Chapter One

The next time Juan woke up, he found himself strapped down into a seat inside a transport vehicle. His hands had been cuffed together and a set of bars had him pinned to the interior wall of the vehicle. A look down at himself would reveal that his gear had been confiscated, leaving him only with his uniform, coat and boots. He could feel his cap resting on his head along with the large bruise on the side of his head. He winced slightly every time he tried to rest his head along the side the bruise was on against the bars.

Seeing how he wouldn't get much rest with his head bruised, he took the chance to see what was all in the transport's main hold with him. He noticed a few of those weird soldiers from before, some holding their weapons in their laps while remaining silent and watching him while others were watching over some large cylinder tank off to the left side. The weapons they held looked almost like very old french styled assault weapons, something the old European militaries and their remnants might have used once before. However they didn't quite look the same as those rifles. Given how they were all sitting on benches, the size of the hold, and the few bumps he could feel, chances are he was on some sort of truck going down a road.

"Looks like our guest is awake." A soldier spoke up nearby, his voice distorted by his full helmet as he stood up to walk over to Juan. The soldier walked over and grabbed Juan by the chin to examine him fully. "Looks like it was a really nasty bruise. Thought you might have cracked his skull there Sergeant."

"Nah. Just gave him a love tap, Staff. Nothing to it." Another soldier replied while the first let go of Juan's face. He would get down to his level and examine him, his face and emotions hidden by the full covered helmet. Juan glared back and proceeded to spit into the visor of the helmet. This earned him a punch in the gut and the wind knocked out of him. He coughed quite a bit as the soldier named 'Staff' wiped his visor clean with his covered hands.

"Well this Three has some spunk and guts alright." Staff commented, done cleaning his visor. He got back down to face level with Juan once more and looked at him. "Alright boy. Who the hell are you anyway?"

"Juan Rico. Corporal. Provisional American Army. Serial number 1956039. 11. 20. 2200." He replied back, maintaining a glare the entire time. In the event of being captured, all PAA soldiers were told not to reveal any information and to simply restate their name, rank, serial number and date of birth. And hope that they either die first, get mercy killed by a PAA sniper or attack, or if possible, getting rescued. However this last option was often rare due to the current situation within the military and full organization. Staff seemed rather interested by this response as he never heard of this Provisional American Army before. Neither had anyone in the truck heard of it before as they all turned towards him, expressions all hidden underneath helmets and visors.

"Corporal? Provisional American Army? Now that is rather interesting. A world in which Washington won huh?" He turned to the other soldiers as they all were a bit amused or interested by this response. This entire team had been handpicked to pick up the Doctor as well as escorting any 'guests' to Clovis for further questioning. This meant they had permission to highly sensitive information they got out of Juan during interrogation. Staff turned back with Juan, a grin underneath his entire helmet as he spoke. "Well I have some bad news for you, Corporal. America doesn't exist nor never has. You have no allies or friends here so don't expect any sort of rescue mission. Where you are going, you will be constantly monitored and kept in a cell. But at least you will get food and clothing...mostly. What do you think of that, Corporal Rico?"

"Juan Rico. Corporal. Provisional American Army. Serial number 1956039. 11. 20. 2200." He repeated once more while the soldiers listened. The last numbers confused them a bit as they were part of the serial number. Staff looked at him for a moment and lifted his chin up to examine his face.

"Hey. What does the last eight numbers mean, Corporal?" He questioned seriously, unsure if this was legitimately giving the correct number or if it was what date it was from when he was born. The Corporal, deciding that they were confused over his birth date decided to repeat the entire phrase again with some differences towards the end. After all, he was a prisoner of war despite being in a strange place with even stranger captorers. Wasn't he?

"Juan Rico. Corporal. Provisional American Army. Serial number 1956039. 20th of November, Year 2200." He replied back to which the soldiers instantly looked at each other silently. Staff removed his hand from Juan's chin, shocked by what he had heard. This person was from the year 2200 a.t.b. or he was the biggest liar around. Then again, given him and that doctor fellow emerged from that strange doorway at the same time, it was likely to be true. For now, the Staff kept an open mind and continued to his next question.

"Is that year you are from or when you were born?" He asked, keeping questions simple as he had his helmet camera recording the entire conversation since the start. Juan rolled his eyes at the dumb question as he spoke back.

"Born." He replied back with one word as his answer. After all, the less he said the better. They haven't asked about military strength, numbers, locations or anything of the sort. In fact, he was positive that they were completely lying the entire time to try and fool him. Must be a trick by the traitorous doctor after all. He made a mental note that if or when he escaped, he would get a radio and try to contact the superiors at the main headquarters to report the act of treason by Pineda. A man that was dangerous and powerful enough to be able to convince people or have people obey his orders on whim wasn't something that the Army didn't need on its focus of pure survival and attempts of reconstruction.

