked down onto the hard metal floor, losing her grip on the P90, the sling keeping the weapon beside her as she hit the ground, coughing as she tried to catch her breath once more. As her vision cleared, the form of the large Iraqi soldier loomed over her, his left foot coming down at her as she lay at his feet.

With a rush of adrenaline flowing through her, Bernadette lowered her density as the large soldier’s booted foot passed through her ghost like form, smashing a large hole in the metal grating beneath her. Bloody wonderful, superpowered agents, just what I bloody need. Bernadette thought as she drifted back up from the ground smiling slightly at the large soldier who looked at her with surprise on his face. “Very interesting powers, but I doubt they will protect you from me.” Called out the officer before he yelled out in Arabic. ~“Marduk Get ready to grab her!”~

Pain shot through Bernadette’s head once more as start flashed in front of her eyes and she dropped back down to the ground, returning to normal density as she did so. As she solidified, the large man, Marduk, grabbed her in a bear hug, squeezing his massive arms around her as Bernadette screamed out in pain from the crushing pressure around her upper body. A normal person would likely have several broken bones right now, but for Bernadette, all there was right now was intense pain, but that could change if she didn’t get free quickly.

Gritting her teeth, she looked down at the large man as he looked up at her with an evil grin on his face as he continued to squeeze. With effort, Bernadette managed to increase her density once more, the man’s grin fading to a look of shock as the just over one hundred and ten pound girl he was crushing suddenly weighed just over twenty tons. He was still holding her up, but was obviously exerting more effort to do so and the pain from his crushing grip was now just slight discomfort. With a grin of her own, Bernadette slammed her head down into the man’s face, the blow loosening his grip around her.

As his grip loosened, Bernadette pushed outward with her arms, breaking his grip completely as she dropped down to the floor, the metal bending under her weight, but thankfully holding. As she landed, Bernadette slammed her right hand into the large Iraqi’s stomach, causing him to bend forward slightly. For most, her first attack would have shattered their skull, the second hit would have crushed most of their internal organs and possibly even broken their spin, but this Iraqi seemed built to take it, which told Bernadette that she couldn’t pull any punches with him.

With the large Iraqi still dazed by her headbutt, Bernadette grabbed him with both arms as she shifted her weight, throwing him to the side and into one of the stacks of containers. The impact completely knocked over the stack, sending metal cylinders flying in all directions as the clanged loudly on the metal floor. Several Iraqi soldiers that had been moving over towards her were hit by the cylinders, knocked to the ground as the heavy metal containers landed on them.

After spending a bit of time at the bathhouse, Lucilla and Berit were riding on Lucilla’s litter towards the Circus Maximus. As they drew closer to the massive stadium, the going became slower as they came to the massive crowds gathered there for a day of races. Dozens of odds makers lined the streets as one drew closer to the stadium, calling out for bets to be placed. Lucilla was used to bets being placed on the races, but in a very different context. Among the wealthy, amounts were agreed upon between the two betting parties and conditions set. But many of the common citizens, and even some slaves, seemed eager to place bets with these men on the streets.

As they passed within sight of the entrances, both young women were glad they would be entering through the more private gate reserved for the Emperor and members of the Senate. There were easily hundreds of Romans gathered at each of the large entrances, wanting to get in for the first races of the day. Like the gladiatorial games in the Coliseum, the races at the Circus Maximus were a right of a citizen, not a luxury, so no admission was charged.

Soon the litter passed through the private gate, stopping at the entryway just beyond where the slaves carrying it placed it off to one side near dozens of other litters. The two young women then made their way through a tunnel towards the seating for the arena. Once inside, it was easy to spot the emperor’s private area, able to easily sit more that two score guests with him. It was positioned in the center of one of the long stretches of the race, right up near the front of the wall to the sand track below.

As Lucilla drew closer, she could see her father already seated next to the emperor and his wife. Several important senators were seated nearby as well as many of her father’s important clients. The Praetorian guards standing around the emperor’s private section let the two young women through immediately, Lucilla making her way towards her father and the emperor.

She hadn’t quite made it all the way when Ovius Plautus came over towards her. “Good day to you Lucilla Justina, you are looking radiant as always. I trust you have recovered well enough after any indulgence you may have had last night.” Lucilla gave him a warm smile as she replied. “I am well enough Ovius Plautus, and truly I only drank a little over much at the dinner. I hope you did not suffer from any such troubles?”

Ovius Plautus gave her a wry smile as he answered. “If only the wine had been my only such indulgence, but then I am afraid I am a bit overly attracted to food. Speaking of which, I am pleased your father choose to hire the freedman cook I suggested to him to take with you to the East.”

Lucilla gave the senator a quizzical look. “I was not aware that father had hired a cook, but then I have been out most of the morning thanks to Berit.” She looked over at the Celtic woman with a slight smile before focusing back on the senator. The old man gave a slight nod. “Ah, well it was only just this morning that your father hired him after my recommendation. I believe you spoke with him last night at the dinner party, he was working there as a food taster, which was his primary duty while still a slave. He was one of the tasters near Caesar’s dais.”

As the raven haired woman nodded in remembrance, a slight frown came to Berit’s face as she too remembered the taster from the night before, as well as the fact she was pretty sure she had seen him near the Forum earlier that same day. The fact that Orvius Plautus had now helped secure him a place in her master’s household felt slightly disturbing. Lucilla didn’t seem to notice the redheaded woman’s reaction as she replied. “Well, I am sure I will be meting him again later this evening.”

Orvius Plautus nodded as he took the raven haired woman by the arm and started towards her father and the emperor. “Yes indeed. There is still a bit of time before the first race begins, but I am sure you wish join your father, allow me to escort you to him.” With that they were on their way towards the waiting seats near Antonius Justus.

There was a loud clang of metal on metal as Bernadette ripped the second door of the airlock entrance to the underground bunker off its hinges and tossed it to the side. Returning her density back closer to normal, she lifted her P90 up once more as she stepped into the hallway beyond. It was a narrow hallway that went to the right and the left. Scanning both directions quickly, Bernadette took reached her left hand into a vest pouch on the left side of her vest, pulling out a device similar to the ones she had been placing on the way in. Putting the device beside the now open doorway, she activated it as the sound of booted feet could be heard making their way down the hallway to the right.

Frowning slightly, Bernadette flew off down the hallway to the left, trying to stay ahead of any responding soldiers so she could more easily focus on her mission. If the intelligence reports were correct, somewhere in this bunker complex were stockpiles of chemical weapons that the Iraqi’s had been hiding from the UN weapon inspectors for years. There was a great deal of concern among the top leadership planning this war that they could potential could come into use if the US and British forces threatened Baghdad. Bernadette had been sent in to document their existence, and then remove them as a possible threat.

Chemicals weapons frightened Bernadette, much like they did many other soldiers in both the US and British forces. While she could reduce her density to the point where no conventional military weapon could effect her, even she had to breath, thereby giving chemical weapons a means of effecting her as well. But still she had a job to do, so that the main combat forces seeking to remove Saddam Hussein’s government wouldn’t have to face them.

As she rounded the corner of the hallway, Bernadette slammed into an Iraqi soldier who was rushing towards the entrance to the bunker complex. The impact knocked the soldier to the ground, causing the one following right behind him to come to a sudden halt as he looked with shock at the flying Irish teen. Bernadette herself was unhurt by running into the soldier, bringing herself to a halt as she reached out and pulled the still standing soldier’s assault rifle from his grasp.

As she pulled his weapon away, her right foot kicked out, catching the man in the midsection, causing him to double over in pain. With a quick motion, she struck out with the butt of the AK-47 she had taken from the soldier, catching him on the side of the head. There was the faint sounds of bones breaking could be heard as the blow knocked him into the wall before he fell to the ground unconscious. Immediately after that, Bernadette turned off her mutant power of flight as she increased her density two about three times her normal weight as she dropped down on the stomach of the soldier she had knocked over.

The soldier cried out as she landed on his stomach and immediately followed up with a butt stroke from the AK-47 to the side of his head, putting the man down. Tossing the AK-47 to the side, Bernadette started running down the hallway away from entrance as she lifted her P90 back up to aim ahead of her. There were several metal doors built into the walls that she was passing, but these were likely to close to the entrance to be the storerooms she was looking for. Halting in the middle of the hallway, Bernadette flew up to place another device near on the roof near one of the few lights that provided the illumination for the area.

As she was coming back down there was the echo of gunfire from back down the direction she had just come from. Sparks flashed around her as AK rounds hit the concrete walls of the bunker. Spinning towards the corner of the hallway where the fire was coming from, Bernadette leveled her P90 and fired off two quick bursts towards the soldiers that were at the corner. Her quick return fire caught one of the guards, his body being slammed back against the wall before he fell to the ground, the others managed to duck back around the corner.

Bernadette frowned as she started to fly backward, firing another burst back down the hallway to keep the soldiers back around the corner. All of this was delaying her mission, and she was fast running out of time. She needed to find a way to lose the pursuit for the moment to give her some room to breathe. Spinning back around as she neared the end of this hallway, Bernadette flew around the corner as she swept to her right with her P90 at the ready. More gunfire rang around her as the soldiers at the far end of the hallway fired from around the corner.

The hallway ahead of her was clear as Bernadette ran just around the corner, placing another small device along the wall where it would not be easily noticed. The hallway ahead of her widened some, the stark concrete walls covered with pipes and electrical cables as a large passageway opened to the left and some stairs were visible to the right before the passage way continued onward to another corner. Rushing down the hallway, Bernadette aimed her P90 ahead of her, as a pair of Iraqi soldiers appeared around the corner at the far end of the hallway. Firing off a quick burst from her sub-machinegun, Bernadette had the two soldiers ducking back around the corner as she came to a quick halt, her back going up against the wall as she aimed to her left towards the large passageway that branched off from the hallway she was in.

The wide hallway went back into a two story open area, several metal doors visible along both levels, with narrow balconies going along the sides of the upper level. Currently Bernadette could not see any soldiers in the large passageway as AK rounds impacted around her from the far end of the hallway. Moving quickly over to her right and the top of the stairs, Bernadette fired another burst down the hallway to discourage the soldiers from moving forward as she started down the stairs. Stopping just a few steps down, Bernadette fixed another small device just under one of the rails on the stairwell before continuing on downward deeper into the bunker.

