Barracks Bitch

[Assmunch]

7 hours ago, laguyinhou said:

Thanks for the chapter. Excellent writing as always. 

Thanks bud.  Building these characters for what’s ahead puts me on a roller coaster ride as well.  The gritty reality of early military life truly does define the men they eventually become.  Rites of passage come in many forms, and as you well know the military provides many of those.  Some are not welcome, and all are best earned through hardship.  The mechanics of how that functions on a personal level fascinates me, which I always hope comes through in my story.  If I can provide a stirring of emotion and desire to sympathize I’m happy.  

[barebottomslut]

This reminds me of the time i was the barracks slut. Started with just my roomate, we shared a room between the two of us and four rooms shared a common kitchen/shower area. Then it eventually spread, and anytime anyone struck out at the bar or wanted to release a load they always came knocking. it wasnt unusual for me to wake up with someone sticking a cock in my mouth or playing with my ass. the best was in the morning when i was instructed to wait in the shower area on my knees with my mouth open. Sometimes i was fed cock other times they would piss in my mouth before showering. Loved that posting and being the barracks whore.

[Assmunch]

3 hours ago, barebottomslut said:

This reminds me of the time i was the barracks slut. Started with just my roomate, we shared a room between the two of us and four rooms shared a common kitchen/shower area. Then it eventually spread, and anytime anyone struck out at the bar or wanted to release a load they always came knocking. it wasnt unusual for me to wake up with someone sticking a cock in my mouth or playing with my ass. the best was in the morning when i was instructed to wait in the shower area on my knees with my mouth open. Sometimes i was fed cock other times they would piss in my mouth before showering. Loved that posting and being the barracks whore.

Fuck bro… awesome!  So glad your brothers gave you what you needed and you took care of them too.  That’s how it should work.  

[Assmunch]

SUNDAY 1600 HOURS

 

“Hey, where’s Weeble?”  Troll called out to the brothers who were finishing up the housekeeping in the barracks.

“He went to the gym this morning.  Must be out doing personal stuff.”  Mini Hulk replied.  “He asked me to go with him at 0930, but I had to wait for the phone to call my girl.  When I got to the gym he was already gone.”

“He knew we had to do the barracks this afternoon.  And he should have waited for you.” Troll answered, a little worried.  “Weeble never bails.  Why’d he go alone, he knows we have to go in pairs? If he had something to do he would have said something.”  In fact, Weeble was rarely by himself.  He hung around spreading his happy smiles all over the place like he just loved every minute of being in the brotherhood, even when the day sucked balls.  “I’m gonna talk to Assmunch.”

He found Assmunch cleaning the shower room, wiping down the handles in just his briefs.

“Hey Troll.  Everything good in the bay?”  Assmunch said after a quick glance.

“Yeah Assmunch, almost done.  Potter’s got the randoms almost done with their end.  He found a bag of Doritos in one of the empty lockers.  Battles and Lenger are stuffing their face in the day room.  Hey, no one’s seen Weeble since 0930.  Mini Hulk was supposed to meet him at the gym but he said Weeble was gone when he got there.  Did Weeble tell you he would be out all day?”  Troll asked.

Assmunch tilted his head.  “He didn’t say anything.  He told me he was going to the gym, but said he’d be back by lunch.  I should have noticed.  He’s had a lot on his mind, maybe he just needed a quiet place to think.  But someone should be with him.  Anyone else missing?  I’ll take care of his space.”

“Nah, I’ll do it.  I like the little guy.  Keeps everyone’s spirits up.  Everyone else is here, Assmunch.  He’s alone.”  Troll said.

“Shit.   Yeah, he brightens everyone’s day.  But let’s stop calling him little though.  I think he’s heard it enough.  I want him to think of himself as more than the little guy in the Bravos.”  Assmunch said.

Troll blinked.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Besides, he doesn’t act little.  I should have thought of that.  Used to get called fat a lot in high school, didn’t like it even as a joke from my friends. It gets old.”

“Right. We can fuck with anyone else, and even fuck with Weeble on other stuff.  Just not the little part.”

“Clear Assmunch.”  Troll agreed.

“Let’s wait until evening chow, see if he shows up.  He won’t miss that. But we need to tell Lenger.”  Assmunch decided.

Troll nodded and went back to the bay to do Weeble’s area.

Sleeper and Zeus came into the shower room passing Troll as they walked.  “Assmunch, you mind if we take a shower?  Mopping the floors got us sweaty and I smell like cleaner.”  Sleeper asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.  I haven’t done that one down there yet, but you have to share.  And wash the soap and shampoo down the drain.”  Assmunch said.  He took the opportunity to watch them shuck off their shorts, and Zeus peeled his tight tee shirt off his bulging, scarred torso.  They were smiling and whispering to each other, which made Assmunch happy.  Sleeper’s perfect ass still had it’s mesmerizing effect on him.  Of course, Zeus’s ass was beautiful too, wide and thick like the powerful hind of a charging rhino.  Nothing about Zeus was small, and it made sense proportionally and aesthetically that his legs and ass had to be substantial to power that massive body.

“Watch the door for a sec, bro?”  Sleeper said.

“Sure thing bud.”  Assmunch replied, walking over to the opening.  He averted his eyes to give them a moment, using the time to pick up their clothes and set them on the slatted wooden bench just outside the shower opening.  “You’re good.”  He said while he folded their clothes.   He chuckled, what the fuck was he doing that for, they were dirty?  Habits.  He finished anyway, just to give them a little bit more time.  These private moments were rare.  He really couldn’t be happier for them and loved seeing the stolen moments of kindness pass between them with grins and usually a slightly cocked eyebrow.  Zeus’s eyes rarely left Sleeper’s face or body.  Assmunch was normally one of the first to wake in the mornings, his internal alarm clock opening his eyes a few minutes before his set time.  He’d watch Zeus wake up and the very first thing he did every time was look over at Sleeper’s bunk and smile.  Then he’d lean over and very gently rub Sleeper’s shoulder, or his head and lean over to utter “Wake up, Addison.” In the sweetest voice imaginable.  On those occasions, Sleeper would blink his eyes, yawn, and immediately when he saw Zeus a big smile broke over his entire face.  Then he’d remember where he was, and dial it back to a regular smile and go all tough guy Addison.  But for that brief moment you couldn’t miss how into each other they were.

When he turned the corner again, they were showering normally with that efficient and fast scrub down you learned early on in the military.  They took a moment to direct the hard shower spray with a hand and foot sweeps to move the soap and suds towards the drain then shut the water off.

“All done Assmunch, thanks!”  Sleeper said.

“Hey if you see Lenger, send him in, okay.  I’ll be done in a few minutes.”  Assmunch said.

“Sure thing, bro.  C’mon Gabriel.”  Sleeper sauntered over to the opening shaking his incredible pale muscle ass around the corner.  That handsome arrogant fucker looked like a prancing horse and he wasn’t even trying.  Kevin had to see that just once in his life, Assmunch decided.  It was a fucking work of art.

“Thanks Andrew.”  Zeus smiled.  Shit…every fucking time that smile melted Assmunch inside.  Kevin had to see that too.

He was just finished cleaning that last shower section when Lenger stepped around the corner.

“Sleeper said you wanted to see me?  I know I don’t have to check your shower, Assmunch.” The Petty Officer said.

Assmunch smiled in thanks.  “Nah, that’s not it, but look if you want.  It’s Weeble.  He didn’t take MiniHulk to the gym with him this morning, and he’s been gone all day.  I’m not reporting him…just worried.  It’s not like him.  What should we do?”  Assmunch knew what he would do, but Lenger was Stick Leader.  He had to be informed and Assmunch wasn’t going to step on his command.

“Let’s get Potter.  I know what I SHOULD do, which is report it to Sergeant Airborne or the Cadre.  Right now, he’s just off alone, nothing that needs to bring the place to alert.  But let’s see what Potter thinks first.”

“Yeah, another brain sounds good.”  Assmunch agreed.  Between the three of them, hopefully there’d be a solution that didn’t involve the Cadre.

 

***************

Sunday 1630 hrs.

 

“Fuck, he’s not supposed to go anywhere without a buddy.  You think the Cadre took him in?”  Potter said.

Assmunch scowled.  “For six hours?  Take him for a simple Disciplinary Action?  And his first?  No, I don’t think so.  And they’d give him over to Lenger.  They’d run him or he’d be sponge washing the outside of the barracks.  Something isn’t right.  Sergeant Airborne is going to be here in 20 to get us for chow.”

Lenger looked torn.  “Assmunch, we have to tell Sergeant Airborne.  What can we do?  Do you think he took off?”

Assmunch thought.  Maybe before last night, before the bus ride back Weeble might have just ditched to get booted.  “He was in a great mood this morning.  He was going to go with MiniHulk to the gym, he was never intending on going alone.  No, Weeble wouldn’t ditch.”

Potter breathed.  “Assmunch, there’s not much we can do.  You want to search the entire base?  And as soon as we start asking questions it’s going to get the Cadre’s attention, and then there’ll be questions about why we didn’t report it.  Lenger could get booted over this.”

“Fuck, Potter, I don’t care.  I don’t need the tab.  Just figured it might get me preference for a nice posting.”  Lenger said much to Assmunch’s admiration.

Assmunch closed his eyes to think.  He took a few deep breaths finding that mental clarity Major Collins was teaching him.  His eyes flew open.

“Major Collins.  Potter, do you think you could get ahold of him?”  Assmunch blurted out.

“I… I’m not sure, Assmunch.  You’d probably have a better chance than I would.  Why me?”  Potter asked.

“Marines.  If the shit hits the fan, you and he can play it off like a Marine asking another Superior Marine for some advice before Jump Week, or some bullshit.”  Assmunch threw out.

Potter wasn’t convinced.  “I’ll do it, brother, if you really want.  But you know if we get an officer involved it’s out of our hands.  And I’m going to ignore that you just suggested that Marines lie about anything.”

