Things were good, things were fine, and everything was going exactly as she predicted. At least, that's what Serval thought to herself as she tensed her legs for yet another pounce.
The Savanna cat leapt from one branch to the next, following close behind the mysterious green Friends that threatened to whisk away, just as silent as they came, deeper and deeper into the jungle.
Wind whistled past her long golden ears as she darted between trees, vines and leaves, the whispers of the river mist fading further and further behind her.
Serval figured that, by jumping from tree to tree, she would stay out of sight and keep contact on the others, which got harder and harder the deeper into the jungle they got. It seemed as though they were heading inland, far beyond the Savanna and along the river. Serval knew there was nothing exciting there. There weren't many Friends there either. But maybe… maybe that was it! Maybe those Friends just wanted another person to play with. That must be it.
Their territory must get lonely because they are violent.
Something must've gone wrong, Serval thought, noticing a sharp, feathered rod lodged deep in her thigh. In that instant, Serval buckled, losing her grip on the tree trunk and nearly slipped off the bark. For some reason, she wondered how much it might hurt if she fell all the way down to the jungle floor.
Uttering incoherent whispers, Serval found her knees quivering, head pulsating, and mind fading with a most unwelcome and abrupt migraine.
There were voices, that's for sure. Hushed, brittle voices... but they had to be shouts. Words became mushed with her mind beginning to play tricks on her. Her mind beginning to whistle, wave, wag and wander, move, meander, flop and flail.
Eyelids heavy, legs like honey, arms with the weight of tree trunks...
Serval faded, ever so slowly, into an inevitable darkness as her grip on the branch melted. It was only a matter of seconds before her whole body slipped into the void.
"My name is Jack O'brien."
Pupils adjusting to light, Jack began to recite all he was required to provide. His captors, whoever they were, had dragged him into what might just be the middle of nowhere. They made it very clear that they wanted something, but from where he was, he had no idea what.
"Lieutenant. Zero one zero, two nine three, eight seven four, zero one."
Jack's words had an edge to them. His Department of Defense issued identification number, plus his rank, was all that he had to say in accordance with the Geneva Convention. He hoped his facade of professionalism would hold.
The air was moist, cool on the skin. The walls stood stained with wear and what might be black mold. The all-consuming darkness was interrupted by the light under the room's sole door, along with a murky lamp mounted up on the wall. With that, he concluded he must be located in some sort of neglected storage room.
With arms bound to a metal shelf and legs too exhausted to move, saying he was in a bad position was an understatement.
"You hear this guy?"
There were two men in the room with him. One was tall, muscular, and bore a deep southern drawl. An American. Donning cheap camouflage pants and a t-shirt, he looked as though he wanted to be intimidating, but the only part of him that concerned Jack was his holster.
"Yes, yes I do." The second man spoke with crossed arms. He was lean and wore round glasses. Embedded in his voice was an accent matching near-precisely that of the Japanese sailors Jack had met back on the USS Carl Vinson. "He must be thinking of the Geneva Convention."
The southern man smirked, kneeling to meet Jack's eyes.
"You can talk normally, y'know. Geneva... ain't what it used to be."
The Japanese man chuckled, reminiscing. Jack read their words, hearing how they thought they could throw away their humanity, their morals, just because no one was going to stop them. He wanted to shout, to yell, to tell them they were wrong. They were wrong. They had to be wrong. Right?
"It's funny to think things could ever go back to normal." The one with the glasses murmured. "I pity this one."
"I don' blame him. And you, you shouldn't blame 'em, either." The man with the pistol rose back to his feet, glaring at Jack with what could've been mistaken for sympathy. "God knows how long I'd hoped to go home. And hell, Dawkins still thinks we're doing good here."
"Fuck Dawkins." The other man spat. "But we've already discussed this."
"Yeah. But our new friend here don't. Might as well humor 'em."
The Japanese man cleared his throat, gesturing behind himself with a thumb. "Dawkins is the Park idiot. Don't look at him too long or he'll try talking to you about something stupid, like the Lucky Beasts or…"
"Or constellations." The southern man finished. "He's got his head in them clouds like 'e thinks 'e matters." Turning, he smacked the door with his elbow. "Hear 'at, Dawkins? Fuck you!"
