Author's notes: Hello everyone. Here's chapter two. I hope your all enjoying this story and I promise there will be more action in this chapter, just didn't want to start you off with more than you could handle. Enjoy and please review.
Preston sat on a boulder just on the edge of a clearing about twenty miles away from the Italian government complex they'd been sent to spy on. Haggard was standing a few yards away from him looking restless and frustrated. Preston knew the feeling, sitting down was the only thing he could do to keep himself from running back to the damn facility and shooting up the place; he was not happy. Sarge's voice ranting and raving at command on the radio didn't help to put his mind at ease. Redford had already told Command about the FRATELLO, whatever that was, but they seemed far more interested in getting them out of there.
As much as they all liked to torment Sweetwater and as much as none of them would admit it out loud, they all had grown to like Sweets and even admire him. The man was probably in the custody of the SWA by now and considering the entire complex was guarded by armed military guards and also seemed to be a training facility (and a secret one at that) it didn't mean anything good for Sweetwater. He was a foreign soldier on Italian government property, unauthorized and armed. The Italians were within their rights to consider him a terrorist and/or spy; which also meant they were within rights to shoot him where he lay. Preston knew, however, that they wouldn't.
Sweetwater wasn't wearing anything on his uniform that would pin him as a US Army soldier but even if he was fluent in Italian (which he was) there was no way he could pass off as an Italian national and all the military gear would at least peg him as a mercenary. Command made certain to tell them not to wear their dog tags or any US military patches on their uniforms and to use non-army issue weapons; Sweetwater was armed with an MG-3 (modern remodel of the German MG-42 of WW2) as opposed to his usual government issued weapon the M-247. Haggard had an old soviet model shotgun with pistol grip, instead of the US model. Redford was sporting a P-90 and Preston was carrying an AUG with grenade launcher. All just to complete their disguise.
Preston couldn't bear to think what the Italians could be doing to him. They were probably up to no good as is, thus probably wouldn't mind violating prisoner treatment protocol to get to the bottom of Sweetwater being there. They could be beating him, electrocuting him, or using any number of interrogation methods on him. None of his squad members ever thought Sweetwater to be particularly tough, but tough or not everyone had a breaking point. The most frustrating part of the whole thing was that all Preston could do right now was sit and wait while Redford threw a fit at command and hope that he could convince them to send help to get Sweets out of there. Fat chance.
"Deniability!" roared Redford into the radio speaker by his mouth. "The man was a damn desk jockey before Bad Company! He'll be sure to crack under torture and tell them everything he knows! We need to get him outa there ASAP!" Redford paused for a moment. Preston looked up and saw Redford's eyes widen. "No names on a secured channel! Who the hell is this?" He demanded. Preston and Haggard didn't have their radios on but Sarge's tone didn't suggest any good news. Preston and Haggard turned their radios on to hear what was going on with command. "Well Mr. Smith, I doubt the Special Actions Division will be glad to hear about your lack of appreciation for protocol or your carelessness with its soldiers," said Redford.
"Carelessness? Me?" asked an unfamiliar voice with a razor sharp edge of cockiness. "You're the ones who allowed your position to be compromised. And as far as the Special Actions Division goes, this never happened. Remember?"
"Listen to me you cocky son of a," Redford began.
"No, you listen to me Sergeant!" the unfamiliar voice, Smith, cut him off. "You were all briefed on this. I know, covert ops are all fun and games till you get caught!" Smith was almost ranting now and the arrogance in his voice was gone. "As I recall you gents weren't exactly reluctant to leave the front for this mission, I assume you just wanted a break from the frontlines, well wish granted Soldiers! So unless you want to take that facility all by yourselves, without any help from me or my assets, shut the hell up and wait for the chopper!"
Redford and the others were silent. What more could be said, they knew the risk of a covert op but the Colonel had offered them a mission away from the frontlines and they all went blind. Just for once they wanted a mission that didn't involve dodging sniper fire or anything immediately dangerous. So much for that. Now they had lost a man and weren't going to be able to get him back. Be careful what you wish for, Preston's mother had always told him.
