"Fog of War"
Prologue Chapter 1: Sun Rays and Night Skies
Sunlight.
It was blinding, brilliant and beautiful. It filled the landscape with hope, warmth, affection. It threw away the darkest seeds of mankind, and bathed the world in its everlasting glow. Nothing could escape its radiance, save for the darkest cave or the deepest ocean trench, where the scourge of the earth writhed and cursed its existence. James shielded his eyes as he gazed at the perfect circle encased in a magnificent glory as it started to sink over the horizon, winking at him through the branches of the tall Oran Berry bush he was laying beneath.
He really did hate the damn sun.
For all its warmth, the sun also brought visibility; the sun never did like its earthly subjects shying away from it. It encased them all, and in doing so, revealed them all to the world they lived in. And for James, being revealed to the world – or in this case, the enemy base not two miles down the hill from his position – meant only 1 thing: a bullet right between his eyes.
"Tango-Charlie-Alpha, this is Tango-Delta-Alpha. We are cradling the monkey, over." James shook off his rambling thoughts as he listened to the radio-speak. He always hated that earpiece he had on, like many other things. The way it blared into his eardrums no matter how low he turned the volume always startled him, and if that little speaker in his ear didn't alert an enemy to his position, the occasional jump it gave him certainly would.
There's been more than one mission where that had nearly screwed him over.
"Tango-Charlie-Alpha, please confirm. Duck, you awake out there?" James sighed and pressed the mike on his neck, pausing a sec to respond. "Tango-Delta-Alpha this is Tango-Charlie-Alpha, I read you loud and clear. The Duck will crotch-kick the monkey at 0300 hours."
A noticeable pause held over the speakers before a different voice called out over the radio. "Roger Charlie, you'll get your shot. All teams are in position, ETA 1500 hours. Alpha Out." "Charlie Out."
James heard a snicker to his left as soon as he keyed off the mike. It was quickly followed by three more, two on his right and one on a ledge just below him. Of course, all of the radio-speak was hogwash to confuse the enemy. The team's had their codes helping protect what important information passed through the airwaves, and the rest…well, the rest was the reason why none of the 3rd Platoon could ever be taken seriously out on the field.
"I'm not sure if Smith is laughing or crying right about now." That snickering whisper came from his right; probably Private Jefferson, the rookie on the 5-man team. He was a late addition to the newly formed Special Intelligence Ops Task Force, as Charlie Company, of which they were a part of, had decided to go from four-man teams to five-man teams. No one really knew what difference this would make, though many speculated that it was just another reason to recruit more young blood into a growing military.
"A little of both," came the humorless reply from below. That was Specialist Brett, the second in command of the team. James rolled his eyes at this, for though Brett sounded completely stern he knew Brett was wearing a grin that could rival an Electrode's.
"Alright, enough you two. We have a serious mission here, it's the last one before we're released. Let's keep our head in the game and not on what I'm going to do to Sergeant Smith's balls after this for blaring my nick over the radio."
Snickering confirmations echoed around him, and James pressed his hand to his forehead to quell the growing headache. Can't they ever take anything s-
"Look alive! Patrol at our eight!"
The whisper was hardly a breath on the wind, but James managed to catch every word. That came from his left, Specialist Conner. James always had to give him props, for despite all the distractions in the world –and there were plenty in this group– that man could still hear a pin drop across a mall on Black Friday.
…That or he had his Sneasel out to cover for him so he was free to lollygag.
James looked over his shoulder. Through the twisting branches of the Oran bush, James could just make out the feathered left ear of Conner's Sneasel. Bastard. Lazy on the job again.
James turned his head ever so slowly to look for the patrol. He couldn't see them through the brush, but slowly and surely he could hear voices. One…Three? No…Six. A six man patrol at least. Let's just hope they don't have- A loud bark echoed beyond his sight, and quickly all six men in the patrol stopped talking and listened. -…fuck. It HAD to be a Mightyena. James froze, knowing everyone else would do the same. He listened hard, not hearing anything for a full minute; though for the team it felt like an hour.