"Fuck you, Frank!" Came the reply, muffled by the door. Jack looked at the light under the door, which shifted around - that Dawkins person must be on the other side.
Embraced by a brazen smirk, the two men stifled laughs.
"Anyways, we will keep things simple." The Japanese man ran a hand through his hair, analyzing the downed pilot as if he were some sort of prize. "We need to know who you have out on the waters, and why you're here."
"Oh," The southern man, Frank, piped up. "Don't say none of 'em lies to us, either. We know when you're lying."
The Japanese one held a hand to his mouth, chest heaving and eyes narrow. Was he laughing? What's so funny?
"Yes." He started. "We know everything."
"Everything… and nothing…" Frank wrought out jazz hands, divulging into an atmosphere of mystique. "For to… what, we gotta… what is it…"
"To do that one thing, you must first create the universe." Dawkins barked, smacking the door with something metal. "Are… are you guys mocking me in there?"
"Yeah." Frank blurted, shameless.
"Fuck you guys! You're supposed to be interrogating, not entertaining." Dawkins' voice pitched - he must be getting really upset. "Really, you dipshits never get anything done! I'm going to get in there and like, uh, shoot you!"
Frank and the Japanese man burst into tears, clutching their chests and wailing out to their heart's content. Dawkins continued to threaten the two with a bullet to the brain but that didn't stop the bawling one bit.
The one with the glasses slowly but surely regained his senses, eyes tinted red from laughter. With a great big smile, he turned to Jack.
"Ah, sorry about that. You see, Dawkins is one of the researchers here. Not an ounce of… fight in him." He flexed for emphasis.
"Yup." Frank agreed, hand on his holster. "Heh, yeah. Lil' pansy."
The two pseudo-interrogators bore wild grins, and although they didn't want these good times to come to an end, they knew they would have to turn back to their captive. Jack could tell that they really didn't care about him, that they would much rather go back to bickering and laughing and having a wonderful rest of their lives - but Jack was here.
They looked on him as though he was a chore to attend to. A dirty plate, a crying baby, a task at hand. A problem. But not an enemy. That distinction in their eyes was vital, and something Jack needed to exploit.
Before Frank could get another word out, a yelp scratched at the other end of the door.
"Hey!" Dawkins cried out with urgency. "We got ourselves a situation over here!"
"...What?" The shuffling of boots drawing closer stifled Frank's reply. As the boots reached the door, it swung open with a thunderous creak.
Light swarmed Jack's eyes as he struggled to adjust to the brightness. In that period of brief blindness, a heavy thud smacked down to the floor at his side, and the guards were ushered outside with the cue of Dawkins' calls. In under five seconds, the door slammed back to a close. In under five seconds, Jack was alone.
People shouting, muffled yells, boots stomping and words thrown.
The pilot couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but he heard voices that weren't from his captors. These were different people, and they certainly were not happy with his captors.
"You did a fuck up!"
"Sloppy job..."
"Not my fault..."
Amid the verbal war, it took another moment for Jack to readjust back to the darkness. Blinking once, twice, he gazed towards the source of the thud from earlier. Something was dropped, that was for sure. But what?
To Jack's right, flopped haphazardly on the ground, was… a person?
A very yellow person, that was for sure. They wore a long, spotted yellow skirt, with spotted yellow leggings as well. Accompanied with… wait. Jack's eyes widened as soon as he found a tail. And ears. Not normal ears - those wouldn't be concerning. Not nearly as concerning as the fact that there were massive, furry ears atop her head. They looked ridiculous!
First, Jack didn't know what to think. His senses had been overloaded with the fact that he had been taken prisoner, tied down against his will. With that fear factor involved, it was difficult for him to think coherently and keep his heart rate down, keep his cool.
Second, he didn't know who his captors were. Park researchers, one of them mentioned? There was something going on outside the room, something involving other people that were not associated with his captors. That was for sure. The unknown variables, coupled with the jarring situation, made his whole head run into overdrive.