Assmunch took a moment to really think about it.  Major Collins wasn’t connected to the 507th, he was here for some other reason, that much was clear.  So he didn’t HAVE to say anything to the Cadre if he didn’t want to, especially if all they were asking for was his advice.  “No, we call him.  He’ll know the right way to handle this.  And you won’t have to lie, Potter.  I wouldn’t ask that of you.  I wouldn’t lie myself if it came down to it.  And he’ll probably just tell us to inform our Sergeant Airborne.”

Potter shook his head.  “Lenger, you okay with this?  You agree this is the right way to go?”

Lenger looked at Assmunch, then at Potter.  “I have to be honest here.  If it were someone else asking me to do this Assmunch, I’d say no without blinking.  This doesn’t make me comfortable at all.  This is something for the Cadre to handle.  But this is your guy, and you always seem to know what you’re doing.  I’m going to trust you, Harris.  Potter, try to get ahold of Major Collins.  Let’s see what he says.”

Potter got up to go to the phone in the day room.  “He’s going to say we have to tell the Cadre, you know that right?”  Lenger said with a sympathetic look.

Assmunch sighed.  “Probably.  It’s what we should do, and honestly if Weeble isn’t back by form up for chow, we don’t have a choice.  Sergeant Airborne will do a head count.  If he’s not back by then, you have to tell Sergeant Airborne before he takes the count.”

Lenger gave a sad grin.  “It’s not the end of the world, Andrew.  It’s his first DA, he can still make his jumps.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, brother.  Weeble’s never far from the brotherhood.  Demon, I could see him losing track of time, doing something crazy.   Wanker and Bootlicker, sure…they’re like a couple of raccoons getting into shit they shouldn’t.  But not Weeble.  His one thing is he doesn’t want to be a fuck-up.  If he isn’t back it’s because he CAN’T be back.” Assmunch spelled it out.  “Which means something happened.”

 

**************

WEEBLE

 

He lay there long after they left, somehow both grateful and disappointed that they hadn’t done what they said and shot him in the head.  He would have welcomed a bullet.  The darkness of the cold shed matched his thoughts.  They’d locked the door behind them and left him exactly as they’d taken him, cuffed and hooked laid facedown on the plywood shelf in his own now dried vomit, his sweats and briefs now around his ankles.

Why had they locked the door?  Why had they left him there?

He couldn’t feel his hands or his arms anymore.  He refused to think about his ass.  Thinking about it only made him seize up in pain when his torn and ravaged sphincter contracted. Small amounts of light bled through where the roof met the walls above.

Why had they locked the door?  Why had they left him there?

His throat was raw and sore from the repeated abuse and the acidic bile he’d thrown up.  It was almost impossible to swallow through the pain.  The cold plywood felt like a small comfort against his ear.  The afternoon was quiet except for the occasional wind.

He wondered if he would bleed to death, if Barnell had ruined him so bad he’d bleed out slowly.  He couldn’t tell if he was still bleeding back there but he knew he had been before.  The warmth of blood on his butt cheeks as Barnell thrust into him, the stickiness as their flesh met, the coppery smell that mixed with the odor of vomit that lingered in the air were all evidence of the damage Barnell had done.  Thank God Barnell hadn’t been large.  Victor would certainly have died from internal damage.  He sobbed again.  Would that have been so bad?  Dying?  He should have fought back harder.  He should have been more aware of his surroundings instead of daydreaming.  He should have never let his guard down. He should have waited for MiniHulk to go with him to the gym.  He should have slammed that door in Barnell’s face.  Victor examined every minute and was able to find every mistake he’d made before they’d got to the shed.  He lay passive in the rear seat of the vehicle instead of kicking out the window, or kicking Barnell in the head while he drove.  He could have tried to get his arms around his front and given himself a fighting chance.  He should have seen the signs that he was a target.  He’d put himself in a situation that resulted in the attack.  He didn’t fight back hard enough when they first knocked him to the ground.  He should have rolled and leapt to his feet to meet the attack.  Even if he couldn’t fight off two of them he could have run.  He should have shouted.  It was no one’s fault but his.  If his stomach wasn’t already empty, he would have thrown up all over again.

Why had they locked the door?  Why had they left him there?

 

Why had they left him there?

 

To come back.  And either do it all over again, or take care of him once and for all in the darkness of night  Probably both.

 

He jerked.  No!  Please No!  Even though it sent a searing pain through his ass, he tried to reach the floor with his feet.  He squirmed and writhed causing more pain in his wrists and shoulders.  He was too small, his legs not long enough as they swung in empty air.  He began to cry again even after thinking he had no more tears to shed.  He cried through the pain.

He forced his head into the pool of vomit and pushed, scooting his body the tiniest inch backwards.  They were coming back.  When?  How long was it since they left?  He did it again, moving just the barest bit.  His breath came in ragged sobs.  Another inch and a crippling pain stabbed through his shoulders and back.  His arms.  Locked up behind him and hooked.  What had they put him on?  He tried to think.

The image of the shelves inside the shed flashed in his mind, the picture of when they first dragged him inside.  An extension cord, looped.  A hook, in a ‘J’, straight out, mounted on the side of the shelves.  The cuffs were hooked over it.  He moved his numb hands, feeling the metal cuffs bite into his wrists and sending a new spike of agony down his arms.  He felt the hook, examined it with his difficult to move fingers.  Cold metal.  A few inches long, maybe three.  Two?  Curved.  The ground couldn’t be far away.  If he could get his hips back more he could get his toes on the ground to support his weight enough to work his wrists off the hook.  He tried again, this time pulling on his wrists as he tried to scoot back.  If his wrists broke, they broke.  He couldn’t think about that.

He shifted into cold desperation as he grunted and fought to release his hands.  He was probably causing damage.  He didn’t care.  It took him far too long to wedge himself backwards centimeters at a time.  Every movement backwards raised his arms at a higher angle causing his nerves to flare up with throbbing molten torment.  He suffered the now constant but duller stinging ache in his ass as a secondary concern, welcoming the pain as a test of his resolve to live.  HE provided this pain, HE controlled it as a tool for focus and determination.  His anger flared.

“FUCK YOU!”  He screamed out with a final roar of challenge that burned through every feeling of inadequacy, every doubt, every recrimination and self-persecution.

When his toes finally made contact with the floor he was gasping for breath, but the exhilaration of being so close to escape forced him onward.

“GAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH”. He screamed out as he stood on his toes and pushed with his head against the shelf while pulling his hands up the metal hook to release the cuffs from their trap.  So close.  Almost.  Another millimeter.

The second the cuffs slid over the top of the hook Victor collapsed to the floor, his head slamming into the wall beside the locked door.

He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and bask in the relief. But he couldn’t allow himself to rest for long as thoughts of his two attackers returning forced him to move once again.  He rolled over to the side then onto his back and spun until his legs faced the shelves.  Placing his feet as high as he could on the two by four vertical frame he lifted his hips to push his hands down below his ass.  This was going to be the hard part.  He folded his torso to decrease the distance from his shoulders to his hip as he fought to work his arms up under his ass.  He laughed with an insane cackle when he said a prayer of thanks that he didn’t have an ass like Sleeper’s.  First time in his life he’d been thankful for not having a muscle ass.  His tiny little butt was going to help him today.  And they’d done him a favor by leaving his sweats down, there was no fabric for the cuffs to get caught on and make the fight more difficult.  He no longer cared about the pain in his wrists.  His shoulders and arms felt instant warmth and relief but hadn’t yet recovered from the long period of immobilization.  His nerves were reawakening with flares of stinging and prickling fire.  His adrenaline was surging and with it the torment to his body receded.  When he finally worked his wrists past his hips and ass, he relaxed his legs and folded himself in half with his hands behind his thighs.  He brought his arms up and pulled them over his feet.

He only allowed himself to celebrate his success for 30 seconds to regain some energy after the exhausting strain he’d just endured, lying on his back taking deep gasping breaths, his cuffed hands resting above his head.

He spun around, still on his back until his feet were pointed at the door.  He put everything he had into a two footed kick at the sturdy frame.  It was a basic shed door, constructed of two by fours and a sheet of plywood.  The darkness of the shed was not absolute and small bits of sunlight bled through several cracks where the walls met the roof.  He kicked hard.  The door didn’t have a handle, so it must be secured with a latch on the outside.  A simple metal latch with a ring for a padlock most likely, attached with screws to the plywood.  With enough force, the screws would rip through the wood and tear the latch away.  He kicked again. And again, flashes of light coming through the edges every time the door flexed outward..

It was taking too long.  It would eventually bust, but his kicks towards the bottom weren’t transferring enough force to the latch area.  He climbed to his feet, reached down to pull up his sweats and took a few steps back.  He mentally braced himself to shoulder the door with as much impetus and weight as he could manage.  He pictured the latch placed near the center of the edge.  He remembered how the door opened to the left from the outside, so the hinges were on his right.  He’d hit the left side, toward the middle, right where the latch should be.

“YOU FUCKING PIECE OF FUCKING SHITTY FUCKING SHIT!”  He screamed as he ran and lunged with his shoulder.  The latch, already weakened from his repeated kicks, tore loose after only a slight resistance.  The sudden daylight blinded him as he soared through the air and plowed into the dormant winter grass and dirt outside the shed.  He laughed with his face into the dirt.  “Fuck you motherfucker.”  He said, still laughing.  He didn’t know why he was laughing.  He could run now.  The image of his beaten body running across the base, his hands in cuffs, sent an alarm through his brain.  That would draw attention.  He be stopped, someone would inform the Cadre, there would be questions, an investigation.  Part of him wanted that to happen, wanted Barnell and his psychotic buddy to roast and rot in prison.  But it would also make him a target for all the questions he didn’t want to answer.  Everything would come out, everyone would know what had been done to him.  And there was the good chance Barnell and his friend would talk their way out of it with easily crafted denials and excuses for their whereabouts.  Sure, Victor’s savagely raped body was clear evidence that something had happened, but there was nothing that pointed to his two attackers.  Victor wasn’t completely present mentally after a while and wasn’t even sure if either of them had ejaculated to leave behind DNA evidence.  And at least the other guy was an MP which meant his buddies would be the ones doing the investigation. Just the thought of doctors and nurses examining his mouth and ass, poking, looking, maybe even taking pictures… Victor dry heaved with jerky spasms with the realization that would be another rape, another intimate violation made even worse because he willingly put himself in their hands. There would be arguments about whether he remembered the details correctly, accusations of willing participation, why hadn’t he gone with another soldier to the gym?  Could it be because he was trying to sneak off alone to meet someone for rough sex that just got out of control?  Did he like it at first?  Was this just regret after things had gone too far?  Having to tell the story over and over again.  Was he protecting his illicit lover by accusing Barnell and the MP?  Each question forcing him to relive his terror, his pain, his torment at their hands again and again.  He imagined the false sympathy of the investigator saying “We want to help you, just be honest with us, tell us the truth.  You have to admit, this sounds far fetched.”

