He was nowhere to be seen so we crept around the edge of the woods, our rifles scanning for potential threats, when a dark figure emerged from a shrub. Santino’s face was obscured by his night vision goggles, the only part of him visible being two small, green circles around his eyes, a result of the backlight from his NVGs. The eyes were very unsettling, and the bad guys reacted to it fearfully every time.
“Old McDonald had a farm,” he said.
“What?” I asked, perplexed at the comment.
“Old McDonald had a farm,” he repeated more insistently.
I looked over at Helena, but she didn’t seem to have any idea what he was talking about either.
“What the hell are you babbling about?” She asked.
Santino stood straighter, and pulled up his NVGs to reveal his frowning face. “Old McDonald had a farm. What’s the counter signal?”
“We don’t have one,” I replied. “Never have.”
“No counter signal?” He said sadly. “What kind of spy movie is this?”
Santino hadn’t sat idle while Helena and I had vacationed in Galba’s tent, a fact he couldn’t help but bring up over and over again. He’d crept along the tree line during the day towards the Rhine and took a few photos of Agrippina’s pleasure barge. As I suspected, Santino’s initial report was confirmed to be mere hyperbole, but the size of the ship was still impressive. It was extravagantly large but still buoyant on small inland rivers, and the Rhine easily accommodated its presence. It was a wonder of Roman engineering.
After scanning the photographs, our first objective was to plan our insertion.
Over the years, Santino, Helena and I had taught each other key skills one of us possessed but the other didn’t. Helena had taught Santino how to be an effective spotter, teaching him what to look for in shapes, colors and movement in objects to help discern their threat level. She would place small, nearly invisible objects for him to try and find from a distance, and record how many he could. It was a training method used during sniper school, but Santino’s lack of patience made him a tough student.
As for Santino, he had taught me some of the finer points in tracking, scouting, and silent movement, as well as some pointers on knife fighting. I had become pretty good at sword play over the years, but what he taught me was how to go head to head with nothing but a dagger or a boot knife. We’d received dozens of cuts on our forearms as a result and I had grown a resounding fear of ever having to put it to use. Hollywood had done a disservice to the fighting style because it wasn’t easy and it was extremely terrifying.
Finally, I had tutored Helena on underwater demolition work. SEAL training emphasized a multitude of underwater combat techniques, and rigging ships with explosives was an important one. It wasn’t an easy job, and I figured it might be worth having someone else who could assist me with it one day. We had waterproof explosives in our supplies, but knowing where and how much to use took a skilled hand, and the psychological battle alone deserved respect.
The prospect of maneuvering beneath a hulking ship, with nothing but the deep dark water beneath you was one that broke plenty of spirits in BUD/S. Helena and I had spent many warm summer days swimming in the rivers and lakes of the Roman Empire, sometimes frolicking, but most of the time performing extensive training.
With those skill sets in mind, the plan we developed was simple. Phase one called for Helena and I to slip under the boat and plant enough explosives to do nothing but distract the barge’s inhabitants. All I wanted was to cause enough damage to confuse and distract those on board if we had to cut and run. If I knew Roman’s like I knew I did, their engineers would have constructed the ship so that a few holes wouldn’t sink her.
To put it simpler: the Titanic would not have sunk had the Romans built her.
Santino would spot for us during phase one, but for phase two, Helena would hang back and provide sniper support while Santino accompanied me aboard. That put those who were best at their particular jobs in all the right places. We’d probably sneak around for the better part of the morning, but when we found Nero, we’d take him. If we found Agrippina, maybe we’ll stop by for a chat.
We still had another day of recon before Helena and I began phase one.
IV
Badass Entry #4
Lt. Jonathon Archibald Santino III
Vindonissa, Germania Superior — April, 42 A.D.
This journal is lame
The story is pathetic. The plot is slow. There’s no nudity. The writers are just… well, you know… pathetic mostly.
We need some more testosterone around here. Good thing I’m around.
Still, I love those guys. They’d do anything for me, and I’d throw myself in front of a bullet for either one of them… so it’s nice that there aren’t many bullets flying at us these days.
Besides, they seem to have nothing but nice things to say about me most of the time.
Anyway, they’ve got the story pretty much caught up at this point, so I’ll get to the point.
Helena’s journal entry was only a few days ago, but it seems that since then, Jacob convinced Galba to help us with this crazy mission of his. We’ve also learned that our primary target, Nero, is also here. Jacob wants to capture him and hold him ransom to get Agrippina to step down — at least that’s what he tells us when he decides to tell us anything at all. Honestly, I’ve never been a fan of the whole capturing a child part of the plan, but I know who Nero is.
He’s bad mojo. Or, at least he will be.
But whatever.
Helena and Jacob are getting ready to plant some demo on Agrippina’s barge before he and I infiltrate it tomorrow.
Agrippina.
Man. Now there was a fine piece of ass. Beautiful. Big boobs. Great body. She threw herself all over me a few years ago, and damn was it worth it. Too bad she’s a freak, and I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot cattle prod these days, and probably shouldn’t have then.
Whatever. It was worth it.
Hey… Jacob gave me this journal to jot down some thoughts while he and Helena complete phase one of the mission. I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he said the journal would appeal to a broader audience if it was written from multiple perspectives.
Joke’s on you, buddy.
Wow!
Sorry. Just peeked through my binoculars to check in on the lovebirds, and I just caught an eyeful. Not of Jacob (thanks every god that’s ever existed) but of Helena. Hey, it’s my job to spot for them and Helena really shouldn’t expose herself out in the open like that. Remember what I said about Agrippina? Throw in an actual human being with a soul, and you got Helena. I still can’t believe that dork got that lucky. She’s way too good for him.
Shit. Looks like I went on a bit too long here. They’ve already slipped into the water. I blame Helena.
By the way, if this does get made into a movie, you all know who the real star should be.
Me.
Good luck casting this thing, by the way.
Especially me.
Look me up in a few thousand years. I should be hitting my prime right around then.