Chapter 1: Enemies are Vicious
Chapter Text
Quick to recollect himself from the horror, Geumsaegi turned to stare at the leaders of the Wolf Unit as if in disbelief. He took a moment to blink, slowly, as if coming to a realization. “Wait. You would pump poisonous gas into the facility’s hallways where YOUR OWN TROOPS ARE?”
If I can get them to turn off the gas immediately, then the scouts should recover quickly enough to hide.
Assistant Jogjebi shifted, as if uncomfortable with the idea of leaving his own soldiers to die, and then straightened as he remembered that the victims would be wolves and not other weasels. Commander Seungnyangi blinked, as if considering the idea that allowing other wolves under his command to die would be a bad idea for his leadership.
Officer Yeou quickly waved him off, moving forward towards the disguised squirrel, “and if there are scouts from Flower Hill that somehow made their way into the torture chamber, not that we would be able to tell from any cameras on the off chance it is a disguise, then they will pass out and die. The problem is very easily solved, except for figuring out how they managed to get into the facility in the first place.” She eyed Geumsaegi with thought. If he demands I turn off the gas, and save any scouts that may be in there, then he is definitely suspicions. If I refuse, he might even confess…
Geumsaegi took a step forward, stretching up to intimidate. “Those doors are open until closed from the outside. If you turned the poisonous gas on, without closing the door, then would the gas not flow out into these very halls? Do you even know what the gas smells like in order to locate it? What if it gets into the ventilation system and spreads to the other buildings?” Officer Yeou paused, disconcerted by the aggression, while Mulmangcho at least had the decency to appear alarmed. No one considered that it was odd that the liaison knew about the interconnected ventilation systems. Movement flickered in the corner of Geumsaegi’s eye. Perfect.
The golden squirrel whipped around, pointing. Oegwipali had moved slightly to try and drag the unconscious Dr. Dudeoji away, while Mulmangcho had taken a few steps back as well. If the poison in the torture chamber had a smell, it was likely that the mice would sense it flowing into the hallway, even before the wolves. Of course, it depended on the type of poison and how fast it was being pumped out, as well as its density. “Where are you going? Are you trying to run off with him back to Flower Hill?”
I have to rescue my comrades quickly! If the door to the cell is open, they at least have a little bit of time for me to do something! If the Wolf Unit has the capabilities for gas, then they must have respirators around.
Mulmangcho growled, balling his paws into fists, frantically looking between Officer Yeou and the unmoving mole at his feet. “Turn that gas off you idiots! We might be fine for a bit, but with Dr. Dudeoji’s condition, one trace of the gas and he may not recover for further questioning! And besides, we can't question the scouts if they are dead!”
Commander Seungnyangi’s ears titled back as he stomped his cane, eyes flashing blue while he prepared to speak, barring his teeth. Excited as if he had been given a revelation, he glared between Geumsaegi and Mulmangcho. Slowly, he began to point at them both, as if to give an order of execution or action.
A sudden explosion rocked the anti-espionage facility, dislodging large debris from the ceiling that crashed onto the floor, leaving large cracks and dents. Screams of shock and fear echoed from further into the facility, from others who had been caught in the brunt of the blast. The remote device Officer Yeou had been holding shattered on the floor as she fell, Commander Seungnyangi landing next to her, while Geumsaegi barely managed to keep his own balance without moving his tail too much like a squirrel.
She won’t be able to turn off the gas if the device is broken! He had to get away from the group and find the scouts himself, before it was too late.
Assistant Jogjebi attempted to help the wolf commander to his feet, only for his hand to be swatted away with a snap of teeth. “What is going on?”
“The gas must have ignited a spark in one of the boiler rooms and caused an explosion!” A wolf yelled from down the hallway, quickly joining his more frantic kin in trying to find an exit to the facility that was not blocked off.
“You are using poison gas that ignites? What if the other boilers explo-” Geumsaegi was cut off by another detonation, larger this time. Quickly, he managed to dodge what appeared to be a falling rock, only for a smaller piece hidden behind it to find its mark on his helmet, forcing a gasp. For a moment, he kneeled on the ground, stunned, listening to the cracking sounds around himself and his vision briefly turned to static.
“Special Aide!” Snapping back to reality, the squirrel looked up in time to see Assistant Jogjebi pointing at him, attempting to warn him of something, but reluctant to offer a hand himself.
The floor crackled under the impacts of more rubble, and the squirrel lunged forward, half to escape and half to grab Mulmangcho, wrestle him to the ground to prevent him from escaping. In front of him, part of the wall gave way, exposing pipes and wiring, and spraying a plume of fire into the hallway, separating the mice and mole from the rest of the group.
Further stunned by the sudden burning heat, Geumsaegi was forced to step backwards. The buckling floor finally gave way beneath him, sending the disguised mouse plunging into the darkness below.
Deftly, through instinct alone, Geumsaegi caught himself on some rebar before he hit the ground, quickly moving out of sight of the hole above him as the sudden movement briefly made his head spin. My comrades don’t have much time! Three of his dearest friends were possibly counting on him to save them. He had to find his way through the tunnels. Find respirators, deliver them.
Is the poison gas the kind that drifts towards the ceiling, or settles close to the ground? If it is a torture chamber, and they want the victims alive, then surely, they would not have the poison settle where their prisoner could collapse. The gas could still be used to turn the area into an execution chamber, which would possibly require denser gas to settle on the ground, preventing a victim from laying down to rest, depending on the amount. That sounded like something the wolves would do. They would not even have the civilized decency to slip the prisoners a drugged last meal before their execution, so they would not be awake to feel the terror.
Too bad he was technically not supposed to be in the anti-espionage facility in the first place, in order to find out. He could not have even known about the gas to begin with, let alone ask what kind it was or how it was dispensed.
At the end of the tunnel, he found an underground river, possibly diverted from elsewhere, with a grated door serving as a barrier. Several types of boats and collections of crates littered the area, with Geumsaegi noting a very familiar dolphin submarine anchored nearby, having been confiscated weeks previously from Bamsaegi and Murori. If this was a supply depot, it was a question for later, since if there was a river and boats, then surely there had to be oxygen tanks. And if there were oxygen tanks, then perhaps a few of them had already been filled. He would have preferred a proper gas mask, but he did not know where those were stored, or if he could find any before being found himself. From what he recalled, at least, the mice had been cut off from the wolves, so it was not as if they could talk together if everyone was fleeing the explosions. If Mulmangcho and Oegwipali tried to run off with Dr. Dudeoji, it could easily be misconstrued as extracting him at the order of Flower Hill. And that even assumed it had been the real mole lying on the ground behind them, and not another look-alike playing along.
He had to find his little brother, his wild duck comrade, and the brother of his dear Scout Goseumdochi. He had to either hide them someplace, or take them to the exit so they could escape. Their mission had failed, and for Flower Hill’s sake, he could not let his own mission fail here. Not when he had finally won the trust of the wolves, something absolutely imperative for the future of his nation. If the young scouts were found in the facility, it would prove that he was the traitor they had been searching for, and Mulmangcho had been correct and loyal the entire time. No, if the scouts were dead, or too far incapacitated to recover quickly, then Geumsaegi would have to dispose of them himself. Surely, there were open flames about by now that could burn a few corpses and uniforms beyond recognition? Maybe send the bodies down the underground river if he could drag them that far?
What would I even tell Juldarami? No, he would understand.
Burning yet resolute tears at the thought of the possible task ahead forced Geumsaegi’s search of the area to become all the more difficult. He could remember Bamsaegi’s smile, lasting from his time as a growing pup, and into the last time they had had a peaceful meal together, when General Commander Jogjebi had been disposed of. He still smiles afterwards, of course, but there was something harder behind it, as if innocence was being pushed aside for understanding. On one hand, it was a massive relief that his little brother had finally come to his senses about the dangers of the world. On the other hand, there was something sad about the loss.
Playing with his little brother as a child, watching him grow up, becoming the perfect vision of a scout. He remembered the times he had gently scolded the younger squirrel with mild amusement when he would sneak off to parts unknown with Undochi, so they could get a better view of the fireworks during festivals. The memories had been tainted by a more frantic desperation when he had caught the two planning to sneak off again after the initial attack with the Weasel Army. Bamsaegi had simply smiled after the attack, saying he was fine, ignoring his healing arm in a sling. He had never thought to ask how the little squirrel had managed to get injured during the attack, not when he had been so calm about it, but the concept haunted him months later while witnessing the cruelty of the mice and weasels in the army firsthand.
And now this. He might not even be able to get to say goodbye.
It was not their fault, of course. The Wolf Unit was just far more clever than they could have expected, skilled in routing out scouts and infiltrators, and even he had made the mistake of underestimating Mulmangcho in the end.
A few markers and highlighters, some pins. A large bag of magnets? I can use these to reach a key or unlock a door.
A group of three oxygen tanks with adjustable mouthpieces, possibly belonging to Mulmangcho’s group, and a small gas mask for himself. Hopefully, these can be adjusted to fit over beaks and smaller muzzles. If the masks had been for wolves, he was sure it could have worked. He still had to find the scouts.
Even the thought of disposing of even one of the trio if he could not save them, was almost too much to bear. But he would do it, for Flower Hill, as was his duty.
The floor above had been evacuated, at the very least, but he could still hear shouting as the wolves ran around outside, attempting to find some sort of order to the chaos. The building itself would not collapse so soon, but it was unlikely to be habitable for some time. Debris forced him to climb up to the main floor, before moving to find another set of stairs to move back to where he remembered the torture chambers were.
Moving down the mostly blocked stairs, Geumsaegi noticed something small and shiny that should not have been in the area, next to the boiler room. A small cap, the same color as a Flower Hill primer for a remote bomb. So, they planted grenades as they tried to escape. Clever. So very clever. In hindsight, it made sense. If the gas was flammable enough to explode a boiler room, then surely the entirety of the gas would have ignited and turned the building into a fire pit, instead of large earth-shaking explosions? Hopefully, the fox and the wolf commander would not think of such a thing.
He could see that the timer had been set before the device was left behind. The bomb could be deactivated remotely, if the scouts managed to escape, for them to better hide their tracks. For it to go off, it meant they either had no time deactivate it, or were unable to do so. There should be more than one, if Murori decided to use it. He knew ducks. The remnants of the other grenade were found further down, in the second boiler room. More items for him to dispose of, to hide both his and the scouts’ tracks. The air in the hallways began to be tinged with green.
Finally, at long last, Geumsaegi managed to reach the torture rooms where he and Mulmangcho had been tested, pausing briefly as a shock of realization ripped through him. What if Mulmangcho was lying and this is a trap? What if they were never in here? If I get caught, I can either say I was looking for the real Dr. Dudeoji or I grabbed the tanks for myself assuming I would be trapped for a while, and so many because they were tangled. It would depend on who caught him, and what they were willing to believe.
But no, that did not matter, not anymore. Through the green tinged atmosphere, he could see the three small forms collapsed in the torture room, signs of a struggle to move and breathe on the ground. Shakily, breathing almost too fast for the protective mask to keep up, the golden squirrel knelt over his cherished comrades. They were alive, barely. Drooling and foaming at the mouth, but they were alive. Open door and collapsed walls allowed the hissing poison to spread from a pipe in the wall, Officer Yeou having not the wherewithal to turn it off through other means yet. Which was a pity for them, seeing as how some of the pipes in the anti-espionage facility appeared to lead back into the main facilities were the wolves lived. Something he could possibly use, later, as revenge for what had happened here.
The mouthpieces adjusted perfectly, the filled oxygen tanks carrying approximately three hours of clean air for them to breathe, hopefully long enough for them to come back to themselves and recover. But are their lungs destroyed for good? He still did not know what kind of poison it was, if their organs had been irreversibly destroyed, or if simple air would do the trick.
Moving them out of the room was the first priority, lest the door lock on them. It had been enough of a risk to go in there in the first place, as he had before when he was accosted by the three wolves. Across the hall, a portion of the rock wall had given way, creating an alcove. Quickly, Geumsaegi moved some debris away from the hole, burrowing into it and to the side it to make it big enough for four beings, whilst appearing smaller from the outside if anyone removed the debris from the entrance. He stashed the bodies of the unconscious young scouts inside.
In the torture room, any stray feathers from Murori were rounded up, same with loose quills from Undochi. If Bamsaegi had lost any tufts of fur, he could not tell, not with how thick his tail was. The marks on the ground could be explained as part of the ruckus from the other day, or from other victims.
Then, there was the problem with the message, where Mulmangcho had drawn on Lily Bells to confuse the inexperienced scouts. Clever bastard. Well met. I need to kill him as soon as possible!
But he did not have time to ruminate, or fully explain. Soon, the wolves would come into the facility to look for survivors or the supposed scouts.
‘Mulmangcho knows the codenames for Pangulggot. I order you to leave immediately.’ The message was short, but hopefully, they would understand. Once inside, Geumsaegi rearranged the debris to hide the hole in the wall, gently allowing his hand to caress behind round ears, sharp quills, and white feathers. Bamsaegi, Undochi, and Murori had only three hours of air, three hours to escape on their own.
“I’m sorry. I cannot help you any more than this.” It was not as if they could hear his whispered goodbyes.
He had to return to below the hole in the floor, and hope that they wolves had yet to traverse the area to find him. Geumsaegi moved down the hallways, making sure the cameras were still dead from the explosions taking out their electrical connections, and checking around corners to make sure there was nobody about to walk down the hall. It was difficult with the bodies on the ground, claws having scratched into the dirt as they breathed in too much of the surrounding smoke and traces of poison gas. His trek was abruptly halted by the discovery of the secretary and file storage room.
Perfect. There should be some information on emergency measures there, on where to keep prisoners if both the prison and Anti-Espionage facility were compromised. If I can find that document, then I should be able to figure out where they will be moving Dr. Dudeoji next, assuming he survived the gas and explosions.
Geumsaegi knew how to search quickly, having been taught to open filing cabinets from the bottom drawer first. The problem was the number of cabinets in the room. But, surely, the most important information would be in the locked cabinets, rather than the unlocked cabinets?
The locks were difficult. Doable, with the number of pins he had found in the cavern, but still doable. But also taking up far too much time. At least until a glint from the lights illuminated the key ring, with the keys numbered to each filing cabinet.
His hunch on the locked cabinets was proven correct. The layout for the Wolf Unit base, files on the numbers of current and available forces, detection equipment in each area, records on current available weaponry and what could be shipped in. Anyone with military experience could be able to extrapolate on how to create a war of attrition with this data, if they had the time. Quickly, he removed a small hidden box, taking out the microfilm camera that he had placed next to the listening bug he had used on the Chief of Staff’s table. While the filing cabinets contained information for every Wolf Unit base around the globe, he was only interested in the files for Flower Hill. That came first. Taking pictures of all of them would waste too much time, and other countries could probably send in their own scouts to get the same information, if they had any competent enough to do so. They were not his problem.
As he suspected, a smaller red cabinet held the emergency plans. Ignoring the medical and evacuation routes, he finally found the files on where important prisoners would be held if the anti-espionage facility was too demolished. Prisoners would be moved into the command center, and stored in some makeshift rooms, possibly closets close to Commander Seungnyangi’s office, with other, less important prisoners, to be executed immediately or stored in other closets on base if needed alive.
Can I get this microfilm to where I hid the others in time? Crashing from down the hallway answered no, as the first force of wolves were sent to inspect the torture rooms.
“Get these damn rocks off of me right now!” Behind the gas masks, the wolves paused in surprise, and then laughed at the relatively tiny liaison with his leg trapped under the rock. Yipping, they lifted the boulder with ease, electing to throw the debris down the corridor as far as they could, more boulders following suit in a form of unwarranted competition that threatened to destabilize some of the walls.
It had been tantamount to the Wolf Unit’s incompetency that led to them taking another two hours to finally make their way into what remained of the Anti-Espionage facility, long after Geusmaegi had used a makeshift fulcrum to trap his own leg to provide an alibi. If he had known, he might have stayed longer in the little alcove, striving to wake up and reunite with his companions. Although, under the circumstances, he was not surprised when the wolves grabbed him, climbing a rope back to the top of the hole. Nor was he surprised when he was promptly dropped on solid ground with the wolves surrounding him.
Now I have to explain myself to Commander Seungnyangi. What has Mulmangcho managed to tell him while I was gone? Even if the scouts were not found, it had been hours for them to possibly be alone, for the glasses wearing mouse to plead his case as he usually did to squirm his way out of danger.
A wolf’s eyes flashed blue with malicious mirth. “Commander Seungnyangi wants to see you.”
“Of course he would! Take me to him right this instant!” He snapped, then paused, coughing from the dust. Or at least he hoped it was the dust, considering he had discredited Dr. Huinjogjebi by surmising his brain was addled by breathing in poison gases. It could just as easily be turned onto him. The throbbing in his head increased.
His body was warm, almost uncomfortably so, and much of it was focused around his chest and throat area. Bamsaegi twitched, slightly, feeling as if he was coming out of an unnatural sleep, his head floating pleasantly and away from him. Had he been sick? Was that why he was so hot, and his lungs felt as if they were burning up and scratchy? The brown squirrel moved to paw at his face, fingers hitting an unknown barrier covering his nose and mouth. He moved to take it off.
Instantly, a hand stopped him, familiar, feathered. Bamsaegi opened his eyes in surprise, head latching itself back into reality, registering Murori hovering over him, wing partially gripping his throat to cut off any noise he might make. Undochi sat slumped across from him, head hanging as he breathed quietly, fingering a quill blade and Geumsaegi’s message as he drooled and foamed. Angry voices of wolves echoed from outside their hiding spot.
“There is no one in here after all! The mouse was lying!”
“Well, something had to have blown up the corridors!”
“The gas hit the boiler room, and the stuff was fallible, I hear.”
“That’s flammable, dumb-ass!”
Murori’s expression was clear. Stupid wolves. If the gas was that flammable, we would all have burned to death immediately. They could still see traces of it in the air.
They had to be quiet. All three of them were somewhat foaming at the mouth, sightly filling the lifesaving masks, but there did not appear to be any blood in the foam. Furthermore, they were no longer coughing or gagging, or making any noise that would attract attention even through the irritating yet pleasing pressure in the lungs. The gas also appeared to suppress the vocal cords. An opioid, maybe? That could explain the foaming and the cough suppression, as well as the fast recovery and dreamy sensation. But why would that be pumped into in a prison cell? Not that Bamsaegi could identify every poison, especially not in this environment. Whatever it had done to their lungs needed to get checked out at Unhasu, the commander center in Cherry Valley, as soon as possible.
Of course, Mulmangcho would know the codenames. That makes perfect sense. Next time, brother and I will have to come up with our own secret codes beforehand that no one else would know. He was immensely grateful that his brother had done what he could to help them out, after they had botched the mission with their own inexperience, causing him so much trouble.
Strangely, it was not hard to move. Maybe even a bit too fluid, too easy to sneak around the wolves wandering the halls. Together with the gas, the masks somewhat obscured the vision of the enemy, preventing them from seeing the smaller shadows in the dark, not that they were looking. But their own respirators and oxygen tanks also blocked their own vision, leveling the playing field. Once outside, they managed to hide behind some more debris in the shadows.
It was imperative to leave. The mission had been more or less a failure since the moment they had tried to entire the area using a smokescreen of clouds. There should still be some cut fences on the other end of the compound, near the headquarters. Undochi and Murori appeared to remember the area as well, glancing in the same direction and nodding, gesturing the ideas.
Slowly, bush by bush, rock by rock, the trio moved towards the other side of the compound, towards the exit, towards extraction. Once there, away from the bulk of the wolves and individuals searching for them, they could figure out how to continue to get back to Flower Hill without the use of their hang gliders.
The trio arrived too late, yet just in time to watch a wolf finish repairing the area, drawing a double layer of barbed wire across the previously opened hole. Time to find another way out.
A wolf turned in their direction.
The wolf soldier blinked, and then blinked again. He was not imagining it, not tired enough to make up the shining brightness in his eyes. There was something glinting in the patch of grass near the command center, throwing light into his eyes, and it should not be doing that. He stared, starting to crouch. The grass rustled.
He moved, sprinting on all fours to the offending area, barking a half alert, other wolves in the area pausing and glancing at him. The wolf pulled up, only to find a handful of oxygen tanks in the grass, clearly discarded by whatever soldiers decided they were far enough away from the flowing gas that they no longer needed specialty tanks. Then again, they did appear to be almost out of air in the tanks, making them worthless anyway.
But an absolute blast to try and crush against his head. Who the hell cared if the passing weasel muttered about wastefulness?
With the sudden mass of patrols, the lack of escape route, and all the wolves amassing outside, the Wolf Unit command center was the only place to escape to. They would still have to find a place to hide, escape the Wolf Unit compound entirely. In hindsight, the fact that Geumsaegi had left them with water gear suggested that he wanted them to leave through the river, not the cut fence at the other end of the compound. If the gas was affecting that part of their decision making, then they might be in more dire straits than they thought.
The first few hallways were empty as they tried to find an exit door that was not alarmed, or did not peek out into another group of wolves searching the compound. But their luck ran out, as large stomping footsteps came from all directions, cutting off escape from all but a few rooms.
The three nodded at each other, darting into one of the closer rooms, choosing to hide under a large desk.
The choice was incorrect, as several wolves immediately filed into the room and surrounded their hiding spot, muttering angrily.
Geumsaegi did not have to pretend to stagger as he slipped into Commander Seungnyangi’s office, enraged and panting wolf flanked on either side by the fawning Officer Yeou and stoic Assistant Jogjebi.
The wolves could not see, but from a squirrel’s height and line of vision, Bamsaegi, Undochi, and Murori had awakened and emerged from their sanctuary. They were underneath the desk, stiff in horror, Undochi pressed against the side of the desk to avoid pricking the occupants with his spines, but none of the taller occupants of the room appeared to take any notice.
What are you doing? I told you to leave! As long as he did not react to their presence, perhaps it would be fine. Maybe he could even slip them the roll of microfilm, somehow. But if Mulmangcho was free, and walked into the room, or any other mouse, they would be at the perfect height to also see the Flower Hill scouts. Or, if someone bent over, or coughed in the wrong direction. It was a tricky situation. Even if I tried to create a distraction, any movement in that direction would be noticed. How can I get this information to Bamsaegi?
Commander Seungnyangi sighed in desperation, leaning back to rest his leg before he had to go out back outside and yell at the disorganized and hunting wolves, the Unit’s nerves strung high from the day’s excitement and the occasional collapse from breathing in too much poisonous gas.
“Today has been quite a disaster.” The wolf stated calmly. Officer Yeou continued to rub his shoulders, attempting to relax her superior.
“And here we are sitting around? I know there are some pipes the lead between here and the Anti-Espionage facility! Did you manage to turn off the gas? What if too many of your men get poisoned? How will we meet up with the Weasel Unit and defeat Flower Hill then?” Geumsaegi slipped into his angry persona, voice slightly higher from the danger to his countrymen, so close but yet so far.
Officer Yeou appeared very uncomfortable, tugging at her tail and slightly looking to the side. “The gas will run out in a few hours, there is no way to shut it off without the remote, not without going in there physically to remove the canister. It should dissipate in a few days,” she finished with a huff.
“Why would you design a poisonous gas release that could only be controlled by remote, and then not even have a backup? And what happened to Dr. Dudeoji? Did Mulmangcho manage to rescue him?” No one had mentioned both glasses wearing individuals, which meant it was likely his own cover had not been blown.
The wolf commander’s head jerked up, eyes narrowing. Such an annoyance, having mice around, even if this one does have a spine. If I did not need him to get a hold of the Iron Crow, I would delight in reminding him of his place…He took a deep breath. “Mulmangcho and his brother could not carry our guest out on their own, so he will be moved into the third holding cell tomorrow.” If he asks where the third holding cell is, then it is likely the liaison is a scout for Flower Hill.
Geumsaegi paused. He may want me to ask where the next holding cell will be. But that would be too suspicious. Besides, I already know the protocol from the secretary’s office. Maybe I can lure everyone away from here using that. If he could not get the microfilm over to his brother, he would have to find another way, much later.
“I trust that you have a way to keep that place secure. Surely, Mulmangcho is getting desperate by now to complete his rescue mission.”
“Hrmm, we will see about that.” The wolf muttered. “And where have you been all this time?”
“Mousey here got stuck under a rock he could not lift off of himself!” The wolves began to cackle. Geumsaegi pretended to glare, keeping his foot off the ground as if it was bruised.
The fox vixen moved forward, brushing her fingertips over the top of his helmet. “Mayhap you would like to rest for a bit, especially after being hit over the head by a rock earlier?”
“I cannot rest just yet! Mulmangcho is still out there, waiting for another chance to strike in this chaos, and I am here to arrest them! can you think of anywhere he may have gone, anywhere he may be looking for a way to escape?” The disguised squirrel snarled.
One of the smarter wolves, a guard for the anti-espionage facility raised his tail slightly. “Sir…if you fell through the floor, did you land near the water passageway?”
Geumsaegi raised an eyebrow, paw moving under his chin in pretend thought. “It was dark, but maybe I did hear water…”
Commander Seungnyangi shook his head, “the passage is blocked, and the only way to open it is to hold down a button at the bottom of the channel. There are only four oxygen tanks there, and none of them would fit the mole.”
Good to know. Geumsaegi spared a glance downwards. Surely, Murori would be able to swim down and reach the button.
A cough was heard from the hallway. Geumsaegi spared a glance towards the hallway, briefly catching sight of a distraction outside the window.
“We need to go back, right now, and turn off of the gas.”
“Why are you so insistent on getting us to go back to the Anti-Espionage facility?” The wolf was excited, leaning forward slightly.
“…can you not smell that odor coming through the vents?” Geumsaegi turned, making towards the door. If I can lead them back to the facility, then the waterways will be a good way to escape.
The wolves in the room paused, sniffing. “Aren’t the pipes in that facility connected to here?” one asked, having clearly not listened to Geumsaegi’s explanation earlier.
“Do you not see the green gas COMING UP FROM THE VENTS?” he pointed, angrily at the window, wispy jade-colored smoke raising from a hole in a pipe leading into the building. Officer Yeou glanced down at the older wolf in confusion, tilting her head. The other wolves looked over, exclaiming over the rising gas, noticing the hues beginning to form in the hallways. Commander Seungnyangi appeared horrified, frozen in place.
There was a rush towards the door.
Through the gas masks, the group could see the wolves closer to the remains of the anti-espionage facility were having trouble. Barely able to stand if they were not also wearing masks, they staggered, giggling as if drunk. Others simply lay on the ground, looking at everything and nothing. Geumsaegi did not bother to move or call out for the few who stared directly towards the sun. Let them go blind, they deserve it.
One of the wolves tripped over a clump of grass, and then came to rest next to a bush. That’s suspicious…
The disguised squirrel moved, bending over the fallen wolf. Intoxicated. He looked up, noticing the other wolves near the wall, quickly taking turns opening the remains of the door and taking deep breaths. Are they getting some sort of narcotic high off of the gas? What kind is it?
Inside, as the group turned to move towards the torture room, Geumsaegi leaned over another wolf, inspecting it. Quietly, he handed over the microfilm to Bamsaegi, who then slipped in through the hole in the floor leading towards the river. “So close to the door, and he kneels over dead,” he muttered, just loudly enough for the wolves to hear.
“It inhibits brain function,” the fox said simply, attempting to move faster in her impractical skirt. The commander lagged behind, slower with his bad leg, not used to more strenuous mental and physical tasks.
As the other wolves stirred to assist in moving their fellow unconscious solders outside, the liaison, wolf commander, and officers reached the torture room. Removing a small key, Officer Yeou opened a compartment in the wall, and switched off a quarter full canister.
Geumsaegi sighed, standing at the entrance. Barring Mulmangcho’s interference, the stopping of the poison was as good a distraction as any for the scout trio to escape into the waterways.
Movement beside him, and the door to the cell slammed shut, trapping the three Wolf Unit leaders inside. Blind sighted, Mulmangcho tackled Geumsaegi, attempting to rip the mask off while preventing access to his own.
“Doing this in front of everybody in enemy territory!? Are you insane? Are you actually insane?” He yelled loud enough for the surprised occupants of the cell to hear. Undoubtedly, they had a key to unlock the cell from the inside. Going into such a place without one would be asinine, even for them.
“Yes! I have been insane ever since I first met you! You and fucking Flower Hill drive me fucking crazy! The whole word is crazy and I am insane enough to see it” The mouse bellowed, able to move slightly faster despite his partially obscured vision due to his familiarity with burrowing in dark areas.
The mouse lunged again, briefly pinning Geumsaegi to the ground and wrapping one hand around his neck, groping for a gun with the other.
“Get your traitorous hands off my pants!” It was his own mistake to not even bring a gun, after handing it back over earlier. Twisting on his back so that his shoulders braced against the ground, the squirrel managed to bend enough to kick his heels against Mulmangcho’s chest, forcing him away so he could rise to his feet. The mouse grabbed at the squirrel again, shoving him into the door, then pulling back to shove again.
The door to the cell opened as the wolf, fox, and weasel rushed out, mouse and squirrel falling in due to their momentum. The roundhouse punch to the cheek hit Geumsaegi by surprise, forcing him into the open compartment with the canister, gasping as his back hit a lever.
Officer Yeou yelled something, but the trapdoor had already opened, plunging the squirrel into the darkness below.
This works out perfectly! If I hurry, I can reunite with my brother to send him off! Oh, if I can meet with them again, I would be so glad!
He sprinted along the cavern, following the river, ignoring the growing pounding in his head. A few canisters of the poison gas floated past him, and the squirrel briefly paused to hide them behind some rocks, for later. The trio should be at the waterway by now, and if they were observant, would have found their dolphin submarine. All they had to do was push a button to open the gate.
Sadly, the reunion was not to be. Reaching the entrance of the waterway cavern, he saw the three scouts huddled in the dolphin submarine, attempting to find a way to hurriedly open the grates. In the distance, he could hear yelling as more wolves began to gather around into the cavern from the collapsed floor, a little way out of sight.
“Find the mouse liaison! The water should have carried him down that way!” Perfect timing for the enemy to actually be competent about finding him.
There was no time to look for another re-breather, if there was a secret spare other than the ones he had used. Geumsaegi managed to catch Undochi’s eye, waving before he jumped into the river, quickly swimming towards the bottom, ignoring the pounding in his head and ears. The button was not hard to find, attached to a type of water proof power strip, allowing him to press it. The grate opened, slowly. Too slowly. The dolphin submarine moved towards it, also unhurriedly.
The squirrel’s lungs began to ache, but the door was almost just wide enough to fit through. In an instant, a large rock broke the surface of the water, barreling towards Geumsaegi. He could move, but he would be forced to drop the button, perhaps allow the grate to close. That could not happen. That simply could not happen, not when they had the information that Flower Hill needed. He waited, boulder getting closer, grate slowly opening.
The underwater vehicle rushed through the opening and towards freedom, as the debris smashed into Geumsaegi. He managed to hold onto the button for a few seconds longer, before he was moved and slammed into an underwater ledge, forcing him to inhale.
Instantly, he swallowed, trying to move the mouthful of liquid out, and then coughed. No air, only more liquid, cold in the throat, turning to heat. A searing burn ripped through the squirrel’s lungs, sharp shocks splitting through his limbs as he tried to swim to the surface, to inhale. But he could not stop gasping, inhaling more water, weighing him down, depriving himself of the strength needed to surface.
His own limbs refused to move, leaving him drifting in the water, watching the grate quickly close. The agonizing burning in his chest subsided as he began to float, face upwards, limbs drifting above him. It was peaceful, in a way. His eyes began to burn instead.
Clearly, in his mind, as if experiencing it in the current time, he recalled one of the mission briefs he, Juldarami, Goseumdochi, and Murori had been put through before the start of the infiltration.
“We do wish for all of you to complete your missions smoothly.” Commander Goseumdochi explained. “However, there is always a chance that not all of you will return alive, and we would not be able to retrieve your body for a proper funeral. If you wish to back out, now is the time.” As if any of them would back out of striving to give their own lives for the sake of their beloved Flower Hill. The possibility of dying was just the way of life for a scout going into enemy territory. Giving their lives for the mission was a hero’s death.
“Sir! We will give our lives to the mission if we must!” They had said in unison, earning smiles and hugs from the commanders.
Still, during their missions, it had not stopped them from expressing their desires to return home alive, together, in defiance of the pact they had made. In the heat of battle or in more quiet, secluded areas, it was whispered, shouted, promised.
First, scout Goseumdochi had been lost, flying his plane into Bat Ilse to stop the ice cannons. It had been quick, hopefully nothing more than a brief searing across his body. The next had been Murori, also fast with an explosion, stopping an attack on home territory. Talk of including them among the local heroes celebrated in the Dano Dragon Boat festival in the spring had reached even his ears, albeit he knew that their reveal would have to wait until after the war. It would not do to reveal the existence of the concept of scouts to the enemy. They would have to remain anonymous for now.
But this slow fading was a mild annoyance, allowing him to think about his position, about how he could have done more.
A shame he would not get to see Juldarami again, but they had almost expected it when he went off alone this time, leaving the other squirrel in the hospital. Scouts were, after all, tools to protect their home of Flower Hill. A lightning rod to block the rest of the home from any danger.
My mission is complete, Unhasu. The information he had given Bamsaegi would result in the rescue of Dr. Dudeoji. Flower Hill would have enough of the codes and diagrams of the facility to properly infiltrate the base, come up with ways to destroy the army, and he had done his job well enough that the wolves had no idea.
Distantly, he wondered who would take over his position as scout. Bamsaegi, perhaps? He was a fine scout, and had learned a lot in such a short period of time. Juldarami, maybe, at least as backup. Either of them would know to kill Mulmangcho on sight if they saw him.
He was so proud of them all.
This is fine. I did my best to confound the enemies’ plans and have done my duty. I can rest now…I will leave the revenge on our enemies to my homeland…
Calmness.
A melancholy sense of peace, pressure building in his chest, forcing a few more futile gasps.
I…wait…what is…?
The golden squirrel and the brown hedgehog lay together under the magnolia tree, resting in the warm spring air. Scout Goseumdochi snuggled closer into the squirrel’s arms, then began to pull away. “It should not be time yet for us to reunite,” he whispered, as he vanished into the whirlwind of petals, which flashed as if forming a fiery explosion.
“Geumsaegi! You promised you would come back to me! We promised we would come back together!” Juldarami yelled, sprinting across the field towards his friend, clutching the messenger bag of Yul-lan chestnut cakes.
For a moment, Geumsaegi lay on the ground, paralyzed. Juldarami lifted the golden squirrel’s head, brushing his lips with the chestnut cake, begging him to take a bite. A sensation that felt so real, he could feel his own hand twitch, as if wanting to reach up. “Did we not promise to share our victories and these cakes together?”
“Geumsaegi!” Commander Darami yelled, “You have to get up!”
“You did your best. But you can still do more. Get up! You can do it!” Commander Goseumdochi, now.
Bamsaegi smiled and laughed at the picnic table in the meadow, former happiness returned, ready to embark on a journey with Dr. Dudeoji the next day. “You must hurry up! It is almost time to make dinner now!”
Happy visions of his friends and family surrounded him.
“Geumsaegi!”
“It is time to wake up!”
“Geumsaegi!”
"Brother!"
“SPECIAL AIDE!” Commander Jogjebi reached for him, cape billowing. “What are you doing? You need to take better care of your life!”
A sharp jolt ran through Geumsaegi’s body.
Chapter 2: Deceit Awakens
Summary:
Geumsaegi awakens, ready to continue in his duties. But so does a new realm of deceit and plotting.
Notes:
I did partially use this site to make up a name of a drug, since I might want to use it again later, and I didn't feel like figuring out how to make a scientific name. I did change part of the name, though, https://www.rangen.co.uk/names/medigen.php since I wanted the green of Chlorine Gas.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A sharp blow to his back, as if from a blunt object, deliberate, and held by an individual somewhere very distant. Another blow, followed by a jolt in his midsection, forcing an attempt to gasp. There was movement and gurgling in his chest, as gravity began to force water out of the mouth and towards the ground.
A much harder blow, made from two fists, pounded into his back, finally forcing the squirrel to cough up the water in his lungs. A non-rodent species would have vomited, but Geumsaegi was forced to endure the nausea and unhealthy fullness in his stomach. Cognizant awareness of his situation was still just out of reach, but the spark was ignited as his sense of hearing returned.
“If he does not wake up soon, we may have to perform that mouth-to-mouth thing the nurse talked about…”
“Why would you pay attention to that? It’s not our job! Are you planning to put your mouth on anyone else’s? Besides, our mouths would swallow his entire face…”
I’m…alive? Which meant he could still work to protect Flower Hill, could still get revenge, could still possibly meet up with his loved ones again. Geumsaegi could feel that the muzzle mask was still firmly in place if he focused on it, which meant, above all, he still had a job to do. But where was he? Still in the cavern near the underground river? The voices certainly echoed like that was the case. Slowly, he opened his eyes, calculating his next plan, despite knowing that there was no way he could properly move his body, not in its current state. But he could still try and sow confusion, alleviate suspicion from himself.
He coughed more, trying to rise, only to accidentally slip off the rock he had been laid over, curling up on the ground as his body was wracked with his desperate attempts to breathe, eventually moving onto his left side to open his lungs.
“General…Commander…” Despite Commander Seungnyangi hitting him with his cane earlier, it was Assistant Jogjebi hovering over him. Perfect. “You… were right about… the possible ambush. The traitors… did…try to kill me to weaken you. They said…that you were killed…in the explosions…but I knew it could not be true, not with how you have faked your death before. I’m so glad you are alive…let us try to get out revenge on Flower Hill, yes?” He allowed his eyes to close again as he coughed, spurts of water splashing the ground. He could rest for a bit while the figures above him began to argue over whether to correct him while he was apparently delirious.
“My body is fine! Let me up so I can perform my duties!” He would have loved a rest, but he had no right to take one. Surely, Flower Hill would be sending a message soon with his next instructions. It would be easier than before, since he had sent the scouts back with the maps and diagrams. He simply did not know how it would be done, or when, or how closely he would be watched by the wolves from now on.
“After being struck on the head by a rock and nearly drowning to death? You need to take care of your body, and take a short rest, until we can make sure that you are no longer in any danger of collapsing on us!” The nurse wolf appeared to be one of the more intelligent members of the rank and file, other than Commander Seungnyangi. Assistant Yeou and Assistant Jogjebi were still somewhat strange to him. The fox was obvious, using her body and wiles to get her way, possibly working at running the Unit behind the scenes. But why would a weasel be working with the Wolf Unit, if the species were supposedly at odds with one another? It was something he would have to investigate in the future.
At the very least, once allowed to go outside, the safest way to obtain a message from his country would be through fishing. Innocuous to everyone else, and fish was needed for the kitchens, but also easy enough for another scout to attach a message to the line. It had been one of Scout Goseumdochi’s favorite tricks, so surely his younger brother, Undochi, would have the same thoughts? I can’t wait to find out!
His excitement was easily mistaken for the shock of the past day, and the anger at experiencing such hardships.
The search through the microfilm had been fast and fruitful, allowing the three Flower Hill commanders to look over it, and gather to form a strategy.
“This information will be invaluable for the infiltration of the Wolf Unit enemy compound and the extraction of Dr. Dudeoji,” Commander Goseumdochi began.
“The issue, of course, is the amount of body doubles of Dr. Dudeoji that may be hidden around the compound. Especially since some of them may be willing participants in trying to deceive us, as the first one was. Finding the correct individual may take some time that Dr. Dudeoji does not have, until he finally tells the truth or starves to death…” The duck commander continued.
Commander Darami circled the two, hands crossed around the small of his back, tail held high. “The security is tight and competent enough that we would be able to get one or two scouts in and out, but it would be unlikely to manage to leave with one, or even multiple, moles, if we wanted to extract all of them in the event that we could not differentiate. There are currently the corpse disposal units that could move a larger body outside when taking them to the central crematorium, but if Dr. Dudeoji or any of the imposters were to go missing, all vehicle travel would be stopped and the contents searched.”
The hedgehog commander stood, suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “There is always the new field drug. We have not used it on the ground, so they should have no knowledge of this drug that was just created outside of the public eye. Technically it was meant for the enemy, since once falling asleep the individual will not wake up until the antidote is administered. When mixed with propofol and barbiturates, it prevents brain damage from extended unconsciousness, as well as keeping the lungs from being compromised. It would look just like a coma from extended torture and malnutrition.”
“You wish to enact Operation: Yeonghon-ui Jam on Dr. Dudeoji? Having Geumsaegi give Dr. Dudeoji this medication will prevent our comrade from spilling any secrets he has been holding back. But the question is, with the amount of body doubles, which individual would be the real Dr. Dudeoji? We could order him to drug them all, but then that would be far too suspicious, and they might suspect something amiss.” The squirrel continued.
The duck’s head shot up. “Not if we have Geumsaegi engineer a mass poisoning in the Wolf Unit’s mess hall, especially since they seem to prefer raw food. Of course, there is still the question on what if they leave him to die in that situation.”
“There is no helping it, then,” Commander Goseumdochi muttered. “We cannot have Dr. Dudeoji giving away the secrets of Flower Hill’s underground infrastructure if we are to succeed in fighting off the enemies. If he dies, it will be a martyr’s death. Bamsaegi can also interpret the information stored on the data disk, so we simply won’t allow him to leave Flower Hill until Dr. Dudeoji has been secured, or the enemy no longer wants that information. The material and data Bamsaegi does happen to know is far too important to allow for anything else to go wrong, and he has already been made aware of this. The question is, who do we send?”
“Juldarami is still recovering in the hospital after being shot on the Kkyotip, and will need a bit longer before he can go out into the field. The hidden medical shelter with the hedgehog and duck are already entrenched outside the compound, but the plans would need to be sent to them first, anyway. We have a few other scouts, but they are not at the base at the moment. How are the conditions of the other two scouts, Undochi and Murori?” The duck commander appeared uneasy, but with renewing confidence and understanding of the plan.
“Analyzing the drug from their saliva and drug streams to find the culprit, they should be fully recovered. The poison the Wolf Unit used is Acelaxarine, so it can kill after extended contact, but as long as they do not breathe it in again a second time, there should be no risk of addiction,” The squirrel commander answered. “I can send for them now.” The hedgehog nodded assent, gesturing to a trusted aide.
“But that raises the other question, about Mulmangcho, since he is aware of Geumsaegi and how we send messages to our scouts. He would still be a good source of information about the mice and the Weasel Unit, but moving the target of Operation: Yeonghon-ui Jam from him to Dr. Dudeoji, still leaves the question on what to do with him.”
“Weighing the risks, he will either have to be disposed of by Geumsaegi, or left alive until we can find a way to capture and extract him from the area. One mouse would be much easier to move than a larger mole, although I expect that we may have to bring his brother along so that one does not plot revenge. Who knows how competent he can be when not under his older brother’s thumb.” The hedgehog pondered.
The door opened, allowing Bamsaegi, Undochi, and Murori to enter the room, appearing sheepish yet eager to hear their orders. The young squirrel appeared disappointed, yet encouraged by his squad mates and the task he himself had been given, holding a familiar data disk.
The squirrel and hedgehog commanders stood before them, at attention. “I trust that you understand your new orders?”
“Yes sir!” the hedgehog and duck replied in unison. “We will make sure to properly deliver the items to Geumsaegi without fail, and without distraction!”
“Very good.” Commander Goseumdochi mused. “Do you have any idea as to how you will meet up with him?” The two scouts looked at him, awaiting an explanation or suggestion.
It was Bamsaegi who spoke up, the brown squirrel remembering his childhood. “My brother is likely to go fishing several times within the next few days. He is used to Scout Goseumdochi attaching items and messages to his fishing rod, even before the war. They used to play games like that, and it is likely that they will expect it from us, especially his younger brother.”
The commanders nodded in agreement, smiling at a plan coming together for a successful mission.
In a dimly lit interrogation room, a large wolf stood in a corner, brandishing a tree branch. Officer Yeou sitting on the end of a table, leaning forward, simply giggled, and the wolf lowered his improvised interrogation tool. A bright light shined on Oegwipali, who flinched at the continued conversation.
“…especially given the trouble you two have caused, claiming different people are scouts for Flower Hill without evidence, as well as claiming the existence of scouts in the facility when we found none. But your brother has claimed multiple times to be going crazy, and his actions are, shall we be honest, very erratic, as if he wishes to be caught. You would not happen to understand any of that, would you?”
“Ah, well…” All of their plans had failed due to that damned Special Aide, the Flower Hill squirrel traitor. Mulmangcho was sedated in the other room, so he would not cause any more trouble resulting in the destruction of more of the Wolf Unit compound. His older brother was better at begging for another chance, talking his way out of things, and burrowing straight through walls. He, on the other hand, was one who followed the strongest individual he could trust. But in here, with the fox and the wolf he did not recognize…
No use explaining that they had been trying to bring evidence to the authority figures, before the scouts had stopped them, making it appear as if they were trying to be caught by them. Well, it was time to throw his brother under the bus, like he would have done if the situation was reversed, often to the extreme confusion of the weasels. But the fox was easy on the eyes for a non-mouse, and friendly enough that he might be able to get away with saving his brother as well!
“My brother has just not been right in the head ever since our other brother, Mulsajo, died. Mulmangcho has been getting a little more erratic as of late. There was a mission that sent us out to Flower Hill, and the assignment was sabotaged by a scout. The Special Aide was one of the last individuals we talked to before everything went wrong. Mulmangcho screams in his sleep a lot, when he does manage to get some rest, and most of it involves him.”
The fox officer gently ran a finger under his chin, then lightly gripping an ear in a way that could have been constituted as a threat, if she was not smiling so attractively. “And all this trouble he has been getting you into? You have just been going along with it?”
The one eared mouse smiled sadly. “I am not that good on my own. My brother is the only family I have left, after everyone was drafted or relocated when the soldiers came. I can’t just leave him, not when he still recognizes me, and I might be able to talk him down sometimes. He is still loyal, too! He just wants to do his job and catch Flower Hill Scouts.”
The interrogator wolf barred his teeth as the fox tilted her head. “And what of his obsession with the liaison being a scout for Flower Hill? But then, I do believe that you and your brother were involved in several possible rebellions against the General Commander, beforehand, hmm?” She tapped her pen against the underside of her chin, looking up at the ceiling.
Not good, not good, not good, thinkthinkthink… The squirrel had played them for fools, and cemented his position as trustworthy, while dropping information that the mice were insane. Maybe they could expose the Special Aide a different way, in the future, if he downplayed it all now? “Eh… we are mice, so we do as we are told to do by the weasels, so by the time we figure out something is up, it is a bit too late, you know? My brother wants a higher rank and asks more questions. He is smarter than I am, smarter than most mice, so he gets into situations, and just kind of goes along with it. The weasels seem to enjoy it, but I worry about his ego allowing him to be taken advantage of sometimes. He has always hated the Special Aide since they first met…”
The fox nodded as the conversation continued, understanding their charge in the next room. The idiot weakling in front of them was just like any other mouse, not a threat to them. But they could be useful, alive, in order to test the other mouse, later. “So, we do have some anti-psychotics in stock, if I were to give Mulmangcho some of that and monitor his behavior…”
As Juldarami had garnered a reputation for being a gun fanatic, Geumsaegi had gained his own repute as a lover of fishing. It was an obvious choice, really, since open waters allowed for messages to be passed between scouts and messengers far easier than through the open air. Surely, he would be receiving orders soon, and Bamsaegi would have informed whoever was sent to aim for his fishing pole. Undoubtedly, the next message after this would come through the air, such as via an arrow, hollow bullet, or even a duck in disguise if any crow units visited, in order to avoid suspicious repetition. There was always the numbers stations and codes hidden in Flower Hill public broadcasts, but he had not been given a specific channel to listen to in the area yet.
Besides, he still had to catch fish for Dr. Dudeoji, anyway. Surely, his body cannot hold out much longer, although he should be mentally strengthened if aware of the events of the last few days. He had to have faith in his countrymen. I cannot wait to see who will leave a message! If he was lucky, he might even be able to meet with them, ask about his little brother and his squad mates. His eyes misted at the concept of finding out that the scouts were dreadfully sick, or worse, permanently disabled from the gas.
It was not long before his line felt heavier, three tugs Just like Goseumdochi used to do, and he received his orders. And afterwards, his supplies. He was glad that the wolves were distracted, so that no one else saw the tears flow at the reunion.
Luckily, Flower Hill had figured out what poisonous gas had been used in the torture chamber. A mostly opioid narcotic mixed with Chlorine, Acelaxarine. Unlike other opioid mixes, the initial effect was hyperactivity, likely brought on by the body’s panic response to the pressure and irritation in the lungs, later followed by the regular blissful sedative effect. If one survived breathing in the gas, recovery was fast within a day, but repeated dosages could result in aggressive addiction, starting out with pleasant effects but quickly becoming more violent, not to mention the constant irritation causing thickening scarring in the lungs. Easy enough to hide, since the wolves were already aggressive, especially when it came to trying to get what they wanted, constantly fighting with each other, but also lazy afterwards. Also, prohibitively expensive in large dosages. Not that he was exactly complaining that the Wolf Unit used that, instead of something more instantly deadly or painful, like Sulfur Mustard, straight Chlorine Gas, or the Demon’s White Element.
“Undoubtedly, several of the canisters were lost from the explosions. Mostly the smaller sized cans, the larger ones appear to be mostly safe for now. I will have to do paperwork on them later.” Geumsaegi crouched outside a window, listening to Officer Yeou discuss the loss.
“We had dozens of the smaller cans. Can and should we buy more?” Commander Seungnyangi could be heard asking.
“…There is no reason to buy the gas, as there is no current use for it.” She continued. “Given the expense, it may be better to simply gain information and execute prisoners in the usual manner.”
Glancing around a corner, Geumsaegi watched a wolf sneak into a closed car, opening a small canister wrapped in bio-hazard wrappings. Their expression grew uncomfortable, and then slack and relaxed, devolving into laughter, then eventually subdued giddiness.
Around another corner, he could see wolves in the distance gathered near the remains of the Anti-Espionage facility as it gradually collapsed day by day. The building was still off limits due to the poisonous gasses and unstable terrain, and gas masks had to be used in order to move important items and documents around. One by one, they opened a door, and took a big whiff of something, then sprinting away to stagger around before relaxing on the ground.
Idiots. Do they not know the danger of poisoning themselves? Absolutely disgraceful. I can use this to get revenge on how they almost killed my companions, as well as complete my tasks….
The wolf secretary lunged into the spare room, avoiding the large prone shape and debris on the floor in front of it. Fucking annoying that we have to move all the non-important files over to this place. I'm not the one who blew it up, so why do I have to work all the harder for it?
Other wolves had been freed from their duties for the night, going off to meet and party. Secretly, there had been discussions on their commander that had been spreading. Not only had the old wolf sent his own men into the facility to be poisoned and blown up, he could not even see that the poison was spreading, when most of the other wolves could. If the commander cannot even see the color green all that well, then he must belong to a lower class. Why is a wolf who cannot see the color green properly trying to be a commander like an upper-class wolf who can see the most colors? Granted, the old caste systems had been demolished a few generations ago on the continent, but there were reasons why wolves with less color vision were seen as lower ranking. There would probably be clandestine meetings about leadership positions, soon. The secretary entered the room.
He was immediately hit with a cloud that settled into intense pressure in his lungs, clawing at them like nettles, blocking breathing ability. The door closed behind him. Dropping the files, he turned, desperately pawing for the handle. Finding it, he threw himself out the threshold as the door closed again, landing on the floor in loud wracking, painful coughs, claws digging into the ground to steady himself. The figure next to him moved, gently placing a muzzle over his mouth, allowing fresh, clean, air into his lungs. After a minute, the secretary looked over, to see the liaison to the weasel unit also on the floor, another wolf also collapsed at the tail end of a coughing fit of his own, having been receiving oxygen as well just moments before. Slowly, the mouse turned to him, eyes narrowing. “I warned them that the poison gas would spread and fill rooms…”
The wolf secretary stared, shocked that the mouse would care. He might be useful.
A sentry was relieved of duty, returning to the middle of the compound, ready to return to the barracks. He paused, confused at another wolf slumped halfway through a window in the command center, front half outside and back half inside, drool and foam dripping towards the dirt. Do I need to report this? Do I really care about some drunk idiot? Wait, where did he get the alcohol…Another window in the next room flew open, forcing a strange smell into the air that made his lungs want to close up, as a sickly green smoke rose into the air and dissipated. A mouse poked his head outside of the window, face covered in a gas mask, gently fanning the air. He looked over at the unconscious wolf, and then at the sentry.
“Be careful entering closed rooms, it might be full of poison gas.” The sheer annoyance in the mouse’s tone and expression made the sentry howl with laughter.
“Please check and see if your companion is alive.”
“But if he isn’t, then I would be the one who has to deal with it! It’s too late in the day to deal with that.” He turned, leaving immediately. One of the lower ranking wolves could go do the paperwork on that.
The kitchen was easy enough to infiltrate, his scent covered by the smell of raw fish and a surprising number of berries. It was a simple powder, Xylitol, that Flower Hill had sent for him to use. Sweet, harmless to rodents such as mice, squirrels, and moles, but mostly poisonous to canines. And, best of all, easy to hide in food, even making it taste better, not that his country regularly indulged in such luxuries when their food already tasted delicious without it. Of course, given the rationing, the amount the wolves would eat of the fish would not be enough to kill all of them, but was mostly enough to force severe gastrointestinal distress to temporary fainting spells.
Easy enough to mix into the piles, before he found the chefs.
“Why are you serving raw fish and not cooked? Where is the manager in this dining hall? Does he not know how dangerous raw fish from the ocean can be?” Geumsaegi feigned astonishment, having already surveyed the kitchen. The wolves seemed to like their food raw.
The wolf cook barked in laughter. “Dangerous? We have been eating raw food all of our lives! The fish near Flower Hill do appear to be the sweetest we have ever tasted! I can’t wait until we make it ours and we can eat like this every day!”
Don’t show anger. “The dangers of eating raw food can vary by place to place. There could be different bacteria in these waters, or parasites! Is your manager ok with your troops getting sick?”
“Our kitchen manager? We got him from the Weasel Unit. He says the same thing, the cowardly mouse!” It’s Mulmangcho, isn’t it? Of course, the bastard would manage that. “Luckily he is locked up while his sanity is questioned, so we don’t have to do what he says.” The wolf cook bent down, grinning at him. “It really is quite sweet today. Will you not try some? Maybe if you eat enough, you could become as strong and intelligent as us!”
Don’t eat too much of that fish too fast…“I would prefer my food to be cooked, please do-”
The chef threw him out in a rage. “If you don’t want to eat raw fish, then you can just have the vegetables!”
The wolves in the dining hall laughed and sneered as Geumsaegi dined on a meal of simple chestnuts. He had missed the food around his hometown so much.
Despite the fact that he was supposed to be resting, Geumsaegi was still temporarily drafted to help find anyone unconscious in the halls and stairwells, sometime after dinner. Too small to move them, he was to write down where he saw collapsed wolves, and also radio it in.
Which left him free roam of the command center, and gave him a perfect excuse to look for Dr. Dudeoji and the decoys. Just as Unhasu had planned.
The sleeping darts were small, holding a dark liquid that swirled ominously. The dart was also biodegradable, and would dissolve upon exposure to too much air, leaving no trace of it behind once removed from their capsules. And he could easily shoot through the bars of a cell.
The first Dr. Dudeoji had tried to yell an alert, until ordered to shut up because he was being moved. “Well, fucking hurry up then, I am getting bored of waiting around, plus dinner has not arrived! Almost is not worth the pay-” He dropped as the drug took hold. Clearly, not the real one. He threw half a fish into the room.
The second had stared at him with frightened, but confused eyes. Thin, but also far too thin to be the real mole, even if Dr. Dudeoji was dying of starvation. The next one was not even locked in his room, but he was eating a fish, and was drugged nonetheless.
The final mole whirled on him in anger, eyes flashing a steely blue that could only come from an enraged yet unbroken spirit. He glanced at the dart gun, then glanced up and down the body of the individual holding it, as if to make a move, but knowing it was in his best interest not to, even if he had the strength. An intimidation tactic meant for someone unwary. His expression changed to one of relief, and then a dark amusement as he slumped towards the floor. “Bam…The data?”
Ah, this would be the real one. Finally. Flower Hill’s frustrations and worries were over. Geumsaegi smiled softly at his little brother’s friend, making sure that there were no hidden microphones, even in the limited amount of time the prisoner had been stored there. “Bamsaegi is safe. The data is safe. You will soon be safe, and back in the arms of Flower Hill.” And the mole slipped into unconsciousness, unable to be awoken until back in the safety of Flower Hill and the antidote.
This Dr. Dudeoji alone would be kept alive, in the medical bay once his condition was discovered. After all, Commander Seungnyangi still wanted his information, and the nurses were just competent enough to feed him, at the very least. It is a pity about the other moles, but the lives of my countrymen are more pressing! If he had recognized any of them, or any of the other prisoners he had passed, he may have found a way to help them.
Now, to remove himself from the area so he was not seen nearby the collapsed moles, or seen by other prisoners he had passed by. Outside, he was waylaid by a wolf who insisted he help move a dead body of a wolf. He recognized it as the one who had hot-boxed in the closed vehicle, clearly overdosed to the trained scout. As he dragged the body, he heard yelling. “Come quick! The mole has collapsed and won’t wake up!”
Commander Seungnyangi hobbled across the yard as fast as possible, Lt. Vixen next to him, jogging as fast as her tight skirt and heels would allow. They both wore expressions of pure rage and exasperation, tinged with fear.
“What do you mean, you managed to let him fall into a coma? Are you idiots, after all?” As the liaison, it was Geumsaegi’s job to report back to Dr. Huinjogjebi on what information could have been retrieved from the mole.
The commander of the Wolf Unit simply sat, glumly, exhausted, as Officer Yeou once again rubbed his ears and shoulders. Her expression was determined. “We do not know if the cause of the coma is due to untreated wounds after interrogation, or something to do with the food…” she did not mention the starvation.
“I notice that you are deliberately not mentioning the possibility of the gas. Your wolves have been dropping all over the compound, and you do not even think that it would reach the important prisoners?” It was best not to mention that the wolves were deliberately getting high off of the gas, which would likely cause discord in the ranks later on that he could use.
Both the wolf and fox blanched. Commander Seungnyangi began to rise, eyes flashing in absolute rage, as other wolves in the room began to inch closer, radiating malintent.
Geumsaegi pretended not to notice, even as he remembered the stories of all the other liaisons returning to the Weasel Unit in a state close to death. He sighed, quietly. “This is a disaster. What are we going to tell Dr. Huinjogjebi? Since he lost the disk with the underground study data on it, Dr. Dudeoji was out only hope for finding out the underground infrastructure to help with the occupation of Flower Hill.” He snarled the last words, pacing back and forth.
Then, he paused, as if he had an idea forming as to how to save the face and reputation of both himself and that of the Wolf Unit. Straightening upright, excited, he slammed a fist into a paw. “We don’t have to tell him anything.” The wolves looked confused, but still angry.
“This can work for us. If you offer to exchange Dr. Dudeoji in return for a demonstration of the Iron Crow, then that would give you time to orchestrate a cover up. You just need to keep him alive until then. Hand over the mole via a car Dr. Huinjogjebi sends, and we can say that he was awake when he left, putting the blame on one of his men, instead.”
Commander Seungnyangi nodded thoughtfully, but Officer Yeou still leaned forward towards him. “And as the liaison, why would you be so willing to go through with such a plan?”
“I wish to get my revenge on Flower Hill as fast as possible, as thoroughly as possible. Excuse my ambition, but Dr. Huinjogjebi is unlikely to use the Iron Crow himself due to its power, but I expect you, the WOlf Unit, to use it properly to defeat our enemies," he lied. "Dr. Huinjogjebi expected extreme resistance, so a trade between Dr. Dudeoji and a demonstration of the Iron Crows would undoubtedly be a present surprise and opportunity he would jump on almost immediately.”
The canines in the room now nodded along. What a clever fellow. No wonder he was the Special Aide for all those years.
Geumsaegi hid his smile. Good, they understand what I am saying. This gives me a chance to see the Iron Crow in action, so Flower Hill can plan countermeasures. From what I have seen of Dr. Huinjogjebi’s weaponry, I can guess that the Crow fires wide beams that vaporizes the targets.