He had to get the cuffs off.  He tried to pull them over his folded hands but couldn’t.  He got up and went to look in the shed.  Maybe there was something slippery he could use.  With the light from the door he looked around.  He needed oil, lubricant, even some kind of glue.  Anything wet.

There were some canisters on the back shelves.  He couldn’t see a way to work the lids off.  There was wood, construction materials, a couple pieces of equipment but no motors that required oil.  Some chain link fence repair tools.  A couple of bags of concrete.  He tried working the cuffs down again but couldn’t get past his thumb knuckle.  He glanced around again.

Vomit.  It might work.  He went to his knees.  The large puddle wasn’t dry, still mushy with chunks of cereal and eggs mixed in with the stomach acid and milk.  He slathered it on his hands thickly then pulled at the cuff on his left wrist while squeezing his hand together as crushed as he could make it.  It was working.  For the second time he was grateful for his small size.  His constant and deliberate effort managed to slip the cuff past his thumb knuckle and his hand was free.  He immediately realized he was still in the shed and could be trapped again too easily.  He quickly slathered more of his puke on his right hand and ran outside.  Now that he knew what he had to do, he had the right cuff off in less than a minute.  It hurt, but the pain was nothing to him now.  It was all pain. Everything was pain.  So fuckin what?  It took pain to survive and embracing it fully was the only way.

Should he keep the cuffs, just in case?  As proof?  How many sets was an MP issued?  Were they identified and registered to him?  What time was it?  The overcast sky gave him no way to judge the angle of the sun.  It was afternoon, but how late?  He didn’t know where he was, what part of the base.  He wasn’t Infantry MOS, hadn’t been here for his post Basic training like most of the other Bravos so he had no idea what the different areas were or where.  He looked around the horizon, hoping to see buildings he might recognize.  He saw the training towers in the far distance, three, maybe four miles away, and began to run.  The punishment to his body settled into deep aching - his ribs where he’d been kicked, his face where Barnell had kneed him, his ass, his balls, his wrists.  Thankfully his shoulders had returned to normal feeling now that they were in their proper position and alignment.  He ran, and as his legs pumped the rage began to build, increasing with every stride.

 

BARRACKS 1645 Hrs

 

Almost everyone was in place outside the barracks, lined up double file to wait for their weekend Sergeant Airborne.

“Is that Weeble?”  Shark asked.

Assmunch whipped around to look where Shark pointed.  Thank God, it was Weeble, running with a limp in his gait, holding his left ribs.  They weren’t required to be in uniform outside of duty hours, but if they weren’t their clothes had to be clean and orderly.  Weeble had his sweats on, and he was soaked.

“Thirteen minutes, Weeble!  Better hurry.  Glad you made it.”  Assmunch said as Weeble ran by, not looking at them or smiling and instead he seemed to have a look of determined fury he’d never seen Weeble elicit.  Assmunch left his spot to follow Weeble inside the barracks.

He saw Weeble at his locker removing his padlock.  A pair of silver handcuffs lay on his bunk.

“Victor, what’s going on?”  Assmunch asked.

“Nothing.”  Weeble’s answer was a short bark.  “Leave me alone, Brickmann.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

Brickmann?  “Okay brother.  Just remember to sign back in before getting in formation.”  Assmunch replied.  As he walked out the door he glanced back and saw Weeble heading for the showers, his change of clothes in his hands.

He got back in formation and said to Sleeper “Something’s up with Weeble.  And he had handcuffs with him.”

In a whisper, Sleeper replied “Where’d he get handcuffs?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t ask.  He just about ordered me to leave him alone.  Whatever is going on, it’s not good.”  Assmunch said.

Assmunch was chewing over it in his head.  Major Collins had said what they all expected, that if they were that concerned they should inform the Cadre, adding that’s what they were there for.  Also, Lenger was required to inform the Cadre that Weeble hadn’t been accompanied by a buddy to the gym but it was up to him if Weeble managed to return before chow, and that he’d better be ready to answer for not only allowing Weeble to leave unaccompanied, but also for not knowing his whereabouts.

“Fuck!”  He said out loud.

Sleeper turned around again.  “What?”

Assmunch growled.  “The in/out sheet.  I told him to sign back in, but it’s going to show he’s the only one to sign in now.”

“I’ll take care of it.”  Sleeper said.  Sergeant Airborne would be here in just a few minutes.  “You think any of the Cadre saw him running back?”

“Aw hell!  I don’t know.  If they did, and the sign in has a different time he’s fucked, and Lenger’s fucked.

“Wanker and I signed back in at 1540.”  Bootlicker said from their left.  “Just change our 5’s to a 6, then Weeble’s sign in right below ours will look fine.  Make it look good, or do you just want me to do it?”  He asked.

I breathed a sigh of relief.  “Yeah Bootlicker, you have better skills with that sort of thing.  Hurry.”

Weeble and Bootlicker came out together, Weeble looking serious but not furious like before. There looked to be a significant bruise on the left side of his face.  Had he gotten into a fight?

Bootlicker looked pleased with himself.  If anyone knew how to get away with something sneaky, it was Bootlicker and his pet Wanker.  Wanker had probably figured out a way to jack off in every corner of the barracks by the third day.  He’d also found quite a bit of contraband hidden up in the ceiling tiles above the bunks that had been left behind by previous classes at Airborne.  Some skin mags, a bunch of personal items that were probably stolen, a couple of blank passes and even a fucking black hat.  Probably years of discarded or stashed items all over the place.  Someone stole a Cadre’s black hat. No one wanted to get caught with that and then probably couldn’t figure out a way to sneak it into their gear as a souvenir… or maybe they just wanted to leave it behind for the next class.  Only Wanker would think to look up inside the ceiling.  Raccoons, both of them.  Assmunch told Wanker to leave that shit up there, any of that shit except the skin mags would get them dismissed immediately if it was found in their possession.  The skin mags did get passed around secretly though, a couple Penthouse, a Cheri, and three Hustlers.  They were still contraband and against Basic Airborne Course Standard Operating Procedures and everyone understood if they got caught with them they took the hit.  Wanker became the official Airborne Barracks Librarian, chasing down overdue pornography and handing out penalties which was usually loss of porn privilege for a specified period.

“Sleeper, tell Zeus to talk to Weeble when we get back.  I don’t think Weeble will tell Zeus to fuck off.”  Assmunch said.

“Roger that.”  Sleeper said just as their Sergeant Airborne walked up.

 

Sergeant Airborne started as he stepped into double time:

Here we go!

              Here we go!

All the way!

              All the way!

Here we go!

              Here we go!

Every day!

              Every day!

Sign my name on the dotted line

              Sign my name on the dotted line

All I do is the double time

              All I do is the double time

Up the hill

              Up the hill

Down the hill

             Down the hill

On the hill

             On the hill

Up the hill

             Up the hill

AIRBORNE!

             AIRBORNE!

HOOAH!

             HOOAH!

 

You could hear other Companies of students shouting out other cadences down the street.

Chow was it’s usual stuff fest.  You didn’t have the luxury of having a relaxing chat over a lovely meal in the dining facility.  If any Black Hat saw your tray empty and you weren’t moving already to return it, you were ordered to do it.  No one needed to be ordered anymore.  Wait in line, silent, get your tray filled (you actually had a couple choices in mains, sides and desert, which was totally cool), scarf it down, return your tray and go outside.  Sleeper, Troll, MiniHulk, Chunk and surprisingly Holler got double helpings on their tray.  Zeus tripled his, as usual and the cooks behind the line didn’t blink.  Big boys needed plenty of fuel.  Dessert was fucking peach cobbler… and damn it was EXCELLENT.  Assmunch regretted not getting a double of that.  As they individually finished they went outside to form up to wait for Sergeant Airborne to march them back to the barracks.

When everyone except Sleeper and Zeus had formed up, Lenger nudged Potter.  Sergeant Airborne was still in the dining facility.  “You smokers are going to police the smoking area when we get back.  Someone keeps throwing their butts on the ground.  And you dippers and chewers use a fucking can.  Stop spitting that nasty shit on the gravel.”

“It’s not us, Corporal.  It’s some asshole from one of the other floors.”  One of the randoms answered.

“Doesn’t matter when it’s our name on the duty roster.  You’re out there enough, keep it clean.  Or figure out who’s doing it and Lenger will take care of it.”

“You want us to snitch?”

“Fuck yes I want you to snitch.  They aren’t in Alpha Company, fuck them.  Especially when they trash an area designated to us.  You let us know who, and I’ll dump every wad of used chew I can find into their pillowcase.  Just because you’re Army doesn’t mean you need to put up with getting shit on, and that’s exactly what they’re doing - shitting on you because it’s not their problem and they don’t have to keep it clean.  I’m sure as hell not going to let Lenger get reamed out because of it.”  Potter REALLY didn’t like assholes.  Sleeper and Potter got along great, like twins.  Sleeper hated assholes too.

Soon after, Sleeper and Zeus preceded Sergeant Airborne out the dining facility door.