"The chopper won't be there till after dark," Smith was back. "Feel free to double back and watch the facility, they've called off their search. You just might find a window of opportunity," he finished with his cocky edge returned to his voice. The transmission cut off. The squad was silent for a moment, taking in their current predicament and what was said to them.
"Who in Sam Hell was that?" asked Haggard, finally breaking the silence.
"I don't know, some CIA snake named Smith," explained Redford. "The bastard said my name on a secured channel! I take it you both heard all the rest?"
"Damn it!" Preston bellowed as he stood up. "I can't believe this!"
"Wait, that guy said the Italians had called off their search for intruders," said Haggard. "Why don't we take his advice and double back?"
"Are you serious?" asked Redford. "Just the three of us, taking a government facility! We don't even know how many guards are in there or what they've got or where they're keeping Sweets!"
"Yeah but we'd have the drop on em Sarge!" replied Haggard, almost yelling. "We've pulled off these kinda odds before, we can take em!"
"Before, we were at the front we were fighting the Russians; these are the Italians," Redford explained. "You heard Smith. Even if we do go charging in guns blazing and make it out alive with Sweets, do you really think we'd be able to keep it quiet?" he asked. "The Italians will get word out somehow or another and we'll have literally invaded Italy, a sovereign nation! Smith and Command will leave us hangin out to dry on this one!"
Preston couldn't keep quiet anymore. "Damn it Sarge, they'll kill him!" he shouted. Redford and Haggard both turned to Preston. "How can you just leave Sweetwater behind after all we've been through together?" Redford lowered his eyes. "Remember when we were shot down in Russia? I was alone, in an area swarming with Russians and I went after you guys, I ran, drove and shot my way through hundreds of Russian soldiers to save you guys ALONE! And I'd do it again for any one of you!" Haggard and Redford said nothing. "And I'm about to do it again for Sweetwater," Preston finished as he turned towards the woods and started walking.
Redford opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Haggard racked his shotgun. "Sorry to leave you hangin Sarge," said Haggard. "But me and Marlowe have to go rescue a nerdy, loud mouthed, brainiac called our friend" he explained and turned to follow Preston. A few seconds later Preston and Haggard heard Redford chamber a round behind them, they both froze.
"You two idiots ain't goin nowhere," said Redford. Preston was about to say something about how Sarge would have to shoot him in the back to stop him but stopped short when he heard Redford's footsteps approaching him from behind. "Not without me," Redford finished as he passed Preston and walked into the woods ahead, in the direction of the SWA buildings. Preston smiled.
"Hells yeah Sarge! Let's show these spaghetti slurpin Italians what happens when you mess with Bad Company!" Yelled Haggard, he finished with a very Texan YEE HA!
It didn't take them long to make their way back to their first vantage point of the SWA facility. There were a few quad bikes roving the area closer to the fence around the main building (the older one) but it was getting too dark for any of the three men to be worried, especially from their distance. "Well they've stepped up security a little bit," said Redford. "But that shouldn't matter once it gets a little darker. I figure our best bet is to start with the main building and probably the basement if there is one. We get in as quick and quiet as we can, we find Sweets and then we get the hell outa there anyway we can. This is the big time guys, they will shoot us on site and Uncle Sam will deny all knowledge. They probably won't even try to save our asses if we DO get out of this alive! Our last chance soldiers, any second thoughts from you guys?"
"Hells no!" answered Haggard.
"None from me, Sarge, how about you?" replied Preston.
Redford turned toward Preston. "You really think I'd go off on that retirement fishing trip knowing that I'd have left Sweetwater to burn?" asked Redford, almost growling.
Preston lowered his head for a second, ashamed. He looked up with a slight grin. "Well I'm not gonna lie to you, Sarge, you did have us worried there for a second," he answered.