A plan was working out. It could not fail. There was just one thing...
“Now, as for that traitor, Mulmangcho and his brother…”
The wolves waved him off. “We will need him alive as insurance, for now. Have him take the blame for Dr. Dudeoji’s condition, if he have to. If anything goes wrong, we will need a scapegoat.” Besides, his skills in the past were also quite useful, according to his files, Commander Seungnyangi thought. He would be much more useful at burrowing underground and being able to recognize what is down there than the former Special Aide. And I want to know what is under the surface. Still, the intelligence and loyalty of this mouse would be invaluable to obtain for ourselves.
Disappointing. But I can still try and work with that. Geumsaegi understood that everything could not be perfect. But Mulmangcho could always meet with an accident.
Far away, in a hidden stronghold, a group of disgraced rebels gathered to lick their wounds after a desperate flight, their leader finally returning to consciousness.
“That Goddamn Special Aide… if only he wasn’t so-” the lament was cut off by an agonized coughing fit, as the bed-bound weasel jerked forward much too suddenly. Other weasels moved forward to comfort him, also slow and painful in their own movements. “He did this to me!”
Nervously, an officer removed his hat. “At least you were right to have us wear bulletproof padding under our clothes, Chief of Staff! But-but how did you get so injured?”
The former Chief of Staff to the Weasel Unit looked up, glaring angrily. A medic weasel responded, “bullet proof clothing stops the projectiles. It does not stop the impact force of the bullet, and can still cause severe internal bruising and broken bones. It should heal, in time.” He knew better than to mention that repeated bullets could cause severe internal bleeding that could kill the recipient. The afflicted weasel was lucky he had the foresight to allow himself fall into the water behind him, out of range of the gun.
“Call me-call me general commander, or leader. At least one day. Because- that is what I will be once we get rid of that damned old cripple, Dr. Huinjogjebi!” he coughed, holding a moist handkerchief to his face, catching his breath.
“Now, now. He could still be useful in some way.” A security guard whispered, unsure of himself. “You still have the support of much of the Weasel Unit and the mice, especially over an old weasel who casually executes his own soldiers. Did you forget how everyone worked together to sneak us all out of the restaurant while you pretended to be dead? He did not suspect a thing!” Others weasels joined in, nodding in agreement, laughing, a few mice waitresses caressing his arms, tittering.
The coughing weasel relaxed, surrounded by trustworthy followers and officers. Most of the useful ones were on his side. “We will get them back for this, and teach them ALL a good lesson.”
A weasel large in stature yet small in brains spoke up. “But how are we going to get revenge on them now that our plan to kill Dr. Huinjogjebi has been found out? If we are not around to foul up the meeting between the Weasel Unit and the Wolf Unit, then how will we take over the Army and Flower Hill?”
For a moment, the Chief of Staff went to provide an angry rebuttal, then stopped and went into a deep thought as his officers gathered around him. “With the joining of the Wolf Unit, Dr. Huinjogjebi will have enough dumb muscle to keep control over his power. We would have to get rid of him before he gives everything to the Wolf Unit and they take over Flower Hill in our stead. The wolves will deny us access to the residents and the fish if they do, and likely try to subjugate us afterwards.” He glanced towards the weasel who had been a previous liaison, who had nearly been beaten to death for simply trying to talk to them. Or steal their fish, and was caught.
Greedy bastards. Unlike weasels, who were obligate carnivores, the wolves could also eat fruits and vegetables. Which was likely why they had taken up residence in an area with lots of chestnuts and berry bushes to supplement their food. It was not fair for the wolves to hoard all the good fish for themselves. Especially the Goby.
His mind went to the yellow coated mouse, the one who had stood by the feeble General Commander Jogjebi. “The first thing to do is worry about the Special Aide. He is too clever, too loyal. I bet he was made the Chief of Staff in my place...”
Another weasel spoke up. “There is a rumor that he was actually from one of the special anti-espionage units. That he was really a bodyguard whose mission was to hunt down traitors.”
The leading weasel nodded. “That would make sense. If one wanted to get rid of that invalid, they either needed to go through him, or would want to weaken Jogjebi by taking out someone he was fond of, first.” He paused, thinking. “I see there was much more to keeping him around than just an attractive loyalty that exists after the old fool's death. We will have to kill him as revenge for foiling our plans. He is too dangerous otherwise.”
“I heard he is secretly a scout from Flower Hill…” a mouse whispered.
The weasels glanced over, and the snorted. As if a scout from Flower Hill would bother trying to save the leader of the enemy forces. Mice. Good thing she is so cute.
“So, what do we do about the Wolf Unit? How will we defeat them?”
The Chief of Staff was scheming, in his element as a weasel. “We will need to gather more firepower to get rid of them. Dr. Huinjogjebi is in charge of the Weasel Unit now, which means he has left his Sturgeon Base unguarded. If we can get in-” he paused, needing to cough and catch his breath again in the excitement, “We can disable and turn the weakling mouse guards in the facility to our side, and take the robot weapons for ourselves. The Iron Crow is a bit of a wild card, but since the Sturgeon Robots can disguise themselves as briefcases, a sneak attack is possible.”
The large weasel spoke up, having been licking his lips at the concept of sturgeons and fish. “But the base was destroyed, and sunk into the ocean with no survivors?”
Chief of Staff hissed a laugh. “Surely, that is what they would want us to think! Dr. Huinjogjebi was always so secretive, hiding his base of operations under the water. It would surface for some time, before sinking back under. There is no way it was actually destroyed; it is just in hiding. We just have to sneak in and reprogram the robots to our discretion, and take over the Weasel Unit that way! The Alligator Unit has shown interest in breaking with the Wolf Unit and working with us after we gain control, as long as they can be overseers. They will prove useful in navigating sunken areas. Now, just how to get in…”
The weasel guide spoke up. “I have heard that the only way to access the Sturgeon Base is with a special remote key. The old weasel has one on his person, and I would think that he could not be parted from it. But General Commander Jogjebi could open it with a jewel necklace that he always had on his person. It was quite the stir when we managed to steal it beforehand. The question is, who has it now, and how do we retrieve it?”
Another weasel, a former secretary, came forward with the information. “It is stored in a safe, in a secret, secure location, with multiple codes left in other areas. The only one who would know how to get to the areas, as well as know the codes for the safes without triggering the panic alarms would be…” He blanched, lowering his head and shoulders. “…The Special Aide, sir”
Instead of rage, the plotting weasel only sighed, pain in his ribs preventing an outburst at what was in hindsight the obvious conclusion. “So, we can’t kill that bastard just yet. We need him alive. Which means our first priority should be obtaining that mouse, and making him tell us the codes. We have a score to settle, anyway. Once we get the codes, maybe we can ‘convince’ him to join us as the superior leaders. Or at least make an example out of him for all the trouble he has caused us. Once we have the necklace, we can take over the Sturgeon Base, take the weapons, and get rid of the Wolf Unit and anyone else who dares to stand in our way! Then, we can finally occupy Flower Hill and receive what we deserve!”
The gathered weasels cheered, glad to finally have a plan. But the Chief of Staff was contemplative. “One thing, though. I fear that if the Special Aide is indeed an undercover scout from one of our espionage units, he may have been expecting someone to try and grab him at any time for this exact purpose. No, we will have to bide our time and be very careful how we go about this…”
He was going to enjoy teaching that meddling mouse a harsh lesson in interfering with his plans.
Most of the weasels were drunk or asleep from partying when the guide managed to sneak off to a hidden alcove, pulling out a minuscule long wave radio, special signal receiver hidden within his glasses.
“You were right, boss. He does know the location of the Sturgeon Base. Better yet, he knows how to find the key to trigger its opening, as well as who knows how to find the key! But the individual is the Special Aide, and I don’t know if we can grab him easily enough…”
A dark chuckle from the other end of the radio. “Very good. You will be rewarded richly for your endeavors if you continue your duty. Notify me when he has found the location of the key.”
“You are sure that you are ok with me working for Chief of Staff and helping him get in charge of the Weasel Unit?”
“He can play leader for now. I am the only one worthy enough to lead all of the weasels on the continent, as is my birthright. I will punish him and show him his place, later. Just make sure your true loyalty stays to the winning side, and you shall have control over all the fish you want. I will have someone investigate this 'Special Aide' of yours to find his weaknesses and secrets. If he is as good as the rumors say, we may have to find a way to turn him to our side.”
The guide interrupted. "He did receive a lot of luxuries from General Commander Jogjebi whenever he stopped traitors that were plotting against him. He seemed pretty happy about that."
The dark voice continued. “...Intriguing. That may be one way. Otherwise, as far as our occupation plans go, we already have scouts and a strong foothold within Flower Hill, so we are quickly gaining traction and information on that front. With the addition of the Sturgeon Robots, there will be no stopping us.”
“Yes Sir!” The guide replied happily.
Notes:
Operation yeonghon-ui jam (영혼의 잠) = Operation Soul Sleep
Sulfur Mustard- Mustard Gas
Demon’s (Devil's) White Element - White phosphorus
Chapter 3: A Joining of Wolves and Weasels
Summary:
Commander Huinjogjebi and Commander Seungnyangi finally join their units, immediately starting in on plans to destroy their mutual enemy, the populace of Flower Hill. Geumsaegi makes his own plans to disrupt their schemes, but a surprise appearance from an outsider may come bearing disastrous news for him.
Notes:
Sorry for the wait, just as I'm recovering from long Covid, I get Covid AGAIN.
One of my Tumblr mutuals will probably know where a certain plot point is going based on a certain phrase. They drew a comic about it, and you know what they say about certain minds thinking alike...
Anyway, I did take the time to do some world building (in canon world map looks like a real world map) on my Tumblr account, so I'll summarize it here. Also, I figured that I could use nameless background characters like the show did, but I figured there was no harm in giving some of them names and backstories, after all, if I wanted.
Rabbit Village: China
Teikoku (Imperial State/country): Japan, where the weasels are from
Usuhan Jiyeog (Superior Area/Territory): South Korea, and area where the weasels have colonies and rule the animals there
United States Alliance: The home country of the Wolf Unit. Squirrel and Hedgehog Merchandise does have the wolves as wearing helmets that say 'US' on them, so why not?
Jindo Island: That's just Jindo Island, a real place where Jindo Dogs are from. Might as well make it a nation.
Chaand Hadia (Moon Gift): Pakistan. North Korea and Pakistan have surprisingly good relations, to the point that the latter has smuggled nuclear weapons into the former for them to use.
International Hague Courts: Flower Hill does worry about some 'international community,' so this might as well exist. Not because of a World War, but maybe because of Imperialism and the issue of species needs and such.
Chambelli Koh: Random nation I made up for a different AU, but it might be referenced once or twice
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
General Commander Huinjogjebi was more than pleased with the smooth-talking operation his new Chief of Staff had managed to pull off. Keeping the former commander’s Special Aide alive for his own use, despite his suspicions, had certainly paid off.
No one in the Weasel Unit had ever managed to convince the wolves to do anything for them without a large amount of trouble, including a severe beating to the liaison that had been sent. It was not even unheard of for an unlucky liaison to fail a ‘loyalty test,’ and end up executed on the spot. It was little wonder General Commander Jogjebi had kept the field mouse around. Aggressive, for sure, but very competent in getting the job done.
Providing a demonstration of the Iron Crow weapon was…not something he wanted to do, not in its current state, especially since it would likely turn directly into an entire operation. But if it meant that the Wolf Unit would assist the weasels in finally taking over Flower Hill, as well as handing over Dr. Dudeoji, it was a sacrifice he just might be willing to make. Huinjogjebi would have preferred the younger assistant. An older mole willing to die for his country, over a young, inexperienced squirrel, who would be more likely to be persuaded to tell the truth? Even if the squirrel did not know everything, Huinjogjebi was sure he could extrapolate and put together data from what he could extract. He was, after all, a scientist. Well, he could work with Dr. Dudeoji, if he had to do so. Besides, who knew what trouble his Chief of Staff had been put through to come back with such agreeable results? Given the state of the Weasel Unit, he could not afford to be picky. At least, not until the Unit had been replenished with mice and weasels.
From his previous experience with the wolves, Commander Huinjogjebi knew to empty some of the larger fields nearby. The wolves were usually full of destructive energy, and they would need a wide-open area to burn that energy off in a way that would not affect anything important, or be too disruptive to the weasels and mice under his own command. The few crows in the area were not too happy, but that was to be expected.
The medical bay was stocked up as Commander Huinjogjebi worried about the viability of the local aquatic populations being fished up for extra food, if the supply trucks coming in did not have enough fish to feed the entire population for long enough. So far, the number of fish in the areas had not run out, suggesting a migration in the area. If he had the freedom, he would have loved to study the local waters. But no, he was the General Commander of the Weasel Unit now, and he simply could not waste his time on his old studies. Retrieving his data from the sunken Sturgeon base would come, eventually. The rooms and cabinets had been designed to be ocean and salt proof in case of a catastrophic breach, so they should be safe, even if they were strewn all over the sea floor. Not that anyone outside of his own staff should know about that. He had specifically hand picked them to be as loyal as possible. But one never knew what would tempt a mouse, or how desperate one would be to gain such information.
As of now, the only way to access the location and entrance to the Sturgeon Base was hidden away, location and series of codes known only to a few select individuals.
He missed his pet shark. Well, he would have time to get and train another shark pup at some point, if his health held up. Damn Flower Hill! We will get you now! He would drag the Commanders through the streets until they were nothing but corpses when he was done with them.
The column of jeeps approached the Weasel Base, in lines of two, hanging back from a wildly swerving lead car. That must be Commander Seungnyangi. The wolf commander’s terrible driving was legendary. Commander Huinjogjebi had already ordered the weasels to stand clear and to be ready to jump out of the way, just in case. Closest behind him was a medical car, carrying Dr. Dudeoji, undoubtedly sedated for the transport. Surely, they were smart enough to do that at least, to prevent escape. Moles were large, and could dig well, after all. The private medical bay set up for them had far more restraints than the usual.
The lead car, swerved, avoiding several large rocks, and nearly falling off a cliff and into the ocean. Some of the other vehicles began to follow suit, briefly playing chicken with the ledge to show off their bravery in front of the weasels. Commander Huinjogjebi supposed he would have to put up some more barriers, even if a normal idiot would not have risked driving there. Wolves…Well, they had just driven over open land with the top of the jeep down, ripe for snipers, if Flower Hill ever grew a backbone. It was a wonder they had so much trouble with mere squirrels and hedgehogs. Well, things would change, now that he was in charge.
There were not as many weasels present to greet Commander Seungnyangi as he would have preferred. Huinjogjebi had, after all, been very busy in rooting out traitors who had wanted to work with the former Chief of Staff instead of him. It was a pity they had cremated the body so quickly. He would have liked to search the clothes for notes on co-conspirators, or in hindsight, hold a public execution. It was unlikely the wolves would notice, however, especially if he distracted the commander as he arrived. And besides, there was work to be done around the base. It had originally been meant for the higher ups, after all, and not for the influx of general troops after most of the bases had been blown up by Flower Hill. He was lucky he had managed to keep the officers’ only areas for them to relax. He needed their support the most.
The white weasel approached the car as the wolf stepped out of it, noticing the grip the fox officer had on the seat, as well as the somewhat tense and harried expressions of his new Chief of Staff and the former commander’s twin brother. As if all three were getting used to such driving, but their own instincts screamed at them to seek safety from the danger.
The two commanders moved towards each other, both eyeing the other, both attempting to stand straight with the use of their canes. The mouse Chief of Staff quickly moved to his side, greeting him. Who is he going to side with? Does he think the wolves are stronger than us, after all? I will have to test him, later, so see his own loyalty.
Finally, the white weasel spoke. “I grant you much welcome, Commander Seungnyangi. I trust you had a good drive?” Geumsaegi had already spotted the mice with the flowers meant for greeting, and quickly motioned for them when it was their cue. It was Assistant Jogjebi who took them, knowing the proper formalities for the penninsula’s culture in greetings. The wolves, outsiders as they were, would not care about the flowers, but formalities were formalities.
“Likewise, Commander Huinjogjebi,” The wolf seemed to be seizing up the white weasel, eyes glancing over the scar barely hidden by his hat, observing his spine and posture. “I do trust that you have everything set up for our little demonstration? We have also brought our special cargo. We can transport it into a secure location, posthaste.”
Both Commanders paused to watch as the sedated Dr. Dudeoji and Mulmangcho were carried out of the medical van and into the secure hospital ward. Geumsaegi’s eyes flashed over the whole train of cars, searching to see if any other secret materials he did not know about beforehand were being transported. Finding none, he pondered over the medical ward. Surely, deliberately surrounding the ward with so many guards would be a natural target for anyone looking to rescue prisoners? It must be a trap. It is too obvious, there must be a trick to it. After the incident with him being ordered to shoot the fake Dr. Dudeoji as a test, he would have to figure out the mechanisms behind this occurrence.
Given the traditional animosity, there should not be a reason why the wolves were so calm upon meeting the weasels, other than cheers of welcome, unless there was some underlying plot.
Commander Huinjogjebi waved towards his command center. “Come, I will show it to you now.”
Geumsaegi watched the familiar clips of the Iron Crow in action, taking in as much information as he could, making sure the hidden camera in his labels were not noticeable. Commander Seungnyangi observed, captivated, clearly fantasizing on getting his hands on what he could probably think was an ultimate weapon to destroy the peaceful communities of Flower Hill, that had so far eluded his grasp. Normally boisterous, the wolves that had been let into the room to watch were equally fascinated and quiet. Well, they are an airborne unit after all…They would take viewing another flying machine that they were going to use rather seriously.
“So, how exactly does one fly one of these Iron Crows? Is it like flying a regular jet?” The disguised squirrel asked, deciding to get the explanation out of the way before it could be done privately, when he was not around. The wolves turned, staring at the elderly weasel in rare display of rapt fascination towards what they saw as a lessor species.
Commander Huinjogjebi grinned, leaning forward, pleased to have an audience. “The cockpit of my Iron Crows are a decoy. If, by some slim chance, someone in the target area was to see the plane coming, it is where they would aim. By the time they realize that there is no vital machinery in that area, it will be far too late to stop the disintegration beams from deploying. Instead, the plane is controlled by remote, like a drone.” The wolves’ excitement appeared slightly mitigated that they would not be riding in such a beast, but Geumsaegi was thrilled by the information.
It was Officer Yeou that perked up, tail high as she began the lean over the wolf commander. “And that would mean that no one would need any training on how to fly the Iron Crow as a pilot. They would just need the proper controls and signal, which means we don’t need an actual demonstration. We can just attack Flower Hill directly, within a few days.”
Assistant Jogjebi tilted his head, nodding, but Commander Seungnyangi appeared suspicious, leering at the weasel. “And what is the drawback to the Iron Crow, that you have dawdled in using it yourself? There must be a reason. I suggest you tell it to us now, as a sign of trust.”
Geumsaegi listened intently as the white weasel sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes at the immediate loyalty test. “The disintegration beam is such a powerful weapon, that no matter where I placed the fuel tanks, the sheer heat would force them to explode. As such, I needed to add a specific and relatively rare mineral, An'obutaniumu, to the metal of the machine itself to help protect the two. It is also why I had to drop the idea of having an actual pilot, and move to remote controls, since fully making a cockpit capable of not killing the pilot through heatstroke alone was not cost effective. The beam also requires the same An'obutaniumu mineral to function as a power source. We do have a special mining facility dedicating to obtaining the mineral, though…”
The wolf nodded, understanding, somewhat disappointed. “So, the weaponized versions of the Iron Crow are limited use only. But that just means we will have to attack as hard as possible, as fast as possible.” He was right to assume that the ‘Iron Crows’ being used as general transport were not the true weapons.
“How long would you say the fuel and the beam could last, if they were both being used together? I know some coordinates on Flower Hill that Commander Jogjebi thinks-excuse me, thought were very important targets, although I do not know their viability now.” Geumsaegi inquired. It was a gamble. It would be easy for a duck or plane from Flower Hill to bait an Iron Crow into combat with the beam. He knew that both the weasels and the wolves would keep the beam on, and waste energy trying to get their target in a rage. His deliberate slip up might come in useful later, if he wanted to keep up his ruse of pretending to suggest that the late commander had only faked his demise. After all, technically, the Special Aide had been ambushed, and should not have seen the death of the commanding weasel, let alone the body, as the base exploded. He would not have the confirmation other than what others had said. Normally, bodies were disposed of quickly. But the body of a high-profile individual would need to be put on display for at least a few days, in order to prove that they were dead, and not just faking it. The brother turned, slightly, twitching an eyebrow as if he suspected the mouse may know something he did not, but no one else appeared to notice.
“The fuel will last until we find large enough villages or compounds, and then we only need to use the lasers for a short amount of time. We do actually have records of the coordinates you used for the war games, and assuming they are accurate, we can send the Iron Crows out in groups to those locations to test them. One of them, at least, should have an actual target,” Dr. Huinjogjebi hand-waved. If none of those locations have a target, then that would be very suspicious of the Special Aide, and he would know that, so we should use his coordinates.
I am sure he is thinking of what it would mean if there were no targets at the given locations! Geumsaegi had known that the coordinates might be checked by scouts before the toadstool bombs were sent out. The guilt had gnawed at him as he used the locations of known villages for the war games, but surely the might of Flower Hill would have stopped the bombs before they brought destruction. And he had managed to stop them. He just had to do it again. They all had to fight harder for the day of victory.
Commander Seungnyangi nodded, somewhat pleased. “Shall we catch up on our friendships over coffee or tea?”
“Yes, I think we shall.” Geumsaegi moved to follow, but was stalled by the confused expressions of the guards.
Of course! Moving from Special Aide to Chief of Staff means I won’t get to sit in on as many conversations! Well, at least the new position allowed him to take stock of all the soldiers and weapons around the base. It would also give him far more freedom to send messages. He could try to plant listening bugs in any room where the commanders might meet, at a later time.
The three Flower Hill commanders gathered with their trusted staff once again in the meeting room, having received a transmission from Geumsaegi, with the new information of an attack on their beloved homeland. Of course, in the confusion of the two units combining, a stray video transmission outside of the base would go unnoticed. It was not something they could conceivably do very often, especially once the wolves who had worked in the anti-espionage facility started monitoring the lines. It had been nice to see their scout's face, to see a dear friend and also to check on his physical condition.
“It is…a very formidable weapon they have. But I feel like I have seen such a thing before…” Commander Darami began, ignoring the understatement.
Commander Murori nodded, taking the field. “Such laser beam weapons have already been in use for approximately forty years. The United States Alliance, that the Wolf Unit is a part of, has been using them in their HELIOS navy ships for some time now, comparable to the Block-I lasers used by the navies on this continent. Although, they are mainly used to blow up small pirate fleets, and their primary usage is to blind the opponent and burn the wiring of craft flying overhead. It was our understanding, however, that a beam canon of that size needed to be supported by an enormous base alongside the energy source. Luckily, An'obutaniumu is relatively difficult to obtain, so there are only a few sources we would have to look into in order to disrupt their supply.”
“You are not worried about the stability of the weapon, given the shape of the Iron Crow?” Commander Gosemdochi asked.
The naval officer shook his head, “No, I feel like the posture of the Iron Crow is sound. That is about the maneuver I, or any other bird, would use to pick up or drop something. We just don’t usually hold that position for very long since it is not as aerodynamic. But the wings might possibly be for show or steering, anyway, and the drone is held aloft by the jets behind and under it. Which means a possible loss in maneuverability, but not in staying aloft. But I would still suggest trying to stop the machine before any of them hit an inhabited area. We only have a few days to think up a countermeasure, if they do not decide to enact their scheme early.”
“That last part is easy enough, and something we can do on our own,” Commander Darami began. “If the Iron Crows are remote, then they need to be controlled by a central computer in the Weasel Unit’s new command center. We already have limited access to said computer, but any interference from the outside will be noticed. We can only attempt it easily once, and then it will take an immense amount of effort from our coders in order to do it again. All the same, I would like to give Geumsaegi a data hacking stick in case he should ever need it.” The commanding squirrel produced a small rectangular stick, clearly meant to be plugged into a computer’s tower port. “Should he ever need it, he can plug it into any device, and he will be able to control it. In fact, I believe that it is imperative that Geumsaegi should be given one of these.”
Commander Gosemdochi tilted his head up in agreement. “Just in case, we should get this device to Geumsaegi within the next few days. We do have an asset dropping off some supplies this afternoon, and we know that they are also traveling to the Weasel Base afterwards to do business. We can send the data with them. This plan cannot fail, for the peace and security of Flower Hill depends on it!”
One of the secretaries blanched. This is going to be expensive.
Settling down, the three continued as their aides passed around information. “And now for the next question. Clearly, one of our informants deliberately gave us the wrong information about the Wolf Unit’s abilities to pick up on anything suspicious in the air…”
Dealing with prisoners, spies, and deserters was a tricky business. Before the war, the mice and weasels had been content to simply leave anyone they had abducted in the path of a patrol, once they had extracted what information they could out of them. It allowed for the commanders to permit soldiers and civilians to give certain bits of important information away during interrogation, since doing so would allow the victim to survive to tell Flower Hill what the attackers were after.
Once the war started, the concept of prisoner exchanges had been instated, as dictated by the international Hague courts. One individual for another. Closely followed by the idea of keeping prisoners unharmed and imprisoned for the duration of the war. Of course, Flower Hill was very good in not letting their own troops get taken alive. Units were more likely to fight to the last soldier, and then go down in a suicide charge, than allow themselves to get captured, even if Flower Hill did not punish anyone for getting caught by the enemy.
The weasels and mice, however, were mostly conscripts who either wanted to live, or would not kill themselves over what they saw as a lesser species. Which meant that there would be prisoners of war.
Technically, outright torture was forbidden by the Hague, but it was not as if the international court wanted to look too closely at the workings of a couple of small countries they did not see as too significant.
Even Flower Hill had to set up its own information extraction facilities, and later, prisons, to keep captured mice and weasel soldiers alive and healthy before they could be sent back to their homes. It was not as if the bulk of the soldiers had any say in attacking their beloved country, as much as they looked down on Flower Hill. They were not to be hated. Pitied, perhaps, due to their barbarism and desperation to escape their failing country, but they had brought that on themselves in allowing their own leaders to run amok and tear the nations apart.
The capture of the majority of Tokgasi, as well as the other scout rings installed by the Weasel Unit, had been very fulfilling information wise, allowing for many victories. However, a not insignificant number of the scouts had eschewed their duties, genuinely attempting to find a better life in their disguises as Flower Hill civilians. It was easy to figure out which ones were faking it. The papers Geusmaegi and Juldarami had sent over held very specific instructions for each of the Weasel Unit scouts, right down to what to do if there was a massive security breach. But it also held information on scouts who had been presumably lost, or had deserted once given the chance, before thier own scouts had gotten a hold on it.
These scouts had been hunted down before the others, but instead of being arrested, were gently approached, and told that they could continue their lives as Flower Hill civilians, as long as they provided information from time to time. Especially on the other scouts. After all, they were wells of information that could continue to receive information from the Weasel Unit, in exchange for living in the relative luxury of Flower Hill as compared to the struggle of Usuhan Jiyeog. They were, of course, closely watched.
Usually, any information would be thoroughly vetted before used for their own advantage. But it appeared as if one of their assets had managed to pull one over on them.
The hedgehog nodded towards the door, giving the signal for the guards to exit for a minute, and return escorting in a very frightened field mouse in Flower Hill civilian clothes.
“…As such, we do believe that you may have omitted something on purpose.” The accusations were serious, and could end with the field mouse being exiled from the country he had made his home.
“B-bu-but! Would it no-not be obvious? The Wolf Unit is an airborne unit at its core! Why would it not have radar systems capable of picking up even small birds? Any airborne unit would have one! It’s common sense!”
Shit. The sentiment was shared around the room. Was it true, that airborne units would have extra sensitive radar systems to track flying vehicles? It made sense, in hindsight. Which meant they were far behind in certain technologies in other countries. Their own radar systems would not have picked up the small plane from so far away, let alone the hang gliders, but the wolves might have actually picked up on the small cloud. This was a massive security flaw on their part.
Commander Gosemdochi was first to laugh, high pitched, turning into a chuckle as he regained his composure. “Of course! Any air unit would have such sensitive radars! I am sorry, we just wanted to test to make sure you knew that as well, since you did not mention it. Also, it does appear as if one of your neighbors wishes to get closer to you, so we have brought you here to discuss courtship rituals in case you ever find yourself in a type of situation…” They needed to fix the flaws in their outdated systems.
In a secure building, the two enemy commanders continued their talk from the previous day, thunder rumbling in the distance.
“And how much support can we expect from your mainland, Teikoku, for this endeavor? Or even in the future?” The Wolf Commander asked, wanting to get all his information straight.
“I assume that kind of situation is the same as with your United States Alliance. Teikoku established the Usuhan Jiyeog lands for the colonies, and then left to allow for us to conquer the rest of the region ourselves for several generations, until we can bring it into the fold. Due to international pressures that arose, Teikoku simply cannot send their full force of an army to finally bring these lands into submission. But it is fine if we do so, and then return it to the lands of our ancestors. They still support us with supplies and weapons, but cannot send their armies.” Dr. Huinjogjebi explained.
The wolf commander snorted, annoyed, covering up Officer Yeou’s quiet tittering. You utter fool! This is why you are beneath us wolves! The nation of Teikoku had established the Usuhan Jiyeog colonies before nearly collapsing into itself due to civil wars and financial hardships, the latter of which still continued. While it had recovered, it had abandoned its former colonies, and had no interest in trying to take over and govern parts of a continent so far away. Not when there were smaller islands that were easier targets, assuming the Jindo Kingdom did not take over the islands first. But the weasels continued to live in denial. Well, at least they were easy to manipulate, with some individuals that were smart enough to be allowed to serve under them. How exactly the White Weasel had created a flying version of HELIOS when their own plans had gone missing was a mystery to be solved. He just had to stay and figure out how.
“Of course not. This unit exists to protect our country’s foreign interests, and stop threats before they start, with a show of force to discourage others. We are allowed to occupy and rule over regions if we think the nations will become dangerous to the United States Alliance if left alone. But the liaisons our governments send can only speak English, so we can show them what we want, and then do as we see fit, as long as it is not in his native tongue. Although, it has been getting more difficult as of late, with the international community accusing us of being rogue agents, as if they should care! We are just waiting for one of them to threaten to contact the international courts. We will put them in their place, then!”
He sighed, continuing, “All this was so much easier with the last leader of the country. Perhaps, it would be better if the international courts were involved. The United States Alliance would disavow us as rouge agents, and then we could truly do as we please and take some land for ourselves. Maybe it would be best if we did something showy to start it off, like publicly execute a large group of civilian prisoners, once we get our hands on some…”
Dr. Huinjogjebi nodded, fully understanding. “Yes, I suppose after your previous head of country was impeached after being caught with an unsanctioned mate, it would be hard to find a leader as fantastic as him in foreign policy.” Stupid, really. A powerful and intelligent leader should be allowed to have as many mates as he pleased. But, then again, the United States Alliance voted their leaders into power for only short periods of time before a new voting period. They did not choose their leaders from families who had been specially selected and bred to lead, so if a leader turned out to be weak and pathetic, preventing anyone in the position from freely choosing a mate might be the right call after all. But to punish him so severely over it?
It was better not to talk about their superiors. The extermination of those fucking Flower Hill pests came first, as revenge for the loss of his dear Commander Jogjebi. But also…
“And how was ‘distinguishing’ my liaison?”
“You liaison is an interesting one. Quite amusing to play with. I do have a game I like to play to distinguish loyal and enemy agents, when I have both a prisoner acquired from the enemy, as well as a few body doubles-”
“Ah, the old ‘shoot the imposter’ trick! How did he do?” Huinjogjebi pretended to laugh, but he was still intrigued.
“If one refuses to shoot, it means they are a traitor who was sent to extract their target, and the death would force them to fail their mission. Those just get executed immediately. If they are not traitors, then are they weak to not shoot someone from the other side. Of course, firing immediately could also mean that the enemy might want their target dead, rather than in enemy hands. A real catch-22, so to speak, if one acts immediately. He went to fire immediately, and that is still very suspicious. I would have arrested and interrogated him right then and there if that mouse had not stopped him…”
“Ah, Mulmangcho. And have you executed him yet?”
“He appears to be completely insane, and also obsessed with the mouse. We shall give him some medication for a while, and see if he can at least become coherent, if not cured since his records suggest he can otherwise be useful. However,”
Both commanders, along with their officers and aides leaned in closely. “Your liaison does not speak like a normal mouse. He is well too trained to be a simple ‘Special Aide.’ Furthermore, several things Mulmangcho mentioned during his time in my den bothered me. Mulmangcho and his brother have a long record in the Weasel Unit, both good and bad. Commander Jogjebi’s Special Aide, however, only has a record that starts during Operation: Mole, when it would be easy for a scout to slip in and quickly rise through the ranks, especially if there were field mice disguised as squirrels running around.”
“So, do you think he would have shot his own countryman in the test?”
“With how shrewd he is, I think he would have figured out it was a fake to begin with. No, there is something about him that I desire to find out. When I sent him over to you, I contacted someone who is very good at finding things out. They should be arriving shortly…” Commander Huinjogjebi elected to ignore how strange it was that the wolf knew about the disguised field mice.
Geumsaegi glared at the two as they approached the checkpoint near the entrance, glancing at the deer and markhor goats flowing in through the opening, each carrying a large wooden crate on their backs. In the background, different shapes with more flowing robes gathered by the tree line. “And how many of these outside contacts have you been using to deliver your supplies? I may require a list in order to keep everything in order.” He had a duty as the Chief of Staff to know about such outside contacts, such as mercenaries and information brokers. This group moving in so casually meant that there had to be more, that the Unit was used to them, and it irritated him.
Commander Seungnyangi stared at the deer, clearly the leader of the group, while the goats appeared to be porters. Elaborately embroidered silk trousers and shirt, matching hijab- wait. Is that the shape of antlers? Well, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell…He was more worried about the security, especially after the near destruction of the Wolf Unit base the elderly weasel still did not know about. Pulling out the handgun, he pointed it at the deer, aiming between the lenses of the tan rimmed glasses. “And you trust this one enough to not want me to distinguish between friend or foe?”
Dr. Huinjogjebi shifted, mildly uncomfortable. That’s right! I can’t trust anyone, since there has to be a Flower Hill scout somewhere. But I need this one alive for information and supplies. I can’t let the idiot see any weaknesses.
“They work with the undercover special forces and techniques unit. Geumbanji vouches quite highly for them.” No need to explain the intricacies of the gold ring wearing mouse if he said his piece confidently enough. “Come, Soor-Hiran, we will speak business inside while your porters unload the minerals.” He needed as much of the An'obutaniumu as he could get his hands on.
In the back room, Commander Huinjogjebi leaned towards the deer, wielding a larger stack of paper money. The deer, calm and calculating, watched his other hand with the cane, as if he was going to use it as a weapon. “Have you managed to bring me any information on the Special Aide, as I have asked?”
The deer smiled, mildly sinister. “It is as you suspect. As the story goes, The Special Aide’s official records only go back as far as your ‘Operation: Mole,’ where he was first seen disguised as a Flower Hill squirrel for the failed infiltration mission. There are no records for this mouse beforehand, as there were for Mulmangcho. Next, after the battle, he took over for the deceased Guard Commander. And as you can see from these documents your Commander Jogjebi wrote, he is very clear that he knows that there was a scout sending information off to Flower Hill beforehand.”
The white weasel stiffened, shaking slightly. He could feel his throat constricting, threatening to send him into a coughing fit that would take minutes to stop, would make him look weak in front of the Wolf Commander and outsider. Behind a curtain, an exasperated wolf began to growl, slightly, at being conned. The documents were in Commander Jogjebi’s handwriting, written quickly, asking someone for aid in hunting down the scout. But there was no responding letter to be seen, almost as if it had been intercepted.
Notes:
An'obutaniumu is just Unobtainium in Japanese, I'm being lazy on that one point.
HELIOS and Block-I are actual laser weapons. The former is used by the US Navy, while the latter are used by Korea.
Chapter Text
Commanders Huinjogjebi and Seungnyangi poured over the documents, written in the previous commander’s distinctive handwriting, finished with his seal. The message was concise, to the point, asking for the Anti-Espionage Units of the Weasel Army to start a formal investigation into a possible leak of information, a possible scout embedded in the ranks that may tip off Flower Hill for the time and locations of their attack.
A second letter, behind the first, dated just hours after the failed attack, handwriting much sloppier, asking for assistance in routing out weasel and mouse traitors that may try to form coups during the chaos. Written as if the sender was in genuine fear for his life, either from the injuries received, or from paranoia over perceived enemies surrounding him. The wolf stared at the second document with suspicion, until Huinjogjebi was able to confirm that it was legitimate, but written after the unfortunate brain injury that had afflicted his comrade.
There was no letter of response hidden among the files, assuming there was one, but it must have been hard enough for the deer to have obtained copies of the others in such a short period of time.
Of course, that opened the question. Multiple field mice with bushy tails had been sent to Flower Hill for a short period of time, in order to spy on them to make sure they did not know about the upcoming attack. Most had been caught and executed by Flower Hill immediately, with only a few managing to return to the unit. Either the disguises had been terrible, or Flower Hill had known they were coming. Either way, it made perfect sense for Flower Hill to send back actual squirrels, disguised as the original field mice. Indeed, Geusmaegi’s records appeared to start directly after the failed operation. However, the original field mice were documented as having returned as well, albeit executed later for teaming up another weasel who was indeed planning a coup. Proven by none other than Geumsaegi and one other mouse not mentioned in the document.
Very suspicious.
“However,” Soor-Hiran continued, summarizing the documents, having been briefly ignored, “General Commander Jogjebi knew there was a scout before the attack, and sent off an urgent message to a facility with some very strange rules.” The deer produced another set of documents, a dossier of instructions from the Espionage/Anti-Espionage units that had not been under Aekku’s jurisdiction.
“The Anti-Espionage Unit of the Weasel Army does have a policy to erase the documents relating to its members, if they are assigned to a protection and investigation mission. It is only natural that General Commander Jogjebi would want to quickly raise up a special bodyguard to his side, although placing him there at the beginning would be quite suspicious, if not even possible, would it not?”
Both commanders shared a look of realization. If the current Chief of Staff had actually been a member of the Anti-Espionage unit, then his lack of records, identification, disappearances, and triumph over enemy coups, also made perfect sense. It would have meant that the mouse had been sent over during, if not directly after, Operation: Mole, in response to the pleas for protection and to root out traitors. Starting as Guard Commander, and then moving up to the Special Aide, where he was able to protect General Commander Jogjebi, all while serving as a hunting dog towards anyone who would try and take the position.
It was even possible, given how close the two had been, to the point that General Commander Jogjebi had been distraught over possibly losing the mouse when attacked for his necklace, that the mouse and weasel had known each other before the war, and the entire plan had already been formulated.
And if the Special Aide had been that close to the Commander, then it was no wonder he was so angry and aggressive towards anyone who might jeopardize the Weasel Unit. It was no wonder he wanted his own revenge on Flower Hill, as to heavily encourage the Wolf and Weasel Units to join, especially after his being ambushed had led to the near destruction of the unit once someone had wizened up to his abilities.
Huinjogjebi almost felt jealous.
The past few days have been very profitable, the deer pondered as their group left much later.
It had been tricky, completing both drop offs without being issue, and making sure the documents were written properly. Enough files had been destroyed in all of the attacks on the Weasel Unit that there was no real backing them up should a formal investigation be held, even if the seal supposedly proved legitimacy. But even they could tell that the camera pointed in their direction was actually down. Not a good look for a secure compound, but also likely to be fixed very soon once the wolves noticed nothing on the screen, especially as the annoying cranes climbed over the fence behind them in order to preach. It would not be good to make a scene.
It had been rather…interesting to see Geumbitdarami again, especially since he was no longer the village leader. But the deer guessed the squirrel must have felt the same emotions, looking at them with disbelief and sadness at first, someone whom he had considered a good friend delivering packages for the Weasel Unit, the enemy of Flower Hill. Soor-Hiran had made the first move, whispered hellos and clutching his hands to place their ID in the palms, at the same time shoving the hacking port with a greeting note into the middle. A brief moment of joy and elation flashed on the squirrel’s face as the items were moved into a pocket, and the two were back to pretending that they had never met. The disguised squirrel now had to pretend to be annoyed at the previous lack of information on outside sources he now had to account for in his duties.
Hopefully, the information he had spread to the wolf and weasel commanders would be as useful as the Flower Hill Commanders had said they would. None of it was a lie. The Anti-Espionage unit really did wipe records when assigning its members, although most had been wiped out as Scout Commander Aekku had considered them obstacles in his own endeavors. Commander Jogjebi had suspected a scout and written a letter reaching out the said unit for them to send someone to investigate, although it had been intercepted by Flower Hill, so nothing could be confirmed nor denied.
It is very useful that the rumor about Geumbitdarami being from either the Espionage and Anti-espionage units I spread amongst the weasels over a year ago continues to run strong. It would help their old friend’s cover continue. It was imperative for their own country’s safety, and their own continued business, that Flower Hill remain free.
Geumsaegi had encountered this problem before. As a mouse, without the immediate backup of a weasel superior, the predators only laughed at what they saw as a lesser species, hindering his process in trying to actually complete his job as Chief of Staff. The mice were only slightly more helpful, kowtowing to him out of respect for his position, but equally unable to assist with any answers. Well, Commander Huinjogjebi was relatively reasonable, and would not want to look bad in front of the wolves, so he could likely be counted on to give orders for his men to listen to his demands. It was not as if he could play the aggressive act in front of all of them. Even he did not have that amount of energy.
Not that he even had the time. The flight of the Iron Crows was fast approaching, and he made sure to keep the hacking device in his coat, ready to use should Flower Hill’s electronics backdoor plan fail.
The other problem annoying him was the food, once again. Raw. Half of the refrigerators and freezers were not even plugged in, or being used as anything other than shelves. Unsanitary, as the unclean and dirt covered wolves lurched back and forth through the kitchen, carrying electronics, lugging them up a stairway in the back. “Those fish could be full of parasites, you fool! Did you even research the area? Where is the manager?” Don’t you tell me…He already knew the answer as he said it.
“Our manager is currently in the hospital! But since you are the Chief of Staff, I guess I will have to take you to him as soon as possible, eh?”
Well, infiltrating the hospital was something he needed to do, anyway. I could kill Mulmangcho if I could access the hospital! He might even be able to see if Dr. Dudeoji was still alive, or if the incompetency in feeding prisoners extended to the weasels as well. “Yes, take me to the hospital and see what the manager has to say about your safety practices!”
But an aide appeared with the report that he was being called for by Commander Huinjogjebi, for the next meeting. It would have to be afterwards, then.
The war room was abuzz with the wolves fingering the controls of the Iron Crows, ready to begin, as soon as the rains let up. Geumsaegi pretended to match their energy, noticing that the chatter suggested more of an interest in the upcoming slaughter than anything that came after, especially after the humiliation of the past few days. And now, and chance to redeem themselves. What a weapon in the hands of such barbarians! We will fix them soon!
He moved to stand next to the two commanders in the war room, who sat ready to prepare for the mission to start. Geumsaegi inspected the darkened control panel of the mainframe computer, waiting for them to turn it on so Flower Hill could gain access to the signal for the Iron Crows. He turned to give one of the reptilian aides a questioning look, gesturing at the device. The aide blinked, sideways instead of the regular up and down, and then moved to turn it on. Geumsaegi was not sure if it was supposed to be an insult towards his stature. He would have to watch the alligators and crocodiles in the unit more closely.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Huinjogjebi waved a hand as one of his own aides brought him some coffee.
The wolf commander cocked his ear, head tilting and eyes narrowing. Suspecting a trick, he released the strap for his gun. “And why would that be?” Officer Yeou asked. Assistant Jogjebi, however, grinned slightly as if he knew. Both moved backwards slightly in order to provide firing room.
“The Iron Crow is one of the most ultimate weapons I have created, alongside the Sturgeons. The crows are meant to be quick and hit hard, and I cannot have any mistakes. Since they are remote, and will be flying away from us, there is a small chance of Flower Hill hacking the mainframe of the base as a whole, but that would only happen if there was a scout in the base. So, I left a backdoor open, disguised as a weak point in the firewall security.”
Shit. Geumsaegi smiled, nodding along. Commander Seungnyangi and Officer Yeou appeared confused.
“So, instead of the regular mainframe, I am using an IMSI Cell-site simulator, otherwise known as a Stingray. Instead of connecting to the regular signal tower, the Iron Crows are programmed to connect to the Stingray device mainframe, while it temporarily works as a legitimate cell tower, and we can use it to pilot the weapons from there. At the same time, the Stingray is designed to intercept electronic traffic in the area and retrieve all data from the source. So, if Flower Hill tries to hack or infiltrate into our regular mainframe with the Iron Crows are active, we will be able to access their own mainframes for our own usage, and they will be none the wiser.”
What a terrible plan he has concocted! Who knows what information he could pick up before the Commanders realize that they are being attacked and disconnect! But it was not time to panic. He had the portable hacking device as a backup, so all he needed to do was find the tower controlling the Stingrays and plug it in.
The wolf commander interjected, “Ah. So that is why you had my wolves carry those towers into -”
“Yes, it is. And that is also why security has been buffed around the medical ward, to protect the device from other infiltration. Surely, if your wolves set it up properly, on the proper electrical grid, they should be safe.”
He’s bluffing, Geumsaegi realized. The increased security around the hospital really is a trick, and the Stingray is in the upper floors of the mess hall. That must be why the wolves were carrying them all over the place! “What a clever plan, sir! What should we do while we wait?”
The weasel shifted in annoyance. “This operation will be turned over to the wolves, to be enacted at noon.”
The head cook waved him over as he left the Command Center. “You, sir!” The weasel saluted reluctantly. “I have ordered the manager of the café to resume his duties from his bed, regardless of his state of mind from the drugs he is on!” Disrespectful, but at least he was doing as commanded, even if Geumsaegi did not actually want Mulmangcho to be released. But, at the very least, he did not want to be poisoned by bad food, and Mulmangcho appeared to share in that idea, at least.
Mulmangcho did not appear pleased to see him, but he did not appear displeased. Simply relaxed under the medication, eyes wide, barely able to stand, staring blankly out the window that offered a view of the checkpoint at the entrance of the compound. At least he cannot cause any trouble like this. Although, he would not be able to kill him, not just yet, not when he was being watched by guards. The mouse moved to stand, confused, as if to salute, not fully seeing the person in front of him other than the uniform of a superior. He staggered, briefly slamming into Geumsaegi, before the disguised squirrel shoved him back onto the bed, where he sat, blinking in confusion.
The head cook snickered, and then moved forward. “So, manager, we have a question. What should we do with all the yummy fish we have prepared? Should we eat fresh it as is, or cook it, as the Chief of Staff says?”
Mulmangcho’s eyes flashed in understanding under the fog, as if beginning to snap out of something. “Are- are you a complete idiot? Ob-obviously you cook the fish. Cook it well. Cook it very well! Don’t serve raw fish! Not unless it is su-sussh- that special grade…” The chef appeared displeased as the mouse doctor took his turn to snicker, clearly agreeing with the idea of cooking food. He seemed to have some education, at least.
As Geumsaegi left the room, he noticed out of the corner of his eye as Mulmangcho turned to glare at him, eyes clear and not at all as if he had been drugged. Whirling around, he found the bespectacled mouse still staring at the far window, but Oegwipali glaring instead, who turned to look away. He knew better, in his perilous position, to try anything.
Glad as he was that the food was now cooked, Geumsaegi was still annoyed at the amount of salt on the deep-fried food later found in the mess hall. At least the wolves loved it.
Hours before the beginning of the operation, as the rains began to lessen, private meetings were held between commanders and trusted staff. “How are you doing with your duties as Chief of Staff? Are you having any problems?” Cordial, but it was unlikely that even the white weasel could have missed the hostility from the troops.
“They are…less than compliant, I am afraid.” The white weasel nodded to a few of his guards, who left the room. He supposed that they were going to instill some terror into the troops.
“Well, the list you have up so far shows some progress, and does match up with the previous list… have you noticed any other problems around the base?”
Geumsaegi knew it was just a formality, that the weasel wanted to get this part of the job over and done with so he could get back to watching the iron crows destroy his hometown. Well, that was fine. If the issues had had seen were brought up now, then he could find an excuse to be nowhere near the Stingray towers after they were hacked. He could feel the weight of the device in his pocket.
“The propane tanks across the base are too close to the buildings. Typically, they should be five to ten feet away from a wall, not up against it, because if one exploded at that distance due to poor maintenance or a single spark, it could take out a whole building. I worry about the way the power grid is wired. It appears as if the whole system will blow or trip if we are not careful, or if too many appliances are turned on, although the officers sections appear to be less likely to blow as a whole,” he only had to start the sentence to know what the weasel would not care about the lower ranks losing power. “So that is something we will have to watch out for.”
“The mess hall continues to make very strange decisions with food, regardless of proper safety, but they do wash the dishes properly with hot water and soap. The cameras at the entrance of the base are down, and the guards are less than attentive. That deer stood outside the guard house for a few minutes before I walked over and knocked on the door. We are lucky, with that, especially considering you have a few crane visitors that came for business with you soon after that simply walked on through.”
“Oh, the White-Naped Cranes?” Dr. Huinjogjebi waved his hand dismissively. “They are simply here to get out of the rain while they travel, or most likely using the rain as an excuse to preach to us again. As if any of us need shamans or religion to tell us that we are superior than those Flower Hill idiots.”
Geumsaegi nodded along to the conversation, knowing that almost none of his complaints would go through, unlike with Jogjebi. Which was fine, perhaps. Good to know that the cranes are encouraging the weasels to try and take over Flower Hill. Unhasu will be interested to know about this. He had never liked it when the cranes came to preach at Squirrel Village. They always tended to be disruptive, demanding luxuries and distracting workers. Once, he had overheard a crane muttering about how the squirrels ‘knew their place,’ and with Scout Gosemdochi’s advice, had not invited them back himself.
If the wolves and weasels were trying to hide their excitement to outsiders that something big was about to happen, they were failing. Anyone hiding outside of the compound could have easily seen the energy. It took both the efforts of Geumsaegi’s threats and the vixen’s wiles to prevent and break up fights that occurred in the heat of moments, a bad sign of what was to come if they were not as vigilant as they were during an operation.
Come noon, however, the rains had fully stopped and everyone was in place. The wolves in the command center with the controls, weasels doing whatever their assigned jobs were to make it appear as if everything was running smoothly. A poor job of it, considering the sudden halving of the visible wolf population would be quite noticeable. The wolves that were not part of the operation had been ordered to stay out of sight. Geumsaegi followed and watched as a few of them snuck away to remote corners, or inside jeeps, and pulled out familiar looking canisters of gas. So, this is going to be a problem down the line…However, it did appear as if Officer Yeou was beginning to take notice, pawing through a list of supplies.
But it was a problem he would have to work out later. It was easy enough to sneak into the mess hall and ascend to the upper floor, where the computers were. On the landing, Geusmaegi hid behind a pillar. He would not be able to stop the beginning of the operation. That would be too suspicious. He would have to risk the Stingrays reverse hacking into Flower Hill, and hope that they did not get enough information to be useful. Besides, the Commanders were smart enough to set up a relay system to watch for the Iron Crows until they were closer to his hometown before beginning to hack the computers. If the machines were too close to the Weasel’s base, then there was a danger of them being blown up so that Flower Hill did not acquire them after taking control. No, they would have to be closer. So, he had to wait.
Calmly, he moved out slightly, and tossed a pen to lure out any guards. A wolf moved forward, sleepy, as if he had just been woken up. the squirrel moved, spaying a narcotic mist into the wolf’s face before he could register movement next to him. The brute collapsed. Carefully, Geusmaegi snuck forward, finding the other wolf guards asleep. He drugged them as well, noticing that the entire group would be the only ones who would know the Stingrays would be in the mess hall, and not the hospital.
Now, he was alone with the Stingray device that would allow for him to control the Iron Crows. He stared at the devices, ugly and blinking back at him in hatred. A testament to the cruelty and craftiness of the enemy, a statement of what they wanted to do to his beloved countrymen. Well, no other guards in the room. No windows, no cameras, no hidden sliding doors in the walls or ceiling to shut behind him if it was a trap.
He moved to the port on the middle of the device, seeing how the stick would easily fit in, so he could utilize it in a an hour or so when it was the proper time.
Geumsaegi pulled out the cloth hiding the hacking device, unwrapping it to reveal a rectal thermometer instead of the intended item. Panic, a dawning sense of horror as the squirrel desperately checked his pockets again, finding nothing, remembering the positioning of a specific window...
MULMANGCHO!
Notes:
IMSI Cell-site simulator Stingrays are also a real thing. They don't completely work like this, but this is a work of fiction, and it is logical for it to work this way in canon, I would think.
Chapter 5: Dances With Wolves
Summary:
With the countermeasures Flower Hill prepared for the Iron Crows a complete failure, Geumsaegi is left scrambling to both find a way to stop the slaughter of his countrymen, while also keeping his cover as a member of the Weasel-Wolf Unit Army.
Notes:
Ok, let's not do cliffhangers again. That was completely exhausting, since then I have to write the next chapter along with it. This one ends normally.
I honestly don't know if I should be using Alligators or Crocodiles. The wikia says crocodiles, but alligators fit the American vibe I have going on with the wolves...But, the habitats do overlap, so maybe both.
Chapter Text
Geumsaegi slammed his fist against the floor, then stuffed it in his mouth to stifle his screams of rage, breathing heavily. Momentarily, he drew his gun, pointing at the towers, possibly to end it another way. It’s gone! I know Mulmangcho took it! He must have been faking being drugged, and watched me acquire the stick from the window! The enemy will hack into our mainframe, and learn our secrets, and it will be my fault for not being more alert! Once again, he was endangering his own loved ones by failing to kill one single mouse.
“Shit! You bastards!” he wanted to scream louder, much louder, but even with the drugs, the wolves might wake up and catch him, ruining his mission. No, there has to be a way to stop this! There has to be hope!
Turning, he caught sight of the power outlet where the Stingray was plugged in. He could unplug it, and then the wolves would lose control of their weapons…No! I can’t! That would be too suspicious, even if it happened midway through the mission! Plus, far too much of an easy fix. An unplugged device would be explained away as a careless accident, but with all of the wolves lying unconscious outside the door, and his own whereabouts unaccounted for…
No, he holstered his gun. There was still a chance for him, for Flower Hill, for his task to succeed. Everyone back home was counting on him to defeat the enemies.
Quickly, he moved downstairs, past the wolves laying sprawled out and snoring on the floor. In the kitchen, staff away taking the time to relax, he took a look at the massive refrigerators sitting unplugged on the walls, and then at the dingy delivery trucks that had pulled up a few hours earlier. Their tires could do with some refilling. Refilling tires with air took up quite a bit of electricity. Geumsaegi turned, pulling out his supply bag, and removed the bag of magnets he had obtained from the underground cavern at the wolves’ base before. This could work as well!
Plugging in the freezers, microwaves, and refrigerators was easy enough, as was turning them on, but also led to his realization that the weasels may have seen such a menial task as beneath themselves, and did not bother to tell the mice, assuming they would know what they wanted. Either way, they sure took up a lot of electricity.
He moved outside, to where all the delivery drivers, a mix of weasels and mice, were waiting for orders, separated by species, having been left alone for hours. He whistled rudely to get their attention, snapping his fingers.
“Alright! Get that food into the fridges and freezers immediately!” The groups jumped to attention, quickly beginning to work, grumbling.
“And once you are finished, use the air pumps to fill up your tires! No need for accidents on the roads! After that, fix yourselves something to eat using the microwaves. I don’t know why you were left out here for so long! And once you are done there, turn on the electricity for that barracks over there!” He pointed at one of the spare barracks, one that shared an electrical circuit with the mess hall, but also one where the species could separate themselves if they wanted. “You can stay there for the night! I want all the lights turned on so I can check for dirt and contraband later!”
The drivers, originally disgruntled over the rude treatment of having been left waiting for so long, by a mouse of all species, and then given a series of orders, had become more and more pleased as he went on. A chance to fix their trucks, the luxury of a warm meal, and the privilege to use a spare barracks instead of their own cabs. Plus, a warning to keep any contraband they may have on them in their trucks, instead of a surprise inspection that could get them in trouble.
Jovially, the weasels and mice unloaded the trucks full of fish, and, to a lesser extent, vegetables, and began to fill the kitchen. It was not long until they found the magnets, sticking them to the metal surfaces, trying to spell out vulgar words and phrases when they thought he was not looking.
“What is wrong with this refrigerator?” he demanded offhandedly, as the magnets kept falling down from one.
“Sir! I don’t know, sir!” the mice standing next to it were baffled, mildly concerned that they were doing something wrong. Granted, while not all refrigerators in the world were made to be magnetic, it actually was strange for one or two out of the bunch to be a different type. That is certainly not regulation for around here. I will have to keep that in mind.
He smiled, shaking his head, playing benevolent to the mice he might be able to use later. “Do not worry about it. It is something I should be looking into, if it is not up to Weasel Unit standards.” Finding the work order and delivery forms for each of the fridges would be a good alibi.
It was quick work to find the forms in a filing cabinet in the secretary division. Reading through them, he could already tell that the make and model of some of the reported devices did not match up with what was currently in the dining hall. The reports did not say if they were stored anywhere on base, other than a few backups. But it was easy to notice that the more expensive freezers had been switched out with much cheaper models. Is someone pocketing the difference? It was something he would have to bring up.
He had a few of the mice girls make a copy of the files and his report, and place it into a file for him. They complied, quickly, flirtatiously. He was not sure if he could get used to such brash and forward behavior, quite unlike the proper behavior of the girls back home. The mice seemed to notice his disinterest, dropping the acts and getting the work done much faster than normal. It was the same scenario Geumsaegi had been through many times when he was still working under General Commander Jogjebi. He had even bothered to ask them to act normal a few times, so they could get things done. Strangely, it made then all the more willing to do things for him, which was easy to exploit.
How exactly the male mice and weasels could possibly think the flirtatious act was real for every one of them was proof of the enemy’s sheer stupidity on such matter. The sheer idea that they could think that his decent countrymen would fall in line in such a way filled him with appalled disgust, and a renewed will for revenge for everything they had done.
Leaving the secretary office, Geumsaegi was shocked to recognize one of the guards outside. A very familiar mouse, one he had not seen since Aekku and Mulmangcho had arrested him at Mount Rock, when they had managed to figure out that he was a scout for Flower Hill. The last he had seen of the guard, the mouse had been shot and collapsed, and he and the weasels had been forced to leave him behind without checking his status. Well, unlike most of the weasel leaders, he had integrity, and had bothered to tell Commander Jogjebi that the mouse had taken a bullet for him, so when the clean up crew was sent in, to at least not disgrace the body.
Well, the last few times he had called for Mulmangcho’s execution, the wolf and weasel commander had acted rather strange, as if it was a bother. So, maybe, it was best to not suggest it for now, and find a way to assassinate him later. The mouse guard would be an excellent pawn.
Of course, it was not the idea for a higher up in the Weasel Unit to acknowledge the efforts of a mouse. He most certainly could not be caught speaking to one on friendly terms. No, that would be seen as beneath his station as Chief of Staff.
“Oh, good! You survived the incident on Mount Rock.” His acknowledgement here would be considered a massive compliment as it was, and he could see the guard’s eyes start to boggle in happiness, since even being acknowledged in that way could mean special favors.
Gross. But that meant he was usable. “I have a special assignment for you after today. I want you to guard Mulmangcho, and make sure he doesn’t get into any further trouble.”
“Sir! Understood Sir!” The mouse responded, surprise and righteous fury flashing through his eyes. Naturally, after his treatment at Mount Rock and being accused of being a traitor, the guard would be holding a grudge against Mulamngcho, and not let him get away with anything. There was also the acknowledgement that it was possible that Geumsaegi could assassinate the bespectacled mouse in front of said guard, who would not report or say anything.
Geumsaegi smiled, and moved on to a nearby aide, one that he knew Huinjogjebi would not execute on the spot for bringing him bad news, pointedly ignoring the White-Naped crane attempting to preach humility and servitude on a nearby crate, annoyed at the lack of reverence from the onlookers going about their duties. He handed the aide his report about the switched-out fridges, and sent him on his way.
