Rogue Operator
Disclaimer: I do not own the Kingdom Hearts franchise. The world of our rogue agent, Conrad Hart, is of my creation. Times are on the 24 hour time scale (meaning 0200 means two o'clock in the morning and 2000 means eight o'clock at night).
~ ~ ~ ~
18 September, 2011. (0200 hrs): The cool of early fall seeps through; despite the jacket I wear. Just across the street is my quarry. I've been ordered to terminate the life of a fellow who is guilty of one of the great crimes of our world. He is involved in the massive kidnapping racket supplying victims to Maleficent to turn into Heartless.
The man in the car, scoping the lower income neighborhood across the street from me, doesn't know I'm there. But I am closer to him now than any other being on this planet. My Observation Post has been set here for six days, and I've patiently observed his every coming and going from the abandoned building.
Slowly, and with practiced ease and efficiency I assemble the silenced SVD Dragunov sniper rifle from the padded brief case I had it carried in. I could have chosen the bolt action SVT-90, another silenced sniper rifle, more accurate than the Dragunov. But I chose to go with the SVD because if I've gotta shoot my way out, the Dragunov is my best bet. It has a faster firing rate because it's a semi-auto, meaning I don't need to cycle a bolt to fire a second shot.
"This is Talon One. Target acquired." I say, silently into my throat mike. The earpiece in my ear enables me to hear commands as they come.
"This is Echo One." Command element, "Commence Order T-104."
I line my crosshairs on the forehead of my target. He's an old, bearded fellow with snow white hair and beard. He betrayed our unit several weeks ago, caused the deaths of two operatives in the Traverse Town sector, the betrayal of three in the Atlantica sector, and a lot more damage. Now he's under the protection of the kidnapping racket that's become so big around here. I'm about to repair that damage.
I feel no hatred. No anger. Despite his loathsome acts, and kindly, grandfatherly appearance, this man is a target, nothing more. I'm smart enough to game-plan a mission I'm assigned, but I'm enough of a line- soldier not to ask too many questions. I align the crosshairs again, and slowly apply pressure on the trigger. My breathing comes slow and controlled and I am surprised by the rifle's bucking and recoil. The only sound echoing through the night is a thump barely louder than a child's BB gun. I see the traitorous ex-agent fall dead into ground, blood mixing with the asphalt.
"This is Talon One to Talon Two, kill complete. Commence T-104."
"Roger Talon One this is Two. Commencing T-104 and extracting you."
Ah, thanks a bunch Falstaff. I've known the hulking menace with the sizeable paunch named Jack Falstaff since we'd done Selection for the Gamma Unit. This is a military intelligence/counter-terrorism team that recruits from all over the military. Our main mission has been against the Heartless.
Covering our sixes are two other boys with SVD sniper rifles. Mario and Shades, two guys from my old unit, have their scopes focused to our rear as we bundle the traitor's body, removing all traces of him having been anywhere in the area, and drive off to the river where we'll dispose of it in short order.
Why are we carrying ratty Soviet made weapons when we've got a whole arsenal of the best American and European made weapons? Easy. Deniability. The SVD and SVT-90 rifles have become quite popular with higher end hitmen in this area. We could easily make up the cover story that our traitor was shot by a hired gun and not the subject of a T-104.
~ ~ ~ ~
September 18, 2011. (2000): You may think us as crueler than the Heartless. Not in the least. These little covert ops that the Unit, as we Gamma operators like to refer to our unit as, are for the good of our people. Too many have disappeared, with little or no evidence of their passing, and very likely wound up in the clutches of Maleficent, to become Heartless.
We're not like any ordinary military unit you see. We tend to refer to each other by first names, or nicknames, rather than by rank. We also tend to have longish hair, sideburns, and facial hair. A lot of missions, like this one, require us to pose as civilians and it's a hell of a lot easier to do that if you don't have a standard issue military haircut.
We officially don't even exist, see. If some enemy warlord, drug mogul, or some other sort of character needs to die and coincidentally does we don't tell. We just melt back into the shadows from whence we came.
You've come a long way, lieutenant. From someone who once listened to the maxim, "The Navy diver is not a fighting man, he is a salvage expert. If it's lost underwater, he finds it. If it's sunk he brings it back up. If it's in the way he moves it. If he is lucky he will die young two hundred feet beneath the waves because that is the closest he will ever come to being a hero!" to someone who now takes the war to the Heartless under the cover of secrecy and darkness. Thank you Master Chief Sunday. Yep, that's right, I was a Navy diver before I joined Gamma, two years ago when I got promoted to Lieutenant j.g.
"Hey, Hart!"
"Yeah, what's up Shades?" I ask.
"You coming out with us tonight?" Shades asks, wearing his ever present Ray Ban sunglasses.