Redford turned to Haggard and looked at him in question. Haggard smiled and held up his thumb and index finger about half an inch apart. "You do talk and awful lot about that Fishin trip Sarge," said Haggard as he lowered his hand.
"Fine then," said Redford. "You two can just stay home while me and Sweetwater enjoy that fishing trip ourselves," he said indignantly.
Preston's grin grew into a smile. "That's a harsh punishment, Sarge," he said.
"That's too bad, I was in the mood for blue marlin tonight," said Haggard with a laugh.
Within the hour, the sun had gone down and the three man squad moved in on the facility. They waited in the dark for about half an hour to make sure their eyes were adjusted to the night; on most missions they would have brought night vision goggles but in this case they were supposed to be gone long before the sun went down. It also helped that it was the middle of summer and the sun being down also meant that it was getting late and most employees of the complex would be off duty by now. The three men walked as carefully and quietly as they could through the forest, not wanting to stir up a calmed hornet's nest. The entire complex was gated in by an iron bar fence, but Haggard had spotted a drop in the ground under the fence earlier which was almost big enough for a man to squeeze under. Haggard dug with his gloved hands until it was wide enough for him to slip under, Redford and Preston slipped under after him. They climbed through another patch of trees and found themselves right in front of the vegetable garden they had spotted while observing the facility earlier. They paid it no mind and crept slowly but surely toward a side entrance to the building.
Preston entered the building first sweeping the hallway looking down the sights of his AUG. Not seeing anyone, he signaled Redford and Haggard with a thumbs up and continued down the hallway of the building as carefully as he could. As the squad made their way down the hall, they were all relieved to not see any security cameras. Whatever the building was used for, the SWA seemed to not be worried about intrusion at all. The interior was well kept and looked sophisticated enough to be a high society hotel. Preston couldn't help but imagine what jargon and comments the squad would have to make if they weren't infiltrating the place and if they had Sweetwater with them. After a minute or two they reached the end of the hallway into a lounge area with lavish couches and cushioned chairs even a large TV set and coffee table. The lounge was dimly lit by a lamp next to a cushioned chair on which a man was sleeping. He wore a black mess Kevlar vest over a white collared shirt, was wearing black dress pants and a black ball cap with the word SICUREZZA embroidered in white on it. Sweetwater was the only one of the squad fluent in Italian but the team had been briefed on enough of the language to know that the man asleep on the couch was in fact a security guard.
"Thank God for lousy watch standers," Preston thought to himself. Preston entered the room first and looked over his shoulder to Redford. He pointed to the sleeping security guard and Redford entered the room and nodded. He slung his P-90 over his shoulder and drew his knife. Haggard entered the room with his back to the others, keeping watch down the hallway they had just traversed, he looked over his shoulder to Redford who returned his gaze. Haggard nodded and trained his eyes down the sight of his shotgun to keep watch of their exit route. Preston moved to the other end of the room which opened up into a lobby area. He peeked out and saw a large glass booth at the far end of the lobby, where the main entrance to the building was. Inside it he could see a small TV set, alight with some sport channel playing, and the back of another security guards head. Confident that the guard in the booth wasn't going to interrupt them he turned back to Redford and nodded in approval.
Redford gripped his knife firmly as he softly stepped closer and closer to his unsuspecting victim. He readied his empty left hand when he was right on top of the sleeping guard. In a swift fluent motion he brought his left hand down and clasped down hard on the guards mouth and brought his knife up to the man's throat. The man's eyes shot open and he didn't even have enough time to grunt before he felt Redford's knife pressing against his jugular and realized it was in his best interests to not resist the uniformed black man above him. Redford leaned downward so his captive was looking straight into his eyes.
"English?" Redford whispered. The guard nodded. "Where is the soldier you assholes captured earlier?" Redford lightened his grip on the man's mouth but pressed the side of his knife even harder against his neck. The guard choked in a breath of air, he'd been his breath.
"Basement," the guard answered, also whispering. "Door is on other side of lobby, to the right."