Staff was about to ask another question when the vehicle slammed on its brakes and made him stumble. A few soldiers were confused as Staff instantly pressed the side of his helmet to communicate with the driver. "Private! What's the hold up?"

"Staff Sergeant. There's a burning vehicle on the road causing a small pile up. We are unable to get around it." The response came back on the radio, causing the man to groan. Of course things like this would happen in this part of the settlement they were in. It wasn't too far from the ghetto and car accidents involving Elevens in shitty cars did happen. Of course, this part of the highway in question was in the ghetto part and barely any Britannians or 'reputable' people lived in these slums so it was considered a danger zone for them. He turned to his squad and began to bark orders.

"Holmes. Connors. Watch the prisoner and the container. The rest of you on me. Let's clear this wreck immediately." He ordered as he opened up the rear doors. Two soldiers moved over to Juan while the rest followed Staff out the door. The doors would close, leaving the three inside alone. Outside the truck, the Staff could see several cars in both lanes stopped with mainly Elevens or 'Honorary Britannians' behind the wheels as there was a burning truck blocking the two lanes of highway. It looked like the truck could be moved off the road if they pushed but the fire was a bit questionable along with the fact they had no clue what it was carrying. Staff would motion his unit forward through the car jam to reach the truck, staying alert and weary around these Elevens. After all, they could be terrorists waiting for an ambush.

"All of you! Stay in your cars and do not move! That is an order!" He shouted, moving past a few cars with Elevens looking out their windows at them. The situation couldn't be any worse since everyone in the immediate area could be or is a potential terrorist. The entire squad remained alert with a firm grip on their carbines as they got closer to the burning truck. Staff kept a firm grip on his rifle, scanning the area once they were close enough to the burning truck. So far, nothing has happened. His soldiers moved up with him, starting to feel less tense since no hostile actions have happened. As Staff began to bark some orders at a few guys to check and see if the truck could be moved, a few others examined the cars in front of them. The windows on the vehicles closest to the truck seemed rather tinted for regular cars and it was hard to tell if there was a driver inside. One soldier knocked on the window to see if anyone was inside.

"Unroll the window. I want to see you clearly." He ordered loud and clearly with his rifle in hand. He saw no movement inside or any noise as he knocked once more. Fear it could be a trap, he would aim at the window with his carbine while using his other hand to reach for the door. A soldier moved over to aim at the front of the car as back up, ready to fire into the car. The soldier held to the door handle and when his buddy nodded his head, he pulled on it to open it. The sound of a loud beep made the entire squad's blood run cold for the last time.

The explosion of the truck bomb would rip the entire squad and two front cars apart. When that happened and once the shrapnel was no longer airborne, the rebels moved swiftly out of the cars they were in and moved towards the armored transport with weapons ready. A large trailer truck moved behind the armored Britannian transport and blocked it off as several rebels emerged from the truck along with a red Glasgow Knightmare Frame. They aimed at the vehicle and approached it to take its main cargo. One rebel who could speak English spoke it for those inside to hear. "Get out of the vehicle with your hands up. You are surrounded and outgunned."

The driver got out of the vehicle pretending to surrender until he pulled the carbine out from behind the door and tried to fire upon the rebels. The rebels mowed him down remorseless after seeing him try to pull the gun. A few rebels stacked at the rear door with the red Glasgow aiming at it. They yanked the doors open and the two Britannian soldiers who were at the door armed were caught off guard by the sight of the frame. They tried to fire and run but the rebels yanked them down and began to beat them with their weapons and rifles.

While this happened, a few rebels went inside to secure the cylinder when they noticed another person inside in the far back. They would aim at them only to lower their weapons in confusion. Juan looked at them for a moment, wondering who they were in return while he was still handcuffed and pinned to the wall. They were clearly not an organized military force judging by the civilian clothing and random bits of weapons and bandoleers. If anything, these guys were probably guerrillas or rebels of some sort. Judging by the Asian features and how they were dressed, he wasn't in Greenland anymore. One of them walked over and examined him. He began speaking in a weird language Juan had never heard before.

"Hey, Michiru. Take a look at this Britannian. Ever seen a uniform or emblem like this before?" The rebel spoke in his native language as his buddy walked over and examined the emblem on Juan's cap. He never saw this sort of emblem before but judging by the fact it was on the cap and the sleeves of the jacket, he assumed it must be a very important unit from the Britannian Empire.

