Lost In Translation

by Rookie571

A three-man US Army Special Forces team gets the unlucky and mundane task, of protecting some higher-up public servant in one of the wards of Tokyo. But unbeknownst to them, this usually boring assignment is going to spice things up in ways they don't want it to go.

"Hawkeye, this is Sierra Three." The overhead speakers squawked loudly. "How copy, over?"

"That's a solid, Three. Send traffic, over."

"I got eyes on the HVI just killing time in the café, el-tee. Approximate five-zero meters away just west of my pos, over."

"He alone, Sierra Three?"

"Affirmative, sir. But the way that he's looking around though, it kinda looks like he's expecting some company. Could be a date."

"Jesus." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was entirely unexpected. "Think you can handle them, Jack?"

"Sure," the other voice in the line cheerfully responded after a brief laugh. "so long as the bastard's bringing over a hot chick, I'm totally cool with it. Gives me something pretty to look at other than him, anyhow."

"Amen to that, brother. Anyways, keep me informed of anything out of the ordinary, will ya?"

"Solid copy, Hawkeye. You, uh, want me to paint you a description of the probable chick once she's in the AO, over?"

"Hmmm…I don't see why not, Sierra Three. Fine. You have clearance to transmit if said chick is an eight out of a scale of ten." This elicited another laugh from the guy on the other end of the protection op.

"Acknowledged, Hawkeye. I'll see what I can do. Sierra Three, out."

With a barely suppressed sigh, First Lieutenant Matthew Walker returned the radio transceiver back unto its cradle a little bit harder than usual. Cursing inwardly, the young Special Forces officer still couldn't believe why he was chosen to lead this little force protection detail they had going on at the moment. Out of all the Foreign Service specialists the embassy here had right now—God knows they have more than enough—they had to choose him and his three-man team to carry out this assignment; even when they could be doing some really vital work elsewhere around the globe, or anything better to do other than this for that matter.

What was so important about this guy that they had to be stuffed in a surveillance van and ordered to protect and tail him from a distance? Based on the small dossier he was given and what little information inside he was allowed to see, the middle-aged Jap they were guarding was some kind of semi-important city official that had access and authority to most parts of this ward in Tokyo. But other than that, there wasn't really anything special about the guy.

Still, whoever this gentleman was to the interests of the US federal government, he was deemed highly important enough to be warranted protection from a team of elite US Army Special Forces operators straight out of Kuwait. To think, if he and his team weren't called out do this particular job, he could be in plane heading back to Long Beach right about now to his friends and family.

So much for dedication. He grimly thought to himself.

"God, this sucks…" the soldier manning a computer console next to him said out loud in irritation.

"I hear ya, Sarge." Walker responded in understanding to his teammate and friend as he lifted his legs and propped them in the table. They were going to be here for a while, might as well make the most of it.

"Why can't the good 'ole folks at the embassy deal with this kinda crap?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Bob."

"Figures." Sergeant Robert Waters mumbled in annoyance. He couldn't really blame the guy for hating this assignment. Sitting down and doing practically next to nothing was not how they all envisioned their careers in the Army would be.

"Who knows," the young lieutenant continued in guarded optimism, "if we play our cards right and this op doesn't go sideways, we could be taking the next Starlifter out of Yokota and headed straight for home."

"Maybe." Waters answered in agreement, then slightly turned his head to the right to put the officer in his peripheral vision. "Hey, el-tee?"

"Yeah, Sarge?"

"What's the first thing that you're going to do after we're done with this godforsaken op and headed for home?"

"Hmmm, well…" he started stroking his chin in thought. "First thing I'll probably do is get a burger from In-N-Out, I guess." This got an incredulous snort out of the NCO.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Really?"

"Why the hell not?" he asked, a tad bit defensively. "There's nothing wrong with getting a damned good burger."

"Dude, they serve burgers in the fucking mess hall. And they aren't really all that bad. I mean, hell, I honestly thought they were good."

"True. But have you ever had a Double-Double, Animal Style?"

"Oh, for the love of God…" Waters put a hand in his face for a completely obvious face palm. "Here we go again."