Moving quickly down the metal stairs, her booted feet making a distinct sound as she made her way down, scanning around the corners as she reached landings and moved to the next flight of stairs down. After descending about three stories, Bernadette came down a final flight of stairs that opened into a hallway. As soon as she reached to bottom of the stairs, AK round began to spark around her as Bernadette instantly lowered her density, taking on her ghostlike form as rounds passed through her. Flying forward some, she spotted two soldiers down the hallway in front of a large metal doorway, using steel beams that lined the hallway as cover as they fired at her.

Ducking behind a nearby steel beam, Bernadette returned to her normal density as she placed another of her small devices up against the beam, activating it before she quickly fired a burst from her P90 down the hallway towards the Iraqis. Ducking back out of sight as gunfire sparked off the beam she was behind, Bernadette dropped the magazine from the P90, pulling out another of the clear plastic magazines from her vest. Loading it into place, she lowered her density once more, slipping into the walls, as she wondered how thick the concrete walls in the bunker were.

The walls proved to be about half a meter thick as Bernadette passed into Large open room, metal grating running beneath her feet as she ducked down on what seemed to be a balcony looking over a large room. The balcony she was on was dimly lit, which suited Bernadette just fine as she looked down over the side at the room below her. Filling the room below were rows upon rows of metal containers about two feet tall and cylinder in shape. Stacked upon each other on palates, some four high for each stack, the containers had the international symbol for hazardous chemicals within. The red triangle was all Bernadette needed to see to know that she didn’t want to fire any rounds in this room.

Letting her P90 hand from its sling, she scanned the room for a bit, listening as she could hear footsteps echoing faintly within the room. Taking a deep breath, Bernadette lowered her density once more, flying out over the rows of stacked chemical weapon containers. As she passed over the containers, she spotted a soldier walking down among the rows, his AK-47 at the ready as he seemed nervous as he searched the room. Coming to a halt just above him, Bernadette returned to her normal density as she dropped down behind him, her right hand reaching around to grab under his chin as her left hand grabbed the back of his helmet. With a quick motion, she pulled each hand out to the side, twisting the man’s neck and breaking it in a smooth motion.

The soldier’s body dropped to the floor, his AK-47 clanging loudly on the metal grating as it fell. A slight feeling of panic coming over her, Bernadette pulled her P90 up as she moved back up next to one of the stacks of containers, listening for any other possible soldiers in the room. Her breathing was rapid now as she waited a few moments before lowering her weapon again and kneeling down beside the stack of containers. Reaching into a bag that was slung over her shoulders and at her side, Bernadette pulled out a larger device similar to the ones she had been placing along the path to the chemical weapons storage area. Placing it between two of the cylinder containers, Bernadette activated the device as she glanced at her watch once more, trying to determine how much time she had left.

While Bernadette was busy setting the device, a Iraqi soldier crept slowly around from another stack of containers, his AK-47 held at the ready, a bayonet fixed at the front of weapon. As he spotted the young woman doing something with the containers, the soldier rushed forward, stabbing ahead of him with his bayonet. Bernadette heard the man as he rushed forward, spinning around on her toes as she increased her density and lifted up her arms in front of her. The bayonet hit her left forearm, cutting through her desert camies, but sliding off her forearm as it cut the upper part of the sleeve before sliding past her to his one of the metal canisters.

The soldier’s eyes went wide as his weapon hit one of the cylinders, thankfully not piercing it. Bernadette stood up, her right hand shooting forward to hit the soldier underneath the jaw, the sound of breaking bones could be heard from the impact as the soldier was knocked backward and into another stack of cylinders before falling to the ground unmoving. She had just one last task to quickly perform in the storeroom before she made her way out. Taking out a small digital camera, she quickly took a few pictures of some of the stacks of weapons, putting the camera away in a vest pouch once more.

With her task done here, Bernadette started towards the door to the room as she glanced over at the cuts in her sleeve, the pale flesh below unmarred by the attack. She hadn’t made it very far when the door to the room opened, the sounds of several booted feet could be heard entering the room.

Ducking down behind one of the stacks of chemical weapon canisters, Bernadette lifted up her P90 as she listened to see what the soldiers entering the room would do, glancing at her watch once more. She was down to only a few minutes to meet the mission’s window, when she heard a voice call out from the direction of the doorway, speaking in heavily accented English. “You have done very well to get in this deep woman. But now it is time for you to realize that you have no escape. Surrender yourself and you will live, otherwise you will die in this chamber.”

The large lobby of the ministry building was now in total shambles, dark smoke in the air from small electrical fires that were burning and a haze of dust in the air from the shattered concrete. The T-72 was lying upside down near the back of the lobby, having smashed through several columns that were present, the roof above looking precariously close to collapsing at any moment. Slowing down as she stepped through the massive hole the tank had made in the front of the building, broken glass crunched under Berndette’s boots. Moving quickly but cautiously, she moved into the lobby, her P90 aimed ahead of her as she scanned side to side.

Through the smoke and dust, she could make out the hallway leading back past the elevators into the building that was mentioned in her briefing. As she halted, looking towards the path towards her objective, Bernadette glanced down at the watch on her left wrist and the timer that was counting down for the mission timetable. She didn’t have much time to waste as the distinct sound of AK-47 fire snapped her attention back to the area around her. The distinct crack of rounds flying to her left had Bernadette diving to her right as she aimed her P90 towards the sound of the fire as best she could with the echoing inside the lobby.

She felt several 7.62mm rounds hit her left leg and hit, glancing off her skin leaving only the slightest bruise at her current density. The impacts stung as she started to increase her density further, providing her with more protection as she leveled her sub-machine at an Iraqi soldier that was visible just around one of the still standing columns in the lobby, his assault rifle tracking her as he continued to fire. Pulling the trigger of her weapon, Bernadette fired off a quick burst of 4.7mm rounds, most hitting the column as two hit the soldier in his right shoulder, the impact spinning him around as his weapon fell to the ground and he cried out in pain.

As the soldier disappeared behind the column, Bernadette heard more fire coming further to her right as AK rounds tore across the ground in front of her. Rolling backward and turning, the young Irish girl ended up on her stomach in the center of the lobby as she leveled her P90 at the new threat, the weapon firing as she placed his upper body in her sights. Most of the burst hit the upper body, one of the rounds catching the soldier right in the head, sending him backward as a faint red mist appeared.

Bernadette barely had a chance to watch the soldier go down as a sound to her right had her rolling onto her left side as she brought her P90 around to fire a sustained burst across the lobby to her right. Two soldiers that had moved from the other side of the T-72 were each caught by a few rounds as they cried out almost in unison and went back down onto the broken glass and chunks of concrete.

Lowering her density back closer to normal, Bernadette was quickly back on her feet, the ground below her covered with cracks caused by her increased weight. Not wasting any time, Bernadette started towards the hallway back into the ministry, lifting up her P90 as she dropped the empty clear plastic magazine from the sub-machinegun. Reaching up to a pouch on her tactical vest, Bernadette pulled out a new clear plastic fifty round magazine, the small rounds stacked sideways within the magazine, the feeding system at the end of magazine rotating them as they feed into the P90. As she approached the hallway, she passed around the side of the column that the soldier she had wounded was behind, moving slowly around the column, Bernadette came up beside the soldier who was gripping his injured shoulder tightly, his weapon still lying where it had fallen, some of his blood covering it.

The man looked up at the redheaded Irish teen, fear obvious in his eyes as his gaze locked with hers. A swift kick to the side of his head put the man onto the ground, unconscious, but still alive as Bernadette continued on towards the hallway, sliding the magazine into place. Bernadette heard the faint click as it locked into place, pulling the charging handle a few times to move rounds into the feeding system of the weapon. Just as she finished reloading her weapon, Bernadette reached the entrance to the hallway, increasing her density as she stepped out from the side, aiming the P90 down the hallway as she peered over the weapon’s sights. The dim lights in the narrow hallway flickered, but she was able to see that it was clear.

Taking a deep breath, Bernadette moved forward, moving quickly forward as her weapon moved from side to side down the hallway. Passing the first few doors, Bernadette came to a halt at the third one on her left, moving her ear close to it as she listened for any sound from within. Not hearing anything from with in, she stepped back so she was facing the door, increasing her density once more as her right foot kicked forward. The door flew open from the heavy impact, flying off its hinges before sailing across the room. Bernadette was following right after, her P90 up in front of her again as she quickly swept from left to right within the room looking for targets.

Satisfied there were no soldiers hiding behind the bookcases that lined the walls of the room, Bernadette lowered her P90 as she walked across the open middle of the room to one of the bookcases on the far side of the room. Reaching behind it with her hands Bernadette easily flung the bookcase away from the wall, the boxes filled with files and papers scattering about the room as the bookcase landed hard on the opposite side of the room, breaking apart. Behind the bookcase was a metal door, a numerical keypad located next to the doorway. Smiling faintly, Bernadette reached into one of the pouches on her tactical vest, taking out a small device that she fixed to the side of the keypad, turning it on once it was securely in place.

Lowering her density, Bernadette then walked through the doorway, stepping into a small brightly lit hallway, an elevator door waiting at the opposite end, a camera looking down at her from above the elevator. Solidifying herself once more, Bernadette fired a quick burst at the camera, shattering the lens and shattering the internal mechanisms. With that task done, she took a second small device from her vest and placed in on the side of the wall near where she had placed the first device. Walking towards the elevator, Bernadette kneeled down as she placed a third small device down beside the door.

Once it was switched on, Bernadette took another deep breath as she looked at her watch once more. Standing up, she pressed the button for the elevator, the doors sliding open as she stepped inside, looking over to the right side and pressing the lower of the two buttons on the keypad. As the elevator started downward, she once again lowered her density, again taking on the ghostlike appearance that accompanied her powers. Phasing through the top of the elevator, she flew down into the elevator shaft above it, solidifying herself once more once she had passed into the darkness. A faint snapping sound was barely audible over the sounds of the elevator car descending deep down under street level, an orange glow quickly filling the shaft from the chemlight Bernadette had just activated. Hovering beside the bottom of the doorway back to the hallway she had just left, Bernadette placed another small device on the wall near the one she had placed out in the hallway, switching it on as well.

Once the device was in place, Bernadette quickly flew back down after the elevator car, catching up to it as she stopped once more to place yet another device along the side of the elevator shaft, activating it before following after the elevator car once again. As the elevator car came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, Bernadette took out one of the last devices from the vest pocket as she placed it against the wall along the side where the elevator door would be. No sooner had she activated the device, when there was the sound of several assault rifles being fired into the elevator, something Bernadette had been anticipating.