"I cannot say I have. He doesn't look like a regular Britannian for sure. Maybe he's from some special unit. Seems rather young though." Michiru offered, pointing out Juan's obviously hispanic looks and features. He glanced behind him at the doorway and shouted loudly to someone outside. "Kallen! Ohgi! We have a strange Britannian in here! He's chained to the wall and handcuffed! What should we do with him?"

At this point, another rebel appeared, walking inside to check in on what the two others found. This rebel had a headband around his head with a bit of a high haircut. He was clearly Asian as well despite the brown hair as he examined Juan in question. He had an assault rifle with him and wore a leather jacket with the star of David on it in yellow. He looked at Juan with curiosity, his gaze lingering on the emblem on his hat. Nearby, one of the rebels lifted something up he found underneath the benches. It would be green military web gear and a belt, Juan's vietnam era web gear to be exact. The rebel who found it looked at it before turning to Juan and Ohgi. "I think I found his gear. Doesn't look like Britannian gear to me. Has the letters U and S combined on each of his pouches."

Ohgi examined it from his spot near Juan before turning back to him. He didn't know what the acronym US meant but chances are it could be a special unit within the Britannian military. After all, he had a military uniform on. However he didn't have time to ask questions given they are exposed and on a time crunch. Not to mention chances are that last minute adjustment to the plan with the truck bomb, while effected, possibly alerted the Britannians. He looked around before pressing a switch to remove the bars off of Juan. Juan started to get up when Ohgi spoke. "Let's take him with us. Look for the keys to his handcuffs. Kallen! Grab the cylinder here and carefully load it into the truck! We need to hurry up!"

The two rebels grabbed Juan by his arms and began to escort him out a bit roughly out of the armored truck. He struggled for a moment as he spoke in protest, mainly ignored by everyone around. "Hey! Who are you guys? What do you want with me? And where are we? Also what the hell did he say?"

Once Ohgi found the key and was out of the van, Kallen carefully reached in with her frame's arms and hands, picking up the capsule. With care, she piloted the frame over to the truck where Nagata opened the roof. She carefully loaded the cylinder inside, ensuring it was secured before moving her frame back inside the vehicle folding it up to be more compact. She powered down the frame and got out to go change into her white mover's uniform disguise. Nagata closed up the trailer before moving to the front to start driving. Kallen can change in the back while they begin rolling out of the area. Time was now of the essence.

With Ohgi and the rest, they dragged Juan to a car nearby and opened up the trunk. He struggled a bit, kicking and shouting before they tossed him in with his gear and closed it shut. He shouted and kicked at the trunk's door as the rebels including Ohgi got into the car and began to leave. The truck started up as well and took off, ensuring that they would be splitting up to avoid being tracked. This only left flaming wreckage, an empty armored transport and three bodies behind at the scene. Inside the car, the rebels minus the driver looked back at the trunk area where they heard their new 'guest' cursing, shouting and banging against the sides. "Get me out of this fucking trunk! I have no idea what the fuck you want or what you even speak! Tell me where the fuck am I and why you want me!"

"Hey. This kid sounds very pissed." One of the rebels jokes to his buddies, banging on the seat in return to Juan's banging. A few of them laughed while Ohgi remained silent. He was focused on the main mission which was to get back to the ghetto and wait for the others to make their escape undetected. He had high hopes on Kallen and Nagata to get that gas away from the Britannians and possibly find a way to use it against the military. Of course chances were that the Britannians would really want that gas back. Ohgi preferred to just show the gas all over the internet and let the public see what Britannia has been doing to people in Japan. Another loud bang from the trunk snapped the leader from his thoughts as he glanced back in the direction of the trunk.

"Hey, Britannian. Who are you and why were you being escorted in that van?" Ohgi asked loudly in English for the captive in the back to hear. The pounding stopped causing the rebels to look at each other. There would be a bit of movement before their guest spoke up.

"What the fuck is a Britannian? I'm an American and I was captured by those clowns. I'm Juan Rico. Corporal. Provisional American Army. Serial number 1956039. 11. 20. 2200." Juan sounded off for them to hear, unaware that they were confused by his response. They had no idea what an American is or the fact he claimed to not be a Britannian. Ohgi was extremely confused for a moment as he never expected this response before. However it could be a lie as he could be covering his own ass. He tried again as he spoke in English once more.

"What is an a-mare-rick-an then? You speak English and have a military uniform so you look like someone from the Britannian Military. Is this Provisional A-mare-rick-an Army a special Britannian military unit?" There was silence from the trunk save for some shifting and a bit of muffled cursing and comments. Ohgi heard the comment of 'the fuck is a Britannian' from the trunk along with some more noise. Finally they get another loud answer from Juan.