Hiding behind the command center, he heard the yelps and panicked whispers as the turning on of the spare barracks did its job to the power grid, plunging the area into darkness, and turning the Stingrays off.
“It’s gone!”
“We can’t control them anymore!”
“Don’t worry, they are just gliding for now, we can get them back online once we turn the Stingrays back on!” A group of wolves sprinted towards the medical ward, which had switched to emergency generator power. So, they didn’t even know, either… all the better for him. It appeared as if the Commanders were enjoying a meal in another room, and the wolves did not want to disturb them, so there was some extra time. But there was still one more question…
“What about the data from Flower Hill?”
“That was saved on the Stingrays! It’s gone now, but if we get them up in time and Flower Hill is still trying to hack the Iron Crows, then we can get it all back!” It was all he wanted to hear.
Sprinting in the shadows of the buildings, he quickly ran to the electrical breakers in the power building, ignoring the confusion above him as the inhabitants searched for the flashlight Geumsaegi had taken when he left the mess hall. Then, the control panel. Bunker power, air fill stations, power wash, lights. He did not flip the switch for the upper floor of the mess hall. The Stingrays would stay turned off, preventing the Wolf or Weasel Unit from accessing their dreadful weapons until it was too late, all while the rest of the lights being on would give the vision that everything else was working perfectly. He emerged from the underground doors quietly and snuck away, returning the flashlight. Only the Commanders would know which breaker to flip, and it would take them quite a while to reach the room while they struggled on their canes.
But where to go next, to provide an alibi now? Quite possibly, back to the secretary facility, to search for any other discrepancies in deliveries and equipment. That would be good. And also, his job, after all. Especially since he had sent in a preliminary report.
He moved across to the offices, passing in front of a group of wolves not involved in the operation. They appeared somewhat wired, but not from any drugs, scoping out anyone who passed by, possibly for a fight. He ignored them.
A whistle sounded as he passed by, low and lewd. “Damn. I see now why the previous weasel leader kept you around! You got that nice looking backside.”
Shit
“How about a spin with us, perhaps? Take a real male before the old decrepit one has his way with you.”
Well, the best way to deal with behavior with this would be to act strange in response…
Geumsaegi turned, glancing up and down at the wolf. “Ooooooh, he angry!” they howled.
“Now pups. I am fairly certain that there is a size issue here.”
“Awwww, we can make it fit!”
He looked up, staring directly into the faces of the wolves. “Oh, I am quite sure. But if I am having some fun, I really would like to be able to feel something up there, at least…”
Dead silence as wolf ears pinned themselves back, tails drooped. And then the dam burst, howls and screams of laughter filling the compounds, big gnarly hands clapping his shoulder in decided friendship. Geumsaegi had expected this result, the idiots.
The rain clouds cleared, slight breeze ruffling what patches of green grass still remained in the compound.
The wolves were holding a splashing party, not caring about the condition their uniforms could get into. Apparently, the name of the game was to stand at the edge of the biggest puddle, and use various vehicles to compete to see who could provide the biggest splash of water. It was probably for the best if he played along. If he gained the respect of the wolves, they might accidentally let information slip around him. Plus, if Commander Seungnyangi played any more loyalty mind games, and brought the wolves into it, they might be reluctant and let slip how he was supposed to act if he was innocent.
And besides, why not? He had time. It was a beautiful day, blue sky, green grass, warm breeze. Flower Hill was safe, for now, as he had foiled the enemy’s plans. He needed to get into the good graces of the wolves, anyway. And besides, he actually was an expert in vehicles. He knew how to create a large splash from a puddle using evasive maneuvers.
It had been so long since Geumsaegi had been able to laugh. Actually laugh, not that fake laughter he used to stall for time and catch everyone off guard.
The ‘technique’ the wolves used had been interesting to watch. Just simply driving through the puddles at a high speed. The golden squirrel was more surprised at the lack of accidents he would have expected. He sat behind the wheel of a jeep, smiling, humming Flower Hill songs softly to himself so no one else would hear, laughing and cheering when the wolves laughed and cheered.
He couldn’t wait for these barbarians to suffer the same end as most of the weasels.
When it was his turn, he drove head on, careening across the field they were using, feeling the wind in his tail and against his helmet. He reached the puddle, turning to expertly hydroplane in order to completely douse the waiting wolves. Again, silence for a moment, and then the wolves’ cheering became a crescendo of happy screams.
The wolves lifted his jeep in their strong arms, hefting it up and throwing it slightly into the air in fevered celebration, forcing Geumsaegi to rock back and forth in his seat. He would have to do it again. Excitement increased, as he began to look forward to it himself. He did not even mind when he began to hear his own cheers mixing and rising above the wolves.
He wished he could have shared the moment with Juldarami. He would have laughed so hard, either from watching or from riding with him…
An explosion rocked the compound, ending the festivities.
Well, it was not as if he had not warned Commander Huinjogjebi about the positions of the propane tanks being set up too closely to the buildings. Luckily, it was just a storage shed where they kept the sweets making equipment. It was not as if they needed any of that to survive. The weasels and wolves could go without as much as they complained about it, and it was a luxury barely afforded to mice anyway. The fire was not spreading, thanks to the lack of grass, but that was the least of the issues.
The Commanders stood in the open, enraged, nearly shaking. The wolf did not notice as Commander Huinjogjebi briefly broke into coughing spasms, his guards quickly massaging his back for a movement. There was a sense of absolute panic that radiated from the entire group, as if something was unraveling. Geumsaegi drove over to join the group. “Commanders! What has happened?” Both turned to look at him pull up in the jeep, surrounded by and followed by sopping wet wolves covered in mud. He jumped out of his vehicle, saluting, turning to look.
“And that is what will happen to the world if you do not listen to us!” A White-Naped Crane stood nearby, yelling at the commanders, brandishing a stick of dynamite. “You must let us back in to lead you as we have done so in the past! Otherwise, all your plans shall fail!” Geumsaegi whistled, gesturing, and mice and weasels moved forward to arrest the bird as he yelled. Glints of light flashed all around.
Commander Huinjogjebi moved to pull Geumsaegi away from the muttering crowd. “The plan with the Iron Crows was a disaster. I should have known better than to leave it to a bunch of idiotic wolves! Dr. Dudeoji won't wake up, either! They may have overdosed him for the trip. We will have to use my other projects to conquer Flower Hill, and the crocodiles and alligators to scout underwa-”
Geumsaegi swept the old weasel’s leg out from under him, forcing him to drop his cane, partially dragging him away from the group and towards a deserted corner. Huinjogjebi instantly resisted, earning a slap and punch to the head and Geumsaegi desperately tried to regain control, reaching for his gun. But the weasel was still larger, quickly forcing himself on top and pinning a gun to the disguised squirrel’s head staring into the slightly panicked brown eyes. “I should have fucking known you were a traitor all along.” A gunshot hit the dirt near Geumsaegi’s ear as he flinched, Huinjogjebi pausing in surprise. Distracted by the fire around the shed, no one else seemed to see the danger…
“Sir! Get down! Get the fuck down!” the squirrel moved again, screaming desperately, shoving the taller figure away and covering his head and chest with his own body, continuing to fumble for his own gun as bullet holes in the dirt grew closer and closer…
It was Commander Seungnyangi who shot the weasel traitor dead, moments before Geusmaegi could pull the trigger himself.
“And you just let it happen? Without checking the safeguards beforehand? And how could you let the Iron Crows just crash out there?” Geumsaegi pretended to be appalled and enraged by the loss of the Iron Crow. Both Commanders appeared exhausted, Officer Yeou barely able to keep her charge calm.
There was silence. And uncomfortable silence. And then finally.
“Chief of Staff. You have been very astute in point out everything that has been going wrong today.” Oh no…this could not be good. He might have gone too far, missed a loyalty test due to his own high emotions and confusion over his body's decision to serve as a living shield for the old white weasel.
“The lack of security. Spoiled food. Disobedience and slovenly behavior of the soldiers. Broken cameras. Electrical issues. Medical supplies going missing. Not to mention something went wrong, and Dr. Dudeoji is impossible to wake up. Possible assassination attempts and traitors. The traitors especially, that used to be your job, didn’t it?”
“Yes, sir…”
“Today has proven that there are indeed people after my life, as I am the General Commander, and they aim for control of the Weasel Unit. I need someone who can guard me better, look into these assassination and espionage attempts to protect me. Commander Jogjebi had the right idea. Instead of Chief of Staff, I am moving you back into your old position of Special Aide. I need you close by my side, as my right hand individual, to watch over me and the Unit as you had in the past.”
Never mind this not being good, this was fantastic! “It is all I could possibly ask for, as my role in the Weasel Unit!” He lunged forward, gently touching the White Weasel’s hands. “I promise to protect and serve you the best I can.”
Silence for a moment, and then Commander Seungnyangi ruined the mood. “I believe you said that you have a facility to mine more of this An'obutaniumu mineral to remake the Iron Crows?”
“Yes…however, that poses a new problem. I was using Soor-Hiran yesterday because the facility refuses to send any trucks out. I am suspecting that they may be thinking about breaking away, or demanding more money. Special Aide! My first assignment for you if to go out to this facility in disguise as a negotiator and inspector. See what they want, and try to convince them to fall back in line. Take Mulmangcho and Oegwipali with you to serve as ‘examples,’ on what will happen if they do not comply. But make sure not to kill them if they do comply They are further away and will be need to be shown that we are reasonable…you leave tomorrow!”
“Sir, of course Commander!” This mission could possibly take him further away from his beloved hometown, but surely Flower Hill would know about any facility the Weasel Unit had for mining An'obutaniumu. He could count on them to keep in contact.
Chapter 6: Crashing Down
Summary:
With no connection to their controllers, the Iron Crows come crashing down into Flower Hill, resulting in a race to study the materials within. Meanwhile, a distress signal further burdens the overtaxed Commander Huinjogjebi, while Geumsaegi seeks and opportunity to get rid of his rival once and for all.
Notes:
Honestly, to avoid spoilers, I'm going to put most of the notes at the end for these two chapters.
I gave in and decided to use the AU countries, since no one is stopping me. Chambelli Koh might be around where India is? But it is a much smaller country, so maybe I'll have to make Chaand Hadia larger.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Surrounded by hills and nearly sheer rock face mountains, the village of Dol Jogagga was naturally protected on all sides from ground assaults. Traversing the area on foot or vehicle would have been extremely difficult, were it not for the stair cases and small paths carved out of the mountainside by the goats, carefully planned to be as defensible as possible, complete with lookouts and guides. Their necessarily learned stone cutting techniques had become quite famous around Flower Hill, and the village’s carved statues were gaining popularity even outside the country, as well as their classes for teaching the craft to visiting students and apprentices.
The river that emerged from one mountain, only to disappear into another mountain, not only provided a large and steady source of electricity thanks to the water mill generators and batteries, but also helped protect against invaders. The few bridges were all heavily guarded, and could be violently dismantled at a moment's notice, almost making the area a stronghold.
It was, however, quite vulnerable to surprises from the sky. Water and snow could easily be dealt with by carving small trenches to lead the rivulets into safer areas, or the fields and wells, or even out of the valley via the river.
Overhead attacks from actively hostile entities were a different matter. Never mind planes, it was possible for crows dropping bombs from the air to decimate the houses and fields, if the right area was hit.
As a result, when the Commanders had arrived at the beginning of the war to suggest that they move for their own safety, they had already known of the possibility. It was easy enough to strengthen the already existing air defenses with more advanced weaponry. Over the course of generations, the goats had already carved out deep underground bomb shelters in preparation for an attack they knew must come eventually, given their location and geography in what was essentially a bowl with extremely fertile soil.
Which meant the village's coordinates was an acceptable target for Geumsaegi to provide to General Commander Jogjebi for the Toadstool Bombs, and later, the Iron Crows. The villagers, with enough warning, had one of the highest possibilities of surviving such attacks if he or Flower Hill were unable to prevent the Weasel’s plans.
The alarms rang about mid-day, which was a surprise to the population that still expected night attacks. Luckily, there were only a few school children in the village visiting to study the science and strategies behind stairway rock carving techniques, so they were easily rounded up and herded into the nearest bunker alongside the other residents. Two of the students, a raccoon dog and a cat, wandered in fascination at the carving of the underground space and how it was built without affecting the structures above it, while the third, a bear cub, muttered and paced in angry nervousness, occasionally shadowboxing in alarm.
But the attacks never came, as the uncontrolled planes roaring overhead instead came to crash somewhere in the mountains above the village. If anything, or anyone, parachuted out of them beforehand, it was up to the quickly arriving soldiers to figure out. The rest of the village would remain on high alert, thankful that no bombs had been dropped.
Commanders Darami and Goseumdochi’s day was only going to get busier. Their Scout, Geumsaegi had informed them via auxiliary relay of the Stingray’s failed attempt to reverse hack their own databases, which meant they needed to investigate their data to make sure nothing had been stolen or stored. Perhaps change a few written and verbal passwords and codes for the more vulnerable, less password protected areas, just in case. Not much had been taken from the Weasel database in return, but considering the threat, they had avoided a worst-case scenario on data leakage. The two had congratulated Geumsaegi on his return to the coveted and information rich position of Special Aide, but were forced to warn him of the new, pressing issue.
“If you are being sent out to this new remote outpost early tomorrow, there is no time for us to prepare any backup for you on such short notice. We reccomend that you request your target to wait a day in order to prepare,” Commander Goseumdochi suggested, as Commander Darami mentally went through his list of agents that could be moved quickly. There was the auxiliary duck and hedgehog entrenched near the weasel and wolf base, but they would need replacements for them first. Surely, Geumsaegi would prefer Juldarami, but the striped squirrel still needed another week to recover.
“I believe that I should be find to carry out my duty, Sirs. The Porasu Base, as Commander Huinjogjebi has named it, is located in one of the occupied regions of Chambelli Koh, so I should be able to find assistance in some of the locals should the situation call for it.” It was a risk, assuming the locals would assist him in a desperate situation, even if the country had a long-term friendship with Flower Hill despite Usuhan Jiyeog taking a few of its coastal areas. He knew some of them could have accepted the new leadership, and so did the Commanders. But he had a task to perform. It was imperative that he visit the base, to determine its supply of An'obutaniumu that could be used to make more of the dreadful weapons and their fuel. He had to do it, for Bamsaegi, for Juldarami. I wish I could have had the time to speak to them again. The auxiliary hedgehog had rubbed his back as he sniffled after the call, a calming gesture for sure, but he was no Scout Goseumdochi. Besides, this had been an emergency. With no other backup, and very limited time, he had been forced to risk leaving the base for a short period to send the message. It was unlikely that he would see them again.
The commanders had acquiesced, with a promise to send backup to the area as soon as possible. If time had not been an issue in the meeting, they could have patched Juldarami into the call in order to deliver motivation. Although, judging by the soft sigh they could hear, the photo they had sent the auxiliary group beforehand was motivation enough. It was a simple picture, of Juldarami sitting up in a hospital bed, laughing next to Bamsaegi. But it was enough to encourage bravery in their scout, remind him of what was at stake if he was not careful, and made brash decisions against his better judgement.
Once the call was over, it was imperative to remove the wreckage of the Iron Crows from the mountainside. As thick and dense as the trees were, there was always a possibility of a small contingent of Weasel Unit soldiers sneaking in to try and retrieve their weapons, or attacking anyone who found it. For the most part, the strong hulls were intact, while the limbs and wings were scattered over the area. Hopefully, there had not been a lot of damage to the lasers inside.
The three visiting children inspecting the debris were a surprise, and perhaps a complication, taking instant camera photos and drawing in a notebook. Clearly, they had rushed up the mountainside to see the wreckage as soon as they were let out of the shelter. Foolhardy, for sure, but they were young. They were also some of Flower Hill’s best students, so it might be strategic to allow them to watch and investigate for a short time, at least.
The cat turned to their companion, appearing deep in thought as the bear cub stared into the extended tunnel in the bird’s stomach compartment. The cub turned and backed away as a strange liquid began to drip down the tube, dodging the Flower Hill soldiers as they ran to stem the flow and collect the liquid before it contaminated the soil. “But Neoguri, surely the laser canon would produce a large amount of kickback, which would throw off its aim?”
Notebook in hand, with multiple instant photos already taped to pages, the raccoon dog shook his head. “It appears they have accounted for that, Yaong-i. Look at the top of the body, they have extra thrusters! If the laser and the thrusters activated at the same time, then perhaps the forces would cancel each other out!”
“Wouldn’t that compress the machine’s insides and destroy it, though?”
“Not if the body of the drone is flexible enough. Look at the position of the joints! They appear to be designed with stretching and compression in mind.”
“Perhaps if they activated slowly enough, it wouldn’t be torn apart by the sudden jolts…” the bear cub muttered.
“Now that’s an idea, Gom!” Neoguri chimed in excitement.
Commander Goseumdochi turned, glancing at the hedgehog sniper a little further up the hill, gun and camera pointed directly at the notebook, taking photos. Should we let him keep the notebook with the photos? Taking it from him for security purposes might discourage him, but could also make him more interested. He shared a look with Commander Darami, who had also been staring grimly at the notebook.
The bear cub, the only one of the three mildly concerned about the fact that the weapons his companions were gushing about were intended to be used on them, noticed the pair having a silent discussion and laughed nervously. “Those two, they sure do love to study!”
So let him keep it, then, to get him more interested, the two commanders silently agreed. Besides, they could have agents follow the trio for a few months to see if anyone appeared to try and steal the notebook for the designs of the weapon. Not that they wanted to use pups as bait, but these three in particular were known to be very resourceful, at the very least, and the bear cub was excellent at defending the other two. They signaled for the workers to start loading the wreckage onto the trucks before any of the fuel managed to escape. A duck had mentioned more rain in the forecast, and it was imperative to remove the evidence any An'obutaniumu before it was washed away and lost to them. They would have to blow up part of the area to make it appear to the enemy as if the machines had been fully destroyed.
Deeper in the forest, a mouse once again raised his binoculars, focusing his camera on the notebook held by the raccoon dog. Too far away. There was no way to get closer, not with the soldiers around. But he could only imagine the rewards he would receive if he could take the notebook and photos back to his boss. Much easier than sneaking into one of Commander Huinjogjebi's bases to find his documents and schematics on the weapons. He aimed the camera at the raccoon dog’s face. Click. Well, the risk of sneaking into Flower Hill could be worth the reward. I know someone I can talk into letting me use their house as a safe base...
Commander Huinjogjebi slowly paced around the room, deep in thought, before a coughing fit forced him to sit in his chair with the help of his guards. He had multiple, very pressing, problems at hand. The assassination attempt had been a surprise, and the weasel had likely been part of a group. Possibly just a remnant of the now deceased Chief of Staff’s failed coup, but one could never be too certain. He regretted having the leisure base for the upper brass further away on the water, away from the main facility. Sure, it curried favor with the commanders when they went to relax away from the general troops, but it was so much harder to monitor conversations.
His new Special Aide had guessed at the problem right away, seeking out the group most likely to try and sow further disorder, and immediately bugging them to record their conversations. He IS a clever one. No wonder Commander Jogjebi valued him so. Well, he is mine now, for my own benefit. And to think, he had nearly dismissed him. At least the wolves were now watching the movements of all the weasels and mice around them, deterring any more attempts.
Of course, now he needed to know exactly how deeply involved the former commander and his Special Aide had been together, and in what way. The Sturgeon Robots were weapons that had to be kept secret, forcing him to stay away from his commander for long lengths of time. It was common enough for weasels in Commander Jogjebi’s position to keep a favorite mouse by their side, casual tradition even, so he could not fault him for that. But this mouse had been far too loyal to the commanding weasel for it to have simply been his mission to protect him, or even a loyalty born from the devotion to one who recognized his intelligence. No, either the mouse had to have some deeper feelings, or there were ulterior motives, possibly those of a scout using his wiles to get closer to needed information. The Special Aide had been gifted quite a few expensive gifts from Commander Jogjebi. Huinjogjebi knew from his own experience that expensive gifts, such as an entire ocean base, or the missile proof car given to the mouse, were proof of Commander Jogjebi trusting and caring about someone.
He needed to know if he should protect Commander Jogjebi’s decision and heart. Once the leading weasel bonded with someone, he had a tendency to overlook anything suspicious or against the individual. Since Huinjogjebi had been given the time to think about it, there was no actual proof in the papers the deer had managed to procure that the mouse had actually come from one of the espionage or anti-espionage units, especially if they purged the records of their own members. But there had to be a backup record kept somewhere, if Aekku had not destroyed them. As far as he could tell, Mulmangcho had been Aekku's favorite, so it was possible that he had quite a bit of intel that could be useful. But then, they also had other rebels waiting to executed that might be willing to spill information far more easily. They could pull up what files they had on the yellow mouse, run a background check to see what village and family he came from. Someone would have to recognize him.
But that could come later. He had a more pressing concern, one that could even possibly test the skills of the Special Aide. In order to remake the Iron Crow weapons, he needed the ever-elusive An'obutaniumu. The mineral was hard enough to find as it was, so it had been a stroke of luck to find an already functioning research outpost in one of the occupied regions of Chambelli Koh. Close to the ocean for a steady supply of fish, but far enough distance from any government control for the individuals in charge to send a force to liberate the facility. It was known that the weasels would prefer to stick to the coast, and as long as they were not disturbed, they would not bother other areas. If anything, a few of their scientists were relatively eager to assist in the drilling and mining operations at the outpost, under genuine curiosity. They barely had to threaten them up until recently.
But the distress beacon from his own staff stationed at the outpost claimed that the workers were indeed revolting, threatening a disruption in the supply. That would not do. The idiocy of the Wolf Unit had cost him his precious Iron Crow weapons. Commander Seungnyangi still refused to say how his Stingrays had lost the connection to the drones’ receiver, only trying to blame him to allowing a weak signal. The Crows had not even had the time to separate, which meant they should have crashed together. Well, the composition of the An'obutaniumu was such that it should explode as soon as it touched the soil, so it was not as if Flower Hill would be able to collect them. All the same, the mice he had sent out out to monitor the situation had reported massive explosions, suggesting that his fail-safe had worked.
Across from him, his new Special Aide poured over the documents to the Porasu Outpost, basic schematics and reports for the most important areas.
But there had been some things weighing on Huinjogjebi’s mind since earlier in the day, that might affect the Special Aide’s willingness to cooperate with his mission. He turned, attempting to wipe off some of the mud that still stuck to his sleeve after the Special Aide had protected him from the gunfight.
“Special Aide. I have a few questions to ask of you.” The guards shifted in unease and excitement at the tone.
“Yes, sir? Is there something not in the report that I should know about?” The yellow mouse’s eyes had shown excitement at his assignment, and now they looked up at him questioningly.
“I have a question about your…sudden change in motives…” something flashed in the Special Aide’s eyes as he held his polite smile.
“A week ago, you were very eager to rush over and join up with the Wolf Unit, and also implied that I was unfit to run the Weasel Unit. And now here you are, happily following my orders. I do ask that you explain yourself.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, tilting his head back.
Geumsaegi had expected this as a possible line of questioning. “The last time Commander Jogjebi and I spoke, he gave me some very specific instructions that if something were to happen to him, I was to go and seek out his brother to lead the Weasel Unit. I did as he said. His brother has joined the Wolf Unit, so I assumed that he had a great plan.” He shook his head, allowing real disdain to show on his face. “I do not believe that Assistant Jogjebi is capable of anything. He is most certainly not in charge. If anything at all, he is just an undignified prop the wolves are using to try and get the weasels under their control.”
Huinjogjebi had to agree with that. “So, you insulted me, questioned my ability to lead, decided to suggest my incompetence by exposing a plot against me, all so you could follow the late Commander’s order to join up with his brother?”
“Late? I did not see a body. I found it suspicious that no one was interested in holding the required months long viewing of the body of a lead commander, as is required to prove his passing in a large attack to quell rumors, if there is not a large enough funeral. From what I understand, the bodies of those around him were found intact enough. So why not him? What happened to the body, assuming he is not in hiding again? Where are the pictures of the body?” The golden squirrel relished the memory of the weasel’s body burning to a crisp in front of his eyes, listening to the despairing cries as his base exploded around him. The cheers of his comrades as they base collapsed behind them.
One of the guards snickered. “And where were you during the attack? Burrowing underground like the other mice?”
Geumsaegi glared, rising as if to fight the weasel. “Drifting downstream a river after being ambushed, actually. By the time I came to, it was all over.” He knew about the reports stating that he had been attacked at a stop in the middle of a pass.
Huinjogjebi waved for them both to cease. “Do you think Assistant Jogjebi joined with the Wolf Unit willingly?” another weasel snorted, softly enough that the old weasel would not hear him.
Geumseagi shook his head, “It is hard to tell. Why would a higher-class weasel willingly join with dumb brutes such as the wolves?” The other weasels, having disregarded the Special Aide, listened closely, opinion rising.
Huinjogjebi tapping his fingers against his cane. “Obviously, the Wolf Unit wants to try and manipulate my weasels and mice by using my Commander’s face. They must have coerced him.”
“Unless, of course, he was working with the Wolf Unit to begin with. Doubtful, given how much they disregard what he says. He does almost nothing unless he is ordered to do so, and only used his power to take goby fish away from whoever caught them, as if he only has a mind for them.” The disguised squirrel agreed.
Leaning back further, more relaxed, the white weasel sighed, thoughtful. “Do you think Commander Jogjebi would have combined the wolf and weasel units?”
“There would have been more stipulations. As far as physical power goes, until we can acquire more troops, we are at a disadvantage alone. He would have done whatever was needed, as long as he could control it.” Or rather, how Geumsaegi could control it. The joining of the two groups was risky, but it allowed him to keep both under surveillance without requiring a second scout group to be created.
A silence, before Huinjogjebi lifted up his own documents on the Porasu Outpost, returning to an upright position. The Special Aide shifted, raising a pencil as the two prepared to shift gears into the matter at hand.
“What is the situation at the Porasu Outpost?”
“Yes, well. We have been mining and drilling for An'obutaniumu at the base for years now, rather peacefully considering the workers from the local populations that have been conscripted. It is a very secure outpost, the only way in and out is through Iron Crow helicopter or a series of electronic gates. Until now, there has been no issue. However, recently, the workers are refusing to perform their duties. In fact, they appear to be shutting down operations. I will not have this. However, I need to deal with the remnants of the earlier assassin’s group, and quickly, before tempers and rumors get out of hand.”
“You wish for me to go to the outpost as an inspector, while you deal with the group that plotted against us?”
“That would be the idea, although how to go about this, so they do not get suspicious and run…”
Geumsaegi leaned forward, thinking quickly. “Send a group of wolves in first. Have them round up the workers and lock them in a common area. Is there a room with a stage? That would work best.” He saw an opportunity. “We can take Mulmangcho and Oegwipali as ‘examples.’ I will give a lecture and demand reasons for the workers’ noncompliance. Rough up the two in front of them, give them a scare, and perhaps one or two will point out the reason or ringleaders convincing them to rebel. If the rest continue to refuse to work, we can execute the mice in front of them, and then threaten to do the same to their friends. If they have a valid reason to not continue their work, or if they comply, we can take Mulmangcho and Oegwipali back to base to prove that we can be reasonable.” Of course, he would find a reason to let them try to escape, and then kill them.
Commander Huinjogjebi nodded, amazed at the quick decision. I would prefer those two mice alive, due to their possible knowledge of Aekku’s files. But we do have other individuals from the Mount Rock Rebellion that have not been executed that could answer some questions. Porasu takes priority.
Notes:
It seems like there is enough evidence to suggest that Clever Raccoon Dog is taking place in Flower Hill, so I might as well have a fun background plot. Clever Raccoon Dog jumps around in decades, but I'll keep them in the Flower Hill version of technology, so maybe no cell phones. The only question is the cat, Yaong-i. Most studios, including SEK, have them as a girl, but SEK uses male pronouns for them in some episodes, apparently, and won't answer questions on the matter.
Dol Jogagga- Stone Carvers
Chapter 7: The Outpost
Summary:
Responding to the distress signal at the outpost, Commander Huinjogjebi finds himself having to give his Special Aide a very important mission regarding the security of the base.
Notes:
I have quite a bit of humor in this chapter, but I will hopefully be able to go back to being more serious for the next few chapters. I also have a lot of notes at the end to avoid spoilers.
I would like to thank Rei-does-stuff for assisting with the Urdu translations!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The ride was long and bumpy, helicopter fighting against the wind as they approached the unfamiliar ocean, rain clouds forming in the distance.
Below them, unpaved roads ran deep with the ruts of trucks that had come before them, traversing through the thick woods on either side, Geumsaegi wondered about the possibility of Chambelli Koh soldiers hidden in the leaves and behind rocks. If the workers were starting to become discontent, they could be backed up by actual soldiers. Allowing the weasels to have the coastal areas had been an unfortunate, yet tactical decision. As long as they stayed near the waters, they might not try to harm many villagers further in. It was partially why Chaand Hadia had allowed and encouraged the smaller country to form, to help create a buffer zone from invaders. Besides, the Porasu outpost had already been set up by the Chambelli Koh scientists before the occupation, and now the government did not even have to use its own money for funding the site.
He could hear Mulmangcho and Oegwipali, occasionally complaining in the back compartment, harshly discouraged by his handpicked guard as the turbulence forced their shackles to rattle. He had been correct in his assumption that the guard would not like the mice who had accused him of working with Flower Hill, and had even shot him during their battle. But still, Geumsaegi would have to watch his enemies, so that none of the workers would be turned to their side by sympathizing with their plight. He almost hoped they would try something to give him a reason to shoot them.
The walls of the facility eventually came into view, large and intimidating, machinery reaching into the sky, almost inducing a claustrophobic feel. As if waiting for the helicopters, most of the group of wolves that had been sent to lock up the workers roared back down the roads in their own vehicles, eager to get back to the base, alongside the overseers of the facility. Examining the electronic gates, Geumsaegi could easily see that there was not much way any Flower Hill backup would be able to enter the facility. They would have to go over the gates, and that would likely be spotted by the guard towers and cameras.
Maybe I should have tried to stall for backup after all…But the commanders were counting on him to procure the data, no matter to the sensation of a dropping pit in his stomach making him feel as if there was something very wrong about the situation. The feeling was beginning to spread among the other helicopters, making weasel and mice hairs stand on edge, eyes darting around in suspicion.
Instead of a gym, the workers had been locked in the cafeteria, but there was a stage for him to stand on nonetheless. The droning arrival of the helicopters had done their work on intimidation, as a selection of drillers, miners, electricians, engineers, and maintenance workers milled about the tables, whispering to each other in nervousness.
Mulmangcho glared at Geumsaegi as the disguised squirrel dragged him up on the stage by the chain, forcing him to slap the mouse hard enough for him to fall back a few paces. He made sure to be careful to avoid the glasses. A blind Mulmangcho would only be more aggressive, after all. The workers turned from staring at the imposing helicopters to gather around the podium, heads of each group at the front, protecting the workers. A good group, with good leaders.
Geumsaegi paused, remembering the country he was in. “Sab ko dupaher bakhair main aj mujay kuch samjaney mai app ka tawon chahun ga.” The perplexed expressions of the group revealed that the vast majority of the audience was comprised of Usuhan Jiyeog staff. The few local workers looked up at him in amusement upon hearing an attempt to speak in their native tongue.
Geumsaegi popped open the strap on his gun, fingering the handle while glaring around the room. He tried again. “Good afternoon, everyone. I would like for your cooperation today in explaining why we have had reports that you are shutting down the facility and refusing to work. I am assuming that you know what could happen to you if you do not comply?”
A mouse in a yellow safety uniform stepped forward, timid as one usually was, but emboldened by the other also being a mouse, from what he could see. It was had always been rare for a non weasel to be in such a position of power.
“S-S-Sir? There is a typhoon headed directly towards this area?” Geumsaegi’s expression of sudden understanding allowed the mouse to continue. “It is too dangerous to continue the mining and drilling operations, for now, so we have to shut the plant down and secure everything so we can ride out the storm. The squalls could damage the equipment, not to mention the possible flooding.”
Despite the reasonable explanation, Geumsaegi was annoyed at the waste of his time, exhaustion from his long trip and somewhat sleepless night briefly looming over his head, threatening to settle in. He fixed the strap back over his holster. No need to further risk one of the prisoners stealing his gun. He crossed his arms, holding his elbows. “Did you not tell the overseers of this issue? They should have allowed for and reported this. Even in the documents about this facility I was given ahead of time, Commander Huinjogjebi mandated that everything be secured in the event of such an occasion.”
The mouse continued, nodding. “It has not been a problem in the past, but the overseers were switched out, so they are new. They saw us stop working and start to secure things, and panicked without even asking us what we thought we were doing. By the time we realized that they did not understand and had sent out a distress call, we had already been locked in here.”
Do you really think weasels would read the manuals, if they were not the ones doing the work? Geumsaegi had spent enough time working with mice that even he could read the message in the knowing look when they locked eyes.
As the outpost workers scrambled to finish their tasks before the typhoon hit, Geumsaegi managed to call Commander Huinjogjebi to explain the situation. Not able to have a private location in such short notice, with such little time, he chose to commandeer a large round table in the middle of the cafeteria.
“So, this was just a colossal waste of everyone’s time? I even had Commander Seungnyangi check the radar stations to ensure there was not a storm coming that would make them react,” the commander appeared exhausted as a mouse maid brought him some coffee, bowing shyly out of camera range once she was done.
Geumsaegi froze. “Commander, sir? What radar did you have him use? The Cloud Cover Radar, or the Doppler Radar?” The expression of realization and exasperation on the weasel’s face was the answer. That idiot wolf would not have seen the encroaching green if he used a Doppler system, unlike the grays and blacks of the Cloud Cover Radar! Geumsaegi sighed and nodded, smiling to signal that he understood the situation. You are a fool to trust him. If they wanted to keep control of the wolves, they would need to hide their commander’s mistake. It was likely that Officer Yeou had already realized, and was taking care of it. Neither of them would be surprised if she reported that the typhoon had changed directions, and was suddenly heading towards them instead of away as it was supposed to. At the very least, the typhoon would miss Commander Huinjogjebi’s special leisure island for the upper brass. Some rain maybe, and perhaps some new aquatic species being pushed into the area.
Behind him, a few of the group leads approached them, a mix of mice and weasels, as well as moles and a hyena. A weasel approached, bowing slightly. Commander Huinjogjebi’s eyes narrowed over the screen, clearly reaching his wits end, but sensing something further amiss. “Do you want something, Nodongja?” He would humor the other weasel, even if the mouse behind him clearly had more information to give. The hyena stayed in the back, nervous.
The workers joined Geumsaegi at the table, glancing around themselves to make sure the cafeteria was empty, with the exception of the soldiers and guards that had arrived. The wolves moved in and out, making themselves at home so that they could bed down in the facility during the storm, and assisting in boarding up the windows that had yet to be covered. It was a given that the rotors of the helicopters would be too damaged to fly once the typhoon had passed through. The Weasel and Wolf Unit would either have to send a second set of helicopters, or arrive in land vehicles to take them back to the base.
“We have been noticing some strange happenings and unidentified individuals around the area lately. It started out subtle. Unauthorized computer log ins here and there, data moved around. But we are beginning to think there is someone on the base who should not be here. There have also been threatening messages and near misses with malfunctioning equipment.”
“So, you have reasons to believe that there may be a scout or saboteur from some country who has infiltrated my Porasu Outpost Base, in order to threaten the workers, sabotage equipment, and possibly steal data on An'obutaniumu?” Commander Huinjogjebi was fully awake now, glancing at Commander Seungnyangi, who entered the room. Geumsaegi tilted his head, raising a salute in greeting. Are you that arrogant to assume that no one has been stealing copies of the data the whole time?
“Actually, we think there are at least two of them. From different sides,” another weasel began, betraying that this issue had apparently been a discussion everyone had had before. “They act differently. One is small. You see some movement in the corner of your eye, and when you turn around, a data disk copy is gone. The other is the one threatening the workers. Whoever they are, he is much larger than the other weasels. Sometimes, we can see a tall figure near some equipment when everyone should have been off shift, and we investigate to find the machine damaged in a way that could have killed the user once it was turned on. That is if we see it at all, so we have to closely inspect everything. So, it appears as if one wants to steal, and the other wants to harm us. The overseers said we were just seeing ghosts, or the An'obutaniumu fumes were affecting us.”
Commander Huinjogjebi saw the problem before Geumsaegi did. “Which shouldn’t be possible given the distance I have you all keep from the material. So, you think the storm will drive them inside and into close quarters with the rest of you? They would not be able to hide in the deeper levels or the drilling site, since some of the areas are designed to safely flood during a storm surge, so they would be forced into the upper areas with the rest of you.”
“Yes, sir…”
Commander Seungnyangi appeared on screen, to his weasel counterpart’s annoyance, as the feed became grainy, filling Geumsaegi with a greater sense of unease as the connection grew weaker the more the wind picked up outside. Outside, soldiers were shouting, racing after their hats if they were not strapped down. “So, this is a perfect opportunity for you all! Once you bunker down for this little ‘typhoon’ rainstorm of yours, you can test everyone in the facility to determine if they are supposed to be there or not.”
“Sir, I believe typhoon is our word for what the United States Alliance calls a ‘Hurricane?’ It is likely that all communication will be cut off as soon as the storm starts, but can be started back up easily enough once it has passed, as long as the communication devices have been safely secured” Geumsaegi turned questioningly at a nearby mouse, who nodded in agreement. The wolf commander’s eyes widened slightly at the realization, but he quickly composed himself.
“Your orders, Special Aide, are to investigate and track down the interloping scouts, if they exist. Bring them to me alive if you can, so that I may find out what information they know.” Commander Huinjogjebi leaned forward, teeth barred, excited.
“Sir, yes sir!” Geumsaegi suspected that the scouts possibly hidden in the base could be an ally, someone he could even help in their mission. Is it one of my friends, after all? Or someone from Chambelli Koh? I hope to meet them, soon! His heart raced in excitement, tail waving.
Geumsaegi’s first order of business was to move Mulmangcho and Oegwipali into the holding cells on the basement floor of the facility. It had been obvious from the start to everyone that the two shackled mice would be used as 'examples' if they did not comply, so their presence would only make the other workers nervous. Plus, he did not want them to start asking the mice questions about what they had done, and perhaps bring a few onto their side, as their darting eyes suggested they had planned. At least he had his own mouse guard to assist him, and bring them meals, so they could be isolated. He just had to keep the guard from being lonely, which meant striking up a possible further friendship. Ugh. But he is useful. I'll do it for the mission!
With the mice in front of him, Geumsaegi and the mouse guard escorted them to an open elevator that would take them to the underground prison. The mice went in first, eyeing the squirrel, who glared back.
As Geumsaegi entered, a wolf rushed by, accidentally stepping on the heel of the mouse guard, forcing them both to startle and trip. As the doors to the elevator closed, Geumsaegi watched as the mouse turned to look at the stairs, leaving him alone with the prisoners.
“Oh. There are no buttons in this elevator. Is this the prison? Are you locked in here with us?” Geumsaegi drew his gun as Oegwipali spoke in mild interest. The one eared mouse shrank back in nervousness as the deadly weapon was aimed at him, lowering himself and spreading his arms as far as the chains allowed, to appear as non-threatening as possible. It was quickly re aimed at Mulmangcho, who had tensed, as if to jump forward and steal the gun. Slowly, the older mouse moved until he was next to Oegwipali, pushing his younger brother back towards the far wall.
Situation more under control, Geumsaegi allowed himself to speak. “Dr. Huinjogjebi, or the original builders, appear to have installed this elevator with voice recognition technology. Take us to the basement!”
“Please speak calmly and clearly to select a floor.” An electronic female voice rang through the small space.
“씨발?” Oegwipali was startled, hearing an unknown foreign language chime from the ceiling.
“Tahe khane ke satay,” Geumsaegi tried.
“Please speak calmly and clearly to select a floor. This unit is using the language of the United States Alliance”
Mulmangcho blinked, “The wolves must have switched the module to the official language of the United States Alliance,” he whispered slowly, explaining to his brother.
“Take-us-to-the-basement,” Geumsaegi tried again, hesitantly. While his time as the leader of Squirrel Village required him to learn other languages, it was not his best ability, even if the others he met with appreciated his thoughtfulness in the attempt. Plus, it was likely that an electronic system might not understand his accent.
“Could you please repeat that?” the computer chimed.
“B-a-s-e-m-e-n-t” Geumsaegi enunciated.
“Could you please repeat that?”
“BASEMENT”
“Could you please repeat that?’
“Basement!” As amusing as it was to watch the Special Aide struggle, Mulmangcho did not fancy being trapped in an elevator with him if he grew frustrated. We have to get out of here! He could claim that we attacked him, and that he shot us in self-defense, and no one would be the wiser! We still have to find a way to prove that he is a fucking traitor once and for all, WE CAN'T DIE HERE! The needed to get out as soon as possible, before the scout decided to capitalize on the situation. Geumsaegi shot him a look, but did not stop the mouse from trying. Of course he would also know this language.
“Could you please repeat that?”
“Basement,” Geumsaegi stated.
“Basement!” Mulmangcho yelled in frustration.
“Bottom floor!”
“Could you please repeat that?”
Mulmangcho pinched his nose. “Basement!” the voice came out differently, in hopes that the voice recognition would understand better.
“Please speak slowly and clearly.” A different response this time. Perhaps, if they tried speaking in different ways, they could get other responses?
Geumsaegi covered his mouth with one hand, keeping the other pointing his gun. “Basement,” the voice was muffled.
“Please speak clearly and calmly to select a floor. This unit is using the language of the United States Alliance” The elevator chimed.
“Basement!” Geumsaegi tried yet again.
“I am sorry, I cannot understand what you are saying. Please select your floor slowly and clearly.”
“언어를 이해할 수 없다면 모국으로 돌아가세요!” Oegwipali yelled.
Mulmangcho slammed his elbow against his brother’s shoulder, “Oh, are we doing that kind of talk now? Are we doing this to a damn computerized voice?”
“Like you didn’t think the same about the wolves when they couldn’t understand what we were trying to say and betrayed us?” They had been lucky to eventually find the group of wolves that bothered to learn other languages, for what good it had done them.
Geumsaegi ignored the fact that neither language they were speaking was the native tongue of the region.
“If you would like to leave this elevator, say ‘open the doors, please.'”
“OPEN-THE-DOOR!” Geumsaegi and Mulmangcho chimed in unison, both not willing to say please to the annoyance.
“Oh, just yell random numbers and maybe she will understand one of them!” Oegwipali cried out in frustration.
“One!”
“I am sorry, I cannot understand what you are saying. Please select your floor slowly and clearly.”
“Two! Three! Four!”
“If you would like to leave this elevator, say ‘open the doors, please,’ in a calm and clear manner.”
“Did I just hear it tell us to calm down? Did they expect this problem to happen at some point? Is that why it is telling us to remain calm?” Mulmangcho forgot about the gun pointed at him as he raged, clutching his ears before slamming a fist into the wall as the chain between his wrists provided further annoyance by brushing up against his nose.
“You have not selected a floor.”
“다시 진정하라고 하면 누가 이 일을 한 언어씩 하게 했는지 찾아내서 복수를 했다는 이유로 처형당할 겁니다” the one eared mouse muttered.
“I am sorry, I cannot understand what you are saying. Please select your floor slowly and clearly in a calm manner.”
“Can’t we just burrow through the walls?” He asked, rage turning to frantic exasperation as he buried his muzzle in his hands.
Geumsaegi glanced at him, then turned to Mulmangcho, “I heavily suggest not trying to burrow through the walls of the facility. It will only cause trouble and pain for you to try and escape that way,” he warned.
“As if I could trust any of the workers here to believe that you are a traitor? How could we leave in hostile territory, anyway?”
“I am sorry, I cannot understand what you are saying. Please select your floor slowly and clearly.”
It was Geumsaegi’s turn to slam a fist into the side of the elevator, forcing both mice to shrink away from him, eyeing the gun nervously. The squirrel looked up at the vent near the top, sealed tight. Pulling out a multi tool from his belt, he removed a screwdriver.
“Oegwipali should be the lightest, yes?” The one eared mouse did not even question the suggestion, taking the screwdriver and preparing to climb. Geumsaegi and Mulmangcho stared at each other in mutual understanding. While Geumsaegi, as a squirrel, could easily climb up on the railing and hang from the ceiling to reach the vent himself, that left him vulnerable. Furthermore, there was the easy possibility of Mulmangcho reaching up and stealing Geumsaegi’s gun if he was on the bottom. Geumsaegi would have done the same, in that situation.
Mulmangcho, to his credit, took the operation seriously, using the rails to step onto Geumsaegi’s shoulders. All they both had to do was lean against the wall of the elevator, to give Oegwipali the height to unscrew the vent.
“You have not selected a floor.”
“똥물에 풀려나 죽어야 할 놈” the mouse flinched and gnashed his fangs as the voice bellowed into his ear, as he removed the second screw.
All at once, the elevator lurched into movement, disrupting the ladder of individuals. Oegwipali plummeted backwards, dropping the screwdriver, smacking his head on the opposite corner as he fell. Mulmangcho landed on his back, turning quickly to grab at the screwdriver rolling across the floor, a possible weapon to use since Geumsaegi’s gun was secure in its holster.
But the squirrel was faster, moving instinctively to pin him to the carpet.
Geumsaegi froze, both the squirrel and the mouse pinned slightly by the harsh force of the elevator’s movement, Oegwipali slumped in one of the corners, nursing his head. At least he is distracted!
Geumsaegi checked his position on top of Mulmangcho. Shackled wrists pinned to the floor, far above his head. His own legs on either side of the mouse's, with his left ankle pinning down the mouse's, preventing coordinated leg movement. Without a tail, Mulmangcho had no leverage to contest the position. But it was strange that the glasses wearing mouse was not event trying to fight him, instead waiting patiently. With a sudden realization, Geumsaegi released that he also had no ability to move without Mulmangcho getting free, if Oegwipali recovered to help. That mouse guard who failed to get on the elevator with us! Did Mulmangcho convince him to work with him after all while we in the helicopter? Clever bastard!
Mulmangcho was staring at him now, eyes filled with hate, yet questioning, unmoving, chest heaving. The golden squirrel could see himself reflected in those glasses, expression focused, knowing what he had to do.
For a moment, it was if he could see himself in the reflection, positioned as if he were Mulmangcho, arms and legs stretched and pinned. His dear, beloved, and far away Juldarami, looming over him, pinning HIM down as he had many times, preparing for what combat training they could get up to next. He missed him so. And the bastard under him, the one who had caused him so many problems in the past, had been the one to shoot him, send him to the hospital so that the two were apart. I could kill them right now, and just say that they attacked me and be done with them...
A jerk in the elevator, forcing their foreheads closer together. Mulmangcho tensed, forcing Geumsaegi to shift, pinning him tighter in warning. A stalemate, as Oegwipali continued to curse under his breath in the corner of the elevator.
He barely noticed the wolves and mice until the door to the elevator was fully opened. Shit! Pay attention! He must be more tired than he thought. But he was almost at the cells, where he could drop the mice off.
“Let’s go!” Geumsaegi jerked both mice to their feet, dragging them out of the elevator, not fully noticing the stares and giggling whispers of the astonished wolves and mice at what they thought they must have stumbled upon, or the red blinking of the camera affixed to the wall.
Mulmangcho sighed, quietly, terror lifting, going quietly to the cells. He could only have imagined what would have happened if he had fought back, or if Oegwipali had accidentally made the wrong move.
He and his brother would live to get their revenge on the squirrel another day.
Notes:
Part of this is heavily inspired by the Burnistoun 2011 Scots in an Elevator skit. Also maybe a bit of IGP Still Wakes the Deep in here.
Yes, there is a one line joke I'm gearing up to make for this story arc. It might be noticeable halfway through, but we are still a few chapters away.
"Sab ko dupaher bakhair main aj mujay kuch samjaney mai app ka tawon chahun ga" - "Good afternoon, everyone. I would like for your cooperation today in explaining something to me"
씨발- 'Shit, Fuck.' A versatile Korean insult or interjection. This is a classic phrase in Korean shows and movies, apparently.
"Tahe khane ke satay" - "Basement Level"
언어를 이해할 수 없다면 모국으로 돌아가세요 - If you don't understand the language, go back to your home country
다시 진정하라고 하면 누가 이 일을 한 언어씩 하게 했는지 찾아내서 복수를 했다는 이유로 처형당할 겁니다- If it tells us to calm down again, I'm going to find out who made this thing work in one language at a time and be executed for getting my revenge.
똥물에 튀겨 죽일 놈 - 'Guy who should be fried in dung water and killed.' Apparently a very unique Korean insult according to FluentU? I'm not actually sure of the AO3 policy of posting links in the notes.
Chapter 8: While the Cat's Away...
Summary:
With Geumsaegi otherwise occupied and unable to be contacted, various groups are able to scheme with impunity.
Notes:
Going to be playing a bit liberally with Korean Shamanism in this chapter. I just meant for it to be a passing reference, but then fell down a research rabbit hole last minute since I discovered my casual ideas were actually on track a bit, and had to mix it with traditional North Korean views on the practice as well. But I don't want it exactly the same. Hopefully the brief usage isn't offensive to anyone who practices it, but if it is please let me know.
Also, the one-shot 'A Meeting in the Tower' is now officially canon in this AU, although one doesn't necessarily have to read that to understand the reference in the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As the screen grew to static, Commanders Seungnyangi and Huinjogjebi began to relax, eventually turning off the communications console. The Porasu Outpost workers could handle themselves for a short while, even if they went into emergency protocols due to the typhoon. At the main base, it was time for a very serious discussion regarding the future of the combined Wolf and Weasel Unit, and it was important to do so while the growing mystery that was the Special Aide was nowhere near where he could hear their deliberations.
Still, ever cautious, the wolf commander had his soldiers search the room for listening devices, inspecting monitors and waving handheld devices over the walls and emblem seals. Mice and weasels checked under tables, chairs, and door-frames while crows flew to the rafters. Eventually, the flurry of activity died down, as no spyware or intruders were detected. Not even one of the Stingrays was close to being powered on, all accounted for as well. Most of the staff were dismissed, with only the most trusted followers remaining, allowed to speak freely for the duration of the meeting should they think of something important.
“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” Officer Yeou placed a cup of coffee in front of her own commander. She gestured lazily with an upturned tail for Assistant Jogjebi to move forward, and have a look at his brother’s papers. “Do we have any confirmation on if it was before, during, or after Operation: Mole, that Jogjebi suspected scouts had infiltrated the Weasel Unit?”
Aides once again pulled out the papers received from the visiting deer and their goat entourage. The messages from General Commander Jogjebi, asking for aid and a formal inquiry from an investigation unit, and a letter to the anti-espionage unit requesting an agent to root out scouts, as well. Alongside these were the instructions from the anti-espionage unit detailing erasing most of the military records of members if they were assigned to an internal job.
Now beside her, Assistant Jogjebi spoke up, remembering his own time and details, “It was before. The Guard Commander and Search Commander were killed, alongside several mice, and the details on the operation were stolen outright. But the scouts were shot dead before they could return, one hedgehog in the chest, and the other squirrel in the water under a hail of bullets.”
Huinjogjebi lifted an eyebrow. “In the water? Did everyone involved assume he was just dead? If no one saw the bullets actually hit a body, he could have just thrown his clothes into the water and not jumped in at all.” There is no proof of death if there is not a body or a recording of one. His thoughts drifted back to what the Special Aide has said about not seeing the corpse of their commander. There had not been time to take any distinguishing photos of what was left of the revered weasel.
Annoyed, Commander Seungnyangi huffed. “Do hedgehogs not wear body armor? I was informed that the hedgehogs are more combat oriented, while the squirrels attack from afar.” If they do not wear protection, the Weasel Unit is more pathetic in losing to them than we thought.
Assistant Jogjebi blanched, not wanting to respond to that line of questioning. Instead, he lifted up the letters, sifting through them. “This certainly does look like the wording and handwriting of my brother. There is no question about that, although this part here…” he pointed at a line, noticing a difference.
“That would have been about when he received the head injury at Okchon River, so I expect his handwriting to have changed a bit. His writing looked like this when he visited the Sturgeon Base, as well,” Huinjogjebi confirmed.
“So, if it became slightly different due to an impairment, and if anyone knew his coordination had changed, it would have been easy to copy any of his handwriting, especially since we don’t have the response to the letters. Assuming, of course, that the investigation and anti-espionage units would actually send any letters back that could be intercepted in the first place. Which does mean that Flower Hill could have intercepted the original letters, and sent in their own scout without Commander Jogjebi being any the wiser. And if they had the scout act out the orders in the letters, and actually hunt down traitors, he would not have been suspicious.” Commander Seungnyangi groaned.
“But why would a Scout from Flower Hill want to stop the General Commander from getting killed, or even usurped? How does that make any sense?” A weasel queried.
“Possibly due to the power vacuum that would entail, as well as easy control.” Commander Huinjogjebi responded. “If a scout that was presumed anti-espionage successfully pointed out traitors, then Commander Jogjebi would be inclined to believe him about anything. Which would mean the scout would be able to exert subtle control over the Weasel Unit, and protect his own nation. An ability he would lose if anyone else were to take control, as he would be replaced by the newcomers' own trusted staff. I would not have reinstated him had he not proven himself capable of sniffing out the Chief of Staff’s plot.” And also, for convincing the Wolves to join us without suffering any hardships like previous Liaison Officers.
“Which makes the Special Aide all the more suspicious. No proof of having served in our Unit beforehand. No one in our troops remember seeing him, either,” Officer Yeou murmured to herself.
“There is one thing that I do find strange about this whole anti-espionage unit idea,” Assistant Jogjebi interjected. The commanders turned to look at him.
“The Search Commander before Operation: Mole, essentially held the same role as the Special Aide. He was as close to Commander Jogjebi as the Special Aide was, and was known as one of the best weasels in the entire unit. He had authorization to any part of the base, and used that to hunt down any traitors and scouts that may be hidden, and in return was given many gifts by my brother, in almost the exact same way as the current Special Aide. But there was a rumor about him secretly being a scout hunter as well, given how easily he was able to hunt down scouts and traitors during other campaigns. He also has no military records prior to being in the position, and no one knows where he came from, either. The first of these letters are dated to almost directly after his death, and mentions his demise…and then that mouse comes along and starts hunting down traitors in almost the same way…”
“Let’s see those files. Even if the anti-espionage unit destroyed the documents on their members in the field, there should be backups, just in case a situation like this arises,” Commander Seungnyangi leaned forward, eyes gaining a tint of blue.
Commander Huinjogjebi nodded, recalling the original nerve racked Search Commander, constantly clutching his neck. Indeed, he had appeared out of nowhere, stealing Commander Jogjebi’s time, and bringing down any traitors in the Unit that had appeared before the larger scale attacks. “It is possible that the confirmed traitor, Aekku, as the scout commander, may have destroyed the backups for his own ends.”
“Or, had the files encrypted, while replacing the counter unit with his own members,” the wolf muttered, looking through the large number of coded files retrieved from Aekku’s villa. “But as you mentioned, you arrested most if not all of the traitors from this Pact. Where are they being held?” His eyes flashed blue in full force, sending a wave of excitement through the room. Easy enough to make them translate the files.
Commander Huinjogjebi was slow on the uptake, puffing out his chest in pride. “Not to worry. Naturally, I had the traitors executed as soon as possible, in revenge for our former commander. There is no fear of them attempting to infiltrate our ranks again, even with the reinforcements that are to arrive to replenish our unit within the next few days!”
“You had anyone who could give you the proper information on Aekku’s habits and encryption executed? That will set us back quite a bit, and delay any information gathering before the Special Aide returns,” the wolf leaned backwards in his chair, feeling weary, vibrant blue emitting from his eyes stuttering out. You fucking idiot. Such a huge mistake is why you are unfit to be commander. If you weren’t surrounded by loyalists…His eyes caught hold of a name on the dossier of individuals.
"I suppose there is Mulmangcho and his brother, who were very close to Aekku, assuming they do not try anything foolhardy again and get themselves executed. Given my experiences with them, I highly doubt they will survive the excursion." He gestured to a signaler. "Keep hailing the base, and if you get in touch with them, pass on the order that Mulmangcho and Oegwipali must be returned alive for further questioning!" The wolf nodded, then sat down at a radio. Both knew it was likely a futile attempt, given the storm.
The weasel on the other side stared in horrified realization into his coffee, fighting back a coughing fit, beard swaying back and forth in his trembling. Unnoticeable to anyone who did not know him. The Special Aide knew how he felt about the mice and traitors. It was likely that they were already dead.
Officer Yeou moved forward. “We do have a cryptology squadron, as any aviation or naval unit that transmits over airwaves must have. We can add weasels or some of the more intelligent mice to the unit, and have them work to decode Aekku’s files while the Special Aide is in the compound. As long as he does not find out, assuming such an endeavor would not be suspicious. And the arrival of the new soldiers should draw his attention away from something like that.” The commanders nodded.
“While we are on the topic, have you found anyone suspicious while you were searching our troops for any more traitors?” The officers and commanders had not been pleased when the wolves had run through the resort, tearing apart stacks of paper to look for evidence. Commander Huinjogjebi had placated them by bringing up how lucky they were, that the wolves would be there to help build defenses on the island, if another typhoon came through, and actually hit them this time.
“As a matter of fact. We figured it was best to investigate your ‘field mice,’ based on the pictures that were submitted. We found a significant portion of mice with bushy tails quite like squirrels hiding among your ‘field mice’ population, and they were quite unnaturally aggressive, so they have been arrested for testing.”
It was Huinjogjebi’s turn to look up, “Field mice are what we call mice that work in the field. The ones with bushy tails like a squirrel are technically dormice, a relatively rare grouping in the world, somewhat like your country's wood rats or pack rats. Flower Hill does not know about the species, which means they are the perfect choice to send in as scouts disguised as squirrels. Even if Flower Hill grew suspicious, the individuals would be released by the police due to the tails being real.” I hope these imbecilic fools didn’t kill off the dormice. We might be able to compare the dormice with the Special Aide, if they don’t recognize him as a fake mouse on sight, since they usually able to tell. It has been getting harder and harder to find any as of late.
Officer Yeou quickly jerked her head to an aide in mild panic, pulling on her tail. The aide left, frantically pulling out a radio to make a few calls in the hopes that they were not too late.
“Let’s have a look at those files.” The wolf commander was happy to change the subject.
Most of the papers were much of the same as they saw before. The anti-espionage unit could send associates into the field individually for longer assignments, or as protection, but the files on the members would be destroyed or hidden to prevent their searching from being questioned if the group was infiltrated later on. Members were forbidden from straying from their mission unless there was proof that the individual they were protecting was dead. Which would explain why the Special Aide appeared to be searching for Commander Jogjebi, who had faked his own death at least once before. Unless he was shown the body, then he would be trained not to break his cover. It would take a leader of the anti-espionage unit to force him to back down, and that assumed he would even take such orders from someone who was not in the original unit before it was demolished.
“But why was the Search Commander not the Special Aide, assuming he held the same role?”
Assistant Jogjebi shook his head at the wolf. “That type of position is fine for a mouse, but it still holds certain connotations that are unbefitting of a weasel. It can be fought, but the Search Commander was under far too much stress already, since he was worried about being assassinated by Flower Hill as well.”
Commander Seungnyangi raised an eyebrow as the surrounding weasels and mice nodded at the obvious statement, wolves and fox snickering as they understood the implications. The alligators and crocodiles appeared confused. “But why would they send a mouse as an investigator, and not another weasel as a bodyguard?”
“Flower Hill sees the mice as cannon fodder, good for slaughtering in large numbers, but not worth killing on their own. A weasel would be a threat, as they are, but a supposedly less useful mouse might be overlooked. The Search Commander knew that he would be targeted by Flower Hill once the attacks began in earnest, which is why he panicked and made mistakes that led to his death.” Assistant Jogjebi theorized. “Also, a mouse would be good bait for internal threats. Traitors would want to go after him, first, seeing him as an easy target, and their surprise when he fought back against a superior creature would allow him to escape and report.”
“So, it is possible that giving the Special Aide these roles as Guard Commander and Special Envoy, was a way of showing him off to possible traitors, hinting that he had valuable information that could be used to get close to Commander Jogjebi, so that if anyone happened to the mouse he would know right away?” the wolf realized.