They double timed it back to the barracks.  Sergeant Airborne took a quick glance at the in/out sheet at the CQ desk, then walked away towards the Cadre area.  Guess everything looked fine to him. Bootlicker probably already knew how to forge the Sergeant’s signature too.

Once everyone was in the billeting bay they relaxed.  All the randoms went to the day room to watch a movie.  Their favorites were Aliens or Full Metal Jacket.  They’d watched those two enough times to wear the VHS tape out and shout as a group the best lines.  “This is my rifle!  There are many like it, but this one is mine…”.  And “Why don’t you put her in charge!” And  “In case you’re not keeping up with current events, we just got our asses kicked!”

The Bravos all stayed behind to study not needing to see any of the movies again.

“Zeus…” Sleeper said.

Zeus nodded and walked over to Weeble who was laying on his bunk staring at the ceiling tiles, uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself, and even more telling - unoccupied with any task.

From a distance it looked like a one sided conversation, Zeus barely moved while Weeble started with some angry objection and turned away from Zeus onto his side.  Assmunch was glancing over trying not to appear like he was paying close attention, but he was.  Zeus reached out and put a gentle hand on Weeble’s upper arm.  Weeble tried to shrug him off, but Zeus wouldn’t allow it.  Finally Zeus got up off the bunk and leaned over to scoop Weeble up in his arms.  Weeble tried fighting himself out of Zeus’s hold, but Zeus just pulled him in tighter, whispering something in his ear, and then Weeble curled up and pushed his face into Zeus’s big chest.  Zeus lowered his head and nuzzled Weeble’s face, walking toward the exit door.  Weeble looked especially small and frail in Zeus’s arms.  Assmunch exchanged a look with Sleeper, who shrugged.  Zeus would figure it out, and if it was anything that needed Assmunch to intervene, Zeus would tell him.

Assmunch was talking with Bootlicker about the trickier parts of turning your parachute into the wind for your landing, having Bootlicker explain it again with all the things to expect.  Their first jump would be tomorrow.  They’d get instruction first, probably have to demonstrate donning their equipment and other skills to the satisfaction of the Cadre as well as answer questions thrown at them.  There was much that had to happen before they were even permitted on their ride.  But tomorrow was supposed to be sunny and clear, a perfect day to earn your wings.

Zeus came back in the door, an angry look on his face.  Assmunch left Bootlicker with “Thanks bro, gotta take care of this I think.”

Sleeper met him in the center aisle and they walked together to meet Zeus.

“Andrew, it’s bad.”  Zeus said. It was difficult to determine what Zeus meant by that because Zeus’s threshold of bad was a lot lower than just about anyone else’s.  But the anger on his face had all the Bravos ready to go to war.  It had to be truly bad.

It was worse than anything they could have imagined.  Assmunch wanted to cry along with Weeble’s tear-filled recital of the events after the gym.  Zeus sat behind Weeble, his arms wrapped snugly around the smaller man, and boy did that look like a great place to be during the retelling.  Assmunch wished he had a set of Zeus’s arms wrapped around him listening to the sick, vile things they did to Weeble.

“So you think they were going to come back?”  Assmunch asked.

Victor nodded.

“Victor, are you okay with bringing Potter and Battles in on this?  I understand if you don’t, but something has to be done.  They’ve both seen some awful shit. And you should probably let Lenger check you out if you don’t want to see Doc and stir up a hornet’s nest.  We’ll do it whatever way you want, bud.”  Assmunch kept his voice gentle and filled with understanding.

Victor looked up at Zeus, who nodded.

“Sure, Andrew.  It’s okay.”  Victor replied.  He accepted that he’d placed himself in their hands.  And none of them had ever done or said anything except treated him in a way that made him feel like they would do anything for him.  And if Zeus said it was okay, then he’d do it how Zeus said.

“Sleeper, let’s get them out here.  We need a plan.”  Assmunch had already decided there was going to be some non judicial punishment for those two.  His only question, or rather reluctance, was just how far to take it.  There was a line he didn’t want to cross.  He wondered if he’d have a choice.

Potter, Battles and Lenger joined them.

“Sleeper filled us in, you don’t have to repeat it, Victor.  It’s hard enough telling it once.”  Potter said.  “I have some questions, and I need you to think hard.  What makes you think they were coming back?”  Potter didn’t use a soft, touchy-feely voice like Assmunch.  He wasn’t here to soothe or deal with feelings.  That was Assmunch’s job, and it looked like Zeus was doing a great job of helping with that.  After what Sleeper told him, he was here for one thing: figure out a way to remove that filth from the U.S. Army, as painfully as possible.  If this was a battlefield, he and his buddies would be figuring out which one of them was going to deliver the bullet or how they were going to hang them out on the next patrol.

“They left me handcuffed and hooked up, then locked the door of the shed when they left.  They weren’t goin to leave me for someone else to find that way, my sweats down around my ankles, couldn’t move, dried blood in my ass. Too many questions were gonna be asked.  He left his handcuffs, prolly MP issue.  He was gonna get those back.”  Victor answered.

“Sounds about right.  They were either going to wait for dark and get you into a vehicle to take you somewhere and kill you, or do it all again THEN get you in a vehicle to take you somewhere and kill you.”

Victor jerked noticeably.  “They said somethin when they were carryin me into the shed.  Somethin bout ‘the other one’ like they done this before.”

“Were they in uniform?” Potter asked next.

Victor nodded.  “One of em was.  An MP.  He called the one in workout clothes Barnell.  The MP’s name tape said ‘Wilkerson’.  Saw it when he stepped back while I was pukin.”

“Do you know where this shed is?  Can you find it again?”

Victor shrugged.  “I think so.  They said it was over by the armory, and when I looked around to figure out how to get back I saw the jump towers. Between four and five miles from here I figure.”  Victor closed his eyes.  After about ten seconds he opened them again.  “Towers center, a group of hangars to the right, closer to the shed, then on the left a big building three, maybe four stories.”

“That’s HQ for the 507th.  Hangars are maintenance for the 1-28th.  So…. That shed is East Southeast.  Anything else you overheard?”  Potter said.

Victor thought, going through everything he remembered, every word since he had first been tackled.

“Barnell said I should have gone willinly, that he would have been nice about it, made sure it felt good.  He said he had to report at 1400.  Said I looked like a little kid.  He said they were gonna kill me and throw me into an artillery crater, cover me with a little dirt, and let all the evidence get blown to bits the next time they was practicin. After that, it was just talk about rapin me.”  Victor didn’t seem weak and beaten by the time he finished, he seemed angry, furious, and so unlike his usual self that Assmunch thought he was a different person.

“1400.  Midshift.”  Potter mused.  “Definitely another MP.  I don’t know of another midshift on a Sunday when no one’s working except weekend Sergeants Airborne or Medical.  I guess he could be a Medic.  Midshift ends at 2300.  That’s lights out for us, curfew is 2200 tonight.  He and Wilkerson will be back at the shed tonight, I guarantee it.  And Barnell is driving the bus, so Wilkerson won’t go alone.  Neither one of them will take the chance of trying to handle their victim alone.  They are cowards.  Battles and I got this.  It’s my duty to end this fucker.  I know I don’t have to say this to you four, but Victor, you don’t ever talk about this, none of it, not you getting raped, not who you told, and nothing about this entire day.  Ever.  Do you understand?  You never went to the gym. You got that bruise when you were running and tripped, it knocked you out and that’s why you were late coming back for chow formation.  Picture your route back, figure out a place you would have tripped and fallen behind something or been hidden enough no one saw you,  Imagine it happening in your head, see the thing you hit your head with.  That’s your story for the bruise, and your late return.  You will forget the names.  You will forget the shed.  No one saw you with either of them, there’s absolutely no connection to you, and I can tell you neither of them has told anyone and they’ve completely covered their tracks.  Remember they said ‘the other one’ so they have been careful not to leave anything behind that will point at them. You will forget this day ever happened.  You have a new day that you lived, one you spent largely unconscious.  Corpsman Lenger checked you out and determined you don’t have a concussion that requires medical treatment.  That’s the only way this works.  Did you leave the handcuffs there in the shed?”

Potter just graduated from Corporal Nub to General BigSwingingDick, Assmunch decided after all of that came out so smoothly it was like he had hours to think it through.

Victor shook his head.  “They’re in my locker.”

Potter smiled.  “Good.  Go get them, put them in your pants, go to the latrine and wash those fuckers within an inch of their life, every crack, every crevice, use soap, lots of soap, and hot, hot water.  Got it?  Then bring them to me, wrapped in a paper towel.  Try not to get your hands on them after you’ve got them washed.  Super clean, got it?”

“Got it.”  Victor said.  Then with hesitation  “Am I goin with you?”

Potter took a breath.  “I know you want a piece of them, buddy. But you let Battles and me do what we’re good at, okay?  We know where we’re going.  We know how to do what needs to be done.  We know how to live with it afterwards.”

“Thank you.”  Victor said, no weakness or uncertainty in his voice at all as he looked at each of them with his jaw clenched, a nod, and a steely glint in his eyes. “I’ll never forget you guys for this.  Any of you.”  Victor hugged Zeus’s arms, then pulled them away from his chest to get up and go inside.

Assmunch sat there thinking.  He could see no other way.  Anything else was going to fuck everything to hell and destroy too many lives. And his conscience wouldn’t allow this to go unpunished.  Sure, walking away was always an option, always a consideration but on the scales of justice he had to weigh the fact that they were in a position to put a stop to these feral, rabid beasts in a way that was the most humane for the greatest number of people.  Victor didn’t need to be dragged through an investigation.  Lenger was going to get raked over the coals as an example and probably would have a black mark big enough to make sure he never went anywhere in the Navy, not for allowing a student to go off alone, one of the simplest BACSOP, that resulted in an assault and rape.  Accountability.  Lessons of Command.  An example for future Stick Leaders.  Assmunch and some of the Bravos would probably not be punished judicially, but they might be tossed from the course if for no other reason that missing instruction or flights because a rape investigation trumped putting on a parachute and they’d be sitting in chairs in offices getting grilled and making statements about what they knew before, during, and after.  No, Assmunch wasn’t willing to sacrifice that much for that many in order to send this through the chain the ‘right way’.  And from the looks on their faces, everyone agreed, even Zeus.  Sleeper, he knew, just wanted these fuckers to pay, as harshly as possible.  There was no weighing other considerations.  Lenger might object to Potter’s solution, but he was smart and had figured out what this meant for his career.  Potter had provided a clear, definable path through this mess that may not make them happy, but it reduced the collateral damage to zero.  Assmunch wanted to have a long talk with Potter some day about how he was so good at something like this.