"Yeah, we're meeting in Norfolk, right?" I ask.
"Sure, whatever, Navy." Shades adds, "See if you squids can't match drinks with us Army guys."
Shades is our nickname for Staff Sergeant Mick Sanders, US Army. To the rank conscious military, we're a bunch of 'undisciplined cowboys', but we pay the price for our greater independence from the average military unit by being the warrior elite, at the President's beck and call.
We convoyed out to Norfolk, where we're spending our night before our infiltration exercise at the Norfolk Navy Base. This is one of those ops where we test security of the base in question the old fashion way. By breaking and entry.
So that's why the lot of us are sitting in a bar at the waterfront in Norfolk, making some long distance observations and draining us a few beers while we're at it. In all there are about a dozen operators clustered around the table, hoisting up a few drinks. I'm team leader for this op, and when we get to our hotel room at 0 dark thirty (really early in the morning for you civvies), we'll plan how we're gonna break and enter Norfolk Navy base and hit any number of strategic targets. Good old Falstaff got us a ground floor plan earlier last week for the sneak and peek mission we're pulling off.
I'm on my third or fourth beer, getting that nice buzz going when I see a very familiar figure walking into the nice little pub section, away from the bar where the dozen Gammas are bellying it up. She's in her summer white uniform, a Navy lieutenant (j.g.), like me. Her short brown hair is neatly combed out of her face, the low light level in the pub making her rich brown eyes seem almost luminous. She flashes me with a familiar smile and I've got the distinct warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach and I'm sure it ain't the booze.
"Hey Conrad." Falstaff says, "Conrad? You up for another round?"
"Huh, just a minute Rich." I reply.
"Are you O.K. man, you look kinda distracted." Falstaff asks.
"I'm good to go, Falstaff." I reply.
Falstaff follows my line of sight and fixes me with a grin saying, "Definitely she's cute, but she's a lady in uniform."
"I know that, Falstaff, I've got eyes. I also know her." I reply, "We were classmates at the Academy."
"Still, a woman in uniform? Bad juju dude, bad juju." Falstaff replies.
"Hey, Conrad, you up for another round!" Shorty pipes in. He's a skinny little guy with a mustache, one of our two Marines in the unit. The kid may be 5'2" but he's got the heart of a man three times his size. On runs with full rucksacks all we see though from behind is the pack and a pair of little legs pumping like pistons.
"Yep, go and order this one on Falstaff's tab." I reply.
"You bastard." Falstaff remarks, with a mock severe expression.
"I'll see you guys in a bit." I reply, "I've got to say hello to an old friend."
"Good luck." Falstaff says, "And if she doesn't want your officer ass, be sure to send her to a petty officer who knows how to find a good time."
"And doesn't have a standard issue beer gut." I reply back. This gets me some laughs from some of the boys listening in. They proceed to rib Falstaff over his visible gut as I walk towards the pub section, away from the bar where the twelve of us are bottling things up.
As I approach Diane's table, she smiles again and waves at me. I return both gestures and take the seat across from her. "Long time, no see Conrad."
"I know, I've been busy." I reply.
"I take it I can't ask what you've been up to?" Diane replies.
"It's classified." I continue.
"You know, I've been meaning to ask why you gave up diving? I mean it seemed like you loved working under the sea." Diane asks.
The way she looks at me with those eyes of hers, so rich and deep, they're like a doe's eyes, and I suddenly feel the urge to tell her how I've felt about her for most of the nine years we've known each other. But I hold back, because I know she's already got a boyfriend.
"As much as I loved diving, I felt I had to do something to prevent the things I'd seen when salvaging lost gummi ships over the ocean." I replied, referring to a dive I did whereupon I found the remains of the fifteen people aboard a civilian Gummi ship that the Heartless had brought down.
In reality I left diving because of Diane. I was stationed with her on the USS Sea Hawk for months, in charge of the eight divers assigned to her. When her boyfriend got transferred aboard as well it was more than I could take. I left to run Selection for the Gamma Unit as soon as I could.
"You seemed to be troubled when we recovered that sunken Gummi ship three years ago." Diane replies, "I mean you barely slept, you didn't talk to anyone. What happened down there?"
"I saw, firsthand, the cruelty of the sea." I reply, "When I went through the hole in the side of the ship, a hole twice as wide and tall as a man, I saw little scraps of flesh floating as a bunch of tiny fish were feeding on them. I saw the body of the engineer, trapped under a fallen support beam. Her eyes were wide open with terror, she was definitely alive when they'd hit water and drowned in that position. It was a ghost ship. I'm sorry, you don't need me ruining your night with my problems."
"No, Conrad, don't be. This hurt you a lot and you need to get it off your chest." Diane replies, once again proving it wasn't her looks that drew me in. It was her kind, caring personality.