“Yes, that is exactly something my commander would have done,” Huinjogjebi nodded.
"It worked, as well. A group of traitors from Wolfspider Cave did abduct and imprison him in an attempt to make him let them in through a specific door only he knew the codes for, so they could assassinate my brother," Assistant Jogjebi recalled the day he had been assigned to act as a body double. "And it was not the last time, either, considering the incidents at Mt. Rock."
“But that does not excuse this.” Officer Yeou placed a video tape into the VCR, revealing the Blackbox recording of Geomeunjogjebi’s downed helicopter. Another mouse, the Regimental Commander, screaming his declaration to protect Flower Hill, before pressing the button to detonate the Sturgeon Base, much to Huinjogjebi’s dismay. “While we cannot find any records on the Special Aide’s service, we do have some records on his background and those he was known to associate with while he was with Commander Jogjebi. Why was he associating with a traitor, as seen in this video, I wonder?”
A crow, dressed in surveillance unit clothing, moved forward, clicking its tongue in annoyance. “We are assuming that this is even the Regimental Commander in the first place.”
The bird produced a data disk containing more evidence. A party, before Commander Jogjebi was abducted by members of The Pact. Mulmangcho and a mouse enter a room, the former leaving shortly afterwards. A little while later, the actual Mulmangcho appeared, staggering out of the room, incensed that someone had stolen his clothes. Another clip, and the Mulmangcho approached Jogjebi’s helicopter, pulling off his mouse disguise to reveal himself as the Regimental Commander.
One of the mice spoke up, reluctantly. “We did find the Regimental Commander unconscious in the wood after they left…”
Another mouse, “But that one turned out to be Mulmangcho as well, knocked out with his clothes switched again. So, was that really the Regimental Commander on the helicopter, or was Flower Hill playing a con?”
Seungnyangi turned, looking at the older weasel, waving a document, forcing the offending mouse to flinch and move away. “According to your timeline of events leading up to the destruction of the Sturgeon Base, Jogjebi arrived with his new Special Aide, previously the Regimental Commander, and then the base was attacked by the rebellion, which led to the destruction of the facility. And here we have this Special Aide declaring his loyalty to Flower Hill, correct?”
The weasel nodded.
“Had you ever met the Regimental Commander before? How can you be so sure it was even him, and not a Flower Hill scout attempting to destroy the base?” He clicked a remote to one of the screens, revealing the squirrel meeting up with a hedgehog, the two flying off on a duck’s back together as if it had been planned. Another dossier. “And here we no files stating the Regimental Commander's role change, which would suggest that it was very sudden, but we do have files saying he was elsewhere at the time Jogjebi was kidnapped for his necklace in the coup.”
The crow spoke up again. “He has been the target of rebels multiple times, to the point of being kidnapped from the hospital possibly for information after Aekku was killed.” Another dossier, on the report of the aftermath of the ill-fated visit to the Rabbit Village ski competitions, and Aekku’s death.
Commanders Seungnyangi nodded, drawing himself up as he read through the papers. “It would make sense to take out the mice commanders, especially one known to be fascinated by guns and rather brash. It would be easy for a squirrel to disguise as a mouse, after all, so they would be the perfect targets.”
“The Special Aide and the Regimental Commander would have known each other from the rebellion at Mt. Rock. The Regimental Commander was essential in assisting in the arrest of Aekku while he was visiting for an inspection, which would have made him a target as well, especially if the traitors blamed him for Aekku's death. So, he would be a witness the Special Aide would need for later, which would suggest that they would have to meet a few times,” Assistant Jogjebi surmised.
The wolf nodded, annoyed at the twists and turns of the discussion. “One thing we have not considered. What if there were scouts from Flower Hill, but they were embedded in the traitor rebel groups, instead? Or even leading them. Once the traitors had, and executed, a plan, Flower Hill could make use of the chaos to destabilize the Weasel Unit. The rebels abduct Commander Jogjebi and get the keys to the Sturgeon Base to steal the weapons, while Flower Hill sends an agent to destroy the base itself while everyone is distracted, disguised as trusted advisors. Commander Jogjebi would not have known the Regimental Commander as well as he would the Special Aide, if a scout from Flower Hill were to get closer to him and not imitate the one they were disguised as perfectly.”
“But that still does not fully clear either of them. Wiping the military records of an agent just means that Flower Hill could replace the dormouse with a squirrel, and there is no proof of The Regimental Commander being elsewhere during the Sturgeon Base’s destruction. Which means these two mice are very likely to be traitors, but at the same time, there is enough evidence to clear them and make it dangerous for us to accuse them of anything,” Officer Yeou mused.
Huinjogjebi sat up. “Well, we do have the records of where they came from..." He blinked, squinting, "...which does happen to be the same village, after all. Which is very suspicious, since they could back up each others' alibis. Being neighbors would explain how close they are to each other, if they decided to join at the same time, and would explain how they were able to work so well together unlike other mice. The village is deep within Usuhan Jiyeog, but it should be easy enough to find. Most of what we would have to do is take their names and pictures to the village and see if anyone actually knows them. Run background and loyalty checks on everyone there, to make sure no one has been planted. Problem is, we would have to send someone out there if we did not go ourselves.”
“We will start from the very basics, in order to settle this matter once and for all. This is far more work than it needs to be-” he would not mention the weasel’s incompetence in executing leads, given his units’ own accidents “-but the determination of the Special Aide is a top priority, given the situations. He is either the biggest danger to our plans to occupy Flower Hill, or the greatest asset we could hope for.” Finally, a good idea from this fool. Shame it has to be so irritating.
In a far away stronghold, a figure finally managed to sit up in his medical bed. A nearby medic prevented him from clutching at his pained chest and ribs, concerned about the forced start of more internal bleeding via sharp claws and a strong grip. A group of nursing mice caressed his arms, whispering encouragement and blinking up at him.
The Chief of Staff and his entourage stared at the screen, security officer gaping in fascination despite being along for the ride, caught up in the chaos of the shooting at the cafe. The wolves would have never thought to check a mouse for a false eye, let alone an electronic one that could transmit footage over long distances. Slightly annoying that the view was from so far down below, but they had to work with what they could for the moment. Old Jungsa’s group had been separated from them by an avalanche, and the sergeant could have planned out a proper infiltration before the meeting. It was likely that he was hiding out in one of the old towers across the border, waiting for the weasel search parties to die down before he could join them, assuming the rising Junim's talent for angering the locals did not rear its head again. Strange that he had not contacted them yet, but with the snowstorms there was likely radio interference, and one had to be careful about Chaand Hadia patrols.
They stayed silent until the meeting was over. The complexity of the information surrounding that damned Special Aide was perturbing, perhaps above their abilities, but useful nonetheless. The weasels turned to look at their leader, weak and stuck in bed as he was, internal organs healing. Maybe. There was still a possibility of sepsis from the internal bleeding.
The security guard tilted his head, adjusting his glasses. “Sir? What is our new strategy? Should we make our move while the Special Aide is away?”
“The plan remains the same. Mouse or squirrel, the Special Aide still has the codes we need to access the keys to the Sturgeon Base. We get that information, we get the weapons, and we get control of the units and occupy Flower Hill, its populace, and all the fish we could dream of!” The weasel cracked a large grin, laughing hard, harder, hard enough that the tittering mouse nurses began to grow silent in nervousness.
The laughing was stopped by a coughing fit that brought a thick cloth up to his mouth once again. Slowly, he looked around the room, beckoning the groups to draw in closer. “The Special Aide is out of the way for a few days. Which means we have the perfect chance to sneak our own troops in and get them into position. Since they are expecting reinforcements from Usuhan Jiyeog, no one will know the difference…” it was still a shame that their second group had been separated.
Still, whether the Special Aide was a mouse or a squirrel, it did not matter. They would have their fun and teach him a lesson about thinking he could triumph over them, either way. I almost hope he is a squirrel. We could lure in Flower Hill to rescue their comrade. Although they might also want to take the chance to snatch up a high ranking Weasel Unit mouse for information...He might make for some nice bait, either way, and then we can gather funding from the ransom or information we could sell, once we get it from the the would-be rescuers we catch...Yes, his plan was coming along nicely.
“So…we have the same plans on the infiltration front. Not bad for a lower-class weasel, although I suppose it is the obvious choice.” The security officer listened and nodded as the voice on the other spoke though his small microphone. “An obvious choice, but effective nonetheless.”
“I-I assume you can take over the unit faster than the Chief of Staff, can, boss?”
“Oh. but of course! My weasels are trained and loyal to me. We have actual plans involving the unit and Flower Hill, with the latter already put into motion. Once we take over the Weasel and Wolf Units, we will convince his side to join us though. And then, the Special Aide should be ours, and Flower Hill will fall into our claws…”
While the commanders began their talk, a separate group of wolves and reptiles gathered in a basement corridor, guards stationed at the entrance way. With all the upper brass busy, and other wolves on duty, they could finally start their own plans.
“Shit, I need something to take the edge off!” a soldier removed an electronic pipe, dropping some green crystals into it, which were quickly vaporized within. He moved to take a large huff of the resulting haze.
“Hey, go easy on that, don’t want to mess up your lungs. And you’ll get in trouble if anyone finds out, the fox vixen is counting supplies and has a very good nose.”
“The gas is inside, only a little bit comes out into the actual air. Mixing it with nicotine covers up the smell, anyway. And besides, why wouldn’t you want to relax upon finding out this is the fuck up unit?” The wolf’s eyes grew strange as he became more animated. “Look around you! All the wolves in this unit either have disobedience records or poor performance issues! And I might as well smoke if our leader can’t even see certain shades of green.”
Another wolf, having taken his hit much earlier, sat relaxed, yet wired on the staircase, holding a pipe, agreed. “And that is why we are here, in some farming country, instead of fighting to gain the land of República de Cultivos Oleaginosos and their oil reserves. A useless leader for a group of useless miscreants!”
“They sent us out here to get us out of the way!” A third wolf sobbed. An alligator, watching the three, turned down a hit from a pipe. That doesn’t look fun.
“So, we can make our own way!” the largest wolf bellowed, gaining the attention of the mass of bodies in the corridor. “Flower Hill is full of tiny animals! The country itself is small enough that the international community wouldn’t necessarily care if we took it over for ourselves.”
“But how would we even get enough money to run it? so many small animals, even our superior strength can only keep them in check for so long. It doesn’t even have oil for us to attract reinforcements!”
“The larger wolf snapped his fingers, “Miguel!”
An alligator aide moved forward. “According to our data, Flower Hill is extremely profitable in the silk trade, enough to be a powerhouse in its own right. The only thing holding it back from being more profitable is that their customs hold that a simple life is better for the mind and body.” He produced a series of schematics on the silkworms, the eyes of the wolves glittering with greed as they noticed the margins.
“If we take over, we can get them all into farming the silkworms, subjugate the weasels and force them to fish, and just import all other food. It’s a small enough country, isn’t it? Even if we unite both parts.”
The alligator nodded. “There is also the nation of Jindo nearby, that drills for oil down by the southern tip of the peninsula. Although, they are rumored to have quite the strong navy.”
“And we are an airborne unit! We could take down a bunch of ships, easily!” a wolf howled.
“The rulers are dogs, as well, so as fellow canines, we may be able to lower their guard beforehand.”
“We could all take over their empire and live like the kings of old!” The wolf took another hit, oblivious to the movement in the rafters above.
“You will all run out of that, fairly quickly…” a crocodile warned.
“No worries, we set up a trade with that deer the commander uses, to bring us more Goby.”
“Is that what we are calling it?” A wolf on the floor rolled onto his stomach in an attempt to rise.
“You want to be calling it Acelarc-Axelaxaring- Acelaxarine all the time? Besides, everyone loves Goby fish, it will be less suspicious if we talk about it that way.”
The reptiles shared a look. If we get them addicted, they will be easier to control for our own purposes. Best not to report on this scheming as they had originally planned.
“First things first, we would have to get rid of the old wolf. He doesn’t deserve the role of Commander. Officer Yeou controls his decisions, anyway, so she would be sure to join us. Shame if she chose not to though.”
“But what about the Special Aide? The meeting they are having right now is to discuss whether they think he is really some sort of mouse investigator, or a Flower Hill squirrel spying on us all.” A smaller wolf piped up.
“Why would he be a problem either way? I think we could work with both. If he is a mouse, we can turn him over to our side with some encouragement. Didn’t you see how happy he was to see our commander, knowing that the Wolf Unit was likely the best chance he had for his own success, and then how pissed he was when the commander fucked up with the Mole?” The larger wolf declined to mention how the commander was not the one supposed to be feeding and medicating the prisoner. “Besides, if he is a squirrel, we can convince him to be compliant by gifting him the position of overseer of his favorite parts of Flower Hill or his people. And there will be signs, especially towards the winter.”
“Oh? How do you say?”
“Unlike gray squirrels that keep them year-round, the red squirrels found in this area grow ear tufts during the winter. He would have to trim them, by himself, and we can have one of the high and tight cutters to monitor that.”
“We already know he is a squirrel! Look at that tail! Mice don’t have fluffy tails like that! I say we just confront him as soon as he gets back to turn him to our side!”
“…certain species of mice do indeed have fluffy tails. Dormice over in this country, and even Yeohosua from that last mission was a bushy tailed wood rat” Another crocodile interjected, hesitating.
“It does not matter. We are wolves! We can either turn him to our Unit’s rule, or get rid of him if he is too much trouble.”
“And what about us?” Miguel queried.
“What about you? You are reptiles, you will just slow down and die when the weather turns. You can be overseers if you want, I guess. Otherwise, we can just keep you inside as secretaries!” He noticed the mood turn sour. “It would be a much better life than what Seungnyangi has planned for you. Without the underground study data and the mole, you all will probably be sent in as reconnaissance through underwater passageways. Obviously, you will die in the cold dark. At least we need you to defuse the water mines, that should be warm enough for you to survive and earn your keep.”
Reptilian eyes narrowed, "And what about the weasels? Are we sure we want to subjugate them instead of having them join us?"
The largest of the wolves lurched forward, uniform that of the anti-espionage unit. "Let me tell you something. Why do you think it is that we, the air-force squadron, don't always have laser canons on our planes already? We were researching such weapons, until the data suddenly disappeared, alongside all the backups. And then, the Weasel Unit suddenly appears with flying laser weapons? Granted, it works completely differently that ours were supposed to work, and we knew that old weasel worked on a lot of lasers in general, but it is still suspicious...they deserve to be punished..."
In the dark passageways, alliances were formed.
The wolves had searched the situation room as thoroughly as they knew how, even briefly removing the Weasel Unit seal from the wall to check behind it for bugs. The seal itself was elaborate and full of meaning. A gift from rabbit village, it signified the acknowledgement of the smaller species to the sovereignty of the weasel’s home country in the southern half of the peninsula.
The detailed pattern and small size of the concealed device hid the fact that it was a passive cavity resonator. Sound-waves from voices in the room forced a hidden antennae to vibrate, transmitting the conversations back to Flower Hill, but only if a radio frequency was transmitted from an outside observation post. Almost undetectable, for the most part. An ingenious work by the rabbits, who knew that if Flower Hill fell, it was possible that they would be next, or that relations would get very sour and annoying.
The three commanders, their strategists, and the trusted aides gathered in their own situation room, listening intently to the broadcast until it was finished. The only sound was that of some papers rustling, writing utensils scratching as important information was taken down, backups in case the recording device did not catch everything.
Finally, the room relaxed. Commander Goseumdochi was the first to rise. “This is not the worst-case situation. The planted video tapes worked fine, helping to clear suspicion. We do have assets within Usuhan Jiyeog, with documents of Geumsaegi and Juldarami’s births and childhood inside the village in question just in case of such a scenario.”
“And what if the wolves and weasels see through that deception?” The commanding squirrel asked.
“That is, unfortunately, something that will have to be figured out if it comes to it. the assets and documents inside the village were already contingency plans, but should be far enough away that the enemy would not think we had any influence. If they try to look too deeply into the assets records as well, however, we may have a serious problem, but it may be too late to fix any flaws in the plan...”
But for now, there was something important they needed to take care of. In the old days of the caste system, the White-Naped cranes had been priests and shamans, helping to uplift the religion that claimed that the separation of the species was holy, so that one species could lead for the good of all. For the most part, the cranes still took part in shamanistic rituals and operas, as well as fortune telling and spiritual matters.
There appeared to be three groups. The ones that lived within Usuhan Jiyeog took the roles of shrine keepers for significant areas. The physiognomy the cranes practiced had always been popular within the Weasel Kingdoms, and even residents of Flower Hill participated in Saju fortune telling on occasion, despite shamanism in general falling out of practice as the inhabitants learned it was better to take their lives into their own hands. Although, it was easy for the Flower Hill commanders and analysts to find that in Usuhan Jiyeog, it was mainly rich weasels who participated in closed door ceremonies in which the occupant was declared to have a great future as a commander or general in the Weasel Unit. Not a large surprise, considering such roles were usually hereditary, anyway, and the weasels in question would have been raised and trained for such positions. No one appeared to question the tradition, although several weasels had been seen to have their reality broken as their brute force 'strategies' crumpled under the force of an actual defensive army, and not unguarded villages that could be occupied with minimal resistance. If the soldiers around Flower Hill attempted to secretly collect photos or videos of these moments for their own entertainment and morale boosts, the command staff would pretend not to notice.
As per the old traditions, a selection of the mudang performed as kisaeng, entertainers in dancing and singing. The opera performers appeared to shy away from fortune telling, having long ago been forbidden from participating, instead opting to focus on their arts, which was just fine with most of Flower Hill. Surely, their in-depth performances would keep them out of trouble, and bring true joy to the populace. The commanders in Cherry Valley had allowed the building of a proper Gwonbeon, an institution for the training and proper education of such performers, that could be closely watched by the Flower Hill government.
It was the preachers that were the problem, following their original path. The majority of the cranes believed that trouble would befall the world if the species of Flower Hill did not submit to the separation, with them providing all of the guidance. The White-Naped cranes had been acting suspicious of late, claiming holy orders from Chongsu, the supreme leader of the traditional shaman groups, to reunite the species and move them back into separate villages based on classes and jobs. A preaching that was easily ignored as the relics of a bygone age. However, as a migrating species, it made the commanders apprehensive in how many of the birds insisted on traveling to Teikoku every year, often returning late and praising the caste system as if it would somehow work in a modernized era. Not even Teikoku followed the caste system after the civil wars, suggesting that the cranes were traveling to an extremist location within the land, although this was a worry that had yet to be verified. While the higher class of White-Naped Cranes provided much needed medicine for Flower Hill, it was nothing that they could not get from another, more friendly, entity or country. It was just convenient to have them continue with the medicine making, even if it meant allowing them to preach and partially follow the old values. Even they could not be brash enough to poison life saving materials for such a large population.
As it was, stories of the bomb attack on the wolf’s compound, other 'explosive' incidents, and attempts to lure off young individuals into their ranks had managed to spread through the lands. There were questions that needed to be asked. If the White-Naped cranes, that claimed allegiance to Flower Hill, were conducting terrorist attacks on an enemy, then the international community would criticize their government style, and accuse them of deliberately attacking innocents. If it was proven they were acting on thier own, then the governing system would appear weak. Even worse, given how the cranes followed the old caste system, they would not have started such aggressive actions on their own. Either someone had their loyalty and was ordering the cranes to do so, or Chongsu had ordered it herself.
At the same time, the White-Naped Cranes were a minority species within Flower Hill. Investigating and entire species, or demanding that the whole species stop certain activities, could be seen as a forbidden purge of a targeted group. Especially since the entirety of the White-Naped Cranes had fully sided with Teikoku when they had invaded in an attempt to occupy the peninsula, several generations ago. The cranes were clearly hostiles not to be trusted as a group. They would have to go about an investigation very carefully.
It had been difficult to receive an audience from Chongsu. The high priests typically surrounded the young chick, making sure that no one could harm her, given the shaman’s poor reputations with the rest of the population. And also, preventing her from seeing much of the outside world.
But they did have someone they needed the crane to bless with a traditional healing ritual, in order for him to return to his life as a proper soldier. Naturally, that would take precedence over what contrived notions and fears the birds had for outsiders that did not conform to their orders.
Bamsaegi coughed harshly as the small group was escorted down the long, richly decorated hallways, lungs pumping with difficulty from the lingering poison in his system. The cranes did not need to know the details, nor did they care. It was a chance to show off to the military commanders hosting them on their land, to get into their good graces and a foot in the door.
The young tangol crane could be seen within the next room, wearing a bright red magoja with a blue chosŏn-ot underneath. A black gat made from horsehair and bamboo covered her eyes, so that the spirits that entered her would not affect anyone else by accident. Her visible feathers ruffled in concern as Bamsaegi coughed again, wet and productive.
Commander Darami began. “Chongsu, it is nice to see you again. I still remember when you were just a little chick, fresh from the egg.” It had been quite the ceremony, as the birth of a new tangol shaman from such a renowned family of healers required much fanfare, in order to gain the attention of the spirits that would possess and speak through her.
“Dearest, commanders, stewards of the lands, it is quite an honor for us to be graced with your presence. I do hope you are doing well. I do hope that my priests have been quite helpful in the lands of Flower Hill outside my humble abode.” She began to mix the herbs that would be used in the healing ritual, waiting for the water nearby to start boiling on a mobile stove.
“Yes, quite well.” Commander Goseumdochi was the next to speak. “The operas are continuing to grow in finesse and popularity, and the traditional rituals continue perfectly, as does the medical supplies. Although, I do worry at how important buildings tend to explode when your missionary priests are around, when the passersby ignore them.”
The crane began to look up in mild alarm, almost allowing her eyes to show. “Oh? Are they not behaving themselves as I-”
“The spirits wish to give a grand display at the magnificence of your grace, and provide some lights!” The priests interjected, clearly ready to end the audience if their charge was exposed to any outside knowledge of trouble. That would not do.
“Oh, how wonderful! I am glad that they are able to spread their assistance throughout the lands. I do so wish for all species to get along with each other and live in harmony!” The claim was the sincere joy of a child.
The ritual was long, but soothing, sitting on the ground. Herbs were mixed and burned as Chongsu hummed, communing with the spirits only she could see and hear. An effigy of Bamsaegi was burned. The ritual was completed once again, and then a final, third time. As the steam and smoke filled the air, the coughing subsided, eventually fading away as the illness was removed, ending the successful ritual.
It was after the ceremony, when the commanders were speaking quietly and amicably with the guards and priests, that the young crane was allowed to lift up her hat and finally greet the young squirrel.
“Your ritual was quite interesting! I owe you much gratitude”
“It was nothing but what was passed down by my family and their techniques. But I must say that I owe you much appreciativeness for your help with the creation of the motorways! With increased travel ability, the medicine we White-Naped Cranes produce should be able to be distributed all the faster. Species will be able to come together better and become one, and avoid the illnesses that arise.”
She shuddered, slightly, expression turning to one of confusion. “I do wish to be able to…to be able to…to…to be able to meet Dr. Dudeoji one day! Do bring…bring…bring…him with you next time, I wish to bless him as well.”
The stuttering and lilting had caught the attention of the priest guards. “You must leave immediately. Our Sungmo must not be seen by the uninitiated when she becomes fully possessed by the spirits!”
At the mention of the name Sungmo, Chongsu frowned, her sudden angry glare at the older cranes going unnoticed. The cranes ushered the trio out as the bird began to twitch in earnest.
“Bamsaegi, do you understand what it was you witnessed inside the palace?” Commander Goseumdochi asked, once they had returned to their armored car for the trip back to Cherry Valley.
“I believe I do understand. Her mother, who died suddenly after being ‘possessed by violent spirits,’ did she also have the epilepsy?” The squirrel responded.
“It is believed that she did in fact pass away during one of her seizures.” The hedgehog confirmed.
“It was a very short initial aura phase. But she seemed to know it was coming and what to do about it.” Bamsaegi tried to recall what he knew about epilepsy from his medic training. For the most part, epileptics were excused from conscription. Most seizures he knew about were short term, caused by concussions and other injuries, although recognizing late onset epilepsy had been a short footnote.
“And what do you think about the healing ritual?” Commander Darami asked.
“It was about what anyone would do for a cold. Fill up a room with steam, it would make breathing easier for anyone, and the herbs to help soothe the throat.” Once the commanders had recognized that Bamsaegi had managed to catch a cold, their plan had been put into action immediately. The traditional ritual had been soothing, more so than modern medicines, but not secret nonetheless. The herbs used in the steam were easily processed into pills and lozenges for immediate relief, or put into teas for a quieter experience, elsewhere.
The car was quiet for a while, before Bamsaegi finally spoke up. “Was this visit to gauge how much Chongsu knows about the attacks and possible attempted kidnappings that occur when the populace does not listen to the priests?”
“What exactly did you think of Chongsu and her lead over the cranes?” the hedgehog commander’s voice was even, the squirrel looking straight ahead.
“…I do not believe that she is in full control of the shamans and priests. She did appear very upset when they called her Sungmo, which is not what a mudang should be called. And I don’t think it was because she insisted on the name in private. My brother had me meet with the previous Chongsu when she used to visit. The chick follows the ways in a more traditional manner, but the adults are a bit strange...” Bamsaegi tapped his feet as he spoke, excited to be able to give information to his beloved Commanders, to compare and contrast the methods and techniques used by the previous and current leader of the White-Naped Cranes.
Commander Goseumdochi nodded, expression resolute and stern, almost angry. “That is a very astute observation. Her biggest wish and command from since she was a young child has always been for all races and species to get along with each other in harmony. However, she may not have realized that as the ‘supreme ruler’ of the cranes, any casual utterance for such could easily be misconstrued as a command for her people to reinstate the old caste system, by any means possible, even if it results in kidnapping and a great loss of life. The epilepsy keeps her homebound, allowing for corrupt priests to twist her words, and perhaps find a secret, other leader that would instruct them in the destabilization of Our Hill, likely one from our enemy's home!. The stories persist of the luxuries the White-Naped Cranes used to enjoy, and some of them will stop at nothing to gain that privilege.” Many old legends around the Peninsula consisted of heroes and scouts gaining guidance from the White-Naped Crane Priests on their travels, in palaces filled with gold and jade, and many loyal followers who worshiped the cranes as much as the gods themselves. The ridiculous of it all actively turned the current youth away from the path.
“We do not currently know if the entirely of the White-Naped Cranes are a danger to Flower Hill and its populace, but their motives appear subversive enough, so they must be closely watched.” The multiple listening devices the squirrel and duck soldiers had places around the palace had would make sure of that. They needed to know who they worked for, who they were spying for. “The enemies will stop at nothing to occupy Our Hill even if it means using the innocence of children! If we feel that they are a danger, we must take matters into our own hands and bring Chongsu and the other cranes to justice, no matter the cost!”
Notes:
The passive cavity resonator was in fact, a soviet spy device hidden inside a seal. It was called The Thing, or The Great Seal Bug.
Chongsu sounds like she is speaking a bit like Teen Titans Starfire to me for some reason.
Chapter 9: ...The Mice Will Play
Summary:
With the commanders busy, and Geumsaegi temporarily out of the picture, their soldiers gathered to discuss how they felt about the war and their leaders. But within Flower Hill, the surviving remnants of Tokgasi finally gather together. Unable to return to the Weasel Unit after their loss, they make their plans to strike at the very heart of Cherry Valley to get their revenge.
Notes:
Bear with me on this one, we will get back to Geumsaegi in the next chapter.
I axed a few plotlines because I could not make them work, but then something happened and they work again, so I need to set it up here, which is why this chapter is longer than I would like. But it would ruin a joke to split it up.
Anyway, I was looking up research on Japanese weasels, and found out they come from three specific areas of Japan, Honshu, Kyushu, and Shikoku. Well, I know about the three Ceremonial/Imperial Regalia of Japan, and have been reading Usagi Yojimbo, which features the sword in one of the myriad versions of The Tale of the Heike, an epic poem of Japanese history that was finally written down about 200 years after the events.
Which gives me some great ideas for the backstory between Flower Hill and the Weasel Unit.
Explanations of names, terms, and translations are at the end.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Everyone in Usuhan Jiyeog knew the old stories. How could they not? In the bleak land they had to live upon, the old legends procured at least a small modicum of hope for the future. Hope that their lives could be better one day, if they just kept on surviving together, using each other, reclaimed what was rightfully theirs, and managed to teach Flower Hill how to behave. Afterwards, everything would be better, surely.
As the unknown sea raged around them, lightning flashing in the distance, errant waves and explosions thrown up by the barbarians’ turtle ships threatened to swamp the Teikoku imperial navy, with some ships already destroyed and sinking. Harpoons, spears, and arrows only pinged against the hardened hulls, boarding parties sliding as they found themselves unable to find purchase on the structure as they jumped, all dropping uselessly into the churning ocean if not impaled by the protruding spikes. Their original targets, the merchant and fishing vessels, finally became specks in the background as they made their own ways towards the safety of their unknown homeland.
The three weasel princes on the flagship glanced around, known by the names of the prefectures governed by their warlord fathers. Tonbo stood enraged, gripping the Yūki no ken as he stared with bloodshot eyes at the abominations blocking his victory. No amount of valor provided by the sword would save him from the humiliations of such a crushing defeat. Genkan could see no truth to victory in the Michi no kagami, no matter how much he polished it, wisdom suggesting that the battle in and of itself had been an incredible folly. They had only wanted the civilians for information, after all, not to start a fight with an enemy they had not known used such strange tactics. Kairo was already placing the ceremonial magatama into their box, as if peacefully storing them for the night.
It was supposed to be a simple invasion and occupation, as it had been so many other times as they neared the foretold peninsula on the other side of the ocean, towards their destined occupation of the rabbit homeland beyond it, their former allies. In order to conquer the country of the rabbits and their lands, they first needed to take the peninsula connected to it in order to gain a foothold for supplies and new recruits. The barbarians on their small island kingdoms would fall to the might of the Imperial Regalia and their bearers time and time again, and come to join the glory that was Teikoku. Small colonies of soldiers would ensure the loyalty of the area for generations to come.
Instead, it appeared as if they were being bested in battle for the first time, captains of the ships unable to control the movements in the strait, so dependent on sails and rowers used to regular waters that they had not taken unusual currents into account. Currents that their opponents had clearly mastered.
The one saving grace was that the opposing navy had only been in the area for training when the Imperial Navy tried to intimidate the civilian crafts into surrendering peacefully. Otherwise, there would have been a lot more ordinance firing back, sinking more ships than the risky ramming had. As it was, the generals on the ships appeared bent on capturing them, specifically, pointing at the group and miming the items they held, laughing and taunting. As if they knew who they were, and the appearance of the great princes did not frighten them as they should.
They would have to do the unthinkable, the old ceremony that was to be done if the royals were to be captured alongside the Ceremonial Regalia. A ceremony that had barely been listened to, but memorized in a laughable way, since it would never happen, surely. A quick prayer from the priest, and as the turtle boats closed in, the three princes dove into the sea.
Alone, with only his most trusted advisors who knew how to jump out of the way of his wrath, the Tiger Emperor of Teikoku raged in his throne room. Had it been a mistake to adopt those idiots after all? They barely listen! The royal advisors should have warned them not to get too arrogant! Then again, the noble advisors and informants have been acting strangely, as if THEY want to revolt...I should test them...
The emperor needed an heir. He and his empress had been trying for decades to have a child, but the fates had not blessed them with any. So, surely, they were expected to adopt the strongest in the land? His adopted sons had been the children of the three most powerful warlords he could find. All three of the lords willingly giving up their children to him was a sign that he was on the right path, and was not to relinquish the rule to the next in line in the kazoku. Besides, the next in line with royal blood was a fox of all things, far less superior than a tiger.
But still, the sons had proven themselves to be blind fools, unlike their fathers. They had only ever rushed in to take over some outside land, with brute force. And the moment they had come into contact with a competent enemy, they had been wiped out. I had them trained for this! They know all about tactics, how could they have lost? This does not bode well for when they reach the mainland and its meager forces.
Their padlocked houses were lavish and extraordinary, complete with attractive servants. But to the princes, they knew it was a prison that they might never be allowed to leave. They had waited too long to jump, allowed the enemy to get close enough to know that they were going to jump, and to prepare to retrieve them. The opposing army had fished out the individuals, as well as the servants who had jumped with them, reluctantly or not. Held captive in the holds of the ships, their father, the great tiger Emperor, previously unbeatable, was forced to pay a large sum of money for their safe return. The only reason they had not been executed on the spot, was because the barbarians had not managed to retrieve the Regalia on their own. The water was shallow enough that an experienced diver, such as a river otter, should be able to find them, provided they were fast and hidden enough.
On a distant shore, the storm was ending, dangerous waves no longer crashing down on the beaches, but still leaving the possibility for interesting finds. The wizened mouse tilted its head as he walked along the shore, cane sinking into the sand, having left the other members of the village inspecting the damage to crops and trees. Age had taught him that good fortune could occasionally be found on the beach after such a tempest, or at least someone needing to be rescued, or given their final rites. And indeed, something unnaturally shiny was drifting towards the seashore, bobbing as it did. The mouse moved to investigate, concerned. Did a boat sink out there? Should we mount a search party?
Slowly, eventually, he reached the box as it landed on the shore before the waves dragged it away again. Ornate, covered in inscriptions the mouse supposed to be in foreign script, as if he could read at all. It was nice that the younger generation was allowed to learn, though, despite their positions as peasants. He might even have to ask one of them, in secret, and tease them if they also did not understand. He lifted the box up. Sealed completely, with even the keyhole closed. This might be something important, if it has been sealed up like this. A key jangled underneath, attached to a chain. He had to know if the contents were dangerous, or if it was some kind of funeral urn he should throw back out into the sea after all. Unlocking and opening the box, he was met with cloth more luxurious than he had even seen. Simply touching the material made him worry that he had soiled something precious, soft as it was. Inside the box were several arched jewels, both ancient and regal at the same time, made out of material unknown to him…
No…!
Young pups laughed behind him, their older siblings not too far behind. “Janglo, have you found anything? Have you found anyone?” someone called out. There were often rewards for returning important items found washed up on the beach, something that could help the village.
“I have not yet, I am afraid,” He responded, hiding the box in his cloak, as well as the tremble in his voice. Bad luck. This will bring nothing but trouble if I do not take it to an authority. It may have already put us in grave danger. “The waves are higher than usual. I want the youngest to go home, and only the older siblings to assist in the search,” he lied. If someone came along looking for the jewels, he did not want the children to experience the violence that would follow. The youngsters did as the elder ordered, none the wiser.
Tonbo, Genkan, and Kairo bowed flat at the emperor’s feet as he paced back and forth. “My sons…you are fortunate I am giving you one more chance. The magatama have been found upon the far-off peninsula and have been returned. Which means those peasants must have found the other two items, and are holding on to them for themselves! We must invade to retrieve our treasures and teach them a lesson in trying to deceive Teikoku!”
Unspoken, it was urgent that the royal court retrieve the items that proved their superiority. The expansions and creation of colonies had drained the coffers even more than the ransom for the navy had. Furthermore, the loss of the Imperial Regalia had led to even the advisors side eyeing the emperor, as if questioning his ability in keeping a few sacred objects safe. And if the advisors were questioning him, then the lower castes were almost in full revolt, striving to break out of their stations and overthrow his family, as they sat in their rightful place. Surely, the universe would make it so that the weasels, tools of his supremacy, were victorious? Which meant he should be giving them one more chance.
The peninsula should be weak, the reports had said. The rulers in the higher castes had recently been deposed by the peasants in recent memory. Which meant, in the confusion that must be reigning with the lack of a proper leader, the land was free for the taking.
Barking alarms, mere peasant squirrels playing at defense had fled in the face of the larger enemies bearing down on them. The victorious weasels rushed forwards, spears and swords at the ready, prepared to ravage the squirrels crouched motionless in their holes, others hidden behind leaves as if they thought the trees could protect them from their opponents. How much fun it would be to surprise these rodents in the knowledge that weasels were also somewhat arboreal! Even, perhaps, a way to terrify and demean the few survivors they would allow. The squirrels pointed their own, flat tipped spears at the approaching horde, as if they were trying and protect themselves from what would be their end. The weasels could only laugh as they ran forward, ready to feel waves of blood that would stain their fur as their heads were removed.
The tips of the strange spears burst into flame and smoke, as loud bangs rang through the air. Flesh was ripped from bone, arteries severed, bodies dropping silently in groups, as Teikoku became aware of the concept of firearms and black powder for the first time.
A larger force the second time around, but with more shields. The previous few battalions must have been taken out by some kind of fluke, or the will of fate. Naturally, the fates would want the royals to be victorious, so they had stymied the process of retrieving their Imperial Regalia for the reason of creating a good victorious story. The princes signaled for the charge, angry and frustrated weasels finally able to take it out on the small brown creatures with strange fur in front of them, apparently whatever counted as a weak, pathetic army the peninsula could muster. The shots rang out again.
Back in the homeland of Teikoku, the complaints about expenses and lack of food began to grow louder, with even the middle castes beginning to feel the drawstrings tighten as the emperor and his family feasted. Questions abounded over the increasing amounts of missing soldiers. In back alleys and the dark of fields, support for the fox as a replacement emperor grew.
The invasion and occupation of the peninsula had dragged on for several long years, slowly pushing the peasants up north through sheer numbers, losing many reserves, but finally, finally, progress had been made. Similarities had been found between Teikoku’s Green Pheasants and this strange lands White-Naped Cranes, with the latter acquiescing in assisting the weasels in any way they could, providing much needed intel, medicine, and entertainment via the kisaeng. The birds were easy to manipulate, given the loss of their once grand positions in the caste system when it had been destroyed. It was easy to offer them a safe spot to migrate in the weasel homeland, instead of their regular areas that disrespected them. And thanks to a distraction brought about by a group of hired kisaeng, Tonbo had managed to capture a group of the odd, brown creatures.
He observed, gleeful in his victory, eyes full of mirth as his soldiers learned to watch their hands, lest they be stuck with some small spines as they bound the prisoners to poles near one of the fires in the center of the encampment. Finally. Things were looking up. Naturally, they would need to be questioned, but that could wait until the morning. Thematically, interrogation was better at night, but in an unfamiliar land, their screams might draw help towards them that might otherwise avoid the area. Still, it made sense from a strategic standpoint to execute one of them in front of the others, leave the corpse tied to them as it became cold. Teach them the sensation and fear of death.
The strange weapon had been easy for a warrior like himself to figure out. Guns. Rifles. Quite similar to the fire lance the rabbits had shown them once, only spewing projectiles instead of fire. Currently in use by many cowardly countries afraid to get their hands dirty with actual combat, apparently. He might have to buy some for the weaker soldiers, perhaps. All he had to do was point the flat end towards the target, and pull the trigger. Tonbo turned, aiming at the nearest, low-ranking hedgehog, as he had learned they were called. Some type of needle covered mouse. Enough of a novelty that he might let the rest of the group live, to be shipped back home as objects of curiosity for a time. The low-class soldier turned to stare him in the eyes, giving the weasel pause. No one had ever looked at him that way and lived, with such disgust and rage, and worst of all defiance, with a hint of pity. He did not like it. He needed it to stop. He pulled the trigger.
The hedgehogs laughed at him as the gun, unloaded, failed to release the specter of death, with the cackles stopping short as to not aggravate their captors too much. Tonbo threw the useless item to the ground as he took himself to his tent. It was imperative that he did not show his utter frustration to his troops, lest they turn against him, sensing weakness.
It was sometime later in the night that Tonbo’s rage and impatience overcame him, forcing him into grabbing his dagger. The royal weasel would have his revenge, teach the hedgehog a lesson on how things should be in the world. The smaller creatures should be quaking in fear, begging for his mercy.
He reached the pole where the hedgehogs were tied, camp guards lounging around, not able to get in the way of the prince’s whims. He grabbed the hedgehog by its chin, forcing him to look dispassionately upwards towards his face. “Do you really think you could get away with your disrespect? By the time we are done with you, no one will recognize what species you are. Maybe I will go easy on you if you beg to apologize…”
“현지 언어를 배우느라 고생하셨나요? 토끼는 심지어 다른 말을 합니다…무능한 놈들아, 이름만 보고 토끼 마을이 작은 곳인 줄 아니?
The hedgehog responded in a foreign tongue, tone not at all respectful, or with even a small bit of reasonable fear, unlike the cranes. A hint of amusement, perhaps, at the lack of information they would be able to obtain after all. In the firelight, another hedgehog smirked, flicking an ear.
Well, begging would sound the same in any language, surely. Dropping the chin, the weasel instead clawed an ear, dragging the owner forward, intending to bring it to the end of the tether and make it beg for the pressure on his wrists to stop- only the hedgehog came forward the entire way, throwing him off balance. The lowly creature was now pinning him to the ground, knocking the knife out of his paw as a long spine was pressed to his throat.
His personal guards shouted, moving to rescue their lordship, only for similar spines to pierce their throats and chests, chaotic movements revealing more of the same from long dead guards.
Their spines can be removed and use like a knife in order to cut bindings, Tonbo realized far too late. It was as if their capture had all been a part of a plan by the inferior barbarian army.
The execution of those with royal and noble blood was unheard of, sacrilegious, even. Granted, they had been adopted by the childless emperor, but their own fathers all had superior blood of their own, that was not to be spilled except for in a glorious battle. Surely, there was a misunderstanding caused by their failure to grasp the proper language of Teikoku? The declaration that they would be given a short time to prepare themselves as a false threat to scare them? It would make much more sense to ransom the princes back to their own county, if not simply sent back in shame as a detriment to the armies.
“The emperor will pay you back triple fold for this insult!” Tombo screamed, as he sat bound on the ground in front of a group of hedgehog generals. They appeared unconcerned.
“Father will not be happy if he has to pay for us again. Fucking bastards,” Kairo muttered under his breath. With the creation of several more settlements, any more draining of the treasury would be a catastrophic loss.
“It is for the best…for everyone’s futures…that you release us.” Genkan tried, used to everyone following his strategies. “The emperor will keep sending soldiers to fight with you. It will be best if you return what you have taken and join with the power of Teikoku to defeat the rabbits. Do you not feel threatened with such a large country run by a near single species nearby? They also have no interest in helping you…”
He realized his mistake as the hedgehogs paused to glare, and then share looks. Clearly, the fools considered the rabbits their allies.
The generals snapped to attention, allowing in another set of hedgehogs with some tea, gently kneeling in front of the captives, showing respect for the first time since they had arrived, quieting the group
“At least bring us some food to eat with our tea!” Kairo snarled, ruining the moment. The other two stared in confusion at the black sludge mixed in with the liquid.
“It is highly recommended that the ritual sasa be consumed on an empty stomach. The arsenic and sulfur have been procured quite fresh, so the effects should be very quick if not completely painless.” The voice of the lead hedgehog was calm, steady. The weasels were confused.
It was the servants and frightened royal advisors that spoke up, huddling closer together, as the princes sputtered in disbelief. “Please, be reasonable! They are royals! Returning the princes and their servants will gain you much respect and many rewards if they are returned to their proper country! You will be viewed more favorably by the military, as well.”
Around them, soldiers laughed, until one of the superiors spoke up. “I do believe that the deaths of their princes would be far more detrimental to the invading military than letting them live. The sasa is a more peaceful death compared to the usual hanging we give to commoners. But we will have some mercy. Your group are just servants. Most of you had no choice in the matter, although some of you fully support the invasion. We will sort through to determine which is which. We can let your children integrate into our society, and teach them how to live properly, to work hard for themselves, without resorting to such barbaric invasions and occupations.” Screams rang out from the weasels, some servants appearing relieved, even hopeful, as if seeing a chance at a brighter future, while others raged at the indignity. The royal advisor appeared ecstatic, his mate sobbing into his bushy tail, although a small smile could be seen.
The power of the hedgehogs forced the liquid and sludge down. Dozens of sets of eyes laid on the weasels as their cardiovascular and respiratory systems finally slowed to a stop, far bloodier from the resulting exsanguination than expected with the fresher ingredients. Once dead, a sharp axe was procured. The heads would be placed on pikes, as a traditional hyosu warning, while out of respect for their positions, the bodies would be sent back to Teikoku for a proper burial.
Surprisingly, the hyosu planted in the middle of the peninsula did its job. The invading weasels, setting up small encampments turned villages along the coast, were too afraid to move past the bloodstained heads of their royal princes, while the northern half was controlled by the original inhabitants.
The return of the prince’s bodies had been done out of genuine respect and honor for those of royal blood. A message to the invading country that they were willing to engage in peaceful diplomacy, as was the traditions they had learned about the enemy. It was not meant to be the inciting factor in the resulting riots, and the concept of decapitation being seen as a dishonorable insult in the invaders’ culture had not been noticed beforehand. Fear gripped the land at the return of the bodies, shattering what little remained of the imperialist mindset. So many had been lost, from both the drafted failing to return from the battles, or from the resulting starvation and sickness from the depletion of skilled workers and farmers. And if the emperor was willing to continue the battles after losing his own sons, then what did he think of his own people? They had to act, quickly.
Removing the tiger emperor had been a bloody, but quick affair. From the main house, the fox was chosen as the new emperor, who promptly called for swift and practical reformations to save his people. The caste system was abolished, land returned to farmers and peasants, most conquered areas allowed to regain their independence. It was time to focus on themselves instead of outward, heal instead of attack, and try to prevent their entire civilization from collapsing under the weight of the mistakes of the previous rulers, who only cared for their own power over the lives of the citizens.
But the now forming colonies on the southern part of the peninsula were loyal to the old government, and would not cease in following the old orders. The fox’s own authority waning as the citizens requested that the emperor be stripped of most political power, he was forced to relinquish the army stranded on the peninsula, which began to form their own society.
At the very least, the fox emperor could participate in the negotiations between his errant soldiers and the newly formed country of Flower Hill. Eventually, the weasels returned to their occupied coastal villages, battle weary, yet not wanting to believe that all their fighting had been for naught. Surely, they would be able to conquer the inland regions, someday?
But the issue still remained, passed along in whispered rumors, that the newly formed Flower Hill had stolen the other two Imperial Regalia for themselves, no doubt using them to claim their own legitimacy and rule. They needed to be returned, to their rightful place, to the rightful owners, along with the heads of the royals.
Rumors abounded, that before he was removed, the Great Tiger had issued a proclamation. Whosoever, no matter the species, that managed to return the sword and the mirror to Teikoku, would gain the royal blood. They would gain the new title of emperor, and with power beyond his wildest dreams, would see Teikoku rise far beyond its former glory.
All one needed was the strength and the chance. The opportunity to occupy or even sneak into Flower Hill, find the sword and mirror, and sneak back to Teikoku. A scout’s job, really, and one full of glory. One had to find that opportunity, use anyone and anything at their disposal, and seize it as hard as they could.
Jollin had always been opportunistic, but not that much. He was not stupid, like the others, who fit in properly. He would happily settle for being able to eat at least one small meal every day, maybe every other day in the winter times, when the snow poured down and prevented the crops and fish from thriving.
Dormice might have been a rare species in Usuhan Jiyeog, but they were still classified as mice by the weasels, nonetheless. Mere labor for the weasel lords that controlled the lands he lived in. Jollin had heard of a central government that was supposed to keep all the small kingdoms in check, but that was far above his station. He just had to do and act as the most powerful weasel in the area wished.
From the time he was born, his parents schemed to have him assigned to the fields in the weasel lord’s lands, instead of the usual death sentence that was the far harsher mines. After all, they would need someone to take care of them if they managed to grow old, and they could starve to death if no one in the family could work. It was only fair, in order for them to survive together. They made sure to show him the decrepit bodies and cries of the miners left to rot once they were no longer useful, terrifying him into understanding.
Instead of playing as he saw weasel children do, Jollin elected to follow around the mice workers and head farmers as they went about their duties in the fields. For one, watching would make it easier for him to figure out what it was he was supposed to do when he was old enough to handle the tools and seeds. But it also allowed for him to be seen by the weasel overseers, so they could notice his interest and make the decision for him to be placed on the farms when he came of age. The workers did not mind stopping to teach a small pup, as it allowed them to take a desperately needed rest without fearing the overseers’ whips or canes.
It was easy for him to note the exhaustion and stress injuries on the bodies of the adults, a foretelling of what was going to happen to him. Still, he had seen the miners a few times, covered in a different variety of scrapes and burns that often led to crippling injuries. It would be far better in the fields, unless he could prove himself useful or amusing enough to earn an alternative. There was always the possibility of becoming a ‘favorite’ of the weasel lord’s family, and thus being brought in as a servant. But Jollin knew he did not look the part, with the furred and bushy tail. At most, he learned to mind the overseers, to ask and run quick to fetch what they wanted. Soon enough, the overseers would involve him in the gossip and rumors, as he watched to learn when to laugh and make disparaging or praising comments on the subject at hand, depending on the mood. It was a nice way to gain information about the rest of the world, as well as a quick break.
Supposedly, other weasel lords allowed their workers more freedom and access to goods from the outside world, but he had no way to verify that. One simply did not talk to mice from another weasel lord. They would just come together and work as normal, only speaking after a longer period of time, and it was not good to question how his lord ran and controlled his area.
Jollin’s tail was a problem, along with his distinctive darker patches. As a dormouse, it was rather furry, almost like a squirrel. And with squirrels being the enemy, he was an easy target for young mice who still had the energy to want to fight someone, or for weasels looking for a servant to take their cruelty out on. He was lucky to be forced into hard labor in the fields instead of being shot on the spot for his appearance. No one would have complained, least of all the weasels. Mice were plentiful.
Once, a dormouse from another family had finally broken, and listened to their instincts to climb a nearby tree. The overseers had shot him off a branch, where he was promptly accused of being a squirrel and executed. Jollin had only heard half of the pleas, the appeal that he could make for a good lookout. No one had listened. How could they be so stupid? Only crows can be used as lookouts. After all, crows did not have the hands needed for hard labor, but their ability to fly elevated them in status to the weasels. Of course, only they would get that kind of comfortable job.
Sometimes, in the spring or fall when the breeze pushed gently through the fields, the trees called to him as well, reminding him of the ill-fated dormouse whose name he had never known. He could not answer the call.
Farming was, of course, a squirrel’s job, far below the station of a mouse. The work was hard and brutal, sweltering in warmer months, and freezing cold during the winter. They did not even get to eat most of what they grew. Instead, the crops were shredded to be fed to the fish the obligate carnivore weasels depended on, with the peasants getting what was left once the weasels were satisfied. Just enough to keep them alive and working.
From a young age, he made his plan. Flower Hill. The bastards keeping the food and medicine from them. Everyone had heard the stories, of how they had stolen the Imperial Regalia from the holy lands of Teikoku, who had left them on the peninsula as a punishment until the sacred items were returned. Both the north and the south were connected via the region, but travel was forbidden as the north held on to the items. It was only fair that both sides try and survive together, but the other insisted on keeping everything to themselves.
Once Teikoku returned to reclaim its colonies, everything would be fine, and prosperity would reign. Or so the weasels and cranes said. Prosperity for who, exactly?
It was if the northern reaches of the peninsula were keeping everyone hostage. The majority the farmers had left, of course, possibly preferring to be with their own kind, leaving those behind to struggle, especially during the winter months, when the weasels had collected the harvests and left the rest of the villages with barely enough to survive. As dormice, at least, his family could hibernate during the winter, unlike the other mice who had to be awake as the hunger clawed agonizingly at their bellies.
But Flower Hill hoarded the food from them all, food that could be shared so they could all survive, so they did not have the bury the ones who could not survive when the ground thawed in the spring. Stories abounded of the lush and fertile lands, how food simply grew from the soil with barely any help from the farmers. But Flower Hill wanted it all for themselves, fucking greedy bastards that they were. The residents of the south were not allowed to emigrate to join them, not even as seasonal workers for the grand harvests. Other nations and villages outside of Flower Hill were allowed to join, but mice and weasels were deliberately excluded. He wanted in. He wanted revenge, as they all did.
Jollin had heard that the enemy had enough food to have feasts and play games all throughout the colder months, when the days were short, when everyone should be sitting still to conserve energy and heat. It had to be true. He had seen residents of Flower Hill before. Even the farmers fat and happy, eating when they pleased, in full view of everyone. Taunting them with the abundance they refused to share. Or maybe, outside of the policy makers, they were just stupid, and thought nothing of eating more for a mere snack than what most of the workers would eat in a day, if the harvests had been mediocre enough.
On occasion, during times of famine, shipments of food were sent from the north. But they only seemed to send enough for the superiors in the mansions and palaces who ran the lands, not the mouths of the common folk. During times of disease outbreaks, Flower Hill could send medicine, but never enough, and always when the outbreak had reached most of the population, almost rendering the aid moot.
How selfish. They do not deserve all of that! They should share in the bounty, so we can all survive. How dare they get to play around all winter while the rest of us starve!
The same could be said for the rest of the world. Well, they would show them, somehow. Or perhaps, not him, specifically. That was far above his station, as a mere dormouse. The White-Naped Cranes had said so, after all. They preached in the fields sometimes, reminding them of their positions in the greater scheme of things, how they needed to bow down to the weasels that were greater than them. As if a weasel needs a religion to tell them that they are superior to the smaller animals in Flower Hill? Ha!
The young dormouse suspected that most of the priests and shamans were flawed, but he could never say so outright, not when such a thought could get him severely punished. Young weasels who had been trained in battle from a young age would enter the temples, and emerge hours later with proclamations that they would win many battles. Naturally.
Sure, against rival villages, and the inland villages that did not have a lord taking care of them or offering protections. Skirmishes and land seizures were common, after all, with the strongest weasel like his lord holding the most land, if the Weasel Unit allowed it. Even his own lord had led the village to stand around a smaller rival’s lands with pitchforks, bombarding the defenders below until the landowner was killed. But against Flower Hill, he had heard of many weasels being outclassed, returning in what appeared to be utter disgrace, only to have renewed victory against a weaker rival. Clearly, the ‘you will win many battles’ was meant to be local, and attacking a larger area was biting off more than they could chew. The overseers appeared to hold the same concepts, although it was not something to be said out loud on his own. Their own lord was too smart to try something like that, preferring to send in scouts on occasion, but never making his own move with his own troops.
Still, Flower Hill was Jollin’s saving grace, if he did not want his body to be broken after many decades. If, or once, they managed to occupy the northern lands, the weasels could get their fish from the coastal areas, and the rest of the populace could get the fertile soil and residents to farm for them, as they should have as species beneath the weasels. Granted, mice and dormice shared the same caste as the residents of Flower Hill, but the weasels had promised them all much easier labor once there were more hands to work. He had seen some weasels keep promises before, so there was some hope.
While Jollin’s weasel lord knew better than to attack Flower Hill directly with his soldiers, he was still interested in infiltration. It appeared that Flower Hill did not know about dormice, given their rarity. Which meant, with their bushy tails, Flower Hill would simply assume they were squirrels. It was not unheard of for dormice to be rounded up by the Weasel Unit and sent in to infiltrate the enemy for tactical information, or to at least find and steal the Imperial Regalia for them.
Occasionally, an ambitious weasel lord would send a mouse disguised as a squirrel into Flower Hill to search. The government of Flower Hill was always kind enough to send the executed bodies back, of course. But the Weasel Unit always needed soldiers, which meant if he was picked up, he could volunteer to be a scout, actually trained, and make his way into Flower Hill.
Jollin was lucky that his parents had convinced the overseers to allow him to read more than what was taught to the young peasants, as well as to learn some hand-to-hand combat skills, on the off chance that he might be chosen by the Weasel Unit someday.
Not that he intended to look for the Imperial Regalia himself. Many boxes would float, after all, even full of jewelry, especially if there was air inside. Mirrors and swords would sink, and were likely still in the strait, rusting away if not already broken or buried under sediment. And even if he found the mirror and the sword in the enemy country, they were likely to be heavily guarded. How the fuck would they expect me to retrieve the items like that? And what good would it do me? They would take them from me and take the credit and power for themselves.
No, he was more interested in the opportunity to see Flower Hill for himself, possibly as a scout. Were the civilians as carefree and stupid as he had heard? Did they really believe that the famed Weasel Unit would never attack them? He had to know, see the looks on their faces as he dug his claws into their throats, took the land back for himself.
He had been away in the fields the first time the Weasel Unit scouting party had come through, looking for dormice, missing his chance. They had taken his parents, instead. They would be fine, surely. Sent in to infiltrate and maybe live in villages peacefully, as others had been sent to do. They might look a little strange, but if Flower Hill residents became used to slightly stranger looking squirrels, then it would be easier to invade. At least, that is what the overseers said when they clicked their tongues at seeing him still on the property. Still, the weasels were amused enough to inform him about the Scout Commander, in case his soldiers came back through.
Aekku was the name of the Scout Commander. He would have to remember that name, get acquainted with him if the opportunity arose. A scout in the army would just be sent in, but in a proper scout force, he could be trained and given a specific role, making everything easier. Barring that, he could always volunteer for a scouting mission if he was ever drafted, and then just…not come back, and do it the hard way.
When the scouting party came again the next time, they had pointed directly at him, and had gone straight to his lord. He saw the money be exchanged for him, as if he was one of those fancy fish sold in bowls, not for eating. As if he was in one of those lordless villages further inland that sold their residents to the Weasel Unit to survive. He had not thought his master was that bad off, but he had heard of some issues with the fish farms in the previous few years, decreasing the yield. Well, he did have a plan, so ignoring the insult, he did not resist when the soldier unit came to claim him.
Life had not been much better as a soldier. At least as a peasant farmer, he had his own house to sleep in, not in overcrowded barracks. The mice were loud, angry, and somewhat territorial, which was problem when so many of them were forced to share close quarters. The squabbles over food did not matter to him as much. He could hold his own in a fight beforehand, so the sergeants teaching them more physical combat, and how to shoot a gun, were only bonuses that would help him later.
It was not long before he was spotted by Tokgasi, before he could be sent to the front-lines where his face might be seen and memorized by Flower Hill soldiers. It was swift after that. His being able to read granted him an almost immediate position of scout to be sent into Flower Hill, since it allowed him to memorize code-words and plans.
He had miscalculated in him meeting Aekku, but it did not really matter to him. Aekku was simply the one with the plans. Tokgasi was the one who was involved in implementing it, finding the correct dormouse or field mouse or other species for the roles he needed in question. He just needed to trust Tokgasi until it was time for him to run off on his own. Tokgasi was just his vehicle to get closer to a better life.
Over time, he was given his role, and his backup role, known only to him, the leader of Tokgasi, and Aekku. Files were stored in a secret document. He was given his role, to kill and replace a squirrel, a known loner who had recently begun to come out of his shell after a horrible incident. There were many squirrels like that, especially after the original occupation had started, sending Flower Hill into brief disarray that still lasted in the smaller communities. Their identities were easy to steal. In case of emergencies, or if something happened in the short time period between the plan being formed and the replacements, a safe backup role was created until Tokgasi could find a new position.
It would be far too much work to kill and replace this one…
Jollin stared at the squirrel with whom he was supposed to swap places. The squirrel would be going out into the woods soon, all alone, to chop firewood for the coming nightfall. He made no plans to visit with anyone in the village, unless it was absolutely necessary. Just as it had been recorded. What Tokgasi had not fully documented, were the small children the squirrel had agreed to take care of. He just could not do it. Not that Jollin pitied the family, allowing the pups to live in complete ignorance of the dangers of the outside world was just plain idiotic. It would just be far too much work. Youngsters of that age always seemed to know when things were not right, and would act accordingly out of fear and curiosity. Since pups were involved, villagers would be coming by to see if the pups were alright far more frequently than they would have otherwise. On one hand, keeping children close by would allow for much easier conversation for him to gain the information Tokgasi wanted. On the other hand. Child care. Flower Hill actually took care of their children. His own parents had been considered doting by not wanting him to be sent to the mines, but it was mainly so he would be around to care for them when they got older. These pups might even be old enough to know that he was not their uncle. His first option was out.
This back up option is fucking shit! Geumbanji was a secret legend throughout Tokgasi. Successfully integrated into the society as a local librarian and historian, the mouse with the gold rings had many contacts. His job was to monitor and abduct few high-profile individuals from Flower Hill, including a well medaled Strategist Hedgehog and an up-and-coming military research scientist. They now lived in a secret compound, slowly being convinced to work for the good of Usuhan Jiyeog, with Flower Hill none the wiser.
