“This isn’t what I meant by ‘invisible,’ Sully,” Cooper said.
“What’d you expect?” Sully asked as he stitched the last thread of photo-reflective wiring into Cooper’s ghillie suit. “Grass and leaves?”
“Kind of,” Cooper answered, shrugging. Glints of sunlight glimmered off the synthetic fronds of his suit as they slid over each other.
“That’s ’cause you’re old,” Sully answered. He tightened one of the straps under Cooper’s arm.
“Probably,” Cooper conceded. “I’m from a time before death rays and lasers and Invisible Man suits.”
Sully sighed. “Lasers are so nineties.”
“I was actually thinking seventies.”
“Like I said.”
Sully padded a few keystrokes into the screen on his gauntlet, and with a series of little ripples, Cooper was reduced to glassy silhouette as the fronds of his suit mimicked the ambient light behind him.
“This is disorienting.” Cooper said dryly. “I think I prefer old-fashioned camouflage. You know, green and black and you could see your arms?” He held out his hands, and the wrinkles in the fabric caught the sun and formed unsettling floating shadows in the air.
“I think I remember reading about passive camouflage in history this one time,” Sully whispered distantly.
“The active camo isn’t for human eyes anyways. The train is going to have sensors. That’s why I can’t be around when it gets here.”
“You didn’t bring your own suit?”
“They’re expensive, and I guess SOCOM didn’t think I was worth it.”
Sully handed Cooper an anti-materiel rifle and trotted off into the hills. “Make it count!” he shouted wryly over his shoulder. “Remember about humidity and wind speed and gravity and all that. Oh! And remember they discovered the Coriolis effect since you were in sniper school.”
Cooper muttered profanities as he settled into a prone position overlooking the tracks, and waited.