"Looks like Chris is here, I'd best get going." I reply, with a weak attempt at humor, "Before he thinks you're cheating."
"Very funny." Diane says, with a smile. I see Mr. Perfect walking into the bar straight away. He's a SWO (Surface Warfare Officer), wearing his whites like Diane, taller than both of us, with brown hair. Every inch the pretty boy, the sort of guy I absolutely hate with a passion. I tolerate this pretty boy because Diane adores him and I want her to be happy.
I leave, with a grunt of hello to Mr. Wonderful instead of gut punching him like I want to. I make a mental note to pay the USS Sea Hawk a visit when we infiltrate tomorrow. I planned that anyway, because I wanted to give Diane a gift, and I also feel like giving Mr. Wonderful a big surprise.
"Shot down, eh boss?" Shorty remarks as I get back to the bar.
"Yeah, pass me a cold one, will ya." I reply.
"Will do, boss." Shorty replies, giving me a Heineken and a wink.
~ ~ ~ ~
September 19, 2011(1200): Ah, the smell of salty sea air. The fresh sea breeze blows over lightly, making waves in my enlisted man's utility coat. The twelve of us are gonna fan out over the base and make a big stink, not a little commotion. I have to smile as I see the USS Sea Hawk. Not only is she an aircraft carrier, and thereby a big target, I've got a few personal things to attend to below her decks.
This might be tricky because a few people on the Sea Hawk know who I am, but I'm confident in my ability to disguise and bullshit. Besides I look like an enlisted man wearing dungarees and a utility coat, the blue uniform you see sailor's wearing and a darker blue jacket. Basically any khakis (officers) aren't gonna pay much attention to Petty Officer Schmuck walking down the p-way. I also have a very genuine looking toupee and false mustache to complete the disguise.
I enter the quarterdeck, salute the deck officer, saying, "Request permission to come aboard, sir."
"Come aboard." The deck officer says. That was easy enough. The petty officers on guard duty outside the ship barely glanced at my ID card, I'd give them and this deck officer an F in readiness. They didn't even check to see that it was real. The sentries were busy chatting about something or other when I presented my ID.
Looking around the ship, I'm trying to orient myself when I see Diane. "Excuse me, Petty Officer, can I help you?"
"No ma'am, I'm just fine." I reply.
My disguise must be good, she didn't even recognize me. I'm not ten yards down the passageway when I here, "Have we met before?"
"I don't believe so ma'am." I reply. Shit. Stay calm, maybe she won't recognize me.
Diane's eyebrows knit together and she does this sort of pouty thing with her lips as she regards me. I'm definitely giving her a B for readiness on this one. And it's not because I like her, either. It's because she's scrutinizing the unfamiliar sailor on the ship. She doesn't suspect what I'm up to, or who I am.
"Are you new here?" Diane asks.
"Yes ma'am." I quickly respond, "Just got transferred into engineering last night."
"Just a quick note, Petty Officer, there's an anti-terrorism exercise going on. It's base wide, and we're on full alert. Be sure to be extra vigilant on sentry duty." Diane replies.
"Yes ma'am. I'll keep that in mind. By your leave." I reply and we go our separate ways. Definitely she's more aware of this exercise than the average person on base is.
Shades and Mario already infiltrated an hour ago with a work crew, and my next goal is to check the engineering space out where they'd put IEDs (Improvised Explosive Device). They're training models of course that just pop and spin and throw smoke into the room, but they're enough prove to the commanding officer of the Sea Hawk how vulnerable in port his city at sea really is.
We're done, we've stolen quite a few important documents and files, set the IEDs, and I've done my personal errands. Opportunity only knocks once, Hart, remember that. And I do, when I see last night's pretty boy, Lieutenant j.g. Chris Osmond walking down the p-way.
We're in an isolated spot aboard the boat, so we've got a big surprise planned. As soon as we greet him with an unenthusiastic, "Good morning sir," Mario throws a tarp over his head, Shades punches him in the stomach, and I administer the coup de grace by putting him in a sleeper hold. We bind and gag him with duct tape and put a sticker on his chest that reads Dead Hostage for this exercise.
We leave the ship, but not before I see Diane cradling a red rose in her left hand, carrying a cup of coffee in the other. She's clearly happy about my surprise for her and I grin broadly as we leave the ship. I hope Chris likes that IED I put in his locker and the tape recording that says, 'Smile, you're dead, ha ha ha.'
~ ~ ~ ~
20 September 2011: Sitting in my hotel room I sit reading the paper. I'm entirely in shock as I look at the headline. NAVY LIEUTENANT MISSING. The picture of the lieutenant in question is Diane Schonke, the woman I love. There, Hart, it wasn't easy to admit it to yourself, now was it.