Or so Tokgasi thought. Obviously, Flower Hill would be methodically searching for their abducted scientists. Geumbanji is at the center of all their lives, crossing paths at the schools and libraries. I DO NOT want to be around when that net gathers around him! It could happen any day, or it could never happen. He was not going to take his chances.
Well, his original plan had been to desert, anyway. Find a remote area, pretend to be a survivor of a village near the border, and maybe someone would take pity on him and give him an easy job, somewhere.
Of course they would have scouts! Stupid!
Either Flower Hill had been tipped off about there being an infiltration by the enemy, or he was repeatedly triggering some unseen sensors around the command center.
Police and soldiers searched the woods and the countryside, both from the ground and the tops of the trees. Undoubtedly, some squirrels must have been sent in disguised as dormice or field mice, and found information regarding that many scouts had been sent into Flower Hill. Luckily, it did not appear that they had the secret document, which in hindsight had been a terrible idea to have in a physical form, even in codes. The fact that the other members of Tokgasi had managed to fit into their roles perfectly, with no issues, suggested that the Flower Hill scouts had not found the information that could destroy the scout ring Tokgasi was so proud of, the smug bastard.
At the very least, it was easy to memorize their movements as they searched, although it forced him to constantly be on the move, often pushing him towards villages where he would be easier to spot than in the dense forests.
The other problem was the food. The propaganda had been both correct, and incorrect. Yes, it appeared that Flower Hill could grow enough food to be able to eat every day in the winter. But apparently, that mostly meant canned and pickled foods, saved up during the rest of the year. Chestnuts, around Chestnut Valley, that did not go bad, and were to be distributed around the country as a food source. Which he would not mind, but it was a far cry from the luxurious foods he was told about, even if there were different ways to cook them. And bugs. Flower Hill loved eating Beondegi, silkworm pupae, of all things, as if it was not beneath them as fish food. In all, there had been no way for Flower Hill to send enough food to Usuhan Jiyeog after all...It was infuriating.
The farming was the exact same as it was in Usuhan Jiyeog, although they still had to work with their hands, work themselves to the bone every day, without any supposedly magic soil that could grow crops on their own. But the techniques were different, likely allowing for larger yields, and maybe the soil was just a little richer. it appeared that they allowed half the fields to rest and regain their fertility, a practice he had never heard of, but supposed made sense. Even the large predators worked the fields and the fisheries, startling him the first time he saw an otter with a hoe, mistaking him for a weasel at first. The division of labor was what allowed for a decent surplus of food for themselves, shocking him to his core at the concept of species of different sizes working together. It did not seem normal. But, maybe, that was how the rest of the world lived? It was not as if he could hold his own previous home in pride.
How strange…Well, if he wanted that life in Flower Hill, he would have to try and follow the local customs, no matter how frightened it made him.
Eventually, starving, almost delirious, Jollin decided to pillage a field of potatoes. It had been a while since he had managed to eat a potato by itself, instead of simply growing one. From experience, even he could recognize that the soil in certain areas was good for them, that the season was just right for something large and nourishing. He knew the stories of the giant potatoes in Flower Hill. He dove in at the dead of night.
Small potatoes. He dug around almost the whole field, only finding smaller potatoes than expected. A second field revealed the same. Flower Hill only grew small potatoes. It made sense. More food yield, as opposed to the large tubers he had seen back in his former home, meant to specific individuals, not that weasels or even the fish really liked potatoes in the first place.
It was not until the next day, early in the morning after a night of eating and rest, before the sun had risen, that he realized what he had done. Rushing back to cover his mistakes, he found he was too late.
“I don’t know, officer. I’ve been sick in bed for weeks. It seems like someone wanted to help out and till my fields in the dead of night. I am grateful for them.” the elderly squirrel smiled as the police officer nodded, looking at the fields.
“That is so nice of them, worrying about you and your fields!” the neighbors smiled at each other, none of them willing to admit to being the secret helper.
Lucky break…
He was more careful the next time, stealing some carrots elsewhere in the village. Jump the fence, uproot a few in different corners so as not to have one noticeable patch, and leave. On the way out, he tripped, slamming against the fence gate, and knocking it off its hinges. Quickly, he caught it before it could make any noise. Shit. It was lucky that he knew how to repair fences, using sticks on the ground to gather the screws and put the gate back into place. Good as new. No one will notice.
“It is the strangest thing, officer! The fence gate has been broken for a few days after it was knocked off by accident. I have had it just leaning where it was supposed to be. But it appears someone came by in the middle of the night and fixed it right up!”
The rabbit officer nodded and smiled. “That was so nice of them!”
It was a few days later when Jollin’s luck finally ran out. Unexpectedly, the search parties had changed tactics and directions, hemming him in. The sudden swarm of police searching the woods suggested that it was a planned exercise to find an intruder.
He had tried to run, of course, trying to evade the searchers. He had even tried to hide or escape up in the trees, but his lack of practice made him no match for the Flower Hill squirrels that jumped and wrestled him to the ground.
He wanted to snarl a warning, but did not dare to even move to strike back. It was better to surrender quietly, if he had been found out.
This is it! Well, I tried…I wish I could have lived longer… serious faces surrounded him, hands pinning him to the ground as he lay frozen, pulling at his tail and face, angry demands from multiple different sources. If he was not shot right then and there, then surely, he would be tortured to death during or after interrogations, assuming he was not simply locked away immediately. And then suddenly, it all stopped.
“That is… not a disguise…” he refused to open his eyes.
“Wait, the tail and face are real?”
“Yes!”
“Shit!” Sudden, soft hands raised him to a sitting position, crowd becoming more relaxed, apologetic, concerned. Oh, I see. Relief, not looking up. They are idiots after all. They see a bushy tail, and mistake me for one of their own. I can use this. He forced himself to relax in the arms.
“You are a refugee from near the border, aren’t you?” What seemed to be the leader of the village approached him.
“Yes…” best to let them come up with a backstory he could use. Reports had said that squirrels who lived near the border of Flower Hill tended to be shier than usual, and had slightly different mannerisms than squirrels further inside the borders.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
“Weasels. I was separated from my family, but I’m not sure where they would have gone or if…or if they are even alive. I…I was hoping to find someplace where I could send out a message…” it was true enough. Weasels had separated his family, and he was looking for where he could send messages back to Tokgasi if need be, using the small communicator Tokgasi had given him for that purpose.
The decision had been quick. Of course, the idiots would believe him and not even bother to check his story. A way to get an easy job that allowed him to survey the area, and plenty of time to send out messages if need be? Well, they did need a mail courier after the previous ones had retired. Plus, it kept him away from actually having to socialize much with most of the residents for longer periods of time, while also allowing himself to be seen enough that they would see him as a comrade. Perfect!
The route started out simple enough. it went through the woods and hills to multiple villages around Flower Hill, and even into the Commander Center in Cherry Valley itself. He could not be in the compound for very long, but it was not hard to memorize the attack strategies he could see. The layout as well, and where packages would be placed for the hedgehogs to pick them up, as what as what type of letters and packages each hedgehog would receive. It was easy to notice that security was lessened when the Commanders were not on the base, as well, which was likely how he managed to get so far into the villages to begin with.
As a new face, the villagers were chatty, trying to get to know him, giving away far too much information about the area and its defenses. This cliff could be triggered to create a landslide, a bell here would set off alarms, who at the edge of the village was on duty on what days to stay awake at night in case of danger. He just had to ask about any other refugees that moved through the area, as if he was a dutiful son. One could not simply run all over the country by himself looking for their family, especially not in times of war, after all. It was best to stay in one place if someone was lost.
Still, occasionally, he could see signs of other Tokgasi agents in the area, leaving behind secret messages with their symbol to each other behind rocks and trees. He chose to ignore them, tempting as it was.
He would be richly rewarded for any of this information, should he choose to go back to Tokgasi. But the job was easy enough. He had been given a small house to sleep in, free from drafts, alone and with a comfortable bed. He was given plenty of food to do his work no matter the season, and was promised firewood in the winter. New clothes, and sets of clothing for when it became cold outside. Why would he ever want to leave and go back to his old life? Go back to what, even? Destroying his body, toiling in the hot sun, freezing in the cold, beaten by the mice because of him not being one of them, while being beaten by the weasels for being a funny looking mouse to them?
Sure, the Flower Hill residents were stupid, just believing his ‘relieved to be alive’ act without evidence. But they had what he had always coveted, and were happy to give it to him. Just as long as he only took what he needed, he supposed.
And if the Weasel Unit won, and took over the entire nation, leaving nowhere to run? Or if Tokgasi managed to find him and try to execute him for desertion? He could just reveal himself, doing his job, and be rewarded with a cushier position than farm laborer or soldier. He could go with either scenario.
He did, however, have to fraternize more with his closest neighbors, an older rabbit and his granddaughter Nayeon.
The young granddaughter, Nayeon, would bring him extra food sometimes, in appreciation of what she called his hard work, which he supposed it was to someone not accustomed to unreasonable labor all day. The old rabbit was also a good source of information he could use just in case. Too old to work around the property, other animals from the village had often helped out before Jollin arrived. It was easy to do a few tasks and then bait the two into talking.
Some nights, they sat on the porch with the old rabbit, ears nicked with battle scars and muzzle turning gray. It was good to hear old war stories, giving away information about previous battles that would shed light on many subjects should be bring them back home. Listening to ‘an old rabbit’s ramblings,’ as he called it.
Of course, all good things had to come to an end, even long after Jollin had fully settled in to his new way of life. Even if he laughed a bit more when he allowed himself to do so. Sometimes, he worried about his teeth. Maybe they would be far too sharp for a squirrel, the tail and round ears only going so far for a proper disguise. Not all red squirrels grew ear tufts during the winter, at least, so he could hide that part of him as his winter coat came in normally, so it had not been a problem.
On his day off, he sat on the porch with the older rabbit, sun a few hours from setting, rocking back and forth in the chair, listening to the elder tell one of his old stories.
Finally, the rabbit stopped, sighing as if needing to whisper some old secret. “You are a good neighbor, you know that?” And old rabbit rambling. Jollin would have to play along, as he had many times before, simply smiling and nodding. “A good neighbor indeed. A good son to your parents, a good worker, a good squirrel. I really do enjoy having you around. You really are a good squirrel. So, it would really help me out- if you continued pretending to be one.”
The voice had dropped several octaves, removing all sense of frailty, back straightening. No sense of the old, almost senile rabbit remained, as a strong general took its place. Out of the bushes and rafters, Flower Hill soldiers emerged, approaching the house.
“Ah. So, when did you know?” Much more calm than last time, mind dropping directly into acceptance, yet wondering how he could get away. He had proven himself, after all, doing what the others considered strenuous work. He could talk his way into tricking them into thinking he was just a regular deserter, hand over some non-vital information.
A bark of laughter, and Jollin could see a jeep pull up, bearing what he knew to be the Flower Hill Commanders. This was a whole operation today, huh? “It was easy to see that you were trying to prove that you could pull your weight and trick us into letting you in. But Flower Hill citizens will help each other in the daylight hours, and not surprise each other by doing work in the night. That’s a good way to get shot, after all.”
So, they were leading me on from the beginning.
“And besides…no one in Flower Hill would agree to be a courier all by themselves. That job is usually relegated to a group, since an individual is likely to be attacked.”
Jollin was not worried as he sat in an interrogation room in the Cherry Valley headquarters. He would just have to offer to defect, or claim that he already had. After all, even he knew that in times of warfare, scouts who defected would often be allowed to live. He had even heard the stories of other mice defecting, turning to Flower Hill. From what he had heard, they had been allowed to live peacefully, if under some restrictions. He just had to figure out what to say to get the same deal. It was not as if Flower Hill would report to Tokgasi that he had defected if they believed him, so his plan to claim to have never left if Usuhan Jiyeog captured him still stood.
Up until the hedgehog commander laid down a familiar looking document, one that he knew contained his name, picture, and details of his life. The squirrel looked up at him as he laughed, bitterly. “I told them this document was a bad idea, what with a possible scout infiltrating the Weasel Unit.” Well, even if they captured the rest of Tokgasi, Usuhan Jiyeog might still be able to take over. It was not as if he had any attachments to either place.
“Then, I assume you understand that we are hunting down the rest of your comrades? This is not where you were supposed to be.” A simple statement, meant to judge his reaction, straight to the point, full of questions. As if they did not see him as a threat. Good. I can take chances here. He could not hide his sense of relief that the spy chain could not find him anymore, a genuine reaction that even the aides seemed to find amusing.
“I did not want to be in the army, but as a dormouse I was drafted by Tokgasi and the Scout Commander. It was not like I could just say no, given my species and station, you understand.” The hedgehog raised an eyebrow, but gestured with a shrug that stated that he understood the southern counterpart’s society.
“So, I left as soon as I arrived. It is not as if I am the only one in history, I have heard stories of others who abandoned their posts to go and live in Flower Hill. I didn’t know the others in Tokgasi very well, though. It was discouraged, since it would be a security risk, and even in the unit, regular weasels and mice did not mix well together. I would assume that this document tells you more than I could give.”
The commanders nodded. “That would be true, and I feel like we already have most of the information we have on your former comrades. I assume you would already know of a deal we would be offering to you?”
Jollin remembered the worlds of the old rabbit. “Continue working by delivering the mail and packages, and if I hear any word from any surviving handlers, or see any escapees, to let you know?” The guards appeared even more amused, while the commanders remained serious. “I expect I’ll be dragged back here at random to answer any more questions that might appear, later. I suppose I could try and obtain information from the Weasel Unit on what they might want me to do now that they lost the other scouts. I do know of ways to contact them if I can use the communication cables, here. I can get orders from them, and feed them chicken scratch information back, although you would have to give me a list of what to say. I’m not great at making things up…”
“…We HAVE had a few agents feeding you false information on your rounds. The fact that none of the traps were sprung is proof that you were not in contact with your handlers, which backs up your story of wanting to desert, but may also make it difficult in trying to connect with them again...”
“Well, Aekku is a weasel. I never spoke to him directly myself, but he might be desperate enough to just believe me outright if a survivor was to appear. Although, to build up trust, it would have to be very important information that would give the Weasel Unit some gains and footholds, if you know an area to sacrifice.”
“Scout Commander Aekku is dead.”
“Oh… Oh! Then that might make things easier!" Pretending to be excited seemed like the best option. "I can just play it off as someone who escaped, as long as I was not recorded as a traitor beforehand.”
With this trust, it was easy to spring a deal. Not so easy in giving them random bits of information that they did not already know, or would be unforgivable to the Weasel Unit.
How have these fucking idiots stayed in power?
They were trying to hide it, but the Flower Hill commanders appeared to be fully taken aback when he had clarified on radar systems. Best to act confused and innocent. If they had somehow lost some soldiers because they thought cloud cover or something like that would be good enough to hide them, then they might lose the war after all.
Being dragged before the commanders for interrogation was one thing, but their lack of basic understanding of an aviation units sensitive radar system was simply appalling. Even he knew about radar systems on airplane bases, and he had grown up on a farm! All he had told the commanders was rumors he had heard whispered in the barracks and the farm overseers, and they had seemed shocked beyond belief.
He highly doubted that Nayeon was interested in him. It was just a cover to hide their embarrassment and to save face.
Jollin did not mind that the Flower Hill police were sneaking around his house. They did, at times, to make sure there was not any strange tracks or traces of strangers around his house. He just had to ignore them. It could have been worse. Even back in the weasel territory, he had heard rumors of the special police force in Rabbit Village, of a band of cats who would shine lights through the windows of residents to see if they were innocently sleeping when they were supposed to be. So, sneaking around to check for extra footprints was no real problem, if that story is real.
“Good evening,” the cold voice came from the end of his bed. Startled, Jollin sat up, only to be tackled by a familiar mouse with a long coat. Don’t fight back! Not fighting back, possibly laughing and trying to hug the other mouse, would present the opportunity to convince him that he was not a traitor to the Weasel Unit. Otherwise, he would be dead, along with his comfy new life.
“But why would pups be a problem? If anything, they would be an asset in getting the targets to open up their mouths for information,” Tokgasi circled around his previously missing subordinate, calmly forced to sit in a chair, playing with a capped poison needle. Other mice stood around nearby, checking for traps or hidden devices meant for spying.
Casually, Jollin fingered his communicator. “The pups were old enough to know if their caretaker had been replaced by someone pretending to be him. Yes, targets would want to come help out with the little ones, but- they would also pay very close attention to me, a traumatized bachelor taking care of the pups. They would want to know if I was doing alright by the pups, and might notice something amiss. Besides, I certainly don’t know how to take care of children! We were not allowed to play around as pups where I come from, you could get shot for that. We had to work, or at least observe the adults working. I don’t think that is true in Flower Hill, based on the documents we had to memorize.”
Jollin turned to look at Geumbanji, gold earrings glinting in the moonlight, and spoke before being asked. “Now, as for joining up with you? A strange squirrel no one has ever seen before coming by to work with a lone mouse in a library would be far too suspicious. You were instrumental in kidnapping some of Flower Hill’s most precious scientists and intellectuals, were you not? That makes you the most likely to be targeted and arrested if anything should happen, especially since you are one of the few mice in the area.” He cocked his head, tail and right ear twitching in thought, staring at the stealth body armor the other was wearing. “And if you are here, not dressed in regular clothes, then your treachery has already been found out.”
The mercenary simply laughed, nodding, then grew serious. Crossing his arms, he turned to stare at Tokgasi. “Actually, yes. My position was a risky and temporary one, to say the least, but good to father information for my next moves and plans for the rest of my group. Why would you assign anyone to me?” Tokgasi went to speak, but was cut off. “Well, with the spy chain gone and the commander deceased, it is not like the Weasel Unit will be paying me anymore. Hmm. So close to the command center, and police that search everywhere. I wonder how much I could get for you?” The air grew tense, as the dormouse raised and eyebrow.
Jollin saw the opportunity, from his time delivering mail to the command centers, and the whispers he had heard. “You can just leave and save the money you have been paid up until now. The Flower Hill commanders are away visiting the White-Naped Cranes, and security tends to be much looser when they are away, especially given the number of guards they need to take with them for protection. I managed to find my way into this area in the first place when said guards were otherwise occupied. Once the commanders returned, I was caught very quickly. If you leave tonight or tomorrow night, you should be able to make it through the checkpoints without being spotted. Furthermore, the commanders only attend special events and leave the base when the Weasel Unit activity is at a lull, which means their guard should be down as well. If you want to sneak away, avoiding both groups, now is the perfect time. Unless, you want to try your luck and get some extra money turning us in, but that would depend on if they suspect you in kidnapping their comrades.”
Geumbanji’s expression turned to one of intrigue and excitement. "I was close friends with Nunsongi, Strategist Hedgehog, and the others before their disappearances. While I could turn you all in, the commanders would want to investigate my involvement in all of them, considering we all frequented that library, AND how I managed to come across you. Sorry, Tokgasi, I will be taking my leave as soon as possible. Consider yourself lucky, especially since that one managed to escape out of prison before everything went down," he gestured at a field mouse, who had taken the opportunity to remove his prison uniform and don an extra pair of clothes in the house. “Field mouse number 6 was famous for his assassination attempt at the festival in Flower Hill. He cannot be seen in public, even with a disguise, without being caught straight away.”
The other mice whispered nervously or glared angrily as the dormouse gave the proper directions to the departing mercenary, waiting for their leader to decide on a plan of action.
“We should just leave! We can make it if we leave now! Wait for everything to calm down, and then try again!”
“Quiet, Saenjgwi!” Tokgasi smacked the back of the mouse’s head, eyes full of determination. “Do you honestly think the Weasel Unit would not punish us for their own failures in letting the enemy get control of the document? We are lucky the others that escaped managed to find their own places to hide. We need to bring back something powerful that will allow us all back in. Our task is a simple one. We simply need to lay low for a while, and then get that notebook from that Racoon Dog. It is just a pup, so it should be easy enough once all the searching dies down. Then, we can sell it to the highest bidder, or whoever takes over from Commander Huinjogjebi.” Field Mouse Number 6 fingered his binoculars, remembering the blurry photos he had taken.
“I don’t think staying here is such a good idea…” Jollin’s neighbors might visit the house while he was away.
All eyes turned to him. “You still have not proven that you did not simply just desert. We can kill you here, you understand? and if we get caught, we can say you were in on it.” An easy threat to make.
“I have work in the morning,” Missing it would draw attention, and they knew it.
“And we will stay inside the house, scavenge for food at night! You can continue keeping your cover while allowing us to lay low. If you have somehow developed some feelings for the populace, well, no one has to get hurt.”
“Except the commanders,” Saengjwi giggled.
“And that is where you come in. You have been doing some deliveries into the commander’s compound, yes? We do have a contact in the command center itself, and he may need some ammo and supplies. We have plenty buried around here. All you need to do is drop off the goods in a specified location on the base and leave it for him to pick up, according to his orders and requests.”
Snorting, Jollin laughed, opening the communicator to check for messages he may have missed. “Sounds easy enough! Let’s get those bastards!” Well, If I do get caught, I can just say I was coerced but knew they would find out. I do remember one mouse getting assigned to the command center, but he’s probably been caught considering I have never seen him there.
It was not long before the communicators activated with the request.
Jollin simply walked into the compound as he normally would. He placed the packages around the buildings and delivery spots as he usually did. But then, in the blind spot of a camera, he darted off, leaving a few small extra items on the ground. It was not long before a hedgehog moved into the open, holding a Tokgasi pink handheld transceiver. The hedgehog’s walk changed as he approached, not at all the usual gait for a hedgehog from Flower Hill, but very similar to one of the field mice he had known when joining up with Tokgasi. So, there is a field mouse that managed to disguise as a hedgehog after all. How is he disguising his tail? How has he gotten away with this for so long? The individual still talked with caution, as if Cherry valley had yet to find out about his deceit, and could not relax. The items were collected.
Well, then. We will see where this goes. He would choose the winning team, when the time came.
Notes:
Honshu is the main island of Japan, and is also known as the dragonfly island, hence Tonbo, which refers to dragonflies. As such, their Imperial Regalia is the sword, Yūki no ken (the sword of valor), and is based off of Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi (Grass-Cutter). Tonbo is the main physical fighting force of Teikoku.
Kyushu is smaller than Honshu, but it had a lot of trade circuits around the ocean and the mountains. So I made a prefecture named Kairo (Circuit), and have the area be responsible for trade and roads around the empire, as well as in the fighting forces. I use the Magatama jewels (Benevolence) to symbolize their rule.
Shikoku means four provinces, and is the least populated area of the three areas. Shikoku also has a lot of temples, which draws in a lot of pilgrims. But they also maintain a lot of gateways to other prefectures. So Genkan for entryway. They are responsible for planning and strategizing for the other two. They have the Michi no kagami, mirror of the path to represent wisdom/truth, based on the Yata no Kagami.
kazoku- the feudal lords and nobles were merged into one royal court system, although this does not go above the royal blood of the Emperor. This allows for different species to have the royal blood for which they can become the emperor.
Captured hedgehog: "Did you even bother to learn the local language? The rabbits even speak another. You incompetent bastards, do you think that Rabbit Village is a small place just by looking at the name?"
Sasa (granted death)- the traditional method of execution in Korea was strangulation/hanging or beheading. Those with noble blood were given sasa as a form of benevolent death. It was a mixture of arsenic and sulfur, and would often lead to exsanguination. Usually the condemned was allowed to do it alone in a small hut.
hyosu- the severed head was hung from a pole as a warning to others.
Jollin- Sleepy. The other name for a dormouse is a 'sleepy mouse' because they can hibernate for long periods of time
Nayeon- cute bunny, or forest, or innocent/bright/radiant
The Imperial Regalia are not magical or anything, they are just symbolic.
I am not mixing Black Cat Detective into this fanfic, since it is a Chinese cartoon. I will make jokes to it though, as I have with other shows.
Saenjgwi- mouse
Chapter 10: Storm Surge
Summary:
As the typhoon picks up, battering the outpost, the hunt for the scouts infiltrating the facility begins. Geumsaegi must make contact and determine if the unknown scouts are allies that he must save, or enemies out to target him.
Notes:
Thanks to both sah-headcanons and weaselfactoryex for helping me with some dialogue!
Honestly, I was a bit inspired by IGP’s Still Wakes the Deep (minus the supernatural elements) for this one, but then I saw the opportunity to make some other jokes.I am not too worried about the names for the workers in the facility, since other than the mole, I doubt they will appear again after these few chapters. So, workers are pretty much just named after their occupations and/or species, and some of them will just be generic for a group, although specific to the type of jobs found on a drilling or mining platform.
Boanjogjebi- security weasel
Geomsagwan-safety inspector
Sibjang- foreman
Seonjang- captain
Deulilleo- driller
Gaengbu- miner
Jeongong- electrician
Jojongsa- pilot (for the helicopters)
Uisa- doctor/medic
Jijilhagja- researcher/geologist
Enjinieo- engineer
Gamdogja- supervisor
Nodongja- worker/s
Yuji- Maintenance
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite the weariness from the journey, Geumsaegi was unable to relax in the private room he had been given to ride out the typhoon, especially with the evidence on foreign scouts infiltrating the base. As a scout himself, he could see the pattern for the others’ missions. The previous sabotage and stalking had been test runs, with a typhoon providing the perfect cover for them to put their true plan into place. The timeline of the sabotage made sense to him, as well. Placed into the facility within the last few months, as if waiting for a typhoon to arrive in the area, as they usually did during this season. Whoever they were, they would do something large within the next few days, or even hours, as the rains and winds would cover up their actions as the usual residents scrambled to keep everything in place. The question was, would it involve him? Were my friends able to make it here, after all? Will I be able to meet them? What if they are scouts from Chambelli Koh? Would it be safe to make contact and reveal myself to my friends?
Probably not. There was no telling if a foreign scout would recognize or care about him, other than maybe use him as a tool to escape should they be captured. A foreign scout would not have made plans for the Special Aide of the Weasel Unit to come visiting, and would likely attack him on impulse if not deliberately avoid him. He had a reputation for catching scouts and traitors, after all. On the other hand, Geumsaegi had known enough soldiers from the country that a few might be able to recognize him, and want to know what he was up to.
Pushing away feelings of sad disappointment over finally not being able to see a friendly, smiling face, Geumsaegi paced around the room, tail drifting up and down lazily, then paused. How would anyone be able to make contact, if they wanted to? How would they go even about it? how could I make contact, if I had to?
The disguised squirrel looked up, catching sight of the vent on the floor of his room. Could someone fit in those? It would be a good way to avoid the cameras, perhaps. Just barely. Perhaps a mouse in the maintenance crew that was used to crawling around in tighter spaces, although highly unlikely. But in a facility the size of this one, an infiltrator would not need to travel through the vents. They would just need the appropriate colored lanyard and keycard that distinguished departments.
Well, if it was a scout from his home country, they would try and make contact with him whether it was part of the plan or not. If it was a scout from another country, it could be best to simply let them do their job, for now, and not interfere, unless they were in danger of being caught. The scouts probably would not have a reason to recognize him, and as much as he would love to speak to a beloved comrade, he did not know if he could trust them. And besides, it was obvious to him as he thought about it that the sabotage operation was intended to destroy the operation of the facility, which suggested that the scouts might not even be from Chambelli Koh, who wished for the outpost to remain functional. As far as he knew, Flower Hill did not have a proper defense against the Iron Crows and their lasers. But if those devices ran on An'obutaniumu, then the destruction of this base would give Flower Hill the much-needed extra time to build up defenses. They could not rely on Geumsaegi’s luck like they did the last time the terrible weapons were deployed. Shame about Chambelli Koh’s other research for cleaner and renewable energy that could be spring-boarded off of the minerals, but it was not as if the allied nation would be able to pin the blame on him if he did not stop them.
The Flower Hill scout could fully understand if someone else wanted revenge on the enemies as much as he did. He would not stop them.
Might as well get some work done, then.
Before leaving the main base, the commanders of his combined unit, as well as some other squad leaders, wished for the Special Aide to specify what he meant by accusing their staff of embezzlement, and what he suggested to be done about it. Which was a rather difficult feat, since it was not what he had been trained for. I suppose being on the defensive side here will make it easier for me to figure out what is least likely to be noticed if I need to do it myself…This is a good plan!
Well, the refrigerators that were ordered had been swapped out for less expensive ones, with suggestions that someone had pocketed the difference. That was easy enough, fairly obvious. The head cook, especially, appeared rather peeved to discover that his refrigerators were not the ones he had ordered, once it had been pointed out, and appeared almost set to begin his own hunt. Geumsaegi removed a fresh pack of pens that he had acquired from supply before he left, opening them with the intention to write the preliminary report. Picking up a pen, he began to write. Empty. Geumsaegi stared at the pen in confusion, then grabbed another. Almost empty. Same for the rest of the pack. Strange…what if these have been tampered with? Or already used?
At least, once taken apart, there were no listening devices or poison needles in the pens. Although, the insides appeared as if they had been extensively used, as if discarded pens had accidentally ended up in the supply. Suspicious. And very sloppy.
The squirrel moved to tie the pens together with a rubber band, which immediately snapped as if it was old from overuse. Same with a second band, and a third. Geumsaegi paused, staring in thought at the wall as he rubbed his stinging fingers. Perhaps, it is not embezzlement after all. In the confusion of the mushroom bombs devastating the Unit, what if trash and new were mixed up, or finance wise, this was all they had left, and they needed to keep up appearances of having a surplus? Many members of the Weasel Unit had been successfully killed by the Toadstool bombs, and if he had managed to slaughter most of the individuals in charge of supplies, then it was possible that their replacements were confused and struggling to keep up with demands.
Which was good for Flower Hill, at least, although for him it meant being very careful about checking his own supplies from now on.
Best to get some rest, since he could not do anything else. No one could go anywhere during the storm, anyway, and the mice that could expose of him were trapped in the holding cells with a guard that trusted him. He moved his end table against the doorknob, an extra layer of protection against the outside. Finally, he lay down on the bed, leaving a lamp on, allowing himself to drift off to the sound of wolves and essential workers moving in the hallway outside his door.
The plunging darkness engulfing his room startled him awake just as easily as if his eyes had been hit with floodlights. An unnatural pause, with no sound, as most workers passing in the hallway froze in surprise. Then, a noise of confusion could be heard through the locked door, followed by a thump and a groan. A chuckle from another individual, followed by another thud, as the companion also walked into one of the pillars.
Just as quickly, an alarm sounded. “Unscheduled power outage. Will the head of each department and visitors please gather in the cafeteria. All others report for a headcount.” Dim emergency lighting turned on in the hall, casting shadows that flickered as regular staff moved to fix the issue and move towards their assigned areas, grumbling and moaning.
No one could blame him for being a bit late if a scout managed to catch him on route to say hello, assuming they were friendly. While mice had fairly good night vision and should be able to find their way, unlike a squirrel, it was not as if he had memorized the entire layout of the building and hallways.
Geumsaegi moved slowly, waiting for someone to catch up to him. Which meant he was risking it to make himself a target, even if it was a good chance to meet up with a possible friend, as his heart still so dearly hoped. Shapes moved in the darkness, as annoyed weasels, mice, and other inhabitants of the base moved around and past him in the hallways, electricians and maintenance workers striding with purpose. And one shadow behind him, following him for the last few turns through the hallways, but seeming to want to not make contact. Fine if they did not, any scout would want to scope him out first for identification purposes, and it was likely that a typhoon of this size would cause multiple power outages, so there were other chances. The lack of water leaks had already been a pleasant surprise. He could see the dim outside of the cafeteria doors in front of him. Well, it was not as if there was enough time.
Behind him, someone screamed in the distance. Geumsaegi paused. It did not sound like a regular scream of surprise in the near dark, and too high pitched to be a weasel. It was almost as if someone had seen something genuinely frightening. Or maybe just shadows moving on the wall, making it appear as if something large was looming just above the head, as if to pounce…no, the individual following him had actually moved closer, radiating ill intentions... Geumsaegi stopped, moving back towards the figure leaning past the corner, flipping open the holster on his gun, only for the stranger to disappear, sheathing something. That is not my ally!
Turning again, Geumsaegi burst through the doors of the cafeteria, joining the leads at the table as the envoy from the main weasel base. Naturally, many of the leads and department heads had been chosen based on their loyalty to the Weasel Unit. The Porasu Outpost was unusual in that Huinjogjebi had also managed to staff it with leaders who actually had experience in the fields, as well as willingly allowing workers from Chambelli Koh to continue working on their projects.
“Special Aide! How pleased I am that you were able to find the cafeteria. And so quickly in the dark at that!” the foreman stated, mildly annoyed at the delay.
“Yes, well. Your emergency lights are so conveniently placed and flashed so helpfully. The guide following me with a knife was quite productive in hurrying me along, as well.”
“Eh? I am sure you are just imagining things,” The security weasel stated in mild confusion, eyes fidgeting slightly, moving to stare at his blue uniform.
“But Boanjogjebi, we keep reporting to your subordinates that…” a dormouse, head of the lower-class general worker mice, quieted himself by staring at his faded gray keycard as quickly as the outburst started. The brown spotted hyena flicked an ear, eyes darting nervously at the look the security weasel had given to the dormouse. The head of the research team, a mole that bore some similarity to Dr. Dudeoji, shifted, displaying the hinting outline of a protective vest under their clothes. Fiddling with a portable electronic display, he gestured downward, as if to warn the mouse that the conversation could happen later. After all, the Special Aide had easily listened to them before, and would likely do so again. Shifting slightly to glance at the device, Geumsaegi recognized a Doppler radar for a weather station located further down towards the water on the beach, monitoring the water levels. Is he looking for something? An escape boat, perhaps? There was another tab open, but he was unable to see if it was named.
Boanjogjebi had clearly been chosen for the position of head of security based on his loyalty. Good enough at his job to take it seriously, but not wishing to do more than he had to, needing to be goaded into action. The concept of saboteurs had clearly been something he wanted to avoid thinking about, and easily avoidable to rationalizing that the staff were smart enough so far to avoid harm. “Undoubtedly, the power outage was caused by the typhoon knocking over something outside. We can just reroute some of the power in electrical until the rain and winds have stopped.”
That is not how it works. Geumsaegi prepared to assist in a drawn-out argument.
“While Doctor Huinjogjebi did set up just such a system for us, clearly something more must be wrong. The power would have been automatically rerouted by now if something outside was disturbed, so the problem could be internal,” The mouse electrician mumbled, fingering his lanyard to prevent himself from seeing the weasel’s glare.
The doors to the cafeteria flew open, revealing another mouse, holding a lighter blue lanyard and keycard he had used to open the secured doors, symbolizing his subordinance to the security weasels.
“Geomsagwan, why are you not at your assigned post for the headcount?” Boanjogjebi was both surprised and annoyed at the safety inspector.
The mouse saluted, quickly. “Sirs! A body has been found in electrical!”
Despite his nonplussed and avoidant attitude, Boanjogjebi had been quick to order all non-essential workers to return to their rooms and lock their doors, citing an important security issue, which given the past few months was easily enough to believe. Essential workers were to continue as a skeleton crew in groups. While there had been sabotage in the past, a lower-class worker being full on murdered had never happened before. The smaller gathering stood by the crime scene, watching the investigation and clean up. The body, stabbed and stuffed into the control panels so as to disrupt the power. But what had been the purpose to leave it there once the disruption had been complete? A message? The Mouse's yellow keycard was stained with red blood in the ground to be sure, but not in any meaningful way.
Clearly, not one of my friends. They would not have left the body out like this with no warning. They would have left threats, first, if they were going to do something like this. Same with the scouts he had known from Chambelli Koh.
“If you are saying that these infiltrators have been around, mainly sabotaging machinery to try and harm the workers indirectly, then perhaps this is their way of saying that they are going to escalate…” Geumsaegi wondered, back at the table while the crow medics retrieved the body, making sure not to drop any black feathers onto the crime scene. The removal of the body allowed the power and lights to return.
“Or perhaps,” Boanjogjebi began confidently, “it was just a dispute by mice that got out of hand. We all know how mice squabble amongst themselves over such petty things. Tensions are already high with the arrival of central command-” he waved a paw at Geumsaegi, “-and the knowledge of the cleanup they will have to do after the storm.”
‘They,’ Geumsaegi noted. The commanders had no intention of helping, as usual.
Geomsagwan, allowed to join the table as the blue uniformed weasel’s favorite subordinate, shook his head. “I know all the rivalries and resentments between every worker on this base. No one had any problems with this particular Jeongong, and he was not known to hold any grudges himself. He liked taking on others’ work as long as it meant no one bothered him, and it was not due to any suspicious reasons. Jeongong just liked watching electricity run along the wires.”
Jojongsa, the crow pilot, looked up and around. “Alone. So, if there was one attack, then anyone who was alone before and during the power outage may have been targeted, and we would not have known,” The bird turned his head to glance at the engineering hyena and researcher mole, both running the groups of individuals most likely to be found alone, and currently very intently focused on their PDAs.
Geumsaegi remembered the figure following him when he was alone in the hallway. “Enjinieo, Jijilhagja, have you been able to locate all of your personal?”
The hyena nodded. “Dudeoji and I have made contact with every member of our staff, and none of them appear to be missing. When the body was found in such a manner, we both ordered them to pair up and hide in their rooms.” A very intelligent precaution.
“It is good that you and Jijilhagja were on top of the issue. I would expect that engineers and researchers would be the first to be targeted if an outside force decided to get serious.” Geumsaegi knew that he needed to put some emphasis on the name Jijilhagja. It was not unusual for a superior in the Weasel Army to enforce a specific name for a group or individual. Hopefully, the Chambelli Koh mole would understand. What if the wolves, currently lazing in their rooms, not at all interested in solving a murder, heard the name Dudeoji, and came up with stupid ideas? They might snatch him away to try and force him to figure out the underground infrastructure of Flower Hill. At best, he would be killed once he was determined to be useless. At worst, he might actually know how to figure it out, and decide that another country’s underground infrastructure was less important to him than his own life and well being.
The decision to search around was less wise.
“There is a chance that there are more bodies around the facility. Maybe we can find clues on who the scouts are by how the bodies were killed.”
“Sibangjogjebi, that is not wise!”
“Relax, Seonjangjogjebi, we will do it in pairs!” The foreman and the captain nodded to each other, making the choice to leave together once the meeting was dismissed.
“Hold, now.” Boanjogjebi moved a shelf that had been brought in, removing devices for each individual. “Should you find something suspicious, or see another dead body, please blast this air horn so that those nearby should be able to assist you.” He lifted his own PDA, which displayed several heart monitors and locator beacons. “Since the cafeteria is central to the base, I will stay here and monitor everyone’s life signs in case something happens again.”
The hyena and a few of the mice yelped as several in the group tested the horns immediately. “Should be not have radios, instead?” One of the mice asked.
“And what if the scouts have radios as well?” Boanjogjebi questioned.
“True,” Geumsaegi had to agree, “the air horns could only be picked up here, whereas anyone could use a radio to lure someone off.”
“Naturally, the first place one would want to look for an intruder stalking the halls is in the security recordings, would you not think so, Nodongja?” Geumsaegi had chosen to go with the worker dormouse, who nodded in agreement, somewhat starstruck that another of his kind had managed such a high position of Special Aide. The disguised squirrel was getting used to those looks, watching specifically to see who would be useful to manipulate. He had already earned the trust of the regular workers by listening to them earlier, so if the dormouse knew any information, he might be more likely to give it to him, seemingly another dormouse with a similar tail. Geomsagwan was a talker, but his clear secondary job as an informant meant that any suspicious move on his part would be reported. A worker would look away when asked to do so, if the need arose.
“Do you think it would have recorded the murder as it happened?”
The dormouse shook his head. “Most of the cameras in the facility have not been working for a while. The ones that still work are mainly the ones in the hallways, unfortunately. We could watch to see who went into the main electrical room after Jeongong entered, and question them?”
“Now that is a good idea…Although it would be best to obtain a duplicate recording of footage from all the working cameras from the past few hours.” Geumsaegi searched the security room, finding empty data disks, and using one to start a duplication of all the recordings. Looking though some other files, he made sure to start a download on others that could be useful to him. With this, with enough time, he could sabotage the room later, edit the footage he had to make his enemies look suspicious while his allies appeared innocent, or make a second duplicate to send to Flower Hill. He just needed his current dormouse companion to not notice. “We will have to take notes.” He began to fast forward the recording on the screen, observing how many mice and weasels moved past the room. Now all they had to do was wait.
The dormouse started a conversation in the silence. “I hear that the Weasel Unit sends dormice into Flower Hill disguised as squirrels, sometimes. They say that you were once sent in as a scout, near the beginning of the ocupation.” Is this a test? He didn’t know the dormouse I replaced when I first infiltrated, does he? It was always a concern he had, at the back of his mind, that he might run afoul of someone who knew the originals. But surely, no one would be that stupid to directly call him out, when they were all alone?
“Being a scout seems like it would be kind of fun! Although I don’t know how easily one would be caught. Maybe if they used the wrong name.”
“Infiltration sure is interesting, but I would think that you have a good thing going here, Jollin.” A term of familiarity, between dormice.
“Jollin! Hah!” The dormouse doubled over in laughter, gray lanyard jiggling. “That is exactly what I am talking about! Jollin is such a generic name for a dormouse, even Flower Hill would figure it out instantly.”
Is Jollin a generic name for a Weasel Unit dormouse or field mouse? I’ll have to report that to the commanders. “And what name would you suggest, Nodongja?”
“Flower Hill likes flowers, so it would make sense for a squirrel to be named after their national flowers or something else they might consider pretty. For instance, I would choose a name like Moglyeon, or Pangulott.”
Geumsaegi froze, trying not to burst into laughter. From the tone, it did not appear as if the dormouse knew about the codenames. Still…
“I think Pangulott would be a much better name for fitting into the population! Those flowers grow like weeds over there I hear, so it would not be out of place!” He turned, smiling playfully, pretending to be excited. Better if this poor fool spread that name around. It would allow Weasel and Wolf Unit infiltrators to be caught all the easier if they used that designation.
On the camera recording, a smaller figure in unidentifiable clothes entered the electrical room, lanyard hidden from view, and the power to the camera shut off moments afterwards, along with the power to the rest of the base.
A distant scream, followed by a frantic blast from an air horn, and another scream, which cut off. “Shit. That was from the southeast storage room…” the dormouse stated in alarm.
“They found a body? Nodongja, I’ll be just a moment, do you want to run on ahead? Just stay away from anyone until you see the group, I’ll finish up here.”
“Sir, yes sir!”
With the mouse gone, he slipped the video recordings of the day onto a data disk, and then quickly moved to flip on the last few minutes of the camera, pausing to look at the current recording. Sometimes, scouts would linger at the scene of the crime to see if someone found their handiwork.
Geomsagwan sprinted down the hallway, appearing terrified at something behind him. The mouse scanned a light blue identification card, unlocking the storage room, attempting to slip inside. As the door began to close, a large figure sprinted up, grabbing the mouse, snapping his spine. Someone local from the facility would likely be able to recognize the attacker, but not the visiting Special Aide.
Geumsaegi breathed in with alarm upon hearing the sharp snap. “Oh… Geomsagwan was just killed by a weasel…”
“By a weasel you say?” an unfamiliar voice, one full of malice, as if it was creeping up behind him.
“Ah…?” Geumsaegi dove to the side, intending to draw his gun from the slight cover of the modems, only for a taser to electrify the spot where he had just been standing. Landing, he jumped again behind cover, barely missing being hit by the intruder’s bullet, which instead flew through the main screen where his leg had been, shattering the computer. The figure appeared surprised as the movements, allowing for Geumsaegi to charge, yelling loudly, knocking the would-be assassin to the ground. Finding the gun pinned underneath a larger arm, he opted to move behind a column to finish drawing his own weapon.
Fingers scrabbled at the holder, wasting precious seconds as the air horn blocked the clasps. The weasel was rising to his feet, snarling. More gunshots, aimed inside the security room, meant to destroy something. Thinking quickly, Geumsaegi scaled the column within seconds, hiding among the overhead pipes. He could hear angry roaring as the unknown weasel began to search, moving up and down the hallway, searching.
Well, he could at least travel along the pipes until he found safety. Once his attacker had moved to the other side of the hallway, Geumsaegi turned the corner, moving down the next hallway, gripping the pipe harder when he heard a voice. “Is anyone there? We heard some gunshots.” The hyena and the mole.
“Shut up!” He hissed. Keep your fucking voices down!” Lowering himself from another column, he ushered the two to run, just in time for one of the PDAs to loudly beep, displaying rapid movement from an unknown entity on a radar. From behind him, in the other hallway, they heard a triumphant grunt, and footsteps beginning to sprint towards them with a purpose. The mole turned, posturing as if to tackle whoever was coming towards them. Such bravery from a scientist! If that was how it was going to be, Geumsaegi prepared to go for the legs.
Instead of a confrontation, the foundations of the facility were rocked by an explosion, vibrating the walls and forcing the lights to flicker. An alarm began to blare as the workers immediately exited their rooms, the attacker blending in among them.
Sabotage. The drill and oil pit were burning, unnaturally, explosive charges dampened by the rain sliding off and hitting the ground, wolf soldiers quickly deactivating them. The drill, built with An'obutaniumu alloys, was mostly intact, apparently needing only a few short weeks of repairs, from what could be seen in the roaring wind and rain. According to the drillers and miners, it needed some scheduled maintenance that would have taken it out for that long, anyway. The explosions around the oil pits, however, had taken out much of the ocean facing wall. The brunt of the storm had yet to hit, and they were no longer protected from the worst of the wind, let alone any intruders.
Gathered around the table once again, the captains had lost two of their number. The safety inspector, and the crow pilot. Which in hindsight, made sense. Those would be the two I would want to dispose of the most, if I was a scout targeting this place. It makes sense.
“How many scouts are trying to sabotage the facility?” Boanjogjebi appeared wilted, now, having lost his subordinate, and most importantly, his informant. Maybe even a friend.
“At least two? One small and the other clearly a weasel, which could be any weasel in the facility.” The foreman muttered. “Let us go over who was killed and why. And who might be the next targets. Anyone have any ideas?”
“I suspect that Jeongong was just unlucky enough to be in electrical when the scout came to sabotage the wiring. If he was truly just a regular electrician, he would have nothing to hide.” Geumsaegi began. The head of the working and drill crews leaned back, waiting.
“You two seem fairly nonchalant about this whole affair…” the weasel captain hissed.
“We…we would be the least likely to be in danger, here.”
“Oh? Care to explain?” the aggression was making the mice wilt away, prompting Geumsaegi to continue.
“That would be true. It appears that whatever plan the scouts had been sent in to do, they have started it, and failed. They are likely trying to kill off the leaders of each group to send them into disarray so they can steal from and sabotage the facility further. General workers would be less important to kill or capture than someone with information and command, and the drillers would not be able to work for some time, anyway.”
Another weasel, the supervisor of the facility stood up, drawing his gun, prompting the captain and security weasels to follow suit. “Do you think the scouts are at this very table?”
“What do you idiots think you are doing? Sit down, immediately!” Geumsaegi moved to the most aggressive weasel, forcing his gun back towards the holster. Surprised by the bold actions of a mere mouse, the group slowly complied.
Geumsaegi continued to pace, slowly moving back to his seat, thinking hard. If he had not been targeted, he would have played dumb about the plans and hunting down the scouts. But if there were going to treat him like an enemy, then he would respond in kind.
“Everyone at this table has identification going back for years, and other than me would have known that the drill was made up of An'obutaniumu, and thus could not have been destroyed by that number of explosive charges. Which means the plan may have failed, so now they are targeting important individuals. Which suggests that the scouts are either new hires, or snuck in recently. I would say to investigate everyone who has worked here for under two years, but the scouts could have disguised themselves as various crewmembers over time…”
“That is… not possible,” Boanjogjebi began. “The workstations can only be accessed by special keycards, which are biocoded to each individual as soon as they arrive in the medical wing, so it is not as if they could just kill and replace.... While there are individuals who have multiple, those are only given out after the worker has proven their loyalty after several years.”
Or just to the weasel higher ups and their favorite servants, who fled the facility before we arrived Geumsaegi understood implicitly.
“So, the electrician was just a coincidence to distract everyone while the charges were set. The safety officer was a known gossip or informant to the security officer, so naturally he would be a target. He would immediately know the newest members and who would appear shady, and I am sure would offer to keep secrets in exchange for some favors that would benefit both parties. The pilot was to prevent escape, and possibly because-” Geumsaegi’s head shot up in realization, “-because the pilot and I would be the only ones who know how to use the proper channels on the long-range communicators in the helicopters. That, plus my habit of hunting down traitors, and my association with high command, would explain why I have been stalked twice, and why the attacks on me were nonlethal so far.”
“Quite the pity that you did not catch sight of either of the two who tried to attack you. I wish we could narrow down what group they could be in.”
“If I may take a guess, I would say they would have to be in the security group.” Geumsaegi’s position as Special Aide was the only thing stopping Boanjogjebi from striking the mouse.
“A scout pretending to be one of the engineers or maintenance crew members would actually need to know how to do such a job. Given how they have been botching some of the sabotage to the point that it has been noticeable, they do not appear to have much knowledge of the machines here. It is not as if one could fake that sort of job. Furthermore, oil is flammable, but does not explode as they had clearly hoped. Which rules out miners and drillers, who would know better.”
Geumsaegi continued, “The worker mice could fake a job or task if they had to as cover. I am sure that the weasels treat them as nonexistent as usual unless needed. Still, they are not allowed in some of the science departments where data was stolen, and they would have been noticed if they were somewhere they were not supposed to be. And it is unlikely to be anyone in the science and research departments.”
He looked up at the mole, who stared back evenly with distaste at the member of the occupying army. “The information and data here is far too valuable for a scientist to discard, not when such important breakthroughs are at hand. Although, target wise- I have seen the footage of the Flower Hill Dr. Dudeoji’s kidnapping, and heard the reports of his interrogations. A mole is too large of a target for a weasel, and they can take a beating. Jijilhagja here is too large to attack, but at the same time would be a valuable secondary target to capture if the explosions on the drill did not work. And you are far too paranoid of being attacked than if you were to be an attacker yourself, isn’t that right?” The mole’s expression changes suggested that he understood why it was dangerous to call himself Dudeoji around the wolves. “And the other researchers would follow suit. If they did not trust you to stay in their rooms, researchers would still be working in these conditions. Besides, as a mole, your presence would have been noted from the beginning, and since you are not with the Weasel Unit, you should have been watched closely. Anyone would have noticed a change in your appearance. Same with the hyena.
Supervisor, foreman, captain? It would be extremely unusual for them to be found in the areas where the sabotage had been taking place. It would be noticeable.” Normally, such personnel would be on site, but these were weasels, in the Weasel Unit. Just around for authority purposes and to encourage fear so the mice would not disobey, not to do much of a job.
“That leaves security officers, for the most part, I would expect. Given the importance of this site, there should be random patrols in addition to the regular patrols. No one would question a security officer and their movements, since that would likely end with one getting interrogated themselves. Which means they can be free to steal information or sabotage devices and equipment. Was there someone watching the cameras at all times? Then, if there were two or more scouts, the security disguise makes more sense, as one could wipe or loop the recordings. Which may actually explain why whoever attacked me seemed so annoyed to find me in the security room after the air horn alarm was blasted, and why they destroyed the cameras afterwards.”
The group nodded at the deduction. Out of the corner of his eye, Geumsaegi could see the foreman lean over to the security weasel, “I see why high command keeps him around. It seems like the rumors of him being an excellent detective and traitor hunter were true.”
Boanjogjebi’s eyes lit up. “Geomsagwan set up trackers on all the doors to the individual living quarters. We should be able to see who never entered their rooms when ordered, and who left during that time. If we can salvage the security monitors, we can maybe find the file…”
“I have it downloaded, we just need to find the proper computer for it,” Geumsaegi offered, glad to have noticed the file.
The mole’s PDA gave a warning ping, forcing him to open the communicator, frowning. “Why are the colonies all fleeing so deep- Shit fuck. Hmmm. Fuck.”
The hyena leaned over nonchalantly. His ears went back, hair on his neck standing up straight. “Ahh…that’s not good.” he turned to look at the bordered-up windows, questioningly. “Well…maybe…?”
“What?” Geumsaegi turned in dual annoyance and concern.
“Hmm. I am sure we will be fine. Just brace. Perhaps, nothing will happen?”
“What?” Geumsaegi appeared to be the only one that knew about the seriousness of what the scientist could know. Is there a pressure gauge that could have been sabotaged somewhere? Or maybe even…
“Has someone stolen and then purged your data?” Geumsaegi could only imagine that it would be the proper decision.
“No. the storm surge is arriving.” The hyena clarified.
“And we don’t have an outer wall, there.” The mole continued; voice slightly higher. He glanced down at himself, unsure if he would float in the body armor he was wearing. He turned to grip the table.
Once again, the foundations shook with a loud roar, different and more constant this time.
“What is happening?” Geumsaegi demanded. His own eyes turned to the boarded up windows in the back of the cafeteria, sharing the concern with the hyena about the rushing waters breaking through the windows, even if were not hit with the full force.
The miner and driller laughed. “Oh, we are fine. Most of the walls are holding up, so it is not as bad as it sounds. The water will flow into the emergency surge tunnels and into the lower levels. We will not be affected, although it will probably leave the place a mess due to all the oil and minerals that it will pick up…”
The mice at the table suddenly straightened, the mole appearing disturbed. “Special Aide, sir? The mice locked up down below? We would have less than an hour before the holding cell is flooded. We should bring them here so they can be with you.”
Of course. They would not want someone to drown down there, and it would make the Weasel and Wolf Unit look bad. Disappointing. I could have let them drown and be rid of them for good.
Mulmangcho watched Oegwipali’s chest rise and fall, softly, as he slept on one of the padded benches in the holding cells. He was not entirely sure how his younger brother had been sent along as a prisoner to be possibly executed with him, considering he had been free beforehand. It was that fucking Special Aide’s idea, he was sure of it. If General Commander Jogjebi had been an idiot after the concussion, then Commander Huinjogjebi was just as impaired of a leader after being poisoned. And if what he had heard of Dr. Huinjogjebi and Commander Jogjebi’s relationship was true, then the mourning process had further clouded whatever was left of his brain function.
Desperate, lonely, easily manipulated. But infuriatingly clever at targeting enemies in the wrong direction, away from the scouts. Which made sense, since the Special Aide had been trained in manipulation and deception, while Mulamngcho had gotten his positions through sheer diligence and his own intelligence that had been recognized, as well as back up from his superiors, such as Aekku and Geomeunjogjebi.
They had had some luck after the toadstool bombs, nearly managed to have the wolves and the Huinjogjebi listen to them. But the Special Aide just had to get in the way, and would likely have them killed, which would leave him open to kill the rest of the Weasel Unit. At the very least, maybe it would be quick. He knew that he would be first. Neither of them were sure how he would react if his remaining known brother died in front of him.
Mulmangcho knew that he should have just killed Huinjogjebi when he had the chance. The Chief of Staff had been an idiot, discussing his plans for rebellion out in public, when the commander was in a paranoid fervor executing anyone he considered a traitor. But at least he would have tried to go about running the Weasel Unit in a rational manner. It was not as if a mouse like himself had enough physical power to run the Weasel Unit, which is why he had allied with the pact.
The facility rumbled again. No alarms this time to startle his brother awake.
It would be easy enough for Mulmangcho to burrow through the walls to escape. The rocks in the cell were of no real consequence for him. The concrete and steel would take much longer, however. The guard, however, who occasionally peaked in on them with a look of distaste, would shoot them both without hesitation for having him arrested as a traitor if they tried anything. No amount of explaining that he had only accused the Special Aide, specifically, of being a traitor, while he and the two weasel guards had only gotten in the way and would probably have been released later, would change his mind. They had tried. But the Special Aide had already gotten to him, leading to him refusing to listen.
The Porasu Outpost was also on the coast. He would be an absolute fool to just start digging at random. If he did not dig into a pocket of saltwater and drown painfully, then the tunnel would likely collapse around them due to moist and wet earth, suffocating them both. Digging straight up would be the safest option, but would land them surrounded by possible enemies. Unlike before, there was no one from The Pact who could back him up and protect him, no one to say that he was correct since the Special Aide had already made their impression on them. And where would they go, if they even escaped? This was a foreign land he barely knew anything about, not even the one he had heard other mice trying to escape to after the Toadstool bombs. And the elevator had proven that he could barely even speak the local language, once they changed it back.
No, they would have to bide their time, knowing that at any moment the Special Aide could send word to finish the job. The glasses wearing mouse had already thought up of one way he could stop himself and his brother from being executed. He could try and suggest that he knew where some prisoners from Flower Hill were being kept, for one. Border villages in Flower Hill had been attacked before the residents moved inward, and not everyone made it out alive. He could suggest that there had been survivors, perhaps. Maybe, it would allow them to live for another day while Geumsaegi tried to verify the information.
It was the hushed whispers that had woken him up, minutes before Geumsaegi banged his fist on the bars of the cell, other hand raising his gun.
“Get up! This area is going to flood soon, so be grateful I am moving your sorry traitor asses!”
“Look who is talking, traitor!” Mulmangcho was silenced by the cocking of the gun. Oegwipali was on his feet faster, no sign of the previous moment of sleep in his face.
“If this place is flooding, then it is no wonder there is such a cool breeze constantly flowing!” he appeared nervous, yet optimistic that they were not going to be killed at that moment. The Special Aide’s fur began to blow in the underground wind.
“No tricks. Everyone upstairs is on edge due to some murders, and likely to shoot on sight if you give them a reason. I am doing this for the workers who would feel bad if you died.” The guard mouse scoffed. An alarm light flashed, briefly, warning of something.
The group of four moved down the corridor towards the closest elevator as the water began rushing in, rising to their ankles, dark and smelling of oil and something foreign. The Special Aide and the guard motioned for the shackled mice to open the large double doors in front of them. Grabbing the handles on either side, the mice pushed the doors outward, revealing the corridor, as well as a loud roaring.
A pause. The source of the roaring became evident as a wall of water rushed through from the other side, height far over their heads and towards the ceiling. The mice pulled the doors shut, quickly and quietly, while Geumsaegi hit the emergency seal afterwards.
“This seal won’t hold back this much water for long! Move to the other elevator!” another rumbling, possibly an explosion. It was a blessing that the engineers had turned the computer voice recognition back from the language of the United States Alliance.
The four sprinted now, reaching the other elevator just as the lights in it shorted out, rendering it inoperable. The group moved towards the stairwell, opening the door to find water pouring down, far too much to be able to power through it.
Geumsaegi sighed turning, yet keeping an eye on the prisoners, “I read some of the schematics on the Porasu Outpost before we left…there should be an emergency watertight shelter nearby…”
“If there is a watertight emergency shelter nearby, do you really want us all to be stuck together? Or do you plan to pin me down, again?” Mulmangcho was not sure if he could take being stuck in a room with his hated enemy and lackey pointing guns at him.
Geumsaegi pried open a door leading to a dark room, staring blankly yet darkly. “I would rather shoot you than waste the energy. Get in.”
The emergency shelter was attached to whatever generator ran the rest of the facility, allowing for some emergency lights. Slightly raised, it allowed the little group to emerge from the rising water. Their fears were not assuaged, however, forcing them to pause before closing the door.
“It appears the explosions may have damaged this place,” the guard mused.
“I can see dirt through the cracks, so water should not come through here.” Geumsaegi affirmed. He was not quite sure if that was true.
“I don’t like the way the walls move…I might be getting sick from the water…” Oegwipali muttered, leaning against said wall, away from the guns.
“Why do we have to stay here? I can just burrow us out.” Mulmangcho grumbled, keeping his eye on the one most likely to shoot. He kicked a pile of dirt away, and then frowned. “Is the oil mixed in with the seawater a huge irritant? It is starting to feel a little itchy.”
“That is not important right now.” Something creaked, as more dirt fell from the cracks. Plaster from the tiles drifted from the ceiling, but appeared otherwise stable. The mouse guard stamped his foot, looking annoyed, scratching an ankle.
“Hey. Wait a minute…” Oegwipali, absentminded scratching himself, began to brush and his back and arms, looking closer at the walls. “Is this fiberglass or something?”
A ceiling tile fell in from of the squirrel, scattering dirt. Geumsaegi began to wonder if the shelter was truly safe after all. Another above him split open, covering him in dirt. No, not dirt.
