Audentes Fortuna Iuvat
Author's Note2: This is a work of fiction; for example, a casual review of the temperatures I've implied and those I explicitly listed throughout the story arc will reveal a strong dichotomy with the actual recorded temperatures.)
XLV
Friday, 18 December, 2016 [14 months since the events of Carthago Delenda Est], 0515 hours
Staff Sergeant Jack Northcutt, United States Army, (Mobilized) Individual Ready Reserve, finished filling the filter of the well used and often abused, Hamilton Beach, black and stainless, 40 cup, urn-style coffee maker. Jack was the first one to arrive at the briefing room for the daily 0700 company briefing, and as was custom throughout Jack's career when he was the first to arrive, took it upon himself to turn on the lights, turn up the heat, and start making coffee. Jack hated the institutional, authentically Kabul-made room, but grudgingly appreciated that the air in this room, and somewhat less so in the building in general, was the cleanest in the city. Nonetheless, he still hated the always present, historic undercurrent-stink of burned plastic and stale farts that permeated the walls and ceiling, as well as the always moldy taint of the hot air coming from the wall mounted heaters.
"Morning, Wolfman." Sergeant Jimmy O'Neal mumbled groggily as he walked in, still wiping sleep from his eyes and yawning widely. Jimmy used the nickname that Jack had earned from the time they had served together during their first four-year, active duty stints. Jimmy had gone through Ranger School with Jack, deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan with him, and had survived an IED attack on their former Fireteam's up-armored, HMMWV, during their first Afghan deployment in 2013. They'd stayed friends since that time, and had both received notices calling them back to active duty on the same day, and as the US Army mobilized them and involuntarily called them back to active duty, they had received assignments at the same location in Afghanistan. As they'd also arrived in country together the same day, they received room assignment to the same barracks room.
"King James," Jack said, using Jimmy's nickname, "thanks for showing up today," Jack replied with loud smarminess, eliciting a middle fingered salute from Jimmy in response. Jack smiled as he waited for the first cup as the coffee maker issued its final groans and ticks from the brewing process, reverberating into the silent but rapidly warming room.
Shortly after Jimmy came in, and as Jack took and began sipping his rightful first cup of the fresh coffee he'd brewed, their company First Sergeant, 1SG Malik Scoggins entered. "Morning, morning, gentlemen! How you doing on this fine Army day?" He asked, and slapped each of them on the back and shook their hands before cutting in front of Jimmy to help himself to the fresh coffee. And as he did each morning when Jack had prepared the coffee, he complained loudly.
"God DAMN, Staff Sergeant Northcutt, that is some fucked up coffee! Did you have to use half the damn grounds in the whole can for just one pot?!"
"Don't fear the bean, Top." Jack answered with a smile, using the unofficial nickname for US Army First Sergeants (owing to the diamond symbol in the center of their chevrons and rockers). Jack had, in fact, emptied one and a half of the 24-ounce, red plastic containers of Folgers "Black Silk" coffee grounds into the coffee maker's huge basket for grounds, overfilling it so much that as he pushed basket back into the urn, a drift of grounds fell away as the basket, completely filled from top to bottom, slid home, starting the brewing process. To Jack, coffee wasn't a treat to savor and enjoy for its taste, and should never have a subtle flavor; it was an industrial-strength aid in waking (and warming) up, and Jack was pious in his belief that coffee should slap one across one's face with each sip, swig, belt or swallow.
Jimmy laughed as he followed their First Sergeant, took a cup and grimaced at the potent, (but, he thought, still pleasantly smelling) sludge.
In November of 2015, roughly a month after Jack killed Dante and they laid an ambush for and killed Masud, the Tajik mafia strap-hanger and wannabe mafioso, Jack and Jimmy received official notice that the United States Army was asserting its privilege to call upon their service as part of POTUS 44's sudden realization that cutting and running was no more viable a strategy for stabilizing Afghanistan than it had been in Iraq four years earlier, and that rather than hand more political fodder to the (then) Presidential candidates from the opposition party, it was prudent to reinforce the US commitment to the NATO mission, as well as the continued need to cut the snake's heads off as they popped up.