What will I do now? I have responsibilities for my unit. However I haven't been able to sleep since yesterday when I heard the news. I can't just wait idly for news of Diane, because I've got that sinking feeling that the reasons she's missing is directly connected to those kidnappings I mentioned earlier. I don't know how I know, but I know for sure, she is in the hands of what Intelligence calls the Heartless Pipeline.
What this means is that the victim(s) kidnapped are taken from whatever world they hail from, and within forty-eight hours they are transported off world, usually to Traverse Town, the crossroads of the worlds and a hotbed of cloak and dagger intrigue. I received the news of Diane's abduction yesterday, so that means if I hurry I can find her here. I know what I have to do now, and I silently tiptoe from the room to set out on my journey.
I know not how long it will take. I only know that Diane's life is at stake and that I am willing and able to endure any hardship and that the journey will be one fraught with peril. I know when I walk out that door I shall become a rogue operator. I will be seen as a traitor and thus be stalked by not only whatever foes I face on the journey but also members of my own unit.
I throw on my well used brown leather jacket, underneath it I wear my 9mm Smith and Wesson handgun and five double stacked magazines each carrying fourteen rounds of ammunition. My first stop is the USS Sea Hawk.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Conrad Hart, I'd never expected you to show up around here."
"Chris Osmond, pleased to meet you." I reply sarcastically.
"Watch your tongue. Consider yourself lucky that what you did to me was part of the exercise. Though I wonder what was with that stupid little prank...." Chris begins.
"You shut your trap." I reply harshly, "Don't you even care Diane's missing? Anyway, if you want the truth, YES I did it to spite you. Do I care about that now? No. What matters is Diane."
"I should have you arrested. I'm taking it this investigation isn't condoned by...." Chris begins.
"Damn you to hell!" I reply and land a blow with my fist onto his face, "How far would you go for the woman you supposedly love? And what have you done, nothing?"
"I have duties here!" Chris says, emphatically, "I can't...."
"You WON'T!" I snap back.
"Do anything about that. Yes," Chris replies, breaking down in tears, "I love Diane, but I can't...."
"...No, you won't do anything." I reply. I'm unmoved. If he really loved her, he'd follow my route, forsaking all for the woman he loves.
"Now," I continue, "Mr. Crybaby Prettyboy, I believe this is her stateroom, and there is something I need to collect."
"What could that be?" Chris asks.
I quickly eye a half written letter on her desk, the object of my quest. Diane and I always have kept in touch since we went our separate ways. "Hey, that's evidence...." Chris protests.
"Hey, go fuck yourself. You, nor the Navy Criminal Investigative Service, are gonna find anything by searching around like a bunch of blind apes." I reply, as I leave the ship, abruptly. He does nothing to stop me, which is just as well, for nothing shall stand in the way of my quest. My next stop, Traverse Town.
~ ~ ~ ~
Traverse Town: "Fools!" Maleficent shouted, berating a group of men standing somewhere in the Third District.
"We got the numbers that you needed, exactly." One of the masked men replied.
"Yeah, and victims aren't as easy to come by now!" Another interjected.
"Yes, I need people to experiment on to create more and powerful Heartless, but you could have been more discreet." Maleficent replied, holding up a newspaper with the headline. NAVY LIEUTENANT MISSING.
"It happens all the time on that world. Someone will go missing, and for a few weeks they'll be in an uproar trying to find him or her and then it winds up in a cold case file somewhere." One hooded figure interjected.
"Perhaps." Maleficent said, "Alert all our agents and tell them to be especially careful. For all we know someone could be searching for her."
"Truly, but can one man stand against us?" Another of the conspirators began.
"Do not underestimate the power of the heart. It can drive one to greater lengths than one dare realize." Maleficent replied.
"Do you think she could be a key?" Ansem asked, he appeared behind the group.
Not even turning to acknowledge, Maleficent said, "She could be. But if her heart be not pure, you can have her and transform her into another of your many creations."
"Truly." Ansem replied, "And she is one so fair and lovely, with a heart so pure. It is a true pity to transform such a beautiful creature into a Heartless."
"If it serves our purposes well, it's worth the price. Besides, a bit of darkness will collapse even the most stalwart of hearts." Maleficent replied.
From the confines of the trunk where she lay, tied up and gagged, Diane let a single tear flow down her cheek. She knew not that a man who loved her more than anything was now in search of her. The ropes binding her hands behind her cut into the skin, bruising it when she tried to struggle. The one around her ankles were equally biting. And as she heard the two people, one of them a woman, discussing her fate and those of other hostages, she knew her situation was dire.
~ ~ ~ ~
Will Conrad find his beloved in time? What will he uncover in Traverse Town? Next chapter, Arriving in Traverse Town. Please R&R.