Gripping her P90 tightly, Bernadette waited until the fire subsided, when she shifted back to her ghostlike desolid form, passing through the wall in front of her out above the elevator. The room she entered into was a large two-story room, with a security checkpoint and scanning device in front of an airlock like doorway. Above the doorway was a balcony with several soldiers standing behind a low wall, their AK-47’s aimed down at the open elevator doors while three other soldiers that were down of the floor slowly moved towards the elevator from behind the checkpoint.

All the soldiers seemed to notice her at the same time, one of them calling out to the others as they began shifting their aim towards her. Bernadette started to fly towards her right, increasing her density as she began to drop down towards the floor. Her left hand reached back to the side of her vest as her right hand aimed her P90 at the guards out in the open. She fired two quick bursts from the sub-machinegun, the rounds tearing into the two nearest soldiers as the room echoed with the gunfire and rounds began impacting along the wall just above her.

Bernadette hit the metal floor hard as her left hand moved back over towards her right, her right pinky finger grasping the pin of the fragmentation grenade she had in her left hand as she pulled the pin free. She let the spoon of the grenade pop free as the internal fuse began burning. Rolling to her right as AK rounds impacted all around her, some glancing off her back, Bernadette brought her left hand up in a wide arch as she tossed the grenade up towards the balcony. The grenade ricocheting off the wall behind the soldiers as one yelled out and started to try to move away from the grenade.

The soldier barely had time to yell when the room echoed with a loud explosion, the blast sending two of the soldiers on the balcony flying over the low wall as they fell down to the floor near Bernadette. After the grenade went off, Bernadette sat upright, aiming her P90 towards the last soldier still down on the main level. She placed her sights on the soldier just as he fired a burst at her from his AK-47. Bernadette pulled the trigger of her P90 as she quickly lowered her density, the AK rounds passing harmlessly through her as her burst his the soldier square in the chest, knocking him back into the wall before he slide back down, leaving a trail of blood on the wall.

Bernadette rose up into air as she began to scan the room to make sure everyone was down. Satisfied that there were no immediate threats, she returned to her normal density, taking out another device from the one vest pocket and placed it on the wall above the elevator door, just about where she had placed the other device on the opposite side. Activating the device, Bernadette landed in front of the elevator as she turned towards the airlock door her pulse quickening as she began to walk forward.

Antonius Justus listened to Drusus’ questions, wasting little time before answering. “It is typical for the governor of Judea to reside in the palace of Herod the Great in Caesarea Maritima on the coast. That should be more than adequate to hold all the household staff as well as many of my closest clients and their households.”

Smiling slightly as Drusus halted his questions, Antonius Justus stood as he replied. “My daughter can help give you an idea of the types of food I most prefer, but you shouldn’t worry about that just yet. You have plenty of time to plan for that over the next few days.” A female slave in her mid twenties came into the room as he continued. “This is Soria, she can show you to the quarters that will be yours while we remain in Rome. Now I really must be going I am afraid, would not do to keep Caesar waiting. Until this evening.”

With that he started back towards the back of the house where his chambers would be located. The slave girl stood quietly, waiting for Drusus to indicate he was ready to see his guest room.

Wind howled past her as Bernadette approached terminal velocity, falling through the cold night air towards the ever-nearing clouds that obscured her view of the city below. Her hair that stuck out from the helmet she was wearing whipped wildly behind her as she kept her arm in close, her right hand holding her FN P90 up against her side, to keep wind resistance down. If it hadn’t been for the goggles that she had on, she wouldn’t be able to see anything from the wind that would be blowing in her face. As it was, her eyes were already filled with the tears that she had struggled to hold back inside the transport.

The memories of the deaths of most of her fellow Project Deadalus members, and her best friend Susan Eddings’ institutionalization after she had gone insane was still very fresh for the eighteen year old Irish girl. Over the last few months, she had been able to shut out the pain for the most part, deadening herself to everything to some degree. Right after the mission that had ended Project Deadalus, the military had decided to send her off to help in the operations in Afghanistan, allowing her to focus her anger and rage on the enemy there. The missions in Afghanistan had helped her push back her feelings, an outward appearance of having come to terms with everything that had happened to her.

She had managed to get on with her life, gaining acceptance to Oxford University studying International Politics thanks to the help of her adopted father, Susan’s father, Lord Eddings. But despite the outward face she put on for the world, deep down, Bernadette still felt great pain around the lose of her best friend and teammates, and a great deal of guilt. Every once and awhile, that pain broke through, though so far she had been able to keep it to times when she was alone or visiting Susan at the hospital she had been placed in.

Closing her eyes as she let the last tears run down her cheeks for now, Bernadette forced herself to focus back on the task at hand. She was dropping into the heart of a war, and couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by her emotions. Opening her eyes again after a few moments, she noticed that she was only seconds away from the clouds over Baghdad. Lifting up her left arm, she checked the altimeter that was on her wrist as well as the clock showing her the mission time. So many things about this mission were very time sensitive, so she had to make sure she was staying on schedule once down in the city, hopefully nothing would happen that would delay any other elements of the mission.

Putting her arm back up against her side just as she entered the clouds, Bernadette couldn’t see anything as she felt the moisture from the clouds against her body as she continued to freefall. The passage through the cloud cover only took about half a minute before Bernadette emerge out the other side, her desert camouflage uniform very damp from the passage through. Below her was an amazing site, the sprawling city of Baghdad, still lit up against the dark ground by the city lights that reflected out onto the two rives that flowed beside it. But their was other illumination in the city at the present time, large flashes of light indicated the detonation of cruise missiles and smart bombs that were part of the current bombing mission by coalition aircraft.

Bernadette had know that there would be a bombing run made to cover the approach of her aircraft over the city, but she hadn’t realized that they would time things so closely. The planning that must have gone into keeping a path open in the airspace over the city while still carrying out some precision strikes against key targets must have been difficult. But it had been done, at least she hoped that the crew of the C-17 made it safely back to base, but so far things had gone smoothly. There were a few stray flashes of anti-aircraft fire that streaked up into the sky from the ground. Thankfully none of it was anyway near her as the ground continued to rush towards her.

Taking one last deep breath of the dry sterile air from the breath mask, Bernadette unhooked the mask, breathing in the smoke filled air of the capital city of Iraq. Coughing slightly, Bernadette began to use her mutant power of flight to slow her descent towards the streets of the besieged city. As she drew closer, Bernadette shifted her bodies density, lowering it till she was completely insubstantial, to protect herself from any stray anti-aircraft fire. She took on a ghost like appearance as she phased, the reason for her code name with Project Deadalus, Thevshi, the Irish word for ghost.

The anti-aircraft guns below her went silent as she continued to slow her decent, a few fires visible beneath the plums of smoke the bombs had caused. Scanning the city, Bernadette quickly picked out the palace, as she began tracing the path from that obvious structure towards her target. It didn’t take long for her to identify the target of her mission, Bernadette banking to her left slightly as she adjusted her flight path towards the government building.

Gliding down silently, Bernadette dropped down into an alleyway across from the building as she returned to her normal density, lifting up her P90 as her feet touched the ground, scanning the alley to insure she was alone. The alley was dark, and filled with garbage and rubble, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else present as Bernadette slowly turned around, her P90 held in both hands as she aimed it in front of her. The sounds of fire trucks and other emergency vehicles could be heard in the night air, otherwise the city was ominously quite, not even an air-raid siren sounding.

Moving over towards the entrance to the alley, Bernadette came to a halt just within the shadows of the alley, peering out into the deserted streets beyond. There were a few parked cars, but otherwise, the street in front of the Agricultural Ministry building was empty, no pedestrians or soldiers obvious from where she stood. Moving forward a little more, Bernadette scanned down street each direction, looking for any movement. As she looked to her left, she spotted a Russian made T-72 tank parked up near a building with sandbags stacked up around it.

“Bloody ‘ell.” She mumbled to herself as she ducked back into the alley. There was no immediately response from the tank, so it was likely that they had not spotted her, or if they had, had not regarded her as a hostile, after all, the nearest coalition forces were a good sixty or seventy miles South of Baghdad still. Bernadette sighed as she considered her options. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t deal with the tank, there was nothing they could do to hurt her, but taking them out would be noisy, and would only cause more troops to be sent to here, making her mission more difficult.

Looking back over at the entrance to the ministry, she could make out some forms moving inside the building. There was likely a good deal of surveillance around building, especially if what her superiors believed was located inside was correct. Now that she though about it, things were likely to get rather busy quickly, so she might as well take out the tank to start things off. Looking back out into the street, Bernadette looked over at the tank once more, sitting just off the street, a great steel beast that seemed almost peaceful at the moment.

Lowering her density once more, Bernadette flew out from the alleyway, heading directly towards the tank about seven feet above the ground. She was halfway to the T-72 before there was any sign that they had spotted her. An Iraqi soldier appeared out of the top hatch of the tank, manning the 7.62mm PKT machinegun mounted on top of the turret. Swinging the weapon towards Bernadette he let lost two quick bursts, tracers lancing out towards the flying girl, passing harmlessly through her ghostlike form to hit the building behind her. The Iraqi soldier paused briefly as he tried to determine the effectiveness of his attack before he fired a longer burst, the result being the same as Bernadette flew towards the front of the tank.

As the soldier halted fire, Bernadette increased her density till she weighed over twenty tons, her momentum carrying her down onto the front of the tank. The impact was slightly jarring, the ground beneath the tank breaking under the impact, sinking the front of the tank several feet into the ground, the sound of one of the treads snapping audible over the sound of shattering concrete. The soldier in the turret was slammed forward into the side of the hatch, stunning him as he fell back down into the armored vehicle.

Bernadette slid off the front of the tank her feet touching down onto the broken concrete in front of it, breaking several pieces under her twenty ton weight. Looking off to her right back towards the Agricultural Ministry building, she saw several guards emerge from the front of the building, trying to discover what was going on in the streets. Letting her P90 hang by its sling, Bernadette reached underneath the front of the T-72, her fingers squeezing into the hard steel of the vehicle as she shifted her weight slightly, as she leaned back and began lifting.

There was a groan of metal as the tank lifted up out of the hole the force of her impact onto the front had sunk it into as Bernadette lifted the nearly forty five metric ton combat vehicle over her head. The guards in front of the ministry building all came to a sudden halt, no doubt looks of shock on their faces as the took in the scene before them. Bernadette didn’t waste anytime to check the looks on their faces however, as she turned to her right, taking one step forward as she flung the tank towards the front of the ministry building with all her considerable strength.

