The sound of the aircraft engines filled the cabin, vibrating through the polished steel and leather seats. The Vatican Knights sat in their assigned positions as they prepared for the mission ahead.
"It doesn’t feel right, does it?" Samuel said, his eyes fixed on the empty seat where Kimball Hayden would have normally sat.
"Focus," Isaiah said. "We can't afford to dwell on it now. What matters is the mission."
As their commanding officer, Isaiah could feel the adjusted weight of a new responsibility bearing down on him as he stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds below. They all knew what they had signed up for when they became Vatican Knights, the possible outcome of a shortened life, but the absence of Kimball Hayden left a void that seemed impossible to fill.
"Isaiah?" Jeremiah's voice cut through the drone of the engines. "What's our move once we touchdown?"
"We stick to the plan," Isaiah replied. "We locate the site, infiltrate, gather intel, and neutralize the threat. We do this for Kimball."
"I understand that," Jeremiah responded, adjusting the straps of his tactical vest. "I was talking about the exact location in regard to the point of origin. Any news on that front?"
“Satellites are still searching.”
The cabin fell silent with each man lost in thought as they mentally prepared for the operation ahead. Their faces were fixed with determination, eyes gleaming with a fire that only the most elite warriors possessed.
As the plane flew at an elevation of 22,000 feet, the landscape below transforming from an abstract tapestry to a vivid mosaic of colors, the Vatican Knights readied themselves for the challenges that lay ahead. It was more than just a mission; it was a tribute to the man who had shaped them into the fighters they were today. As the plane continued its descent, the Vatican Knights' faces were a tableau of concentration and tenacity, with each man grappling with his own memories of Kimball and the onus of the mission ahead.
Though the silence in the cabin was palpable, Isaiah could feel the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing against its walls.
Then evenly, he said, "Listen up, it's time for a mission review."
Jeremiah shifted in his seat, cracking his knuckles softly as he leaned forward. Samuel remained his usually stoic self, while Nehemiah and Job exchanged glances.
"Jonah's stronghold," Isaiah began, unfolding a map and laying it flat across the table before them, "could be anywhere within a five-mile radius. Our objective is twofold: infiltrate the stronghold and dismantle the operation from within. Now, the Black Monk used to be one of us, so he knows our methods and our tactics, which benefits him but is a disadvantage to us. Who he has surrounded himself with, we don’t know. But we have to assume that he’s smart enough to surround himself with enough man and firepower to take us on. So, let's stay focused and be prepared for anything. Hopefully, when we touch down, Vatican Intelligence will have the necessary intel to steer us in the right direction. When that happens, we'll have to be surgical in our approach, meaning that there’s no room for error. We must also assume that the Black Monk is expecting us as he has people on the inside working on his behalf to undermine the pope’s authority."
As the plane carried them closer to their destination, the Vatican Knights focused on the task at hand, going over scenarios by committing to memory plans B, C, and D.
As a palpable sense of resolve filled the cabin, each man silently checked his equipment, ensuring that every weapon and tool was in perfect working order. The sound of magazines being inserted into firearms and blades being sheathed echoed through the confined space, punctuated by the occasional click of a buckle being fastened or the hum of electronic devices powering up.
As they prepared to land, their thoughts wandered to the empty seat among them, the ghostly presence of their fallen leader who would not be joining them on this mission. They knew that, despite Kimball’s absence, he would be watching over them, guiding their hands and guarding their hearts. And so, with steel in their eyes and fire in their souls, the Vatican Knights prepared themselves for the battle to come.
"Godspeed," Isaiah murmured, his voice barely perceptible above the drone of the plane's engines.
The silence in the aircraft was as heavy as a shroud, punctuated only by the distant hum of the soft turn of the engines as the Vatican Knights sat in their assigned seats, each lost in thought.
Isaiah sat in his seat with his eyes closed, meditating. He knew that this mission was one of the most important tasks that the Vatican had ever entrusted to them. Now that he was the Master Commander of the Vatican Knights, failure was not an option.
As the plane descended toward the airport, Isaiah's mind continued to race with thoughts of what lay ahead – the battles they would face together, the obstacles they would need to overcome, and the lives that hung in the balance, while under his command.
Life was not easy.
"Touchdown in five minutes," the pilot announced over the speaker.
And five minutes later, as the plane touched down and came to a stop on the tarmac, the Vatican Knights made their way to a waiting black SUV provided by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Alba Iulia, which took them to their next location.