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LadyoftheChicken—Thank you! On the subject of characters/names, I've been toying with the idea of including a master list/generic description of all the major characters on my profile. If I did that, would it help you guys know who's who?
January 30, 2027; 6:00
Diego Garcia, British Indian Territory
"We don't have a chance. Even if we sent in all of our militaries at once, we'd most likely be crushed."
Romano's words were harsh, cutting through the atmosphere of the meeting like a hot knife through butter. America shook his head just slightly as he watched his Navy SEALs and Romano's GIS's look among each other, trying to figure out just what their commander was talking about. They had been dragged out to a tiny island just over two thousand miles off of the coast of Africa for this mission, so it couldn't be to just tell them to give up, right?
Personally, America knew what they were going to ask them to do was suicide. But it was crucial that they get the point across about how dangerous this mission was going to be. The pressure was needed.
Indeed, as things currently were, the Allies (that was, everyone fighting against New Abyssinia) really held no chance against against the rogue state. Abyssinia's soldiers never seemed to grow tired and sometimes never even seemed to feel pain, marching forwards into battle even when hit with multiple bullets. They were like living zombies (the thought made him shiver), and the Allied forces were simply only human. Despite getting some ransomware hits in cyberspace, Italy, Estonia, and Nigeria, along with their teams, were making little other progress in the digital world, which meant that Romano didn't have the time he needed for he and his scientists to figure out the virus and find a counterattack.
However, one of the little breakthroughs the three had made had been the discovery of an influential lab deep in the jungles of Abyssinia, one that harbored information about the virus. Biometrics had prevented them from discovering much else about it, but PXT 2020's satellite imagery had provided the rest.
Romano's voice dragged him back to the present.
"At sunset, we are going to commit a raid on New Abyssinian ground," Romano continued. America smirked to himself as a shocked ripple emerged from the group, echoing across them in such a minute way that he could hardly sense it in the first place. This certainly wasn't something they had been expecting. America had been surprised, too, when he'd first heard the plan, even more so when he realized that it had been Romano who had come up with it. When push came to shove, the scrawny Italian was braver than most gave him credit for.
"Deep in the Ethiopian jungle, we've discovered a base holding data about the Vipeaira Virus," Romano continued. "To do this, you must be wondering how you will be able to defeat a soldier with superhuman abilities with such a small team. The answer is that you can't. But you are the best troops our countries have to offer, and so you'll have to do. You can only accomplish this mission if you listen to my instructions extremely carefully."
He turned with a flourish and uncapped a whiteboard pen to sketch out their plans (America had protested using electronics to hash out this mission, since if in the case that they themselves were hacked, the mission wouldn't be compromised). He exhibited a cool sort confidence that America hadn't seen since WWII, and even then it had been in short bursts.
Despite the way he acted, or perhaps even how he thought of himself, Romano could be quite the leader when he was forced to be. Everyone always said that North Italy looked and acted the most like his grandfather, but in moments like these he truly had to wonder which brother had gotten more of the Roman Empire's genes.
"From our current location," Romano drew a circle, representing Diego Garcia, and an arrow towards a line that represented the Somalian coast. "We'll be sending a submarine towards the shoreline. Commander Jones and I will lead you towards the base's location, according to the data my brother hacked and using satellite imagery as a guide." He drew two rectangles side by side, to represent the base. He then marked a circle between them. "From what we can see, it's only guarded by one super soldier around three in the morning—most of their resources have been sent to the front lines. And that is where the American's new Spider Technology will come into play."
America felt a surge of pride at the thought of his new tech. Texas and Massachusetts had been working nonstop on this new invention for almost five years now, and were anxious to try it out in combat. Tex had actually thrown a temper tantrum when he had found out that he wasn't allowed to come on its first field test. But America wasn't insane. There was no way he was putting his son in so much danger. He'd already done that by letting New Mexico stay in Benghazi to study the virus alongside Romano.
