The A-Team:
The Omega Factor
Credit: Given to the makers and producers of The A-Team television series & 2010 movie production. Thank you for the inspiration!
Preface:
She was silent as she stared at their game plan, laid out in front of them. Hours of thinking, hours of planning. And here it was, ready for action. The woman looked up; four other faces looked back at her— all faces which she had grown used to, and now she was faced with the fact that they might not come out alive after this. One particular creased face met her gaze directly.
"Do you think it'll work?" the woman asked softly, "do you think we have a chance?" A small smile crept up on the other's face.
"Of course it will," the man replied, reassurance in his voice. "You wanna know why?"
The woman grinned as the man pulled out a long cigar and stuck it in his mouth, grinning back at her.
"Because our plans always come together. And I love it when a plan comes together."
Chapter 1: Disgrace
"Captain Jacqueline Elizabeth West, by the power of the United States Armed Forces, and the Government of our great country, you have now been stripped of all previous titles and ranks, and you will be sentenced to up to 15 years in military prison. We regret to inform you that all contact with outside persons, including family, will be prohibited and you will be held under constant supervision by your fellow officers. We hope military confinement will cause you to reflect on what you've been sentenced for."
Jacqueline West almost felt like screaming. However, going into a rampage was not something she normally felt like doing, but, like any American soldier, pride for her name and her rank was something that came naturally during training. And now that was being stripped away. Jacqueline stood as erect as a flag pole as an officer walked up to her and reached up to pull the metal pins off of her shoulders. She tried her hardest not to let herself instinctively reach up and grab the hand, twisting it and contorting it until the soldier screamed in agony. But, instead, she only stood there and let the officer pull off the pins that signified her rank individually. As she stood there, she wondered how other individuals in this similar situation had felt. Multiple times, no doubt, she remembered, that she had heard the stories of others being dishonourably discharged and court marshaled, and she had even witnessed a few of the cases with her own innocent eyes. But now she was standing there, herself, being committed to a military prison, knowing that by the time she got out, she would never be the same. She would be condemned, for the rest of her natural life. The reality of it struck Jacqueline quite hard, almost bringing her to tears.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Miss West?" the judge asked, his voice slightly off as he spoke. Jacqueline looked up at him, her face unreadable. She briefly thought about what she could say. She could plead not-guilty again. They wouldn't believe her, though, she thought. They didn't when she was tried in the first court. She could give them one last truth-filled and heart-wrenching sentence, like she had heard others give, to prove her worth as an honest soldier, and to give them something to chew on while she was locked away and her lawyers and friends fought for her freedom. But no words of dare or challenge came to mind that she could offer them.
"No, your Honor."
The judge looked at her, his face cold and hard, like a stone. Jacqueline looked at the other faces surrounding the judge, fellow officers and Generals that she knew; at least, she was beginning to know. She noticed their cold demeanor as well. They were all condemning her. Condemning her to a fate that Jacqueline finally realized she could not escape— a fate that would indefinitely change her character.
At last another officer took Jacqueline under the arm, leading her out and away from the court room. And those were the first of the hands that would take her from place to place, never releasing her. Jacqueline forced herself not to scream, or cry, or make any sort of emotional outburst, even a slight frown. She kept her face impassive. She kept her soul impassive.
3 Years Later
"Mornin', Jack," a uniform-clad man said as he walked into an open cell where someone was lying on a cot. A small grunt was heard over in the corner where the person was. The man stopped, looking up from a tray of food and a small clipboard that he was holding.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked quietly. The person grunted again.
"Is it because I called you Jack?" the man added, and he got a look on his face that showed slight tension.
"No, Bill, not because you called me Jack," the voice replied, finally audible. The person moved from the cot, sitting up slowly. The person, a woman, looked up, her face sickly and pale.
"Oh great. Sick again," Bill said, and he placed the tray of food down on a metal chair next to him. He cautiously walked over to the woman, looking at her with a wary sort of expression. Jacqueline West looked up at the man, Bill, her eyes encircled with purple, her face insipid.
"It's this stupid place." She said hoarsely. Bill cracked a small smile.
"You always say that," he replied. Jacqueline looked down, saddened. Bill's grin faded and he looked down at Jacqueline, noticing her depressed demeanor.
"What is it?" Bill asked, concerned.
