Old Battleground
"Whoa," Jacobs mutters as he stares at the island.
"You took the words out of my mouth kid," comments Senior.
From the distance the Ghost squad (plus Cote) are at, the island of Okinawa is nothing more than haze on the horizon, but they can see that the large plot of land is clearly over a thousand kilometers long. They can see the iron walls that reach over thirty feet high, protecting the island but also at the same time keeping those within trap.
The Okinawa military prison is considered one of the most technical modern marvels to date. Somehow the occupying force, the North Koreans, have turned the home of a million people into an enclosed space that could rival Alcatraz. The island was once fought over and controlled by warring tribes, than the empire of Japan, the U.S Marines, before finally the people regain control of their land once more. Now however it has been taken over again, and this time, the island's very infrastructure has been changed. The smaller scabs of islands surrounding the primary mainland have been transformed into observation or radar posts, monitoring everything that comes within a thousand feet of the prison. Nobody has no idea what lies within, no one has ever escaped, the only thing that the outside do know are the rumors and hints the Koreans tell. Such as if you tick off the Korean forces, this is where you are sent.
"I don't know what you yanks are thinking," a New Zealand sailor says as he walks up to them, "but I pray to God that you're not going over there," he nods towards Okinawa.
"Oh yes we are," answers Cote, "and I'm Canadian."
The sailor nods, "Well, if you cause trouble over there," he holds out a hand to Cote, "give them a bit of chaos for the boys of the Navy."
Cote smirks as he grasps the man's hand, "we will…if it comes to that."
The Sailor smiles before walking off to perform his duties. The small patrol boat the Ghosts are on is slowly bobbing in the waves as they plan and rehearse their infiltration and exfiltration plans. The primary troubles they are having is finding a way of get out. They have no idea what the interior is like and aside from rumors they really have no idea what is waiting for them. Another factor is prisoner 918; can he hold his own in a fight? Is he even in there or is he dead, thrown to the lions as the rumors says happens to people who are thrown into the jungle pit? An entire island, almost sixteen hundred miles of a fully mechanized enemy base with an unknown enemy garrison who they are not to kill, talk about overwhelming odds.
"How's Crusader Strike?" Cote finally asks Senior.
"Nervous," he answers, "and so are we." He is quiet before asking, "sir with all due respect your practically throwing them into an ocean full of sharks and tasking them with finding a small goldfish, we don't even know who this guy is, how are we going to find him?"
"Merrick sent some more info," Cote answers, though he keeps his eyes on the haze, not looking at the two men beside him, "we haven't made contact with prisoner 918, but hopefully we are hoping he'll answer to this call phase and know who we are," he looks down at the paper in his hands and reads, "we're friends of Riley."
"Who's Riley?" Jacob asks.
"Don't know; don't care," Cote says, "just as long as this phase gets us to the prisoner, that's all that matters."
"And getting Crusader Strike out right?" Senior asks in a low tone.
Cote gives Senior a hard look, "This is war Staff Sergeant and losses have to be accepted."
"But not deliberately," Jacob answers, "honestly man, I know you had a taste of combat, but we've been living in a warzone for years now."
"And at this point every life matters," Senior says, "especially the lives of our leaders."
Cote is silent before saying, "I didn't mean anything by that, but as a leader, he has to be ready to surrender his life at a given moment."
"He's not afraid of dying," Senior says as he looks at the Canadian, "he's afraid of you dying."
Joyce buttons his pants before standing back and looks himself over. He looks, military speaking, like a standard civilian. Loose clothing, stained jacket, smells like a clump of seaweed and for the final touch he smears grime all over his face. He places on a beanie and looks at his reflection in a mirror, he appears to be noncombatant, but the scars will be hard to explain.
"What do you think I should say when they ask about my face?" He asks out loud.
"Just say you got in a fight with a shark or something," floats back Ash's voice as she gets herself ready from across the room.
Damon rolls his eyes, "yeah that sounds convincing."
"Well then say you were fishing and you got cut by your own hook," Ash suggests next.
"That's even worse."
Finally the female Ghost releases a monstrous sigh as she walks out of her corner and meets up with Joyce. She is similarly dress only she is wearing a sweater with the hoodie covering her head.
