About twenty of the Task Force's soldiers—which included the Captain, Ghost, John, Claire, Roach, Meat, Royce, and Gear—arrived in Rio de Janeiro the next day. They managed to find an abandoned warehouse within the city, which they used as their base of operations. Their gear that they brought with them consists of a wide array of fire arms, explosives, and electronic equipment for intelligence gathering.
Gear was busy typing in a laptop, already working in finding Alex's precise location when John walked up behind him.
John looked over Gear's shoulder, seeing what Gear is doing. "Crap…I forgot what this is called…" John said, seeing a map of the city with some areas highlighted.
Gear cracked a small smile. "It's called Geo-profiling, Savior," Gear said. "I highlighted areas of the city where officials raided caches of Alex's weapons. I'm trying to find an overlapping area from these zones, which could be Alex's base. I expand the highlighted areas every two square blocks if I don't get a zone."
John was a little worried about Gear's method. "Won't it be easier to add other variables…maybe like, um…Alex's gasoline receipts or things like that?"
Gear just stared blankly at John. "Damn…didn't think of that. Thanks Savior."
"No problem."
John then walked around the warehouse, observing what the others were doing. Captain MacTavish and Ghost were busy discussing strategy while hunched over a map of the city. Roach and Claire were checking their gear and cleaning their weapons. Meat, Royce, and several other troops went into the city, looking for any leads that might help the Task Force locate Alex.
John is a man that can't sit around and do nothing.
So…John walked up to MacTavish and said, "Excuse me, Captain, but I'm going into the city. I wanna see if I can get any leads."
MacTavish looked up from the map of the city. "Sure, go ahead, Savior," MacTavish agreed. "But you still need to follow the 'buddy system'." He then looked at Claire and added, "Claire, why don't you go with him?"
Claire looked up from her dismantled M4 Carbine. "Yes, sir," Claire said. She put the parts of the carbine on top of a table and followed John. Together, the pair exited the warehouse and walked in the populated streets of Rio de Janeiro. They wore regular street clothing; nothing that would advertise them as soldiers or mercenaries. John wore simple jeans, white and black-striped sneakers, and a light blue polo. Claire wore shorts that were rolled up a little bit above her knees, flip-flops, and a velvet-colored tank-top.
John dug his hands into his pockets and he did a quick glance at Claire. He quickly looked away; his face a little red and warm. In truth, Claire looked nothing like a soldier. Her arms were slender, her legs were well toned, and her curves…she had the body of a model.
She is…beautiful…John thought. He mentally kicked himself again and also bit down his tongue, drawing a little bit of blood. Dammit John! If the General knew what you're thinking, you'll either end up court martialed or beaten up…or both! She's his daughter!
John stopped walking and turned to Claire. "So…" John said, trying to come up with a conversation with Claire. She looked at him and waited for an answer; her fierce, blue eyes looking deep at John's calm, milk-chocolate eyes.
There was an awkward silence between them; they only heard the conversations from the other civilians. "About what happened—back at the base—I'm…sorry for what had happened," John apologized.
She shook her head dismissively, as she replied, "It's okay, Ramirez," Claire reassured John, "My father told me what really happened."
John gave a small smile of relief. "Good…"
As they continued walking, Claire was wondering where they're going. "Ramirez, do you know where you're going?" Claire asked John.
Looking over his shoulder, John replied, "Well…the local pub."
He then felt a strong grip on his left arm. Claire glared at him, a spark of anger in her eyes.
"What?" Claire growled.
John felt a bit nervous. He tried to shrug off her grip, but was unsuccessful. "Let me explain: you hear many interesting things from a local bar. Thugs are too stupid from being drunk to keep their mouths shut. They'll spill anything."
Claire released her grip from John's arm. "Well…I guess…that's true," Claire reluctantly agreed.
Soon, they stood at the entrance of a local pub called the "Blue Pearl."
"Are you sure that this will work?" Claire asked.
