Okay, once again another espionage genre fic with an original protagonist. Can't be that bored with it can you? I mean it's more original then the usual trend of fics
Warning, there is minor swearing and violence, not suitable for everyone.
Full Metal Panic: The Maluku Stitch Up
Prologue
It was getting tiring now. I had lost track of the real time, they had confiscated my watch. I had to measure it by the number of times someone had debriefed me, their faces varied from one another, but their agenda was all the same; to point the finger at myself.
I was sat in one of the interrogation rooms at the HQ, not that I was a prisoner as such, but they wanted to make it easy for everyone to find me. The room was plain, with whitewashed walls, a single one way glass window for observers, a door that was never open for more then a whisper and always locked when shut tight. In the very centre of this drab room was a metal table; and two chairs either side of it. I was sat in the one facing towards my own reflection in the one way glass window. The only source of illumination came from a lone light-bulb that hung directly above the table. A musty smell hung in the air, of which was humid, stale, and uncomfortable. Wet and sticky pools were forming around my arm pits. As I waited for the next promotion hungry bureaucrat who wanted to take a shot at me to waltz in through the door, I was in a staring competition with myself. I was aware that I was soon going to lose my mind.
So far I had been questioned by about four individuals, one of those I knew only by name, the rest I had never met before. First there were two of them from D/CIS, the paranoid androids, who introduced themselves as Mark and Hugh. Klaus was an aging and balding Scandinavian phoney of mega proportions, who did most of the talking. Hugh, a twenty something yuppie in the making, remained quiet for the most part, he swaggered around the room endlessly with his hands in his pockets, filling in the holes to Klaus' endless torrent of questions for what must've been hours on end. Everything had to be repeated thrice over for those two.
'What was this fellow's name again?'
'You know the one, that bastard who suckered you.'
'Yes yes, what did he say his name was again? How was that spelt? And his first name?'
I was finally fed after those two were content with my answers, or as content as they possibly could be. The food was tolerable at best; I didn't even have menu to choose from, a mess tray with rice and vegetables clumped together was thrust in front of me, complimented with a plastic cup of water that most likely came out of a rusty tap. Not soon after I had had enough of the excuse for food that I was visited by another face, this time Azad from D/Int. He seemed fresh faced and to the point, though he did like to overwork his imagination, especially when it came to the possibilities of the involvement of hostile intelligence services; KGB, GRU, Guoanbu etc. the usual red stain suspects of East Asia. However enthusiastic he may have been, there was only so much interest I can take before reverting back to the same lethargic state I maintained whilst under questioning by Klaus and Hugh. He eventually disappeared as well once he got bored.
Another length of time passed before I'm greeted by a grey haired and bearded man in his forties in very relaxed dress, loose collar and no tie, unlike the other three who proudly displayed their custom made suits to the dunce. I recognised him as Robert, a talkative South African case officer who arranged our short and deadly stay in Maluku. He inquired, as he puffed on cigarettes endlessly, about what occurred in Maluku more then anything else, though ultimately concerned with his own intelligence networks and safe-houses there, if there were any left. He was more interested in covering his own arse, as with everyone else, though I suppose Rob wanted to protect his hard work more then anything else, I couldn't blame him for that. But if he did lose anything, which undoubtedly he did, he'd be more then eager to blame me. He never did blow up though, but nor did he ever smile; no one did, save Klaus who seemed as jolly as a shopping mall Father Christmas.
The disgusting aroma of smoke Rob had brought in with him decided to hang around in the room long after he had left. I wasn't quite out of the woods yet, Hugh was soon in again, throwing more questions at me again as he paced back and forth across the room aggressively.
'Are you sure? Are you sure? For your own sake, you better be sure! It cost you the lives of your team, you at least should be sure or God help you I will make sure you are strung and left swinging.'
I glared coldly at him in response. He didn't seem too impressed. He stopped his exercise program, lent across the table, and exploded.
'Listen to me you limey fuck, what sort of team commander do you think you are? You abandoned those men; you left them to die there in that stinking jungle. Then you further embarrass us by practically handing Amalgam secret information on our Pacific Battle Group! I bet you'll be popular with them, if they find out. Once they find out. If you were an honourable man you would have died with your team! You've shamed us! You've disgraced us!'