"Hey, don't give me that shit." He stated to his fellow operator. "I kid you not when I say that they're the best fucking burgers in the whole goddamned world. Two hamburger patties and two slices of cheese cooked in a thin layer of mustard. After that, there's the lettuce, tomato, pickles, gri—"

"—grilled onions and extra spread, yeah I know." Waters finished for him. "This ain't the first time you've tried to convince me about how damn good a burger it is, sir."

"I'm just saying, Sarge. It's pretty fucking amazing."

"You told me that, too."

"I mean, seriously—"

"So, what's the HVI look like again?" Waters asked out of the blue, in a clearly apparent way to change the subject. The lieutenant looked a bit flustered for a moment, then regained his posture quickly to acquiesce in his subordinate's extremely sudden query. He really hated when Waters did that.

But it was, in all respects, a legitimate method to ask for more intel regarding the HVI—or High Value Individual—that they were assigned to protect. Even if it was a convenient way to change the topic. He moved a bit near the driver's seat and rifled through the miniature file cabinet to look for a particular folder, which he found a little bit later and had spread open on the small table near the portable radio transceiver.

Besides the photocopied profile of the official, there was a small colored portrait of the guy in a blue uniform with darker blue shoulder boards. Whether he was military or law enforcement, Walker didn't really know, or even bothered to care at this point. But what he could see now was an older man with brown eyes sporting short and neatly trimmed black hair on top, and a thin well-maintained mustache on the upper lip to go along with it.

The file next to the picture said he was about forty five years old, with a height of five-foot-ten, weighing about a hundred and eighty pounds; and after that, there was nothing of interest left for him to know besides a few commendations and other assorted crap from the city mayor. To say this dossier was lacking in actionable intel was a complete and utter understatement.

"Guy kinda looks badass," Waters commented when he grabbed the photo to take a closer look. "Look at him, this guy clearly has a face that says, 'I am not to be fucked with'."

"No shit. Then again, when it comes to these Japs, they aren't the type of people to be taken lightly."

"A-fucking-men to that." The NCO remarked as he put the picture down and when through the guy's photocopied profile, then frowned after going through it. "Christ, the State Department weenies didn't even bother putting out a decent fucking dossier for us. My two year-old could've done better than this."

"That's bureaucracy for ya." Walker quipped, then turned serious. "Hey, Sarge?"

"Yeah, el-tee?"

"What do you think of this place?"

"What, Tokyo?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, it's not really all that bad." Waters answered back as he returned the photo and the profile inside the folder. "Considering that every bit of everything in this place is so tightly packed that it's bordering on ridiculous, and almost every native that I've seen so far is really short and almost always has squinty eyes."

"That's a really astute assessment, bro." The lieutenant responded dryly.

"I'm just saying, man. We've only been here for about, what? Seventeen hours or so?"

"Somewhat."

"I don't think I've seen enough of the city yet to make out a feel for this place."

"Yeah, well, that's a good point."

"But, in all honestly though, I just hope that the food here doesn't taste like ass."

Walker laughed out loud to that, and was about to ask how his NCO knew what ass tasted like when the portable radio set beeped twice, indicating an incoming transmission. He looked at Waters for a moment, then just shook his head and smiled for a moment as he grabbed the transceiver to answer the call.

"This is Hawkeye, send traffic."

"El-tee, Sierra Three here."

"Go ahead, Three."

"You are never going to believe this, sir."

"For fuck sakes', spit it out Jack. We're bored enough here as it is."

"Confirm, I have eyes on HVI's plus one, over."

"Well?"

"You said to transmit if she was an eight out of ten or higher, right?"

"Jack," he responded with slightly gritted teeth. "if you don't go out with it right now, I'm going to be really pissed."

"Getting there, sir." Corporal John 'Jack' Thompson calmly replied on the other line, voice filled with barely contained excitement. "Well, you see, the chick that I'm currently, uh, 'observing' speaking with the HVI is a solid twelve. Sir."

"That is bullshit." Sergeant Waters said out loud in response. "There's no such thing, like, ever."