"Believe me, it does," John stated, "One day, me and my Marine friends decided to get a few drinks in a bar—I had soda, I'm not much of a drinker. Anyways, we were sitting at a table, talking about past missions, the sorts. Then we saw some loud mouth drunk messing around the place. Eventually he blathered something about having an affair with someone else's wife. You know what the catch was?"
"What?" Claire asked, curious.
John cracked a smile from the memory. "The husband was there. The husband was sober enough to hear the drunk. There was a huge bar fight soon afterwards. My friends and I had to break it up."
Claire didn't smile, but she had her mouth slightly agape. She understood. "Ohhh…"
They walked inside and saw that the bar was busy. Most of the bar seats and tables were occupied. There was a wide collection of alcohol displayed on the wall behind the bar counter. There were patrons playing at the billiards table. All in all, this bar was perfect to hear things, but there's one problem…
Claire placed a hand on John's shoulder. When he looked at her, Claire seemed a little bit worried.
"I REALLY hope that you understand Portuguese," Claire whispered.
"Don't worry," John reassured her, "Dad gave me the Rosetta Stone™ program during summer vacation after Freshman year. Spent many vacations studying every—and I mean EVERY—language available in the program." He scratched his head, somewhat embarrassed. "So…I'm an unofficial Linguist." He pointed to a small round table in the epicenter of the room. "Why don't you save us that table over there? Do you want a drink, also?"
"Just a ginger ale," Claire replied as she walked to the table.
John walked over to the counter and waited for the bar tender. A Brazilian man wiping a beer mug with a clean rag walked to John.
A/N: The speeches that start and end with " / " are said in Portuguese.
"/So what can I do for you/?" The bartender asked in Portuguese.
John leaned forward on the counter, smiling a bit. "/A Coca-Cola and a ginger ale, please,/" John replied in perfect Portuguese.
The man smiled and he turned around, getting the drinks. "/I never saw you and your stunning friend enter here before,/" the bartender said over his shoulder, "/Are you guys new here?/"
"/Well, kind of. We are tourists; we want to explore the city a bit,/" John replied.
The bartender chuckle a bit as he gave John his drinks. "/Are you two a couple or married?/"
John's face slightly blushed as he took the drinks. "/Um…n-no. We're just friends,/" John replied.
"/Meh, whatever./" The bartender then left to attend other waiting patrons.
John walked back to Claire's table, still a little bit flustered from the bartender's comment. He gave Claire her drink and sat down with her.
"Are you flustered about something?" Claire asked, noticing the red in John's face.
"N-no," John stammered. When he looked at Claire, he knew that she didn't buy it. He gave a small sigh and changed his statement. "The bartender thought that we were a couple."
When she heard John, her face turned a bit reddish as well. "Well what did you say?"
"I just said that we were just friends. Nothing else."
"Good." Claire looked around the bar. She then looked at John and asked, "Do you understand all of this commotion Ramirez?"
"Yes, but nothing significant." John finished the rest of his soda and placed the empty bottle on the table. It was getting late; the sun was starting to set. This is taking…a long time. I hear things of affairs, drugs, but nothing about weapons trafficking or Alejandro or his assistant. He leaned on the back of his chair. So now what?
"Hey Claire, do you have a nickname?" John asked.
Without looking up from her drink, Claire replied, "No; I think it's a bit too childish."
"Oh…so Claire, you were in the Army Rangers?" John asked.
Claire looked up from her now empty glass. "Yes, I was, as soon as women were allowed to. I believe I met your younger brother, James."
A/N: Well, the story takes place in the future. I guess by then, the rules must have changed.
"You have?"
"Yeah, I think I have. Did he have black dyed hair, about twenty-one years old, dark brown eyes, and…slightly taller than you?" John nodded. "Then I guess that was him then." Then she remembered something odd about James, John's younger brother. "Wait, he's married and has a daughter, right? How old is his daughter?"
"Oh…I think I know why you're asking that," John interrupted, "James adopted a seven year old girl about six months ago."