AN: I'm guessing Ansem created some of the other types of Heartless as well as the Shadows through his experiments.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Kingdom Hearts franchise. The world of our rogue agent, Conrad Hart, is of my creation. Times are on the 24 hour time scale (meaning 0200 means two o'clock in the morning and 2000 means eight o'clock at night).
~ ~ ~ ~
18 September, 2011. (0200 hrs): The cool of early fall seeps through; despite the jacket I wear. Just across the street is my quarry. I've been ordered to terminate the life of a fellow who is guilty of one of the great crimes of our world. He is involved in the massive kidnapping racket supplying victims to Maleficent to turn into Heartless.
The man in the car, scoping the lower income neighborhood across the street from me, doesn't know I'm there. But I am closer to him now than any other being on this planet. My Observation Post has been set here for six days, and I've patiently observed his every coming and going from the abandoned building.
Slowly, and with practiced ease and efficiency I assemble the silenced SVD Dragunov sniper rifle from the padded brief case I had it carried in. I could have chosen the bolt action SVT-90, another silenced sniper rifle, more accurate than the Dragunov. But I chose to go with the SVD because if I've gotta shoot my way out, the Dragunov is my best bet. It has a faster firing rate because it's a semi-auto, meaning I don't need to cycle a bolt to fire a second shot.
"This is Talon One. Target acquired." I say, silently into my throat mike. The earpiece in my ear enables me to hear commands as they come.
"This is Echo One." Command element, "Commence Order T-104."
I line my crosshairs on the forehead of my target. He's an old, bearded fellow with snow white hair and beard. He betrayed our unit several weeks ago, caused the deaths of two operatives in the Traverse Town sector, the betrayal of three in the Atlantica sector, and a lot more damage. Now he's under the protection of the kidnapping racket that's become so big around here. I'm about to repair that damage.
I feel no hatred. No anger. Despite his loathsome acts, and kindly, grandfatherly appearance, this man is a target, nothing more. I'm smart enough to game-plan a mission I'm assigned, but I'm enough of a line- soldier not to ask too many questions. I align the crosshairs again, and slowly apply pressure on the trigger. My breathing comes slow and controlled and I am surprised by the rifle's bucking and recoil. The only sound echoing through the night is a thump barely louder than a child's BB gun. I see the traitorous ex-agent fall dead into ground, blood mixing with the asphalt.
"This is Talon One to Talon Two, kill complete. Commence T-104."
"Roger Talon One this is Two. Commencing T-104 and extracting you."
Ah, thanks a bunch Falstaff. I've known the hulking menace with the sizeable paunch named Jack Falstaff since we'd done Selection for the Gamma Unit. This is a military intelligence/counter-terrorism team that recruits from all over the military. Our main mission has been against the Heartless.
Covering our sixes are two other boys with SVD sniper rifles. Mario and Shades, two guys from my old unit, have their scopes focused to our rear as we bundle the traitor's body, removing all traces of him having been anywhere in the area, and drive off to the river where we'll dispose of it in short order.
Why are we carrying ratty Soviet made weapons when we've got a whole arsenal of the best American and European made weapons? Easy. Deniability. The SVD and SVT-90 rifles have become quite popular with higher end hitmen in this area. We could easily make up the cover story that our traitor was shot by a hired gun and not the subject of a T-104.
~ ~ ~ ~
September 18, 2011. (2000): You may think us as crueler than the Heartless. Not in the least. These little covert ops that the Unit, as we Gamma operators like to refer to our unit as, are for the good of our people. Too many have disappeared, with little or no evidence of their passing, and very likely wound up in the clutches of Maleficent, to become Heartless.
We're not like any ordinary military unit you see. We tend to refer to each other by first names, or nicknames, rather than by rank. We also tend to have longish hair, sideburns, and facial hair. A lot of missions, like this one, require us to pose as civilians and it's a hell of a lot easier to do that if you don't have a standard issue military haircut.
We officially don't even exist, see. If some enemy warlord, drug mogul, or some other sort of character needs to die and coincidentally does we don't tell. We just melt back into the shadows from whence we came.
You've come a long way, lieutenant. From someone who once listened to the maxim, "The Navy diver is not a fighting man, he is a salvage expert. If it's lost underwater, he finds it. If it's sunk he brings it back up. If it's in the way he moves it. If he is lucky he will die young two hundred feet beneath the waves because that is the closest he will ever come to being a hero!" to someone who now takes the war to the Heartless under the cover of secrecy and darkness. Thank you Master Chief Sunday. Yep, that's right, I was a Navy diver before I joined Gamma, two years ago when I got promoted to Lieutenant j.g.
"Hey, Hart!"
"Yeah, what's up Shades?" I ask.
"You coming out with us tonight?" Shades asks, wearing his ever present Ray Ban sunglasses.
"Yeah, we're meeting in Norfolk, right?" I ask.
