Hey everyone, MWIM here back from a long hiatus of the real world and with the sequel to Advanced Commando, a story I did not expect to take off in the way it did. Huge thanks to those faithful who read, favorite, subscribed. For those new to this AU of mine, I would suggest that you read the original to familiarize yourself on what has happened. Otherwise, a lot of things are not going to make sense.
Without further ado, I present the creatively titled sequel; Advanced Commando II.
I do not own Pokemon.
It was a landscape of another world. Vast glittering fields of freshly fallen snow adorned the ground with black wiry husks of hollowed out trees.
Winds blew nonstop in a loud shriek that could penetrate the thoughts of anyone there. Reaching nearly fifty miles an hour, it was accompanied by the ever present darkness on clear nights. Such were quite rare and instead the wispy blankets of clouds circled the entire surroundings, refusing to let go.
The sun would set and sometimes not appear again for weeks on end.
It was not an island for humans or most pokemon to inhabit. Even the hardy ice-types that thrived in the cold avoided this place if possible. Rumors of abomasnow and snover living around were still rumors and believed to be the cause of the multiple blizzards that lasted for eighteen hours at times. What few small towns were on this frozen rock situated themselves further north for ports to bring in the fruit of the hunting and fishing industry that was the primary drive to their small economies.
This made it a perfect place for the notorious belligerent Frieden Empire to build a supermax prison during their glory days. It was a prison made for their well-known purging of political enemies and some of the aggressive nation's most dangerous criminals.
Built into a cave that hugged a rocky valley, this facility was built to house three hundred inmates and ran at full capacity during the Empire's reign and the recent disastrous war when it had tried to invade several of its weaker neighbors. Since then, the Frieden had been relatively unstable as not everyone had vied for the same goal or method of controlling its own corner of the world. Others believed that they were being further drawn into the war that they couldn't win and thus it and its opponents agreed to an uneasy armistice. Despite the agreement, it was clear every day that the tensions between it and its main rival, the Kanto-Johto Federation were threatening to boil over and render it invalid.
With the leaders trying to keep their country together, facilities like these were closed and the inmates they housed ended up in cremated bins and given a mass grave just a quarter mile away from the entrance off to the side of the service road.
Now it had been reopened since stability had returned and they were once again preparing for a war that would inevitably happen. The Frieden had arrived at the prison to find it exactly how they had left it almost a decade ago. Impenetrable, impregnable and inescapable.
Today the weather had been cooperative after dumping six more inches of fresh snow and having the wind howl mercilessly overhead. The hollowed out trees were the only thing keeping anyone or anything from getting cold burns for that matter. The temperature had crested ten degrees; the warmest it was supposed to be that week.
A lone truck in the Frieden's utilitarian design and bleak dull blue color powered along the road, blowing out thin white trails of exhaust as it wound its way up the hill where the mouth of the cave prison sat in a monumental and imposing fashion. A fenced gate stretched about fifty feet in front with a guard ladder and tower built onto the upper lip. There was a small booth that tended to the main fence as well as leading up to two fully automatic fifty caliber machine guns trained on the vehicle when it ambled in their direction.
A lone guard inside the booth was huddled under a barely functioning heat lamp and grumbled when the truck approached. He cursed the logistics for not sending a replacement to the source that made his job tolerable before putting on a heavy coat and slinging an iconic FAL assault rifle over his shoulder. Keeping it within an easy reach, he shuffled over to the driver's side and waited.
He didn't have to for long. The window was cranked down and a pair of papers was handed over. Even though he didn't recognize the driver or the man riding shotgun, there was regular changes in shifts so he may not have to deal with the same people at the same time.
The guard was satisfied with the credentials and waved to the snow covered window. A moment later, the gate creaked open, sliding noisily with a metallic screech that permeated the sound of the wind.
Driving just under the mouth, the road was stopped by a large concrete wall with several other identical trucks parked beside. They found a spot to park and several other armed guards, now in white and gray camouflage fatigues used hand signals to help guide the driver in. Here it was mandatory that no keys were to be left in the ignition in the event a prisoner would break free and use one of the vehicles for a getaway. So he pocketed them after shutting off the engine.
The rear doors were unlocked by a different set, kept by the staff and they opened up, engulfing the entire hold with brilliant white light. One of the guards in fatigues raised a rifle into firing position; ready to gun down its lone occupant at a moment's notice.
The prisoner sat on the truck's right side with his head bowed and arms shackled together and to the floor. His legs were similarly done with the rusted metal bounds nearly twice as thick circling his thighs.
"Welcome home," The guard with the rifle greeted, "Nothing stupid yeah?"