"It's today."
Bill paused, not really sure what to say.
"I know it's never easy—" he started Jacqueline looked up, a look on her face that could've been anger, but it was too mixed with grief to even begin to look like fire.
"It's been three years, Bill. Three. And to think… nothing has changed. And I still have… oh, yeah, that's right, twelve years to go."
"Jacqueline, their still working it out—"
"Stop Bill," Jacqueline said sharply, ice in her voice, "you know as well as I do, they gave up the fight years ago. They don't care anymore. I'm not important to them; I never got to know them. Just another harebrained case, that's all I was." Bill was silent at that, knowing it was pointless to argue with Jacqueline about the case that happened three years ago. Her case. Jacqueline sighed, sinking back into her depressed state again, and she pulled out a small photograph from underneath her pillow.
"I wonder how he's doing…" she said quietly, looking at the photo, sorrow filling her voice again.
"I'm sure he's fine," Bill muttered, trying not to say much for fear of Jacqueline's mood swings.
"I mean, I never got to say goodbye…" Jacqueline added. Bill sighed, and finally he sat down across from Jacqueline on a hard metal chair. He thought a moment on how to treat her, and realizing it would take the work of a trained soldier, so he straightened up and narrowed his eyes menacingly.
"Jacqueline, look at me," he said firmly. Automatically, like she was trained, Jacqueline looked up at Bill, meeting his eyes fully, finally. He was staring at her with clout, and Bill recalled fleetingly that, at first, Jacqueline would always meet this look with such defiance that she looked like a panther ready to strike. But now that look was gone from her eyes, leaving acquiescence and despair, as though the panther had been captured and locked away under the imprisonment. Only after three years.
"Jacqueline, you've been here three years. I know it's hard. But you have to look at the factual side of things, even if their not bright; you're gonna be here for a while, you can't deny it. People are still fighting for your case, even if you don't think they are. And you've got people, even here, who still care about you. Take me for example. I'm stuck with your butt until I get a better job, but I'll stick with you until the end, alright?"
Jacqueline actually cracked a smile at that, feeling slightly better about how the day was going.
"Now, soldier, are you gonna sit there and sulk about what today is? Or are you gonna make a better day of it?" Bill added, his voice becoming rough and stern to match his look, like the drill sergeants at basic training.
"Yes sir, I will make a better day of this," Jacqueline said, and she gathered up all of the energy that she could to sit up straighter.
"Good," Bill said, and he stood up. Jacqueline followed him, standing up as well. She met his height, even slightly taller.
"You'll make a good general some day, Bill," Jacqueline said, and she smiled slightly. Bill smiled just slightly back.
"Thank you, Captain." Jacqueline turned to leave her cell, Bill coming up alongside of her to take her arm.
"Oh, and West," Bill added. Jacqueline turned to him.
"You didn't salute me this morning."
Jacqueline felt her eyes narrow with a bit of her usual defiance, but she raised her hand in salute anyway to her commanding officer. Even though Bill was technically a rank below Bill, herself having become a Captain before she was sentenced to prison, since she was stripped of her title, she was forced to salute those of the Lieutenant rank and higher. For a moment, Jacqueline felt a slight bit of relief in remembering that Bill at least treated her as an equal, and not a convict, proving that she was still a human being, and there were still people who cared, even in this hell-hole.
"As you were," Bill said, smiling again. Jacqueline rolled her eyes, and she let Bill take her arm. He led her out off the cell again, taking the tray of breakfast and the clipboard with him. As they walked down the hall, Jacqueline thought a moment.
"Bill," she said quietly, "I was wondering something…"
"Yes?" Bill asked. Jacqueline was silent for only a moment as she thought of how to ask her question. Bill, on the other hand, knew what was coming. Jacqueline usually asked it after a day like today, when she was depressed and moody, and Bill found a way to cheer her up, even just slightly.
"Do you think…? Do you think I'm innocent?" she finally asked, her voice very hushed and small, like a child. Bill was silent. He thought about her question. He thought about how much he wanted to answer her question, and what it would mean to her if he did. And he also thought about what he vowed to do, and what was at stake if he did answer her question.
"I can't answer that question, Jack."
Jacqueline smiled bitterly. She asked that question multiple times, and he always gave the same answer. She sighed before replying.
"I knew you'd say that."