“Can you do it?”  He asked Potter.

The grin he got in answer was chilling.  “This is what Marines do, Assmunch.  And we are very, VERY good at it.  I learned a lot in Iraq, some of the most important stuff isn’t in the instruction manuals. One of the things I learned is that there are soldiers who don’t think twice about fucking other soldiers over, and that ends up getting good people killed.”

“When we wake up tomorrow, tonight never happened.”  Assmunch said to Sleeper and Zeus.  Zeus just returned his look with a hard gaze.  “I’m going with them.”

A shocked look of concern froze on Sleeper’s face, and Assmunch’s.  “Zeus, you don’t want a part of this.  Stay here.”

Zeus’s eyes never wavered.  “They are very bad men, Andrew.  Very bad.  Very bad.”

Potter shook his head.  “You don’t have our training Zeus.  And what we have to do, you won’t like.”

“Will you hurt them?”  Zeus asked.

“Yeah, a lot of that.”

“Good.  I will hurt them too.  And then I will kill them.” Zeus said. He didn’t grin coldly like Potter.  His face was ice, but his eyes were burning with Godfire.  Those eyes held no forgiveness, no kindness, none of their usual curiosity and innocence. A part of Assmunch was washed with great sadness to see that look.

The five of them sat shocked to silence.  The chill in the evening air penetrated to their bones.

Finally Potter spoke.  “Zeus…Gabriel… you can’t come. You think you want to kill these guys, but when the moment comes it’s not anything like what you think. Your first kill changes you, and there’s a piece of you that dies too. Some guys think it doesn’t matter and can keep going always looking forward, never back so they don’t have to think about what’s gone inside themselves.  I don’t think you can lie to yourself like that, not in the way it would take to make it not matter.  Other guys, like Battles and I, we accept the brutal nature of killing, of ending a life because as much as we don’t like it, it’s sometimes necessary.  There are some who find they enjoy it too much, and they change too and who they were before never comes back.  But all of us…we know we’re killers.  This is not some act of justice, or vengeance or self defense, or following orders.  It’s cold blooded murder.  I can wake up tomorrow and run, eat breakfast, focus on the instructors and the Jumpmaster, come back and sleep just fine.  You won’t.  Two more deaths for me won’t matter.  No matter which way it goes for you, you will dwell on it, relive it, see it again and again on repeat in your head.  You wonder how many times you have to watch him die before he stays dead and goes away.  Before the moment you’re certain.  When the moment comes you’re either high on adrenaline or terrified.  Some guys, their hands shake so bad they can’t pull the trigger.  After that round leaves the barrel the doubts begin to sing.  They sing loud, and they don’t stop.  The image of their body going suddenly lifeless and dropping to the ground stays with you for days after, sometimes weeks.  And this won’t be an enemy bent on killing you first.  This will be two American soldiers, subdued and begging for their lives.  You will have enough opportunities to kill if you see combat.  I hope you don’t.  No one knows who they’re going to be when they come out the other side. This is not for you, not this time, not this way.  You aren’t ready.”

While Potter talked, I saw the angry fire in Zeus’s eyes sputter and die. He lowered his head.   “Okay.”

Sleeper looked at Potter with an intense gratefulness that could almost be felt.

“Sleeper, Zeus… why don’t you go inside and watch over Victor.  I need to have a talk with Assmunch here.”

[daddybear54]

Super intense scene, super powerful writing.

[PERVERSATILE]

Up until about 3 seconds ago I was pretty sure my favorite writers were Chuck Palahniuk, Neal Stephenson & Balzac. You fucked up my trifecta. You are One Bad Ass Literary Beast.

“Human speech is like a cracked drum on which we tap crude melodies for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that would wring tears from the the stars.”- Gustave Flaubert

[laguyinhou]

Holy shit. Amazing writing, amazing chapter. 

[Assmunch]

5 hours ago, PERVERSATILE said:

Up until about 3 seconds ago I was pretty sure my favorite writers were Chuck Palahniuk, Neal Stephenson & Balzac. You fucked up my trifecta. You are One Bad Ass Literary Beast.

“Human speech is like a cracked drum on which we tap crude melodies for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that would wring tears from the the stars.”- Gustave Flaubert

Damn, buddy, that’s high praise.  Thanks, even though I don’t feel I deserve it on that impressive level, it feels good to have you say it.   This episode with Weeble is muddy for me because the elements are far too complex to separate logic and feelings which makes the weave important while at the same time we see a different aspect to each of their personalities.  I easily could have doubled the length of this chapter and delved so much deeper, but felt the focus needed to remain on putting Weeble back together.  But later I will dive into far more of the mental battlefield they have to navigate that far too often leaves men failing to cope with what they have to do.  

[Monorchid]

You should be getting a publisher for this - it rivals Mason Powell's The Brig.

[Assmunch]

1 minute ago, Monorchid said:

You should be getting a publisher for this - it rivals Mason Powell's The Brig.

Maybe when this epic is done, and after a good intense edit.  As a single piece it will need a smoother progression from chapter to chapter, but I admit I have been enjoying doing this chapter by chapter because it allows for a much less pressure filled writing session.  LOL. Thank you, I am truly trying to write my best.  I feel like I have to give you guys a good story with investment because for the time being the sex scenes are few and far between.  But at least I can give you a different sort of excitement in between the spread out sex scenes.

[Assmunch]

2 hours ago, laguyinhou said:

Holy shit. Amazing writing, amazing chapter. 

Thank you man!  

[BoYGaSM]

MY GOODNESS…. It’s rare, so rare to be able to pull a person into your writings SO deeply to FEEEEEEL even a speck of what the reality/feeling really is like when attempting to get the the reader to understand what it’s like..  What Battles has lived, seen, done..  what so many of our brothers have unfortunately experienced!  You have to be one of the only writers to have ignited so much emotion with the word you chose and the way you laid them out and in such a small paragraph of this entire story…. Magnificently done!  Im overwhelmed!  And I feel so Lucky to have stumbled onto your talent and am “gifted” with the opportunity to be able to read your awesome masterpiece of work!  

[Assmunch]

19 hours ago, BoYGaSM said:

MY GOODNESS…. It’s rare, so rare to be able to pull a person into your writings SO deeply to FEEEEEEL even a speck of what the reality/feeling really is like when attempting to get the the reader to understand what it’s like..  What Battles has lived, seen, done..  what so many of our brothers have unfortunately experienced!  You have to be one of the only writers to have ignited so much emotion with the word you chose and the way you laid them out and in such a small paragraph of this entire story…. Magnificently done!  Im overwhelmed!  And I feel so Lucky to have stumbled onto your talent and am “gifted” with the opportunity to be able to read your awesome masterpiece of work!  

Hell dude, that makes me extremely happy.  I will always strive to bring out the human side of the life these characters chose.  It’s important to me to portray our soldiers as living beings with emotional souls that sometimes find themselves caught in a crisis of conscience.  It affects them, and I won’t pretend that they are robotic automatons that always follow orders.  The things the Army asks of them aren’t easy, sometimes at war with their nature.  

[Assmunch]

Author’s note:  I’ve changed one of the rapist’s names from the previous chapter, which has most likely been edited after the early readers have seen it.  The rapists are now Barnell and Delnick.  Sorry for any confusion.  A necessary change to avoid an awkward and unfortunate coincidence.

 

BARRACKS 1830

 

“Do you think your guy Bootlicker can keep his mouth shut?”  Potter asked Assmunch when Sleeper and Zeus were gone.

“No question, Potter.  I probably don’t know a quarter of what he and Wanker have gotten into since we’ve been here, but I expect all of it would have them dismissed from the course if not booted from the Army.  If you need something that breaks all the rules, he’s your guy.  He’d do it just for the fun of it.”  Assmunch answered.

“That’s what I need to hear.  I need passes for Battles and I, and our entry on the in/out log this morning to disappear.  We have been gone since going out last night and will sign back in just after wake up tomorrow.  We won’t be here at curfew or lights out.  We need uniforms from Sleeper and Demon, they’re about our size, without nametapes if they have them.  We need to look Army, just in case anyone sees us from a distance.  We won’t be seen, but it’s best to cover every angle.”

“I’ll make it happen.  Anything else?”  Assmunch asked.

“Just one thing.  Do you want to come?”  Potter fixed Assmunch with a serious gaze, and Assmunch felt like this was a test.

Assmunch didn’t have to give it a lot of thought, he knew he wanted to be there.  He wasn’t going for the killing and wasn’t eager for it but he had to be there because it felt wrong to avoid this part of the distasteful plan.  He was responsible for the Brotherhood.  And while he wasn’t the architect of this plan, he was part of it.  He needed to see this through.  He would let Potter do the final act but a leader didn’t hide behind his men.  If he wasn’t willing to risk himself, he couldn’t ask others to.  And he needed to know the moment Potter described without being in it.  It would tell him if he had what it took to become a Ranger.

He had to ask, though.  “Do you think I’m ready?”

Potter smiled.  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t already think so. And the Bravos have plenty that are ready.  Most, actually.  And add Weeble to the ready list now, after what he went through.  Zeus isn’t because he doesn’t really see a lot of gray in things.  The whole bad/good thing has to shift for him.  Right now, only a order to kill will feel right to him.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  We are working on it, and he’s better but a long way from where he needs to be.”  Assmunch answered.  “I have to go with you.  I have to see this through.  Mostly for myself,  But also for Weeble.”