She peers at Joyce from beneath her hood for a moment and says, "how about you were fishing next to a warship before it was blown up, by the Koreans to add to the irony."
Damon is silent before saying, "That might just work."
She in turn smiles at him before taking out a piece of paper from her jacket and reads, "Prisoner 918 may know who we are if we tell them 'we are Riley's friends'."
Damon furrows his brows, "Riley?"
Ash looks at him, "You know him?"
He is quiet before saying, "I don't think so…not unless they're talking about Hesh's old scout dog, that's the only Riley I know of."
Ash shakes her head, "I don't that's it," she looks back down and glowers, "that's all they sent us," she crumples the paper up and tosses it aside, "the least they could do is give the description of the guy."
"Maybe even they don't know who we are busting out," Damon offers as he ties his boots.
"Well that makes no sense," Ash says as she picks up a knife and straps it on, "if command doesn't know how he looks or how to find him, what chance do we have?"
"We're Ghosts," answers Damon, "that's what we get when we claim we can do the impossible."
"Do you really believe that?" Ash asks next, actually curious.
"As a matter of fact, yes" Damon replies, "I've been a Ghost long enough to tell you kid, I have done and seen things that many would consider not to be possible," he grins to himself.
"Yeah, but-" Ash is interrupted when Cote's voice fills the air.
"Sergeants," the Lieutenants voice says, echoing from their radios, "get to the deck, we're close."
Damon picks up his transmitter, "Wilco, be up in a bit."
He looks at Ash and says, "make sure to take a pistol, we don't want to look too suspicious."
Ash rolls her eyes, "of course," she says as she picks up a M9 pistol, "question," She says, "what if the enemy sees this as threatening and kills us on the spot?"
"Two fishermen, or fisherman and fisherwoman, in war torn waters without any kind of weapons to protect themselves will look just as odd to them," Damon responds.
"With all these guns lying around the Pacific is starting to look like a prewar America or something," Ash comments.
"True," Damon says as he loads a clip before placing it in his holster, "but it does leave you wondering whether or not if things will ever be the same again."
Ash could only shrug in response before making her way to the ladder, with Damon following.
"It's nice that the New Zealanders lend us their boat," she comments as she starts climbing to the top deck.
"They're just happy that we are finally going to do something to help the struggle," Damon says.
"Even if it's for our own interest?"
"Especially then, in this way we are a whole lot more determine than usual to help," he doesn't see it, but he knows Ash is smirking at his logic.
They make it to the top deck and glances around. The small patrol boat has a main turret at the front while smaller caliber machine guns are placed along the rails of the ship. The crew of Sailors move with caution and fear in their steps. They are deep within the enemy territory now, any wrong move and the entire Korean Navy could be onto them.
Damon isn't sure what to think of this Pacific war conflict. Nobody likes the North and nobody likes China, but those are the only two candidates, whoever wins, South Korea will lose, a pretty much depressing situation from all angles. He can only hope that someone will step in and help defeat the two battering foes, he knows it won't be America, they'll be lucky to survive the Federation war, and if they do, America will be too battle weary and exhausted of equipment to be of any assistance.
"Sergeant," the two Ghosts turns and sees Cote along with the rest of Team Crusader walking towards them.
Cote looks them over before giving a nod and saying, "this might work."
"With all due respect sir," Senior says from behind, "but should we really attempt this, we're not even sure if the ExFIL plan will work-"
"Soldier," Cote cuts off, "victory cannot be achieved without being bold."
"Yes sir," agrees Senior, "but there's a line between boldness and plain suicide."
"Senior," Damon says, "it's alright," he locks eyes with the combat veteran before looking to Cote and nods, "Crusader Strike is all set to go sir."
Jacob fidgets, Senior looks cross while Cote smiles.
"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be," comments Ash, "it's actually quite enjoyable."
Damon grunts in agreement as he throws the small net over the side before settling back on the bench. The fishing boat is barely big enough to hold them despite it being built to hold four people and a small load of fish. The brown little dingy bounces in the open sea as darkness fully surrounds them. In the distance Damon can see spotlights activate on the stronghold of Okinawa that they are just a few miles from. The patrol boat had left them and is retreating back further south. Damon checks his watch, they have twenty four hours to get the prisoner and make it to the evac point or risk being left behind.