"Sure, whatever, Navy." Shades adds, "See if you squids can't match drinks with us Army guys."
Shades is our nickname for Staff Sergeant Mick Sanders, US Army. To the rank conscious military, we're a bunch of 'undisciplined cowboys', but we pay the price for our greater independence from the average military unit by being the warrior elite, at the President's beck and call.
We convoyed out to Norfolk, where we're spending our night before our infiltration exercise at the Norfolk Navy Base. This is one of those ops where we test security of the base in question the old fashion way. By breaking and entry.
So that's why the lot of us are sitting in a bar at the waterfront in Norfolk, making some long distance observations and draining us a few beers while we're at it. In all there are about a dozen operators clustered around the table, hoisting up a few drinks. I'm team leader for this op, and when we get to our hotel room at 0 dark thirty (really early in the morning for you civvies), we'll plan how we're gonna break and enter Norfolk Navy base and hit any number of strategic targets. Good old Falstaff got us a ground floor plan earlier last week for the sneak and peek mission we're pulling off.
I'm on my third or fourth beer, getting that nice buzz going when I see a very familiar figure walking into the nice little pub section, away from the bar where the dozen Gammas are bellying it up. She's in her summer white uniform, a Navy lieutenant (j.g.), like me. Her short brown hair is neatly combed out of her face, the low light level in the pub making her rich brown eyes seem almost luminous. She flashes me with a familiar smile and I've got the distinct warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach and I'm sure it ain't the booze.
"Hey Conrad." Falstaff says, "Conrad? You up for another round?"
"Huh, just a minute Rich." I reply.
"Are you O.K. man, you look kinda distracted." Falstaff asks.
"I'm good to go, Falstaff." I reply.
Falstaff follows my line of sight and fixes me with a grin saying, "Definitely she's cute, but she's a lady in uniform."
"I know that, Falstaff, I've got eyes. I also know her." I reply, "We were classmates at the Academy."
"Still, a woman in uniform? Bad juju dude, bad juju." Falstaff replies.
"Hey, Conrad, you up for another round!" Shorty pipes in. He's a skinny little guy with a mustache, one of our two Marines in the unit. The kid may be 5'2" but he's got the heart of a man three times his size. On runs with full rucksacks all we see though from behind is the pack and a pair of little legs pumping like pistons.
"Yep, go and order this one on Falstaff's tab." I reply.
"You bastard." Falstaff remarks, with a mock severe expression.
"I'll see you guys in a bit." I reply, "I've got to say hello to an old friend."
"Good luck." Falstaff says, "And if she doesn't want your officer ass, be sure to send her to a petty officer who knows how to find a good time."
"And doesn't have a standard issue beer gut." I reply back. This gets me some laughs from some of the boys listening in. They proceed to rib Falstaff over his visible gut as I walk towards the pub section, away from the bar where the twelve of us are bottling things up.
As I approach Diane's table, she smiles again and waves at me. I return both gestures and take the seat across from her. "Long time, no see Conrad."
"I know, I've been busy." I reply.
"I take it I can't ask what you've been up to?" Diane replies.
"It's classified." I continue.
"You know, I've been meaning to ask why you gave up diving? I mean it seemed like you loved working under the sea." Diane asks.
The way she looks at me with those eyes of hers, so rich and deep, they're like a doe's eyes, and I suddenly feel the urge to tell her how I've felt about her for most of the nine years we've known each other. But I hold back, because I know she's already got a boyfriend.
"As much as I loved diving, I felt I had to do something to prevent the things I'd seen when salvaging lost gummi ships over the ocean." I replied, referring to a dive I did whereupon I found the remains of the fifteen people aboard a civilian Gummi ship that the Heartless had brought down.
In reality I left diving because of Diane. I was stationed with her on the USS Sea Hawk for months, in charge of the eight divers assigned to her. When her boyfriend got transferred aboard as well it was more than I could take. I left to run Selection for the Gamma Unit as soon as I could.
"You seemed to be troubled when we recovered that sunken Gummi ship three years ago." Diane replies, "I mean you barely slept, you didn't talk to anyone. What happened down there?"
"I saw, firsthand, the cruelty of the sea." I reply, "When I went through the hole in the side of the ship, a hole twice as wide and tall as a man, I saw little scraps of flesh floating as a bunch of tiny fish were feeding on them. I saw the body of the engineer, trapped under a fallen support beam. Her eyes were wide open with terror, she was definitely alive when they'd hit water and drowned in that position. It was a ghost ship. I'm sorry, you don't need me ruining your night with my problems."
"No, Conrad, don't be. This hurt you a lot and you need to get it off your chest." Diane replies, once again proving it wasn't her looks that drew me in. It was her kind, caring personality.