"I shit you not, Sarge. And even if I did, I wouldn't dare lie about this girl, sir. I mean, for Christ's sakes, she's fucking perfect. Head to fucking toe, over."

"That lucky middle-aged bastard," Lieutenant Walker grumbled to himself without transmitting then let out a subdued sigh. "So, this is where my career has gone too…"

"I think this is, by far, the most excitable thing we've ever encountered on this trip since we left the embassy bathroom eight hours ago, sir."

"I can't believe that spying on this fucking date is pretty much the highlight of our miserable mission here." He said out loud to nobody in particular.

"Well," Waters remarked, "there are worse ways to run a surveillance, sir."

"I don't doubt it. Still, this sucks."

"I know. But believe it or not, this is figuratively and literally better than doing nothing. Sir."

"I guess." He thought about it for a few more seconds, then shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'fuck it' and see where this lowly op was going to take them. Lord knows this wasn't what he had in mind to serving his country when he signed up for the Army six years ago. He pressed the Transmit button. "Alright, Jack, what's she look like?"

"Like a goddamned angel, sir."

"Specifics, dumbass."

"She's petite, like five-foot-three or four-ish maybe; with a face looking like a fucking goddess, has really long raven blue hair, and her eyes. Oh my God, her eyes…" Jack sounded like he was fucking smitten with the lady in question.

"Get a grip, Corporal." Walker reprimanded in a stern voice. "Remember, this is still a damned mission. Regardless of how stupid and pointless it may be…"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Where was I again?"

"Something about her eyes." Sergeant Waters answered without missing a beat, getting a questioning look from his superior. "What? You're not the only who's bored out of his mind here. Sir."

"Oh yeah! Guys, her eyes are fucking blue! I kid you not."

"Contact lenses, maybe? The sergeant asked.

"That is a negative, sir. I know what those things look like up close. So believe me when I say her eyes are 'au naturale', sir."

"How the hell would you know if her eyes are natural, Corporal?" he asked towards his other subordinate in disbelief. "You're like fifty meters away from th—wait…"

"Yeaaah, about that…"

"Corporal, goddamn it," the lieutenant asked in a really restrained tone of voice which he paired with a face palm, "tell me you didn't…"

"In the, uh, interest of attaining much more detailed intel regarding the HVI and the plus one, I had taken the initiative of closing the distance. Sir."

"How close, exactly?" Waters asked.

"Uh, say again, you're kinda breaking up. Repeat last—"

"How close, Corporal?" Walker asked.

"Uh, okay, don't get mad, but it was a little bit closer than usual, el-tee."

"Damn it, Jack! How fucking close?" The sergeant inquired, this time a little bit more forcefully.

"Ten meters."

"Why, Corporal, in God's good name would you go that close?!"

"It really seemed like a good idea at that time, Sarge."

"Back off, now. Get your ass out of there and put some goddamned distance before you compromise yourself and this op. "

"Don't worry about it too much, fellas." Jack assured them on the tactical VHF line. "This ain't like that time we were tailing that Republican Guard officer in southern Iraq. We'll be long gone before they even—shit!"

"Sierra Three, what's going on?" The lieutenant asked fervently on the line. "Sierra Three, come in! Jack?"

"Goddamn cocky son-of-a-bitch." Waters cursed out loud while clenching his fist. He was feeling the same way his NCO felt right this moment. Anger. Indignation. It was perfectly understandable at a time like this, when the supposedly boring and easy op had hit a snag because of an extremely overconfident operator.

"Sierra Three, this is Hawkeye at Sierra Central. Acknowledge, over."

"What do you think this means?" the older NCO asked him.

"I don't know," he replied while moving towards the driver's seat of the van. Waters followed suit and wordlessly went to the passenger side. "but I do know that if worse comes to worse, we'll meet him at the emergency RV sooner or later."

"Damn right." The sergeant commented as he fastened his seatbelt. "When I find the arrogant prick, I'm gonna kill him.

"Get in line." The van rumbled to life as the key turned on the ignition. And about five seconds later, they were speeding off to rendezvous with someone going to a pre-positioned location, who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place.