Snap.
One of the morons had stepped on a twig, not 15 yards behind them. They were closing in, and fast.
Knowing he risked being spotted at this point, James methodically moved his right hand and brought it over his head in a sweeping motion, performing the action twice before resting it on the back of his neck. Two seconds passed before an incredibly good smell filled his nostrils, becoming even more intoxicating by the second.
James sighed in relief. Mark, or at least his Skiploom, had gotten the message. As the Sweet Scent filled the air, he heard behind him the startled, pleasant groans of the enemy patrol. The Mightyena barked in resistance, before finally falling to the alluring scent as well. Just as soon as the smell had filled his nose it vanished, and James noticed with great satisfaction that the Sweet Scent was moving; away from them. He realized that this must be the special touch of Jefferson's Ralts, using his Confusion to push the Sweet Scent, and the patrol, away from them. It wasn't long before the patrol followed, and soon enough they were gone.
James waited until Jefferson gave the "All-Clear" signal – a catcall – before releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Looking to his left and right, he could feel rather than see that all eyes were on him now. Even Brett, who had been out of sight, had crawled up from his position to get the new orders.
James took another deep breath. At least they're serious now. He looked to them one more time to make sure they were all watching before covering his mouth, then fanning his hand out, palm against the ground, and wrapping it up by covering his eyes and flashing four fingers. Everyone nodded, and turned back to observe their target.
Just four more hours...Just four more hours…
Location: Somewhere near an enemy base
Time: 23:40:15….16….17…
Silence. Nothing, save the steady breeze of cool night air rolling down from the mountains to fill the warm valleys below. The occasional Hoothoot call or Poochyena cry would end the silence, but only for a brief second before it enveloped the valley once more.
This, this is what James loved. The cool air felt like a blanket of comfort, the occasional sting of a crisp breeze letting him know that he was still alive, still breathing, still moving. The cry of distant pokémon covered the sound of his careful, near-silent footsteps – his slippers for an evening stroll. The twinkling stars and the rising crescent moon barely lit up the low-hanging branch five feet ahead of him; but to James, this was his lamppost on a dark, shady street. And finally, the darkness itself was his skin. It encompassed him, embraced him, and flowed through him. He felt no more distant from the darkness than a Magmar from boiling magma, and he was sure the darkness felt the same way. He welcomed the darkness, and it in turn supported him and his team in taking on their task.
The dark, barbed-wire fencing of the enemy base loomed just 50 yards ahead; 50 yards of no trees, no tall grass, no nothing to cover their approach. The five members of Jason's team waited, hiding, in the tree line just beyond the range of the spotlights that covered the open expanse, spanning out over a distance of 20 yards from Conner, on his far left, to Jefferson on his far right. James looked for a ready confirmation from all of them, and received four 'thumbs up' – the 'Go Ahead" signal.
Quietly, James dropped two Duskballs to his feet. They broke open upon hitting the ground, concealing the pokémon in a dark glow before revealing their forms: an Umbreon and a Pikachu. Both shook off the feeling of suddenly returning to reality before turning their attention to him. James picked up the balls before quietly saluting to Jefferson's Ralts, who nodded and began to glow with a blue aura, which encompassed James' pokémon and himself as well.
Lune, Flash, I need you to get past the spotlights and take one out. We just need one down, and only for a short time so we can get up to the fence. Make it short-out, but restore power just as we arrive.
James drew his right hand quickly across his neck, and the blue aura disappeared. His pokémon nodded, and Ace climbed up on the back of Lune, his lightning tail swaying a bit to gain balance as he climbed. As soon as the Pikachu was ready, Lune was off and out of James' sight soon after.