"Once we take out the guards with the yawny webs—" Now America had to hold back a snicker. Should he tell his friend that he'd named the web attacks that as a joke? "The Spider Tech will cut a specific hole in the facility that houses the virus, grab the samples needed, make sure none of the personnel inside hears us, and get out of there. This is how our mission will play out. We sneak like spiders."
"Like ninjas!" Alfred put in. Romano not-so-discreetly stomped on his foot and he let out a hiss of pain. Sheesh! No one these days could take a joke… "If you are caught, try to escape into the forest," he added, after taking a moment to shoot a dark look at the Italian. "But chances of surviving alone out there aren't very high. Close to zero, actually. But we won't have a choice if things go south, and surrender won't be an option."
"I suggest you all return to your barracks and get suited up," Romano finished. "We leave in an hour."
January 31, 2027; 2:45
New Abyssinian Wilderness
Despite the fact that it was the middle of winter and the dead of night, the Abyssinian climate was still very warm. It came from being close to equator—there was little seasonal change in the area. America was glad for that. It was only 47 degrees Fahrenheit[1] out, which was only a little chilly and prevented the weather from being an obstacle to the mission. Next to him walked Romano, nearly unrecognizable in his camouflage getup, bulletproof vest, and kevlar mask that covered his lower face.
They were stalking through the dense jungle with around twenty of the finest men that they had deemed ready for the mission. Ten were serving as snipers, set to keep a lookout around the compound, while the other ten were set to guard Romano and America as they infiltrated the lab. Everyone was connected by a radio headset. A look to either side revealed the men walking alongside him, barely visible in the darkness. No one made a sound, save the occasional snapping of a twig, and even that was few and far in between.
They'd been travelling with a single-minded focus all day—first in an inconspicuous truck they had hijacked and then on foot when there were no more roads to follow. They'd had their last break just an hour earlier, stopping for just fifteen minutes to eat dinner, and then they continued on. Estonia had provided them with enough tech to get past the coastline, the electric fence of the base, and the first two waves of guards completely unnoticed, and now they were entering the most dangerous part of the mission.
That was why America was on guard. Things never went this smoothly in a mission.
"Ten-zero, ten-twenty-three."
It had been one of their soldier's ideas to use the outdated police code that had been retired back in 2018[2]. And it was a good one, too. If their conversations were being bugged, the listener would be expecting complex military codes, not that of the American Police Force. Romano had been the one who had just spoken, commanding their men to be on guard and to stand by. America squinted ahead of them, trying to see what his ally had, and spotted several dim lights in the distance. Bingo.
"Ten-four." Came the response from the sniper captain ("Message received"), and there was a slight rustling and a whoosh as their ten snipers pulled out grappling hooks and pulled themselves into the branches of the trees. The rest of the team waited patiently as the base was scouted out. Several minutes passed, and America's hands twitched, aching to get into action.
"Ten-twenty-six," came the reply. All clear. America let out a small breath of relief, but it didn't last for long; his heart rate increased as he caught sight of the walls of the base.
"Ten-forty-nine," America announced, stepping forwards and leading the charge up behind the complex. "Between the two buildings." Proceed to the two buildings.
Above them, the snipers moved easily in the treetops, the interconnected branches of the jungle canopy providing easy access to the special forces. On the ground, America and Romano lead the way to the treeline, their men following just as silently. The gaps in between the tree trunks grew wider and wider until they stopped abruptly at a fenceline. As Italy had informed them, the base was split into two main structures, both two stories tall. In the gap in between them, he could just make out a large, muscular man in night-vision goggles marching with his back to them, on guard.
Oh, New Abyssinia, you've just made your fatal mistake. You've gotten cocky.
The snipers stood on guard as the rest of the soldiers moved out. First, two of the SEALs cut a hole in the chain-link fence, lining it with rubber to prevent the electric charge of the metal into the open air. As the super-soldier guard turned out of sight, on the other side of the building, they ducked onto the grounds. Six grappled onto the rooftops and began taking out security cameras and other alarm systems silently and systematically. America, Romano, and the other four troops rushed in between the two buildings. The ground changed quite suddenly from dirt and plants to concrete, and they changed their footsteps accordingly.