Corporal Potter nodded.  “It’s going to be ugly, Andrew.  I mean to fuck these assholes up, and then I’m going to kill them. You need to be prepared for it.  You’re not eligible for an overnight pass, so you have to get out after lights out.  You know where the armory is?”

“Yeah, I remember from combat training when I was here before.  I think I know the shed Weeble was talking about.  It’s by itself a little east of the A20 dudded impact area.”

“Okay, good.  Battles and I will be waiting for you, but Barnell and Delnick will probably get there just before midnight.  Don’t wait too long after lights out to be on your way.”

 

***************

The next few hours until lights out seemed to crawl by.  Potter and Battles left immediately after getting the uniforms from Assmunch, and the passes from Bootlicker, who also made quick work of modifying the in/out to remove Potter and Battles from the morning sign in and substituting in Assmunch’s name with a 30 minute in/out for PT, matching the time of a couple other soldiers so it looked like they all went together.  Bootlicker magically produced a small bottle of nail polish remover from his locker, saying acetone was an excellent ink remover.  Assmunch didn’t ask why the bottle was almost empty.  He didn’t want to know how many or what types of documents or records Bootlicker had changed in his time with the Bravos.

Assmunch was prepared to operate tomorrow on little to no sleep.  He didn’t know what the night would bring but whatever occurred he had to be back in his bunk by 0330.

Running across the main part of the base where the Airborne barracks were located was an exercise in stealth.  He avoided the pools of light provided by streetlights, and floodlights positioned around the buildings.  He hid from the single security patrol he saw driving down the street, waiting motionless until the red tail lights disappeared between buildings.  His path was not direct but rather a chaotic scurry to the next pocket of darkness in whatever direction was shortest.  All was quiet on the silent Sunday night that mocked the nervousness and turmoil within him.  It took fifteen minutes by his internal clock to reach the dudded impact zone where the Gun Bunnies lobbed their tootsie rolls for training.  Non explosive most all the time.  Live fire training exercises did happen in other zones, but not this one just off the Cantonment areas.  When live fire artillery exercises were being conducted the loudspeakers on base that usually played reveille and taps, or the Star Spangled banner, would blare an announcement.  During his combat training they’d had two live fire artillery exercises at Benning.  They don’t warn you about the thrum of pressure you feel with every concussive blast when live artillery was used, even from miles away there was always a soft ‘whump’ against your body not too long after the explosive flash.  There had been none in the two weeks he’d been at Airborne and probably wouldn’t be while he was here.  Live fire artillery exercises weren’t regularly conducted.

The impact zone was considered restricted, and no unauthorized personnel were ever allowed there but Assmunch wasn’t following rules tonight so he cut directly across the area after jumping the fence.  Although night exercises were conducted, again they were done infrequently and away from the Cantonment area that housed the operations buildings, barracks and population.  This impact zone was not used for night ops.  Anyone looking with infrared or night vision would see him instantly, but he relied on the fact that no one with any sense would run across this area, much less run across the base in the middle of the night, so any security wouldn’t be looking here if they were looking at all.  The fence line around the perimeter of Ft. Benning was where they were looking and watching, plus the usual patrols in the Cantonment as part of the MP’s regular duties.  There would be patrols out here as well, but they would be done from vehicles on the road and unless there was something suspicious they were investigating their eyes would simply scan unless something stood out.  Tonight, darkness was his friend and he welcomed it inside himself knowing he’d need it for what had to happen.

A less than a half hour later he slowed as he reached the area where the shed would be, cautious.  The overcast clouds from the day were gone and the area was minimally bathed by the quarter moon.  It was just before midnight, maybe 15 minutes or less.  Lying flat on the ground, his balaclava hiding all but his eyes, he watched the shed for movement.  He saw nothing.

The hoot of an owl from his left caught his attention.  He turned his head slowly, keeping his head close to the earth.

The silhouette of an arm thrust up from a depression twenty feet from his position.  He gave a low volume single hoot back and crawled towards it, finding Potter lying on his back, relaxed as if he were going to take a nap.  Assmunch mirrored the position.

Potter leaned in towards him.  “We’ll hear them coming.  I heard you twenty yards out.  They’ll be in a vehicle.  Lights off I’m sure, but we’ll hear the motor.  Battles is opposite.  We’ll let them get the shed open.  Battles and I already cleaned it up, got everything put back together.  Didn’t see any blood from Victor, so that’s good.  The only blood in there will be theirs.”

“Roger that.”  Assmunch replied.  So they waited, not talking.  Assmunch used the time to mentally prepare himself trying to imagine all the ways this could go, forcing his heart to go cold with thoughts of what Weeble had endured.  Only the six of them knew the strength it had taken for Weeble to escape and return which increased Assmunch’s determination to see this through. The two rapists had probably counted on the normal profile of a jump school student - attending alone, no one to back them up or question where they were until too much time had passed, the usual chain of command bullshit that would delay any search.  The initial assumption was always AWOL or Desertion.  These guys had their M.O. down and Assmunch wondered how many others there had been, if there had been previous deaths or they’d counted on the shame to keep their victims silent as well as the unfavorable treatment many victims in the military receive after they report a sexual assault. Ostracism was the most common, but far worse happened.  And that was just in the ranks.  Superiors didn’t like troublemakers, squeaky wheels, or soldiers who rocked the boat and disrupted the mission.  Especially old guard Superiors, who felt if a soldier couldn’t handle their shit they could fuck right out of the Army instead of making it everyone’s problem. The Army didn’t need pussies who probably put a target on their own back anyway.   That was how they treated the men who caused waves… the women got far worse.  Good luck with your career if you got that reputation. The worst part was how they appeared to take it seriously then cut the complainer loose to the rumor mill.  The details of a sexual assault allegation flew around a base faster than a directive straight from the Pentagon. If a soldier ended up in the hospital, things were taken more seriously, but the post trauma counseling and notations in their record pretty much ensured a discharge of some kind.  Unfit for duty for any number of reasons. Only by ignoring it ever happened were you likely to be able to continue to serve.

Potter suddenly hooted twice, and a few seconds later Assmunch heard a vehicle approaching.  His heart began to race.

“Breathe.”  Potter whispered.  “Calm. Cold. Just taking out the garbage.”

Good advice, which Assmunch followed immediately.  He stilled his thoughts. Control. He resisted the reflex to make this personal. He did not care about these feral dogs, they were simply an obstacle.  As much as he wanted the rage to warm him, it would only complicate things so he had to stay even, measured, calculating.  Without emotion there would be no fear.  Without feeling he could not doubt. It was only murder if they killed a human.  These two were animals.  Such were the lies he allowed himself, thin as they were.

Potter had been right, the vehicle approached without lights and stopped, then the engine silenced.  Almost a full minute elapsed before Assmunch heard the doors open.  They did not shut again.  He imagined Battles approached the rear of the shed, or maybe not.

Potter placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, making an unnecessary gesture to silence with his finger on his lips.  Assmunch nodded.  Then Potter tilted his head back and sideways to glance over the edge of the depression at the shed.

He held up two fingers and then an ‘okay’ sign.  Still watching, he waited until the clear sound of the padlock disengaging echoed in the night.  His hand struck Assmunch’s shoulder twice and he rolled quietly to his stomach and rose like black steam from the ground without a single sound.  Assmunch repeated his movements and took three slow full and deep breaths, careful to control his exhale, and he felt himself settle unexpectedly into that place.  The shed door was opening and Potter just started to signal and move when Assmunch mirrored him with steady and fluid steps, knees flexed, body positioned in a crouch.  They would not rush and Assmunch knew the optimal location to take them was inside the shed.  Automatic brain was in control and hyper focused. His peripheral vision noted the vehicle was empty, drivers side and passenger doors remaining ajar, interior light disengaged.

Five paces.  Four.  A flashlight flared, and Potter was moving suddenly.  Assmunch only a split second behind.

They never registered the body of the Marine that slammed into them, shoving one into the other and sending them both flying towards the shelves at the back of the shed.

Assmunch dodged to the side, his arm reaching out to Barnell’s sidearm as he left his feet, simultaneously flicking the securing strap with his thumb and pulling the weapon from its holster.

The grunt from the unexpected contact came just before the sound of crashing bodies.  Potter wasted no time and the sound of handcuffs clicked along with a yell of pain.  The light from the flashlight rolling to a stop on the floor showed Barnell half on top of Delnick who had hit the shelves before he fell.  Barnell was in uniform, Delnick in civvies and Barnell’s hands were cuffed behind his back.

Battles entered just as the two began to struggle.  Potter raised up and brought his knee to the center of Barnell’s back with all his weight.  Barnell let out a pathetic cry.  Potter’s gloved fist slammed into the side of his face, reducing him to a stunned limp piece of meat.  Delnick was trying to extricate himself and a quick strike by Potter stunned him as well.

“Get this one’s cuffs on the other one.”  Potter said in a calm, ordinary tone of voice.  Taking out the garbage.

Battles withdrew Barnell’s cuffs from the utility pouch on his equipment belt and only had a small fight to secure Delnick’s hands.

“Let’s get him up.”  Assmunch helped Potter drag Barnell to his feet and before Barnell could tense enough for the bolt they were expecting Potter brought his knee up sideways into Barnell’s stomach forcing him to try to double over but Assmuch held his collar and his wrists.  His knees buckled with a grunt.  Battles had Delnick face down with a knee on his neck.

With Barnell on his knees, Potter said “Hand me that mag light.  Assmunch reached down with one hand and retrieved the flashlight from where it had rolled when the animals dropped it.  He handed it to Potter who looked at it.  “Perfect.”  He pushed Barnell’s head back by the forehead.  “Open up.”

“Fuck you.”  Barnell said.

“Open up or I break your jaw to open it for you.  Your choice.”  Potter could have been ordering breakfast at Waffle House.  He tapped the end of the mag light on Barnell’s chin repeatedly with measured gentle hits a second apart.  One…Two…Three…Four…..After the fifth tap, he suddenly raised the heavy metal flashlight filled with four D cell batteries above his shoulder.

