She kept her back respectfully turned as he stripped, rapidly doing the same. Inside the Vatican, she had respectfully donned slacks and put a brown leather jacket over her green army tee shirt, but inside the van, it was all business. Trionfo had the best high tech tactical assault armor money could buy, bulletproof and lightweight, it was constructed of polytech fiber that would stop small rounds and stabs, and take most of the brunt of larger caliber rounds.  She folded her jacket carefully and set it aside, pulling her tee shirt over her head and folding it neatly. Unzipping her slacks, she folded these and tucked them all into a small locker labeled with her name for just this purpose. Beneath her casual clothes, she wore a pair of no-nonsense bikini briefs and a matching white sports bra, even though her small breasts really didn't need the support, she felt more comfortable in it.<br/><br/>The lightweight fitted pants were the first thing she wriggled into. It was strange fabric, feeling sticky and almost snake-like to the touch, but when warmed to body temperature, moved and breathed like a second skin. The bio-suit they wore under their armor was brilliant technology, full of electronics that monitored their life signs, masked their heat and infrared signature, and held cameras so that their extop could monitor them from the van. The long-sleeved top was too hot for warm mid-Spring American weather, but it was necessary for the suit. She pulled on the bulletproof vest, then strapped on her tactical belt and doublechecked the pockets for the correct equipment. The thigh and shin guards were next, then the ninja socks, which were not as safe as boots, but would make her footsteps silent and quick. She dug into the equipment locker, looping a thin black rope on her belt hook, and loaded a single palm shot of stimtabs into the wrist of her suit.<br/><br/>She reached for her nine millimeter and four clips, then set down all but one. If they got into a spot where they really needed that much firepower, they were already dead.<br/><br/>"Gabe?"  She said, and their extop turned from the front of the van, a thin but very handsome Latino man with a thin scar running down the entire front-left of his face.  "Uplink ready, Major Van. Sending coordinates now."