America peeked around the corner, catching sight of the back of the Abyssinian super soldier before turning again and nodding. The soldier closest to him quietly took off his heavy backpack and unzipped it, and the man next to him did the same. It took them only moments to put together the new piece of technology, and America felt a flush of pride for his states' hard work on this project.
The tech looked the most similar to its namesake, a spider. It was three feet long and boasted a leg span of five, with a flat back and no head, and had cost millions of dollars to make (thank you loyal taxpayers of America). It powered on once put together, and Alfred turned on his own half-computer, half-backpack, connecting it with the Spider Tech and pulling out what looked to be a navy blue toy pistol from its holster on his hip, loaded with only two shots.
He pressed a button on the pistol, and the mechanical spider skittered away and up the wall facing the New Abyssinian soldier. Then there was a tugging in his chest from the magnetization on his backpack, and America felt himself being pulled up onto the wall. Hitting the flat back of the spider and losing a little bit of the air in his lungs—he was going to have to fix that later—he didn't give the Abyssinian soldier a chance to react to the sound before he fired at him. A large, extremely sticky and strong blue webbing expanded out and wrapped over the man, pinning him to the ground, and fired an electrical shock strong enough to kill four full-grown men. The man stopped moving.
America let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure whether or not that'd be a high enough voltage to knock him out.
"Ten-forty-five-A," he announced, letting the rest of his comrades know of the success and asking them to stand by. "Ten-twenty-three."
America then tucked the blue pistol back into its holster and detached himself from the spider, turning off the magnet in his backpack and the ones in his hands on. He then turned around and placed his palms on the spider's back, walking vertically with the tech as a guide to the spot Nigeria had outlined in the plans for the virus' containment. Please be right…
Using its front legs, the metallic spider cut a perfect circle in the wall, and took out the piece of metal with its lower ones. Using a cable, it lowered the slab of metal to the ground to avoid making a clamor, and the four soldiers and Romano grabbed it to keep from making any more noise than possible.
"Eleven-fifty-one interior?" Romano asked once they had finished. Do you need help getting inside?
America climbed over the spider and peered inside. There was an eerie silver glow from one spot, and on the other side, several thick metallic freezers made for holding bio samples. There was no one in sight.
"Negative," he replied. He tucked in his legs and squeezed through the hole the spider had made—its diameter was only two feet and a tight fit for a large man in full op gear like him—and let himself fall to the ground.
"Eleven-ten," The Italian's voice rang through the com again, asking for a report from the rest of the team.
"Ten-four, ten-twenty-six," came the reply from the sniper's captain. All clear up here.
America took a wide, sweeping look around the room and stood up slowly from his crouched position, deciding to go for the freezers first—they'd hold the biggest chance of holding samples of Vipeaira.
"Ten-four, ten-fifty-nine." Checking security. That was from the teams on the rooftops.
He made his way to the freezer and looked over it, then cursed mentally and scowled. It was a biometric lock, and one only hackers of the highest caliber, like Nigeria or Estonia, could break in any reasonable amount of time. He frowned deeper, and opened up the electric lock, looking over the unintelligible words on the screen, most likely written in Amharic. He'd have to do it the old fashioned way: blow the lock up and hope the personnel and soldiers still inside the compound and unaware of their presence don't hear him. They'd have to get out of here fast once he got a sample.
He unstrapped his backpack, moving past the part that was magnetized with the Spider Tech and pulling out an emergency bomb. Hopefully the muffler equipped on it would work alright. It hadn't been tested enough for him to be comfortable.
There was a shattering of glass behind America, and he froze immediately, realizing that, somehow, he was not alone in the room. His hand moved slowly towards his pistol (the regular one), and once his hand curled around it, he whipped around and pointed it at the person who had seen him.