A nod of the head confirmed the order before his partner stepped in with a key to unlock the chains around his arms and off the floor. The leg mounts remained attached; those would come off once the prisoner had officially been handed off and the warden verifying the transaction.
Shuffling his bare feet across the freezing floor, he dropped to the ground, giving off a grimace of discomfort. For several hours, he had been restrained with only a thin layer of clothing to shield him from the cold and it was difficult to shift positions. Only the truck's cabin was heated.
He was one Karl de Vaal, a notorious Frieden freelancer who had flourished as one of the most dangerous hitmen for the highest bidder on the empire's rampant human trafficking trade. Standing a few inches above six feet, his short grayish hair seemed to almost sparkle in the dank atmosphere. Upon closer inspection, the "hair" was in fact extremely detailed tattoos that went from the top of his shaved head down to his back. Although de Vaal had a solid build, many of the guards knew he wouldn't last long inside. At the same time, the intense stare of his brown irises, a rare eye color in the Frieden told them he wasn't one to back down easily.
Escorted inside another room, the temperature was just slightly warmer, but the windchill had dropped to make it tolerable.
Standing just after the entrance were two additional men, both of them much larger than de Vaal himself. Their limbs could've been as thick as tree trunks and works of ink adorned their bodies as well. In the underworld; many tattoos acted like resumes.
"Fresh meat huh?" One of them huffed, leaning against one of the columns, "That must means more mouths to feed."
"Wait until we're done with indoctrination Joseph," The guard said, "Then you can explain the rules. After all can't be choosy here."
"Fair enough." The colossal man interrupted the sequence and stood before the three. At this point, de Vaal knew that this was part of the culture in a Frieden prison. Many times, the prisoners were the ones who ran the place, rather than the ones guarding it. His actions now were about to determine his fate.
Joseph's eyes widened at the slightest fraction. Unbeknownst to him, de Vaal was watching him very closely.
He made his move.
It was literally an instant before the massive man slugged his fist into his victim's kidney in a blow that probably would've ruptured the organ. Grabbing the giant arm, he used the momentum as well as the heavier weight of his attacker was thrown forward. Next, de Vaal thrust his arm towards the concrete pillar in a hammer blow. Although cold incited numbness, pain could also become more sensitive and the hard barrier all but shattered his bones on impact.
Joseph began to collapse to the ground as de Vaal was in motion, even when the two guards and other prisoner were still in shock over the sudden turn of events. Since Joseph's partner was the bigger threat, he was targeted first. Even though he also towered over him, de Vaal used that to his advantage in launching an uppercut of a bony fist connecting right at the jawline. As the man's face went upward, Karl struck with his other arm, punching perfectly in the solar plexus. He became winded, but miraculously managed to stay on his feet for merely a moment before he too collapsed.
Something blunt impacted the back of his head with enough force to make black stars explode in his eyes. He fell to his knees, but quickly felt someone grab both of his arms and bring them together in cuffs. The practice was done smoothly and happened before he had a chance to even register what was occurring. In the background, three more guards with weapons drawn entered in the case that additional action was required.
"Good luck in here," The guard said, spitting over de Vaal and delivering a sledgehammer kick to his stomach. It wasn't long before the others had joined in and the beatings faded with unconsciousness.
When Karl de Vaal awoke, he had no clue on how much time had elapsed. There were no windows here and his internal clock had been messed up thanks to the beating he received. Bruises mottled his body, giving off a purplish tint to the gray ink on his entire torso and back.
He was now in a concrete cell that was barely big enough to stretch his aching body across its frozen floor. There was nothing inside except a small metal sink, toilet, a cot that looked as if it had never been washed and a thick steel door with two latches; one for food dispensation and another at eye level for observation.
This was solitary.
Karl de Vaal smiled to himself.
Looking down, he saw that his legs were fully shackled and in the guards' haste to beat on him had neglected to remove them. The full body search hadn't been conducted; otherwise they would've found the smuggler's belt.
Essentially the belt was entirely made of a flexible cheap metal that was hollowed out underneath the cloth and filled with things that were considered contraband or had to escape prying eyes. A small latch at the buckle would open the insides and things could be stripped out in between the fibers used to disguise it as an old worn one. Metal detectors and screenings would only see the frame when it was set off and whatever was inside could pass.
Perfect. He was home free.
Karl had instigated the fight in order to get himself thrown into solitary the moment he had arrived. Many times in prison culture, their actions would determine where one would reside in the building. By taking on the toughest guys in the room, he had already established himself with a reputation of someone not to cross.