The main battle tank tumbled end over end as it flew through the air, the guards in front of the building trying to move out of the improvised missile’s path. Many not making it before the vehicle smashed through the front of the building, knocking out the windows and a large section of a wall. Bernadette quickly recovered from the strain of throwing the massive object as she started forward, lowering her density some to conserve her endurance as she brought her P90 up in front of her once more as she aimed in at the closest Iraqi that had avoided being hit by the tank.

Firing off a quick three round burst, Bernadette waited till she saw the soldier go down before she shifted her aim towards the next one, still rushing forward as she fired another burst. The 4.7mm rounds tore into the man, sending him backward onto the pavement in the middle of street. One of the Iraqi guards fired a burst from his AK-47, a couple of the rounds glancing harmlessly off Bernadette as she shifted her aim towards him, a quick burst silencing his fire as she ran over to the hole she had made in the front of the ministry building.

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T-72= http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/l...901159_JPG.jpg

Lucilla gave a slight smile as the cow herder explained his reasoning for stating that Berit was very skilled. “That is not a bad way to come to a conclusion. There are many times that people are confronted with an obvious answer but find ways to overlook it.” As she finished, the redheaded young woman came up the stairs to the observation area, brushing a strand of hair from her face and whipping some sweat from her brow. The raven haired woman gave the cow herder a warm smile as she stood. “I am sorry to have to cut our discussion short, but it is time we should be leaving, we don’t have much time before we are due at the races at the Circus Maxiums.”

She then made her way over towards Berit who was waiting by the stairs, her gaze fixed on the cow herder, recognizing him from the day before. The Celtic woman could feel that she would be a bit sore come the morning, but it had been well worth it. Lucilla gave her a sly smile as she said, “I think sometimes that you enjoy these training sessions so much as you often get a chance to roll around on the ground with such physically fit men.”

Berit looked at the other woman as a grin came to her face as well. “And I need to find an excuse such as this to be able to do that?” The redheaded woman sighed as she brushed some dirt and sand off the back of her arm. “What I need right now however is a bath.” Lucilla’s smiled widened as the two made their way back down the stairs and towards the exit of the gladiator school. “Well, we just happen to be close to the bath house Trajan had built, one of the grandest in Rome. There is still about an hour of time for when it is reserved for use by women. We should have enough time for a nice bath before we meet my father at the Circus Maximus.”

Berit smiled at the thought as the two left the school. As soon as they were out the door, she leaned in towards Lucilla and spoke in a low voice, using Gaelic. “That man sweeping the observation area, he was the vendor I bought that leather bracelet from yesterday, the one that gave me the statue of the raven to give to you.” Lucilla looked at her slightly surprised as they started towards the bathhouse of Trajan. “Really? He did seem to have some keen insights into things. To bad I didn’t know before hand, I would liked to have asked him more about the statue and how he knew about my connection with my raven, if indeed he did.” Though she tried to sound as if she was merely curious about the cow herder, she was feeling there were a few to many coincidences surrounding him.

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Artius gave Brutus a slight smile as he commented about the long ocean journey possibly interfering with the training of the legionnaires and asked how long before they would leave. “The journey will interfere with some training, there is obviously not nearly enough room for maneuvers such as those,” he pointed to the men marching and shifting formations as a century of them stopped and dropped down into a shield wall, the front rank forming the front of the wall while the back ranks moved their shields to cover above. Overall the maneuver went smoothly, though there were a few places where the shields did not interlock quite quickly enough, drawing the attention of the centurions overseeing the training who rushed up to yell at those who had been two slow.

Artius let out a chuck before continuing. “But there will still be the opportunity for some training, mainly sparring on the voyage. As for how soon we depart, we should all be on our way within five days.” He then looked over towards the larger man as he asked, “so tribunal, would you like to join in some of this training for some time? Or perhaps continue becoming more aquatinted with the camp?”

(ooc By the way, anyone interested in reading some about the character Berit is a version of, you can read about a modern version of her in the story I have started posting in my new thread, Facets.)

Duty

Oxford England, 10:15 AM Greenwich Mean Time

It was a cold rainy day in Oxford, typical of the time of year. The weather was keeping most of the students at the university indoors except when they had to hurry to their classes for the day. Two figures making their way through the campus stood out from the few others that rushed past them to get out of the drizzling rain. Dressed in dark green uniforms and trenchcoats, the two men were obviously Royal Army, calmly making their way towards their destination. Up ahead stood the residents’ hall for University College students. The old buildings were of a Tudor style, the ground floor was stone, with white walls and dark brown trim rising up to peaked roofs. The windows were for the most part rather large, rimed with the same dark brown trim that was present on the rest of the building.

The two men stopped for a moment looking up at the building as one looked down at small note book for a moment before looking back up and pointing towards one of the doors that lead into the resident’s’ hall. Walking into the entry to the building, the two men closed the umbrellas they were carrying, shaking them out briefly before closing the door into the hall. In the long corridor that went back into the building, there were a few students gathered, all turning and regarding the two men with curious looks, some turning somewhat hostile rather quickly. Ignoring the looks from the students present, the two men made their way over towards the main stairwell, climbing up to the second floor of the hall.

Walking a short way down the hall, the came to the door of one of the rooms, the two men glancing at each other for a moment before one reached up to knock loudly at the door. There was a brief moment before they heard the faint sound of movement inside the room and a voice call out. “Who the bloody ‘ell is it?” One of the uniformed men replied, his crisp English accent sounding like he had infinite patience. “Bernadette, its Lieutenant Colonel Keller, I need to speak with you.”

There were more sounds of movement inside the room before the two men heard the door lock open and the door opened part way, an eighteen year old girl standing by the opening wearing a green bathrobe. Her long red hair was loose around her shoulders as her bright green eyes peered at the two men, a look of annoyance obvious on her face. “What can I do fer ye Colonel?” She asked, her accent a strange mix of Irish and English. Lieutenant Colonel Keller looked at the teenage girl before him for a moment as he quickly decided not to ask her if they could come in. “Sorry to bother you Bernadette, but the Ministry of Defense has requested that you report to London immediately.”

Bernadette leaned against the doorframe as she looked at the Army officer. “I though I was goin’ ta sit this one out?” Lieutenant Colonel Keller’s expression remained unchanging as he replied. “The situation has changed I am afraid. We have a car waiting, Major Paterson and I will wait for you downstairs.” There was a slight frown on Bernadette’s face, but she knew that she was in no position to argue. For the last six years of her life, the Ministry of Defense had controlled all aspects of her life, and that had not changed any even after she had enrolled at Oxford to study International Politics last fall. The Ministry was giving her plenty of leeway to get her degree, but they still reserved the right to pull her in for operations as they needed her. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She replied quietly before shutting the door.

As the door shut, Bernadette sighed slightly as a voice off towards the window spoke out. “What the hell was that all about Bernadette?” Turning away from the door, Bernadette looked over at her bed, which was over near the large window that looked out on the campus. Sitting up in the bed, half underneath the sheets, was the young man she was currently involved with, Landon Storrs, the son of a prominent member of the House of Lords. With a feeling of guilt forming in her gut, Bernadette made her way over towards the dresser near the bed as she replied. “I need ta go ta London fer a few days, sorry about this love.”

Landon turned as she moved, keeping his gaze on her, a suspicious look on his face. “A few days? What is going on Bernadette? They said they were from the Ministry of Defense. Are you in some kind of trouble? I can call my dad..” Bernadette turned quickly and put a hand to his lips, quieting him as she looked down with a smile. “If I was in trouble, don’ ye think me adopted father could take care o’ it?” She said, referring to Lord Eddings, the English Earl who had adopted her over a year ago and was also a member of the House of Lords. Bending down slightly, Bernadette looked into Landon’s eyes as she gently kissed him and then pulled back. “I can’ tell you anymore love, but rest assured, I’m not in any kind o’ trouble. I will be back as soon as I can, now I need ta shower and get goin’.” Standing back up with her clothes in her arms, Bernadette started off towards the bathroom in the room as Landon followed after her with his eyes, dozens of questions still swirling around inside his head.

A short while later, Bernadette descended down the stairs of the residents’ hall into the main hallway, quickly spotting Lieutenant Colonel Keller and Major Paterson. Dressed in blue jeans and a green sweater, Bernadette had a brown leather jacket on as well to help with the numbing cold outside in the continuous rain. Making her way towards the exit as the two Army officers came over to join her, Major Paterson held open the door for her as Lieutenant Colonel Keller opened his umbrella to protect them from the rain as they started towards the waiting car.

Iraqi Airspace: 01:47 AM local time (10: 47 PM Greenwich Mean Time)

Rumbling through the dark night sky over Iraq, the Royal Air Force C-17 Globemaster transport continued along its course over the Tigris-Euphrates Valley. In the cockpit lit only a green tactical light, RAF Flight Lieutenant Donald Weller concentrated on staying within the carefully prescribed flight path he had been given prior to take off. Flight Lieutenant Weller could not help but wonder what was so important about his unusual passenger and her unknown mission that would require him to fly over the city of Baghdad in the midst of sorties being flown by other coalition aircraft.

Glancing at the GPS among the numerous instruments in front of him, Flight Lieutenant Weller noted their current distance from the drop point. Reaching down, he keyed the internal intercom, calling back to the cargo area of the aircraft. “We are five minutes from release point, stand by to open cargo doors.” Back in the large open cargo area of the aircraft, the senior crew chief stood up as he received the orders from Flight Lieutenant Weller. Making his way back towards the rear of the aircraft, he signaled to the other crewmember back near the rear of the aircraft. Then turning towards the right side of the aircraft, Flight Sergeant Fawkes regarded the lone individual sitting in one of the aircraft’s jumpseats.

He still half felt that this had to be some sort of joke, save for the fact that they were now over Iraq and approaching Baghdad during nighttime bombing runs from other aircraft. This young girl seemed so completely out of place, though she was dressed in desert camouflage similar to what was issued to other British Army units currently operating inside Southern Iraq. She also had a FN P90 in her lap, the weapon obviously real enough, though somewhat unusual. And then there was the fact that she wasn’t carrying a parachute. In fact, she was only carrying a light amount of gear, what was on her combat webbing and a small pack. Flight Sergeant Fawkes had seen many things in his years in the RAF, but this one had to be the strangest yet.