But on top of all that… someone new had entered the arena. A person who was very much, very obviously, not a person. And a person not being a person was something Jack O'brien was very much concerned about. Was he thinking straight? Was Jack going insane, had he been injected with crazy juice?
He shuddered, narrowing his pupils as the figure twitched.
Rising, slowly at first, then with sharp movements in the arms and legs, the person groggily sat upright. Jack watched with trepidation as the creature raised a hand to rub its eyes, slowly at first, then moving normally as its body adjusted to its location.
Sitting in silence, its ears twitched when a shout erupted outside. Shrinking back, the figure scooted towards Jack, arms pressing off the ground in hopes of moving faster. Did it not notice him?
"Hey…" Jack muttered, slow and steady, unsure of what to say.
The person obviously heard him, piquing its ears and releasing a sudden, yet shallow sound, almost like a cat's call. Swiveling to face Jack, she near-instantly got to scanning him from the soles of his feet to the tip of his head.
"You smell different!" She exclaimed, demonstrating a powerful, coherent ability for speech.
"I smell different?" Jack raised an eyebrow, eyes flashing between the girl's and the door, which, as a bulwark from the verbal storm, might as well be rattling on its hinges.
"Yeah." She nodded, tilting her head. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"No, not… not really." The pilot wanted to burst out laughing, but his throat was too dry to even croak. "But I genuinely don't know if you were from a secret underground bunker or not, so I can't say the same to you."
"No, I'm not really from around here, either. But this place is cool too!"
She looked up, down, and rose to her feet with a curious gaze that scrutinized the dreary lamp as if it were a puzzle.
"Wow!" The girl exclaimed, pawing at the lamp on the wall. "This thing is like a little fire, just look at it!"
"Y-yeah…" Jack's stomach started to sink as he watched her. Struggling with his bound hands, he grimaced.
"Hmm, you look stuck." She stepped over him, squinting at his binds. "How did you get stuck?"
"I'm… you're…" For a moment, his eye twitched. "Are you like, half baked or something?"
"Half baked? What's baked?" She knelt down as a thump was heard on the other end of the door. After taking a glimpse of the door to ensure she was still fairly safe, she gave Jack her full attention.
"It… it doesn't matter. Look," He arched his head towards his hands. "Can you find a way to cut me loose?"
"Cut you loose? Well, I guess I can." With a single stroke of the wrist, she slashed the binding effortlessly… with her fingernails? No… that doesn't make sense. Everything doesn't make sense. "Now, can you tell me why you got stuck in the first place?"
Jack grumbled something about how confusing everything was as he struggled to his feet. Stretching his arms and rubbing his sore wrists, he sighed.
"To be honest, I think you're asking the wrong questions here."
"Eh?" She frowned, deciding to stick a finger right at his face. "You must be an animal that doesn't like answering questions! Or… answering questions really vaguely and being all weird!"
"An animal?" Jack whispered, eyebrows furrowed. "Wait…"
"Mya! I forgot to say, I am Serval!" She stood up, back straight and bold. "And you are?"
Unsure of what to say, Jack stumbled through his words. "I, uh… you can call me Home."
"Home? That's a weird name."
"I guess it is." Jack nodded, eyes tracking the door. "And hey, I wish we could chat all day, Serval, but you and I are both stuck here and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. One second."
Jack turned to the door, unsure of how to feel.
Of course he knew he wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible, escape into the jungle, return to safety… it's this new person, someone who considered themself to be partly animal, that worried him. She didn't seem to know what lights were or even interpret that he was being held captive. On top of all that, she didn't seem to mind or even consider that she was also being held captive. He had to work with her to get her out as well, partially to question her but also to ensure that these captors have no hostages. Oblivious hostages, to boot.
"Hmm... when you put it that way, we are stuck here... But I'm sure they'll let us out if we just ask!" Serval set forth a reassuring smile, but Jack wasn't buying it.
"Stop talking." Jack stated, placing his ear against the door.