In the aftermath of Kunduz's fall to the Taliban and recapture by Afghan and Western forces the year before, men like Jack and Jimmy were in demand again, and thus they found themselves reporting to the Indianapolis, IN, MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) for their truncated processing back onto active duty for 12 months, following 60 days of pre-deployment training. They'd both groaned and shook their heads as they heard the Admin NCO tell them they were going to support and would be attached to the 4th Infantry Division, who would be replaced the following summer by their old unit, the 187th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 101st Airborne Infantry Division. "Fucking Rakkasans..." they'd both said in unison, eliciting an amused smile from the otherwise dour, middle-aged, black female Master Sergeant. After 60 days of refamiliarization and death-by-powerpoint, they reported to the Combat Readiness Center in Fort Bliss, TX, for more administrative masturbation before finally leaving on the exceedingly boring and slow official transport. They'd quickly moved from Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, to NKC (New Kabul Compound) in Kabul, where they finally remembered what it meant to serve in the United States Army, in a war zone.
Jack and Jimmy were both combat veterans, Ranger qualified combat infantrymen, and Jack in particular had essentially six years of combat experience. They both possessed adjudicated Top Secret security clearances (due to their temporary, seven month attachment in Iraq to a SOF unit), and were experienced NCOs. Upon realizing the talent and experience they brought to their new command, the 4th ID's brain trust considered carefully their resumes and how Jack and Jimmy could best support their mission in Afghanistan, and arrived at the august decision to put to use their talents in filling the roles of D-FAC (Dining Facility) NCOs...
Thus, for the first six months of their time back in Afghanistan, Jack and Jimmy had been assigned to supervise Macedonian and Afghan civilian contractor cooks as they planned, prepared, served and cleaned-up after three meals a day at the NKC 'chow hall.' While Jack had been the duty NCO for the morning shift (0400 to 1600), Jimmy had been his replacement, covering the shift from 1600 to 0400. Thankfully, they shared a room at the fairly modern NKC barracks, and due to their disparate duty shifts during their first six months, each man would almost always have the room to themselves. This had given them a great deal of time to think, exercise, visit the bazaar (and realize each time that its primary purpose was spectacle rather than thrift or value), and reflect on their lives to this point. For Jack, it meant often revisiting his time with Veronica before first she and then he had left his apartment and the life he'd briefly known with her.
XLVI
Thursday, 22 October 2015, 1003
Jack lay in bed with Veronica, having arrived back home 10 minutes earlier after killing Dante and Masud. Veronica had spent the whole night worrying about Jack, and had been upset with him as he finally arrived home, not having called her as he said he would, to let her know he was fine and on his way home. But she'd also been relieved beyond anything she'd experienced to have him home safe again. They'd both been exhausted, as neither of them slept the night before, and both of them were also mentally exhausted. Upon returning home, Jack had picked Veronica up in his arms and carried her to their bed, undressing her and laying her gently down before he undressed and got into bed with her. Jack lay on his back and held Veronica's dark, sexy body close to his own, feeling her still shaky breath against his neck as he gently kissed the top of her head and held her tightly to him. Veronica lay on her side, facing Jack and held him snugly, with her eyes closed and the side of her face pressed against his chest and neck. Jack expected that after they each calmed down and felt the heat from their close contact soothe their frayed nerves, they'd gently drift off to sleep in one another's arms. Veronica had other impulses...
She felt, still, the incredible relief his return had brought her, and enjoyed the vacuum left by her anger and guilt, but as she calmed and was increasingly aware of his body against hers, more aware of his scent, she felt a need for him begin to kindle within her. At first, she gently moved her hand away from his waist to touch and stroke his ribs and deltoid muscles, tentatively, worried he might have been hurt after killing Dante, but she felt his muscles shift beneath her touch and his cock grow warm and hard against her left leg which lay upon his crotch. She began to rub her leg slowly back and forth, stroking his hardening erection as she lifted up her head and kissed him hungrily upon his lips. Veronica's breathing quickened, she drew more of his scent into her nostrils and slid her leg over his hip and straddled his waist as her hands began to take hold of his back and shoulders, tightly, as she lay fully upon him. She felt him return her kiss and slide his hands up from her back to her neck, and then down to her waist. Veronica moaned through their kiss and needed him inside her. She moved her hands down to his crotch and took his shaft in her hand and pushed it down to rub the head of his cock against her warm, rapidly lubricating pussy lips and began sliding back and forth, rubbing her lips up and down his shaft. She felt him begin to grind and thrust his hips with increasing desire, she could feel his need to be inside her reaching a point of intensity that signaled his readiness to take over. She leaned to her left and coaxed him roll over and lay on top of her. Jack took hold of her and crudely rolled with her onto her back. He kissed her as he felt her spreading her legs reaching her hand down to position his cock to penetrate her very wet cunt.