Shaking his head slightly Flight Sergeant Fawkes continued over towards the young woman who looked over at him in the dim green tactical light that illuminated the cargo bay. Unsure how exactly to address her, Flight Sergeant Fawkes decided to just regard her as someone important, there had sure been enough brass involved in delivering her to the airbase in England before their departure. “Mum, we are five minutes from the drop point.”

Bernadette nodded as she stood up from the jumpseat, checking her equipment one last time before making her way over towards the rear of the aircraft. The other crew member was waiting there, looking at her for a moment before glancing back at Flight Sergeant Fawkes who just shrugged. Keying his headset, Fawkes called back up to the cockpit. “Standing by in cargo bay to open rear door.” Up in the cockpit of the C-17, Flight Lieutenant Weller continued to keep them on their fixed course as he responded. “Copy that, switch to oxygen and stand by to open cargo doors.” As he spoke, Weller strapped the oxygen mask into place on his flight helmet as his co-pilot did the same.

Back in the cargo bay, the two crewmembers put their oxygen masks in place as Bernadette did the same, turning on the small canister in a pouch on the front of her gear. The dry air that she began breathing was a distinct contrast, bringing feelings of nervousness to Bernadette finally. The entire flight she had tried to think as little as possible about the operation as she could, and even now it was not all she could think about. A feeling of guilt and pain stabbed at her heart as she thought that only about nine months ago she would not have been alone here, the other members of Project Deadalus would have been going in as well. Now she was the only one left, at least the only one left who was still sane.

As soon as everyone inside the aircraft had equipped their self contained breathing gear, Flight Sergeant Fawkes signaled the other crew member to open the rear loading ramp, hooking a safety line to a portion of the outer frame of the aircraft. Holding on to a part of the bulkhead near him, the crew member pressed the button to open the ramp, causing a red flashing light to go off as an alarm sounded and the mechanical gears began to sound to life. Bernadette grabbed hold to the bulkhead beside her as the air pressure inside the aircraft was immediately sucked out as it depressurized. The plane jerked about some as Flight Lieutenant Weller fought to keep the aircraft steady, soon leveling out once more as the plane pressurized to the outside.

Cold chilling wind blew around Bernadette and the two crew chiefs as she let go of the bulkhead once the plane had repressurized. Walking slowly out onto the open ramp, Bernadette looked down at the dark clouds several thousand feet below them. Looking back over at Flight Sergeant Fawkes, she could see he was listening to some communication from the pilot as his eyes met hers and he began a countdown. Taking deep breaths of the dry, sterile air from the oxygen mask, Bernadette waited for the countdown, adrenaline starting to pump through her as she glanced out the back of the aircraft once more. The moments seemed to last an eternity before Fawkes finished his countdown, yelling out as he did. “Go! Go! Go!” Bernadette didn’t hesitate as she flung herself out the back of the aircraft, quickly disappearing into the dark sky as she began to freefall from 35,000 feet.
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C-17 Globemaster= http://www.raf.mod.uk/equipment/c-17.html
FN P90= http://world.guns.ru/smg/smg13-e.htm

(ooc This thread is one I plan to use for short stories about my various characters as I have some come up. The first two are ones I wrote awhile ago, 2003 to be exact, on the old rping boards.

The first one uses the first character I roleplayed on those old rping boards for CoH, starting back in 2001. It is an alternate version of the character, who is named Thevshi. Back in the early days, when CoH was still very early in development, what we had been told about the powers that would be available in the game was quite different, density control, to both increase and decrease, was one of those. Thought that is kinda in game in some forms, density increase and phase shift, what was talked about initially was very different. And Thevshi was in fact a character I had played in Champions years before as well.

This first story takes place during the invasion of Iraq in early 2003. Though I know there are many mixed emotions about that event and the current US forces over there, I wrote this not to take a particular side in the issue, but in honor of those serving in our armed forces, and those of our allies.

I hope people enjoy this and following stories, please feel free to comment.)

Antonius Justus watched as Drusus reviewed the contract, noting that he did indeed know how to read. He wasted little time responding when the man asked when he should start. “Might as well be immediately.” The governor replied. “Though there might not be to great a need for your services with all the dinners and events we have been asked to attend, I am sure the household staff would appreciate any effort you could make to improve their meals.”

Taking the contract once Drusus has signed it, the governor signed it as well before rolling it back up and tying it closed. “My daughter will likely not be back until later this evening, after the races. I myself will be departing in not to long to take care of some business and then attend as well. If you have any personal matters that need to be dealt with before we depart, today would be a good day to start on them. You will of course have ample opportunity to deal with them over the next several days as well. If you require any accommodations until we sail East, the household staff has been instructed to prepare you a guest room if you request it.”

“Are there any questions you have of me before I must depart to attend to some other matters?” Though Antonius Justus seemed very business like and ready to move on to the next matter, there was a distinct sincerity in his face as he asked the last question.

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Though the overseer of the gladiatorial school seemed appalled that the cow herder would dare to address his guest, he had not time to berate the hired cleaner before Lucilla looked over and gave a slight smile as she replied. “There may be other women who fight as well, but I would not warrant there are many. She has trained with several of the finest swordsmen from the legions over the last six years.”

The overseer seemed to relax as his important guest seemed unbothered by being addressed by the worker. Lucilla had learned long ago however that outside of Rome, allowing yourself to be more approachable by the common citizens helped to lessen potential animosity. Her father felt this was important, and it was one of the reasons that he made sure that both her and himself were taught to be at least able to carry on basic conversations in what ever the more common languages of the area they were living in happened to be. In face, the raven haired woman was rather confident that on the long ocean trip to their new home, there would be tutors to get them started on whatever local languages happened to be in the area. She knew Hebrew and Aramaic were two commonly spoken in those parts, but Parthian was also another possibility.

Keeping her dark eyes fixed on the cow herder, she continued, “but I am sure you have the opportunity to see many great fighters if you work here often. Though I would imagine Berit tends to stand out from many of those for many reasons.”

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Artius gave Brutus a grin as he tested the spatha, the weapon fitting the large man perfectly. “Then I would not make any changes to it Tribunal.” Giving a slight nod to the weaponsmith, the centurion then lead the new tribunal away from the clanging of hammers on metal that seemed constantly present around the weaponsmiths’ area.

“I am sure you can understand that the many weaponsmiths are kept quite busy by the demands of keeping the weapons of the legion in working order. Just the practice with the pilums by the soldiers keeps dozens of them busy every day restraightening the iron shaft leading to the tips. But then they are designed to bend when thrown, so they might hook into an enemy’s shield, making it useless for defense due to the added weight.”

The centurion lead Brutus out one of the side gates to the camp, past the palisade and trench towards an open field. Gathered in the field were hundreds of men, all obviously carrying out some form of training. One group, the closest to the gate, were sparing in pairs with rudius, wooden versions of the gladius. The sound of the wood clacking together as the scores of pairs spared was almost a roar.

Beyond that group were at least another two hundred men or more, all in full armor, with the square shields and pilums in their hands, marching across the field as the shifted their square formations into other configurations and then back into the more tight squares. Atrius stopped so they could watch the maneuvers. “It takes a great deal of practice to be able to quickly and smoothly change formations in the heat of battle. But it is a key element of our legions’ success, for I have seen few enemies that can so quickly adapt to changes on the battlefield as we can.”

‘These men,” he said, indicating both the group sparring and those drilling, “are from the 7th and 9th cohorts. In most any legion, those cohorts will be made up of the newest recruits. These came to us just a few weeks ago after we arrived in Italia, replacements for our losses in Germania. But if at all possible, all the legionnaires train daily to continually hone their skills. Though with the moving of camps and preparations to depart to the East in the last two days, that has been a little harder to accomplish.”

When Drusus arrived at the home of Antonius Justus, he was let through the main entrance by one of the governor’s slaves, who lead him into the atrium of the large house. As would be expected of so wealthy a man, the atrium was large, containing many decorations. But, unlike some wealthy and important individuals, thought the decorations were obviously expensive, they were not exorbitant. Everything seemed perfectly in place, producing something of an elegant simplicity.

In the center of the atrium, beneath the open sky above was the impluvium, a shallow sunken pool to catch rainwater. Like many, it was beautifully decorated with colorful tiles that seemed to flow with the water. Several rooms led off the atrium, and opposite the entrance was the lectus genialis, a bed that stood for the sanctity of marriage in Roman culture. Past this, the tablinum was visible, the fine curtain that was used to close it off from the atrium drawn back.

With fine wood furniture decorating the tablinum, it was apparent that Antonius Justus carried on the old tradition of using the room as a study. He was currently seated behind a large desk, reading over some scrolls as his slave lead Drusus into the room. Antonius Justus looked up, studying Drusus with his stoic expression, his eyes somewhat piercing in their gaze.

With a wave of his hand, the slave quickly made his exit as the governor spoke. “Good morning Drusus. I am sure you are wondering why I have asked to meet with you. There is much I have to try to accomplish before the races Caesar is honoring me with this afternoon so I will get quickly to the point.”

“As you know, I am soon to head East, to act as governor of the provinces of Judea and Arabia Petraea. While I do welcome the opportunity to try the new foods common in region, I would also prefer a cook well trained in more traditional dishes. Ovius Plautus has spoken highly of you and that you are an accomplished cook, a rare trade for a freedman to try to pursue.”

“I wish to hire you as my household cook to travel with me to the East. My daughter, Lucilla, whom I believe you spoke with briefly last night, handles much of the day to day affairs of the household in place of her deceased mother. As a freedman, you would not fall under the normal hierarchy that is in place for the slave members of the household, so you will answer directly to my daughter and myself. I am offering you a salary of ten thousand sestertii per year and you will of course be provided accommodations and meals. I have hear a contract drafted for three years of service, with the possibility of extending that should we both wish too. If not, then I will pay cost to have you transported back to Rome, or anywhere else in the empire you wish to go at that time.” Antonius Justus picked up one of the scrolls lying on his desk, a ribbon holding it closed. “If you wish to have it looked over by a lawyer before signing, you are more than welcome. Ovius Plautus would likely be willing to do so for you.”

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After the measurements for the armor alterations were done, Tuccius lead Brutus back into the main heart of the camp. Finding another centurion, Tuccius called him over. The man appeared to be in his late twenties, seeming to have a fair amount of experience himself as he stopped by the priumus pilus. “Atrius, this is Brutus Marius, one of our new tribunals appointed by Governor Antonius Justus.” Tuccius said to the new centurion.