He sighs as he glances up at Ash as she stares out at sea. He wished he came alone, he has no idea why, but after what happen in Jasper Park he feels more…accepting of death now, like he saw what was in store for him and welcomes it. He isn't sure if this is a sign if depression or not, he just hopes this doesn't mean he truly is crazy.
His thoughts slowly churn over to Jasper Park, or more specifically his wolf pack. He wonders if Humphrey is still a goofball, if Kate is maintaining her Alpha reputation, if Garth has gotten more muscles or if Lilly is doing ok, he knows war can have a hard affect against people like Lilly, people who aren't accustomed to violence. He then thinks of the pups, they're probably all grown up now, hunting, fighting and providing for the pack. He ponders if Meadow is with them, she is an Omega but Winston had allowed her to join the ranks of the Alphas, so perhaps she-
"Show time boss," Ash's voice suddenly says.
Waking up from his unknown daydream, Damon looks up and sure enough he sees three vehicles that looks like speed boats heading in their direction.
He gulps nervously as he turns around and starts fiddling with the nets while he listens to the roar of the approaching vessels increase. He wonders if this will work, will they be taken into the prison or will the Koreans just shoot them for being an annoyance to their lives?
Before he could speculate some more on these thoughts, he is sprayed with water as the craft encircles them, but Damon ignores them as he starts to pull up the net.
He hears someone yell at him in another language, Korean maybe, but he doesn't show the slight interest. Instead he shouts back, "Speak English or shad up," he says in his best impression on a sea battered sailor.
He hears some slight murmuring before someone shout, "you, fisherman, who are you?"
Sighing like he is irritated, Damon finally looks up. A few feet away from their small craft is a militarized speedboat. There are MG's mounted on all sides, twin turbo engines in the rear and a large cabin occupying a bulk of the space in the front of the boat. Standing along the railing are three Korean soldiers in blue combat uniforms, wearing helmet and black life jackets that doubles as an ammunition vest. One of them is manning the fifty caliber positioned on the stern side of the craft while the other two soldiers have FAD assault rifles aimed at Joyce and, he presumes without looking, Ash.
Taking in a gulp of breath, Damon says, "my name is Zackery," he jerks his chin over his shoulder at Ash, "that's my sister."
The Korean who was speaking steps closer and frowns, "she don't look like your sister."
Damon shrugs, "mama had a pretty adventurous life."
The man glowers with obvious anger before saying, "you in restricted waters."
"Are we?" Damon takes on a puzzled expression, "but this is where the fish are at-"
"You in restricted waters!" The man shouts as the sailor behind the turret pulls back the bolt in preparation to fire.
"Ok! Ok!" Damon says as he holds up his hands, "We're leaving."
"Too late to leave," remarks the Sailor.
Before Damon could act, he feels the boat shake as something large enters the craft. He turns around to see what is happening, but all he is able to see is a Korean swinging his rifle in the Sergeant's direction and everything goes black.
Damon gasps when he feels cold liquid being dumped onto his bare body before falling into a coughing fit. Judging by the salty taste its ocean water and it wasn't long until he realized that he is curled up on a concrete floor, naked.
"Wake up," a familiar voice barks.
Swallowing the bitter water, Damon opens his eyes before shutting them again; he is blinded by a bright light that is placed just a foot away from him.
"I don't understand," Damon finally says, "We are doing nothing wrong-"
"You in forbidden waters," The Korean says before kicking Damon in the stomach, extracting a groan from him.
"We'll leave," gasps Damon, "just let us go."
"You lost your chance fisherman," he is kicked once more in the ribs, "what are you doing with this?"
Damon jumps when he hears the gun shot and the bullet impacting just a hair length away from his buttock region.
"You and woman had this in your possession," states the Korean, "what are fishermen doing with weapons?"
"These are dangerous times," Damon tries to say but is kicked again, this time in the head though, causing red stars to implode in front of his vision.
"You pay for lying fishermen," the Korean shouts, "sentence to Okinawa prison, forever!"
Another kick to the head ends the conversation as Damon is mercifully knocked out.
When the Sergeant Major awakes again it is with a groan.
"Are you ok?"