It was a young woman, looking to be in her early twenties. Her black hair was pulled back in a military-like bun, and she wore a lab coat, signifying her job as a scientist, most likely one of the ones who had mutated the virus in the first place. On the ground was a broken test tube, most likely dropped in shock. After all, who expected a US Navy SEAL to crash into your lab room in the middle of the night?
America hesitated, his finger twitching on the trigger. He needed to shoot this girl, make sure no one knew of his presence, but he hesitated. His gun had a silencer, so noise wasn't the problem, but…
This girl was innocent. He hated this part of his job.
His finger curled around the trigger of the gun, and he prepared himself to shoot the girl.
"Layla!" A foreign voice suddenly sounded, male and most likely old, and the door to the lab room burst open, revealing a grizzled old man, also in a lab coat. America nearly dropped the gun in surprise, noting the man hadn't seen him thanks to his angry gaze being set on the woman. Yet. "Mini iyadereki newi[3]?!"
America froze, eyes flickering to the hole in the wall, and slowly bent down and pressed a button on his backpack. The spider discreetly covered the opening with its own body, blending it in with the rest of the wall. He then moved backwards slowly and silently, obscuring himself in shadows and in the best position he could find for when a shootout took place.
The girl's eyes flickered on him for only the briefest of moments before she turned to the older man, most likely her boss or elder coworker.
"Yik'irita. Ijochē tenik'et'ek'et'u. Yik'irita ādirigilinyi, Inidegena āyihonimi!" The words slipped past her lips quickly, proving that she was still frightened. America wished he could understand what they were saying, and was readying himself once again to shoot, when he realized that the man hadn't turned around to face him. America dropped the gun to his side in surprise, noting the man hadn't seen him. Yet. What was this girl saying?
His hands shook so violently he almost dropped the gun. He couldn't shoot now. Some part of him knew, just knew, that this girl was defending him.
"Alfred? Eleven-ten!" He realized quite abruptly that Romano was talking to him on the com. Report! He turned off his headset.
"Ya minimi negeri minimi āyit'ek'imimi." The man's eyes moved down to the shards of glass at the girl's feet. He seemed angry.
"Bech'irashi. Ahuni it'ebi neberi. Samunawi yemīyanisherateti āderegewi," the girl responded. "Inē āts'idawalehu."
"Irisiwo yishalu," the man commanded, giving a sharp scowl.. "Ye'inya mebirati wede wisit'i ina wede wich'ī iyegeba newi, silezīhi lememerimeri ānidi budini melaki newi. Le'āmets'enyochi hulu tet'enik'ek'u."
"Awoni gētayī." The man nodded at the girl, and she saluted. He exited the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.
For a moment, both of them were frozen, staring at each other. Shock emanated from both sides, mixed with fear and a sort of sudden comradeship on the girl's side for having aided him. Then the moment was over, and the girl rushed towards him and pulled him upwards and to his feet.
"Who are you?" America breathed. The girl blinked, then shook her head.
"Ich spreche kein Englisch. Kannst du Deutsch sprechen?" The sudden switch of languages startled him, and it took him a moment to understand that she was speaking German. How exactly, he shoved to the back of his mind.
"Ja, ich kann," he finally replied.
"Gut. Du bist bei den Amerikanern und den Italienern, oder? Ich habe so viel über den Krieg gehört." She turned to the freezer and turned on the lock, typing rapidly into it. The freezer opened with a hiss, and she grabbed America's sleeve, practically dragging him inside what seemed like an ice-cold walk-in closet, lined with shelves. She turned to him and grinned shakily. "Was brauchst du?"
If there had been one thing America had been expecting, it wasn't this. "Was? Wer bist du? Warum tust du das?"