"No bullshit?" Redford asked.
"No," said the guard.
"Good," said Redford. He pulled his knife away from the guard's throat and placed it in its holster on his jacket. The guard sighed with relief. Redford then pulled a syringe out of his jacket pocket and injected it into the man's neck. The guard cringed and shook from the pain of the needle but quickly passed out. All four of the squad members had been issued a sedative syringe during the mission briefing, in case they ended up in a tight spot and needed to subdue an Italian without doing anything that might violate certain treaties. Redford looked to Preston. Preston nodded, having heard what the guard said.
Preston peeked out into the lobby again and was relieved to see no security cameras scanning the lobby. The squad made their way across the lobby quickly and quietly, the lobby was very impressive; chandelier, classic artwork hung on the walls and even red carpet. Preston and the rest of the squad got a high class vibe off the place that was both charming and sickening at the same time. They made it to the stairs and descended into the basement, it was a depressing looking set of concrete prison cells on both sides down a long corridor. The basement was dimly lit by light bulbs along the ceiling. They found Sweetwater on the left side of the corridor three cells down from the stair case. He was lying asleep on the floor, his face was bruised pretty badly; they had had questions to ask him and they'd asked pretty hard. Sweetwater's glasses lay on the floor beside his Kevlar helmet, Preston figured he played it smart and didn't say anything to piss them off.
Preston pulled out his knife and was about to start picking the lock on the cell gate, he had neither training nor any idea how to pick a lock but he figured he'd improvise. He had just slipped the blade into the lock when he felt a tap on his shoulder; he turned and saw a key on a ring held near his face by Redford's hand.
"It was hanging on the wall," explained Redford.
"Oh," replied Preston.
Preston took the key from Redford, replaced his knife in his pocket and opened the cell door. Sweetwater was awaken by the sound of the gate opening and cringed as if he were bracing for a punch to the face.
"Sweets! It's alright it's us!" said Haggard as he pushed past Preston and Redford and knelt beside Sweetwater. "You all right partner?" he asked.
"Guys?" asked Sweetwater as he blinked several times, making sure he was awake. "Holy shit, you guys came for me?"
"Damn straight we did," replied Haggard. He patted Sweetwater on the back as he sat up.
"Oh, thank God!" Sweetwater sighed. "How the hell did you guys get in here?"
"Sloppy security, and a whole lota luck," replied Preston as he handed Sweetwater his helmet and his glasses. He took them gladly and put them on.
"Thanks guys," he said after a long pause, he sounded a little choked up.
"Hell, you thought we were just gonna leave your nerdy ass here?" asked Redford.
"Shoot where would we be without our most valuable asset?" asked Haggard.
"The Brains?" asked Sweetwater, with a cocky grin.
"No, the useless nerdy guy," replied Haggard with a smile. Sweetwater's face twisted in disgust.
"We actually figured the Italian's would need rescuing," remarked Preston. "We figured by now you'd have talked a bullet into all their heads," he finished with a chuckle.
Sweetwater cringed again and opened his mouth to say something back when Haggard clasped his shoulder. "Awe we're just kidding, you knuckle-head!" he said as he drilled his knuckles into the top of Sweetwater's helmet.
"If you children are done playing," Redford broke in. "We need to get the hell outa here and get to the evac site. Assuming the chopper is still there."
"Wait," said Sweetwater. "You guys didn't bring any support? No reinforcements, no air support?" he asked hopefully but with a slight sense of futility to the questions.
"Bad Company, remember?" replied Redford.
Sweetwater's eyes sank. "Awe shit, this is gonna be tricky then," he said. "Look first, off there's a kid two cells down, we gotta get him outa here. He's our best bet at proving this place and the Fratello exist."
"Wait, stop," Redford interrupted. "First of all what the hell are the Fratello, and how is it you know about them?" he asked. They were reasonable questions, if Redford hadn't asked Preston would have.