Damon is more than happy to identify the voice as Ash and not the Korean, he knew they were cold but he didn't think they were that cold.
He slowly crack opens his eye lids.
The first thing he notices is Ash, who is now wearing what looks like grey pajamas that are ten sizes too large, displaying her small but muscled limbs. She has a nasty bruise on her head, but otherwise appears unharmed. He then takes in their surroundings and sees that they are inside some sort of metal room that is empty except for a steel door and a single light bulb hanging above them.
"Where are we?" he finally questions.
"I have no idea," responds Ash, "I just now woke up myself."
Damon groans once more as he feels the throbbing in his head as he slowly rises. However Ash pushes him down and he sees that she is starting to get flustered as she turns away and coughs, "uh, perhaps you should put those on first."
Damon looks down and feels his cheeks go scarlet when he realizes that he is still naked, his lower region however was covered by a set of grey pajamas that matches the ones that Ash is wearing.
"Did…uh…did you see…"
"Wasn't on purpose, I swear," answers Ash, still not looking at him, "I covered you up and got myself dress, that was it."
Damon still feels quite exposed, but he quickly tugs on the clothing. There are only pants and a shirt, no underwear and no spare, he wonders if this is how the prison is usually run. Are they in the prison?
"Where are we?" he asks Ash.
She shrugs, "your guess is as good as mine Sergeant."
Damon sighs as he runs a hand down his face before wincing as he came in contact with a bump.
"I think our plan worked too well," smirks Ash, "they got pretty riled up when they saw your tats."
He glances down and sighs in irritation. He has completely forgotten his tattoos, military speaking, spec ops soldiers aren't authorized to get such designs for if they are ever caught, like now, then the enemy will know that America is somehow involved.
"Do they suspect something?" he next asks.
"Maybe, but isn't that what we are trying to do, make them suspicious so they won't be suspicious?"
It is Damon's turn to grin, "Maybe this thought out plan wasn't so thought out."
They share a quick chuckle when there is a loud ring that fills the room. The two occupants freeze as the door slowly whines before opening. Standing in front of them are two Mandarin looking people, most likely Koreans, their gaze hard, their olive green suites spotless and the Bizons they clutch in their hands look as if they just came off the refinery line.
One of them, a guard Damon guesses, points the submachine gun at them before jerking it to the side and said a foreign word.
"I think that means move," offers Ash.
"I hope it doesn't mean anything else," Damon mummers before standing with Ash right behind him. Together they tramp out of their room and into a steel frame hallway.
The wall, the ceiling and the floor are all covered in metal, all along the frame are doors similar to the one the two Ghosts just exit. The interior feels cool and the contact on the metallic floorcoverings causes chills to tingle their feet. One by one, the doors begin to open and out walk people, men and women, all similarly dress and all having a haunting yet strong look about them. As one, as if it is routine, the prisoners slowly shuffle forward, Damon notices some of them are limping or cradling mutilated limbs.
"Welcome to Okinawa prison," one of the guards spits out in rough English. He then butts Ash in the back and says, "you go now, eat."
Ash gives the man a cold stare but slowly the companions make their way forward. Every so often, Damon would twist and turn to squeeze past the group of inmates, but while he does this he keeps an eye glued to the two guards. They watch them for a moment before turning around and walks away, he notes how the crowd parts in the men wake; it isn't long until he sees why.
A detainee is suddenly thrush forward from the crowd and collides with one of the guards. The man is clearly terrified as he cowers and backs away from the Korean, but the guard shouts at him before bringing up his weapon. The inmate turns to flee but it's too late. The buzz of the gun echoes through the corridor as the bullets strike the offender, but it also hit three other prisoners. One falls dead while the unfortunate bystanders release wails of agony as they lay on the floor, their blood slowly pooling out of their bodies. The guards didn't give them a second glance, acting as if nothing has happened, they continue along their way, but what sickens Damon is that the shot victims aren't help, on the contrary, they are stepped on, their fellow prisoners seeming unaware of them. The injured let out pleas but eventually they are silent.
Damon looks away, and judging from Ash's stiff back, she agrees with Damon's observation.