Then he heard something interesting on his left.
"/Gah…that good for nothing trader is slacking off again!/" a drunken man said, his words slurred.
"/He and his assistant are slacking off on their job!/" another drunk agreed with the other man.
Bingo! John thought. He looked at Claire and saw that she was talking to him. He leaned forward, pretending to listen to her while he listened to the drunken pair.
"/The Militia is still low on weapons, and the Red is not giving us any weapons,/" the first drunk added, "/Do you know where they are, Luis?"
John heard—presumably Luis—took a swig of whiskey from a glass. "/I don't know where the Red is, but I think I know where his assistant is. I believe it's…the Hotel Rio/."
"/Hehe…good. Perhaps we can make a…*hic*…visit tomorrow noon./"
"/Agree. Let's meet here at 10 first, and then make our visit. Now let's get out of here; I think…*hic*….our ride is still waiting outside./"
John heard the two men get out of their seats. If they're leaving by a car…I need that license plate number. He turned his head and saw two men wobbling towards the exit. They both wore regular street clothes, but one was wearing a Brazilian soccer jersey, the one you see at the FIFA tournament, while the other had a bandana wrapped around his head.
"John?" Claire asked, interrupting John's thoughts. "What are you looking at?"
John bolted up on his seat; he cracked a small smile. He looked around, making sure no one was looking at him, and then he leaned forward towards Claire.
"I got a lead, Claire," John whispered. Claire leaned forward, listening intently. "You see those two men leaving, the ones with the bandana and the soccer jersey?" Claire looked at the exit and saw the two men John described.
"So what are you going to do?" Claire asked.
John took out a carton filled with James's homemade cigarettes—which he got from a care-package. "Going out to smoke," John hinted. It wasn't the whole truth; John just needed an excuse to get outside. Claire gave a small nod, catching the hint. John then got out of his seat and added, "Stay here." Then he walked outside, following the pair of men.
Outside, John stood beside a newspaper stand, lighting the end of the cigarette. On John's left, the two men walked towards a white van. Without looking up, John scanned the rear of the van for the license number. Soon, he found the plate.
JFW 618…gotcha…John thought. He then saw the location where the license plate was registered. Huh…a Sao Paolo license plate…in Rio de Janeiro…this will make our job a helluva lot easier.
The two men entered the passenger section of the van and drove off.
A designated driver...smart.
Inside…
Claire was waiting inside for John to come back inside. However, she doesn't know that she was in danger. When she wasn't looking, a group of men walked up to Claire. When Claire saw them, the men had perverted grins on their faces.
Not good…Claire realized.
One of the men spoke in Portuguese. When he realized that Claire didn't understand him, he said in blunt English, "Hey baby! Come with us…we give you good time…" The other men chuckled in agreement with him.
Let's see what I'm up against: five men, all in their twenties, apparently drunk…I can handle them if they try anything funny.
She just shrugged them off.
One of the men tried to make advancement towards Claire. The stupid man walked behind Claire and placed a hand on Claire's left shoulder, trying to rub her.
Bad mistake buddy…
Claire immediately turned towards the arm, pushed it away with her left arm, and broke the man's nose from a right hand palm strike. The man staggered back, stunned at what had happened. It took some time for the man's drunken brain to register. After about a second of stunned silence, the man covered his bloody nose with his hands and started to scream in agony, and then he fainted. Apparently, the man faints at the sight of blood. All attention in the bar turned towards the group of men and Claire.
Claire got out from her seat and glared at the men with rage in her eyes. "I don't like to be touched," Claire growled.
Apparently, the other men didn't appreciate someone hurting one of their friends. The one that talked to Claire tried to slap her. Claire blocked the slap with her left hand and followed with an uppercut to the man's stomach. She didn't stop there: she then strike the man's throat with a thrust, between her forefinger and her thumb. The man couldn't breathe; he grabbed his throat with both hands and collapsed onto the floor, flailing like a fish on dry land.