Sweetwater rolled his eyes. "Look it's a long story guys," he began. "I first learned about it when I was working with Intel, before I got transferred to Bad Company. And one of the guys at Special Actions, who knew me from before reminded me of it before we got on the chopper; even back at Intel I thought it was just a spook story but."
"Just get to the point Sweets," growled Redford. "What the hell is going on here?"
"Yeah Sweetwater," said Preston. "Let us in on it?"
Sweetwater sighed. "It has to do with genetic and biological enhancements," he began. "Enhancing the human body for combat, things like replacing limbs with specially designed synthetics, dulling the brain's sense of pain and brain washing; some have even called it cybornizing."
"Cyborgs?" Preston asked.
"Yeah," Sweetwater answered. "But none of that Hollywood shit, the real deal. Unstoppable killing machines," he explained as he stood up.
"No offense Sweets but I think those Italians bruised a little more than just your face," said Haggard.
"I'm serious guys, this shit is real!" hissed Sweetwater. "The SWA is government funded and on the cutting edge of medical technology. These people have done it they've created cyborg assassins here and have been using them to kill off enemies of the state and not even just terrorists and criminals but bent government and even politicians who haven't done anything wrong but speak out against the current regime," he explained. "This is it! This is the head of the snake here!"
The squad paused in silence for a moment to take in what Sweetwater had just said. They all knew that Italy had been having an increasing problem with terrorists over the past decade; many had argued that that was why the EU had remained neutral in the war with Russia. It had raised more than one eye brow in the United States government, as well as news and conspiracy theorists, that despite Russia invading eastern European nations and inching closer to the main body of the EU; none of the, supposedly, friendly nations had lifted a finger to stop them. The squad had learned about the terrorists attacks in Europe, particularly Italy, from the news and even though attacks reports were growing more and more often the news hadn't implied it being as bad as Africa or the Middle East. If Sweetwater was on the level, either A: Things in Italy were worst then they seemed. Or B: The Italian government was taking advantage of their predicament for some rapid expansions; the wrong kind.
"You sure about this, Sweetwater?" asked Redford. He and Sweetwater's eyes locked.
"More sure than I've ever been about anything Sarge," replied Sweetwater. Redford sighed then nodded.
"Alright squad on your feet," ordered Redford. Preston and Haggard helped Sweetwater to his feet, he nodded to both of them that he was good to walk on his own. He pushed his way past the squad and led them down the corridor to another cell, in which they saw a young blonde haired boy lying asleep on the concrete floor. The boy looked like a teenager, no older than 14; if that. Preston unlocked the cell door and opened it. They boy didn't move a muscle. Sweetwater approached him.
"Pino?" said Sweetwater, the boy lay still. "Pinocchio?" he said and gently shook the boy's shoulder. "Pinocchio, ti va tutto bene?" he said, asking the boy in Italian if he was alright. Preston was just about to make a comment about the boy's name when in the blink of an eye the boy shifted his weight, looped his right arm around Sweetwater's neck and spun him around into a neck lock. The squad stumbled back in surprise but quickly took aim at the boy. Sweetwater remained still, either he'd expected this or was too exhausted of being taken captive to mind it much.
"Whoa, take it easy there kid," said Redford, trying his best to sound passive but not doing a very good job.
"Let Sweets do the talkin Sarge," said Haggard. "The punk probably don't even speak English."
"It's DOESN'T even speak English," snapped the boy. "And the punk speaks it better than you it seems, "he finished.
"Well ain't you a smartie pants, blondie," Haggard snapped back. "Let me tell you right now son, you keep that attitude up and my grammar will be the least of your worries and killin our buddy there isn't gonna tip the odds in your favor neither!"
"Take it easy Pinocchio," Preston broke in. "We're here to help. You have to have heard us talking down the hall right?" he asked. The boy, Pinocchio, looked into Preston's eyes. Preston was at least ten years older than him but the boy had the eyes of a battled hardened veteran. His eyes were cold, calculating and were screaming with the rage and furry of combat.