The team didn't have to wait five minutes before one of the lights started flickering, on and off for another five minutes before finally shutting off completely. James tomahawked his right hand forward, and the team swiftly sprinted across the expanse. True to their word, just as they reached the fence not even two minutes later the spotlight suddenly flicked back on, sweeping the area around it erratically.
James dropped another Duskball, this one breaking open to reveal a Quilava. James nodded towards the fence, and the Quilava nodded back. Quietly, without flaring her rear and head flames, she began to burn through the fence in a small circular pattern. James turned and looked beyond the fence. He could see several bodies up and about, some standing guard but a few were headed for the recently-shorting spotlight tower to their left.
No sooner than James could get antsy about waiting did the small patch of fence fall through, and Jefferson immediately made the plunge with Conner right behind him. They all filed through, with Quilava bringing up the rear and sealing the fence back together behind them. James waited by the fence with his pokémon while the other three rushed off to take up positions alongside the tents 10 yards away. When she was done, James nodded a 'good job' before tapping her on the head with her ball, sucking her back inside.
They couldn't have too many pokémon running around or they'd get spotted for sure.
James looked around carefully, before rushing over to join his team. Reaching around behind him, he pulled out a laminated piece of paper and unfolded it in front of him on last time. The paper showed a rough sketch of the base, with black pen marks overtop the lamination showing their team's objectives.
James studied the map for a second, before crawling to the edge of the tent and peeking around the corner. There were only a few lights on in the camp at this hour, which James found odd. Usually, these places tried to light themselves up, which made their job of sneaking through the base extremely difficult. In the distance on the left side of the tent row, he spotted a Red Cross on a flagpole with a white border around it – the Medical Tent. James consulted his map again before looking back towards the flag, softly fluttering in the evening breeze.
James would've swore if he didn't think someone might hear him.
Their team was on the wrong side of the guard tower; they should've had the tower on their right, not their left. Instead of having a straight-shot to the HQ, where they would meet up with Smith's team to achieve their objective, they now had to take a round-about way to avoid the large open expanse of the ceremonial grounds, which stood just on the other side of the medical center and barracks to their left. Instead they'd have to pass between the medical center and the mess hall, where teams one and two would be conducting their objectives. James shut his eyes for a second to think of any possible way out of this.
Shouting from the guard tower about something shorting out gave him his answer.
James turned to his team and signaled their modified plan. After several hesitant nods, He turned back to the far side of the tent row and gave a left-handed salute – he knew Lune and Ace would get the signal to proceed on their own.
He turned and took point, crouch-walking his way over to the alleyway between two large barrack-tents before disappearing between them. His team followed, and they slowly made their way through the maze of tents that undoubtedly housed perhaps hundreds of soldiers, all of them armed to the teeth just as they were.
After slowly making their way through the tent maze, they finally came to what looked like the end of this particular row of tents. The end opened up into a small courtyard, with the mess-hall on one end, another tent row of some sort directly across from them, and the medical tent sitting at their 10. Another tent row of barracks sat to their 3, making the courtyard a mini five-way intersection; four too many intersections for James' liking. Hesitantly, James poked his head out around the corner for a split second before ducking back, hoping to see nothing impeding their progress. However, the two soldiers sitting outside the medical tent quickly foiled any hopes he may have had. James held up a fist behind him, flashing to fingers before putting his hand down. This would be tricky, as the courtyard was lit up and there was no place for them to cross safely without getting spotted. They could backtrack, but they had already taken too much time. James took another look, this time laying himself on the ground and taking a long look at the entire courtyard. He could see no other movements or troops besides the two standing at attention in front of the medical tent, and they were surprisingly attentive. Too attentive.
James crawled back, bringing his group into a 'huddle' of sorts in the confines of the alleyway. Jefferson brought out his Ralts again, and they all placed a finger on the pokémon to connect with it. Openly using a psychic move was too risky at this point, as another psychic pokémon could pick up the energy signal and alert the base to exactly their position.
