"…H-Hello? I-Is someone there?"
"…runawayfarawaysofartheycan'tfollow…"
"Who's there?"
"-ohgodthechainsthechainstheyalwaysholdmegottarunawaynottheneedles notagainpleasegodnowhyWHYnoNONoNonOnOhelpmeplease-"
"What in the world…oh my god."
"-ithurtsmakeitstopburningthemaskthemaskwhyareyoudoingthisstopstopstop-"
"Victor, this is Swift! Get an air ambulance out here NOW!"
"-whyareyoudoingthiswhymenomoreIwon'thelphyouIwon'tyouhearme?! stopitstopitstopitstopitSTOPITlo-lo-losingmyselfhehehehecan'tholdme! nothingonearthcanhahahahehehehehhahahHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!"
-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-
The bar of the Maxwell Scar Base's Social Area was quiet as this time of night, the midnight blue sky outside betraying the lateness of the hour. Rachel cast her eyes around the room, taking in once more the reddish-brown mahogany furniture, the dark black leather upholstery crawling over it like obsidian skin. Her brown eyes roved further afield, looking out a nearby window at the dark sky outside, noting the clear, pale radiance of the full moon set against the dark tapestry of the sky. A turn of the head to the right placed the wall clock in the way of her gaze, the glowing red digital display telling her it was ten minutes past eleven. She'd been working on the battleplans for their attack on a nearby peninsula for the last five hours, while the other COs either trained on the War Room System or had already left to oversee the final phases of the construction of their staging base.
She was seated at the bar itself, nursing a pounding headache that was a symptom of her line of work. Rather than take the option that some of the older COs did and drink alcohol, Rachel combated the assault on her head with mineral water and paracetamol. She didn't trust drink; it made her giggly and talkative. A little too talkative, sometimes; being the leader of the Omega Land division of the Allied Nations, she couldn't risk blurting out secrets…or her real feelings concerning a few people. Her head resting on her right hand, the other hand running a slender finger around the rim of the glass she was drinking from, she sighed. The barman, seemingly busy cleaning a glass, glanced sideways at her, his ice blue eyes impassive.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he said, setting the glass and dishcloth down and taking a seat across the bar from her. Rachel looked up at him, her expression tired and wan.
"Thoughts? Right now my brain hurts so much there's not much room left for thinking," she groaned. "You've got it easy, y'know? You just run the bar here; I have to run the Allied Nations."
The barman smirked, taking off his silver-rimmed glasses and polishing them with his blue jacket. "That's quite an interesting view, actually…"
Rachel raised an eyebrow curiously. "And what do you mean by that?" she asked. The barman looked from left to right, his expression becoming more serious, before he spoke in a low voice.
"Has Sonja ever told you about the information brokers she consults?" he murmured, eyes constantly moving to check nobody was watching them or listening in. Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yes, she has…" she said, staring at him shrewdly. "When her own intel fails, which isn't that often, yes, she uses them. Phantoon, Adjutant, people like that. Hackers, people who buy, sell, and deal in information."
The barman smiled, tucking back his black hair behind his ears. "Did she ever tell you of a very special one she often corresponds with?" Rachel looked at him weirdly.
"Y-Yeah, one called-"
"The Watcher?" the barman said, his smile ever-present. Rachel's confusion deepened.
"How did you know that?" she said. "It's classified, I'm the only person who knows she corresponds with these people, and you're…just a…barman," she continued, her voice trailing off as a thought hit her. She stared at the barman incredulously.
"Oh, no way."
The barman simply grinned. "What way?"
"Don't play dumb with me," Rachel growled, her headache throbbing back into her mind. "Spit it out. You're the Watcher, aren't you?"
He bowed. "At your service, madam. A rather roundabout way of coming to the truth, but nonetheless, wholly appreciated." He intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them, elbows planted on the bar. "Now, you're going to ask why a simple hacker-slash-information peddler is here posing as a barman. I agree, it is quite suspicious, isn't it?"
Rachel groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is getting weirder and weirder. I swear you're reading my mind, that's exactly what I was gonna ask. Do me a favour and answer before I call the guards."
"That wouldn't be wise," the Watcher said, his smile never leaving his face. "I don't wish to make a scene, so I'll answer speedily and completely. Answer part one: I'm much, much more than a simple hacker. Answer part two: Being a barman in so many different places lets me keep tabs on things on all sides of these troubling events. The guy staffing the admin office here on base, a barman, a member of the Red Mesan Army technical staff…so many angles, so much information." He chuckled at Rachel's sheer bewilderment, disappearing into the storeroom behind the bar, emerging out of the staff door on Rachel's left seconds later. She glared at him.
"You're not making any sense," she said. The Watcher simply shrugged.
"That's the drawback of my…unique viewpoint," he said. "I can be cryptic as hell without realising it. Now," he said briskly, offering Rachel a hand, "I have some very interesting information for you and Sonja." Rachel looked suspiciously at him, the distrust etched on her face. The Watcher smiled sympathetically.
"Look, I know this is all a bit sudden, and you probably trust me less than you'd trust Andy with a pair of scissors, but considering I've been here all this time, I would've betrayed you by now. I'm on your side." He offered his hand again. "Trust me, what I have to show you will help your upcoming battle on the Watt Peninsula greatly."