"I heard," he said. "How do I know I can trust you anymore than the Government?" he asked.
"Well Gee, we have broken into one of their facilities and already knocked out one of their guards!" Haggard raved.
Sweetwater chocked under the boy's elbow. "Pinocchio," he managed to croak through the teenagers strangle hold. "I heard the guards talking earlier when they brought you in here. I know you were adopted by one of Padannia's leaders and that they sold him out to the government!" Sweetwater was starting to speak more clearly, they boy had loosened his grip enough for him to speak. "Listen to us; we can help you avenge your uncle's death. But you need to trust us!" He finished.
"He's telling you the truth kid," said Redford. "The Italian government is doing some jacked up shit up in here and we're on board with that. If you come with us and cooperate we can bring this back to command and expose them to the world for what they've done."
Pinocchio paused for a moment. "His name is Sweetwater," the boy said and nodded to his captive. "What are yours?" he asked.
Redford introduced himself. "You can call me Redford or Sarge. This is Preston and Haggard," he finished pointing to them respectively.
Pinocchio paused again in thought. The boy's face seemed to lighten slightly. "Redford?" he finally asked. "I want to trust you, but how can I?"
"What choice do you got son?" Redford answered. "You kill Sweetwater we either kill you or slam this door shut on you and leave you to rot. Come with us and you at least have a chance," he finished.
Pinocchio thought for a moment longer, looking from Redford to Preston to Haggard to Sweetwater and back to Redford. Then with slight sigh he released Sweetwater, who slumped limply to the floor, and stood up.
"Alright Redford, I will trust you," he said.
"A wise decision," said Redford approvingly. Sweetwater stumbled to his feet.
"Dang Sweets, you just got your ass kicked by a twelve year old!" Haggard teased.
"I won't tell if you won't," replied Sweetwater.
"You won't tell what?" asked Haggard.
"That you got called out on grammar by a twelve year old Italian boy," Haggard's eyes dropped.
"Lock it up, all of you!" ordered Redford. "We need to get out of here now!"
"One last thing!" said Sweetwater. He made his way out of the cell and down the corridor to a large black trunk on the floor next to the stairway to the first floor. He opened it hurriedly and gingerly pulled his MG-3 out of it. Sweetwater ran a hand over it like it was a priceless heirloom. He then turned to see the rest of the squad and Pinocchio had caught up with him. "I like this gun," he said with a smirk.
"What about me?" asked Pinocchio from the rear of the squad. They all turned to him.
"What about you?" Haggard repeated.
"I need a gun," explained Pinocchio.
"Hell's to the no!" demanded Haggard. "We got this covered kid, you just stay low and leave the soldiering to the professionals!" he said.
"I've killed plenty of men in my life," said Pinocchio.
"Yeah, I'm sure you have," Haggard sneered.
"No Haggard, he's right," said Sweetwater before Haggard could go on. "I heard the guards talking about him earlier, he's knows what he's doing and we're gonna need all the help we can get here."
Redford sighed and rubbed his temple. "Alright, Haggard give him your side arm," he said. Haggard opened his mouth to say something.
"Let it go Haggs," said Preston grudgingly. He didn't like the idea of arming a kid either, but considering what the Italians were capable of things could get pretty ugly.
"The hell with that!" roared Haggard. "This little whippersnapper's-"
"That's an order," growled Redford. "And keep your God Damn voice down!" Haggard grumbled in protest but grudgingly jerked his pistol out of its holster and handed it to Pinocchio. The boy looked over it, checked the magazine, chambered a round and nodded with approval. "Alright, squad move out," Redford ordered. "Preston take point, back the way we came" he finished, lowering his voice.
Preston nodded and carefully made his way up the stairway. He opened the door to the first floor first checking right then exiting the door and spinning to the left, facing the way the way they came. Preston froze in his tracks, training and combat experience had prepared him almost anything. This wasn't anything. There he was looking down the sights of his AUG assault rifle into the eyes of a confused little girl with long black hair.