However, Jefferson had taught his Ralts a little trick; though it couldn't telecommunicate without using a pokémon move like psychic, he could transfer images from one person to another without using anything more than his natural gift.
James conveyed the image to Ralts, and after a brief time they all withdrew their hands from the pokémon. James looked around the group for suggestions, before Conner stood up and crouched past James. He pulled his second pokéball from his belt, and released a Seviper. James watched the handsignal exchange between him and his pokémon, trying to get a sense of what his plan was. Conner then backed up, allowing the snake to take up the entire exit. He patted his pokémon on the tail, before drawing a knife from his thigh and tapping it once against a sizable rock on the ground.
Clink.
Though he was sure the sound was hardly audible, it sounded like a grenade to James who had been careful this whole time not let a blade of grass crunch beneath his feet. He wondered what in the hell Conner was thinking before he heard both of the guards approach their hiding spot. A silent pause followed, and James wondered if they reconsidered before both of the guards jumped around the corner, one staying to the near side while the other wrapping around to the far side of the tents they were hiding behind, both with their AK-47's drawn and aimed right down the row towards their group.
No one moved. James had locked eyes with the first guard, who was staring angrily right back at him. After what seemed like an eternity – or the world's most interesting staring contest- it finally dawned on James what had happened.
Glare. Seviper had frozen the guards in place before they even had a chance to acknowledge that there was indeed five black-clothed guys crouched in a line between the two tent rows.
Conner quietly returned his pokémon before standing up, James doing the same behind him. Cautiously, they approached the two soldiers who hadn't moved a muscle since coming in contact with them; not that they could anyways.
Conner peeked out past the guards before giving James the thumbs up. James nodded, and together they grabbed the second guard and dragged him back into the alleyway, careful to break his deathgrip on the trigger before doing so. They handed him off to their teammates before grabbing the first guard – the one James had locked eyes with – and doing the same.
After dragging him a sufficient distance out of sight, James removed the magazine from the rifle and silently emptied the chamber. He then took out one of his own knives, a dagger tucked away in the small of his back, with his left hand before bringing it swiftly across the guard's neck. The guard's eyes went wide – sorta – for a split second before relaxing, the orange neon paint covering much of the front of his neck from his chin to his shoulders. James replaced the paint knife in its holster, taking care to wipe his finger around the edge to clean up any spillage and wipe off on the guard's bulletproof vest. The guard locked eyes with him again, and even though he knew the guard was "out of commission", something unnerved him about that stare.
A tap on his right shoulder shook him from his contest, and he turned to face Brett. The specialist pointed down towards the rifle still lying across the guards' chest. James sent him a confused look, which Brett must've picked up, because he reached over him and the guard to pick up the magazine he ejected from the rifle. Turning it over, Brett presented the open end of the mag to James.
It took a half-second for James to realize that the magazine was filled with live ammunition.
Since when the fuck did live ammunition become a part of a fucking training mission?
James whipped out his map again quickly, and scanned over it thoroughly. The base was set up with the Medical Tent, Mess Hall, and HQ all in relatively close quarters, with the HQ being off to the side and the other two relatively close to the center. There was nothing unusual about the setup except for one thing: the tent rows. They were lined up in an arrangement that allowed virtually anyone walking the alleyways direct access to the HQ, medical tent, and mess hall areas with very little open ground to cover. Any other base would have openings or gaps, which would force and infiltration team to either split up or wind their way through the base, taking precious time and energy. Combined with the unusual lighting, lack of guards, and they face that these ones were carrying live ammo all added up to one thing.
Trap.