“Okay, okay!”  Barnell cried.  Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as he opened his trembling ugly mouth.

“Wider.”  Potter ordered calmly.

When the Marine decided the fit was right he lowered the flashlight slowly, allowing Barnell to watch it descend, his head still pulled back so his face was looking up.  The barrel of the flashlight was a little over ten inches long and as big around as the cardboard roll inside a sleeve of toilet paper.

“Uh uh… keep it open.”  Potter warned when Barnell started to close his jaw.  He eased the end between Barnell’s lips.

“Suck it.”  Barnell, recognizing this was just hazing, did as he was told, the wild panicked look disappearing from his eyes.  Potter pushed another inch in.  “Get it wet.”  Barnell’s eyes kept darting from Potter’s face to the flashlight, then rolled up to try to get a look at Assmunch.

Potter pushed another inch in, and the panic returned to Barnell’s face.  He began making guttural noises.

“Don’t talk when you’re sucking.  I don’t like it.”  Potter observed with a bored tone.  “You’re going to take all of it.  Hey buddy, what’s that saying you like?”

Battles said in the same casual tone “You mean ‘if he ain’t bleeding, you ain’t trying?”

“That’s the one.”  And with that Potter pushed the flashlight down.  Barnell began to scream around the object in his mouth and struggle but Assmunch held him tight by the head, his dispassionate eyes unblinking, his foot pressing down on the links between the cuffs and his knee pressed between Barnell’s shoulder blades.  Potter met resistance about five inches in and pushed with slightly more strength managing to work another inch down.

“Pathetic.”  Potter remarked.  “You can do better.  I’ve seen it in movies.”  And he pushed again without making any progress.  He sighed.  “What a waste of time.”  With that he hammered his fist down on the head of the flashlight punching it down fully into Barnell’s throat.

Barnell’s eyes bulged and his body jerked.

“Let him go.”  Potter said, and Assmunch released him to fall to the floor off the shed where he twisted and writhed as he choked, suffocating with incredible pain caused by half of the ten inches of thick hard textured metal being forced into his overstretched throat.

Potter shoved him over on his back with his foot, and knelt down to undo his equipment belt.

“Get his legs.” He told Assmunch.  Assmunch knelt on either side of Barnell’s legs, pinning them in place and sitting down on his shins.  Potter tossed the equipment belt aside, then unclipped the slide on his uniform belt.  “Pull his pants down, just below his knees.”

Assmunch yanked the uniform trousers down.  Barnell’s struggles were becoming weaker as he suffocated, unable to draw breath around the tube in his throat.

“Let’s get him up, on that shelf.”  Assmunch knew the one he was talking about.  They positioned him exactly as Weeble had described, facedown on the middle shelf, his now naked ass sticking out, sliding the cuffs over the J-hook that held the extension cord.  Barnell was now limp and Potter grabbed the end of the flashlight and jerked it free from Barnell’s mouth.  A few seconds went by and Barnell jerked back to consciousness with a gurgling choking gasp that had to be incredibly painful to his abused throat.

“Bring the other one over here.”  Potter said.  Battles yanked Delnick up by the back of his shirt and dragged him on his knees over behind Barnell.

“Eat your buddy’s ass.”  Potter ordered, swinging the mag light in lazy arcs.

“I can’t…I don’t… Please?”  Delnick pleaded.

Potter hit him with the flashlight in the side of the face, which made the light flicker.  The crack was followed by blood.  “Eat his ass.  Get it wet, really wet.  Make sure you get his hole.  The wetter you make it the shorter you’ll have to do it.  I won’t tell you again.”

Delnick slowly moved his face towards Barnell’s ass.  Barnell’s breathing was ragged and suffering.  It was probably all he could do to lay there gasping with his throat on fire.

Delnick tried to fake his way through it, for which Potter connected his gloved fist with the other side of Delnick’s face, sending his head rocking as he fell over onto his side.

“Please…”. Delnick begged.  “What do you want?  Why are you doing this?”  He cried.

“I want -“ he kicked Delnick in the stomach.  “You to eat his ass.” And he leveled another harder kick.  “Get up.  Get in there.  Get it wet.”

He yanked Delnick up by his shirt, the jerking motion forcing a button to pop off and roll under the shelves.

“Buddy, why don’t you spread those cheeks for him.”  He nodded at Assmunch, who moved to pull Barnell’s asscheeks apart.  Potter grabbed the back of Delnick’s head and pushed it forward.  “Stick your tongue out and lick.”

Delnick was crying now, but doing as he was told.  He gagged.

“Spit it on his hole, don’t swallow it.”  Delnick obeyed.  “Wetter, more spit.  He’s going to have a hard time of it if you don’t get him lubed up.”

Delnick pulled back.  “You…you’re going to fuck him?”

Potter laughed.  It was a sound that could barely be described as a laugh.  It conveyed no humor.  It was an expression meant to mimic laughter by a creature alien to the concept of joy.  It weighed the air with poison.  “Not me.  You.  That’s probably enough.”

Barnell’s right butt cheek was smeared with Delnick’s blood from the cut on his cheek.  Potter pulled Delnick away from Barnell’s ass.

“Buddy, take care of that one’s hands.”  He said to Battles.

Battles stepped over to the other shelf and selected a piece of lumber.  He hefted it a couple times as he walked back over to Barnell.  With an underhanded swing he hammered it into Barnell’s exposed right knuckles held in place by the cuffs, not hard enough to break bone but enough to bruise them.  Then he rubbed the wood over the punished skin.  Battles bent down to get a closer look, then using his own gloved fist he punched Barnell’s knuckles three times more and looked again.  Barnell was barely responsive.  “It’ll do.”  He announced.  “Give him another one.”

Without warning Potter slammed his fist into Delnick’s nose.  He fell back groaning to the floor.

“Get up and fuck him.”  Potter ordered.

“I can’t.  I won’t get hard.”  Delnick whined as blood trickled out his nostrils.

Potter shoved Delnick over on his stomach with his boot.  “Give him two, right hand.”  Delnick attempted to curl his hands but Battles dropped his knee into Delnick’s back just as Potter had done to Barnell earlier.  Delnick let out a groaning wail as Battles grabbed his wrists.  He twisted the rapist’s arms up and towards him, his grip on the cuffs making it impossible for Delnick to hide his knuckles.  Battles popped his knuckles twice, then rubbed the wood back and forth a few times before dropping Delnick’s wrists.

“You fuck him, and we let you go.  That’s the deal.  You fuck him and this will all be over.  I don’t care if you have to think about fucking your sister or some hot chick you saw at the PX, but fuck him hard, shoot your load and we leave the key to the cuffs on that shelf over there and go away.  This is just payback for that guy you did last year.  Just teaching you a little lesson. Fuck your friend like you fucked our friend and we call it even.  Hell, I’ll throw you a bone and say it’s okay if you think about how you fucked our friend, we know THAT got your rocks off.  What do you say Delnick?  Fuck him hard and give him that load you’ve been dreaming of fucking into him, or we beat you so much over the next two hours that you get a medical discharge and a lifetime of VA appointments.  Your choice.”  Potter was incredibly reasonable.  Assmunch had no problem believing there had been more than just one non-specific friend these two had victimized over the last year.

“You promise?  You’ll let us go?”  Delnick was crying again, blubbering like the coward he was.

“Yeah man, it’s a promise.  And none of us will say anything about any of this.”  Potter said with a convincing smile.

“O-o-okay…I’ll try.”

Potter smiled again.  “Remember, just like you fucked our friend, or the deal’s off.  He told us all about it.  That’s how we knew about the thing you like to say ‘if he ain’t bleeding you ain’t trying’.  We really need you to mean it, okay?”

Delnick nodded working his way to his feet.

“You probably need us to help you with your jeans, right?”  Potter said.  Delnick nodded.

Potter undid the top button on Delnick’s 501’s, then slowly undid the buttons below it.  He rubbed the back of his hand over Delnick’s crotch as he moved.  In a seductively low voice Potter continued.  “Wow, buddy, looks like you’re packing a nice piece of meat there.  Your buddy is sure gonna enjoy that, feeling you ramming that piece up his warm tight hole.  He’s probably a virgin, right?  He’s gonna love you opening him up like a whore, a real man like you, giving him what he secretly wants.  Showing him what he’s good for, being a fuckhole for you to empty your balls.  Yeah, it’ll hurt him at first, but that’s good, isn’t it, shows him how to be a real man.”

“Delnick…don’t.” Barnell’s raspy tortured voice came out soft and hoarse.

Potter grinned.  “Got a little fight in him, but that’s the way you like it, isn’t it?  He doesn’t know how much he’s gonna like it though, once you get to pounding.  They all settle down after a while, don’t they?  They fight at first, but then they just lay there and enjoy it, because they love that big dick of yours.  They can’t help it.  Just fucking love this cock…”. Potter had pushed Delnick’s underwear down to his thighs along with his jeans and was gently stroking his cock that was now hard.  “Yeah man, go on, show him how a real man fucks.  Show us how you like to do it so we can all go home and get some sleep tonight.”

“Please … no…”. Barnell barely had enough control over his torn vocal cords to get the words to come out as more than a whisper.

“Oh, say that thing you like to say.”  Potter urged with a grin.

Delnick cleared his throat.  “If he ain’t bleedin’ you ain’t tryin’”

Potter clapped him on the back.  “Hell yeah buddy, show us what it’s all about.”  Potter pointed Delnick’s rather average dick at Barnell’s hole.  “All the way in the first plunge, as hard as you can, just like my friend.  Won’t it be fuckin’ hot when that warm blood coats your big cock?  Fuck yeah.”

Potter pulled on Delnick’s dick one more time, forcing a drop of precum to the top.

“Do it.  Now.”  And gave Delnick a nudge on his lower back.

He thrust forward with all his weight in one violent heave.

