Lobo Malo

Chapter 22 - A Deep Breath

The White House
1032 EST

"Finally let you out of sickbay?" Gregory asked as he handed Tarvey a cup of coffee.

"Not like they could keep me there indefinitely." Tarvey inhaled the steam wafting up from the cup before sipping. "Couple of pellets in the shoulder and a through-and-through on the calf. I'm still alive, Peace. There's folks with real injuries that need to be looked after."

"Did the True Sons have you scheduled for a waterboarding before we got there?"

"Not even close. I will say this for the man," grimaced Tarvey, his tone deeply reluctant, "Ridgeway really did keep his word about not torturing me. True, he wanted me in the best possible shape before he had me summarily executed for the cameras, but he didn't lie to me." He sipped his coffee slowly. "Unfortunately, that moment of honesty does not eliminate the necessity of putting him down as hard and fast as humanly possible."

"I would be super happy if the world wasn't fucked up like this by Christmas."

"So would I, Peace. But being a SEAL, I'm habituated towards disappointment."

The White House's PA system crackled to life. "Team Peacemaker, please report to the Logistics Officer. Team Peacemaker to Logistics."

Gregory's eyebrows went up sharply. "Now why would Coop be wanting to talk to us?"

"Damned if I know. But if he's asking for us, I can't imagine it's going to be to tell us something pleasant for somebody. You have any special requests lately?"

"Nope. You?"

"Uh-uh."

"Guess we better go find out what he wants." Gregory stood up, slurped down the rest of his coffee and waited for Tarvey to do the same before heading downstairs to the Logistics Desk. They crossed paths first with Bundmeister, who had been coming from outside near the helipad, then with Ryckmen, who'd been down at the range. The whole team walked over to Coop Dennison's waist high counter, the containers behind him both more numerous and far better organized than when Gregory had showed up all those weeks ago. It was a strange moment. He'd passed by the counter often enough, talked with Dennison from time to time, but there was a feeling of impending significance to this visit.

"Good to see you guys," Dennison said with a smile. "Guessing you're going to be gearing up for the last shooting match."

"It's always the last one till the next one comes along, Coop," said Ryckmen philosophically.

"Ain't that the truth? Still, I'm pretty sure there's going to be a good long time between now and then. But I figured that since only suckers believe in fair fights during a war, it's not unreasonable to slip a couple knuckledusters to you." Dennison's smile grew broader. "Christmas has come early, boys and girl. Ricky, since you were just in the body shop, it seems only right you get the first present."

"What have you been up to, Coop?" Tarvey asked suspiciously as the Logistics Office turned to a back counter.

"I've been having some very productive conversations with Inaya and Charlie. And believe me, putting those two together on skunkworks projects is probably the best thing to happen since sliced bread. They've been working up some very specialized equipment for you four. I don't think any of you are going to feel disappointed with these goodies. Ah! Here we go." Dennison pulled out a thick hardshell case, the image of a wolf's head with crossed arrows behind it emblazoned on the center. "Open it up."

Tarvey flipped the latches and opened the case, revealing a sleek composite stock and a pair of collapsible limbs connected with a thick cord. "It's a crossbow," he murmured as he brought it out of the foam lining and flipped a catch, the limbs spreading out and locking into place.