The veteran primus pilus then looked over at Brutus as he continued, “This is Atrius, the pilus prior of the 8th cohort. He will see that you get your galdius and have the stable master assign a horse for your use. Then he will show you around the camp to get you familiar with the set up and go over more of the organization of a legion.” Looking back to Atrius, the priums pilus asked, “do you understand all that Artius?”

Atrius went slightly stiff, standing tall as he crisply replied. “Of course primus pilus. The new tribunal is in good hands with me.” Tuccius nodded before setting off once again, leaving the two men together. Atrius then relaxed ever so slightly as he looked over to Brutus. “I am honored to meet you Brutus Marius, I had the honor to begin my enlistment in the legions in VIII Augusta when Antonius Justus lead us and another legion against the Celts in Britania. He was a great and noble man, and an excellent commander, to have him sponsor you speaks very highly.”

“As the primus pilus stated, I am the pilus prior of the 8th cohort, which means I am the second centurion of that cohort. But do not let the lower cohort number mislead you. In any legion, the 8th cohort consists of the select troops of the legion. The only cohort with finer soldiers is the 1st, which the primus pilus is the lead centurion of. Come, we can talk more while we get you your weapon and a horse.” Artius said as he started towards the weaponsmiths’ tents.

It was mid morning when Lucilla and Berit arrived at the gladiatorial training fields near the Roman Coliseum. The overseer of the school came out to meet the two young women, greeting them politely. “Welcome great lady, to the finest gladiator school in the empire. We are honored that your father would think of us with his most unusual request. Where is the slave you wish to participate in the training this morning?”

Lucilla rather doubted that this was the finest gladiator school in all of the Roman Empire, but she wasn’t about to question the overseer’s claim. From what she could already see of the gladiators in the courtyard beyond, it should more than serve Berit’s purpose. “My father is grateful for your willingness to accommodate his request. My maid servant Berit here is the one that wishes to spar.” She said, gesturing to the redheaded young woman behind her.

The overseer looked at the slim redheaded woman for a moment, a confused look on his face. “I am sorry my lady, have I misunderstood you and your father’s request? Are you wishing to breed her with one of our gladiators?” The raven haired woman couldn’t help but let a faint smile come to her face as she replied. “No, you have not misunderstood us at all, we wish for her to fight some of your gladiators, preferably the best in the school.”

“You cannot be serious my lady, she would not last a minute against even the worst of my fighters.” The overseer started as Lucilla held up one hand to stop him. “We are very serious. Do not worry about Berit, she will be just fine. Now my father has offered to compensate the school generously for making this special arrangement for us, shall I go back to him and tell him you do not intend to fulfill your end of the deal?”

The overseer finally relented, though Lucilla could still see he felt this was an insane request. “Of course not. Forgive me my lady, it is just such an unusual request. If you please, there is a viewing balcony above where we can watch the training matches.” He said, gesturing towards some stairs leading to the upper floor. Lucilla smiled at the man as she started towards the stairs. “Thank you. Berit will require a place to change.”

“Of course, there are rooms back that way she can use.” The overseer said, gesturing towards the back of the building. He then lead Lucilla upstairs to the viewing balcony. Berit made her way back to one of the rooms the overseer had indicated. Stripping out of her stola, she folded it neatly and sat it on the bench in the room. She then pulled a green wool tunic over her head, very similar to the type worn by Roman legionnaires under their armor. Taking off the more feminine sandals she currently had on, she put on the ankle high sandals that were worn by the legionnaires as well, though these were made for her smaller feet. Once she was finished dressing, she made her way out to the training yard, tying back her long red hair as she went.

As she walked out into the open courtyard, Berit took a rudis, a wooden training swords, from a rack and moved out into the center of the training ground. Standing opposite her about ten feet away was one of the gladiators of the school, a man at over a foot taller than her and probably close to twice her weight. The other gladiators had stopped their training to watch the unusual match up. “Be careful Tyros.” One of them called out. “If you break her, you will likely have to work off the money to pay for her.”

There was some laughter from the others gathered as Berit swung her rudis in a few crossing swings in front of her, getting a feel for the balance of the weapon. She then set into her ready stance, her weapon arm bent back so the blade was almost parallel to the ground and extended to her left shoulder. Her left arm was in front of her, bent at the elbow. The gladiator named Tyros regarded her stance for a few moments before he assumed a similar one. “Someone has taught you how to hold that sword girl. Let’s see if they taught you more.”

Without any other warning, Tyros lurched forward, swinging his rudis at the young woman’s torso. Clack, clack, clack. Echoed in the courtyard as their wooden swords hit together as Berit shuffled backward, easily blocking each of the larger man’s attacks. Tyros stopped his attacks as he started circling towards Berit’s left, realizing this might not be as easy as it first seemed. Though she was much smaller than him, she was very quick, and skilled with wielding the sword.

With a quick movement, she spun to her left, her sword coming arm coming up above her shoulder as she spun, to launch a slash at Tyros’ upper body at the completion of the spin. Clack. Tyros blocked the attack and was about to try a counter when Berit quickly pulled back her rudis and swinging it in another attack, this time down towards Tyros’ front leg. Clack, he managed to block the attack just inside the knee. Clack, clack. He fended off two more quick attacks before he back pedaled far enough to disengage from her.

The redheaded girl was circling to her left as Tyros moved in the same direction, studying her a bit closer now. She was very quick, and her smaller size was actually proving something of an advantage, allowing her to strike low on his body, something Tyros had to work a bit harder at defending. But the experienced gladiator had an idea now how to deal with her.

After a moment, he started forward again, swinging his sword in an attack he knew she would easily counter. Clack, the two rudis smashed together, but Tyros continued straight forward, his left hand shooting up to grab the wrist of the girl’s sword arm. To his surprise, she grabbed his wrist with her left hand as well. Big mistake. He thought as he continued towards her to use his size and strength to force her to the ground.

Tyros’ felt a slight feeling of surprise that she didn’t realize her predicament and try to backpedal away to stay on her feet and instead simply stepped back with her right foot to try and resist his overbearing. The bigger surprise was when his forward momentum completely stopped, as if he were trying to push against a stone wall. Looking down at the girl as he tried to push against her again, Tyros saw a faint smile come to her lips as she shifted her weight and pushed back.

From that point on, things happened so fast Tyros barely knew what was going on before it was too late. He felt the powerful push of this slim girl and felt his feet leave the ground as he went backwards. Landing flat on his back on the ground of the training yard, he knew he had to quickly get back up and be ready to defend himself but felt a sandaled foot slam down on his right forearm, pinning it to the ground. A knee hit his chest, forcing him back onto the ground as he saw the redhead above him. With graceful quickness, she flipped the rudis in her hand, reversing her grip so the point was down and drove it straight towards him, halting it at the last second just above his throat.

For a moment, there was a stunned silence from the watching gladiators when one of them called out another joke. “I suppose there are worse ways to die wouldn’t you say Tyros?” That caused more laughter from the crowd as Berit climbed off the beaten gladiator. Tyros climbed back to his feet, rubbing his forearm and chest a bit. The redheaded girl seemed ready to begin again, which suited him just fine. He had to redeem himself after that embarrassing defeat, and now he knew what would not work with this very unusual opponent.

Clack, clack, clack. Their rudis rang out against each other as the two combatants alternated attacking and defending as they began their battle once more. Tyros was again working hard to defend against the many low attacks that Berit launched at him, but was waiting for a particular opportunity to present itself. Suddenly it presented itself, as the girl stuck at his head. Clack, Tyros blocked the attack and again grabbed her right wrist with his left hand, but this time, he had something different in mind.

Pulling in his left foot, he swept the girl’s feet from under her, holding her right wrist as she fell towards the ground. He started to pull his right arm back to place his sword at her stomach once she hit the ground, but her left hand came up to grab his wrist before he could get it all the way back, pulling the wooden sword away from her body.

As the redheaded woman hit the ground, Tyros realized that by moving his sword away from where he wanted it, she had likely removed any immediate advantage from him. Not seeing any way to disengage now, he decided to try and press what little advantage he had by still being on his feet. Trying to hold her right arm out and away, Tyros began to try and pull his right arm up to put the rudis to her throat. He struggled with all his strength , but was unable to make any headway against her. Suddenly, she pulled with her left hand and pushed with her right, causing the gladiator to fall to his right.

As he hit the ground, she rolled up onto him and pulled her right arm in as she pushed his right arm inward with her left. Before he even realized what had happened, the two wooden swords were crossed over his throat, the edges pushed up against his skin. The redheaded girl looked down at him with her bright green eyes for a few moments before she climbed off his chest and let him back to his feet.

They fought a few more times before another, fresh gladiator was paired off with Berit. Finally, after about an hour, Berit felt as if it had been enough for the day. A few of the matches had ended in a draw, but most had been won by the slim redheaded girl. As she thanked them and made her way from the training yard, Berit knew there were a number of reasons she had done so well. One was obviously her superior strength, though she didn’t look capable of being that strong. The other had to do with the gladiators’ style of fighting. While they were well skilled, gladiatorial combat was something of a dance between the combatants, a strange combination of deadly fighting and showmanship. Berit on the other hand had been trained in the way of the legion, a cold, ruthless means of killing where it didn’t matter how pretty it was to watch, so long as it left the opponent dead at the end.

The Legionnaires on duty at the entrance to the camp looked over Brutus’ letter when he presented it for entrance. The senior guard ordered one of the others to lead the new tribunal to the legatus. The soldier started down the main pathway through the many rows of tents to either side. As they went, more tents were currently be set up and all other sorts of activity was taking place within the camp.

The two were passing through the open are in the center of the camp, the forum, when a man in his early thirties, with a grizzled look and a faint scar on the left side of his neck came towards them. The man was wearing the armor of a centurion, with the crested helm and red cloak. The solider quickly handed the centurion Brutus’ letter of introduction. The centurion regarded the letter for a moment and then Brutus, almost scrutinizing the taller man before he waved off the soldier back to his post. “This way Brutus Marius, the legatus will be happy to know the first of our new tribunals has arrived.”

The centurion then lead Brutus back to a large tent at the North end of the camp, just past an alter that had been set up. Once inside there was a large table with several rolls of parchment spread out across it. Looking over a few papers was man in his late thirties, with a weathered face and several visible scars along his forearms. He was dressed in the armor of a legatus. He looked over at the pair as they entered, the centurion stepping forward to hand the man Brutus’ letter.