"H-hey! That… that wasn't nice of you to say…"
Grimacing again, he clenched his teeth to listen to what was going on outside.
"Fine." Someone huffed, probably the Frank person. It sounded like the overall aggression had toned down. "It's on us."
"Yes. Your failure to stay concealed cost you your own initiative." Someone else, someone new, proclaimed. Laden with a firm asian accent, Korean or Chinese, they sounded like they meant business. "If we hadn't secured this one, do you know what could have happened? No. You don't."
"Shut it! It was an honest mistake, and you were the ones who-" Dawkins was cut off by someone else, who must've had to hold him back.
"We have what we came for, and our matters are settled." The unknown newcomer stated. "We will be taking what's ours, and you can keep your shitty park."
"What ab-"
A crash pounded Jack's ears. Less of a crash, however. It sounded like a bolt cycling, a muffled bang... he recognized it instantly as a suppressed gunshot - heavier than a pistol, but certainly not a rifle he could recognize.
"The f-fuck was that for!?" Frank shrieked, only to meet another round. And another.
Three bullets expended, three shells pinging against the ground, and with an unfathomable silence, the slumps of sound against the floor must have been the guards.
As soon as the echos rattling the halls settled, the remaining men spoke to one another in a different language. After a moment of deliberation, it sounded like the group came to a conclusion. With a round of approval, the group stormed away - deeper into the structure.
"Shit." Jack backed from the door, heart racing. "Okay."
Serval tilted her head, crossing her arms in disapproval. "Did you hear that? I wonder what's going on."
"Okay. Okay. Serval!" He gestured at the girl, and then at the door. "We can talk later. Yeah? Right now, we need to get out of here. Help me find a way-"
Serval tensed her legs, then, in a stunning display of force, pummeled through the door. The hinges scattered outside as the door smashed against the opposite wall. She smirked, then looked down.
"Wha- what?!" Eyes wide, hands shaking, feet soaking up blood, Serval quaked. She felt her head melt, eyes narrow, chest flare and muscles tense - a new feeling, a new sensation, a terrible, terrible wave. "No, what? This isn't.. Hey! Home!? What's…"
"Talk later, remember?" Jack stepped out into the open. He noted Serval's abnormal strength, but the time to talk was very much not now. The door led into a white hallway, and sure enough, they had been thrown into a storage room earlier. Once he had taken in his surroundings, Jack knelt to retrieve Frank's pistol.
The captor, and all his companions, had been shot clean in the forehead and now lie across the ground. They died instantly.
Wincing, the pilot pulled out the gun. It was a sleek, yet certainly aged Glock chambered in what looked to be 9mm - he didn't give himself enough time to keep looking.
"Hey!" Serval exclaimed, caught between a panic and her instincts. "That's not yours! They're hurt, can't you… can't you see?"
Jack said nothing as he rose to his feet.
The others ran down to the right, so that must be the exit. However, they must've heard the door come down. Jack weighed his options.
"Fuck it." Waving, he stepped over the Japanese man and went down towards the right. "Let's go now, yeah?"
"Oh…" Serval struggled to take a step, frozen in place at the sight of the horror. "We do, we do need to go. Let's please leave this awful place!"
Taking no time to nod, Jack raced down the hall, Serval following close behind.
They darted past rooms, windows, notice boards reading faded updates, cracked screens, bullet holes and corridors dashed in darkened splotches of sickly red. This was old blood.
"Wǒ tīng dào yǒurén!"
An exclamation further down the hall made Jack stop in his tracks, coming to a stop beside a desecrated vending machine.
"Wǒ bùyào, ah…" Another voice replied, hurried. "Zǒu!"
Breathing deeply, hoping to calm himself, Jack waited as the voices scurried further away. They were in a rush, that was for sure, but why?
"Okay, okay." Jack ushered on Serval, who had waited behind out of what might have been fear. "Can't be much further."
The Chinese ducked to the left, down a corridor that led deeper into the facility. Staring ahead, the pilot noticed an exit sign mounted on the wall. They were headed in the right direction, but also an obvious direction.