Rachel sighed in defeat, getting off the barstool and moving past the Watcher. "I don't know how you convinced me, but alright. Let's go find Sonja." As he followed Rachel out of the Social Area, he pumped his fist in victory. Rachel sighed.
"I don't know why I'm doing this…"
"It's alright, you can say it. It's because I'm awesome."
WHAP!
"Ow! Hey, no hitting the Watcher!"
-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-
In a generic room, in a nondescript bunker, in a barren area of Red Mesa, a man saluted Cougar.
This man was an exceptional specimen of humanity, easily matching Cougar's impressive height, if not exceeding it. He was also extremely well built, the equal of any bodybuilder, and exuded a sense of incredible presence and power. With slate grey eyes and black hair shaved to within an inch of his scalp, he was every other inch a military man, decked out in clothing as casual as he was comfortable with. His skin was ghostly pale, and there was a slight shakiness to his movements that belied recent physical trauma. Cougar saw this, and while he didn't comment, he knew why the man was acting like this. For this was Amber Dawn, Red Mesa's most secret military installation, and it housed a project that was both its greatest triumph and greatest shame.
Cougar shook the man's hand, noting the dark circles under his eyes. "Late night?" he asked. The man smiled grimly and shook his head.
"Can't sleep. Harrison says that we won't be able to for some time, while our brains sort themselves out and try to get a grip on the…changes. Sorry in advance if I accidentally break anything; we've been causing havoc here, we don't know our own strength."
Cougar nodded, his mouth a grim line as he ran a hand through his hair. "How long ago was it?" he said.
"Three days ago," the man replied. "I sent a message to Victor yesterday, that being two days after the ops, after we'd taken stock of the situation as it stands." He exhaled and looked out of the observation window behind him, hands clasped behind his back. "Adjunct and Larsen are recovering the fastest. From the one hundred of us that entered the program, only twenty-two of us have gotten this far. We lost Kindjal, Wilkes, Sylan, and Neon during the enhancement process, to name but a few." He shook his head, trying to find the words he was searching for and failing. "It's…it's tough."
Cougar nodded, his face a mask of sympathy. "Lancer, tell the rest of the Cobras that you're getting a week's holiday on top of the rest period. Something tells me that what everyone needs is more time."
Lancer saluted, a smile barely creeping onto his face. "Thank you Sir. I'll tell the rest of the squad." He turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Cougar's eyes lingered on it for a few seconds more, then turned to the desk he was stood at, picking up the phone from the receiver sitting there.
"Time to make a call."
-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-
"So you're saying you're the Watcher I've been using for the past two years, that you're also posing as a barman here, and you've got vital information for us?" Sonja said, her face a perfect example of doubt as herself, the Watcher, and Rachel marched along a corridor in the Intelligence Operations Block of the Maxwell Scar base. The Watcher grinned.
"That's exactly what I'm saying!" He said brightly. "And once we get to a room with proper radio interception equipment, I can show you something."
"That something being a Red Mesan transmission?" Sonja asked shrewdly.
"Right again, Princess," the Watcher said, beaming. "Now, tell me the obvious problems with that."
"Well, for one, you have no idea when this transmission is happening," Sonja said, swerving round a soldier who was patrolling the block, jogging to catch up to Rachel and the Watcher. "The second problem is that their stealth technology means we can barely get anything with our equipment; trust me, we've tried." She ducked off the beaten path of the corridor into a room marked 'Radio Room F', Rachel and the Watcher following her, the latter hitting a light switch to illuminate the dark, boxy room. Rachel and the Watcher sat, Sonja switching on various radio communications devices sitting on desks placed against the walls. Having finished setting up the equipment, Sonja turned to the Watcher, a stern look on her face.
"So, how do you suggest we solve these problems?" she asked coldly. "The only reason I'm not putting you under military arrest right now is because of our working relationship, so explain." Rachel looked from Sonja to the Watcher, the Yellow Cometan's stare contrasting sharply with the young man's peaceful expression.
"Receiver booster turned on?" he asked, nodding to a bank of equipment. Sonja followed his gaze to the device, and nodded. "Right. Boost the sensitivity to one thousand percent above normal operating levels." Sonja's eyes narrowed.
"If I do that, we'll pick up everything within five hundred miles, save Red Mesan stealthed comms," she said shortly. She was ready to continue, but the Watcher was already on his feet and in front of the console. "Wha-"
"Right, sensitivity thousand times normal levels," he murmured, almost to himself. "Sonja, don't doubt me. Narrow the listening range to three-point-zero-five-two-six megahertz to three-point-zero-five-two-seven megahertz. Specialise for single sideband voice." Sonja hesitated, her expression unreadable, but moved to a device and began making the adjustments. Rachel was extremely confused. The Watcher was barely out of his teenage years, but it was as if he'd been working with radio communications for at least a decade. Something just didn't add up.