The legatus quickly read through the letter before looking back up at Brutus, his face rather neutral. “Greetings Brutus Marius, I am Legatus Kaeso Sosius Durus, commander of Rapax XXI. It would seem that Antonius Justus is holding true to his promise to send me able tribunals, which is good given the areas we will be traveling too.”

“You have already met Tuccius, Rapax XXI’s primus pilus, the senior centurion of the legion.” Kaeso Sosius gestured towards the grizzled centurion who simple kept an even gaze on Brutus. “Though you now technically out rank Tuccius, I would highly advise listening to anything he might have to say. He has over fifteen years of service in the legions, and is an excellent primus pilus.”

Kaeso Sosius then looked over towards the primus pilus. “Tuccius, find a centurion to help our new tribunal get fitted for armor, or more likely have measurements taken to alter some armor for him.” The legatus gave Brutus a slight grin. “He will also need a gladius and horse, then have him also show Brutus Marius around the camp and make sure he is aware of basic protocol.” Kaeso Sosius then looked back at Brutus as he went on, “I am sorry I am not able to spend more time with you at the start, but we have much to get ready before going East. There will be plenty of time to talk on the voyage.”

It was awhile after dawn when Legatus Kaeso Sosius Durus arrived at XXI Rapax’s new camp near the port city of Ostia. As he road through the gate in the palisade, everything seemed to be in perfect order, which was no less than he would have expected from his primus pilus. Almost all the tents were set up within the perimeter, those that were missing like from the men left to finish dismantling the previous camp North of Rome.

Kaeso Sorius brought his horse to a halt in the forum of the camp, the very center. One of the sable boys came to take the horse’s reigns and care for it as Kaeso Sosius started towards the headquarters tent. Making his way towards the alter near the headquarters tent, he stopped and said a quick prayer to the gods. The legion had a long ocean voyage ahead of them before they reached their new post, and he would be sure to say the necessary payers to ask for a safe journey for all his men before the set out. Perhaps he might even see about arranging a sacrifice.

After the quick prayer, he looked over towards another important tent that was in the center of the camp. It was the tent set up for the standards of the legion. Every cohort within the legion had its own standard, as did the legion as a whole. The standards helped the members of a cohort stay in controlled formations, and were carried by special officers called signifiers. They also bore markers indicating the honors each unit had received over the years. To Rome, the standards possessed an almost mystical quality, with military engagements being waged to recover a standard that was lost to an enemy.

Turning away, he entered the large headquarters tent to find the large table already set up in its place. Waiting for him was the primus pilus, Tuccius. Giving the old veteran a slight smile, Kaeso Sorius walked over toward where a pitcher of water with several goblets was set up. “Everything is looking just as it should Tuccius, you have done exceptionally well as always. I hope things are proceeding well to prepare the legion for departure?”

The primus pilus nodded as he replied. “Yes, but not quite as quickly as I would like. The quartermaster has been trying to quickly hire new personnel, but it has been a little harder than anticipated.” Taking a drink from his goblet, Kaeso Sorius thought a moment before replying. “Have him offer another hundred sestertii, that might help get new recruits quicker.” Walking back over towards the table, he set the goblet down as he continued. “We should soon be receiving our new tribunals, as quickly as Anonius Justus can appoint them to us. I believe we will have at least one arriving today. The primus pilus nodded, though he was somewhat worried that there could be a long period of training to try and get the new tribunals into fit officers. Not needing to voice this concern to the legatus, the two began going over some of the details of their preparations to depart.

------------------------------
Lucilla had been in a deep sleep when suddenly she stirred awake as light shone onto her face. Opening her eyes, it took a moment to see through the bright light before she saw Berit moving back towards her bed after having opened the curtains. The raven haired woman’s head was pounding, telling her she had drank far more wine than she should have last night. “What are you doing Berit?” She moaned as she tried to move away from the light. “I don’t want to get up yet.”

The younger woman sat on the edge of the bed, looking down on her with a grin on her face. “You should probably have had them start watering your wine sooner last night. Don’t forget, your father said he had arranged for me to practice today at the gladiatorial school, I would like to get there early enough that they aren’t worn out from other training before sparring.”

Lucilla closed her eyes again, wishing the light would stop shinning everywhere. “Gods, I wish I could drink like you do.” With a great deal of effort, she whispered a prayer to Hecate. A cloud of darkness formed in front of the window, blocking out the sun and darkening the room to an acceptable level once more. “Do we have to go now? Can’t I just sleep a bit longer?” Lucilla said, feeling sleep wanting to welcome her back.

The redheaded woman just simply replied. “I have already had your bath drawn. You can either get up and walk there, or I can carry you there and throw you in.” Lucilla let out a deep sigh as she opened her eyes once more and sat up. “You know I can just order you to leave me alone.” She said, with little emphasis behind the words. Berit just gave her a sly smile as she replied. “You could, but then I have always been a little reluctant to take orders I don’t want to hear.”

Lucilla just shook her head as she smiled back. “Someday I really need to get your proper instruction on how you are to act.” With a casual wave of one hand, the raven haired woman banished her previous spell, lighting the room back up as the darkness dissipated. She then climbed out of bed as Berit put her robe over her shoulders.

The conversations continued for awhile after the desert platters had been removed, many of the guests remaining around their tables, drinking wine as they had been all evening. Lucilla had started to ask the serving slaves to water her wine down some, as she had been feeling it a little too much. She was still feeling a slight lightheaded as she looked over at Berit as the redheaded young woman took a sip from her goblet. This was one of the times that the raven haired woman was jealous of her friend, who seemed to be able to drink endlessly with only minor effect. Lucilla set her goblet down on a nearby table, realizing that if she continued to drink, even watered down, Berit might well be carrying her back to the litter.

Her father and Emperor Hadrian had long since moved past discussion of business and even Greek literature, they were now talking about the races at the Circus Maximus Caesar was holding in honor of her father in the afternoon. While Lucilla did enjoy watching chariot races, she didn’t seem to build up as much fervor over outcomes as the majority of Romans did. At times the incredible popularity of the races seemed quite strange, especially as the emperor seemed to be able to use races to distract the citizens from some change that the majority would likely not like if they had been paying attention.

“So Antionus,” Caesar started, “do you still provide backing for the blue team?” Antonius Justus just smiled slightly, knowing very well that the current Caeser, like several before him, was a supporter of the green team. “Yes Caesar, I do, just as you continue to back the green team.”

Caesar gave a laugh as he replied. “Well, it is something of a tradition, and we wouldn’t want to anger the gods by going against tradition. Tell me, how much money do you think you have given your team over the years?” Antinous Justus was quite a moment, likely thinking over the many years trying to find a rough sum. “It has been so many years Caesar, but it is definitely several tens of millions of sestertii.”

Emperor Hadrian gave a slight grin before responding. “Hopefully some of that investment will pay off for you tomorrow, though we will have to wait and see.” Lucilla could see that more of the guests were starting to depart the party, it did seem somewhat late. Her father seemed to have noticed that as well as he stood. “Indeed, tomorrow the gods will let us know what they have planned. But in the mean time Caesar, while it has been a truly enjoyable evening, I am afraid it is starting to grow late, and there is much I wish to try and get organized before the races tomorrow.”

The emperor stood as well nodding slightly in dismissal. “I am sure you do Antonius. It has been my honor to have you, and your lovely daughter and her companion, as my guests this evening. I shall greatly look forward to seeing you all once more during the races tomorrow.”

Lucilla stood and said good evening to the emperor as well, before she followed her father as they started towards the exit, stopping to say farewell on the way out to a few influential senators, including Ovius Plautus. It wasn’t long before they were back aboard their litters and on their way back home.

(ooc okay, that should bring us to the next morning, if any one has anything left to do in the evening, do try to hurry with it so you don't fall behind. Gremlin, I think you had something about a mysterious meeting )

(ooc In the interest of ensuring that everyone isn’t waiting to continue posting for the thread, I am going to move through the dinner party rather quickly.)

Lucilla selected a few choice meats from among the selection, primarily some of the fish and some lamb. While some of the Roman nobility enjoyed over indulging in feasts such as this, she really preferred to eat only a little more than she might normally have in a meal. The emperor was serving foods that her father, even with considerable wealth, did not tend to sever to often. So while she choose to sample some of the more exotic dishes, her portions were anything but extravagant.

Berit eat similarly to Lucilla, but adding a bit more variety, including meats she eat regularly as part of Antonius Justus’ household. Her portions were also a bit larger. For the past few weeks, she had felt rather sedentary, mainly due to the voyage back to Rome by ship. But now that she knew she would be able to practice in the morning at one of the cities gladiatorial schools, she felt she could eat more, she would likely need the extra energy.

During this main course the conversations between Emperor Hadrian, Antonius Justus and Lucilla primarily focused on Greek philosophy. As they talked, Lucilla was impressed with the emperor’s knowledge of philosophy, as well as his fluent Greek. This definitely seemed to proved the stories she had heard that said he was better at speaking Greek than Latin, and that he was very well versed in the classics.

The main course continued for a good while, many of the guests eating a large amount of food. But when slaves finally came out to remove the platters of meat, there was still a considerable amount remaining. Looking at some of the plates as they were taken back out of the room, Lucilla was certain the remainder could feed a great deal of the cities poor.

As the last of the platters of meat vanished, another group of slaves began brining in the deserts. There were plates with wide ranges of fruit, from apples and pears to plums, grapes and cherries and even dates that were imported from Carthage. Other platters were covered with honey cakes or small bowls of pudding. Lucilla was already feeling rather full, but she thought she could at least eat a small selection of fruits to finish.

Lucilla nodded with a smile as Drusus identified a few of the better items for this part of the feast. “Thank you for the suggestions.” Once Berit had gotten a better look at the man’s face, she was certain she had seen him in the city earlier today. While she didn’t like the coincidence, he seemed to be exactly what he was supposed to be. The two young women made their way over to the table and began picking out a few foods onto a plate, focusing on some of the ones recommended.

Once they each had a small plate of food, they made their way back up to the raised section of the room where Lucilla’s father and the emperor were talking some about the current situation within the Eastern provinces and the civil war that was currently taking place within the Parthian Empire. “Currently Osroes rules Mesopotamia and Assyria, having deposed Parathamaspates once I had our legions withdraw. He and Vologases III, who rules the Eastern half of the empire are warring, with Vologases trying to bring all of Parthia back under his control. The more they war, the less chance that they will begin any sort of hostilities with us. But you will need to ensure that the instability that is rampant in Parthia does not spill over.” Lucilla heard Emperor Hadrian explaining as her father listened intently.