James looked around, his teammates either having already come to the same conclusion or probably darn near to it. He reached around his belt and grabbed another Duskball, this one opening up to reveal his Swellow. Ralts came out of hiding from behind his trainer. Never had James been more appreciative of the pokémon than now for its special gift. Undoubtedly the base was crawling with psychic pokémon, waiting for them to make a stupid move that would get them all killed. James' team and Swellow touched Ralts, and James thought out his new plan to everyone. James' Swellow withdrew its wing first, silently taking off and disappearing into the night sky. Jefferson withdrew Ralts, and he and Mark nodded to each other before working their way back down the alleyway, back the way they had just come. Conner and Brett nodded as well, and the two looked out towards the courtyard before sprinting across, passing the mess hall and disappearing. James waited a full minute, before sprinting towards the medical tent, passing it on his left and ducking into the alleyway created by another Tent Row.
The "plan", if you could call it that, was simple enough.
His Swellow was to exit the base area and warn Lieutenant Perse about the situation, who was in command of the platoon and was waiting in reserve with his team so he could monitor the situation from afar. The platoon always acted as five separate but unified teams, with four teams doing the work and one team holding back just in case, and the teams took turns playing "bitch". Though James didn't exactly agree with the sit-and-watch tactic, he nevertheless had to admit the Ell-Tee was a capable leader…well, at least until this shit hit the fan. Hopefully he'd be able to figure out something before things got hairy. Conner and Brett would intercept team's one and two, hopefully before they caused a ruckus trying to achieve their objective. From there they'd evacuate with their teams, meeting back up with them at the safe zone. Hopefully 2nd Lieutenant Keitell wouldn't be super-pissed at being overruled by a mere Sergeant, though James was fairly sure he would. Mark and Jefferson would head back to their teams entrance point, taking care to make sure the area was secure when James came hauling back through the camp. As for James, he had the most fun job of them all…
…saving 2nd Lieutenant Smith's sorry ass. True, he really did like Ell-Tee Smith the most out of all of his CO's, but the relationship between him and the Lieutenant was…interesting, to say the least.
James shook the thoughts from his head as he half-ran, half-crouch-walked the length of the allyway, peeking out between two tents to check and see if the area was clear before ducking across a road and behind some sort of storage building. As he cut through the winding buildings, he no longer focused on how silent he was, but more on getting to Smith ASAP. In order to do that, he had to circle almost completely around the far side of the HQ Building, passing what James guessed were simp-
-well, hello Mr. Armory. I almost missed you in all the rush.
James indeed had literally passed the tent, noticing the lettering from a back entrance. Why the Armory needed a back entrance he couldn't say, but still; don't let a good thing go to waste.
Thinking on the fly, James gave three short whistles before ducking behind a stack of crates. He waited a few minutes, then peered overtop the crates, seeing his Umbreon and Pikachu looking a little worn out but nonetheless fine. He tapped his finger on the crate, and his pokémon turned and joined him. Pressed for time, James broke protocol and whispered his instructions to the two.
"This is the Armory. I don't care how you do it, but in five minutes blow it up. Get out alive at all costs; use Allei to escape." James spoke softly and rapidly, unclipping the last Duskball on his belt. Lune nodded with Ace, who took the ball from James' hands. James looked over his shoulder to confirm that he was still in the clear before leaving the two to their…fun.
As he ran, James heard gunfire and shouting off in the distance. He didn't bother to figure out where, he just kept running – even as soldiers climbed out of their tents right next to him to see what all the commotion was.
He could only hope no one noticed him as he ran.
Finally, he was at the HQ building. Honestly, it felt like it took him forever to get there, but checking his watch it read 00:52:45…46...47…just an hour and 15 minutes-ish since the start of the mission; and only three minutes since he left his pokémon.
Come on come on where are you guys…James thought to himself anxiously. He peered out to where he guessed the team would be – a tent row that lead almost right up to the back side of the HQ Building. The building was only two stories, but it was still the most imposing structure on the whole base. Looking around he could see several guards patrolling the area, looking incredibly antsy but nonetheless vigilant. He wondered why they hadn't left as well to investigate the gunfire, but shook that off for now; he had to find Delta Team.