"Nicht alle von uns Äthiopiern unterstützen das neue Regime." Ethiopians. She had called herself an Ethiopian, not an Abyssinian. That comforted him. The girl's smile fell into a frown as she watched him carefully. "Sehen Sie, mein Captain ist gerade dabei, zehn Soldaten auszusenden, um den Sicherheitsschaden zu untersuchen. Sie müssen mir jetzt sagen, was Sie brauchen."
Ten super soldiers? America's breath caught in his throat. His team wasn't going to stand a chance if they didn't leave right now.
"Ihre besten Proben des Virus. Der mutierte," he replied. Finally, his fear and shock began shifting into excitement as his adrenaline began kicking in. The girl nodded and pulled out a rack full of green-looking test tubes.
"Treffen Sie Ihre Wahl."
"Danke." He turned around and grabbed a small container from his backpack, specially designed to hold the virus and keep it cold for a period of time. He picked out three test tubes at random and placed them carefully inside his pack, putting it back on again.
"Du musst gehen," the girl commanded, shutting the door behind them as they exited the freezer. Her hands were shaking, he noticed. She was taking a huge risk for him.
"Wie lautet dein Name?" The words left his lips before he could stop them. "Ich bin Alfred Jones."
The girl smiled for a fraction of a second, then frowned again. "Layla Bekele. Jetzt geh!" She shooed him almost frantically.
America nodded. "Danke," he repeated simply, pressing a button and uncovering his entry point again. The young nation then turned around and climbed out, magnetizing his hands again and using the Spider gear to slide to the ground.
"Alfred!" The words were whispered, but he heard them. America turned to see Romano, about to blow a fuse, glaring at him. With a start of embarrassment, he hurriedly recalled his powered-down headset and turned it back on.
"Eleven-sixty," He reported. There is going to be an attack here. He could feel everyone freeze. "We need to get out of here. Now." Not even bothering to code the last sentence, he raced off into the forest, the rest of his men on his heels.
And though he was running far away from the compound, part of Alfred's mind was staying back in that lab room, trying to figure out just why this Layla Bekele had saved his and his men's lives.
[1]- Around eight degrees Celsius
[2]- Actually, I couldn't find any actual military codes (and I doubt I could if I tried) so I just stole the ones that the police use.
[3]- First, the words in actual Amharic writing (I put the translation in Latin script so the reader can better picture what the characters are saying) according to Google Translate:
"ምን እያደረክ ነው?!"
"ይቅርታ. እጆቼ ተንቀጠቀጡ. ይቅርታ አድርግልኝ, እንደገና አይሆንም!"
"ያ ምንም ነገር ምንም አይጠቅምም."
"በጭራሽ. አሁን እጠብ ነበር. ሳሙናው የሚያንሸራተት አደረገው. እኔ አጽዳዋለሁ"
"እርስዎ ይሻሉ. የእኛ መብራት ወደ ውስጥ እና ወደ ውጪ እየገባ ነው, ስለዚህ ለመመርመር አንድ ቡድን መላክ ነው. ለአመጸኞች ሁሉ ተጠንቀቁ."
"አዎን ጌታዪ."
And in English:
"Layla! What are you doing?!"
"I'm sorry. My hands slipped. Forgive me, it won't happen again!"
"That better not have been holding anything important."
"Of course not. I had just washed it. The soap made it slippery. I'll clean it up."
"You better. Our electricity is going in and out, so we're sending a team outside to investigate. Be on guard for any rebels."
"Yes sir."
[4]- German translations (Also Google translate, excepting 'thank you'):
"I don't speak English. Can you speak German?"
"Yes, I can."
"Good. You're with the Americans and the Italians, aren't you? I've heard so much about the war. What do you need?"
"What? Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
"Not all of us Ethiopians support the new regime. Look, my captain is about to send out ten soldiers to inspect the damage to security. You need to tell me what you need right now."
"Your best samples of the virus. The mutated one."
"Take your pick."
"Thank you."
"You need to leave."
"What is your name? I'm Alfred Jones."
"Layla Bekele. Now go!"