Unhooking the smuggler's belt, the Kanto-Johto Federation Commando known as Cobalt One checked everything inside, satisfied that it was all in place. Normally, prisoners would also be bound at the waist and a guard would've been suspicious right away, but one of them was working with him alongside the driver and had done the shackling. Even the smashing of the rifle's stock to the back of his head was part of the act.
Cobalt didn't know the prison's routine, so he figured it was best to wait until he had a sense of how things went around and at the same time, recover somewhat from the beating. The operation was divided into three parts. The first one getting inside went off without a hitch.
Karl de Vaal was a real person, a gun-for-hire in the Frieden underworld that the government didn't want, but couldn't kill. So they shipped him to the ass end of the world for the rest of his life to await a trail that wouldn't happen in his lifetime.
While he was on route, a KJ Federation Commando team intercepted the truck in a seamless act and trussed the prisoner and his two guards up in an abandoned shack at the edge of the town where they had come from. The duplicates came to replace them and went on their way in minutes. Once the operation was over; an anonymous call to the town authorities would be placed and eventually the real Karl de Vaal would be once again headed to whatever fate awaited him in this frigid hellhole.
The second part; getting into solitary also went smoothly. Joseph and his goon made perfect targets for Cobalt to show off his abilities as well as inadvertently telling the guards that he was not to be mixed in general population.
It was the third part which was questionable on whether it could be pulled off. Lieutenant Commander Surge, the CO of the famous Special Forces had called their solution for this high-stakes mission impossible, yet he had fully voiced his approval and unanimously approved by Federation High Command.
Federation Commandos were well trained in breaking in and out of prisons belonging to their enemies, but as far as he knew; this was the first time any of them had attempted to break into one undercover.
Cobalt moved over to the toilet and stuck his hand down the bowl, groping around in the freezing water until he felt a thin piece of metal. Pulling it out, it was a spare copy of keys to his shackles, his cell's door and the one where his target was being held. It wasn't indicated which was which, placed there when the covert guards "escorted" him straight to solitary. Once the plan was put into motion, their informants would disappear.
He spent the next day and a half learning the routine in the solitary blocks. Since the cell numbers and blocks were painted on each door, he immediately knew of his location, having memorized the schematics in his briefing.
At roughly noon, or so he thought, there was a meal served. The bottom door slid open to push a tiny metal tray containing a bowl of cold, pungent, yellowish slop and a piece of bread that resembled a rock in both appearance and texture. Judging by the sounds the guard made of emptying the big bucket that held the gruel and tearing off bread to slide through the doors that there were eight other inmates in the block further down, meaning either he was at the end or the beginning. Nobody spoke which told him there would be further punishment if he did.
He left the food untouched when the hairy arm reached back in to retrieve the tray.
"Huh, alright then," The guard sneered to nobody in particular, "If you insist. Food's not going to get any better."
Other than the once-a-day feeding, nobody checked on the prisoners, so Cobalt set to work. After removing the shackles and stripping the smuggler's portion of the belt out, he laid its contents on the bed.
The key to the whole operation was in a half dozen capsules filled with a putty-like substance. Each capsule was the size and shape of a ketchup packet. This mortar acid was specially designed to break down the composition. At first, Cobalt panicked when the reaction wasn't instantaneous when he started at his cell's back, but eventually it ate away at the mortar. He gave rare praise to the Fed's R&D division on making up the acid and the dozen tests and mock-ops they had done. They had read through multiple classified documents on the company that had built the prison to determine its exact makeup and create the acid that worked the best. That was the official statement. In reality, a second Commando team along with a hacker working for the Federation had broken into the company's headquarters on Frieden soil and scanned the information, feeding it back to the eggheads who then got to work.
After a few minutes, Cobalt took the thin metal probe, squeezing the last of the packet on the end and smearing it on the small slit he had created. He always wanted to come prepared and had two additional packets with him, even though he had done it with four.
Like the schematic had said, there was only that one layer of wall between the cell and the edge of the building. If there was another barrier like this, he wouldn't have enough acid to go through it and this would be the shortest elaborate prison break in history.
Cobalt kicked at the block until it finally gave way and peered through the dimly lit space. Next obstacle was enormous concrete slabs with ventilation shafts that had small bits of snow filtering through the top. That was going to be his way out.
While the rest of his mortar acid would be useless, he started the next part in putting together the tiny timer and detonator. The next thing he had smuggled in, a thin pack of plastic explosives was going to punch through that like a hot knife through soft butter.
So here's the pilot chapter. I understand it doesn't make sense right now, but I promise it will all come together.
There will be character returns, new ones introduced, deaths but above all, I hope everyone gets a decent read out of this.
Thanks for reading and reviewing, you give my writing purpose.