A hand on his shoulder and James instantly whirled on his assailant, driving him back and off-balance while spinning and simultaneously pulling out both daggers from behind his back with his right and left hands, bringing the fake one instinctively to the neck of his opponent and the real one, in his right hand, to his opponent's gut-
-before realizing he had just nearly stabbed the guy he came to rescue.
Pausing a second as they locked eyes before withdrawing both blades to their proper holsters. James took a few deep breaths, reminding himself not to yell at Smith and tell him what a frickin' idiot he was for sneaking up on him without giving him the freaking sign and counter-sign…none of that mattered at the moment.
Smith helped push those thoughts away with his own questions. "Where the hell's your team Martin? And what's with that shooting? What the hell have you been doing all this time?" Smith's agitation was apparent since he was breaking protocol, which he almost never did…and James was sure having a dagger pressed against his gut didn't help matters.
"Smith, we're dead if we stay here. They're using live ammunition. They've had us pegged from the start. I've sent my team to clear a path and warn Perse, so we need to get the hell out of here now."
As if to make his point, James nodded to the other five team members gathered behind Smith and started to motion for them to go back through the alleyway he had come from. Before he got a step though, Smith grabbed his shoulder again, this time turning James towards himself. "Now wait just a damn-
Boom.
He didn't so much hear as much as he felt the explosion, as it knocked James flat on his can. The rest of the team struggled to get up, and James found that his ears were ringing.
Well, that wasn't good.
James shook his head clear, or at least tried to, and looked towards the other team members who were all signaling the same thing; they couldn't hear either. James grabbed whoever was closest to him and got his attention, before lifting him to his feet and dragging him along behind him. He knew the rest would have to follow.
As soon as the man got his footing he let go, stumbling more than running his way through the camp. There was absolute chaos as fire times rushed to the scene, people were running around screaming, and he was pretty sure he saw an arm lying in the middle of the roadway. If he had stopped to think about it, it would have been extremely eerie to witness this without being able to hear at all.
Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was just all the confusion, perhaps God himself was guiding James to safety, but somehow they got past the explosion, past most of the barracks, and had even managed to find his way back towards the medical tent. Now it was just the long march down tent row before they were at the guard tower from which they entered and they were home free.
Unfortunately, James hadn't counted on the explosion creating a flood of activity at the once-barren medical tent. The entire area was lit up like a Christmas tree, and with each passing minute more stretchers filled the courtyard and soldiers with guns stood watching and waiting.
James turned and pointed towards the space between the two guard towers, where he knew Jefferson and Mark would still be waiting despite probably being terrified out of their minds at this point. The others nodded in understanding, to which James gave them a mock salute before heading out into the open.
Was it stupid? Yes. Would he get killed? Probably. But as he strode out into the middle of the road, where startled soldiers coming from the Medical Tent greeted him with raised guns and vocal orders he couldn't possibly have heard, he didn't really care about any of that. All he cared about was that he got that team back to base safe and sound. He raised his hands in surrender, dropping his last Duskball as he did so. The soldiers yelled and yelled but it didn't matter, for when the ball opened up and his Flygon Yena came bursting out, he knew it was all over…for them at least.
He uttered just a single word before all hell broke loose again.
Outrage.
And she did.
A/N:
Welp, I'm finally back in business. Found the motivation to write another story, so I've giving it my all in this multi-chaptered one.
A few notes:
1) Please Read AND Review!
2) Updates will come when I am ready to post them, and not a second sooner.
3) If you wish, I will be accepting OC's. HOWEVER, if you wish to submit an OC for this story, you must submit via PM (Private Messaging) only. Any characters submitted via Review will be considered ineligible and your review may be reported. This is in accordance with rules and guidelines.
4) Disclaimer:I do not own Pokemon. Pokemon was originally created by Satoshi Tajiri, and is owned by Game Freak Inc. I do, however, reserve the right to own my characters, as does anyone who submits a character to the story have a right to "own" their particular character.
This will be the first and last author's note, unless more become nessesary (I hope not).
Thanks, and enjoy!