Lucilla saw her father nodded as he replied. “The task is all the more difficult as both Judaea and Arabia Petraea were part of the Parthian Empire less that two hundred years ago. You know as well as I there is always a feeling of unrest within the local population, but I already have some ideas regarding how to help dissuade any uprisings.” The emperor smiled. “I knew you were the right man for this posting. I look forward to when I receive reports about your successes at stabilizing and strengthening that section of the empire.”

They discussed a few more things as they ate the appetizers. Then, another group of slaves entered, carrying large platter after platter of main course dishes. For this feast, Caesar had arranged for a wide array of roasted and sautéed meats. There were platters of beef, lamb, veal and pork. Others had arrangements of bream, mackerel, sole and oysters. Yet others contained chicken, duck and ostrich. And then there were several platters with roasted wild boar.

Lucilla watched the food being set out with a slight feeling of guilt. For many citizens throughout the empire, meat was a rare part of their diet. Not even counting the many feasts such as this she attended in the past, Lucilla had likely eaten more meat just in normal meals than most Romans would in their life times. She hoped that Hadrian had continued what had been tradition under Trajan of having any food left over from a feast, which was often quite a lot, distributed among the poor in the city.

As the appetizers were served, Berit half listened as Lucilla, Antoinus Justus and Emperor Hadrian discussed the Oresteia by Aeschylus in Greek. Though she had read the trilogy of plays with Lucilla, the young Celtic woman had not really cared to try to grasp much of the symbolic meaning found within the plays. She had learned enough lines to satisfy their instructor so she could have more time in the training sessions with members of the legion stationed in Greece that her master had arranged.

While trying to keep herself from bring up what a blind fool she had thought Agamenon had been, the red headed woman instead looked about at the food tasters that had come in along with the appetizers. For the most part none looked out of the ordinary, until she saw the one near the front of the room, testing some food for Senator Ovius Plautus. There was something very familiar about the man, but she couldn’t quite place it. But the one thing that was obvious, was that he was not a slave, as many of the testers were, but a freedman at the least.

As the discussion was postponed for the moment as the Emperor began eating some of the food brought to him by his personal tester, Lucilla noticed the tester that seemed slightly out of place among the others. Intrigued by a freeman that was willing to put his life in potential danger, she decided to help provide more justification for his services. Getting up from the chair she had been sitting on, she gave a slight motion for Berit to follow her as she started down the stairs towards the man.

Berit followed closely behind, hoping that a closer look at the man might help her realize why he was familiar to her. As the two women neared him, Lucilla spoke up. “Excuse me, my friend and I were wondering if you might assist us in selecting a few choice selections for our starters.”

(ooc sorry to hear you will be so busy Z We look forward to your return! )

Ovius Plautus watched as Governor Antonius Justus and his daughter made their way towards Emperor Hadrian, followed closely by their redheaded slave girl. Fabius Virilis moved up next to the older senator, speaking softly. “Antonius Justus’ appointment can be a problem. Do you think he might be convinced to join us?”

Ovius’ face was now very serious as he shook his head slightly. “No, I am afraid Antonius Justus has no master before Rome. He would likely see what we wish to do as treason against Rome. He is a capable man, and will make achieving our goals more difficult, but they are still obtainable. Hopefully we will not find ourselves required to make him a causality towards the cause.”

Lucilla’s father lead her towards the raised section of the room opposite the entrance, where a few senators were gathered around a man in his early forties, wearing a toga of deep purple, Emperor Hadrian. As they approached, the emperor noticed, them, turning to face them fully. As she neared him, Lucilla thought of what she had heard of this Caesar.

Since the age of ten he had been the ward of Trajan, both Hadrian and Trajan’s families hailing from Hispania. Through the years, Hadrian, like any Roman Equestrian or member of the Senatorial rank had held numerous posts, from command of legions to magistrate and even governor of Syria, the last post he held before becoming Trajan’s heir. There were also those who whisptered about the means of his being named as Trajan’s heir, even that he had been adopted by the late emperor on his deathbed. In fact, many said that the naming of Hadrian had been the work of Trajan’s wife, Empress Plotina.

One of Hadrian’s first acts as Caesar had been to make peace with Parthia and return territories past the Euphrates that Trajan had sized only a few years earlier. This action was rather unpopular with many within the empire and there were other events that followed closely that cast more doubt on the man. Before Hadrian had even returned to Rome, four respected senators, all former consuls were executed, accused of plotting against the new Caesar. The scandal was even worse as Hadrian denied any responsibility.

But, even with such a tainted beginning, Lucilla’s father had said the new Caesar had quickly show great capability as a rule. Discipline within the army was tightened and the border defenses strengthened, which seemed to be the focus of the new Caesar, strengthening the empire from within and a halt to outward expansion. In addition, the alimenta, the welfare program begun under Trajan for the poor was continued and expanded. In all, everything the raven haired young woman had heard about Hadrian sparked interest.

“Welcome Antonius Justus Nerva, I hope the rest of the day has not be to full of preparations for departure to your new post. But even if that is the case, tonight you shall have the chance to relax and enjoy yourself.” The emperor began as he stepped towards Lucilla’s father. Antonius Justus stopped and bowed to Hadrian as he replied. “There is much to accomplish for our departure, but for the most part today has been merely preparation for the true work to follow.”

Emperor Hadrian laughed slightly as he then shifted his gaze over onto Lucilla. “There always seems to be work to be done. And this is your daughter I believe?” Lucilla bowed as well as her father introduced her. “Yes Caesar, Lucilla Justina Nerva.” “It is an privilege to meet you Caesar, for you have greatly honored my father with the appointment to Judea and Arabia Petraea.”

The emperor took her hands, lifting them up to kiss the back of one. “Your beauty is as great as I have heard. I am sure many young men have restless nights trying to devise a way to win your hand from your father.” A slight grin then came to his face as he continued, this time in perfect Greek. ~“I understand that you received an intensive education during your father’s years as governor of Greece.”~ Lucilla had heard that Emperor Hadrian spoke excellent Greek and was well studied in the classics, something that did seem to hold true.

~“Yes Caeser, I studied many of the classics of Greece’s greatest play writes and philosophers.”~ She responded in fluent Greek. The emperor’s grin became a smile as he released on of her hands and started to guide her over towards one of the chairs near the table set up on the raised area. ~“Excellent, then we will have much to talk about over dinner.”~ Lucilla’s father followed as well, with Berit not far behind. The redheaded young woman was doing a good job of remaining unobtrusive. They were joined by the emperor’s wife, Vibia Sabina as well as the other guests began making their way to the other tables set up.

Slaves began bringing out the first course for the banquet. There were platters with boiled eggs, others with salad with vinegar dressing, various vegetables filled others and there were also platters with shellfish and snails. Each of the tables within the room was set up with an assortment of each as the feast began.

Lucilla was lead along with her father and Berit into one of the many large reception rooms in Emperor Hadrian’s palace. As they neared the room, she could hear the many voices of those guests that were already present. The room was enormous, taking up more space that likely the majority of houses within the city. Massive columns running along each side held up the roof and the floor in the center was sunken, with a raised area opposite the entry. Numerous senators and wealthy merchants dressed in togas were gathered in small groups throughout the room, along with many women in finely made stola. While Lucilla felt there were likely a few military officers present, none were wearing their armor tonight.

Most of the sunken floor was covered with several small tables, around which were arranged seats for the guests to recline on as they eat. Several slaves moved through out the room, offering wine to the guests. For now the guests were mingling, sharing the latest bits of gossip or arranging some intrigue. While Lucilla had stood by her fathers side on numerous occasions when they hosted such events in the governor’s palace in Greece, they were all smaller in scale than the gathering before her.

It was only a moment after they had entered the room that they were approached by what Lucilla was sure would be only the first of a long line of well-wishers. “And there is the man of honor himself.” Said a nearby senator as he and another senator moved over towards Lucilla’s father. “Antonius Justus, you are looking quite well. May the gods smile on you on this latest assignment.” Said the older of the two.

“Thank you Ovius Plautus, you are looking healthy yourself.” Responded Antonius Justus to the older before looking over at the younger Senator. “And greetings to you, Fabius Virilis. You many both remember my daughter? Lucilla Justina.” As her father mentioned her, Lucilla smiled warmly at the two men, stepping forward alongside her father. “Good evening to you both Senators. I trust the gods find you in good health this evening.”

The younger senator nodded his greeting as Ovius Plautus stepped towards her, taking both her hands in his. “Good evening to you lady I must say you have grow into the very image of your mother. I am sure many a heart races when you pass by.” Pulling her along side him as he turned back towards the crowd of other guests. “Please allow an old man to provide you with a few warnings when negotiating the difficult maze that lies before you.” First he pointed towards a group of women who were gathered near the tables in the sunken section of the floor. The woman greatly ranged in ages, from younger than Lucilla to likely three times her age.

“See that group of lovely ladies? There is my wife among them.” Ovius gave a slight wave and broad smile as his wife looked back over towards him. “If you venture to close to them, they will likely net you in where you will hear of every scandal and intrigue currently taking place within the city. They will also begin trying to match you with every eligible bachelor in the city.”

“Now see that group of young men standing over by the column to the right?” Ovius asked as he pointed the group out. “Those are the tribunals with the Praetorian Guard and City Cohorts, as well as a few other military aides for Caesar. While several are fair to look upon, you would likely find them trying to out do each other to impress you with tales of their valor on the battlefield and the ingenious tactics they used to overcome seemingly impossible dangers.”

Luillca looked over at the elderly senator with a slight smile as she asked, “and what of any group you might be part of?” Senator Ovius gave a sly smile as he replied. “That would likely be the most tiresome group for you to find yourself in my dear. Filled with dreary old senators discussing new taxes or which roads need repaving or all other manner of tedious politics and bureaucracy.”

Glancing over at her father, the senator released his light hold on her arm. “I would go over some of the other groups to watch for, but I believe your father wishes for the two of you to go find our host, Caesar, in order to greet him. Hopefully we will be able to speak again before the evening is through.” Lucilla gave Ovius a warm smile. “Thank you senator, for warning me of the many dangers to look out for.” With that she made her way over towards her waiting father, Berit not far behind.