"Looks like Chris is here, I'd best get going." I reply, with a weak attempt at humor, "Before he thinks you're cheating."
"Very funny." Diane says, with a smile. I see Mr. Perfect walking into the bar straight away. He's a SWO (Surface Warfare Officer), wearing his whites like Diane, taller than both of us, with brown hair. Every inch the pretty boy, the sort of guy I absolutely hate with a passion. I tolerate this pretty boy because Diane adores him and I want her to be happy.
I leave, with a grunt of hello to Mr. Wonderful instead of gut punching him like I want to. I make a mental note to pay the USS Sea Hawk a visit when we infiltrate tomorrow. I planned that anyway, because I wanted to give Diane a gift, and I also feel like giving Mr. Wonderful a big surprise.
"Shot down, eh boss?" Shorty remarks as I get back to the bar.
"Yeah, pass me a cold one, will ya." I reply.
"Will do, boss." Shorty replies, giving me a Heineken and a wink.
~ ~ ~ ~
September 19, 2011(1200): Ah, the smell of salty sea air. The fresh sea breeze blows over lightly, making waves in my enlisted man's utility coat. The twelve of us are gonna fan out over the base and make a big stink, not a little commotion. I have to smile as I see the USS Sea Hawk. Not only is she an aircraft carrier, and thereby a big target, I've got a few personal things to attend to below her decks.
This might be tricky because a few people on the Sea Hawk know who I am, but I'm confident in my ability to disguise and bullshit. Besides I look like an enlisted man wearing dungarees and a utility coat, the blue uniform you see sailor's wearing and a darker blue jacket. Basically any khakis (officers) aren't gonna pay much attention to Petty Officer Schmuck walking down the p-way. I also have a very genuine looking toupee and false mustache to complete the disguise.
I enter the quarterdeck, salute the deck officer, saying, "Request permission to come aboard, sir."
"Come aboard." The deck officer says. That was easy enough. The petty officers on guard duty outside the ship barely glanced at my ID card, I'd give them and this deck officer an F in readiness. They didn't even check to see that it was real. The sentries were busy chatting about something or other when I presented my ID.
Looking around the ship, I'm trying to orient myself when I see Diane. "Excuse me, Petty Officer, can I help you?"
"No ma'am, I'm just fine." I reply.
My disguise must be good, she didn't even recognize me. I'm not ten yards down the passageway when I here, "Have we met before?"
"I don't believe so ma'am." I reply. Shit. Stay calm, maybe she won't recognize me.
Diane's eyebrows knit together and she does this sort of pouty thing with her lips as she regards me. I'm definitely giving her a B for readiness on this one. And it's not because I like her, either. It's because she's scrutinizing the unfamiliar sailor on the ship. She doesn't suspect what I'm up to, or who I am.
"Are you new here?" Diane asks.
"Yes ma'am." I quickly respond, "Just got transferred into engineering last night."
"Just a quick note, Petty Officer, there's an anti-terrorism exercise going on. It's base wide, and we're on full alert. Be sure to be extra vigilant on sentry duty." Diane replies.
"Yes ma'am. I'll keep that in mind. By your leave." I reply and we go our separate ways. Definitely she's more aware of this exercise than the average person on base is.
Shades and Mario already infiltrated an hour ago with a work crew, and my next goal is to check the engineering space out where they'd put IEDs (Improvised Explosive Device). They're training models of course that just pop and spin and throw smoke into the room, but they're enough prove to the commanding officer of the Sea Hawk how vulnerable in port his city at sea really is.
We're done, we've stolen quite a few important documents and files, set the IEDs, and I've done my personal errands. Opportunity only knocks once, Hart, remember that. And I do, when I see last night's pretty boy, Lieutenant j.g. Chris Osmond walking down the p-way.
We're in an isolated spot aboard the boat, so we've got a big surprise planned. As soon as we greet him with an unenthusiastic, "Good morning sir," Mario throws a tarp over his head, Shades punches him in the stomach, and I administer the coup de grace by putting him in a sleeper hold. We bind and gag him with duct tape and put a sticker on his chest that reads Dead Hostage for this exercise.
We leave the ship, but not before I see Diane cradling a red rose in her left hand, carrying a cup of coffee in the other. She's clearly happy about my surprise for her and I grin broadly as we leave the ship. I hope Chris likes that IED I put in his locker and the tape recording that says, 'Smile, you're dead, ha ha ha.'
~ ~ ~ ~
20 September 2011: Sitting in my hotel room I sit reading the paper. I'm entirely in shock as I look at the headline. NAVY LIEUTENANT MISSING. The picture of the lieutenant in question is Diane Schonke, the woman I love. There, Hart, it wasn't easy to admit it to yourself, now was it.