Veronica gasped loudly and closed her eyes, digging her fingernails into his shoulders as he slowly but inexorably penetrated her, feeling for some reason more awareness of his progress inside of her now than at almost any other time they'd had sex. Veronica was more aware of Jack's girth as he fit tightly within her, feeling him travel slowly and smoothly along every inch of her vaginal walls until he came to rest against her cervix. She opened her eyes and looked up at his handsome face, her mouth remaining open in the still unusually renewed feeling of pleasure she took from his penetration. "I don't think I ever before noticed how well he fills me!" She thought.
Jack saw Veronica react in what seemed like surprise as he penetrated her, enjoying the unusual tightness he felt from her as he entered her. He pushed into her, smoothly, and paused as he went as deep within her as she could take him, enjoying the way her hands moved up from his back to frame his face as she looked, still open-mouthed, from one of his eyes to the other, and then closed her eyes and gasped again as he slid backwards, moving to keep just the head of his cock inside her, before beginning in earnest to fuck her.
Veronica was more vocal this time than she'd ever been with him, felt more aware of Jack's movements and more of a need (an almost unquenchable need), for him. Every millimeter of his progress set off her pleasure and enjoyment like almost nothing she had known before, and while she felt her orgasm very slowly building, it was a long time before it became unavoidable. As was typically the case, the way Jack's cock rubbed against her vaginal walls in front of her cervix was particularly stimulating. Combined with the feeling of his pelvis sliding back and forth against her clit, Veronica truly enjoyed the pleasure she received from sex with Jack, and never had a problem building toward her orgasm when they fucked.
When her orgasm finally crashed upon her, spilling beyond her capability to contain its growing momentum any longer, it felt very different from any earlier orgasms she'd known with Jack. The pleasure she felt from this orgasm was different and seemed strange to her, almost as though a set of back-up nerves were handling this orgasm, and their circuits were run in an alternative path from her usual set. Whatever the reason, Veronica felt distractedly pleased, still wondering at what was going on in her body as she noticed that familiar tightness to Jack's shoulder and arm muscles where she touched him, and saw in his face that same tension peak before he pulled himself tightly against her cervix, ground his hips three more times, and then ejaculated inside of her.
"Jack, baby, come here..." She whispered to him, pulling him down to lay upon her chest, kissing his sweaty face and neck and feeling an almost overwhelming, intimate love for him as he ejaculated within her; she felt more emotional from their climax than she had realized was possible. Normally, Veronica's uterine contractions and Jack's ejaculation were enjoyable and very pleasurable for each of them, and transitioned them to affectionate and romantic touches and kisses during their extended afterplay sessions, enjoying the wake of each of their orgasms, the soft, loving pleasure of looking deeply within each other's eyes, smiling between tender kisses and gentle caresses. This time, Veronica couldn't stop holding Jack tightly against her, feeling so touched and moved by his closeness and his love for her that she began to cry, softly and quietly at first, and then audibly as tears streamed from her eyes and her sobs gently shook her body. Jack held her tightly and kissed her forehead, cheeks and lips, tenderly wiping her tears. Veronica's reaction soundly confused her, though Jack did not seem terribly surprised, and made it a point to hold her close to him; she'd never felt emotional like this with Jack after sex, never feeling so affected from making love. For reasons beyond her knowledge (but beginning to hint subconsciously to something momentous), her hormones and the emotions they triggered, were somewhat out of control...