Taking a moment to breathe, his mind calmed ever so slowly. They were rushing out of the building, but so were the other people. There's a good chance they would try to trap them at the exit, but that was only if they were actively looking for them. From Jack's perspective, they were trying to do something else, and fast - not grab them.
After all, if they really wanted to dispatch of Jack and Serval, they would've done it back in the storage room, right?
Taking another deep breath, Jack O'brien stepped out from behind the vending machine. The way to the exit would be along these signs, and from there, anything could happen.
BZZZZZZZRT!
"That was way too close!" Captain Thomas Henry manned the bridge of the ship, arms tight and face stern.
The CIWS had acquired its target and swung into position, opening fire at the incoming projectile at its own discretion. Despite the danger poised to the crew of the USS Springfield from further missile threats, they felt more than ready for anything else that might be thrown at them after their brisk brush with death.
"Come right to course, zero nine zero."
The officer on the bridge nodded, adjusting levers across his station.
"Coming right to course, zero nine zero, aye sir."
The Captain glared towards the land, not even thirty nautical miles away. They were too close for comfort. At this range, they would be easy pickings for any land based missile platform - he knew they should've been prepared for this.
The open ocean felt cramped, and Thomas only imagined where the missile could've originated from. It seemed like it came from inland, to the north, which was why he decided to change course to move slightly away from land. He needed more time to think of what to do next.
"Captain…" His Executive Officer spoke up, clacking a phone down. Someone had just hailed them from within the ship. "Get this. Sonar Sup reports POSSUB along the coastline to the north. They're narrowing down its location as we speak, but it's close, and they think that it fired those missiles at us."
This was new, and this was bad. If there was a hostile submarine in the water, it would have a field day picking them off. Why did it fire missiles, then? They had been undetected up until then, and they could easily have engaged with torpedos.
Thinking on his toes, Thomas stifled a sigh of relief. At least they knew that it was there and it wasn't a land based system that fired on them. Things could have been a lot more complicated if they knew that the island was home to enemies that not only had access to those weapons and knew how to use them, but also had been there long enough to set them up.
Now, how to deal with this submarine…
Reaching for the phone closest to him, Thomas Henry sought out his helicopter bay.
"Helo Control, this is the Captain, what's the status on our helicopter?"
"Captain, Helo Control, helo is at alert status thirty." Came the brisk response.
"Okay." He frowned, watching the island. "Get us ready for ASW, I needed a green deck and a helo in the air ten minutes ago."
"Aye, setting green deck and outfitting the Helo, Captain."
Satisfied, Thomas returned his phone and nodded at the XO. "While they investigate the submarine, I need a team ready to work towards the crash sites. Get me six soldiers… and Kaban." He continued in good humor. "I'm sure she'll be good with directions."
The second in command turned towards the Captain, who held his hand over his phone again.
"We have less than thirty minutes before that helo is in the air." Henry nodded. "Get them equipped, then I'll brief them."
"Aye." The XO affirmed, sliding into his seat. "They'll be set."
Serval was skeptical of Home. He was snappy, uppity, and just so... uptight… but he was good at telling people what to do, and he was keeping her calm when she would have loved to start screaming for dear life. There was so much wrong today, so many strange things...
They had ducked into a room layered in white. White tables, white panels, white tools, white everything! Home said that they were lost, but how was that possible? He somehow knew they were heading in the right direction earlier. Maybe his special talent had to do with finding directions, not answering questions, but that doesn't explain why they got so lost all of a sudden.
"What are you looking at?" Serval asked, curiosity drawing her closer.
Home was looking at a funny looking white pad with all sorts of black lines on it. His eyes scanned the thingy, which looked like fabric, but wasn't. Last Serval saw something like this, it was in the Library with the Owls. This was called paper, right?
"Hush." He demanded, shutting her away.
What was his deal? Why was he like this? If they were going to be friends, they couldn't keep each other at such a distance like this.
Serval stood back, looking at a board covered in paper. Strange symbols dotted each one, like the squiggly black lines, but there were so many different types it gave her a headache! The Savanna cat's head hurt a lot, and she wasn't really sure why.