"Range narrowed and specialised," Sonja said, working the controls expertly. "Dial to your left, connected to the speakers. Turn it up." She honestly didn't know if she should believe the Watcher, but he was so sure of himself…so sure that he made everyone around him just that little bit more doubtful. The Watcher turned up the dial, the irregular hiss of static spilling into the room from the wall-mounted speakers.
"Even with the sensitivity up, and the range narrowed and specialised, this is all we'll get," Sonja said, turning to the Watcher. "Red Mesan comms - if this is the band they use - are just too well-hidden by their stealth technology. Any bright ideas?"
"Just one…" the Watcher said, a knowing smile on his face. He produced a small device from his jacket, a metal cube covered in ports and plugs. "Personally designed and built by yours truly," he said, attaching it to his console. "Dynamic signal scrambler and decoder. Should give us the processor power we need to constantly alter the frequencies we listen to keep up with the shifting patterns of their shrouding technology." He fell silent as he typed away on the cube's miniscule keypad, before setting it down. "That should be able to compensate for their shrouding patterns…we should get a transmission right about…now." Rachel was about to speak, but fell silent when words came through the speakers.
"Amber Dawn broadcastin'. Commander Cougar hailin' General Shade. Do you copy?" The voice was gruff and strong, unmistakably that of Cougar's. Sonja and Rachel looked at each other, their expressions of shock melting into triumphant smiles.
"Watt City Military Comms Centre receiving. Shade here." This voice was almost clinical, very controlled and precise, a slight coldness seeping into the words spoken. Sonja immediately hit the recording button to get samples of Shade's voice, knowing they may come in useful. Rachel was still listening intently, trying to pin down the accent. It was odd, with hints of both Northern Orange Star and Black Hole's Black Latin tongue in it.
"Just been to check up on th' Cobras, Boss. Lancer seems okay, but they're still reelin' from the operations."
"Are they combat ready yet?"
"Negative, Boss. The enhancements only took place three days ago. Over seventy-five percent of th' squad is dead; thirty-five percent of those were losses from the operations alone. Of the one hundred original Cobras that entered the program, only twenty-two made it to the end."
"…Damn. My apologies; I've had trouble getting the date right since my…accident at Essen City. I still haven't thanked you for taking command of that battle after the Allies incapacitated me."
The Watcher smirked as Sonja and Rachel visibly tensed at that remark; Shade had inadvertently hit a nerve of guilt within his listeners.
"Don't worry about it, Boss. Was more worried about you. Anyway, you said you had somethin' to discuss with me?"
"Yes. The Allies are planning an attack on the Watt Peninsula. Watt City, my current location, is our main coordination centre for Red Mesan fleet operations; if we lose the peninsula, we'll be hard pressed to stop a naval attack launched upon our coastal territory."
"Isn't Swift going to be handling the defence there?"
"Correct. The Allied have constructed a forward outpost on an island seven miles away from the Peninsula; air battles will feature heavily in the conflict, and Tatania's expertise will be needed."
"So…why're you calling me about it?"
"Because I want a pre-emptive strike against the outpost within four hours."
Rachel gasped; an attack in four hours' time? It was about half eleven now; a strike at half three in the morning would catch all the people at that outpost sleeping. It would be a massacre.
"A strike? With all due respect Boss, even we can't organise an attack that quickly."
"That's why I'm going to be sending a covert unit in. I don't want to cause any damage to the base itself; I just want access to their data network."
"You wan' Allied data? On what?"
"Everything. Force deployment, weapons research, the location of their main base here in the Lynx Desert, CO dossiers."
"That's ambitious, Boss, but what the hell, let's give it a shot. Whaddya need?"
"We can't use the Cobras, so we'll get the next best thing. Get some of the Vipers; maybe Red Team. Get us a dropship too. I want them at Watt City, on station and ready to go within three hours, that leaves me enough time for a briefing."
"Roger that, I'll do my best. Anything else?"
"…I'll be going with them."
"What?!" cried Rachel and Sonja, looking at the speakers unbelievingly. What the hell was this guy thinking, sending himself into battle like this?
"What?!" Obviously, Cougar was thinking the same thing.
"I want to observe the operation in person," Shade said, completely unperturbed. "It's been far too long since I was on the ground with my men. There is also several pieces of data on their network that I want. OMI hackers have been able to pinpoint them for me, but they need to be extracted via an actual Allied computer, thanks to some rather strong encryption. None of the Vipers would be able to do it."
"Why not send in a team of these OMI hackers then? Would save puttin' ya in needless danger."
"…I don't want any body save myself to see that data." Shade's voice was low and firm. "It relates to several…sensitive subjects about me. Things that I need to know."
The speakers were silent for a few seconds, before Cougar sighed.
"Alright Boss, go ahead. But you better be damn well careful. If something happened to you…"
"I'll be careful."
"Be extra careful. You still haven't recovered fully, your CO skills aren't at peak strength. You can't go around hurling lightning bolts like Zeus himself, dammit."
"Yes Mother…" Shade said. "Shade out."
The speakers fell silent, and the Watcher looked at Rachel and Sonja, smiling at their sheer surprise.
"What are you two waiting for?" he said, rising to his feet, detaching his cubic device from the console, and pocketing it. "Let's go bag us a Red Mesan General!"
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