"No! I ain't a damn Britannian and the PAA ain't part of this Britannian Military bullshit. It's the Provisional American Army. Not this British shit you keep saying. How about you answer some of my questions instead? Like where the fuck am I and who the hell are you guys? And when can I get these damn handcuffs off my hands!?" He shouted back as he kicked against the trunk's latch. Currently he glanced around to see if there was anything he could use to get out of these handcuffs. So far, nothing really looked useful to break free of his cuffs.

"Look. When we get back to where we need to go, we will question you for real and see what unit you really belong to, Corporal." Ohgi replied back, deciding to end the questioning for now. Now being ignored again and not getting any answers, the Corporal started to kick and bang against the trunk's door to try and get it open. After a few moments he stopped and took another look at the handcuffs. They looked like police handcuffs almost even down to the key slot. He thought for a moment before he carefully reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small metal pick.

This wasn't the first time he had been handcuffed before or messed around with lockpicking. In Proven and Upernavik, usually scavenging runs required a small knowledge of lockpicking in order to get access into old buildings and trunks. And he had been able to learn how to pick open handcuffs from a Sergeant once in exchange for a few bottles of alcohol he found on said scavenging runs. With care, he slowly slipped the metal pick in and began to carefully wiggling it in and slowly get it bent into a shape. It took a few moments but eventually he heard a small click and his right hand was free from the cuffs. He moved his left hand in front of him and quickly undid the cuff to his wrist, now free. He pocketed the cuffs carefully, figuring he could use them for later.

With his hands free, he began to feel around the trunk, looking for a means to escape. He found his belt and suspenders of his ammo so he grabbed that and unhooked the flashlight from it. Turning it on, he got a good look off the trunk he was in along with the lock mechanism. Seeing that he didn't have any tools to open it, he shifted and slowly looked underneath the floor covering to see if there were any wires. He saw one on the drivers side and yanked it. He grinned as the trunk door popped open slightly and let go of the wire. He quickly slipped his flashlight back on his web gear and slipped on the gear before opening the trunk fully.

He could see that the car was driving down a large multi lane road and the car behind them was slowing down. The person in the car following looked surprised as Juan instantly looked over at him from the trunk. He glanced around to see where he could jump out without hurting himself. Seeing none, he silently prayed before pushing the trunk door up fully and proceeding to roll out onto the road holding his head with his arms to protect it. The car behind him slammed the brakes and thankfully didn't hit him as he slammed against the pavement with an oof. The car he had been in kept going while the car in front of him placed on its hazards and the driver got out to check on Juan. "Sir! Are you okay?"

Juan slowly staggered to his feet, brushing himself off for a few moments. He looked up at the driver that stopped and nodded his head. "Yeah I'll live. I'll walk it off. No worries."

"Sir. I can take you to a hospital or call the police." The driver offered to which Juan turned it down. Last thing he needed was to have the cops called on him.

"Nope. I'm fine. It's rather embarrassing really how I got locked up there. I got drunk last night so no worries." He lied as he started to move over to the side of the road. He got a good look at the area in front of him. It was a large sprawling ghetto within a massive city, full of various people. They were all Asian looking in appearance so he must be somewhere far away from Greenland and even America. For all he knew, those soldiers lied about America not existing but he couldn't confirm it for sure. "You take care. I'm gonna just walk away. Just pretend you never saw that."

"Sir. I'm pretty sure you should go see someone! I can take you to the hospital-" The driver was cut off when Juan shouted at him.

"I said I'm fine, dammit! Just fuck off and don't tell anyone what happened!" He replied before hurriedly walking down the exit ramp nearby. He didn't want to linger and be spotted by any more soldiers or the guys who threw him into a trunk after they attacked the van he was in. He wanted to find his bearings and get answers rather than back in the same mess. So he left the driver there with his car and rushed into the ghetto.

Once he was a good distance away from the highway and drivers, he slowly undid his gear and took off his jacket. It was too hot now and the white would be a dead giveaway for him. He grabbed all his items off the jacket before taking it and stuffing it into a nearby trash can. He rolled up the sleeves of his BDU shirt past the elbows and slipped his gear back on. He might still be out of place with the full olive drab BDU and cap and gear but at least it would be harder to spot him without the white jacket on. With that done, he slipped his cap on and began walking deeper into the ghetto to avoid being spotted by his kidnappers and possible patrols. His main goal now was to avoid capture or death and to find some weapons to defend himself. And he might need one soon if the glares by the inhabitants of the ghetto were anything to go by.

Note: This is a shorter chapter to go by and it was very delayed mainly because of various shifting interests and the fact I'm stuck on what to do next. If anyone has suggestions or ideas, please feel free to comment or even PM me about it. Otherwise enjoy the current chapter while I brainstorm what to do next.