What will I do now? I have responsibilities for my unit. However I haven't been able to sleep since yesterday when I heard the news. I can't just wait idly for news of Diane, because I've got that sinking feeling that the reasons she's missing is directly connected to those kidnappings I mentioned earlier. I don't know how I know, but I know for sure, she is in the hands of what Intelligence calls the Heartless Pipeline.
What this means is that the victim(s) kidnapped are taken from whatever world they hail from, and within forty-eight hours they are transported off world, usually to Traverse Town, the crossroads of the worlds and a hotbed of cloak and dagger intrigue. I received the news of Diane's abduction yesterday, so that means if I hurry I can find her here. I know what I have to do now, and I silently tiptoe from the room to set out on my journey.
I know not how long it will take. I only know that Diane's life is at stake and that I am willing and able to endure any hardship and that the journey will be one fraught with peril. I know when I walk out that door I shall become a rogue operator. I will be seen as a traitor and thus be stalked by not only whatever foes I face on the journey but also members of my own unit.
I throw on my well used brown leather jacket, underneath it I wear my 9mm Smith and Wesson handgun and five double stacked magazines each carrying fourteen rounds of ammunition. My first stop is the USS Sea Hawk.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Conrad Hart, I'd never expected you to show up around here."
"Chris Osmond, pleased to meet you." I reply sarcastically.
"Watch your tongue. Consider yourself lucky that what you did to me was part of the exercise. Though I wonder what was with that stupid little prank...." Chris begins.
"You shut your trap." I reply harshly, "Don't you even care Diane's missing? Anyway, if you want the truth, YES I did it to spite you. Do I care about that now? No. What matters is Diane."
"I should have you arrested. I'm taking it this investigation isn't condoned by...." Chris begins.
"Damn you to hell!" I reply and land a blow with my fist onto his face, "How far would you go for the woman you supposedly love? And what have you done, nothing?"
"I have duties here!" Chris says, emphatically, "I can't...."
"You WON'T!" I snap back.
"Do anything about that. Yes," Chris replies, breaking down in tears, "I love Diane, but I can't...."
"...No, you won't do anything." I reply. I'm unmoved. If he really loved her, he'd follow my route, forsaking all for the woman he loves.
"Now," I continue, "Mr. Crybaby Prettyboy, I believe this is her stateroom, and there is something I need to collect."
"What could that be?" Chris asks.
I quickly eye a half written letter on her desk, the object of my quest. Diane and I always have kept in touch since we went our separate ways. "Hey, that's evidence...." Chris protests.
"Hey, go fuck yourself. You, nor the Navy Criminal Investigative Service, are gonna find anything by searching around like a bunch of blind apes." I reply, as I leave the ship, abruptly. He does nothing to stop me, which is just as well, for nothing shall stand in the way of my quest. My next stop, Traverse Town.
~ ~ ~ ~
Traverse Town: "Fools!" Maleficent shouted, berating a group of men standing somewhere in the Third District.
"We got the numbers that you needed, exactly." One of the masked men replied.
"Yeah, and victims aren't as easy to come by now!" Another interjected.
"Yes, I need people to experiment on to create more and powerful Heartless, but you could have been more discreet." Maleficent replied, holding up a newspaper with the headline. NAVY LIEUTENANT MISSING.
"It happens all the time on that world. Someone will go missing, and for a few weeks they'll be in an uproar trying to find him or her and then it winds up in a cold case file somewhere." One hooded figure interjected.
"Perhaps." Maleficent said, "Alert all our agents and tell them to be especially careful. For all we know someone could be searching for her."
"Truly, but can one man stand against us?" Another of the conspirators began.
"Do not underestimate the power of the heart. It can drive one to greater lengths than one dare realize." Maleficent replied.
"Do you think she could be a key?" Ansem asked, he appeared behind the group.
Not even turning to acknowledge, Maleficent said, "She could be. But if her heart be not pure, you can have her and transform her into another of your many creations."
"Truly." Ansem replied, "And she is one so fair and lovely, with a heart so pure. It is a true pity to transform such a beautiful creature into a Heartless."
"If it serves our purposes well, it's worth the price. Besides, a bit of darkness will collapse even the most stalwart of hearts." Maleficent replied.
From the confines of the trunk where she lay, tied up and gagged, Diane let a single tear flow down her cheek. She knew not that a man who loved her more than anything was now in search of her. The ropes binding her hands behind her cut into the skin, bruising it when she tried to struggle. The one around her ankles were equally biting. And as she heard the two people, one of them a woman, discussing her fate and those of other hostages, she knew her situation was dire.
~ ~ ~ ~
Will Conrad find his beloved in time? What will he uncover in Traverse Town? Next chapter, Arriving in Traverse Town. Please R&R.
AN: I'm guessing Ansem created some of the other types of Heartless as well as the Shadows through his experiments.