“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s just a scra…”
I didn’t notice her pull out a package of QuikClot and pour it on my arm. I almost screamed, grinding my teeth together, settling for a painful moan to help maintain my dignity.
“Quit being a baby. It’s just a scratch. Besides, I owed you one.” She pulled out a bandage and wrapped it around my arm, pulling it tight, forcing me to bit my lip
again. “I’d recommend you take it easy, but that’s clearly not going to happen. Let Wang check it out ASAP.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I popped a few pain killers, enough to hopefully dull the pain, but not cause me to lose focus. Helena offered her hand. I took it and let her help me up, wincing as I felt my back, shoulder, and the entire left flank of my upper body begin to bruise.
“So now what?” She asked.
“We wait,” I replied, shrugging off the pain.
We didn’t have to for long. A replacement centurion was quickly brought to the front, and after a little pep talk, ordered his men to charge. Casting pila as they came, and receiving a single volley in return, the men sprinted towards our position as though the forces of Olympus were urging them on.
Their first volley incoming, I grabbed Helena and held her close. We squeezed ourselves behind her original column, while Bordeaux hid behind my old one. As soon as the missiles fell to the ground, many flying through the air we had just vacated, we stepped around the corner, and started firing.
Helena’s first target was the replacement centurion, while I went for the standard bearer, the soul of every legion. While another man would pick it up after it fell, the continuous falling of it would quickly dishearten those who noticed. After that, I went back to my practice of only shooting those who were immediate threats to my allies below. Helena did the same, while Bordeaux used his elevation to pour fire into the middle of the crowd, thinning it from within.
Despite our help, our line started to horseshoe inwards almost immediately, with the center of the enemy’s line extending well through our own. I still saw no end to the enemy’s forces, while ours were wavering. They would never break, but their fatigue was starting to show. Many of our people were hacked to pieces because of it. The reserve century tried to move around the left to get along the enemy’s flank, but while a good idea, they just didn’t have enough room to maneuver in the ways that made the Roman legions so effective. It would do little except stall the enemy a little longer.
I decided to abandon my selective targeting policy, and flicked my rifle’s selector switch over to fully automatic, and began spraying the most densely populated areas I could see. I mowed down dozens of men before my magazines finally ran out of ammo. I glanced over at Helena, who was likewise digging for loaded magazines that didn’t exist.
I threw a rock at her to get her attention. The rear of our formation had backed itself up the stairs at this point, blocking clean shots, and making it hard to hear each other. When she turned to look, I pointed inside, and waggled my middle and pointer fingers, communicating my decision to fall back.
She nodded, and ran for the door. Bordeaux noticed her retreat, looked at me and nodded. He backed his way into the doorway, ready to fall back at moment’s notice, but sticking around to provide as much support as he could.
Passing him, I thumped his shoulder to get his attention, before yelling into his ear, “hold the line. I’ll report to Vincent. Don’t forget to fall back.”
He gave me a wide grin, and turned back towards the fighting while I ran as fast as I could towards the back of the house. When I arrived, I discovered that Caligula’s room had completely changed. It was littered with bodies, Caligula was now on the floor, and Santino had his combat knife implanted through a man’s chin, extending it into his skull. Pulling the blade free, he wiped it clean on the dead man’s toga just before he slumped to the ground, and placed it back in a sheath. He started to whistle as he left the balcony, waltzing back into the room as though nothing had happened, tiptoeing and skipping over maybe thirty men. I observed that most of the bodies in the room had died from similar knife wounds to the face, neck, and chest. Noticing my appearance back in the room, he pulled up short, as if surprised to see me. He appeared as carefree as a father tucking in his kids.
“Jacob! Nice to see you. How are things?” He asked as nonchalantly as a gossiping golden girl. He pointed at my arm.
“Oh, you know… had to play the hero and all that.”
“Ah. Slayed the dragon, rescued the damsel in distress, and saved the world did you?”
“Something like that.”
Helena rolled her eyes, before offering her own sit rep. “The situation is rapidly deteriorating outside. We’re going to need to hold in the hallways soon before falling back completely.”
I nodded. “She’s right. How’s our patient?”
Each of us turned to Wang. He had his fingers around Caligula’s feverish wrist, checking his pulse. I glanced at my watch, surprised to see that only forty five minutes had elapsed since the fight had begun. Wang said we’d need at least an hour.
When he looked up, his face looked satisfied. “He’s surprisingly well. His temperature has dropped and his pulse is steadying. I think it’s safe to assume that he’s made it through the worst of it. He should make a full recovery, but he could easily relapse. Let’s give him another twenty minutes before we move him.”
“Twenty minutes it is,” Vincent replied. “Prepare to defend the room.”
As if to capitalize on his words, Bordeaux came rushing in with Gaius and Marcus, who had lost track of Helena and I in the battle.
“They’re breaking through,” Gaius reported. “We have five minutes before our troops must retreat to the atrium.”
Vincent nodded, turning to Bordeaux. “When I asked you to line the halls with demo, tell me you placed more than you were ordered to.”
Bordeaux gave Vincent a look that suggested he’d be crazy to think anything but. “Of course. I have a backup detonator which should bring down the front structure of this house, but preserving this room.” He paused as he surveyed the room. “Hopefully.”
I sighed. Demo-guys.
“Great. Detonate the small charges at your discretion, but bring down the house only on my order.”
“Sir,” I spoke up. “I’m not all that fond of blowing up Augustus’ house.”
“Deal with it,” he replied, moving to the doorway. “They’ll rebuild it.”
Around the time I said the word “house,” loyal Praetorians began streaming into the hallway outside the room, clogging the space and creating a perimeter. They were a distraction. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadowy figure emerge from the balcony, and sneak up behind Santino. I couldn’t tell if he was a Praetorian or a civilian, but the knife he held told me enough. I shouted a warning to my friend as I brought my rifle to my shoulder only to realize I was too late.
Before I could bring my barrel to bare and enact some facet of revenge on the interloper, I felt a whoosh of air over my shoulder, and I saw a spear fly towards Santino’s head. Not enough time to move, Santino froze as the spear flew straight and true, right past his own shoulder and into the skull of the sneaking intruder.
I turned to see Gaius hold out a clenched fist, which was summarily punched by Marcus’ own.
Well there’s one for the history books. Roman soldiers showed signs of appreciation and congratulations by pounding fists, just as we did in our own time. And me without my camera.
Santino had a look of complete shock on his face as he twisted at the waist to see the dead man behind him, pila protruding through the man’s skull. The would be assassin was so close to Santino that the spear vibrated over my friend’s shoulder. Santino pressed his finger against the spear and gave it a nudge and watched as the man dropped to his knees and fell to the ground. Returning to his original position, he looked over my shoulder at the Romans.