Oh, Geumsaegi thought numbly, half in shock from surprise and sudden invasion of his clothes, remembering the scientist tracking something on the grounds with a radar. That is what he meant by the colonies were moving. “I guess the local ant colonies went this deep underground. Their nests and above ground must be flooded.” He preferred a regular shower, but those had not always worked for ducks back on Flower Hill. Anting had been something he had somewhat enjoyed with the ducks and other birds back in Flower Hill as a way to build community, leaving him nonplussed by the sudden bath. Ants were very good at removing dirt and impurities from the fur, and especially parasites before medications to prevent such infestations came into regular use, although it was only a faint hope that they could removed the salt. This, however, might be a bit much, especially if they were entering his clothes as he continued to stand under the downpour, especially if he did not know the species of ants. Not fire ants, at the very least.
He had forgotten how being covered in ants would look for outsiders.
Ignoring the threat of the gun, Mulmangcho and Oegwipali barged out the shelter, screaming in disgust, slapping at themselves, followed by the guard who followed suit.
They paused.
Mulmangcho shrugged. “Well, this is easy enough.” He was NOT going to die this way, not covered in disgusting insects, not before his revenge was complete. He needed more that the look of shock from the Special Aide as the insects covered him.
He turned to the stone wall. “I guess you can all just follow behind me!” he gloated. It was time to show his worth. Picking a place above the water level, he began to burrow, heading forward and upward.
“Hmm. Mulmangcho. I really would not do that if I were you.” Geumsaegi had joined the group, pawing ants away from his ears.
“Lay off! This means you can survive as well! So shut the fuck up!”
“It is a really bad idea to burrow through the walls and floor of this facility.”
“What do you know?” He dug through the dirt as if he was swimming.
Geumsaegi allowed himself a small bark of laughter as Mulmangcho hit the electrified wires meant to prevent infiltration via digging. Not enough to kill, unfortunately, only knock unconscious for a while.
The squirrel moved back into the elevator, casually jumping up to the ceiling and balancing himself as Oegwipali moved to rescue his brother sinking into the oil mixed water. Without needing to worry about being attacked, he finished unscrewing the rest of the screws on the vent with the multitool, pulling it off.
Splashing down, he assisted the mouse guard through the hole, allowing a panting Oegwipali to drag his older brother up next, before he followed as the last.
“What now, boss?” the guard asked.
“Well, we climb the ladder until the water rises enough to force us all the way to the top. And then hope we can find the exit.” The emergency beacons lit up the elevator shaft as a metal shattering sound came from the far hallway, water flooding the elevator immediately afterwards.
“Climb! Climb now!”
The four clambered out of the elevator shaft, coughing and panting. The water breaking down the emergency door had pushed them up most of the way, before it was drained out, leaving them covered in somewhat slippery and dark colored liquid that chafed under their clothes from the salt and ants. They had been lucky not to get caught on anything on the shaft that would have pinned and drowned them. It had been a hard climb after that, especially having to half carry a half unconscious Mulmangcho. He should have just kicked them down the ladder to their deaths. The guard would have backed him up.
But, here they were, all alive on the main floor. He could hear yelling over the flashing of the emergency lights and howling of the storm outside. He began to move the group towards the cafeteria.
“Hold it right there!” the voice brooked no argument. Geumsaegi’s glare turned to one of resignation as he recognized a white medical uniform, a crow from the hospital wing.
“The water from down below may have been mixed with An'obutaniumu as well as oil! We need to get you all to the medical bay immediately to test for contamination! You could get seriously sick!”
Geumsaegi tensed in alarm, sighing.
Notes:
Anting is a maintenance behavior during which animals, usually birds, but sometimes squirrels, rub insects, usually ants, on their feathers and skin to help clean themselves. Supposedly it also helps to kill and repel parasites. Either the animal rubs the ants over themselves or they sit in the nest.
There is a reason for the ants that will be explained in the next chapter.
Also some dialogue may have been inspired by Comissionofgamers Stormworks.
Chapter 11: Perpetuate
Summary:
As Geumsaegi attempts to recover from his previous ordeal, the other scouts begin to make their moves
Notes:
Might as well lean into the joke since it is getting away from me. The length of this story arc is also getting away from me, but should be wrapped up by the next chapter. We will get back into the episodic feel eventually.
Holidays and family vacations are coming up, plus I have plans for some Christmas themed fanart and fanfic for December, so I am not sure if I will be able to get the next chapter up until January.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The rush of high-ranking outsiders forcing themselves into the medical bay surprised the crows and mice that served as staff in the department. Agitation had already been high due to the mysterious murders happening in quick succession, forcing the difficult tasks of storing the dead when they had expected plenty of free time during the typhoon. Agitation especially increased by, of course, the death of one of their own. Despite the Weasel Unit’s crow pilot being part of high command, and therefore not to be fully trusted, it was natural for crows to want to investigate any death of an individual of their kind. As medics, however, they could not leave to investigate a mystery on their own, as they would risk losing their neutrality. Almost no nation would attack a medic, regardless of their faction or position, unless the medic broke their rule of impartiality and gave them a reason. As a result, the group was surly, feathers puffed out with grating coos, as the mice that served as nurses moved quietly to avoid triggering any outbursts from their superiors.
“Uisa Kkamagwi, is the large scanner really necessary in this situation?” One of the braver nurses questioned the crow doctor. “We can just run the necessary blood work to test for the levels, or use a handheld scanner.”
The white dressed crow twitched his head, flaring out feathers around his neck as if he had hiccuped, forcing the mouse to blink in confusion, yet draw back. “This will be much faster, especially since they have not been registered by the main scanner. Otherwise, we would have to input the data ourselves instead of it being automatically uploaded to the data base. Besides, perhaps we should use it to send information back to the Weasel Command to inform them that their subordinates are still alive, so they don’t get worried and try to send more soldiers in this weather. I am sure that they much have vehicles capable of making the trip, and we already have enough problems with the extra nonworking staff around using our facilities.” Clearly, half of the speech was a jab at the Weasel and Wolf Unit command, but not enough to put him under review for addressing legitimate concerns.
Geumsaegi, who had been pacing to ignore the growing sensation of ants moving under his clothes, paused. “You have the ability to contact central command, here, in the medical bay, even with the main communication systems down? Why was I not informed of this? Let me make a call at once!” He could ask what to do with the mice now that they were not needed, although it was imperative to update Commanders Seungnyangi and Huinjogjebi on the situation at hand. If alone and the line was not recorded, he could even call Flower Hill to inform them of the recent vacancies, if they had any other scouts that could reasonably take over the positions without raising suspicion. It would be so nice to hear one of their voices after his previous hopes had been dampened.
The crow waved his wing, dismissively. “I can send medical data from the scanner only, using the version of the Ratatoskr system we are permitted to use. Other versions would allow full transmissions, but we don’t have those.”
“Ratatoskr? I do not believe I have heard that term.” Is it a secure method of communication I would have to worry about the enemies using?
“It is a method of non-military communication, like social media if you soldiers know what that is. It is named after some country’s belief in a creature that carries messages despite the most severe weather or other dangerous circumstances, as the program is able to do the same due to specialized satellites. We cannot have Ratatoskr fully downloaded at this facility, since it does enable secure communications that could be held in secret, and that is too much of a risk.”
Geumsaegi nodded. “So, it is a system of electronic letter, but with better signal.” Electronic letters were not used much within the Weasel Unit due to hacking concerns, although he had heard of their usage in the civilian work sectors. Surely, an actual in-person meeting would be easier?
The crow doctor paused for a moment, as if wanting to correct the disguised squirrel about what he had said, and then decided against it. “Correct! But here, we can only send your vital scans to our great commanders to prove that you are alive.” He gestured towards a large circular scale attached to the floor. “Please, step on the sensor, and stand still while I start the downloads of your Bioscan into a keycard.”
The head of security inspected one of the handheld devices in curiosity. “So, the smaller version, you have to manually input the data later, while the larger one stores it in a database where it could be deleted or lost during a power outage? You do not keep paper records of all the medical information even if you use the larger scanner?”
The feathers around the crow’s head appeared to settle, preparing to explain something important, “Now is as good a time as any to display the new technology to high command, is it not?”
The weasel frowned, annoyed at the deflection of a security risk he should have known about, and then decided it was not his problem to solve if data was accidentally deleted without backups. He tried to place the scanner back on its pad, missing and knocking paperwork and other scanners onto the floor, dislodging the air horn in his pocket. Growling, he pocketed the device before moving the clipboards and other medical devices back into place.
Geumsaegi moved, wondering if he should take off his boots to prevent a misreading, and decided not to. It was possible that the loose ants would be able to contaminate sterilized equipment, causing problems around the lab that would upset the already annoyed crows, turning them against him should he need their compliance. To his surprise, instead of his weight, a humming sound engaged from the platform, vibrating his very bones, unnerving him. Before he could move from his position, grids of beams traveled up and down his body, occasionally clicking and chirping, obscuring his vision of the mice he had been watching. After a long minute, it was over. Quickly, he checked the mice, noticing them pretending to inspect microscope cameras, as they and rest of the staff rushed to inspect the modified display of personal data of the much rumored about Special Aide.
Subject: Special Aide
Occupation: Visitor, Special Aide
Species: Dormouse
Species variation: small (note)
Alliance: Teikoku (note), Usuhan Jiyeog Weasel Unit
Heart rate: 300 beats per minute
Blood pressure: High, within parameters
Diseases: none
Parasites: none
Injuries: none
An'obutaniumu contamination level: none
The crows chuckled amongst themselves as the information flashed to the room. “Healthy one, isn’t he? And no diseases or parasites…how odd for a mouse…”
“I do prefer to eat my food cooked, unlike the other mice.” Geumsaegi offered, to the approval of the medical staff. “I cannot be sick while I am helping to win victories for the Weasel Unit!” He did not quite like having any of his personal information flashed around, but at least Flower Hill had prepared for the unlikely event that a high-tech scanner would be used on him, hacking the databases beforehand to upload such information. Although, how often he and Flower Hill were having to fall back on previously unneeded contingency plans was becoming worrisome, as if they were just barely keeping ahead of the enemies’ schemes. At the very least, Mulmangcho’s exasperation was amusing, especially paired with the smug look of his guard.
He watched as Mulmangcho was forced to stand on the platform next.
Subject: Mulmangcho
Occupation: Unavailable/expunged. Last known occupation: restaurant manager
Species: Mouse
Species variation: None
Alliance: Usuhan Jiyeog, (note)
Heart rate: 600 beats per minute
Blood pressure: High, within parameters.
Diseases: none
Parasites: none
Injuries: missing section of tail, mild contusions
An'obutaniumu contamination level: none
Turning away as Oegwipali’s scan showed nothing of interest to him, Geumsaegi watched as the crow doctor approached him with a lanyard and a red keycard. “I cannot have the ants in your clothes infest my equipment, you understand. Please take someone for protection and go down to the locker room to bathe in one of the showers. I have a spare set of clothes for you in locker number 724 while we launder yours.”
“I cannot leave the prisoners alone.” Geumsaegi rebutted. All the same, he knew better than to argue with a medic over his equipment.
“There are guards in this med bay and around the base that can watch them for a short time. They will stay here, where they can be observed until your return.”
It had been a quick, yet efficient, shower. The layers of his clothing, plus his thick fur, had prevented the ants from being able to burrow too deep into his pelt, simply washing off into the drain, some crawling out into the locker room to disappear into parts unknown. Possibly into the ant traps he had seen scattered in a few corners around the outpost, which made more sense in hindsight, and would also explain why the scientists had been tracking the populations of the insects. But he had to dress quickly, to avoid being vulnerable for too long.
It was not as if Geumsaegi was fully alone. Jijilhagja and Enjinieo sat in one of the recreation quarters attached to the locker room, partially for his protection, but mostly for taking further geological data measurements to make sure that there was no damage to the base during the storm surge or flooding. They might as well, since the shaking and humming from the usually occupied laundry room attached to the opposite side of the showers would have usually messed with their equipment if they tired to use it in the area. The hyena had seemed proud of his designs protecting the outpost, despite his apparent fear over it not working in the beginning. The flood tunnels had to be new, or somewhat rushed, for the waters to not only flood the brig, but also short the elevators while submerging the stairwells. Well, that would be fixed soon enough in the next iteration, he could guess.
The full body driers were pleasantly warm, if far too loud for his liking. The uniform in his locker, however, fit fine for him, even if it did not convey his status as Special Aide. He could have to be more forceful in dealing with the regular staff, if he wanted to be taken more seriously. Being bathed in ants was likely to have already started some rumors and lowered his reputation, and allowing for that to happen had been a mistake on his part that he would not make again.
As he finished pulling his arms into the sleeves and moved to slip on the boots, a vent grate rustled in the laundry room on the other side, possibly preparing to blow in some air to remove the extra humidity.
Still… with the possibility of an intruder slipping away… A quick walk around, and nothing was found in the room, vent firmly screwed shut. And how could there be any danger, with the mole and the hyena providing intimidating backup? He turned to move back, and then noticed a small flashing object rattling on the group. He moved to inspect it.
“Don’t turn around, or even move unless I say so. Keep your voice down.” Something pointed at his back.
Geumsaegi was unable to stop the sharp gasp as he jolted, and then relaxed. Not sharp enough to be a knife, somewhat blunt. A gun, perhaps? But why had the assailant not fired?
“Ah…so what are you after?” Geumsaegi raised his hands into view as he stood, holding them at shoulder height to express that he was unarmed and willing to comply with demands. Directly behind the door, a hamper full of clothes sat disturbed. How could I have been so stupid? I know better than that!
“I don’t need to hurt you, as long as you do as I say.”
“Within reason, I could be good…” he had to think of a way to move away and turn the tables on the possible enemy. There was still a possibility that it could be a friend, testing him.
“Move over to your locker, and reach under the second uniform.”
Slowly, the two moved forward, around the benches. Geumsaegi tried to spot the other’s reflection in the lockers and metal of the bench legs, only seeing splotches of yellow and brown fur and clothing. Reaching under the clothes, he located a pair of handcuffs and a packet of sleeping pills, slowly pulling them out, ear twitching in mild disbelief.
“I suppose you want me to move into the closet, and handcuff myself to a pipe?” Why did I leave my gun on the lower rack? The one behind him would surely shoot him before he could reach down and grab it, removing the option unless he could catch him by surprise, maybe even steal the other’s weapon for himself.
“That was the original plan, but it cannot be done with the, uh, company in the other room. I want you to take three of the pills there, and sit very still until they take effect.”
“What is it you are after?”
“Take the pills.”
“How do I know you won’t just slit my throat afterwards? You did try to blow up the base.”
“The idiot who tried to blow up the base is not related to me nor my commander,” the assailant sighed. “Still, I suppose questions are reasonable in this situation, and it could benefit the both of us. Move over to the bench and sit down, if we are going to talk. Do not look behind you.”
Carefully, deliberately, Geusmaegi moved over to one of the benches, sitting down, still unable to see who was behind him. It is a good sign that he has been this reasonable, at least, to agree to answer questions. Clever though, since it would be too difficult for me to spring up and attack from a seated position like this. Clearly, he was wanted alive, and the scout behind him knew what he was doing.
“So, you are not the scout who killed the others?”
“None of my methods would have resulted in any deaths. You should have seen the state of the bodies, it takes a lot of strength to do that, and I do not have the ability to snap the spines of opponents if they were fighting back.” Geumsaegi remembered how Geomsagwan had fought back, before being overcome.
So, this is one of the mice, then, if he is not as strong as the weasels. He does not sound like Nodongja. Yuji, maybe?
“Two groups, then, trying to steal Commander Huinjogjebi’s data on the minerals for his weapons.”
“I think the other one is just trying to blow up the outpost to remove the old weasel’s source of power in the military. Not as civilized. Much better to take it over for ourselves and use it against him.”
Shame they are both not trying to destroy the An'obutaniumu.
The mouse continued, calmly. “I want the data on the An'obutaniumu, alternate energy, weapons, and other information that is stored in the science and research wing. And then I can leave. All I need is your keycard, and I’ll lock you in the closet once you are asleep and let you live.”
“So, Seupai, that must mean you are part of a traitor group trying to collect the An'obutaniumu for yourselves, to prepare for a coup attempt. What are you using it for? A spare Iron Crow, or did one of the sturgeons survive? I suppose the influx of soldiers to the base would provide a good opportunity for your loyalists to infiltrate the ranks. You could not wait long enough to get your own keycard for the restricted science wing, which means your plans had to be moved up due to some unforeseen consequences. Was your plot sniffed out? Let me guess. Whatever is left of the former Chief of Staff’s rebellion?” The squirrel could hear the other’s grip on the weapon tighten at the mention of the name spy, suggesting that while the mouse was a scout, he was known for something more specific in his methods. Good to know.
There was further turmoil that appeared to come from the mention of the Chief of Staff. So that’s it. “And you can’t kill me, because the keycard would set off some sort of alarm, or deactivate it.” He could sense the other becoming increasingly unnerved as he unraveled the details of the plan, which could give him an opportunity to- the mouse suddenly regained control of himself, leaning forward slightly, conspiratorially. Damn it.
“Some time ago, Scout Commander Aekku inspected the facility for possible infiltration points from enemy nations. While he was here, he secretly installed a specialty data collecting device behind the painting in the reception area of the science and research wing. It has access to the mainframe, and has been collecting all the input data for the An'obutaniumu research, as well as possible weapon designs and every conversation had over the computers. However, it also contains data on the rebellions in the Weasel and Wolf Units, as well as proof left by Scout Master Aekku on Scouts hidden amongst the Weasel Unit, from Flower Hill, Chaand Hadia, and Chambelli Koh. Aekku also knew of secret ways to infiltrate Flower Hill, as well as some weaknesses of their army and command center, that he did not turn over to Commander Jogjebi in case he needed a trump card.”
“Oh?” Geumsaegi managed to sound intrigued, listening intently.
“If we can get our hands on what he left here, we can have both the power of the An'obutaniumu, as well as the knowledge to hunt down the scouts hidden among the Weasel Unit. Once those are captured, we could use them to dispose of the current useless commanders, and occupy Flower Hill at last with a more competent set of commanders!”
“We? You are including me in this terrible plot of yours? First you work for the traitorous Aekku, and then you throw your lot in with the Chief of Staff?” I need to get that data! If Aekku was involved, not only could it compromise him and the other scouts, it was backup data that would not be missed if he wanted to hand it over to Flower Hill. He is suggesting another list of Weasel Unit scouts that were not listed in the other document, since that one was Flower Hill specific. The squirrel shivered at the realization of the danger his beloved Hill had been in all this time, for the information to destroy it have been up for the taking all along. If we could get our hands on that information, then we could give it to our allies, so they can get revenge on the enemies as well!
“You are far too valuable to lose, right now. As the Special Aide and former Guard Commander, you know far too many codes to be allowed to die or let loose. My commander is willing to offer you many rewards should you join us willingly, and I can make it look good for you by restraining you down here. I tried to resist the Chief of Staff’s group, but well…they have methods. It hurts, at first, betraying everyone you cared about, but after a while you worry less and less about it…”
Geumsaegi’s voice raised slightly, hoping to gain attention, “How dare you think that I would betray-”
Unprepared, Geumsaegi gave a short, gasping shriek as the stun baton activated, enough to force his muscles to lock up, but short enough of a duration for the mouse to be forced to cover his mouth once he slumped to the ground, stopping any further cries.
“Everything alright in there!?” the hyena called over.
“SHIT-FUCK! CURSED ANTS!” the mouse yelled back. The hyena could be heard moving away, not wanting to come into contact with the small insects.
Enough of a distraction, Geumsaegi regained his strength, shoving the mouse off of him, who danced and dodged away and around him, shock stick flashing in warning as he circled the squirrel.
Quickly, Geumsaegi lunged for the gun in the lower section of his locker, grabbing at the trigger as the mouse dropped a small circular device, room flashing a brilliant white, allowing for an escape from the bullet and an opportunity to run, to pounce again later.
It had been a long night, but Geumsaegi had the information he needed, having finally gotten away from any pursuers. He had barricaded his own door with the dresser so he could sleep, but the paranoia of someone breaking in, especially after the locker room, was still there. But the disguised Special Aide knew what needed to be done. Despite the murders and the investigations, he would not be able to tell the superiors and department heads about what had transpired in the locker room, even if he suspected that they were part of any other espionage group. The information that the Chief of Staff was continuing his rebellion, or that Aekku had contingency plans for the Mount Rock rebels in the case of his death, had to be kept a secret, for now.
After all, as Special Aide, he was well known for his ability to hunt down traitors, exterminating them on sight and quashing rebellions. If he revealed that he knew the Chief of Staff was alive, other inhabitants of the base might get alarmed and think he would come after their own misgivings.
And he had to keep the keycard safe. It would be dangerous if anyone other than him got a hold of it. There was no way to use any explosives to take down the drill, now, especially not with the materials it was made out of, which meant any other disguised mice or weasels would focus on the data disk in the labs.
But the physical mineral was not the important issue. He knew the location of the data disk that held all the information for the base, and possibly that of Flower Hill’s rival and allied nations. If what the disguised mouse had heard was true, he could obtain the info that could destroy both Flower Hill, and the Weasel and Wolf Units all at once, or at least their commanders, if it fell into the wrong hands. A dangerous operation, one that he really should not perform without the instructions of his commanders, given the inability to hide, but perhaps one they would have wanted as a desperate measure. At the very least, they could find a countermeasure for what was inside, or finally find and exploit a large weakness.
He just needed a way to get into the research labs department without drawing suspicion or being seen. A bit harder to do when he had never been inside the actual area, but if he could disappear for a bit, he could use the keycard to run in and steal the disk, and then claim that the card was stolen from him if what doors it would open was tracked. There was also the possibility that he could simply remove the keycard scanner from the door and hack the device, allowing him inside.
Before returning to the cafeteria, Geumsaegi once again crept into the electrical room, inspecting the repair job on the wires. Removing the multitool, he carefully used the knife to fray the electrical tape, allowing the unraveled wires to weaken. Soon enough, they would break apart, once again plunging the facility into darkness that he could use to slip away and complete his plan.
The Special Aide was up to something, no doubt on a mission for Flower Hill. But to do what, exactly? Surely, Chambelli Koh had their own scouts in the base that would feed information back to Flower Hill, if not sabotage the outpost in his place. Mulmangcho stared at the disguised mouse as he moved around the outpost, completely unbothered by the aggression placed his way by the captives. What is he so confident about? What has he done?
As one of the local guards standing in for Geumsaegi’s lackey took Oegwipali to the bathroom, leaving him in the hallway, the bespectacled mouse crawled into the room and crouched next to the blinking towers, discreetly using the stolen surgical camera to take pictures as the Special Aide slashed at the wires.
Vindication swelled in his chest as his breathing became heavier, struggling to control it to avoid detection. He had proof. He finally had proof that the Special Aide was a saboteur, and therefore, a traitor. But the mouse had long since learned that he needed to bide his time, heart filling with a clam rage as much as exhilaration, mind clearer than it had ever been before. Perhaps return to the medical bay and send the photos to the main base via Ratatoskr if he could figure the system out.
If he was careful about it, he and his brother could land a final win over that bastard. He could not wait to watch the squirrel’s face twist up in agony and regret as he was given what a traitor deserved. Once he had been proven correct, that the Special Aide had been a squirrel the whole time, there would be absolution and retribution, for him and everyone else who had been betrayed. Although, perhaps, he would have to hide the traitor somewhere, in order for himself and others to have their revenge on him first, before Commander Huinjogjebi simply blew his head off with little fanfare. No, the squirrel needed to be made an example of what would happen to those that went against the Weasel Unit. And besides, his currently confiscated pocket knife had an important date with the squirrel’s tail, to discuss creating a mirror injury with his own.
Mulmangcho waited outside the electrical room once he saw that the squirrel was finished with his work, pretending to be obedient and bored, biding his time. It would be best to show the automatically printed out pictures to a group that would be easier to control. Clearly, this job was to cause a blackout. Clever work to not shock himself in the process of damaging the wires. He would have done the same if he did not need to worry about the unpredictableness of when exactly the lights would fail, depending on the mission. He smiled, expecting the Special Aide to glare at him.
Instead, the Special Aide turned to stare back evenly, giving a slight, yet unnerving, smile. He was joined by the guard with his charge as they made their way to the cafeteria.
Well, it could not hurt to continue tag along with the Special Aide, to see if he did anything else suspicious. Gesturing for his brother to follow, Mulmangcho sat down at the table. If they were being watched at all times, they could use that to the advantage to the Weasel Unit. Somehow, he would find a way.
As long as I am watching him, he cannot team up with the other scouts to destroy the facility and stop Commander Huinjogjebi’s plans to occupy that blasted Hill. Unless the sabotage and letting me watch was just a ruse…what am I missing?
Geumsaegi sat across from the mice, waiting. With Mulmangcho and Oegwipali loose from the flooded cells, it was imperative that they be watched so that they at least did not steal a gun and more trouble. Who knew what they could do to escape? Especially knowing their possible fates once returned to the Weasel Unit. Would they be killed? Or would they be spared for a little while, to be used as ‘examples’ again?
They were joined by the outpost supervisor, Gamdogja. “I will need to make a report, soon. Commander Huinjogjebi does like for me to be punctual if something outside of the normal parameters occurs.”
“Has there been an infiltration before?” Geumsaegi asked, quizzically.
“No, no. It has usually been normal accidents and machine glitches, other than quite a few of the Scout Commander’s reports on possible infiltration points and the fixes. He liked to make sure that everything is working properly even while he was away. Although, I do find it strange about the events in the medical bay, earlier. Something did appear off, and not about the scans. It felt as if-”
The weasel paused, jerking his head back in surprise as Jijilhagja drifted behind him, absorbed in finishing his tea as he moved back to his place next to the engineer. He turned back, relaxing, yet muttering.
“It is quite hard getting used to someone bigger walking behind you. I guess given your size, you would be used to it, though.” Geumsaegi chose to ignore the comment, simply listening as the weasel continued.
“It sometimes feels as if there is one extra person who should not be here. I will see a mouse pass by, and then a minute later I will walk past another mouse, both with the same color lanyard, and it does not feel natural. But I have an idea. In one of the administration rooms, there is a table that can track the key cards and the biosignatures of the assigned owners. We can have everybody pair up and investigate, while the six of us go to see if there is a duplicate about, since there should only be one of each color walking around by now, barring gray.”
“Six of us?” Geumsaegi asked. Jijihadja began to move to retrieve more tea, the mole unbothered by the conversaion.
“The screen can only be accessed by inputting the codes that only I and Uisa have, so it should be fairly easy to-”
The axe, aimed at Gamdogja’s head, buried itself into Jijihadja’s back, body armor preventing injury. The mole and hyena wasted no time in sprinting off in the opposite direction, towards the door to the outside on the far end of the cafeteria, preferring to be soaked rather than witness what could possibly happen if they stayed. Geumsaegi and Gamdogja rose, pulling their guns of their holsters, looking towards the door to the hallway, where a tall figure was entering.
The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. Shit. This was certainly not what Geumsaegi had planned, possibly ruining his own scheme, if he could not get through the door before the emergency lights began to flash…
The plan was dashed the moment the figure opened fire across the cafeteria, Gamdogja falling backwards from the force of bullets, immediately, flickers of green suggesting night vision goggles. No way to escape out that door, not when the figure would be able to see him. Instead, Geumsaegi turned and sprinted towards the outer door where the mole and hyena had exited, leading into the still pouring and relentless rain.
“What were the wolves in the cafeteria with us doing?” He vented, briefly leaning against the outer wall in order to catch his breath.
“Shit-Fuck!” The two mice had the same idea to run outside, slightly slower thanks to the shackles, almost not expecting to see their enemy.
“Who is the target this time?” Owegipali asked, quickly moving away from the windows as shots began to blast though the glass and plywood.
“Anyone, I would think. We all know too much about how the Weasel Unit works,” Mulmangcho muttered. One would expect this glass to be bulletproof considering the location and security of the rest of the facility. But no, they have to have such a big weakness where a missile could come through aimed at the air transports. It was not something to linger on, not when they had to worry about the mystery of where the bullets were going to come out of next. Especially as the individual gunshots became the stead roar of a machine gun.
“Quickly! We can take shelter behind the Wolf Unit’s helicopters! They should protect us from the bullets!” Geumsaegi dragged the mice along, ignoring the glares as the bullets did indeed ricochet off the hull of the monstrous vehicles.
The trajectory of the bullets towards the outside died down, yet intensifying inside the cafeteria alongside screams as reinforcements arrived to join the battle. Turning, Geumsaegi noticed the mole and the hyena crouched near the far side the of landing pads, waiting.
Moving to the front of the helicopter, he inspected the guns, staring in curiosity at the large white lettering as they shone through the raindrops. “And what does this say…?” he muttered to himself, leaning against a barrel. He turned to see Mulmangcho staring at him. “What are you looking at? Mind your distance.”
Oegwipali leaned over the other barrel, waiting for the standoff to end. Waiting for the squirrel to lower his guard so that he could slip under the guns, tackle the traitor, and finally take their revenge, even if it got them killed. He moved down slightly.
Mulmangcho frowned, “Don’t lean on that, the warning says-”
Oegwipali collapsed backwards on the ground as Geumsaegi shifted, slighting rotating the barrels, sending a massive burst of bullets into the cafeteria, obliterating the plywood and glass. The sound of bullets from the inside stopped.
“Gun will fire if rotated by hand…” Ears flat against his head, Mulmangcho turned to look at the Special Aide, currently crouched near the ground in surprise from the sudden noise and vibrations. Not time yet. The idiot wolves inside would be mad and unwilling to listen.
“I killed him! I killed him! I am victorious!” the red filter of the emergency lights illuminated a wolf, staggering in circles, waving his gun around towards a figure lying near the door.
“That is a cardboard cutout you idiot! The attacker got away!” another wolf vented, stealing the first wolf’s steam. Other wolves stared at the dead body of the weasel, wondering whose bullets had killed him.
There was no sign or video recording of the attacker as the crows took the supervisor’s body away.
I see what that weasel bastard is doing. Clever. Geumsaegi lamented quietly. He is putting pressure on me to break into the science lab for him, before he kills all of my allies that would try to help me. I cannot allow for him to get a hold on the data that may endanger my beloved hometown.
It was not as easy to repair the electrical wires with simple tape a second time, leaving some functions of the base, such as the elevators, offline until complete repairs could be done. Outside of the elevators, there were the larger dumbwaiter type elevators that could be used in emergencies, only requiring a pulley and the strength of the individuals inside of them.
With the base further on lockdown, it was imperative to hunt down the attacker in the cafeteria. Surely, after all the bullets that had been flying around, the weasel had been hit? There should be a trail of blood somewhere.
Geumsaegi doubted it. the weasel had been near the door, and could have immediately slipped out during the chaos when everyone else began firing, if not joined the group.
While everyone else was watching the floors and walls, Geumsaegi climbed into one of the dumbwaiters, glancing up and down, looking for any signs of recent use. A noise from beneath. Glancing down, the lights from the hallways slightly shone as a reflection in the dark water in the lower floors, having yet to fully drain out. It was possible, yet doubtful that someone would try to make an escape through there.
Briefly, the dumbwaiter jostled, forcing him to readjust a few times to catch his balance. The disguised mouse moved out, then gestured at the mice to leave.
“Ah! Let us check the attic! Surely if he has gone up, he cannot escape!” Sibjang and Seonjang pushed the Special Aide out of the way, climbing into the small manual elevator, crouching, closely followed by several wolves and mice who waited outside. “We will be right back!”
The two weasels began to pull on the ropes to lift themselves, only for one of the ends to fall slack towards the hallway, cut with a knife. For a moment, the witnesses stared, before the dumbwaiter plummeted into the watery depths with its occupants still inside. The screams were drowned out by the sounds of scraping metal on the sides of the track.
The inhabitants of the hallway turned to look at Geumsaegi, the last individual seen inside the vehicle, with a strange look. “I did not check the ropes while I was in there. I only meant to check to see if I could see anyone above or below…”
“I am calling an emergency meeting,” Boanjogjebi stated.
The surviving group once again sat around the table in the cafeteria, more wolves filing around the surrounding walls to prevent another incident. Instead of plywood, the demolished windows had been covered in sheets of metal. It would be a terrible effort to remove the nails that the brutes had slammed into the walls in their haste to complete the job while being soaked.
“What was Gamdogja trying to say about the administration office before he was killed? It sounded important.” Boanjogjebi was almost a nervous wreck, muttering as he scrambled to put the clues together. The others leaned away from him, less concerned about the temper of a weasel, and more concerned about becoming collateral if he was to be next in line to be killed.
“He was beginning to discuss about department bio signatures showing up alongside keycards in the administration office, something only he and Uisa had the codes to use.” Geumsaegi began. It was unlikely that the crow would be the next target. At least, not immediately, as long as he only observed. The security weasel frowned, briefly touching his pocket with the air horn and fingering the contents within in surprise.
“Yes, however, it requires both of our codes to work, and I did not know his,” the crow lamented, having been asked by the group leaders to join them in the cafeteria, possibly to discuss the fate of the bodies. Or to provide emergency medical assistance, just in case.
“So, I would assume that that method is out,” Geumsaegi began, flipping a hand under his nose. “The question is, who do these infiltrators work for? Flower Hill? Chaand Hadia? Chambelli Koh? Different scouts from all three with different agendas, or even another country? It is very hard to tell from a passing glance.”
The mouse guard began to laugh, gesturing with his gun towards Mulmangcho and Oegwipali, as the others blanched and snarled slightly at the sudden movement of the weapon. “It could even be a rescue attempt by Flower Hill to extract their agents!”
Mulmangcho squeaked his own laugh back, “Sending us here was quite a surprise for everyone involved, let alone Flower Hill, and the scouts have been here for months!”
“Ok, a change of plans took place-”
“We are in Chambelli Koh,” a wolf piped in, “they could be trying to get their base back.”
The mole shook his head somberly as the hyena glanced away. “Impossible. This is our precious research facility. We would never do something that would disrupt proper operations.” The tone was almost angry at the thought of his research being lost.
Deulilleo, the driller, piqued up. “Maybe the scouts are all a decoy! After all, Boanjogjebi would get a massive promotion in rank and pay if the other members of the command staff were to disappear…”
The weasel turned, coldly. “I am perfectly happy with my current occupation and rank. If I wanted a higher position, I would have needed Geomsagwan alive. Even with the deaths of the others, I would still have to bribe and blackmail quite a few individuals in order be considered for the promotion. One would have to be a complete fool to get rid of their greatest asset, or anyone with the ability to obtain sensitive information like he could without arising ire. I would have given him the head of security position if he wanted it in return, easily, if either of us had wanted to move up.”
“Discussing alternative scouts and murderers leads us nowhere.” Mulmangcho began. “The infiltrations and reason for the deaths are very clear. This is most likely the work of the Special Aide, at the behest of Flower Hill. You were all made soft beforehand by light sabotage, and now that he is here, at the facility, the true plan can be put into action! Although whether you intend to destroy the facility or simply cause enough distractions so you can steal the data for Flower Hill I do not know.”
Geumsaegi laughed, voice high as he crossed his arms, bringing one leg up and over the other as he leaned back, smugly. “How many times are you going to accuse me of being a traitor, after everything you have done proving your own betrayals?”
Wordlessly, Mulmangcho spread out the photos of the Special Aide cutting the tape off the wires in the electrical room. Geumsaegi froze, heart rate increasing. Shit! How could I have made such a mistake? Did he follow me in instead of waiting outside?
Flippantly, he waved his arm. “I heard a strange noise coming from the grate in the room and went in to investigate. It was too dangerous to use a gun, so I simply pulled out a knife to protect myself while I investigated.” He moved to fling the photos aside before anyone noticed that he was actually touching the insulated wires.
Too late, as the rest of the table managed to snatch a few, looking up between the Special Aide and Mulmangcho with suspicious glances.
“Everything did start to go to shit as soon as the Special Aide arrived…” someone whispered. The mouse guard appeared uncertain, his gun beginning to drift in the direction of his previous mentor upon seeing the proof.
“That’s right!” Uisa exclaimed, tapping his claws. “As soon as high command’s Special Aide appeared, the assassinations started, along with the explosions, and the stalking, alongside whoever was embedded before him. And he had all the perfect times to do it whenever the lights went out, or the emergency lights were flashing. Especially before we started tracking everyone’s movements.”
“I believe that my record with the Weasel Unit speaks for itself. My job is to find and arrest traitors of the Weasel Unit, not to come in and sabotage the facility.”
“Your record is what we are worried about,” The crow continued. “How do we know that Commander Huinjogjebi did not order you to assassinate those whom he suspected of being a traitor, and to sabotage the base in order to cover it up? And while the investigations occurred, for you to sneak into the science labs and steal the data for himself?”
An opening. “And if I, and other Weasel Unit loyalists, were ordered to kill anyone Huinjogjebi suspected of being a traitor, and to steal a copy of the data to compare it with what Jijilhagja’s team would send over later to make sure they are not lying to us, what exactly would you all do about it? He has been very lenient with you all, being so far away from his control, especially after the toadstool bombs, but he is currently purging quite a lot of staff that he considers suspicious....” he leaned forward again, as if it had been the plan all along, only he was slightly annoyed at being found out.
Silence as realization and understanding began to fall on the group, the mouse guard nodding in horrified acceptance, moving his gun away again. “So, this investigation was all just a game you were playing with our lives?” Nodongja whispered, nodding towards Yuji, as the mining and drilling leads turned to look at each other in a mixture of disgust and awe.
“No, not quite. This is not exactly correct.” Mulmangcho learned forward, rage flashing in his eyes. “Something is very wrong here, now that I have had the chance to think about it. It is almost impossible for the Special Aide or Flower Hill to have been the perpetrators of the attacks.”
All eyes turned to the bespectacled mouse, those who had worked with him at the Weasel and Wolf bases overcome with surprise.
The Special Aide blinked.
“It is my mission to get revenge on the traitors who have nearly destroyed my life, and more importantly the success of the Weasel Unit I am loyal to. Therefore, the Special Aide is my main adversary, he hates me because I know that he is a scout for Flower Hill. But over the past day, the Special Aide has not shown any of his usual distrust towards me, or, at the very least, has been far too careless when in my presence, as if he knew of some greater danger. I could have stolen his gun many times.”
Oegwipali nodded towards the mouse guard. “This is something you should have noticed as well.”
“What are you insinuating now?” the guard snarled. The one eared mouse only smiled, not blinking away in fear as expected.
“The Special Aide can read and speak the language of the United States Alliance, but was confused by the warning on the helicopters, resulting in it being set off. He also let me sneak up and take pictures of him cutting the wires in the electrical room. Previously, he would have been far, far more careful in making sure no one saw him, let alone take photos.”
“The two of you could have been working together the whole time,” Gaengbu muttered.
“And one other thing! The cuts on the cables and ropes in the dumbwaiter were clearly old. Beforehand, the Special Aide never went near the dumbwaiter, nor was out of sight of the cameras except for his time in electrical, which even I can vouch for. It is impossible for him to have sabotaged the dumbwaiter, especially since he himself almost fell to his death. Everyone who has died were people loyal to him”
Geumsaegi shook his head. “That could possibly have been a trap you laid for me. While you were supposed to be in the brig, you burrowed up through the walls to sabotage the cables, knowing that the loss of electrical I may have planned to carry out my commander’s orders would short out the elevators, and I would be forced to use the dumbwaiter. Quite ingenious of you, as always, traitor.”
Dead silence from the group. “And not your weasel partner, who has been doing the killings where you were not strong enough?” Geumsaegi froze, realizing his mistake.
Mulmangcho began to rise, tears welling up as his victory was ripped from his grasp. “The base is rigged with electric cables and wires specifically to prevent burrowing through the walls, ceiling, and floors. Which is something the real Special Aide would know about.”
Mulmangcho pointed a shaking a finger across the table as the guard shouldered his weapon, understanding. “This Special Aide is an imposter!”
“What!? Are you out of your mind? Did that little water bath yesterday cook your brain? How could I possibly-”
A low chirp. Another low chirp. More chirps, increasing with frequency, as the scout slowly lowered his gun back into his holster. A screen rose from in front of Boanjogjebi, displaying the handheld medical scanner as the results began to appear.
Subject: Error/Unknown
Occupation: Unavailable/expunged.
Species: Mouse
Species variation: None
Alliance: Uknown
Heart rate: 750 beats per minute
Blood pressure: High, outside parameters, extreme stress
Diseases: none
Parasites: none
Injuries: mild damage to eye sockets, possible altered mental state
An'obutaniumu contamination level: none
“Wait…that means you really aren’t…” the mouse guard began to level his rifle.
The mysterious mouse removed a small object from his belt, throwing it to the ground, and then ducking away.
“Quick! Grab him! Get him before he-” but it was too late, as a blinding light filled the room, flashbang rendering eyesight useless alongside the high-pitched ringing as the mouse made his escape.
In the darkness, the sharp piercing of an emergency alarm forced a groggy figure to stir, attempting and failing to swat an ant from its nose.
Notes:
I figured there was a danger of one of the group of one-off characters reappearing later in the fanfic as an OC. I did not expect a few ideas to appear about the mouse spy, though.
Ratatoskr is the messenger squirrel from Norse mythology. I may have some ideas involving a messenger program, but mostly in another AU.
Chapter 12: Deduction
Summary:
As Geumsaegi’s time in the Porasu Outpost comes to a finale, the enemy scouts push for one final crescendo.
Notes:
I wanted to publish this chapter on the same day as the Sunchal and Bocho story, but I have a lot of important events going on right now so I could not get to it. The next chapter/next two chapters might come out late February or Early March.
Mojibja- Recruiter
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The locker room had been the last known location of the real Special Aide, as well as the most likely area for him to be attacked and replaced. It would have been easy, especially if someone had been lying in wait beforehand, for him to be alone and defenseless in the shower. The residents of the Porasu Outpost could only hope that he had not been disposed of as well, or the Command Center would have all of their heads, quite possibly slowly and painfully. It was almost a relief when the doors to the recreation room opened, allowing for a sensation of radiating anger to penetrate through the group from the other side, forcing even the accompanying security force to puff up their fur in brief alarm.
Almost, of course. The Special Aide could also have them killed for their incompetence, or to cover for his own humiliation in being captured. According to the stories they had heard, the Special Aide was known for having quite the temper when riled.
A clanging sound came from one of the closets towards the back, followed by a long, drawn-out chattering of teeth. The group froze. “Mice do not make that sound…” Boanjogjebi’s tail crossed over his knees as he frowned, briefly rubbing his chin.
“That is a sound produced by squirrels!” Mulmangcho hissed, as if they would believe him now in the excitement. Still, there was the chance that one of the idiots would come to their senses and ask questions.
Annoyed, Nodongja turned to offer a rebuttal, “We dormice make a chattering sound when annoyed as well. It is one of the reasons other than our appearance that we are often chosen as scouts to blend in with squirrels, since Flower Hill would hear that noise and not suspect them. I studied up on this when I wanted to apply to be a scout with Aekku…I even practiced to sound more like a squirrel, before I found out the truth about him,” the dormouse bemoaned.
Mulmangcho blinked, staring, as the head of security nodded in understanding.
A higher pitched squeak echoed through the room, followed by an angry grunt, and more clanging, ending in a thump and a quiet sigh. Still, the group was reluctant to move. After all, what if it was a trap?
One of the weasels nudged Enjinieo, pointing towards the door. “Well, you are a big, strong, brave male. Go open it!”
Enjinieo twisted his neck, staring evenly at the weasel for a moment, before blanching and turning towards a wall. “You have no idea about the social dynamics of male and female hyenas, do you?”
“Will…you…hurry up…?” The Special Aide’s staggered voice rang out from the closet, forcing the group to rush forward.
Subject: Special Aide
Occupation: Visitor, Special Aide
Species: Dormouse
Species variation: small (note)
Alliance: Teikoku (note), Usuhan Jiyeog Weasel Unit
Heart rate: 350 beats per minute
Blood pressure: High, within parameters, increasing
Diseases: none
Parasites: none
Injuries: tinnitus, contusions on head and wrists, sedation poisoning, residual symptoms of electric shock (note)
An'obutaniumu contamination level: none
Arguments aside, it had been relatively quick to unshackle the Special Aide from the wall of the utility closet, handcuffs taken as evidence alongside the bottle of pills conspicuously placed on a construction cone, clearly meant to be found. A taunt? Or a show of good faith for them to determine the best treatment for the victim?
The yellow mouse was enraged, sedatives attempting to rob him of his senses as he struggled to orient himself in the light to stay awake, but he still understood the purpose of promptly being tossed onto the large scanner.
“And you just… let him get away? The entire group of you?” Geumsaegi had been forced to wait for the beams of light to finish the scan before anyone could answer. The drowsiness was rapidly vanishing, but his comprehension was still seconds behind, and voluntary movement almost nonexistent.
“We were just as surprised as you were, but considering that mouse appears to be a professional scout that specializes in disguising as specific targets, it is to be expected. If Mulmangcho had not figured out that the ‘you,’ everyone saw was acting different than usual, no one would have figured it out. You are very lucky that Mulmangcho knows you so well!”
The nurses lifted the squirrel to one of the medical beds, forcing him to lie down as the rest of the group made to leave, the crow doctor pausing briefly by the door to let the higher-ranking weasels past before him. “And where are you going now?” Geumsaegi demanded.
“You will lie here and recover from the remainder of the drug that you were given. The rest of us have something to discuss about the next few steps we are going to take to secure the outpost. You should be safe here, with the nurses."
Geumsaegi frowned, wishing to rest, but also wanting to know the contents of the meeting. Even if he was given a summary, he would miss all the idiosyncrasies and debates leading up to the final conclusion, which could contain important information. His legs refused to hold him, forcing him to sit back down on the bed after his first and only attempt, nearly knocking over a vase of jasmine flowers in the process. He wished they were lilies.
“Uisa Kkamagwi, I will at least ask for you to check the laundry baskets for anyone hidden.” He had learned his lesson. He could not be caught unawares like that again, like some sort of trainee with no experience. Even Bamsaegi should have been able to notice such a trap. The commanders and Juldarami would be so... disappointed in him when he made his report. It was even possible that they might question his judgment and order him to return home, leaving Flower Hill without a protector watching over the schemes of their enemies.
“Hey. Wake up.”
The squirrel snapped from an unexpected light doze into full alertness, shakily raising his head to see an unfamiliar weasel sitting on a chair by the end of his bed. A blue uniform and keycard denoted him to be a member of the security force, but what was he doing in the medical bay? Was he assigned to guard me, or is he the other scout? Given that the weasel was sitting backwards in the chair, eschewing proper appearances, it was likely the latter. A regular weasel would have tried to suck up to him, possibly to gain favor for a better position elsewhere, pretending to ignore the species differences. Casually, he nodded at the weasel as he reached for his gun on the side table, as if he was simply going to put it on after a rest. Missing.
“Hey. Before you make any noise, I want you to know that the nurses are locked up in the other room. They won’t be able to assist or call for help if you yell.” The voice was calm, sinister, yet amused, as he pointed a smaller gun at the other’s legs, issuing a threat to not move.
“…Is that your way of saying hello? I assume you must be the other scout in the facility. I understand that you are from a different traitor group? A bit crowded with traitors here, isn’t it?” A bit harsher in tone than was safe, but it still got the point of his questions across as he continued to sit up, despite the weakness.
The weasel laughed. “Something like that. You can call me Mojibja. I presume that you know about the data chip Aekku stored in a disk in the science wing?”
“And you need my keycard to open the door, I presume? But yet, you could have taken it while I was asleep, and no one would have known. I suppose that you are also going to try and offer me a deal, because your commander thinks he can lead the Weasel Unit better than someone with actual experience?”
The weasel’s grin grew even wider as the tip of his tail flicked in amusement. “It was easy enough to bypass the wiring in the door itself to get it to open, rather than bother with a keycard. The panels were easy to remove. Especially with the power outage taking out the system to monitor when the door even opens and closes. It was quite difficult getting around the bugs Geomsagwan planted around the base, so I had to wait for that opportunity.”
I would have done the same myself, if I had managed to get by the door if the lights were out and I didn’t have a card. “Are you saying that you have the disk?” despite everything, he was curious.
Moving towards a monitor, Mojibja plugged a device into the side, making sure to continue to train the gun on the Special Aide. “let’s see.”
Geumsaegi startled as the data immediately flashed on the screen, arranging itself into easily readable sections. An'obutaniumu output and data. Iron Crow fuel and efficiency. Schematics for not only the toadstool bombs and the ice cannons, but other weapons he did not recognize, but just as likely to exist, aimed at Flower Hill. Files on specific weasels and mice in high command, thumbnails showing them in seemingly compromised situations, as well as files suggesting that they held the locations and habits of their family members.
But the parts that made his heart race was the thumbnails of areas in Flower Hill that he recognized. Places that no one should be able to enter, except for trusted staff in the command center. Pictures of Commanders Darami, Goseumdochi, and Murori, dates on the pictures displaying how the photographer was able to get closer and closer to them over time, clearly earning their trust. Photos of Weapons from both Flower Hill and other countries, with attached files detailing where exactly they were located, as well as their weaknesses. They all flew to be arranged into their respective folders, too fast for any concrete memorization.
I need that data! If he opens anything from Flower Hill, we will all be in great danger! He could already see the profiles of a few other Flower Hill scouts who had yet to be activated. If only one of them was caught, it could start a purge that could catch the others. Geumsaegi’s breathing quickened as he briefly lowered his head so the other could not see him blink away tears of panic, collecting himself once again.
Mojibja briefly flicked the cursor over the sections from Flower Hill, forcing Geumsaegi’s breath to catch in his throat, eyes beginning to glisten again, turning to a glare. The weasel noticed, mistaking it for eagerness. “My leader already has a few infiltrators embedded within Flower Hill, as well as the command center, so we would probably come across this information ourselves at some point…but there is one mystery anyone would want to know.”
He moved over a photo of the toadstool bombs, part of an activation code appearing in the background. “How many of these did he have, I wonder? It owuld make taking over other nations so much easier...” Pausing, he moved down to the folder that held the files on spy networks, containing subfolders of the Weasel Unit and Flower Hill.
If I let him open that, which group will he go for? I have to distract him! “Interesting. Are you looking for rival scout groups to destroy or coerce into joining you, before focusing on Flower Hill?”
The weasel’s eyes widened slightly in fascination, immediately clicking on the files for the Weasel Unit.
Password:
Both squirrel and weasel let out a shaky breath as they realized that not only was this group of files password protected, but it was possible the others were as well.
Mojibja backspaced, moving into the section on the weapons.
Password:
He moved down to data on the An'obutaniumu and anything else the staff may have input into computers that had been picked up.
Password:
Completely useless without the codes. Attempting to further move backwards revealed that the information that had passed in front of the screen as the disk was first activated was now inaccessible without the codes. “I wonder who would have the passwords…” the squirrel wondered.
The weasel chuckled, darkly. “Obviously, you would have some of them, at least, since you worked with the commanders enough. I would assume that you, as the Special Aide, would have created some of these passwords alongside Aekku before his death.”
The mice! Geumsaegi began his own, separate revelation. Mulmangcho and Oegwipali would have helped Aekku create these codes! They should know the passwords. If I can just get that data, and get them to Flower Hill somehow, we can destroy the enemies once and for all! This is what the scenario Operation: Yeonghon-ui Jam was meant for before it was used on Dr. Dudeoji! Mojibja watched the squirrel’s expression change to one of surprise, assuming that he was correct in who made the codes.
Moments later, comprehension of the comment forced Geumsaegi to cock an eyebrow. “Are you assuming that Aekku and I worked closely with each other? If you think that, you must not be a part of the main Weasel Unit, and certainly not one of the traitor units. Are you working for one of the Lords from Usuhan Jiyeog?” Anyone who was remotely familiar with the Weasel Unit should have known of the animosity between the Scout Commander and Commander Jogjebi, especially after the death of the former.
Which, in hindsight, could also explain how a scout could have infiltrated the command center. There were minute tells in all soldiers who had been trained as scouts, something he watched for in himself. But if the scouts had not been soldiers, and were civilians trained as scouts, then it would be less noticeable, especially if they did not hold military knowledge. And Nodongja had simply assumed that anyone could be picked up and made into a scout, regardless on if they had been a soldier, a notion he would have picked up outside of military service. Maybe the commanders need to check to see that some of the squirrels in the command center are not actually dormice.
The weasel waved his arm lazily. “There is no need to worry about what happened between the commanders after the disk was created and installed. There are many benefits to working with us, though. My Lord is very generous. You had to spend some time infiltrating Flower Hill before the war, didn’t you? I’m sure you may have found a few favorites you may want to keep as pets once we sort through the other surviving inhabitants. One of our sources suggests that you were very close to the leader of squirrel village at one point. What was his name? Geumbitdarami? If you actually liked him or want to repay him for protecting you, we can keep him alive. Otherwise, if you refuse, we might kill him first. Or last, depending on impact.”
“How do you kn-” Geumsaegi shut his mouth immediately after the momentary slip. That was too close of an assumption, even if his disguise was set up well enough that the enemy scout intelligence could not figure out that he and Geumbitdarami were one and the same. Too close!
But that could wait. At the moment, he needed to escape and sound an alarm. If the weasel had the disk, then he would be ready to leave, and likely take the squirrel with him for the codes he did not have. And Geumsaegi did not want to find out what would happen if the weasel’s commanders found out that he did not actually have the passwords. It was even possible that Mulmangcho and Oegwipali, if they knew the passwords for any of the sections, would simply give them up if prompted, especially if promised great rewards. And then everyone on his beloved hill would be in immediate danger. What exactly do these enemies intend to do with the survivors? Surely they won't be allowed to live peacefully, and surely the enemy will not stop with us! There will be no safety or peace if anyone gets a hold of the bombs!
“Oh? He really must have meant something for you to be looking at me like that…”
Once again in the cafeteria, the surviving group assembled around the table to plan their next move on catching the errant mouse scout who had played them for a fool.
“That is one scout we have uncovered. It should not be hard for my workers to sort out who does not belong. Even if he is an expert in disguise, someone must have seen something,” Nodongja mused, thinking back to the head of security’s informant. Surely, he had a network that would happily squeal on someone who killed their leader.
“So,” Jijilhagja grumbled, “That still leaves a weasel that has been doing all the killing, and whether or not they are connected to the mouse.”
“And where they both could be hiding!” The spotted hyena chimed in. “Although, they do appear to have different motives, so I doubt they are working or staying together.”
The driller and miner nodded seriously. With their jobs taking place in the dark, it would be harder to recognize someone who did not belong. it would not be difficult for the mouse scout to disguise as one of their underlings.
“…actually, there are three scouts that have infiltrated the base…” Boanjogjebi looked around, as if expecting a sudden attack.
Mulmangcho nodded, “yes, that would be obvious, alongside what exactly the scouts would be after, despite the different methods.”
Oegwipali looked at his brother, questioningly, almost exited to hear another deduction.
“Naturally, they are after the data on the An'obutaniumu, or anything else being worked on in the facility.” The group nodded as the mole spoke, stating the obvious piece of the puzzle.
“The question is, why now? With half the cameras nonfunctional, they could have snuck into the wing anytime since they were here for several months,” Yuji wondered.
“Usually, there is a receptionist that sits just inside the door on the laboratory wing. She was one of Geomsagwan’s sub informants, and would have reported anyone she did not recognize. Even during a power outage, where someone could try and hack the door, due to protocol she would still be there unless everyone was confined to their rooms. But even then, the data would be in the room of one of the scientists and researchers, who would die to protect it. There should be no way to steal the data in a situation like this without the researchers dying and the alarms going off. Unless, of course, there was a hacking device somewhere, that connected to all the computers somehow…” Boanjogjebi explained.
“It is possible that the Weasel Unit installed some sort of device that takes the data from the computer servers and stores it elsewhere. We suspect they may have installed a device like that in the facility during one of their visits, and indeed, I did find that the most important data is being siphoned off and stored in some separate account. I am not sure where exactly it is located, but I am sure someone who used to work for the Weasel Unit would know. Possibly one of your traitor groups, if they are being this desperate as to act in front of the Special Aide. The commander’s unit could have demanded a tour and just walked right in to retrieve the data.” Enjinieo clarified. His mole companion appeared uncomfortable. “But they would still need a way to access the research labs.”
“And that is where the third traitor comes in, and why they needed to wait until this day to make their move. If there is a separate disk, I am sure that it has already been removed as soon as they stole the keycard from the Special Aide.” Boanjogjebi was standing now, raising his gun to point at the crow.
“It was a good plan, Kkamagwi. Too bad your opponent attracted too much attention to himself.”
“What are you talking about? I have been at this facility for years!” the crow hissed, as the snickering, now free, mice brothers appeared behind him with shackles before he could react. His pager beeped.
“You had to gain our trust first. The easiest way to steal the data would be to use the keycard belonging to a high-ranking member of the Commander’s Unit. Even if it was logged as opening the door, and the receptionist saw them enter, no one would question what someone close to the commander would be doing, just as we were willing to accept the fake Special Aide’s explanation that he was ordered to assassinate members of our units. Your mouse friend simply disguised as the Special Aide, walked in, and stole the data while the real Special Aide was incapacitated.”
“And what real proof do you have of this?”
“…you forced the Special Aide to bathe in the recreation gym room showers, instead of using the quarantine pods to clean off the ants. If he was in quarantine, then the ants would be contained, instead of running loose around the base. Plus, these three” he gestured at the prisoners and their very annoyed guard, trying to reattach new handcuffs, “were allowed to clean up normally, despite also being covered in ants. You gave the Special Aide the keycard, and sent him down to the locker room for your partner to jump and replace without killing him. A shame he could not mimic the animosity. And also, that you also tried to cover up the crime by attempting a copycat murder as a way to get everyone together, to ‘reveal’ that the deaths were orders from central command we should go along with for our own safety.”
“It was fairly obvious,” the security guard continued, “a mouse or a weasel would not have left Sibjang and Seonjang to drown in the dumbwaiter. They would have known that we weasels are excellent swimmers, and would have easily swum out the entrance the moment the compartment was stalled by the splash. A crow might not know this, however.” The weasel pulled out his radio, turning the dial, “Did you find what I was looking for?”
“Yes boss!” Sibjang could be heard on the other end, with Seonjang muttering in the background about protocols. The cuts made by a surgical knife match the slashes on the rope exactly!”
“Good work. Make sure to bring the evidence with you.”
Oegwipali leaned forward, staring in awe at the larger weasel, “What, are you some type of big detective to be making these claims?”
“I was a detective. A good one, until I was drafted and forced to be a security guard here, possibly as a contingency plan for an event just such as this. A shame, really, I was getting used to the peaceful life here, and now I have to go about finding a new informant. I kind of liked working with that one…”
The crow doctor slumped in defeat.
“Where did you hide the disk?”
“We did not get to the disk, the weasel shooting into the cafeteria botched that plan,”
“It did appear as if he wanted to sneak away into the dark, but the weasel shooting at everyone spoiled his plot. The way the wires were cut, the power would have gone off at random, so the weasel’s plan would have been off as well, if not already completed by killing Gamdogja to prevent him from inputting his code to find the traitors quickly,” Mulmangcho nodded.
“It would be strange, though, to only steal a data disk. You would think that the Weasel Unit would put passcodes on such a device, so the only ones who could access it once removed are the ones who created it, and the higher-ranking members of the Command Unit. You would have to grab one of tho-” the mole cut himself off, as the group remembered the dormouse lying paralyzed in the medbay, with only the nurses for protection.
The lights began to flicker, as the crow doctor’s pager began to beep in earnest.
Cryopods had been designed in the past to preserve seriously wounded soldiers or terminally ill patients, holding them in stasis until a specialist doctor could have a look at them. At least, that had been the original plan for them. Self-sustaining as they were once activated, the amount of power it took to prepare it for use, to actually freeze the occupant, and to safety thaw the patient, meant that it was far too costly for regular use. Instead, much to the chagrin of the creators, cryopods were reserved for the fabulously wealthy, those with connections, or important leaders of armies and countries.
Geumsaegi had never seen one in the Weasel Unit, but he was not surprised to see a few in the Porasu Outpost, given the advanced technology that was already stored within the facility. There had been rumors in the past that Chaand Hadia and Chambelli Koh had some philanthropic interest in testing for alternate power supplies, as well, and thus had spent quite a bit of money to acquire some through barely legal means.