I wanted to mess up that suit of his. I lunged at him with a fist into his face. I suppose the observers behind the glass were scrambling to get in here to stop me. I moved and the table and laid in half a dozen more punches into his face while he was still down, before I was subdued by security. I cried out as I felt the pain they exerted on to keep me under control. I grit my teeth as they pushed m up against the bloody whitewashed wall, and were inches from breaking my arm if needs be.
'I'll have your noose prepared.' I heard the little shit comment.
I was eventually forced back down into the hard steel chair once more. I caught site of Hugh nursing his broken face, whilst giving me one last sneer as the door was shut. At least I managed to mess that bastard's suit up. The two guards who manhandled me were left in the room to keep me company. I winced as I flexed by fingers of my right hand. The knuckles looked red and sore. I glanced at the security guards faces, one of which gave me a slight smirk and nod of approval. If I had felt better, I would've laughed. At least now, I was able to find out that it was seven forty two in the evening, it certainly had been hours.
The situation was dire. I was being treated as if I was a prisoner being interrogated. Probably some sadistic payback engineered by Amitt. Once more, the door opened, this time I didn't bother to see who it was. I didn't care anymore. He sighed and sat himself down in the empty chair.
'Why did you have to go and throw a punch at a Captain of D/CIS?' The voice was a heavy German.
I looked at the new visitor's face.
'Prochnow.'
He looked grizzled and grey, someone who was weary with the world, and he had seen a lot of the world, particularly the worst it had to offer. But this man had the admirable ability to not give a shit. Although a familiar face, he still looked at me sternly with his piercing eyes that had seen Hell and beyond.
'Sorry about the treatment John, but your boss was overruled. D/Ops is collared, and D/CIS are holding the leash.'
'Has anyone told you anything about what happened?' I asked.
'That's what I've come to see you about. I spoke to Bob on the way down, he said a few words, mainly about how glad that you didn't cause too much damage, he can spare Maluku, since it's now in the hands of Combat Division to sort out.'
'What about the others?'
'That fellow you messed up is going to have you hung out to dry, for obvious reasons of course. You did ruin his suit.'
I tried hard not to let a smile of satisfaction creep on my face.
'Do you reckon I could get something to eat, it's been a few hours since I was last fed.'
'Sure sure, what do you want?'
'A menu.'
He nodded slowly, and then turned his head around over his shoulder to the observation window, then back around.
'What happened out there? I send you out with five men, you come back with one, who is now missing, the others presumed dead or captured. That's a disaster in itself. Then I hear that three people had been shot dead on the Danaan, and they discover that quite a quantity of classified information on the Pacific Battle Group has been forcibly extracted from their computer. You can see why Lynch's mob is having a field day on this, it's the most work they've had since the Danaan takeover.'
'Finally give them something to do.' I commented.
'Listen!' he snapped. 'You're a good man, your work record and experience before you joined Mithril can easily show that. But this is near enough a disaster, and the higher-ups are looking for someone to blame, you. You are the only survivor, and you were the commander on the ground; and as your commander, I'm also taking heat from brass. This is the perfect excuse for Forward Intelligence to go under; you know our section has opponents within Mithril, we should consider ourselves fortunate to have that ex-Mossad bastard, Amitt in charge, someone who supports us. Now, tell me what happened?' He demanded.
'Very well, I shall be so kind to explain the incident to you in detail from start to finish.' And so I began.
End note: This came about after some mental brain storming when one is unable to sleep at night. After jotting the ideas down on notepad and then discussing it with myself and my pre-reader, I was able to come up with an intriguing plot that could work. And to make sure I didn't lose interest in the idea, as I did with my previous fic on GSD (because I became overwhelmed with college work which takes priority), I wrote this prologue you just read. Anyway, let me know what you thoughts on it, constructive criticism is welcome.
Since the organisational structure of Mithril Intelligence Division isn't shown in FMP or any of its publications (as far as I'm aware), I've decided to use a bit of artistic licence, and sort of create it myself, based on real world civilian intelligence agencies. So, here's a little glossary to help you out:
-D/Ops – Directorate of Operations (not to be confused with Mithril's Combat/Military Division sometimes called the Operations Division/Department/Branch etc. D/Ops is a department under the Intelligence Division)
-D/Int – Directorate of Intelligence (not to be confused with Mithril's Intelligence Division, D/Int is a department under the Intelligence Division)
-D/CIS – Directorate of Counter Intelligence and Security (another department under the Intelligence Division)