The sound that came out of Barnell was a toneless scream of wheezing tortured air, and he bucked forcefully to try to get away.  But of course he couldn’t.

“Yeah buddy, fuck him hard!  He loves it, you’ll make him cum if you keep fucking him hard like that.  Nice big hot cock ripping into him, fucking him like a real man should.  Damn, that’s as hot as our friend said, he said he hated it at first, but you fucked him so good he started to enjoy it.  You’re a real stud.  Shit, everyone needs that dick.”

Potter kept up the talk, stoking Delnick’s ego, giving him an ongoing narrative to get him where he needed him.  Whatever it took.

“That’s it, it’s going to feel so good to unload in that ass.  You gotta be close. Watching you take that hole has got me boned, man.  See how he’s just laying there now?  He knows what that hole is for.  Go ahead.  Shoot your load, let’s all go home.”

Delnick started thrusting faster, trying to work himself up enough to cum.  It wasn’t easy.  He had no control, no power in this.  Without that this was a disgusting fag fuck.  He closed his eyes and pictured sexual fantasies, trying to find one that would ramp him up.  He was going to cum in Barnell’s ass. Hell, his buddy probably DID like it, just a little.  He’d probably ask him to fuck his ass again after this.  Delnick imagined Barnell begging him to do it just one more time, and imagined himself sneering at Barnell and calling him a desperate faggot hungry for dick.  Seeing Barnell’s sad shocked face as he spat the insult at him started his balls churning.  Yeah, Barnell would probably turn into one of those disgusting homos who couldn’t get enough dick. Delnick always figured Barnell leaned that way.  The guy was always scoping out the new classes at Airborne.  It was Barnell that picked the guy out they would fuck.  It was Barnell that arranged everything, planned it out.  Delnick hardly thought about it at all until Barnell called him to say he’d picked out another one.  Barnell found the places they would take the guys, like this shed.  None of this was Delnick’s idea, he was just having a little fun, releasing a little stress.  The more he thought about it while fucking Barnell’s bloody ass they more he realized Barnell was a little faggot too.  He probably jacked off thinking about Delnick’s dick, he was always so eager to get Delnick into the guys they fucked.  Too eager.  Well, if Barnell wanted his dick, he was gonna get it.

Delnick started fucking with angry, jabbing thrusts.  He wished he had the use of his hands to grab his fellow MP’s hips.  Barnell was responsible for getting him into this mess.  It was all his fault, the dirty fucking pervert. It was no more than he deserved. This was probably what he dreamed about all along, why he’d picked Delnick to be his wing man. He was getting close, real close.  He pulled his dick all the way out and shoved it back in making Barnell gasp with pleasure, obviously loving it.  He did it again, and again, then a third time when he felt his cum start shooting deep in Barnell’s bloody asshole.  He pushed further in, letting his seed fill that faggot’s hole.

The exertion of his finish was still washing over him when he felt the cuffs release and a hand grabbed his wrist.  He felt Barnell’s sidearm touch his palm as his arm was pulled forward just as he realized what was happening.  The sound of the weapon discharging with two loud pops echoed in the shed as Barnell’s body twitched on the shelf. Then the gun was pulled from his hand and placed against his temple.  He barely had time register shock when everything went black.

************

ASSMUNCH

It all happened so fast after Delnick came.  Battles pushed Assmunch towards the shed door then immediately unlocked Delnick’s right handcuff when Potter grabbed his hand and lifted his arm holding Barnell’s sidearm in Delnick’s palm.  He pointed it Barnell’s head and Potter pulled the trigger twice in quick succession then without a pause he dropped Delnick’s hand and raised the gun to Delnick’s temple at a slight backwards angle.  One quick pull saw Delnick’s head jerk away.  Three seconds.  It almost seemed impossible for so many things to happen in so short a time.  There was no splatter, no skull explosion like in the movies.  Potter dropped the gun from where he pulled the trigger before Delnick’s lifeless body hit the floor.

Battles carefully unlocked the left handcuff, reset them, and casually tucked them back into Barnell’s utility belt.  Potter did a quick scan of the shed, placed the mag light on the upper shelf near the edge and picked up the piece of lumber they’d used.

“Hmmm, his pants need to be pulled back up.”  Potter said.  “Took him a few minutes to think through what he’d done, to figure out there was no way out of this.  He’d have pulled up his jeans, just doing the top button.”

“Sound right.”  Battles replied.  The two of them made quick work of getting Delnick’s jeans back up, and then carefully rearranged him exactly as he fell.

“You understand all this, Andrew?”  Potter asked.

Assmunch was still processing it.  It was nothing like he’d thought. The puzzling part was how little he felt about seeing two men get shot in the head. Except for the loud retort of the weapon discharge their actual moments of death were sudden and quiet and it seemed like there should have been … well, MORE.  The finality of it, the abrupt stillness argued against the nature of the violence and the buildup that preceded it.  It demanded an equal ferocity that would never blossom, like watching lightning strike without the thunder that should follow, the explosion of a mortar without the whump of air pressure.  And deeper… a recognition that there was an absence of satisfaction.  It should have felt like a resolution, a series of actions that resulted in a sense of completion.  If anything, it all felt lacking.  Empty.  The anticipated cathartic feeling of righteous justice did not manifest in this room. Even Potter and Battles continued on as if nothing of import occurred. The disparity between what he expected to feel and what he didn’t feel created an incongruity that would necessitate further examination.  But not now. He had a doubt that the reconciliation would ever happen for him, there wasn’t enough discord within him to require the type of soul-searching he expected. His non-reaction bothered him more than what might spur a moral conflict.

“Uh, yeah, I think.  You want it to look like an argument between lovers.  Like Barnell wanted to call it off, they fought, Delnick wasn’t on board with that.  It got out of control and Delnick realized he was fucked either way so he did Barnell, then offed himself.”

Potter nodded.  “Pretty close.  It reads either way…either Delnick came onto Barnell and was rebuffed and threatened exposure so Delnick raped him and killed him, or they’d been having a lover’s spat.  The beatings we gave them both weren’t punishment, it was just enough to be evidence of a mutual fight between former friends.  You fight your friends differently than your enemy.  Delnick forced himself on Barnell once he had him subdued.  The investigation won’t go any further than this shed.  Everything is explained with what they find in here and their actions today.  I think these two also had the occasional unexplained times when their whereabouts couldn’t be explained suggesting they disappeared at times for secret meetups.  Are you good, Andrew?”

Assmunch met Potter’s eyes.  “I’m not sure why, but yeah.  Just not sure it won’t hit me later.  You think it will?”

Potter shrugged.  “Hard to say, but you?  I don’t think so.  You stay in your lane. You look ahead, not back.  Don’t worry about this not hitting you hard.  Like I said, everyone is different, and this situation I think falls into one of your ‘had to be done’ categories.  If there’s one thing I know about you Andrew, is you tackle things head on.  They don’t creep around in your head taking up space.  And at the end of it all, you didn’t pull the trigger.  You’ll be fine.  Everything that happened tonight stays in this shed.  I’m already erasing it in my head.  You should too.”  Potter then turned to Battles.  “Just cleanup left.  Andrew doesn’t have gloves, make sure you get the top of the mag light where he grabbed, get both their hands on it.  CID will fit it into their conclusions however they think goes along with what they decide.”

“What about his weapon?  I grabbed it.”  Andrew asked.

“Textured grip.  Can’t get anything off that.  Trust me, there’s too much here pointing to only these two being involved.  And when they dig deeper into their whereabouts the last 24 hours, then look even deeper and further back, it’ll all be crystal clear.  What I hope is that at least one or two of their previous victims tried to make a report.  And hopefully their hands will be on any investigation, which I would expect they’d volunteer to handle.  Once CID starts digging and asking questions, they should figure out who these roaches are and what they might have done.  Then, CID won’t be looking for any other reason than these two having a falling out.  But even if that doesn’t happen, THIS piece of shit”. He said, gesturing to Delnick’s crumpled body. “Fucked THAT piece of shit bloody and dumped his load in his ass.  Hard to explain that if someone else did the deed.  Get going.  Pace your way back, take your time, don’t get distracted with thoughts, stay aware.  Caution is the priority, not time. You absolutely can’t be seen.”  Then putting it it language more familiar, “Your mission isn’t over until you’re in your bunk.”

Assmunch nodded.  Then dipped his head at Battles.  “You have a blank check for this, you know that right?”  He said.

“It’s all a blank check for a brother.  That’s why we’re here.  That’s why you’ll be there when we need it.  Isn’t that right, Battles?  There’s no scorecard between brothers.”

“Hoo-rah”. Battles said in a soft growl without even looking at them while he took care of the final details.

Assmunch turned and left the shed, heading back the way he came, being careful to stick to the path they’d already taken to get to the shed.

*************

WEEBLE

 

Sleep came hard, and sporadic.  The feeling of being trapped forced him to jolt awake repeatedly and jerk his head around to make sure of his surroundings.  He’d then spend 20 minutes or more trying to get back to sleep only to wake up again a short time later.  He SHOULD feel safe, here in the barracks, surrounded by the Bravos.  But he didn’t.  No, that wasn’t right.  He felt safe.  But he couldn’t forget.  This time he woke himself up stifling a scream.  The image of Delnick and Barnell in the front seat as they drove him to the shed panicked his dream.

He heard a shuffling two bunks over.  He turned his head.  Zeus was walking toward his bunk, in his puppy dog pajamas.   When the giant got close, he whispered “I’m okay Zeus.  Just a dream.”

Zeus didn’t say anything.  He pulled Weeble’s blanket back and climbed in the bunk.

“No more dreams.”  Zeus said, pulling Weeble into his arms and surrounding his entire body.  The last thing Weeble thought before waking up was how he didn’t feel trapped.

[daddybear54]

This brought to mind a lawyer character in a play I saw who said, "Cold, clear logic -- and buckets of it -- should be a lawyer's only equipment." And that's exactly the way Potter took out the garbage. Impressive.