As interesting as it was to see, he did not quite fancy being shoved into one in some half thought out abduction plot, where he would likely be killed in the end for not actually knowing the codes for Aekku’s disk. Especially not when Mojibja had turned on the entire rack, instead of just one, suggesting that he was not fully competent in the area of that sort of technology, before leaning over to grab him.
The weasel flew backwards, caught off balance by Geumsaegi’s boot to the face, crashing loudly into a medical stand. The squirrel was met with a rebuttal of a jar of chloroform smashing over his head, liquid dripping towards his nose, making him momentarily dizzy and it mixed with the sedatives already in his system. But not dizzy enough to prevent him from sluggishly leaping forward, grabbing the collar of the weasel to pull him to the floor, aiming his fist towards the already injured nose. Surely, someone would have heard the noise by now? At the very least, the mice nurses were setting off alarms in the area where they were locked in, possibly using pagers to call for help. Even if the weasel managed to overpower him, there was still the matter of sneaking him out to wherever he needed to go, which could also be noticed. But he had to stall for time.
It was not long before the weasel threw him into a wall, shelf above managing to pin him down. Mojibja approached, calmly, self-assured as he wiped the blood from his nose.
The door to the medbay opened.
“Alright now, where is your special card?” Oegwipali sauntered in without his shackles, laughing. And then he stopped, hair raising, single ear pointing high, and then down, body slightly lowering in preparation to flee.
“Get out of here! Run!” Oegwipali was one of the few he could actually trust to run and tell that there was an intruder.
The weasel pounced first, grabbing the one eared mouse’s muzzle, silencing an attempt to pull an alarm on the wall. “I have seen the way you interact with his brother. Perhaps, I can use this one as leverage? I can imagine the brother’s reaction if I have you both, and he might be useful as well.”
But Mulmangcho would talk even without his brother being held hostage? Although, that would take his attention off of me, so I could use him as a distraction. The shelf was barely budging as the pod door sealed around the confused Oegwipali, forcing the mouse to drift off to sleep before freezing over in a strange crystalline substance.
The weasel turned towards the Special Aide. “And now you…” he reached forward, and then reached back as the snap of sharp teeth barely missed his fingers. The weasel frowned, shifting position.
The lights flashing, setting off an alarm as a second Special Aide barreled into the side of the weasel, stunning him. The imposter mouse stood, moving the shelf off of the disguised squirrel. “If you can get up, move and run!” he began to pull out another flashbang.
Once again, the doors flew open, multiple voice ringing out in surprise and anger. The weasel snarled, picking up the mouse by the collar. “I’ll come and grab you some other time!” He threw the mouse into the crowd, the group momentarily distracted by the reappearance of the false Special Aide. From his position on the floor, Geumsaegi would see the weasel picking up the in-use cryopod, angry and surprised shouts coming from the crowd as Mojibja bowled them over, Mulmangcho’s the loudest as he made to chase the weasel down the hall. More movement, and the group pounced on top of the easier target in their midst, blocking the bespectacled mouse’s path.
The distraction had worked, with Mojibja escaping with the data disk and a hibernating Oegwipali into the surrounding forests. The sound of a small car had clearly been heard through the broken branches on the other side of the gate hours ago, with no vehicle in the compound able to be mobilized fast enough to follow, the wolves too confused and out of the loop to chase down the car on all fours as they had trained. So much for all the effort that had been put into showing off in front of Geumsaegi when he had first arrived at the unit. Well, the lack of unity that occurred while the wolf commander was not watching could easily be used against them, he supposed.
A transport from the Weasel and Wolf Unit would be arriving soon. Despite the sky clearing up, the winds made it too dangerous for a helicopter to make its way in, especially since the Iron Crow Helicopters were too damaged from the storm to be moved out of the way, even if they had a pilot. Instead, half the trek would be made via land.
The drugs wearing off, Geumsaegi made sure to put the manacles back on a non-resisting Mulmangcho, the mouse still staring off into the woods with an unreadable expression. That was fine, he would be less of a problem if he was not fighting. Perhaps, separating the brothers, or threatening to separate them, was the key to making sure they did not cause as many problems. I can work with that. They deserve to be separated after what they tried to do to Bamsaegi and the others. For all the trouble he has caused for Flower Hill. An unknown faction held the key to the possible final defeat of the Weasel Unit, sure, but it could not be unlocked without Mulmangcho, if all went well. The cryopod would be self-sustaining, an easy way to keep the one eared mouse as an easy hostage without thawing him out, especially if he managed to get it to Flower Hill.
He barely glanced over as the foreman and captain weasels were pulled out of the lower levels, dripping wet yet otherwise unharmed, the detective turned security officer busy putting together evidence dockets to send with him. Something he would have to look over on the way back to the base.
The mouse and crow were less calm, shifting in nervousness, awaiting their fate but unable to slip their bonds.
The trucks arrived, surrounding the group that waited at the door, a large group of weasels emerging from one of the transports. Another truck moved, turning so that the back end faced them, this one a prison transport. The weasels lined up, saluting, as more weasels loaded the prisoners into the truck, fixing leg shackles to the bench inside. Geumsaegi and the mouse guard climbed in with them, to make sure that there would be no escapes.
Geumsaegi would be happy to never see the Porasu facility again, now that he had the information he needed. But how to get to it and use it was another question. If the crow and the mouse were working for Aekku, and later the Chief of Staff, then who was the weasel working for? There were many small kingdoms in Usuhan Jiyeog that would love to get their hands on the information in the disk. It would have to be one of the more powerful kingdoms, who had enough money and time to train scouts, but who? Did one kingdom really think they could take over the Weasel Unit on their own, or were there alliances being formed? How would such an event be used to destabilize the enemies?
I assume Mojibja will try and contact me later. He could be patient. Flower Hill probably already had information on the interactions between the weasel lords. All he needed was to check and see if they knew about the infiltrators in their own offices.
The trucks arrived, surrounding the group that waited at the door, a large group of weasels emerging from one of the transports. Another truck moved forward, turning so that the back end faced them, this one a prison transport. The weasels lined up, saluting.
“Sirs?” the guards, confused, stared at the second group, and then moved aside to let the wolves finally leave. It made sense that the prison truck would be one of the few large enough to carry so many of the larger, rambunctious animals.
“Where are the prisoners and the Special Aide?” the leading weasel asked.
Commander Huinjogjebi and Commander Seungnyangi looked at the messenger in horror, then glanced at each other across the table. Both hunched low and frozen, staring back and forth. Finally, Commander Huinjogjebi spoke, voice breaking and threatening to choke.
“What do you mean, the Special Aide has been kidnapped?”
Notes:
Finally, we will be able to get back to focusing on Geumsaegi!
In case anyone was wondering, yes, I did throw in a lot of Among Us references. Which is funny, because the entire story arc was inspired by Still Wakes the Deep, and was going to involve characters developing An'obutaniumu poisoning due to the storm, resulting in feral behavior and hallucinations of the past.
Some dialogue possibly inspired by that one chinamcclain Tiktok that kept going around on Tumblr awhile back. The one with the burglar yelling at the girl to lock her doors because strange people were roaming around her house.
Chapter 13: Spectacle
Summary:
As Mulmangcho awaits his fate, he begins to realize that there is something wrong with the convoy. The former Chief of Staff finds that his followers still have resignations about the rebellion that need to be quelled. Willing or not, the Special Aide is the perfect candidate to help them.
Notes:
Sorry for the wait, I was kind of sick again. I am also in the process of moving to another city to be closer to work. We have some new providers at work as well, so my workload has tripled (not that I mind the overtime). Things might ease up in June/July.
So this is one of the story arcs that I had planned from the beginning, when I was first thinking about writing the fanfic. I don't think it will be as dark or graphic as Lily Bell, but fair warning. Although, once we get through his story arc, we might be able to get back into an episodic feel for a bit.
Gyeongbiwon - Guard
Byeolag- Thundershock
Chapter Text
I hate being left in the dark so much… Mulmangcho grumbled to himself, ignoring the glances from the others as he occasionally hissed, slapping what was left of his tail on the bench. The other prisoners, appearing much less volatile, had been quietly permitted to move away from him. It had been at least a few hours of rocky terrain, his captors forbidding him to speak as he and his fellows kept their balance on the benches, when the irate mouse felt the transport truck turn sharply to the left, starting to move uphill. The new movement forced the hydraulics to constantly hiss as the vehicle bumped lightly up and down, annoying the mouse trying to remain deep in his thoughts.
Of all the individuals in the facility to grab, why would the infiltrating weasel have taken Oegwipali? Did he have some value to the other faction, or had the one eared mouse simply been the first individual to walk into the room?
He would be getting his brother back, of course, even if it meant destroying the Weasel Unit. The one eared mouse was HIS brother. The mouse belonged to HIM, making Mulmangcho responsible for his livelihood and well-being, as was the responsibility of the older brother. He had promised this to his family , and to himself. He would find the younger mouse, wherever he was. After the soldiers had separated the families in his home village, the younger mice he had been sent away with had become his best companions. And now, with Mulsajo gone, the younger, one eared mouse, was the only family alive he had left in his life, as far as anyone knew.
Thinking on it under the watching gaze of the guard and fucking Special Aide, it was clearly not a random grab out of desperation. If that were true, then his brother should only have been used as a short-term hostage in order to escape, on the assumption that he had value to the others. The set up and usage of the cryopod was a level of planning that suggested something far more sinister for the Weasel Unit, or even Flower Hill. Unconscious in a cryopod likely meant he would be kept alive as bait.
But who are they trying to bait? Me, or the Special Aide? Or someone else entirely?
Oegwipali was comfortable in the follower role, not the leader role. That much was clear whenever someone looked at his brother. Granted, the younger mouse could handle himself in marksmanship and combat, as well as make his own decisions, but most opponents and superiors had a tendency to overlook that, simply assuming that he was an idiot. It was usually everyone’s first impression, something that they had often used to their advantage in the past, alongside Mulsajo’s surprising adeptness in hand-to-hand combat. When the bespectacled mouse was not around, the two younger mice had made a formidable team. Still, the one eared mouse was not strong enough to be out on his own for a longer period of time without someone to trust.
Taking Oegwipali as a hostage could possibly be a trap for both himself and the Special Aide. Between the Toadstool bombs and their time in the Wolf Unit, trying to help the canines recognize the danger of the scout in their midst, Mulmangcho understood that at least a few rebellious groups had formed their own pacts to take control of the units. Although, this time, he was in the dark as to their motives and preferences, let alone the methods on how to safely find someone to introduce him to the leader. He highly doubted that it was the remains of one of the older groups that had been destroyed.
The Pact at Mt Rock had been part of one of the largest rebellion groups in the past, and the three mice had been close to the commanders of that assembly. Since the revolt had been blown open, that possibly made them an important target for newer rebellions that would either want someone who had experience in running a coup alongside covertly obtaining supplies, or to exterminate anyone from a failed coup as a rival or possibly snitch. Most of the weasels and mice he knew would have simply cornered him and asked that they join. He and his brother would then choose the most intelligent lot that was most likely to succeed in taking over the Unit, and then later, Flower Hill. Especially a group that would believe that the Special Aide was a scout from Flower Hill. As long as they treated him and his brother with enough respect, of course. It’s not like anyone would ever treat me the way Aekku and the others did. Instead of mutual respect, he might have to work with fear of authority with the incoming subordinates, later finding ways to gain their affection.
But the abduction had been too organized, despite the rush to leave. The infiltrating weasel had been too used to killing for his unknown master, holding himself back to take anyone alive. Not only did the weasel know about the cryopods, but he also had a proper escape route that had managed to survive the storm.
Mulmangcho turned to glare at the mouse that had disguised as Geumsaegi. Unmasked, he recognized Byeolag, a scout that had enthusiastically worked under Aekku, swearing his loyalty. He was quite well known for bringing enemy factions to a complete stop in rather a rather loud and flashy fashion. But why was he now working for the former Chief of Staff, as he had overheard? He certainly did not appear to be enthusiastic about the matter, despite the praises. Not that he would have blamed him for choosing a side, really. Mulmangcho himself had gone to the wolves for safety himself, since they were famous for routing out scouts. After all, while Huinjogjebi had been a close friend of Commander Jogjebi, their interactions with him at the Sturgeon Base would likely have the older weasel see them as a threat to be exterminated immediately, if they were not exonerated by a third party. And with the Investigation and Weasel Unit Anti-Espionage Units destroyed or possibly compromised, the wolves had been the best choice for them.
But as far as the Weasel Unit went, the Chief of Staff might have actually been far more intelligent than Huinjogjebi in determining friend from foe when faced with the accused traitors. Even if there was no place for a mouse in the leadership of that organization, even if the rebellion was led by higher ranking soldiers with very little actual experience, they at least would have gotten rid of the Special Aide, once and for all. If not because he was a scout, then because there was too much of a risk that the squirrel would reveal their plot to Huinjogjebi, as he had, all too fast. It might have been a good stepping point to raise up in the ranks, if they could figure out how to manipulate the weasels. They would need someone to do the smart thinking for them, perhaps, and they could be advisors given their experience with The Pact. It was too soon to tell.
Furthermore, a rebellion led by the more charismatic, higher ranking, soldiers, would be more likely to attract anyone looking to overthrow the current commanders for the good of the Weasel Unit, or at least for power. Which would probably lead to smaller factions getting absorbed in alliances, eventually becoming one in their efforts to destroy that blasted Hill.
The glasses wearing mouse knew, however, that the former Chief of Staff did not have any weasels like the one that had attacked, and would not have thought to use such technology to freeze a hostage for storage. No, that group was far too new to try anything so flashy, let alone have such an assassin hidden away in a foreign facility for months. They would have stuck to more straightforward smash and grab tactics, held a knife to Oegwipali’s throat, and lured him away. And the two would have happily given the weasel the information he wanted, since that would lead them to their own goals.
But any praise towards Byeolag’s thinking was tamped down by the infiltrator mouse’s rapid yawns, which turned into a light doze. What type of scout would just give up and sleep when captured? That is just sloppy. If they were going to try and make an attempt to escape captivity or execution, the transport truck was their best chance. Of course, knowing Tokgasi agents working under Aekku, he could also see Byeolag's idea that getting to the main Weasel Unit could be another part of his plan, and he was exactly where he wanted to be in order to pass on a message or two. Which was stupid and uninformed. Huinjogjebi would shoot the traitor on sight out of sheer foolish impulse, as he had other mice who had been perceived as getting in his way.
Grinding his teeth, Mulmangcho had considered that the mystery weasel was really an otter working for Flower Hill, or was planning to sell the mouse to Flower Hill for information. He could also see the Special Aide making that suggestion to the White Weasel Bastard that Flower Hill was attempting to stage a ‘rescue.’ The older mouse would be executed quickly, before he too was ‘rescued’ by the enemy.
The weasel was likely employed by a new group that he did not know about, which vexed him as much as he knew it excited the Special Aide.
For all he knew, the faction was aware that the Special Aide was a Scout from Flower Hill, and had taken Oegwipali because he knew too much for him to not be used as bait against the squirrel, and did not have time to inform him. But the cryopod had been overkill, so the happiest scenario was unlikely.
Still, it was likely that with the loss of one of the known traitors, he would be executed anyway. Which meant he needed to make his escape from the truck immediately. If he could incapacitate the Special Aide and the mouse guard, and the crow and the mouse scouts joined in, then the three of them could easily make their way out of the convoy and into the safety of the trees, burrowing out of sight before the wolves could chase after them. He was not sure about using the crow to carry both of them away. As a doctor, the crow was likely weaker than other crows used to being used as transport.
First step first. He could easily jump the Special Aide and wrap his throat in the chains shame I wouldn't be able to see any panicked expression from that angle, for usage as a living shield against the guard. Gyeongbiwon would not shoot his superior, and would easily be disarmed.
It was hard to inspect the chains, though, what with the Special Aide watching him so damned close, knowing good and well about how pissed off he would be over the loss of his brother. He glared as the Special Aide stifled a yawn, but did not let his guard down, as if he could sense the plan and was intent on not allowing him to escape again.
Fuck are you tired for? You were the one who was allowed to sleep.
But the hydraulics continued to hiss as the van turned, the incline increasing, exhaustion taking hold on all of them. The mouse frowned at the noises.
To top it all off, this van has not been properly cared for! So help me, if it breaks down in the middle of the road… he blinked, eyes heavy. Even a poorly maintained truck should not hiss as much, and most certainly not a prisoner transport. His eyes wandered to the grates under the benches near the doors, to the sleeping crow and mouse sitting closest to the vents, to the otherwise lack of ventilation, and to the standing Special Aide. His eyes narrowed as he glanced over
“Something isn’t right with these weasels. Pull out your gun, we need to get out of here.”
Geumsaegi faced him, fingering the holster, frowning. "Your tricks won't-"
A thump caught their attention.
“Oi… your Gyeongbiwon…” even the mouse guard had fallen asleep. Strange…His head felt thick with dull horror as he began to realize that it was too late to escape.
Spots dancing in front of his eyes, Mulmangcho watched as the Special Aide moved to bend over the unconscious guard. The traitor slumped over briefly, before rocketing to his feet with all the agility of a squirrel. He pawed at his gun, finally drawing it and aiming towards the small glass partition separating the prisoners from the drivers.
Loud bangs could be heard in the darkness as Mulmangcho’s sense of hearing faded.
But… who is…responsible for this?
“Fuck-SHIT, that surprised me. To think he would figure it out and start firing so soon. He almost got me!” the voice was accompanied by the wheezing laughter of the owner’s companions.
The sudden drop to the ground snapped Geumsaegi into partial awareness, albeit fuzzy, his eyes having trouble focusing. It was mildly uncomfortable, laying on his side. If he could have moved, he would have switched positions, or at least put his clothes back on. What was he doing in just his undershirt and underwear, anyway? Facing him lay Mulmangcho, eyes open yet unseeing, drooling slightly. Behind the mouse, he could see the crow doctor several feet way, splayed out as if he was simply tossed.
The sound of starting and humming trucks surrounded them, as figures in strong boots stomped into and out of his vision, not pausing as they accidentally stepped on the crow’s wing or tail as they moved.
He is not important to them. It was us they wanted. Somehow, the scene made sense, deep in his head. But, for the life of him, he could not put together what was happening.
“They might wake up in the fresh air. Get the tanks on them.” Geumsaegi watched uncomprehending as Mulmangcho’s eyes snapped into focus, blinking rapidly, only to dim as masks were placed over the muzzles of the two. For a brief moment, the two locked eyes. Mulmangcho’s expression turned to one of horror, and then resignation tinged with faint sense of plotting.
Hold your breath! You need to get up! Something inside Geumsaegi yelled, but he could not place the reason. It sounded like an order from his commanders.
As he was swung along down the long passageway, Geumsaegi recognized the make and model of the shackles hugging his wrists. Mulmangcho had captured him before, imprisoned him, meaning to take him away for interrogation before Juldarami had stealthily intervened. They had used the same type of shackles, back then. Which meant that he should be able to break them again and make an escape, if he hit the right area. At least, he would have tried if he could move, muscles aching and going numb in the cramped space.
Bird cages were often used to help with the rehabilitation of small avians if they had an injured leg or wing. A safe place where they could sleep, or practice jumping from perch to perch without worrying about being attacked by small snakes. This cage was far too small for the squirrel, preventing him from stretching out, especially with the links of the chains connecting his wrists being threaded between the spokes on the door. He could reach the latch, but it would be unwise to do so when his surroundings were unknown. Especially not when he was still groggy from the gas. He needed to know his where he was, first.
The cage was lowered to the ground in a larger room, his vision suggesting a larger crowd as his wrists were further secured. There are too many followers here for them all to be from the Command Base…
He had time. If they had gone out of their way to capture him, then it was unlikely that he would be killed immediately.
He had hope, and a possible plan. There was no reason to despair.
Instead, head drooping, he studied the shackles, noting the same apparent weak points in the handcuffs as the previous batch. A chain attached to the middle led out onto the floor. Attached to a ring? Will they leave me here?
No. as his vision cleared, he could see that the chain moved upwards, to a pulley system in the ceiling. His breath quickened as he understood his fate, coming to terms with it. It was still the Chief of Staff’s folly to let him see what was to happen, allowing him to steel his resolve and prepare himself. He could endure this.
Suspended to the ceiling by his wrists? A show for the weasels appearing in his clearing vision, some of which held whips or sticks. A public display, then. But why did they look so nervous, as if unsure of their own plans? Granted, he had a reputation for hunting down traitors and having them executed. So, they may have the advantage in numbers, but they were not ready to make their move when I revealed them to Huinjogjebi, which puts them on the back foot. The Chief of Staff does not have their full confidence that they can defeat the new commander. Good to know. Once Huinjogjebi comes, they may be easy to rout, and may make him further suspicious of his own loyalists, since there have to be a few pretenders who helped the traitors escape.
One of the closest weasels kicked the cage, the jolt making him aware of the pins and needles in his bent legs and body. Like a mouse, he hissed in response. Some of the mice and weasels in the room drew back from the promised threat.
Finally, the Chief of Staff, sitting above the rest of the rabble, spoke. “Good morning, Special Aide! Did you have a nice rest?”
“Got more beauty sleep then you have had in a while, apparently.” Fully returning to his senses as the drugs wore off, he could see the bedraggled condition the former Chief of Staff was in, could see where the medical tape and EKG electrodes had ruined and messed with the fur. He had to be removed from the cage if he was going to break the shackles.
How many hours has it been? Does Flower Hill know where I am? Do they or the Weasel Unit know what has happened by now? He could almost kick himself at the folly of not even bothering to check that the transport had actually been sent by Commanders Huinjogjebi and Seungnyangi. Especially when so many infiltrators had been around.
Another round of false pleasantries. “Well, it certainly is nice of you to join us here. I do hope you will stay for a while?”
“I greatly thank you for the accommodations, but I must return to my commanders at once and inform them of your survival. Forgive me for not saluting, and for not being able to provide a greeting bouquet.” Half a thinly veiled threat. His slow awakening had ruined any chance of pretending to be angry, any attempt now possibly appearing unnatural, ruining his ploys. Best to play the slightly annoyed, but otherwise unbothered, card.
“Oh, but I do insist you stay. I have so many companions who wish to make your acquaintance.”
“And such a friendly bunch they are! I surmise that some of them are not soldiers from the base, but your farm servants from back home? Have they been trained properly for this excursion?”
The weasel flushed in anger, revealing to Geumsaegi had properly guessed about the extra members of the rebellion. Huinjogjebi's purge had forced the traitors to fill their ranks with noncombatants, in order to make the size of the ranks more attractive to newcomers who entered the area. Likely, more of the soldier groups were needed elsewhere, perhaps back at the commander's base. Nonetheless, he was content in his superior position. “You do understand your station, do you not? Or are you still a little confused from your nap? You see, my comrades and I had a foolproof plan to set the Weasel Unit on the right path. Foolproof until you came along, that is. We need to thank you for the humiliation at the Officer's club.”
“It was the least I could give you, after you decided to talk about betraying out great leader in public! Speaking of betrayal, I suppose you have retrieved your own scouts from the Porasu facility? I have heard that they use to work for Aekku, so it is a wonder that they would turn around and work for you out of nowhere. Very fickle loyalty, these Mount Rock Rebels.” I need to confirm something.
“It did take a while, but I was able to get inside Byeolag and the crow’s brains and inject some sense of reason into them to work for me. The same reasoning that will be shown to you, once you have given us what we need to know.”
So, he will have use for me if confess and tell the truth. They need me alive. I have a chance. Good. But what information would they want to know? Is it about Flower Hill? I would have to make something up about the data disk and hope they fall for it if they ask about that.
The weasel’s eyes glittered, as if he expected Geumsaegi to not understand his predicament. As if he expected the Special Aide to only now look around, notice the location of the chains, notice the tools the others held, and become afraid, begging for his life. Instead, he stared back stoically, prepared. Around the room, weasels and mice appeared alarmed at the lack of fear.
The commanding weasel could not wait any longer, not without the silence becoming awkward. The former Chief of Staff gestured towards the ceiling, weasels closest to him brandishing whips and giggling. “Allow me to help you to rise to your feet. Surely, you would like to stretch after your journey?”
Geumsaegi broke through the intimidation once again. “Yes, that would be most helpful, I suppose. It would be improper form to still be lounging around when Huinjogjebi returns to ask why I have not reported in.”
“That crippled old fool! He and his incompetent followers will not be able to save you from me. That idiot will stagger around like the brain damaged idiot he is, and fail as he should have long ago. You are mine, now!”
Once the top of the cage lifted, Geumsaegi tested the strength of the pulley, finding it steadfastly bolted into the sturdy rafters. It would not break so easily, not like the handcuffs if he could get them near something hard enough. His best chance would be once they were done with him, when they let him back to the ground. Assuming, of course, he could still move.
He wouldn’t mind if they left him suspended for the night, though, as he was. Arms stretched above his head, feet slightly touching the ground…he could easily use his agility to twist around and climb up the chain to unhook himself. Even if they tied his feet, ankle restraints were easier to work with. It was the coming beating that would be the challenge. The commanders had told him of what would happen if he was ever caught by the enemy, had tried to prepare him. All the scouts knew what they would have to endure for Flower Hill in such a situation, not that they would ever wish for it.
This is bad. This should not be happening. A moment of fear corrected itself. Don’t think like that!
He did not react to the sharp bite between his shoulder blades, not registering the snapping sound as a whip until it occurred again, a little bit lower.
There was not any point in holding anything back, either in his voice or his movements. Geumsaegi knew that, eventually, they would force him to scream or even cry. But these weasels were not skilled at interrogation, most not familiar with the weapons they were holding. He did not mean to stay as silent as he was, merely gasping, even if he wanted to pretend to give them anything of a show.
And a show it was supposed to be. Huinjogjebi had captured and executed quite a few members of the rebellion after the incident in the officer’s club, which likely scared the remaining troops who managed to escape. But this would boost their morale, or at least tie them all in together. Capture a high-ranking member of the enemy, let the rabble beat him with their own hands to remove their fear of the previous administration. A fairly understandable tactic that would help them to blow off steam, prevent faltering of their movement by creating a sense of comradery. After all, even if they simply stood there out of fear of their own execution if they spoke up, they were all guilty, now. No way out, no way to escape unless they saw it until the end.
He had noticed from the start that many of the weasels in the room held the make of conscripted farmers, likely overseers on the farm. The mice had blanched as the larger creatures had brandished the whips, but in a secret, worried way as they caught each other’s eyes. It was only natural that the weasels had snapped whips at the worker mice in their daily lives, merely the threat of a lashing scaring the laboring mice into working harder or turning on comrades that thought of running away. But the way they snapped their wrists decreased the power of the whips and switches, improper arm movements quickly tiring them out as his own strength waned. Winded, they backed off one by one, mood in the room lowering. Geumsaegi caught the glance of a mouse in the crowd, who quickly looked away in embarrassment. Clearly, the mice had been acting out a greater range of suffering and begging than what had been necessary to save themselves some pain. As long as they did not say anything, Geumsaegi was content to keep their secrets.
It did not lessen the pain of the situation.
One of the first weasels to attack had had the right idea, attempting to use a switch on his calves. One blow, a pause, and then another in the same area, when the pain of the blow should have been at its peak. Unfortunately for the weasel, but fortunately for the scout, his legs were still far too numb and tingling from the previous cramped position for the new pain to properly register. For an actual attempt at torture, their techniques were lackluster.
I need to escape and get out of here before it is too late!
The former Chief of Staff was exuberant. He had his enemy, the one who had caused so many inconveniences for him. Rumors had spread quickly that the Mouse had either been part of the Anti-Espionage Unit, or the Investigation Unit, two groups of the Weasel Army that had struck deep fear into the hearts of many weasels, mice, and crows. The Special Aide, with his abilities to track down and destroy rebellions had been bad enough, but what if he was actually part of a group all along? Such worries were quickly dispelled given that their own inquiries had revealed that the two units had been gutted by attacks from Flower Hill, as well as Aekku’s rival Scouting Unit, rendering the Special Aide with very little backup, if any at all.
And with the Special Aide soon to be out of the way, his infiltrators into the Weasel Unit command should have no problems in turning Huinjogjebi’s loyalists to his side, or even killing enough of them off to spread discontentment with the rival’s leadership. A rash of murders, bodies left out in the open, and mild food poisoning would work wonders in lowering Huinjogjebi’s reputation on controlling the Unit, or cause a fight between the Weasels and Wolves. Soon, control over the Weasel Unit would be his.
Of course, he needed some very important information, data that would allow him to prepare to complete the final blow on Huinjogjebi, as well as driving away those blasted wolves. That would come later, once the Special Aide was handed over to the actual interrogator. The Special Aide’s reputation had preceded him, with many in his ranks constantly panicking over the mouse’s ability to sniff out traitors such as themselves. The other must have been trained well, to have no fear of the superior weasels, trained enough to hold his own in a fight.
Here, in this room, he could have the weasels and mice take out their frustrations, lose their fear of the smaller, inferior creature. Even the security guard, a weasel that had fallen in with them accidentally, had grown excited, tilting his glasses up and down while whispering excitedly to himself.
Quiet as he was, with only short gasps and cries, twitching when a fresh weasel with a stronger arm was brought in, the Special Aide was being worn down. It would have been a better show if they had fully removed his clothing, the barrier protecting from cuts, but he was still needed for later. Perhaps, this would be enough to scare him into giving up the information they all needed. He was only a mouse, after all. Naturally, an individual of his caliber would have trained for interrogation, so the current predicament should not hurt as much as anticipated, which would increase a sense of stress and irritation, leading to despair and a desire for it all to end. Granted, they could not suspend him too far up, allowing him to stand on the balls of his feet, or else they would risk dislocating his wrists and shoulders, the weasels warned to avoid the ribs to avoid internal damage. That would come later. But still, he was only a mouse. Only one mouse, and all alone. Already, the Special Aide was desperately shifting his feet, shaking his hands, stretched calves and wrists clearly aching and growing more painful by the minute, as he tried to relieve pressure by gripping the chain above his head. It was almost time to switch tactics. Someone just needed to perform an actual impressive blow…
A low bark of laughter cut through the air. The crowd drew back as the Special Aide slumped in his chains, head hanging forward for a moment, breath rasping. The damned mouse turned, eyes shining, breath hitching in his throat as the laughter was impeded by his stretched-out position. “Are you trying to call this an interrogation? I have had partners in the bedroom who were more skilled with whips than this.” The weasels in the room slowed, drawing back again, humiliated by the insinuation. Only the Chief of Staff, starting directly at the Special Aide, could see that the mouse was reaching his limit on what he could handle with his dignity intact.
“Oh, you will be needing a bed once we are done with you!” the weasel snarled reflexively. Fuck. Now the others might think there is something else going on. Several weasels turned to give him a side eye, and then turned back to the awkward spectacle in front of them.
Finally, he moved from his chair, approaching the mouse. His guards twisted the yellow figure until he was facing the approaching weasel, eyes full of defiance. Any words the Special Aide was going to say was cut off by the Chief of Staff’s fist burying itself into the mouse’s stomach, eliciting a pained gasp. Another punch, a third, continuing until the bound figure could barely gasp. Tiring, a slap to the face.
Winded, his own insides starting to hurt, the weasel stepped back as his aides pulled him back. “Mice cannot vomit. We do not have to worry about that type of cleanup.”
“Sir, you need to calm down,” the former Chief of Staff whirled on the supposed traitor as the air in the room stirred in horror, only for it to become stifling as the medic stood steadfast, staring at his patient in annoyance.
“Hand me a club.” A forced order, meant to take back control of the situation. He waved his hand as one was procured. “Lower Him.”
Stunned from the repeated blows, Geumsaegi was quickly aware of his knees hitting the ground, wrists following, enough slack to allow him to shift his legs to allow his feet into a position that would allow him to pounce. This should be my chance! If the previous set of shackles had broken open over a cushioned car seat, then this pair should snap over the head or shoulders of the Chief of Staff, and allow him to shock the crowd to make his escape, as well. Maybe even take him as a hostage, depending on the closest weapon he could grab.
The club would be too unwieldy for me… So just run, like in the caves? But there would be no Scout Gosuemdochi to lead him to safety. If it worked, he would have to be fast.
The Chief of Staff began to move towards the crouched form, his breathing rising in excitement. Finally, he would give the damn lapdog what he deserved, even if he had to do what the other fools in the room could not. He would see the mouse writhe on the floor and cry for his life.
Instead, a firm blow smashed into his nose, forcing his head to snap back, dropping slightly. A blow to the top of his head, another, and then another to his shoulder. An angry, frustrated snarl, and stronger blows smashed into his face and muzzle before he could react.
The chains! He’s wrapped them around his hands like brass knuckles!
In the distance, he could hear a few of the mice begin to snicker, a few weasels give off a soft sigh, as if they had watched a pathetic display that was not worth their time. No!
He had to regain control, he had to stand back up- instead he fell completely backwards, flailing as he landed flat on his back, stretching his body.
“Sir!” the medic was panicked, dithering, and then running off to find the other medics, knowing what was to come.
Another instant, and the chains had been raised into the air again, forcing the Special Aide back and away, snarling in a rage as the handcuffs refused to break, consciousness quickly fading as an anesthetic soaked rag was smashed across his face.
Whispers began to fill the room once more. As the Chief of Staff coughed, tasting blood. In a rage, he found the club, raining solid blows upon his hated enemy, finally forcing the body to twist under the force, shouts of anger turning into grunts of pain. Finally. He could taste the blood.
And then, he began to cough, spasms wrecking his own body as his internal injuries once again opened up from the beating, the medics returning to assist in keeping him alive once more. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, some from the fists of the being on the ground in front of him, some from deeper within, injuries that needed to be treated immediately or cost his life. But he could not let himself show weakness here, not in front of the others, that were already having doubts.
“A good show! But I believe it is my turn to take him and do the job properly!” The interrogator weasel, approached, as had been planned.
The Chief of Staff spat out a wad of blood as the medics pulled him to his feet, at least to give him some dignity as they left the room. “You know what to get out of him, of course, Jinmon. That information it vital for us to take our rightful place as rulers!”
“Of course, sir,”
Chapter 14: Recruitment Offer
Summary:
Finally, the Chief of Staff’s plans become clear to Geumsaegi, as he is offered what the weasels think is a very generous recruitment package.
Notes:
There are more translated Korean Swears and insults in this chapter.
Also this gets reminiscent of Lily Bell a bit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The weasel’s name was Jinmon. Interrogation. Geumsaegi had expected someone like him, of course. Despite the previous exhibition, any proper rebellion would need to have experienced individuals who could force cooperation through actual pain without killing the target. If not turn the victim, then at least to extract the paperwork, important locations, and codes that would be required for whatever coup had been planned. The former Chief of Staff mentioning the need to ‘convince’ Byeolag to ‘see reason’ into working for them saved the squirrel the indignity of having to ask what they were planning to do with him in order to confirm their intentions. Not that it helped him plan anything, though.
There were quite a few interrogators in the Weasel Unit alone. Once it had been discovered that Flower Hill would not fall so easily as the weasels originally thought, the Weasel Unit had hired quite a few individuals skilled in obtaining information and cooperation from unwilling individuals. Naturally, on the side, any rebellion would need to get a hold of at least one of them, mostly fickle individuals as they were. However, their names and locations were usually kept a secret, to prevent Flower Hill from targeting them, or from complications during prisoner exchanges. Some were unfalteringly loyal to specific commanders and areas, while most were professionals in which torture was simply a job, keeping themselves in check even if they gained some sort of satisfaction. Some interrogators, however, enjoyed themselves, going far beyond what was needed to gain the information which became a secondary factor for them over sating their own sadistic desires. It was the third group that was most likely to show up working for a rebellion.
Being handed over to an interrogator was not something Geumsaegi wanted to experience. While the scouts had known from the beginning that capture and torture could be a possible ending or setback, he simply could not allow for such a thing to interfere with his tasks. It had been part of the reason the disguised squirrel had grabbed a gun and fled as soon as the opportunity arose after his abduction to Wolf Spider Cave, despite not even knowing the direction of the exits. His captors knew he was a Flower Hill scout, thanks to Mulmangcho, and he doubted that they would simply let him go after assassinating General Commander Jogjebi. Instead of waiting to see who they had on their side, Geumsaegi had run desperately into the cave system with limited ammunition, his dear Scout Goseumdochi having to come to his rescue to show him the escape route.
It had also been why he risked a lonesome death on the road before, breaking his shackles in order to attack Mulmangcho before he could be delivered to the secondary location, later. If the shackles had not broken, he could have risked a jump off of the steep cliffs. Juldarami had known of his plan, further restraining him with rope in the vehicle in order to force a confrontation.
Well, Geumsaegi supposed hoping that one pair of shackles would explode like another, faulty pair, had, would have been far too much to ask of the world. In hindsight, it was possible that they had purposefully been weakened beforehand, depending on how long his brave Juldarami had been infiltrating the area pretending to be a regular mouse. He had noticed the weaker chains back then, but his desire to ask had been washed away by the shock of seeing Mulmangcho melt away into the presence of his dear comrade. A sign to start his mission up again in earnest. Nonetheless, he had not been lying when he had thrown himself into the arms of the other squirrel, half sobbing about how terrified he had been.
The dip between his shoulders ached slightly from a particularly strong blow, other bruises and light cuts littering his body throbbing, threatening to burn. His position, strapped down on a table with his wrists shackled next to his head, fingers brushing his ears, tail clamped down, threatened to be rather uncomfortable in the future if he could not shift himself. But perhaps, allowing portions of his back to cramp up in knots was part of the torture. Palms facing towards the ceiling, he was unable to reach his claws around to even try and cut through anything, or even reach a latch if there was one. The blindfold was the most annoying part. Partially transparent, he could still perceive shadows around and above him, although still solid enough to not allow him to see the figures entirely. Purposefully meant to confuse him, force out feelings of anxiety and fear. Succeeding in its mission as he struggled to swallow his own saliva, heart pounding in his wounds as if they were about to burst. A sickening pressure began to build between his eyes, threatening to turn into nausea, that as a rodent he would be unable to dispel in a normal way.
I can’t let this happen! I have to get away!
And then, he breathed, practiced in calming himself.
I have no right to be this scared! If Bamsaegi could handle interrogation, then so can I! The reminder of his little brother, and his partner Mulori, being whipped and beaten into unconsciousness inside Huinjogjebi’s lair made his blood boil, cutting through his haze. If he could not get through this, then such injustice might happen to everyone on Flower Hill!
And why was he scared in the first place? Geumsaegi had trained for this, after all. He had been lucky to escape the other times, lucky to have kept his cover for so long, but his luck had to run out at some point.
It was merely the start of the interrogation that was making him nervous, he surmised. He had to prepare himself for what was to come, prepare answers and deflections based on the skills of the interrogator. What will he ask me? Does he or the Chief of Staff know I am from Flower Hill, or will he want to know about the codes for the Weasel Unit, or even the data disk? He still did not know. It certainly was not a ransom situation, after all. But if they took all this effort to abduct and parade him around like they had in the first place, they would not want to kill him so easily, even after they were done with humiliating him. The Chief of Staff’s rebellion was newer, after all, with no connection to the leaders of The Pact that had known he was a scout. Mulmangcho, however, was a problem if the mouse managed to get them to listen. But, given that he had not been present during the earlier event, and had actually tried to warn him when the gas filled the transport truck, it could be surmised that his enemy was not part of what was about to happen. It was doubtful that they even suspected his connection with his homeland.
But where is Mulmangcho? A vague afterthought that was not as important as the present circumstances.
Eventually, he could make out the sounds a figure moving around them, growing closer and closer, stalking him, until finally coming to rest in a creaking chair near his head. A voice cut through, almost friendly in greeting if it was not for the undertones of the situation.
“Now, Special Aide. I am sure you are wondering why I have you strapped down like this. Well, you see, you refuse to work with our competent leader, and cling to an incompetent cripple who kills valuable subordinates on a whim. Beforehand, you also worked with Commander Jogjebi, who clearly had brain damage from a blow to the head, and was not fit to make decisions. You must have lost your own mind for you to not come to our side, with competent leaders. And this is how we treat individuals who clearly have psychosis.”
Geumsaegi could not help but snort. “Bullshit! Can you drop that claim? We both know you want some information from me, and we both know how you are going to try and get it. Not to mention, Commander Jogjebi explained that Geomeunjogjebi strapped him down in a similar manner, and claimed he had psychosis for defying them. Quite a strange and awkward way to begin, would you not think? Could you not just cut that out and begin with normal threats?” Geumsaegi expected a blow to his face in retaliation for his mouth. Instead, he was confused to hear an annoyed bark, and the sound of the chair scraping across the floor. It was the second sound of a box, possibly filled with instruments, that made his blood run cold, forcing him to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady.
The familiar sound of clanking and beep of an IV pole gave him a faint hope. If there was an IV pole, they would be providing fluids. So, no matter what the weasel did to him, he would be kept alive for rescue. Which was sure to be quick, given how the Wolf and Weasel Units knew what information he held, let alone Flower Hill. His comrades would surely rush to his rescue one they learned of his capture. He just had to endure a day or two until then. For a moment, his heart rate picked up. Surely, he would get to see his countrymen soon!
The weasel sighed. Geumsaegi felt the presence grow nearer, elbows resting on the table as he leaned over him.
“Why do you follow the crippled old weasel? Do you not find his incompetence insulting?” He was starting. Time to learn what type of responses leads to what kind of punishments…
“What do you mean, incompetence? My commander trusts Huinjogjebi to run the Weasel Unit in his stead perfectly! He has done a fantastic job as leader so far, routing out traitors like you and uniting with the recalcitrant Wolf Unit.” He would not mention that it took old weasel offering almost all of his available bargaining chips to get the wolves to take even a nibble of the bait.
“Such misplaced confidence…do you expect Huinjogjebi to hold as much loyalty to you, as you do to him? He values the intel you hold more than your company.”
“And your commanders would not?”
Jinmon was silent for a moment, and then spoke, voice softer. “Do not expect any commander to hold the same love for you as your General Commander Jogjebi. I suppose, if anything, we are more like the Mount Rock rebels after Aekku’s death, in our goals.”
“Oh?” Genuine confusion, as well as suspicion.
“Part of the reason we have you here is because, with your experience, it is likely that you could have sniffed out all the infiltrators we have placed within the Command Unit. It would not be any good if it was discovered that many of the new recruits were actually working for us. Although, turning the loyalists will take a lot of time. It is best that we speed up our conquest of the area.”
“And why are you telling me about the rebel infiltrators now? Would that not give me the advantage in looking for anyone suspicious once I return?” A pause. “Are you telling me this, so I would look at the mice and weasels, and not notice any scouts from Flower Hill? Are you working with them as allies?” Do they know of the rumors of me being a squirrel from Flower Hill? If I say it like this, he might reveal that he knows what I really am!
The weasel laughed. “Of course we are not with those weaklings! Flower Hill will be ours, soon enough though. The offer still stands for you to keep a few as your own, of course, once you join us. As far as friends go though, it would be more accurate to say that we wish to be friends with the fish and whales, who may lead us to where we need to take the plunge into the future.”
Geumsaegi made his realization, hiding his returning rage over the implication of him being ‘allowed’ to keep Flower Hill residents to himself, “You wish to acquire intact Sturgeon robots to take over the Commanders? But those have been destroyed at the bottom of the ocean!”
A pause, as Jinmon clearly had not expected the Special Aide to make such a connection, nor figure out such a plan so far ahead of time.
“What that old fool does not know is this; Aekku’s had other scouts under his command that did not go to Flower Hill. The Mount Rock rebels had a few scouts within the Sturgeon base that were able to program the robots to hide inside of waterproof shelters should the base become compromised, just in case they needed to sink the base themselves and come back for the weapons later. There were plenty of departments that could become sealed off and water tight in event of an emergency. Do you not see? It is a good plan, albeit one that still requires the use of Commander Jogjebi’s key, one that we still need.”
“The one he wore around his neck? But what does that have to do with me?”
“Because you are the only one other than Commander Huinjogjebi who knows the location of the safe in which the necklace is kept, as well as the codes to enter the safe. We can do this slowly, or we can do this quickly, and then move on to changing your opinion of the Chief of Staff, so that you may share in his glory.”
“Are you all on some sort of drug? I would never betray my dear commanders that easily!” They don’t know anything about the third scout thinking I had a part in the data disk. They don’t know anything about me being connected to Flower Hill? Good to know. Commander Jogjebi had always prevented those sorts of rumors from getting out, as it had encouraged dissent.
Geumsaegi was forced to yelp as a sharp pain jolted up his leg, delivered by a thinner switch than what was used in the previous room. Another oxygen mask was fit over his muzzle, tight enough to create a seal, but thankfully large enough to pose no danger to his disguise. Oh, what are they doing with this thing? The oxygen he could feel brushing against his nose suggested that the flow could be turned off at any moment, suffocating him. Something next to him clicked, and the oxygen flow was noticeably decreased, forcing Geumsaegi to take larger, less productive breaths. He means to make me panicked and dizzy…Well, it was not as if hypoxia and asphyxiation could not be used to mentally escape other pain, if need be. But first, he had to control his own breathing, fingers clenching, increasing heart-rate betraying how much he would really rather not go through this…
But he would, for the sake of his dear hometown. If he could glean information from the interrogator about the might and forces of the Chief of Staff’s rebellion, then it could be useful information to Flower Hill. Information that could mean life or death. He could end it by giving away the actual information for the location and codes to access they jewel necklace damn that fucking thing! It has caused us all so much trouble! I should have just smashed it when I had the chance! but it would be foolhardy to think it would even be believed that he would willingly give it away immediately.
“You should really think about what you are doing. If you returned to Commander Huinjogjebi, you would be richly rewarded. I won’t make this an easy fight, you know.”
“It won’t be a fight at all, as soon as I am done. You won’t be able to participate.” When did he get to the other side of the room? The blindfold was not doing him any favors in determining what shape was what.
Another click, and Geumsaegi was wise enough to hold his breath as the oxygen was shut off.
The footsteps approached again, and then paused. The chair scraped across the ground as Geumsaegi listened closely. Rough rock. Are we inside a cave system? Or is this place a stone fortress, and this floor had not been smoothed over yet? If he could figure out the type of structure, he could better formulate a plan for escape. The dark, windowless room where he had met the Chief of Staff had not given him enough clues. There was not much of a point in smoothing the floors and walls of prisons, after all.
The squirrel's lungs burned, body screaming at him to take a breath for oxygen that was not there. He had to hold it. Surely, Jinmon would turn it back on once he returned from walking across the room? His chest gave out, exhaling, instinctively taking another breath and finding nothing there and a different type of aching and burning, pressure in his head building up, forcing his limbs to strain against the restraints, fadingfadingfading falling...
Another click, and the oxygen was back on, forcing him to go limp. That... was not so bad... For a moment, he contemplated on the difference between the burning of nothing there, and the stronger agony of having foreign water in the lungs blocking and entering pathways that only oxygen should touch.
His relief was interrupted by soft, snapping clicks next to his ear, the sound of small metal pieces hitting each other. The weasel laughed at the ear twitch. “Well, I do have to make sure they work properly, don’t I?”
Geumsaegi shuddered as the pliers moved to exactly where he thought they would go, inwardly seething as he sensed the delight rolling off of the weasel. Disgusting barbaric savage! Dirty bastard like all the rest of the occupiers!
He understood why his hands had been restrained so close to his head. Forcing the prisoner to sit upright while the interrogator went at them with pliers was standard, but lying down with his fingers semi free, so close to his head? He could hear the creak and snap of his own nail, so very slight. The pressure of the pliers gently pulling contrasted disgustingly with the weasel petting the top of his head, heightening his senses. Only a comrade should be allowed to touch me like that! How dare he! Without any nails, it would be very difficult to escape. He would not be able to get a purchase on objects, pick up anything properly, climb, or even open some doors. Just run away! Don’t worry about fighting! I have to get up and run away as fast as I can! The nail was threatening to give, pulling away from its bed, and Geumsaegi could sense the weasel tensing his grip, planning to give one final twist…and then he was filled with a sense of calm, despite the near gasping, sweat threatening to bead up on his forehead.
“What type of moron are you? This is exactly what the Chief of Staff would not want.” The squirrel laughed, long and hard, a sense of relief understandable only to him, deep down threatening to slip into hysteria if he was not careful. Finally, he gathered himself, and spoke.
“You said it, and your traitor commander said it. If you manage to get the codes from me, you will still require my services and abilities as the Guard Commander, envoy, and Special Aide afterwards. I would not be able to do anything with my nails ripped out.”
The pliers pulled away, but then returned, twisting harder, catching the flesh around the nail hard enough to bruise. “You would have plenty of mice under you- weasels too. Some of them could be assigned to lift or file anything you needed. I could even do this as many times as needed, you know? Given your reputation, it is obvious that you won’t break so easily, so I may get the pleasure to rip out your nails several times if they grow back quickly enough.”
I guess giving away the information quickly would have been a trap after all. He wants to hurt me. I’ll have to let him. Geumsaegi ignored the part of him telling him to run away, even though it would be ineffective to even think about it. “If I want the other mice, or even the weasels, to listen to me, I cannot appear every day with no claws or nails. They will have no respect or fear of me if I require assistance in doing the smallest tasks. It would even make the Chief of Staff look bad for having an invalid in a higher position and open the door for other schisms in the rebellion.”
The pliers pulled away, as if slinking away in defeat. Geumsaegi dared to breath, fingers and toes tingling in the mix of fright and excitement. And then a scream, caught unawares as the switch smashed down on the top of his calves, hitting bone more than muscle. He gasped, and the oxygen flow snapped off. Geumsaegi steadied himself, holding what remained of his breath as the weasel gripped an ear, raising him up.
“You know, everyone forgets this area during punishment.” Another few strikes, a quick burst of oxygen that was only partially grasped. “There are quite a lot of nerves around the bone that everyone seems to ignore. You would limp, but not in a way that the other mice would expect.” He laid the golden head back down gently as Geumsaegi sucked in the returning air, coughing faint hints of spittle as he attempted to breathe through the lingering, burning pain.
“Well, I suppose you mice do need to trim these…” for a moment, the mask was removed, rod slipping in between the teeth in the open mouth, pliers bearing down. “They would grow back, quickly.”
Jinmon salivated as the mouse beneath him flinched, smelled the salt pricking at the corners of the eyes being wicked up by the blindfold. The tooth creaked, soon to splinter as a tongue reached up to meet the warming metal of the pliers, jerking away as it tasted the sanitizing disinfectant, stopitstopitstopit only to return and push harder. He waited as the head jerked as much as it could, trying to throw him off, only for it to pause again, releasing another bark of laughter, albeit weaker than the last. But still, he knew. He had messed up in his methods again, somehow. Reluctantly, he pulled the pliers away again, belatedly noticing the trail of blood from a slice on his wrist where the Special Aide had succeeded in raking a claw.
“Do you know the proper place to crack the teeth so that they grow back properly? Tooth infections would be even more dangerous than losing the nails. While the teeth do need to be whittled down, it must happen naturally or else you get an infected root that then spreads to the brain.”
Jinmon set the pliers down. He had expected to be able to use his favorite methods in this interrogation, only for his prey to rebuke him. But it did not matter. If he could not attain the information in the way he wanted, then he would just have to brute force it.
Well, he always did enjoy seeing a victim squirm while their lungs burned alongside the lash of the switch, overloading the brain until it felt as if it was burning. A few sessions of that, and his Special Aide should be putty in their hands as his defenses were removed.
The winter disease, baireoseu, had been harsh that year, lasting long into spring. Even for the adults, it had been difficult, leaving them bedridden for days. For young Bamsaegi, however, it had been the worst experience of his young life. He had refused to move or speak, staring off into the distance, refusing to even try to take in any of the nourishment the disease would not let him consume anyway.
Geumsaegi kicked himself for opening up the village again so soon, allowing at least one unknowingly infected visitor into their sanctuary. For all he knew, Bamsaegi would not last the week. It had happened on rare occasions, where a child or health compromised individual had died from the baireoseu. It was the reason they tried to close off the village during the winter season in the first place, to avoid any more losses or distractions from the reoccurring disease.
It had been a mistake to allow visitors into the village so early in the new year. The golden squirrel had been placed in charge of the child, his father an important general in the army, and his mother unable to leave the hospital since she had been taken out by the same disease, which had exacerbated a different, unknown illness, made only worse by a difficult pregnancy.
It was his fault that so many of his comrades were suffering. It was his fault that his little brother refused to eat or drink, despite the virus being cleared from his system
The squirrel had suggested closing the village again to prevent reinfection, sending out letters of intent. Almost immediately, the hedgehogs had calmly rode into the village with medical supplies and masks at the suggestion. For most, the saline IV bags and anti-nausea medication worked as if they had been sent from the heavens, finally allowing them to re-hydrate on their own.
The village loved their military run neighbors. The hedgehogs provided protection from threats, played with them, and even brought them aid in times of need. As squirrels, they really could not give much back, so they reciprocated the friendship with as much tasty food as they could spare, as well a food provisions for the winter, greatly hoping that their feelings could get through. It seemed to work, as the hedgehogs always smiled when they received the food, and would often reciprocate with delicious and medicinal Pine Mushrooms from the mountains in the fall.
But despite the treatment, the little brown squirrel was too afraid to eat, too much in pain and turmoil to think that he could ever be relaxed again. Food was bad, food made him feel sick, he was not hungry. All the youngling knew what that food and drink caused nausea. The pup was too young to comprehend that the issue would soon pass.
There was one good trick they could think of, one that had been suggested by Uncle Gom in the past to distract a sick pup until they absentmindedly ate or drank something. Geumsaegi and Juldarami had taken the younger squirrel out to a field, spreading out a blanket and leaving open a backpack with an assortment of soft food inside.
Bamsaegi had rested, for a while, but quickly became interested in the spring flowers around the meadow, shakily moving around to inspect the pink cherry blossoms. Thinking quickly while Bamsaegi was until one of the larger trees, Juldarami pulled out a spinning toy, sending it flying into the branches, showering the younger squirrel with the petals, forcing out a laugh and he gently danced among them. He touched the tree, quickly realizing that he did not have the energy to climb it, feeling great disappointment for the first time. Tired, he soon returned to the pair.
Quietly, as Bamsaegi lay his head in his brother’s lap, he became interested in the contents of the backpack, licking his lips as his eyes fell upon a strange bottle of red liquid, smelling the contents.
Pedialyte, the hedgehogs had called it. Entrancingly sweet, yet soft on the stomach, fantastic as dealing with dehydration in both pups and adults, and usually appetite stimulating if one had not eaten or drank in a long time. Almost a miracle potion. Especially considering the hedgehogs were usually very strict on not allowing foreign medicines from the western world into the country, preferring to depend on supplies from the White-Naped Cranes.
The commanders and the bear had been right, as always. Distracted by the strange color and the sweet smell, Bamsaegi had absentmindedly take a few sips. Upon realizing that drinking no longer caused his stomach pain, it had been easy to convince Bamsaegi to consume some soft foods, making progress towards recovery. Commander Goseumdochi and Commander Darami cared about them all so much. Geumsaegi was happy to follow their every command and suggestion, maybe even take initiative and innovate to make them proud. He would do anything for them the way they would do anything for him.
He would do anything for them. He would take any sort of pain for them even if it was not truly needed. If such was the case, they would come and rescue him quickly, after all.
Jinmon had watched carefully as the Special Aide’s struggles grew weaker as the time went on, surely blurred by the mild sedatives occasionally pumped through the oxygen line. Less pulling at the restraints, more twitching as the combination of lack of oxygen and strikes from the switch had begun to overload his brain with sensation. Occasionally, in deep bouts of exhaustion and short rests, he would slip a feeding tube down into the throat, forcing down water and porridge. Just enough to stave off any sensation of hunger.The lack of hunger upon awakening would lead his victim to grow alarmed, believe that it had only been one session that was never-ending. Usually. This one appeared resigned to his fate, almost as if he had experienced something worse than oxygen deprivation.
Turning the valve on the tube connecting to the oxygen mask to open, he waited for the mouse to catch his breath, come back to himself.
“You were very close to Commander Jogjebi. We all know how much you meant to him.”
The head jerked in the way one would except if suddenly woken up by a nice dream and plunged into reality. “He is the greatest commander of the Weasel Unit. Of course I would want to be close to him.”
“No matter how close you were, you were nothing when compared to Doctor Huinjogjebi. Why not tell me about him? Something small, make it easier on yourself today?”
The bound figure appeared to be trying to think, head lolling. “Commander Huinjogjebi will finish what Commander Jogjebi started with Flower Hill. He is…a good leader.” The response seemed as if it was an automatic defense, not true thinking. But he would return to his senses soon.
“Now, now, do you really think allowing that invalid to join with the Wolf Unit was a good idea? Those low born brutes may work well within their pack, but they really don’t work well with others. They believe themselves above the weasels, the true rulers of this land as by our rights.”
“Huinjogjebi is smart enough to know when to keep his rivals close, especially since they also want Flower Hill. Since the wolf commander is from a lower class that can’t see the color green, they would likely fall apart from infighting if my commander was not there…I think…”
Jinmon bolted upright. “Is that so? That is very useful information…” the figure in front of him snapped taught, going silent.
Geumsaegi was unable to tell if he had fucked up irreversibly. Very few individuals outside of that office knew that the wolf commander was unable to see the color green. Given the enemies’ love of the old caste system that had kept Flower Hill from truly becoming itself before the destruction of the emperor’s family, that bit of information was a bombshell. A revelation he should have held onto as a last desperate measure, if he needed to save himself.
Such a mistake would not happen again.
At the very least, starting some sort of dissent within the Wolf Unit with such information would have to be done carefully. Officer Yeou had a vested interest in preventing such information from leaking, after all, and if the rumors about the mysterious disappearances and deaths of wolves that had tried to blackmail the commanders in the past was true, she was very good at that part of her job. If the Chief of Staff’s faction tried such a thing, without taking her into account, they would be caught immediately.
“But that is not the information I am looking for…”
Fuck-Shit. Geumsaegi hear sank as he realized that he had been holding on to a hope that Jinmon would take that bit of information straight to the Chief of Staff, leaving him alone to figure out an escape without the nauseating sedatives. No such luck could possibly be held for a scout infiltrating the enemy. He knew better than that. Surely, the lack of oxygen to his brain as well as the sedatives had confused him. He had been complacent in seeing it as a soothing tool, after all, even. This was his own punishment.
For a moment, he thought of Juldarami rushing in, guns firing. It was briefly covered by the image of his comrade unconscious in the hospital, later hearing his exhausted voice over the radio. Don't think about that! He's fine! Juldarami was fine.
It did not matter if this killed him, if he died for his beloved hometown in this way. Flower Hill could activate another scout if he died in the line of his duty. It hurts! Stop it! If he held out, if he kept the attention on himself, it would be as if he was a lightning rod blocking the terrible damage of a storm from harming another comrade, or even the entirety of his hometown. He needed the Weasels to focus on him.
The rain the blows continued.
“…….H……………still in the hospital…ripped the stitches……..”
“………gre……..soon……we can still……..”
“……………………………………..I DON’T WANT,” An unfamiliar voice cutting through the fog.
“How……he……”
“……going well enough……b”
“Not responding anymore. Throw him in with the other one for a few days.
Notes:
Baireoseu- norovirus, also known as the winter bug
Pedialyte was invented in 1964 (and only distributed to medical facilities until 1969), but don't worry about the timeline here
Chapter 15: Squirrel Village’s Preparations
Summary:
As the annual Chuseok approaches, the hedgehogs worry that the normally relaxed squirrels are not prepared for any incursions made by the Weasel Unit. They decide to make their fears known and teach the squirrels a lesson.
Notes:
Chuseok- mid autumn harvest festival. It should be October 6th for North Korea this year
Further chapter updates may be more sporadic from now on. My boyfriend and I are moving into a house together, so I will probably have less time unless I can explain all this. He would probably be super excited to know about all of this, actually, but I don't know about him reading Lily Bell in the Thorn Thicket...
This chapter gets some shipping and romance in it, and I don't think it is gratuitous since the relationships will be important to the plot later on. I did have sah-headcanons read through the romance parts to make sure they sounded ok.
This is Lime on the citrus scale. The most I can bring myself to do in the main fanfic is a ‘fade to black,' so nothing too graphic (maybe someday I will give something serious a try, but it won't be public). My idea of NSFW starts with even the hint of a soft kiss while wearing clothes, so this may be a bit vanilla.