It could be that strange rod that was in her leg a while ago. It could be that last night's Japari Bun was bad. Or, it could be because of what she saw earlier… the people on the ground, hurting…
She shook her head. Like Home said, she would think of it later. Right now, something exciting was happening. Wait. What was going on again? They were supposed to be escaping some scary people, but why? Did Home not want to play with them?
"Serval, come here."
Oh? Home wanted her? Did he want to keep moving, or play a game, or talk about Japari Sticks, or-
"Hold this." Home held out a bundle of papers held together by some sort of thin shell. Serval accepted the item, frowning and confused. "And this. Don't drop those, I need them."
"What are they?" Serval wondered out loud. Home was moving again, shuffling around the room as if he lost a limited edition Japari Bun.
"They're a surprise tool that will help us later." He smirked, pulling papers off the wall board. "No, they're just binders."
"Binders?"
"Yeah." He cracked a smile. "You know, stuff you use to… uh... sit on when you get tired."
"Like a chair?" The Yellow Cat's eyes widened with glee. "So you have a place to sit?"
"Uh… sure. Just don't sit on them."
Serval's felt her cheeks puff up as her ears twitched. "Wh-why not?"
"Oh," Home looked like he was having fun as he opened small doors above and below countertops… shelves, she remembered. Was he playing a game? Was he playing a game without her? "You can't sit on them because if you do, you break them."
"So… why are they for sitting?"
"Because…" Home stopped rummaging for a moment, as if he were thinking. "Because humans are weird like that."
"Humans?" Serval jumped at the mention of the word, her voice traveling far. "Humans? Are you a human?"
"What," Home looked like he was having too much fun as he waved his arms in exasperation. "You're not?"
"No, I'm not." She frowned, lowering the binders.
The strange man cleared his throat, then closed shut the last cabinet. "Okay. We have what we need. Let's keep moving, I promise we can talk later."
He promised…
Serval's mind lingered on the phrase. Promises were big. Promises meant a lot. To promise they would talk later, Ser-
Home flicked Serval's ear to snap her out her mind. He widened his eyes and urged her onwards. Eager to leave, Serval nodded.
"Come on, now!"
Deep within the USS Carl Vinson, many nautical miles out at sea, a lone officer sat, near dozing off, in the Aircraft Carrier's Electronic Warfare suite. Blinking lights, the hum of computers, and the dull, almost indiscernible roar of the ocean would be enough to lull anyone to sleep.
Before this officer's closed eyes, a notification blinked. A transmission had been intercepted and was ready for deciphering. From the Japaris and destined for the deep sea, its destination would remain a mystery while the navy got to work.
XXXXXXXXX
XXXXXMAJORXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXWEAPON ACQUIREDXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXREACTORXXXXXXXXXX40
XXXXXXXXXXXSIBERIAN TIGERXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXEMERGENCYXXX
XXXXXXXXX
XXXXX
Thank you so much for reading this far! I do apologize for the wait, and again, I hope next chapters can come soon.
Some of you asked for when the next chapter will come: I hope to update every one to two weeks at most.
I'm extremely glad that people are asking questions and all - I love smoothing things out, so at the end of each chapter I hope to circle back to some things that might be confusing, if at all.
- Remember that the 'war' begun in 2012, and since that time it became 2018. Progress on development and procurement of vehicles (and even the training of some specialized personnel) came to a standstill when society broke down, so it just isn't feasible to get the new technology produced, if it even finished research.
- A number of things have yet to be clearly defined, and intentionally, too - but keep in mind that the sensors detecting the earlier missiles received radar emissions from a radar similar to the S-300, but may not have been the S-300. More specifically, the weapon detected was an S-300PS 5N63S which appears as the symbol (10) on a receiving RWS. There are other variants and other weapons which use a similar radar, which will all appear as (10) on the RWS. Tl;DR it could be anything using that radar.
EDITS/ERRORS
- My Chinese is bad.
- ONE MILLION GRAMMAR EDITS
- ONE MILLION ENGLISH EDITS
- This chapter's editor is a grammar nazi
