by thedoctor
"Miss your family much, there, Bell?" the lieutenant said as he unloaded his briefcase onto the small table. The window behind him displayed a majestic view of the Swiss Alps. The large man's silhouette transposed onto the mountain scene. Sometimes it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
"No," Dirk said as he sunk down into one of the chairs. "I've expected this kind of life for quite some time now. I accepted the idea of being isolated from my family a long time ago. It's not so bad if you prepare yourself for it."
The lieutenant kept unloading. Everything they were going to need, intel-wise, was in that case. Everyone needed to go over it before infiltrating it. Odds were that McKnight himself was in there. Security wasn't going to be lax by any means. There was also the fact that a good number, if not all, of the opposition force would be American and trained in a similar fashion as they had been themselves. This was going to be the most difficult fight they had ever gone into.
"It's not that great of a life, you know?"
Dirk answered, "I never said it was. Nor have I ever thought that."
"Then why...?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Just because."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. The lieutenant finally decided to break it. "Guess it's better than most reasons I've heard."
A few hours later, the group had gathered in the lieutenant's hotel room for their pre-game rally. Each man was told their assignment and what opposition they would face and how deadly it was. It was the same routine that they went through each time, except when the lieutenant said, "I want to break tradition and code here, men."
"What's that, Lieutenant?" Jackson asked.
"We've faced tough odds before, but nothing quite like this. I don't see all of us getting back. Fate's against us on this one, boys. So, I want to break one of the agency's biggest rules right here and now."
The room was silent. The faint glow of the city lights below the window gave off a ghostly feel. A rule was about to be broken. They didn't know which one, but it was so against the lieutenant's nature. The man lived and died by honor and code. Now he was going to violate that. What could have been so important to do that?
The lieutenant spoke up. "Harold James Dukes. Born in Akron, Ohio, on November 17, 1957. I have two sisters who are both happily married with kids. I graduated from West Point and went on to serve in the army for six years before being picked up by the agency."
After a brief pause, Thomas said, "Warren Otis Thomas. Born in Detroit, Michigan, on May 23, 1965. Four brothers. Three sisters. My youngest brother, Aaron, just got accepted into Notre Dame on a football scholarship. So, I don't know about you assholes, but I'm gettin' back in time to see him bust some heads on the grid iron."
Everyone laughed. For the first time since the group had been started, everyone had sat around without the formality of code. They were allowed to know something about the men that they trusted. Jackson told of his life as the son of a U.S. senator with a penchant for women and alcohol. Dirk revealed, for the first time, the life of growing up in the shadow of heroes and how his life was predetermined by the name he bore and the blood that pumped in his veins. Rogers told of how he was just an ordinary guy who joined the service on a whim.
The morning sun crept into view before the men stopped and went to their beds to rest up for the big mission.