XLVII
Thursday, 22 October 2015, 1900.
Veronica stared at Jack, her nostrils flaring as her heart thundered and her temples throbbed as anger, disappointment, sadness and bitterness warred within her. Jack had just finished telling her everything that he'd done the night previously and earlier that morning. That information alone had shocked her, but it was the deeper explanation he revealed to her as to how he had used her situation to his own betterment, and the fact that up until this moment, he had not fully trusted her with the full truth that had so badly disappointed Veronica. She felt hurt that he had not told her earlier about his own doom that he'd felt hanging over his head for the last two years, and even more so that he'd taken advantage of her situation and by way of omission, had manipulated her. In that moment, he was not as much her protector or rescuer, but more of a sleazy used car salesman, sizing her up for what she could do for him as much as he could do for her... Veronica felt cheap and used and very much betrayed. She'd shared everything with Jack, at least from the moment he'd confronted her about her accent and origin. And as much as he'd shared with her, he ultimately held back from her. It was that disparity that hurt Veronica so much.
"Ronnie?" Jack asked her, after she'd stared at him for about a minute following his concluding everything that he'd done. He suspected she'd be disappointed that he'd held back his own entanglement with a ruthless Afghan warlord and narco baron, and how he'd found a solution to that relationship based on the danger Veronica faced from the drug dealer she'd ripped off and who'd been looking find and kill her. But he now realized that she seemed more than just disappointed, and that realization worried Jack more than anything he'd had to deal with in the last 24 hours...
Finally, Veronica blinked and looked down, letting out a long exhalation Jack hadn't realized she'd been holding in. He watched her shake her head slowly back and forth before closing her eyes and putting her hand to her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger.
"Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me about this earlier, Jack? After everything we've been through, all we shared about our lives and everything we have, why would you keep me on the outside of this? And why did you have to kill seven people?!" She asked the last question with some heat, taking her hand away from her face and looking directly at him.
"I-" Jack began to say, but she interrupted him.
"Dante, I understand, but six other people? My God, Jack! That's a fucking massacre! I mean, one lowlife drug dealer dies, fine, that's a typical night in this city, but four people in the club and another two at a state park, all within hours of each other?! Baby, this is going to get a lot of attention, if you left anything behind that can tie you to this, we could both go to prison for the rest of our lives, if not death row! Jack, honey, do you want me to give birth on death row?!"
Jack felt rocked back on his heels from the force of Veronica's reaction, though he took no umbrage to her concerns for his possibly leaving behind evidence that could identify him as involved in any of the seven people he'd killed the night and morning before.
"Sweetheart-" He began to say, but again, Veronica cut him off.
"Don't 'sweetheart' me, Jack! This isn't the time for 'sweetheart!'" Veronica shot back, angrily, but Jack noticed she'd lowered her voice.
"Ronnie," he began, wondering if she'd take offense to his using her nickname, but after a moment without a return fusillade, he decided he was fine to push on. "I had to kill the three men in the club with Dante. The first guy was huge and had a semi-automatic pistol stuck in his back waistband. Plus, he was not going to leave me to move through the club unattended. Finally, he was part of Dante's crew, and may very well, in other circumstances, have taken a shot at you. He, like the other two assholes who were with Dante in the upstairs office, were just as dirty as Dante. The other two in the office with Dante tried to draw down on me. I had no choice, but frankly, I would have killed them even if I'd had the choice. They were scum, Ronnie. One of them was the fat mother fucker, I'm sure, who kicked you the night you left that life. So again, even if I'd had the chance to do otherwise, I'd have killed him just for the way he treated you. But, I understand your point about leaving evidence. I didn't leave anything behind that can tie me to that. I know right now maybe you don't want to hear this answer, but you'll have to trust me. I knew what I was doing, but I also give you my word (and I hope that you'll take it): it was the last time I'll ever do anything like that again."
He concluded speaking and looked deeply into her eyes, waiting. He noticed that her breathing had slowed, and she wasn't looking at him with as hard of a glare as she'd done a minute earlier. He decided to continue to offer what he hoped would reassure her of both his attention to detail in not leaving identifiable clues, but also the finality of that side of his life.
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