Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

IX: Ninety Seconds Under Water

It was strange. I was originally assigned to go with Knox, but John Laurens made a specific request for me to be on his team. I had no objections since it would mean I'd be reunited with Alexander, who is also with John Laurens. Peggy and Rory are also in this group, but Vincent is sadly with Lee.

As we flew to our destination, John Laurens educated us on what the fuck is going on. He has a map posted on the wall we sit opposite of, pointing to locations and talking a lot. Frankly, I'm not listening. I can't tear my eyes off the flag.

Inwardly, I'm still blaming myself for what happened in Florida. I have yet to confide these guilts to anyone, but Alexander has figured it out. We haven't had much time to talk about it.

John Laurens seems to be finishing his presentation, then with a nod, he steps away and saunters into the cockpit, closing the door behind him. I'm briefly reminded of Bushrod and the excitement he felt when I agreed to go on a date with him. A date we will never go on. If I had known he'd die that day, what would I do? What would I say? Do I have to say anything? I didn't know him, and frankly, I shouldn't have to. Still...

"You weren't listening to that, were you?" Alexander whispers to me.

I shake my head sorrowfully. "I got distracted."

"I could tell," Alexander says, his voice almost drowned out in the sea of voices from our peers. They're conversing about the mission we're getting sent to, placing bets on how many soldiers will die. "You were goggling at the TBL."

"TBL?" I raise my brow.

"Thin Blue Line... the flag."

I nod, then shrug. I turn to face Peggy, who is in a conversation with Rory. I butt in as politely as possible, then ask them what the fuck we're doing. Peggy is happy to explain:

We're flying to Havana, Cuba. Our goal is to invade the Palace of the Revolution, which is where the Cuban President lives. We have only one mission: kill the bastard.

We're assassins now, I suppose. This seems like a suicide mission. Every plane in the Cuban Air Force will be targetting us the moment we enter their vision; no way they'll ever let us get close to the President. For the sake of the mission, let's say it works. We'll be parachuting down to the ground. I figured we'd be doing something like this, for we were forced to strap parachutes to our bodies. We're not professional paratroopers, but all soldiers are trained to use parachutes in basic training. 

I've had a lot of practice working with parachutes before basic training for unrelated reasons.

All three groups have three different drop-off locations to make it harder to find and kill us. My group will be dropping down over a history museum near the Palace. I don't know where the other teams will be dropping off.

We will have to recollect as a group, then push our way to the Palace. He'll be there, we're assured. They aren't expecting this, so the President will certainly be there. We must locate him and put a bullet between his eyes. We have orders to avoid killing civilians, but our Generals said that might change if the public attempts to protect their President.

Essentially, it's an invasion to complete an assassination.

I don't know what all those men in Eaton's big meeting were thinking: killing the Cuban President? That's the quickest way to piss off Russia!

But then I recall the outrage that blew up throughout the entire country after Florida was destroyed. Hell, even our Allies got pissed! Killing their replaceable President is nothing.

I thank Peggy for her knowledge, then sigh deeply. Peggy seems to notice my discomfort, and flashes a daring smile in my direction, seeming to want to calm my nerves.