They file along trying not to draw attention, but it's obvious that the Ghosts are new. A rather tall man glances at Ash and flashes a grin to which Ash returns with a death glare. Damon knows she can probably drop kick the poor guy across the way but at the moment they are caught in a bad position, there is no doubt if a fight starts than it'll be a free for all kind of deal, overwhelming odds, even for Ghosts.
Damon tries to stay close to Ash but every so often they are separated before being reunited again. He also catches sight of different groups of people, perhaps they are gang members? He does notice that the people vary a lot; there are tough looking boys and girls, teenagers, grownups and even an old woman. He also notices that some people hiss and spits in his direction, or more specifically, at the tattoo on his arm that displays the American flag.
He also notices tiny slits high up in the wall, a long narrow line just big enough to fit a gun barrel through and he is sure every so often he sees a face staring out of the slit. There are also squares that stand out along with the line; Damon guesses they slide out of the way, possible passages for a machine gun.
In the back of his mind he acknowledges another fact, he is hungry and tired and they have been walking for a long time. The path doesn't remain straight either, it curves right, left, there are dips and even inclines. At one point it goes straight up and the smooth floor was switched out with stairs. Damon tries to measure his steps and count the minutes till he eventually concludes they must have traveled at least over three miles at this point. Some of the more out of shape inmates are already huffing and puffing while sweat drips from their foreheads.
Finally one such fellow, a man whose belly hangs over the waist of his pants, makes his way along the side of the wall and sits down. Suddenly, there is a loud crack and a moment later, the man's neck explodes as a bullet strikes the flesh. The raged breathing inmate eyes bulge with horror as he flops over and slowly bleeds to death. Damon glances up just in time to see a shadow move away from the small crack in the wall. His theory of the guards observing and killing inmates from the small space is apparently confirmed. He looks sadly at the downed man, who is choking on his own life liquid. Damon wishes he could help, but he already knows the man is a goner; all that he could do is look down at the person in pity before moving on. He is almost out of earshot but he is still close enough to hear the man give one last shuddering gasp before going silent.
This place is worse than Alcatraz, Damon finally admits to himself. There is no safety, the guards will kill any prisoner they see fit and the inmates in turn can just as easily turn on each other considering the death glares they cast at one another. The long walks obviously are made to tucker a person out, possibly to tire them out and make it impossible for them to fight back against the guards, especially since Damon is already feeling hungry, thirsty and even light headed from the blow he received earlier.
Among the mass mob he keeps looking for their target, but the pajamas have no numbers. Apparently the guards don't care who they are, just as long as they don't cause a fight then they won't be killed. He tries to look for someone who could past for a fellow warrior, but there are so many of them. He suspects most of them are Chinese soldiers while the others are either from other warring factions or, quite frighteningly, they are fellow special forces soldiers who got caught.
This is like trying to find a needle in a hay stack while it's being eaten away by flames.
Suddenly he notices the hallway changes. Slowly as they made their way forward, the ceiling widens until they are standing in some form of atrium. Scattered all around are round tables were out of breath inmates are already converging. In the far corner is what looks like a built in stall where people are already lining up, probably to hey their meals. He notes that this room is likewise sounded by the tiny holes and there is more than one place where Damon can see a face or a gun sticking out. He hears a gunshot followed by a cry but he doesn't see who fired or who the apparent victim is.
He catches Ash eye and moving as one they find an empty seat and continue to scan the area but had little success in finding a way out. Damon can't even see a door other than the large opening they have just come through.
"Is this it?" Ash finally asks.
Damon shrugs, "there are probably more prisoners but we have been broken up into different sections of the island."
Ash growls lowly to herself, "chances of us finding this guy is growing dimmer by the second."
Damon nods in agreement as he thinks through the situation. He hears another gunshot and another scream but doesn't look up. This is pretty bleak indeed, a huge super prison and not even a rat hole to peer through. No dirt to dig in and no obvious way of getting out, any attempt to do so or any activity that may look suspicious in nature will surely mean their instant death.
"Penny for your thought," Ash finally breaks through the silence.
"We're never finding this prisoner," he replies.
Ash glances at him before looking away, muttering, "worse penny I have ever spent."
Damon smirks before talking seriously, "we have no idea who this guy is, where he is or even what he looks like. For all we know he's probably dead, I wouldn't be surprised if he is at the rate of death these guys are going through."