One of men that were still standing flanked Claire. He managed to grab both of Claire's hands and restrained them behind her.
"You bitch!" The man yelled, "You pay for that!"
Claire wasn't worried; she has something that the men don't have.
Someone tapped the shoulder of the man that restrained Claire. The man turned around and he got a face full of fist. The man let go of Claire and fell unconscious from the blow.
I have a lethal Marine trained in Martial Arts as a body guard…Claire thought.
John Ramirez cracked his knuckles as he walked past Claire and stood in front of her.
"/If you want to fight…/" John said to the remaining men, "/Fight me instead…leave the woman alone./" He then assumed a fighting stance and his toes clenched inside his shoes.
The two remaining men didn't wait for another invitation. One of the men threw a punch at John, but John easily blocked by pushing the punch to the side with his right arm. The other man then threw his own punch, which was blocked nonetheless. Then two men decided to attack at the same time. John just leaned backwards, his back at 45 degrees. That caused a collection of gasps throughout the bar; even Claire had her mouth slightly agape from the amazement.
John used his left arm to push the men's punches to the side. He then went back up, took a spinning step forward, and backhanded one of the men. One of the men went down for a brief second. John dashed towards the other man, ducked the man's swinging kick, and pulled up the drunk's right leg, causing him to fall towards the ground. While still holding the man's foot in his left hand, John punched at the man's crotch, and then he grabbed the man's other foot. He lifted the man about two feet into the air and slammed him back into the ground. The move looked something from a Wrestling match. The man went unconscious from the impact.
The man that couldn't breathe from Claire's attack recovered. He grabbed one of the pool cues. The man ran and swung the cue like a baseball bat at John's head. John caught the top section of the cue in the open palm of his right hand, and jerked it away from the attacker. John twirled the pool cue like a staff and held it with both hands in a battle ready position. The man then reached for something at his belt, and pulled out a revolver. It was rusty and unclean from neglect. John swung the cue at the pointed gun, and the revolver actually broke in two places: the barrel and the hammer were broken off. John then swung the cue at the man's right knee. As the man instinctively brought up his knee, John then brought down the cue at the men's neck on the left side. The man went down and stayed down.
The man that John backhanded got back up and took out a knife. He then charged at John with the knife poised and ready to strike. John then turned on his heels and ran towards a wall with the man chasing after him. Once John was at the wall, he still continue to run, and—with untold litheness—started to do a wall run, even put a step on the low ceiling. John kicked off the ceiling and landed behind his attacker. While the man was still flabbergasted, John took a step with his right foot forward and swung the back end of the cue at the man's face. The man staggered back. John took another step forward with his left foot and swung the other end of the cue, once again striking the man's face. For a final time, John stepped forward with his right foot and swung the back end of the cue. The man was thrown off his feet and fell to his right. The man was trying to get back up, but John was already on top of him. Instead of beating the man into a pulp, John pressed his fingers firmly into the man's solar plexus. The man fell back onto the ground, unable to move for now.
John got back up and scanned the bar and saw that all five men were down. He put the cue down and looked around the bar, seeing the damage that they created. Some smashed chairs, tables, glasses, and dirty foot prints on the wall and ceiling. John then walked to the bartender. The bartender backed away in fear.
John reached for the wallet in his pocket and took out a large wad of bills. He placed them on the counter. "/I'm sorry for the mess, I hope this is enough for the damages,/'" John apologize.
He and Claire left the bar with the police coming towards the scene. They quickly blended into the crowds and eluded the police.
"Claire, are you alright?" John asked, worried.
Claire brushed her left shoulder, a gesture of dismissive. "I could've handled them," Claire replied. When she looked at John, she saw that he looked…disappointed…sad? "However…you did help…so…thanks."
John seemed to smile when he heard that.
Claire was still amazed by John's performance. "How did you do all that?" Claire asked.
John looked at her and cracked a smile. "I had a…very talented sensei," John replied, "Now let's get back to the Warehouse, we have Alejandro's assistant's location, and we have some competition to beat."