Sunchal and Bocho are the two squirrel night guards in the village in episode one. I have an entire story dedicated to them in the second chapter of Tales of Flower Hill, which I reference here.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Come to think of it, speaking of security, I am pretty sure the two of them know…”
Scout Goseumdochi twisted on his position in the grass, light of the moon bouncing off of his helmet, as Juldarami tilted his head, looking at the golden squirrel from an upside-down position on the grass.
“The two of who, knows what?” The hedgehog asked.
“Yagansunchal and Yaganbocho,” Geumsaegi lifted himself up by his elbows, watching the fireflies dance around them. “I think they know the two of you have been sneaking in through my window at night, especially when Bamsaegi has sleepovers.”
“And they have not reported a stranger in the village?” The hedgehog appeared almost confused, while Juldarami laughed softly, rolling until he faced the scout. A small gap was left, in case one wished to join them. Geumsaegi accepted the invitation, snuggling in between the two, three forms becoming one. It was breathtaking, almost hard to breathe when he was sandwiched between his two lovers under the stars, almost a secret rendezvous. Bamsaegi accepted the other two as partners for his father figure, but it would still be rude to awaken him in the middle of the night with laughter or other rambunctiousness.
“They know you, and they know that the hedgehogs are not a threat. And what the two or three of us get up to in the middle of the night is not their business, they would think. But they would surely whisper about what they saw between the two of them. They might have seen us together behind the meeting hall that one time.”
Scout Gosuemdochi gave a low snicker. “If the stories spread, it could heighten the unity between our two communities and bring us closer together.”
“What, like a political marriage?” Juldarami chimed in, grazing a spine with his fingertips, slipping underneath.
The hedgehog flicked his tail in sudden thought. “Politically, if a marriage was needed, then we would not have as such a great relationship. Good relationships between parties are given via friendship and free exchanges of food and services, which we have. But I do question the idea of the guards ignoring me on the assumption that hedgehogs are not a threat. What if I was trying to sabotage or kidnap someone?”
“I know they sometimes follow to make sure you really are a hedgehog and not a mouse in disguise. They would raise the alarm about that. But otherwise, if you wanted to harm the village, what exactly would we do about that? The hedgehogs have protected us for generations, ever since the emperors were overthrown. If the hedgehogs wanted to take over the village, there isn’t much we could do to stop you. Besides, we already listen to what you have to say, and offer food, so there isn’t much else you all could want from us if you became the villains.” Geumsaegi resisted making a joke about feudalism and lower caste farm workers giving their crops to the protecting soldiers. Their relationship was not forced, after all, but such jokes appeared to offend the hedgehogs and result in extra training.
“And that is why we keep saying that you need to learn how to defend yourselves better! Just simple training in conscription isn’t enough, you need to prepare yourselves after your time has been served, and join our ranks. Although you deny it to yourselves, you squirrels are so much stronger than you realize. Your stealth is equal to none, as well!”
The squirrels laughed softly at the hedgehog’s complaints, commonly repeated. Surely, he was never serious in his suggestion that there could be something that the hedgehogs and Uncle Gom could not handle, right? Not since he would smile at them like that afterwards, as if forgiving them for some mild prank or amusing petty crime.
Scout Goseumdochi was more insistent this night. “Speaking of Sunchal and Bocho, remember what happened to them? It could have gone so much worse. Commander Goseumdochi even suggested that I talk to you about increasing the night guards around the area. At the very least, he wishes to have Squirrel Village participate in the yearly training and awareness drills in the coming weeks to test the defenses of the village inhabitants. Although this time the intensity may be turned up.”
Jularami nodded, “It has been a while since we held any drills.”
“Well, we do create new safeguards every time we hold them. It was good that the morning guard shift knew to sound the alarm when the night guards did not return from their shifts.” Geumsaegi agreed, thinking of the annoyance to come.
“If you could just pass one of the tests without the water bomb simulators dousing the village…”
“Hey! Using the ducks to drop the water bombs was cheating, and you know it!” Juldarami rapped his knuckles against Scout Goseumdochi’s head, nearly stabbing a finger on a quill.
“That exercise was supposed to teach you to watch for flying enemies, and your squirrels should have picked up that they were disguised as crows!”
“The Fuck? Just a few fake black feathers taped to their heads was supposed to tell us that they were in disguise?”
“Alright. Well, if you can at least stop one infiltration of mice or weasel unit spies, I can rest easy.”
“Ha! You bet we could! But not any time soon, we have work to do in the village.”
It was almost time for the fall Chuseok. A time to get together and collect the chestnuts and harvest other long-lasting crops for the winter, to invite friends from other villages over for fun and festivities, a time for all of Flower Hill to play together. The squirrels could smell the promise of coolness in the breeze as the leaves changed colors, all while the heat of summer poured down on them, burning away most of their fears.
Still, the incursion of the mice trying to probe Flower Hill’s defenses the previous winter ate at the back of their minds, festering until they all forced themselves not to think of it. The hedgehogs and Uncle Gom had increased their patrols, after all, so it was not something that could happen again.
The firewood rack was already being filled with choice logs, to be split among the storage sheds nearby the houses later in the months when the snows came. Other, more temporary sheds, were being prepared in order to store the chestnuts safely. The hedgehogs had seemed surprised, yet inwardly pleased, that the squirrels had thought of that by themselves. Up until recently, they had buried the chestnuts in pits. But it had been difficult to dig them up when they were frozen in the ground, and so Geumsaegi had spearheaded the idea of using above-ground huts instead. Naturally, they had to erect signs to warn everyone as to where the now covered pits were, in order to avoid any injuries.
Sure, they could have filled them in. but there was also the option of expanding them, and obtaining concrete from other villages in Flower Hill, to possibly build underground shelters in the rare case of terrible storms. They could hide in the root cellars, but those were small, and could only shelter a single family. In times of disaster, the village preferred to stick together. It would be safer, as well, if one small group could peek out to see if the danger had passed, rather than one or more members from almost every family emerging, seeing and declaring conflicting information depending on where they were standing.
It was not something to be too worried about. The hedgehogs usually visited around this time of year, knowing that not much went on in between the summer and fall months. Scout Goseumdochi had been cagey, lately, having to stay away for longer and longer. At least more than usual. Which probably meant that the hedgehogs were going to scold them again for being too carefree, after surprising them with some trick or another. Admittedly, he did feel a little guilty for allowing the hedgehogs to do all the soldier work. But the squirrels’ own job of providing good food to the rest of Flower Hill over the winter helped to sustain them as well. Everyone knew that, so it was only natural. The past few years, the hedgehogs had come down to run some drills, including the squirrels in the activities more and more.
They had already received a message that the hedgehogs would be around conducting some drills in one of the coming mornings, and they were to carry on in the village as they always did. Nothing really to worry about.
A noise from outside the window woke Geumsaegi from a deep sleep. It was not the sound of himself receiving one of his nightly visitors with a coded knock, nor the regular sounds of someone moving outside secretly. It was not the night guards, either. He could recognize their footsteps. Not heavy enough for hedgehogs, when they even wanted to be heard, silent as they were. He rose, moving through the few rooms of his house. Bamsaegi was still deep asleep, curled up on his side. Nothing had fallen off of his bed or nightstand.
The strange noise came again, as if something was being rattled in the other room. A low whistle, and another rattle. Something that sounded like a low, dark, laugh. Or possibly wood rubbing together. Geumsaegi returned to his room. It is probably the wind moving the shutters around. I should close them. without waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness outside, he opened the window next to his bed, leaning out. The shutters were against the walls of the house, hooks holding them firmly in place. Strange…
Distracted, Geumsaegi was unable to act as a strong figure grabbed him, forcing a strangely sweet-smelling rag against his nose while clamping his mouth shut.
Fear, panic, a desperate sense of how could this happen?
He had struggled, of course. If he could knock something over, then Bamsaegi would come to investigate, and then sound an alarm, sending the village to his rescue.
Despite a popular trope, it was rather difficult for chloroform to knock someone out as fast as the old dramatic stories suggested. He twisted as best as he could, occasionally managing to get his nose or mouth free for just a brief instant, not long enough to call for help, but at least long enough to grab some fresh air, head pounding as he breathed in the fumes.
Still, the figure managed to pull him out of the window and onto the ground, moving to pin him against the wall, hands clamping around his mouth and nose. Clumsily, with a long-ago trained technique, Geumsaegi brought his arms up to slam the opponent’s hands away, making some distance from his attacker for the first time. It was not wearing a uniform he recognized. Before he could yell, the figure surprised him by sprinting forward, and slammed a fist into the squirrel’s stomach, driving the air out of his lungs to prevent him from calling out. He was quickly flipped onto his back, on top of the attacker, legs pinned apart by the unfamiliar knees, arms rendered useless by a restraint hold through his armpits. Hands and rag back on his face, he thrashed around until a separate bag over his head rendered him insensible.
I need to lower my arms…Why was he sleeping in such a strange position, arms behind his back? Although lying on a dirt floor was more alarming, suggesting that he was not where he was supposed to be. It was also taking far too long for him to wake up, his mind swimming as it fought off something foreign that should not have been inside his body, headache vanishing.
I was attacked! Reflexively, he tried to bring himself to a sitting position, only to be met by restraints. His wrists were tied to opposite elbows, his knees and ankles together. Can I reach the knots? Too dangerous to try with the blindfold tied tightly around his head. Someone might be watching him, and might adjust his bonds to where he could not reach them later. The gag, however, suggested that he might be alone, with his captor needing to leave him for a little while.
For a moment, he struggled in a panic, action stopping immediately as he heard someone softy sigh in triumph. He froze, unable to move, listening intently to get his bearings.
He was not in his house, at the very least. He could not hear Bamsaegi struggling as well, so it must have been just him that was captured. Who had him? Had the mice gotten into the village after all? He could still tell that they were inside a structure, one with a dirt floor that still smelled like the village, so they could not have gotten far. Especially not with how fast chloroform wore off. So, definitely hidden somewhere in the village. A foot cramped from the strange position, forcing him to struggle again.
Movement behind him. “Maybe a bit much for you? Or are you trying to kill yourself? I need you alive, so I cannot let you do that.” The voice appeared triumphant, yet too strong to be a mouse. From what he could sense, the figure was not tall enough to be a weasel. Perhaps the size of a mouse, but far too confident. Not a crow.
“Don’t go screaming now. I just need juuuuust a bit of information from you. I suggest you cooperate if you want me to leave you alive. The gag was removed.
“…Scout Goseumdochi? Is this part of the training you wanted to do today?” This was a bit more harsh than usual, but Geumsaegi was touched by the thought put into it.
A pause, followed by a laugh as a rudimentary voice changer was moved away. “I told you we were coming today to test your preparedness, did I not? It is not looking good if the Weasel Unit has already captured the leader of the village! You really should be more concerned about your lives! Let us hope that the other squirrels are able to figure out that something is wrong and actually investigate.”
Scout Goseumdochi’s voice sounded strange, as if concerned and disappointed, having planned this escapade for days. Geumsaegi was not as worried. Ever since Sunchaldarami and Bochodarami had been abducted in the middle of the night while on patrol, he had known that there needed to be many changes to the village’s procedures in protecting themselves.
“My squirrels are more resourceful than you give them credit for,” united in one mind as they were, the subordinates mostly waiting for his orders before doing anything, they still had some sort of common sense. The morning sentries had come straight to him upon finding that the previous guards were missing, and the squirrels had naturally split into groups of twos and threes to search the village, starting at the more remote areas. The chaos in the storeroom and drag marks on the ground had been easily found. Still, if this was some sort of training game, then he did not need to mention that the sentries would now report directly to him every morning, unless he left a message with Bamsaegi. They would notice he was gone, and surely wake up other squirrels to be on guard. If not a full-blown panic, they would at least conduct a bit of a search. Hopefully. As long as they did not get distracted by the beautiful weather and blooming flowers, as they sometimes did, of course.
“Right about now, the ‘mice’ have set up some booby traps around the village. Nothing that would get anyone seriously injured, mostly harmless water bombs. There is dye in them this time so that we can see who was tricked by what and maybe take them in for some special training.” Goseumdochi continued his speech. “I still have to set up some of them, of course. Maybe leave a ransom note for you.”
Thoughts racing quickly in the forced darkness, Geumsaegi thought of a frightening scenario that could change the entire situation. His nodding along came to a halt, ears and tail twitching incessantly. “Ok, but just one thing. You… are Scout Goseumdochi, right? You are not a mouse pretending to be him, while your friends ransack the village? Where am I? What building is this?”
“What? Of course I am Goseumdochi! You do not need to worry about that.” The soft laugh was meant to be comforting, but still sounded relived that he was questioning the scenario.
It did not dissuade Geumsaegi's one worry, remembering stories of old of spirits being able to imitate the voice of a friend. Surely, any enemy could do so as well?“But I am blindfolded. I cannot see you. Why am I not allowed to see you if you are actually who you say you are? You could be lying and try and trick me into giving up information! For all I know, you really are a fucking mouse,” his voice grew higher and higher, legs thrashing.
“That’s not-”
“This is just a training exercise, right? So, prove to me that it is so, and let me see you to confirm. That would be fine, right?”
“Alright, then.”
Scout Goseumdochi removed the blindfold, gently brushing the golden ears to comfort his friend, allowing Geumsaegi to look around his temporary prison, steady eyes landing on one of his lovers’ faces. Finally, his shoulders sagged as he relaxed, even as the blindfold was tied back around his head. In reality, he was safe. There were no mice in the village, harming those he was supposed to protect. Instead of hard earth, the ground felt soft, relaxing.
“You are not feeling any residual effects from the chloroform, are you? No headaches or dizziness? The ropes are not cutting off any circulation?”
“Ah, no, I feel fine.”
“If you are sure, then I have to go out now, and set up another spot for sabotage.”
“No, you really don’t. An actual mouse from the Weasel Unit would go straight into interrogating me for information after removing the blindfold as a threat like that. So why don’t you interrogate me, you big needle mouse?”
Scout Goseumdochi snorted at the name, but acquiesced. “Alright, since you know so much, what would hypothetically happen here?”
“A mouse would have grabbed me in the hopes that I would give over some information immediately, and then start with some threats and light interrogation. But I do actually have some training that an actual mouse would not know about.”
“True, we did go through that training together. But you only had the basic…”
“And a mouse would not know this. The interrogation would last about maybe…three hours before he went to finish up with his messages and sabotage? Although, you already know everything you should, so you wouldn't have to ask questions here.”
Geumsaegi yelped as strong and firm hand grabbed his tail, pulling him several feet into a pile of something soft. For a moment, he struggled, failing to find the knots on his bonds. Fully secure, with no chance of escape, yet not painful. With the blindfold on, he would have truly panicked if he did not know who had him. Something he would have to work on in the future, of course.
Scout Goseumdochi gently rubbed the tail in apology, and then grabbed it again. He moved upwards, gripping the extra skin at the back of Geumsaegi’s neck, pulling his back into an arch. A soft breath blew at the hairs in the squirrel’s ear. “And how do you suppose we start off this ‘light interrogation’ of yours before it gets serious?” The squirrel simply squirmed, crashing his lips against his captor’s. Scout Goseumdochi returned the kiss, glancing down at the knife he was going to leave nearby in case an emergency required them to cut the ropes.
"Is it...the right season, though?" The hedgehog pulled away to ask the important question.
Geumsaegi laughed, understanding. "It is early fall, is it not?"
Scout Goseumdochi's hand moved, supporting the golden squirrel's head as he bent the figure back over, fully pinning him to the ground.
Both figures, one lightly bound and blindfolded and the other moving nearby, both panting, out of breath. “I guess…I guess the interrogation is over?”
“For now. But I do have to go, for now. Maybe I will have to try and get the information out of you again after I return from-”
An alarm bell began to ring throughout the village as a siren chimed. Something was wrong. Scout Goseumdochi tensed, confused.
Behind him, a radio cracked to life. “The squirrels went looking for their leader and found the bombs, this time. Their response has been quite inspiring to watch.” Mulori, watching over the village from afar to keep track of the events. She… probably knew what the two of them had been doing.
“Have they found anything I left in the window shutters?”
“They found the hidden bottle of chloroform near signs of a struggle, and cordoned off the area while searching for their leader. Guns and other weapons were grabbed before the alarms went off, but after the children and elderly were moved into the secured rooms of the meeting hall.” The duck sounded both professional and motherly, as if concerned for the fears of everyone involved, as usual.
Another radio, distinctly giving off the static of the Weasel Unit, crackled to life next to the Flower Hill radio.
“Hello, sir…” it was a shame that Juldarami had to be off other villages to deliver invitations to the Chuseok. Everyone would have gotten to hear his enraged yelling, the full-bodied threats on what the squirrel would do to anyone who messed with his paramour. Instead, thankfully, they had one of the more level headed squirrels. And possibly quite a few villagers gathered around, listening instead of patrolling.
Scout Goseumdochi removed the voice changer from the belt laying nearby as he pulled it on. “Good morning, squirrels,” he sneered into the radio. “As you have probably figured out by now, we have your leader. If you want to see him again, hand over all the currency located in the village, as well as some food, and allow us safe passage back into Weasel territory. I will tell you where I have stashed your leader after I have left. Fail to give in to my demands, and we will set off the bombs we have set up around the village.”
Removing his finger from the button, he turned to the other radio. “Mulori?”
“All of the bombs have been found and deactivated.” She sounded breathless, amazed, proud. Geumsaegi could feel Scout Goseumdochi shift in kind. He wondered about what the other hedgehogs watching must be thinking.
“Prove to us that Geumbitdarami is still alive. Let us speak to our leader.” The voice was firm, practiced. Different enough from the regular tone of a squirrel to give the hedgehog pause.
“Heh. Well, if you insist. Although given that we have been alone for several hours with me trying to extract information from him, he may not be in the best position to speak?” Geumsaegi held back a snort.
“Put. Him. On.”
Scout Goseumdochi moved over to Geumsaegi, holding the radio to his face. “Here. Say something.”
“WE ARE IN THE OLD CHESTNUT PIT OPPOSITE THE MAIN ENTRANCE!” Goseumdochi jerked back in shock. Of course! That is the real reason he wanted the blindfold off!
The pit was surrounded immediately, as the sounds of guns and rifles racking filled the air.
“You fools! Did you think that I have come here alone? There are others in the village just waiting to attack!”
“Others? Do you mean the five other mice we have captured over the past few days? And interrogation has proven that there were only five. You cannot fool us! Surrender, now!”
“So that is why you had the raccoons call me out for a meeting that day,” Juldarami mused.
“It makes sense!” Geumsaegi responded. We both know about Scout Goseumdochi’s voice changer modulator, but you haved used it with him, so you would know immediately that there was no real invasion.” His voice turned serious, accusatory. “I do not appreciate the hedgehogs terrifying my Squirrel Village into thinking that there was an actual attack and kidnapping happening, though.”
“We told you we were coming- ah!” the small brush glided between the spines, a space not usually accessed by non-hedgehogs.
“That you did. I think it went a lot better this time, don’t you think?” Juldarami delighted in moving the bristles in between the spines.
Playfully, Scout Goseumdochi burrowed beneath the white sheets, the squirrels lifting up and edge to peak inside.
“Your village did a phenomenal job! So much better than last time! To think that you noticed the clues left by the other scouts and managed to catch them. A bit lax on our part, though. All they said was that they had set up the hideouts and the bombs, when they returned from their daily assignments.”
“Well, they did set them up. They were also captured, so it is not like they could have alerted you in any way.” Despite the training exercise, the hedgehog scouts had to return back to the hedgehog compounds for their actual duties, returning to squirrel village in order to participate in their own mock interrogations and captivity.
The three continued to cuddle together, eventually joining the hedgehog under the white sheets, whispering in the bedroom of Juldarami’s house, a sort serious after mission discussion. Some of the squirrels were still jumpy from the events of the previous days, so outdoor rendezvous would risk them getting caught in the possible indecency. Still, they were able to snuggle together in a pile on the bed, Scout Goseumdochi on the side to avoid poking anyone. It was hard for Geumsaegi to move, limbs and back slowly falling asleep from his inability to change positions, not that he minded. It was hard to breathe.
“Uncle Gom was not happy though. He can still protect us just fine. So, he still wants us to include us in our next projects so that he can lead us.” Geumsaegi griped.
Goseumdochi twisted, frowning. “It is still not good to leave control of your villages defenses to outsiders, no matter the intentions and if you can trust them. The might of one bear can be overcome by the might of many working together.”
“But he is still so big and strong! Gom has protected the village in the past without the help of the hedgehogs, and will continue to do so. He will prevent any real attacks by armies, at least, but we still have to be ever vigilant for individuals and small groups.”
“He cannot protect you from being interrogated if captured, though.”
“True, but that would require a mouse to catch one of us. I think we showed you that we have plenty of procedures and defenses in place that even you hedgehogs don’t know about, that will work very well against intruders.”
“It was quite a clever system, I have to admit. We did not expect any of that."
"We wanted to surprise you!" Juldarami chirped
The hedgehog frowned again. "Although, did you really expect to be able to hold out for several hours while being interrogated by the enemy?”
“If it is for the safety of my village and the defense of Flower Hill, I could endure anything!”
“You do remember Commander Goseumdochi does not mind if you are forced to give away important information if it means avoiding death and permanent injury, remember? You should think about telling them what they need to know, but at least omit the most important details, if you can. As long as you report what information you gave away. ”
“Wake up, you fucking idiot!”
“Yes, of course I do remember…”
“You need to trust in yourselves a little more, take matters into your own hands. And you really need to be more careful from here on out. But you should really wake up out of your memories right now, Flower Hill needs you.”
Geumsaegi frowned at the hedgehog straddling him, and then glanced at Juldarami who had been patting the cheek of the squirrel below him, glasses glinting in the sinking sunlight. He tried to sit up, a mysterious invisible force pinning his wrists and ankles to the bed. His back stung as if he had been laying on it for days.
“Wait…what? What is…?” the patting became harder slaps.
“DAMN IT SPECIAL AIDE! I am not spending the rest of my life in this shithole, and I need you alive to escape! WAKE UP!”
“Mulmangcho?”
Notes:
Ah yes, the wife under the white sheets trope.
Both North and South Korea celebrate the Chuseok, although North Korea only has a one day celebration while South Korea has three.
Late summer/Early fall and late winter/early spring are when squirrels become...active. It is about the same for hedgehogs. Mice are year round.
Chapter 16: Negotiations
Summary:
The traitorous weasels need to rest, and so does Geumsaegi. Upon coming to his senses, the disguised squirrel quickly comes up with a scheme to survive the current rebellion, and to ensure the safety of his beloved Flower Hill at the possible destruction of the Weasel Unit. Straying outside of his authority as a scout, he approaches the recalcitrant Mulmangcho, a key component for his plan. But will his long-standing nemesis be willing to cooperate?
Notes:
Well, I was not expecting to hear news of new Squirrel and Hedgehog episodes finally coming. So that should be interesting! Won’t stop me here, though, I have had a plan and I will not change it for that.
It does turn out that Squirrel and Hedgehog does have a spin-off manhwa named ‘Battle for Wisdom Hill,’ that started in 2017. You can read it, as well as other North Korean graphic novels, here https://sites.google.com/view/northnkaal/printed-materials/books-in-korean. Lots of thanks to my mutual pangulggot
on Tumblr who rotated the files, and is allowing them to be shared https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1ALW68OHOWnOVWiM0Qck4JQuayMdwVdezIt appears to be (from a quick glance) about a society near or in Flower Hill, with a focus on scientists, although Commanders Goseumdochi and what is probably Darami do appear. It does seem to have them being attacked by the alligators/crocodiles from the wolf Unit, which is a bit of a setback considering I had a few story arcs and a chapter or two relevant to the plot about what the alligators/crocodiles were up to around Flower Hill, which I may have to change and reorganize depending on how canon it is. Also depending on the context and how canon it is, an area where the scientists work would actually work great for a later AU I have involving scientists.
Beetle is translating Wisdom Hill, which leaves me free to translate Great General Mighty Wing, although I might give the finished translation to the people close to me first instead of dropping the entire thing in public. I also kind of want to do some more fanfics with Mighty Wing, as well as some fanfics for Black Cat Detective and Spy vs Spy as well as working on this.
I’ve had this chapter planned out like this for almost two years since I was working on Lily Bell, so I have been pleasantly surprised to see that several people have the same headcanons for this scenario that I do, despite me not saying them out loud.
I appear to be accidentally switching between the Mulori and Murori spellings throughout this fanfic, and I apologize for that.
I may experiment with having characters get a bit hot and heavy, such as the Commanders or Geumsaegi and Juldarami, or characters in flashbacks. I don’t think I can do full on NSFW just yet. I’m not against it or anything. Last year when I was sick long term another blog managed to isolate me and tried to bully and blackmail me into doing pornography with them, and I’ve never been so disgusted and frightened of a situation in my life (nothing happened other than something finally clicking through the long covid brain fog that I needed to GTFO and reevaluate what on earth was going on and why I was hanging out with them). So, I’m a little afraid of what might happen if they hear about/see me writing NFSW not specifically for them. Maybe I will someday, maybe if a trusted mutual or my SO asks me to, but it would at least start out in a private account where only people I trust would have access.
I feel like I could probably ask or commission CalysisProductions to write smut for a chapter if I wanted, but I also feel like I would want to do it myself.
Also, funny enough, my SO thinks I AM writing NSFW and wants to read it. Sometimes in between work meetings after I get home (I work the early shift), he tries to playfully sneak around the corner to see, lmao. So I might as well try my hand at it at some point?
Chapter Text
Startled by the shouting, Geumsaegi could hear his own ragged gasps, struggling to catch his breath after his lungs had not been able to fully inflate for some time. Somewhere, deep in his bones, instinct told him that something was coming, and he needed to be prepared, air in his lungs becoming uncomfortably frigid. The sensation was overshadowed by the feeling of a cool compress against his burning forehead, stray drops of liquid rolling down the sides of his temple. A piece of cloth darted around his lips, moistening his mouth and throat until the fabric was squeezed, allowing him to swallow, coming back to his senses, slowly.
“Fuck-shit! Of course, a bastard like you would take so long to wake up…”
His body hurt. Especially his lower back. Why does it hurt? What has happened?
“Hey! Get up, now! Do you want to die? I am not your nursemaid!”
Mulmangcho!
Geumsaegi’s memories flooded back into him, dislodging his sense of self buried within. The gassing in the transport vehicle, the abduction, the room full of weasels, the failed escape, and then Jinmon and his inescapable torment.
Almost immediately, rational thoughts were stripped away, as small prey instinct took over, screaming at him to runrunrungetawayrunrunenemyENEMYfightfightcannotfightrunaway
With an alarmed shout, Geumsaegi pushed the glasses wearing mouse off of him, keeping him away for some distance. The squirrel jumped to fight, but knocked his head on the low ceiling, finding himself too uncoordinated to attack the currently stronger mouse, now glaring at him in a mix of annoyance and delight, clearly about to reach out and grab him hurt him.
He’s an enemy! He wants to kill you! He will kill you like he has tried many times before! Run! RUN! In order to run, he needed to stand. His back screamed for the ability to straighten, to release the tension from being forced to remain in one position for days on end, searing flames that had distracted him worse than the lack of oxygen and the canings.
The cell was oddly shaped, uncomfortably narrow near the door, while wider with a mound of straw at the other end. Seemingly, as a method of cruelty or hurried construction, the ceiling was too low to allow standing, except by the one, small, heavily barred window on a wall that led to the outside.
Water sprayed as Geumsaegi carelessly hit the barrier, liquid streaming in from a roof to pool in a dip on the floor, and draining out through a small architect-made crack in the floor. The rain would be their source of water in the cell. He could see the sun beginning to set, nothing outside but the peaks of mountains high in the air, and dark freezing clouds looming far in the distance, promising more precipitation. Would it blow through the window? A gust of wind forced him to shiver as he reached an arm out, checking the width between the bars. The sense of dread increased the longer he looked outside, at the nothingness and advancing clouds, still far away, searing into his unusually sensitive eyes.
His back ached, but not as much as he had inwardly expected. Almost as if something- or someone- had partially helped remove the knot that had formed.
“Son of a bitch, that was fast.”
Runrunrunrunenemyenemy
The squirrel had to crawl to reach the door, ceiling sloping and walls narrowing until he was on his knees. He peered out between the bars into a long, normal sized hallway lit by torches, ending at a door at the other end. No guards! I could sneak up on someone or set up an ambush! Nojustrunjustrun I have to get outside!
Shuffling backwards, he exited the narrower portion, and then returned, feet first.
“I already tried that, it’s no good!” the voice behind him was taunting, yet annoyed.
Geumsaegi slammed his feet against the bars, which refused to move. Too sturdy. He tried again, desperately.
“At least put your boots back on. I’m not bandaging your feet more than I have if you hurt yourself.”
The blows were too jarring, the pain radiating from his soles, up his legs, and into his back and head. He had to stop. For now, there was no way to escape. The creature in the room with him had not attacked him while he had staggered around, so maybe he could survive just a bit longer…
The squirrel’s vision grew blurry as his thoughts became more scattered, drifting away from the mute deafness that had surrounded his ears. He moved back to the center of the cell, gentry crawling and making sure to be out of reach of the other being. He sat with his back against the wall, leaning forward, knees up to try and support himself as the walls’ jagged gray began to twist and fade.
“And there you go again…shit.”
A short rest, combined with a few gulps of water from his cupped palms, allowed the golden squirrel to focus again. He could understand what was happening now, especially since his eyes had adjusted to the light now that the blindfold had been removed. The weasels were willing to take their time with him, fully confident that their plans with him were going to work. They wanted him to rest for a bit, so he did not die of shock or from his heart giving out from the stress. Jinmon probably needed to sleep as well. A proper sleep, so he did not have to keep an eye on his prisoner’s respiration under whatever light sedative he had been given. He sat up straighter now that he was awake and calmer, Mulmangcho sitting away from him, not willing to sit near the window where the water continued to spray in. He could see his clothes folded on the straw. He would need to put them on to fight off the chill in the air, but he would need to gather the energy to do so. The silence was palpable, but he could make some guesses as to why the mouse was not trying to attack or unmask him.
Geumsaegi’s wounds had been dressed in his sleep, and going off of Mulmangcho’s earlier comments, Jinmon had not been the one to do it. His fur had been somewhat cleaned of grime and sweat, enough for him to be presentable to the other. His back ached, but in a strange way that suggested that Mulmangcho had known about the position he had been in, and had known about the aching muscle in order to massage out the tendons and knots while he was unconscious. But why go that far? Mulmangcho had always tried to kill him in the past, would have every reason to do so after the past few days, so why not get his revenge now? Well, the glasses wearing mouse did tend to have some intelligence when dealing with the enemy, which he had made the mistake of underestimating before. Perhaps he thought he had the upper hand, and was trying to strike a deal. His one eared brother was missing, after all, and Flower Hill might be interested in finding him.
Well, two could play at that game. He needed some answers to some more important questions.
The disguised squirrel shifted slowly, slumping against the wall, legs slightly splayed. He forced his tail to lie limp on the stone, ears and eyelids drooping, forcing out a deep rasping breath on occasion. Even Commander Huinjogjebi had been fooled by the weak and barely conscious act back on the cliffs, the weasel actually concerned enough about his predecessors Special Aide dying, carelessly allowing the young Murori to fly away with Bamsaegi and Dr. Dudeoji's underground study data. It should work on the mouse.
“How long have we been in this facility?” His own voice, breaking through the silence, sounded hoarse to him. He would regain it soon, but it at least served him well to lower his cellmate’s guard.
“Five days.”
Only five days? He had been reduced to such a state in only five days? He had been sure that it should have been longer than that. Mulmangcho did not have any motivation to lie in this situation, assuming he could trust that much. And besides, if he bad been trapped for longer, then Flower Hill would have come to his rescue by now, if the Weasel Unit had not abandoned him to his fate.
“Do… do you know how long it will be before…’ he began, gesturing weakly on purpose.
“They said they would come back in a few days. At least two or three.” Mulmangcho looked at him in curiosity, as if he wanted to see the squirrel’s expression twist in fear, but was disappointed to see quiet contemplation instead.
It would be at least three. Three days on, three days off was the most reasonable framework. It would allow him to heal from his injuries while creating a pattern. They expected him to feel fear and terror while waiting, knowing that there was a schedule. It did not bother him as much as they probably hoped it did. If there was a schedule, it meant that he would have time to recover his wits and fortify himself against the next session. On the other hand, it meant that the weasel would have the time to go over whatever notes he had taken, mental or otherwise, and change his techniques to what had seemed to work the most. A double-edged sword.
“Do they drop any food off, or have you been eating that straw in the corner?”
“They have been dropping meals off midday.”
Geumsaegi nodded, looking out at the colorless sky through the tiny barred window, less blinding than before now that his eyes had adjusted. So, all he had to do was hold out until midday tomorrow, and then maybe he would be able to eat something to soothe the gnawing in his stomach. Assuming, of course, that their captors continued their pattern of bringing them food. Not like he would put it past the weasels to stop while he was in there. He would not starve to death if there was no food, given the occasional feeding tube while strapped to the table. It just was not enough. He turned around in time to watch Mulmangcho dig through the straw to pull out two small loaves of bread that had been hidden underneath, which he then tossed to the squirrel. “Eat these, before I change my mind.”
Geumsaegi complied, simply glad that the bread was normal, if not slightly dense. Light and airy would have been terrible, would have left him wanting. Had Mulmangcho suspected that he would be joining him in the cell, or had he been storing food in case the deliveries stopped to buy himself more time to survive? He would get that answer. Now, of course, for the most important questions.
“Live feeds?” Was there anyone watching what was happening to him?
Mulmangcho shook his head. “No. Falling back to this base after your interference was a surprise for them, and grabbing us happened in a moment of opportunity. They did not have the time, nor the skills to set anything up, even in the hallways. Besides, the Chief of Staff had not ordered it since he is in surgery, apparently, so the others would not think to set it up. I’m sure whoever had a hold of you already has enough footage, if they want that.”
And I’m sure that said footage could be broadcast and used as a trap to lure in my comrades! Nothing he could do about it in this state, locked away. One thing at a time.
“And what exactly is it that you want from this?”
“What?”
“I have been unconscious in here for at least over an hour, and other than providing basic medical care, you haven’t done anything to me, even though we are alone. You even appear to have taken care of my back, like you knew how I had been strapped down.”
The mouse snarled, ears flicking back and forth as his stump of a tail twitched, as if wanting to attack but holding himself in check. “You are a complete idiot if you think I would have wanted to room with a corpse! Besides, as long as I keep you alive in here, they will let me live, and I have NO intention of dying before I get my brother back and prove that you are a traitorous scout infiltrating the Weasel Unit! Besides, if you break and give over the information they want, they will just kill us both since they will have no more usage for us, so I need to make sure you recover from the pain as well.”
Geumsaegi laughed lightly. “They are not going to kill us! We are too valuable to dispose of us outright, especially since they want us to work with them considering our former positions allowed us to help run the Unit. Once they torture the locations and codes out of us, they will start on the reeducation-”
The clarity of the situation over the past few days smashed into the squirrel’s head as hard as a bag of bricks, briefly forcing his vision to narrow as his heart pounded in his ears.
He had failed to escape from captivity. He was being hurt. He was being tortured. HE was being tortured. It was not a movie, or even an old scouting legend. It was happening to him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had not wanted this. He had always fought so hard to avoid this outcome, at the risk of death itself. It was the end for him, most likely. The pain was not going to stop. It was never going to stop. His captors would make sure of that. They were never going to stop hurting him. He was not some mythical scout from the old legends that could endure months to years of torture without rescue, without the physical comfort of his comrades. He would break, eventually, and give the weasel the location of the safe and the codes. That much was a given.
But it would not stop there. They would continue, breaking down his very mind in order to make him dependent on them. The pain would never stop, and eventually he would start doing what they wanted just for it to lessen a bit. And even the slavering weasel knew that torture was not that effective of a motivator for it to only happen once. There would be maintenance sessions to keep him compliant, so he would not even try and cry for help. Over time, he might even begin to enjoy working with this group of weasels against their enemies, if only in an attempt to mentally escape. They might even try to make him destroy his beloved Flower Hill.
His mind began to drift, heart pounding harder and harder throughout his veins, heart twisting, fingers and tongue going numb, drooling, nose threatening to drip alongside his ever-widening eyes. His mouth twitched, as if wanting to turn into a scream. He was being tortured and it was far too real and it was never going to stop and no one was going to help him-
“So, how long do you think it is going to take for Flower Hill to show up and extract you? I suppose I can try and make an escape then…” the second part was muttered, as if an afterthought he was not supposed to hear.
Back to reality, an immediate sense of calm as the second realization hit him. It was not as if he was alone. Everyone was surely looking for him, and it had only been five days since they had been abducted. Surprise kidnapping that it was, the Chief of Staff’s rebellion still had to be confident enough to cover their tracks, especially since trucks had been used. The wolves were good at tracking, and the information he held was far too valuable to allow him to stay in enemy hands, but they would still need some time to plan an assault on what he assumed was a mountain base. Both Commanders Huinjogjebi and Seungnyangi would assume that if care had been taken to grab him, then he would not be killed right away, so they were unlikely to simply rush in. It had only been five days.
Flower Hill would have found out about the abduction as soon as the weasels brought the news to the old weasel, so his own commanders would have sprung into action already. They would find him. They would not rest until their friend and ally had been found. He could almost expect to see his dear friends breaking down the door within the next few days! And then, they could set it up to look as if he had escaped himself, or that a schism had formed within the rebellion. The former Chief of Staff did not know of his supposed connections to Flower Hill, so he would not expect a group of ducks slipping in, assuming they were not inside the base looking for him already. And even if they did not, there was still his own secret backup plan with Commander Huinjogjebi…
Steadying himself with a few deep breaths, he spoke as normally as possibly, to hide his near breakdown. “Ah. Yes, I suppose being captured by a third party in the war, would be an excellent time for Flower Hill to make a move, and abduct the former Special Aide for themselves. I suppose I could expect them at some point, if they arrive before our own allies.” He would still play the loyal Weasel Unit soldier for a bit, test the waters until he could make his own pact with the mouse. As much as he fucking hated the idea of working with an enemy that had tried to murder his comrades and brother.
Mulmangcho snarled, eyebrow twitching, and then threw Geumsaegi’s clothes at him. “Get decent. Would not want your friends showing up seeing you like this, would you, now? Then again, at least one of them might like that.”
And there it was. The data disk that Guemsaegi had managed to pick from Mojibja’s pocket during the fight at the base could be felt in the secret compartment where the hacking device had been held, before he made the mistake of moving it to a more accessible area. Almost imperceptible to anyone else who would have searched and patted down his clothes. He was lucky that Mulmangcho had been too distracted to go looking too deeply through his garments for secrets.
Quietly, Geumsaegi pulled on his clothes, as if deep in thought. It was not a plan he should be coming up with without the knowledge or permission or the Commanders. It had already been a risk to return to the Wolf Unit without backup, a decision normally outside of his authority. But the commanders had trusted him, against their own misgivings. And look where it had gotten him. He barely had any information to report. There was a very high chance that Commander Goseumdochi would order him back, unable to trust his judgement after such a risk had backfired on him. It was a plan that could get him branded as a traitor if he could not explain himself in time, or if they thought he was trying to take over the operation for his own goals. But the disk very well held the key to the annihilation of the hated weasel and wolf enemies who threatened the safety and lives of his beloved comrades, or even the destruction of his own homeland if he was not careful.
But if Flower Hill wanted to access the data, if they wanted to keep everyone safe, then they would need the codes from the mice that had nearly brought their destruction several times. He, or Flower Hill, would need to track down Oegwipali, and get his codes as well, and prevent anyone else from finding the two mice, or anyone else who might have codes for the data. He needed them alive. He needed to get them to Flower Hill, so the codes could be extracted in whatever way possible. He could have them executed afterwards if he wanted, as long as their presences were kept a state secret. Assuming, of course, the commanders would not rather simply have the mice killed as an easier pathway to protect their country. But the mice could have other beneficial information outside of the disks, such as the locations of other spies who may have escaped the Tokgasi round up, so surely the Commanders would want them alive? It was a risk, but he was sure of his decision.
The squirrel glanced down at himself again, at his legs that had been wrapped in moist, chilled cloths, to help with the bruising and pain. He shifted, feeling the release that had been given in his spine. Good. He should be amenable. There is a chance. He fucking hated what he would have to do, but he would play the game, as a good scout should for his country. He could feel the air grow colder around him as he spoke.
“They think we are lovers, or at least sleeping together, don’t they?” a shocking, yet simple opening that could be followed up in many ways.
“…what makes you think that?” The mouse stiffened, guarding himself.
“The only reason they would put us together like this, is either because they think you would further try and force me to tell the truth, or because they think we are together and you would take care of me. Did they give any indication of which way they thought and why?”
“And where are you going with this?”
“I would prefer for my wounds to not become infected while I am unconscious whenever they dump me back in here. You would like to survive.” He stated simply, “However, there would need to be a reason for them to suspect this…”
“They do think we have feelings for each other, or at the very least you are keeping me for your own amusement. Given how close you stay to me, how I was able to determine a fake had replaced you, and how the elevator ‘mysteriously’ stalled when we were mostly alone, and was opened with you straddling me like we were doing something we shouldn’t be doing in public, the weasel that dragged me in here told me it was obvious we had something going on. And I know damn well not to let you die here, since I would be killed as well.”
He continued, ears vibrating in annoyance, yet speaking carefully. “It is easy enough to pretend that is true in here, I suppose. Many of the mice and weasels assume you are holding me close as a ‘kept mouse’ as a revenge rebound after the death of General Commander Jogjebi. They think the way we stalk each other is your method of getting in the way to prevent Commander Huinjogjebi from executing me until you have had your fun with me, and the rivalry beforehand was some kind of flirting. We both know that insanity or nervous breakdown diagnosis was bullshit, and could be perceived as a fake diagnosis you arranged to keep me from being executed as a traitor.”
That made sense. The vast majority of the Weasel Unit upper brass were well known to grab a mouse or two that they found attractive, and keep them close, giving them certain privileges. Geumsaegi had not been able to prove that Mulmangcho was the scout, and Mulmangcho had not managed to fully prove that he was the scout. It would not necessarily be thoroughly investigated if they were careful. Which allowed him to enact a second part of his plan.
“These third parties…” he began, carefully, “I think that they will pose a great danger to Flower Hill.” Mulmangcho looked up, as if expecting Geumsaegi to finally admit to being the traitor. “But I also think that they will cause the collapse of Usuhan Jiyeog in its entirety. Without a strong leading force, the minor kingdoms will rise up and war against each other, creating factions within the Units themselves. I am sure that Flower Hill would love to see the Weasel and Wolf Units be destroyed. Then again, they would have to start providing massive amounts of aid to the refugees, if not struggle to keep out random groups of invaders. Better the enemy you know, after all. I think Flower Hill would rather Usuhan Jiyeog remain intact, if only their armies depleted and secretly monitored, and I think it is for our best interests as members of the Weasel Unit to prevent any mass disruptions or rebellions from happening. I do not wish to be blindsided by any surprise coup when I am trying to find and break up several other planned coups.”
He was surprised by the amount of energy he had. “And I think a former traitor would be an excellent asset in helping to sniff out interlopers and new traitor groups,” he turned his head slightly, staring at Mulmangcho though slitted eyes, before returning to his former position, although allowing himself to appear stronger and recovering.
“I can’t kill you without losing respect and authority in case the other mice and weasels think you are insane, or having a mental break, as you said. But the ones who rebel or scheme will likely want you and your brother in on their rebellions, since you would know how to structure one properly. I need to track down the rebellions, and you are perfect bait, which is something Flower Hill should eventually find out about, and avoid killing you due to it. But you might be compromised if your brother is missing, and pass on important information to the third party if there are no other guarantees for his safety or rescue. I’m sure Flower Hill would like to find him to keep track of him as well…or they might just leave him to his fate if you fail to work for me and are killed.” A slight promise, yet veiled.
Geumsaegi could not revel in the enraged glare the mouse was giving him, even if there was a dim flash of hope as he spoke. “And you want to continue pretending to sleep together to stop Commander Huinjogjebi from killing me as an annoyance as well?”
Geumsaegi hummed an affirmative.
“And once you are done having your fun with me, once the armies have depleted, what would you do with us?”
“You can probably just get out of my sight and leave. One of the risks is that the other mice and weasels might get jealous and kill you once we split up, so you would have to be careful to keep in contact with me. Although, if someone were to continue to frame me as a scout, then we might both be publicly executed slowly, so we would have to put a stop to that. You know how Usuhan Jiyeog is.”
“As if Flower Hill would be any better if they thought we were scouts. They would do the same thing…”
“With Flower Hill, they would have been quick and clean about it. You might not even have known that you were dead.”
“And who would you have shot first if you had proven that we were the Flower Hill scout? Me, or Oegwipali?”
Geumsaegi tilted his head, ear twitching in mild thought, before choosing the correct words. “Would Oegwipali even be a threat afterwards if you were shot dead in front of him? I could probably leave him alone, and he would leave the army and go home to wherever you came from, or whatever safe haven you had planned. A one eared mouse is not a threat, and the weasels would probably force him out, anyway. Flower Hill doesn’t like to kill the disabled, so if the two of you were captured and you were executed, they would probably put on a show of letting him leave out of compassion,” the squirrel lied, easily. Judging by the way Mulmangcho blinked, it appeared to be working.
“Supply closets.”
It was Geumsaegi’s turn to blink in confusion.
“I have seen how weasels treat the mice they have chosen for special purposes. They meet up in closets or their offices more often than not. Besides, a quick meet up in a closet would allow for me to slip you some information, instead of waiting for both of us to be off for the night and meet in a bedroom. I assume part of your reasoning for keeping me around would be an excuse to keep me out of trouble and control me. That would require shorter meet ups for 'reprimands' as well.”
The squirrel nodded in understanding. “Now for the tricky part. What venereal diseases should I be aware of? I can get us some medicines or preventatives…”
Mulmangcho jerked up in anger. “You saw the health scanner back at the drilling base! I am clean. You, on the other hand, clearly faked your records somehow…”
Geumsaegi ignored the last part, mostly in distrust over the first. “That is surprising, considering how you mice are always in season for reproduction and sleeping around with each other and the weasels for fun and power.”
“I am different, unlike those morons! I know damn well you are suggesting actually having sex together as a way to control me, like I am supposed to think I am getting the better of you out of it. But I’ll have you know that I cannot have sex with someone unless I have known them for a long time, and even then, only if we trust and respect each other. I have to develop a proper bond with a partner, first, with someone patient enough to put in the effort! I won’t be actually sleeping with you. I don’t have the type of mentality that makes me want to sleep with someone at first sight just because their fur is pretty, or they are tall and strong, or because I want the rewards of what would come with the act. I have always worked for what I wanted, not by trading favors for it.”
“Oh, well, that’s normal at least.” Good. So, I won’t actually have to touch this disgusting bastard. The Commanders might have actually pulled me out for that. Juldarami, at least, would have immediately understood that there was a plan going on. A scout might have to seduce someone for information, after all.
“I… it actually isn’t…”
“Well, for you mice-”
“No, that isn’t normal for Flower Hill either. Most of them up there also want to fuck as soon as they see someone they find attractive.”
That was actually true. It had taken a long while for Geumsaegi to develop feelings for Juldarami, Scout Goseumdochi, and Murori, despite having known them since childhood. The other three had gotten together fairly quickly, but it had taken some time for Geumsaegi’s affection towards his friends to bloom into something else entirely, had gained other bonds of friendship and trust with the group that had been waiting for him, waiting patiently for him to recognize his own feelings as they came over time. He had known most other pairings in Flower Hill to get together and have sex immediately as well. But what was wrong with not immediately being attracted? It was not like there was something wrong with not feeling anything when first seeing an aesthetically pleasing individual unless they knew and trusted them. For the longest time, he had assumed that he was simply more mature, or stronger willed than others, to not even be distracted by members of his own nation that wanted to have some fun. Adults when he was growing up, as well as authority figures, had always praised him for his steadfastness in not being sidetracked from the mission or task no matter who he was with or who was involved.
It did not matter. He had at his hands his hated enemy. Forming the proper bonds with him would never work. He could respect the mouse and his terrible cleverness, but there was no way he could ever fully trust him, or respect his true actions against his family and home. Still, his curiosity was still there.
“Who else have you slept with, then?”
“Aekku, obviously. And only him. He recognized my intelligence, and we spent years together working on ways to control the Weasel Unit and steer it in the right direction. He was a perfect partner, and we worked together with mutual respect. Until your traitorous ass came along! If I did not need you alive… I already assume you have been sleeping with the Regimental Commander and General Commander Jogjebi.”
“Why would I have been sleeping with General Commander Jogjebi?”
“You should know that he was famous for having a preference for dormice, right? That is why he kept his own little scouting unit around him, like Number Six.”
“But he would not have been interested in me that way! I saved his life many times and proved my worth to him, so I was better than just one of his kept mice!”
“Yes, but he also kept sending you to his residences, suggesting that you rest in his house or bed while you waited for him to finish up. If circumstances had stopped intervening, and he was actually able to meet up with you in the bedroom, what do you think would have happened? Especially since you always left so quickly like a good little consort…although, if you are like what you say you are like, then I guess you were actually leaving in order to send messages to your handlers instead of seducing him for information.”
“My handlers? What do you- oh.” The realization hit Geumsaegi, forcing him to wonder what he might have done if the knife edge he had been dancing on came crashing down, ending his luck in that regard. It was immediately replaced with another thought.
Mulmangcho guessed immediately. “Commander Huinjogjebi would not be interested. Since the commander’s death, he has isolated himself from those kinds of thoughts, and would be far more interested in his Sturgeons, anyway. Besides, given his feelings towards the Commander, any attempt for that by a younger subordinate would easily be seen as a trick to get closer to him or to get information. That route is closed for you.”
“Hmm.” The disappointment of an opportunity closing was mixed with relief that he would not have to feign interest in the enemy. The wolves did not appear to have that sort of culture, so it would be much harder.
“Officer Yeou, however. She might try to have a go with you for information, or to tease some of the wolves.”
Geumsaegi grimaced. “I do not think I could try and seduce such a disgustingly brazen female. If she came to me, I might have to tell her that she should save herself for the Commander Seungnyangi instead.”
“Only my brother and those with weaker minds could possibly think she is actually interested in them. Then again, she might end up genuinely interested in someone who doesn’t show any interest in her body. Or another female.”
They sat in silence for a minute, before Geumsaegi continued.
“Still, we are in agreement, then.”
Mulmangcho nodded reluctantly. “I work for you, pretending to be your plaything or lover, while we work together to bring down traitor units infiltrating the Weasel and Wolf Unit. I bring you all the information I find, and maybe run some errands and messages for you on the daily. Maybe clear up the drug issue among the wolves before it spreads to the mice and weasels. In return, you will protect me from Flower Hill and the Weasel Unit executioners, and you and Flower Hill will help track down and return Oegwipali from the third party who has him. Maybe, if we are lucky, you will let the both of us leave together.” Mulmangcho sounded almost defeated having to say the plan out loud. Still, he had been willing to work together with Flower Hill in the past to survive.
This was no different. He wanted to live, and he wanted his brother returned alive. There was nowhere for him to run. There was no other option than to agree to the terms. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could sneakily kill the Special Aide once it was all over. He just had to be patient. He would take that golden tail in revenge for the loss of his own, for the revenge of all the humiliations he had suffered due to the traitor, even for the loss of his younger brother, Mulsajo, whom he had thus far been unable to avenge. Then again, the squirrel would be far too protected by the Weasel Unit for him to make a move, and any agreement with Flower Hill would be broken if he stepped too far out of line.
Of course, however, the Special Aid had his own younger brother. Perhaps, after their agreement had finished, he could send a group after the brown squirrel and take his tail instead. That could remove suspicion from himself, while also causing great distress to his hated enemy. Or simply grab the younger soldier, and make the Special Aide experience the fear of not knowing where his family member was, if they were alive and ok, make him experience the fear that he was feeling right now, the loss of knowing that you had failed to protect your own family that could now possibly be gone forever. He would just have to bide his time.
“I expected to have to help you through this, and maybe have you agreed to look the other way when Flower Hill showed up for the rescue. I suppose this is a much better option. I assume we can come up with other rules as we continue with the farce” It would be much more difficult to find Oegwipali by myself. At least I can use Flower Hill’s scouting network as well as my own.
He tried to turn the conversation back to his own advantage. “Of course, this all depends on us holding out for a few more days, to make you giving up the information more believable,” Might as well force him to undergo more torment. As much as he hated having to take care of the traitor, he had to admit getting some sort of satisfaction from seeing the whimpering bastard slavering on the floor, insensible from the pain and drugs, desperately trying to not form any words.
“It might be impossible for you, though, if you are more used to a cushy lifestyle amongst the foliage of Flower Hill, instead of a hard one. After all, you were screaming pretty loud when they forced me to walk by the interrogation room.”
Geumsaegi laughed, a lightness turning bitter. “With my positions in the Weasel Unit, with the anti-espionage or investigation units, wouldn’t I…? Let us play on the assumption that I am from Flower Hill. What kind of scout would not be trained in interrogation resistance? Let’s just say that I have screamed my way through several training sessions where I did not even know what the pattern or when the end of the session would be.”
Mulmangcho was silent for a while, blinking. Finally, he spoke. “Are you saying that Flower Hill has a habit of nearly torturing their own citizens to death in order to train them? They did that to you on purpose, and you still follow and worship them?”
“This might actually be easier, since it is only one interrogator, and he needs to rest as well.” It was a half-truth. The interrogators and instructors had taken shifts, not allowing him to sleep through the whipping, the beatings, the electricity, and other things they could think of that would not maim the scouts permanently during training. The oxygen deprivation had been a surprise, but he could still handle it, use it somehow to his advantage. His own countrymen had figured out his weak points, focused on those. Thanks to them, he knew how to breathe through the pain, how to disassociate away and keep his mind intact. But still…after the sessions, they had all been there for him. He had not been alone.
The golden squirrel supposed it was one area the training would have to work on. Granted, they had all known that they would probably be thrown back into a cell naked and alone, or just left alone once the interrogation was finished. But his own countrymen, cruel to help the scouts, could not simply leave any of the scouts laying on the floor. They had bandaged them, given them medicine, food, water. Held and caressed each of them for hours, long past after they had stopped crying and shaking, telling the scouts how proud they were, how sorry they were, how good they were doing. It was almost an incentive to look forward to, or at least an incentive to not get caught. None of the group liked to talk about what had happened in their own interrogation resistance training.
He supposed it had spoiled him. Thrown in alone had caused him to panic in front of his enemy. He would have to get stronger. Still, his body still craved for the warmth of his friends. For them to come to his rescue in the cell, to destroy the wall and the thick bars constraining him, a duck flying to the drag him into a big hug, before leading him out. The medics giving him painkillers, worrying over his wounds. He could not wait to see them again! Surely, they would come before he had to count on the weasels, even if it would work better to his advantage if the weasels found him first.
“So, how is the interrogator? I might know him, depending on what he did.” Mulmangcho still appeared shaken, becoming agape at himself for asking such a question.
“You think you might know him?” This was good. If Mulmangcho knew the weasel, then he might have a chance at knowing what would come next.
“If one is going to have a rebellion, you would need someone experienced in changing people’s minds, if not getting information would of them. We had one or two at Mt. Rock.”
“Hmm.” He did not want to think about it too much. “Experienced, but more experienced in areas where he did not have to keep a victim alive. More used to lower ranking troops, I would think. He wanted to rip out my nails and crush my teeth, with the idea of doing it repeatedly. He thought he could assign lower ranking mice to move or open things for me.” Subconsciously, he licked at where the pliers had grabbed his teeth.
“So, he did not stop to think about how they would have no respect for you if they had to do everything for you?” Mulmangcho moved his hands, briefly glancing down, allowing Geumsaegi to notice how the mouse’s own nails had been clipped short to hinder him from digging himself out of the cell.
“He did not, until I pointed it out.” He could still hear the creaking as his nails almost splintered, ripping out of the nailbed. His breathing quickened, and then leveled out.
“So, a bit of an idiot. Clearly not Jilmunja, at least.”
“He had a penchant for oxygen masks.”
“Oh. It would be Jinmon, then. The coughing combined with the unusual caning locations should cinch it. He also likes to go for the eyes with needles, but he would not dare if you are to be kept alive and intact.”
“So, I should expect more of the same?”
“…yes. His imagination is not the strongest.”
“Good, good. So, we are agreed. That makes what I have to say next far easier.”
“And what the hell is that?”
“About a week after a large typhoon comes through Chambelli Koh and Chand Hadia, the mountains are hit with a massive cold front. I could see it coming over the mountains. It is going to get very cold tonight, colder than it is now…”
“Take off your jacket.”
“Excuse me?”
“Unlike you, I have experience being forced to live in the cold. If we tie or zip our jackets together and sit close to each other, we will be able to limit exposure to the air and share warmth. Easier with a blanket, but if we keep our feet in the straw that should be enough.” The mouse paused, looking disgusted.
“We don’t have to actually sleep on each other during the night.” Geumsaegi was not sure about full on sleeping next to his enemy, no matter the deal they were making. Although, if the mouse was used to sleeping rough without a mattress, and in the cold, it would finally explain how he seemed to know how much it hurt to lie on one's back. They were both survivalists, one trained, one forced to learn naturally.
“Sure…it would probably be bad to sleep in such cold. But there is no guarantee that they will give us blankets or move us someplace warm tomorrow when they come to check on us. But they will be around tomorrow, and we don’t know what would happen, so you might as well rest during the night.”
“Hmm.”
Geumsaegi watched as Mulmangcho split the stack of straw, moving half of it up against the nearby wall and just under it, piling the rest nearby. Their jackets were together, intertwined by their buttons and zippers, creating a larger blanket. The mouse moved, back against the wall, insulated by the straw. Removing his boots, he took off his socks, grimacing as he pulled them over his ears to prevent frostbite. Geumsaegi followed suit. Mulmangcho threw one end of the combined jackets over his shoulders. He glanced over blankly at the squirrel.
Geumsaegi moved, slowly to avoid aggravating his injuries or jarring the makeshift bandages and compresses. He placed the other end of the combined jackets around his own shoulders, and the two pulled the ends together in the front. If they hunched forward a bit, kept their legs and feet in the straw in front of them, then the rapidly cooling air would not be able to touch them. Hopefully. It was still going to be uncomfortable.
Slowly, Geumsaegi moved his tail to the front, allowing it to cross over his own lap, and then over Mulmangcho’s lap. The mouse’s fingers twitched, clearly wanting to rip off the tail of his enemy in reciprocation for losing his own. But the warmth it would provide to allow him to survive the cold night, flurries already drifting in through the window, was far more important. The space under the tarp was beginning to trap and contain the body heat of the two, even before they would be forced to shift closer together later in the night.
They sat, quietly, waiting out the storm as the temperature dropped, weasels continuing on unaware of their plight.
Mulmangcho was unsurprised when Geumsaegi finally returned to sleep, exhausted.
The security guard adjusted his glasses as he quietly rushed down the hallways. Having glanced outside, he could see that the snow was pouring down. The other weasels paid it no mind, having grown used to the snow in the mountains. It was not even as cold as it usually was.
But he knew. He was smarter than the others, and their inaction had proven that he had chosen the correct leader. The mountaintop cells had open windows, that he knew to think of even after his shift was over. Luckily, the one the important prisoners had been placed into would be somewhat sheltered from the worst of the winds, but it would still be cold. Perhaps, even cold enough to kill them.
Past the guard at the entrance, he pattered down the corridor to peak in through the bars.
Oh? What is this? He had heard the rumors, but now he had proof. Both of the prisoners were alive, huddled together asleep next to each other. Enough covering on them to prevent them from freezing to death, ears and limbs covered so they would not even get frostbite.
Good. My master will love to hear about this. He took a few discrete photos with his glasses. Surely, if the two supposedly bitter enemies were huddled together, then it must be a secret romance? Something they could use.
Reidoesstuff on Chapter 1 Thu 13 Jun 2024 01:09AM UTC
Comment Actions
CeilingKarasu on Chapter 1 Thu 13 Jun 2024 01:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
CeilingKarasu on Chapter 16 Wed 13 Aug 2025 09:33PM UTC
Comment Actions