Ash nods her head, "I get the feeling that they are doing this partially out of entertainment than any real guard duty."
Damon sighs as he puts his legs on his knee and rubs his aching feet, "maybe this wasn't such a good idea, as soon as it's almost time for the ExFIL we should just go without the prisoner."
"But how do we get out in the first place?" asks Ash.
"I'll figure it out," Damon says in reply.
"But-" she is interrupted when someone seats right in front of her.
"How you doing gorgeous?" the person asks in what could pass for an English or Aussie accent.
Damon quickly looks the man over and instantly knew there is going to be a problem. The man is massive, more than massive; he could be mistaken for a prewar mister universe. His body is ripping with muscles, his biceps looks about the same size as Damon's thighs and the large sleeve of the pajamas he is wearing fits snugly against his mass, in fact this is probably just his size. His head is bald, his face, arms and feet are marked by multiple scars from different scuffles, there's even a few bullet holes spread out here and there. He wonders if he is soldier, if he was, he probably isn't now, years of imprisonment and looking out for himself must have made him, well, feral.
Ash sees the danger as well and Damon can tell she is forcing herself to be nice when she tells the man, "Why don't you find someplace else to sit mac."
The man only chortles, "that's real cute, I like it when newbies tries to act it tough," he makes a move and tries to catch Ash's wrist. However, like a flash of light, she snatches her hand away before returning it and slapping the man's knuckles.
The guy doesn't look fazed, instead he just looks more interested as he smiles, "I like the ones who have a bit of fight in them."
"Then you're in for a package deal," Damon says as he scoots closer to Ash, he isn't sure if they team up together they can take the man down, but he's willing to try and he guesses that Ash is too.
Not looking the least bit intimidated, the man stiffens his back, gives them a grin and curls his fist when out of nowhere someone grabs his shoulder and says, "easy there bruiser, I want time with this lot."
The two comrades turn to see someone new and more…decent, if anything, looking man. He has a brown beard and long hair that covers much of his face, but Damon can see the age lines, despite that though he has a lean and obviously tough body. Yet what catches Damon's attention are his green eyes which has a haunting look in them but there is also a spark of fire that he has only seen in the eyes of the few soldiers who haven't given up, eyes of a survivor, eyes of a fighter.
The man, bruiser, a word that Damon believes matches the man quite nicely, glares at the mysterious person before standing and lumbers off.
The new arrival slips into "Bruiser's" empty seat ad eyes the two of them. Damon knows he shouldn't be so trusting, but there is something familiar about this man. He is willing to put himself in the line of fire to help them, complete strangers, his eyes suggest that he never compromises and his professional but worn tone suggest that he has seen many campaigns even though his facial hair suggests that he has been here for a while.
"So who are you lot?" he finally asks in a clearly distinguish English accent.
Damon locks eyes with Ash and somehow they pass a secret message towards each other. There is just a feeling that this man, this person, could be the one they are looking for.
Finally making up his mind, Damon clears his throat before looking at the man and says, "We're friend of Riley."
The man's eyes widen and Damon thought he could see pain and even a tear in the person's eyes but they are suddenly filled with anger and weariness. He then looks at Damon's arm; the left arm in particular that bears the stars and stripes.
"You're Americans," he growls in a hostile voice, saying it more as a statement rather than a question.
Before Damon could explain the person rises to leave but Damon grabs his hand and says, "I don't know what you have against us-"
"Plenty," retorts the guy as he wriggles his wrist out of Damon's hand, "I don't suppose you even know who Riley is, do you?"
"Well…not exactly," Ash admits.
The man rolls his eyes before speaking, "Who was that guy, that President of yours? Kennedy right? He once said 'A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers'" he snorts, "true words those are, and believe me, the heroes who you honor and the terrorists you spit upon is all mixed up."
"Then tell us," Damon pleads, "we just need a moment of your time."
The man glares at them for a few more seconds before finally sitting down with his arms cross.
Damon sighs in relief before holding out his hand, "Damon Joyce."
The man eyes the hand briefly before reaching out and grasp Damon with a vise like grip as he says, "John Price."
Sorry it's been a while since I last updated this, I don't mean to leave this on a cliffhanger but I just feel this is a good spot to stop for now, Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.