Date: Mon, 14 May 2007 01:43:19 +0800 From: YoDawgs Bl.net Subject: Invisible war chapter 7 "I took good care of him." James said. "He's waiting for you." "Thanks." Brown replied. They were back at base camp, Belgrade. It had started to snow, and the fires in the buildings began to be extinguished. "God, I need a bath." "Well, you can shower in that room there." James pointed. "Thanks." He shuffled over to the makeshift shower, and took his time, enjoying the warm water. He scrubbed his chest vigorously, cleaning it of Jaeger's and Franz's blood. When he eventually emerged from the shower, Lewis was waiting for him. "That was quite an achievement, for your very first mission." He said. "Keep it up. Mark says you're a little too merciful, but don't listen to the bugger. You're fine." "Thanks." He wasn't very talkative today. He strode over to the bed, and lightly touched the sleeping boy on the shoulder. The latter gasped awake, and looked around for danger before realising his position. He smiled at Brown. "Hallo. Wie gehts?" "I'm good, thanks." "Warum sind sie helfen mich?" Why did you help me? "Hmm, I need some backup." Brown thought to himself. He called Fuchs, and the German boy hurried over. "Fritz, could I use your language expertise?" "Sure." "Thanks. Could you tell him that I helped him because he looked so much like me, that I couldn't bear to see anyone die, not especially such a young person like me." "Yeah." Fuchs whispered into the boy's ear. Franz smiled, and took Brown's hand. "Danke." He said. "Vielen Danke." "Kein problem." Fuchs immediately said. Franz nodded. His chest had been plugged up with medical gel, and already was beginning to heal. He placed Brown's hand on his chest and said "Mein freunde." My friend. "Seems like he needs to learn some English." Martin said from behind them, making Brown jump. "What? But I kann speek Eenglishh." Franz slurred. "Oh crikey. Why didn't you say so, then?" "He just did, Martin." "Oh." "Well, I'm going to check on my other friend." Brown told Franz. "You sit tight, take care." Franz nodded. Brown headed over to where Jaeger was lying, still unconscious. James had already tended to him, but there was nothing anybody could do, except wait it out. "How is he?" he asked James. "Well, he's still in critical condition, but he'll definitely make it." James replied, much to his relief. "Oh, thank god." "You did well there. Reacted quickly." James complimented him. "He would have died, otherwise." "I see. Will you be joining us tonight?" "Where?" "You know, the squad sleeps in a single bed." "Oh yes, of course. Now go bother somebody else. I need to treat these miscreants." He motioned to a group of injured enemy soldiers, one, Brown noticed with relief, was the boy who was shot in the stomach. He padded on the plastic floor to their quarters. He was tired out from the day, and could use some sleep. He threw himself onto the welcoming bunk, and spread his arms out. He felt a familiar weight on his torso, and opened his eyes to a grinning Fuchs. The German boy had grown a lot since Brown had met him. He was more confident now, and spoke far more frequently than before. He had developed his body well, boasting a six pack and a slightly bulging chest. His nipples had gone slightly puffier and lighter ever since he had had the hydrostatic implant, and stood out against his magnificent torso. He was about Brown's height now, and had a more mature face. Fuchs sighed softly as his body made contact with Brown's. "Just like the good old days, eh?" he grinned. "Yeah." "I wonder about that Franz. It was out of place to save him, you know." "Oh Fritz, I know that. But I had to. Every time I shoot someone, it hurts inside as well. I'm not like Mark. He'd gladly shoot them in their balls if he got the chance." Fuchs shook with laughter. "No, I'm serious." "I'd shoot YOU in the balls if I had the chance." Roberts' voice shocked them. The Tibetan boy was kneeling beside them, a smile on his face. He stroked Brown's hair, and lightly tickled Fuchs in his lower back, causing the German boy to squirm and squeal. "Thanks for saving Hans today." "I had to." He began to hate the phrase. "I was so worried he was gonna leave us." "Yeah. Me too." Roberts admitted. "Hopefully that'll never happen again. I'll give him backup everywhere he goes from now on." Brown looked up, and spotted Lieutenant Jones helping another person along. Brown identified him as the boy who was taken victim of the sniper's bullet. His abdomen had already been tended to by James, but he still limped along with pain. "Hey, man. Thanks for everything." The blonde haired boy said. "I appreciate it." "No problem. It's my job, remember?" "All the same..." "Just kidding. Come on over. Lie with us." Jones helped the boy over and gently lowered him down onto the bed. "I heard you guys don't bleed when you get shot." "Nope, but it hurts all the same." Fuchs replied. "What happens then?" "Ask your lieutenant. I'm sure he can tell you." The dirty blonde haired boy turned to Jones, who flipped his hair over. "Well..." the blonde haired boy faltered. "Oh, let me show you." Roberts said impatiently. He drew his sidearm, attached a silencer to it, and neatly shot himself in his stomach. He dropped the pistol and grunted, as the pain overwhelmed him. "Wow, cool." The blonde haired soldier said, looking at the bullet hole. "I never got your name." Brown said to the soldier. "Oh... Peter Mackenzie." The boy replied. "What else you guys got besides that?" "Hmm... let me show you." Brown replied, shoving Fuchs off. He very carefully lay down upon Mackenzie's torso, and pressed his stomach against the boy's injured abdomen. Mackenzie sighed. "Oh... that feels great, man." "We heal much quicker as well. I dunno how this happens, but prolonged contact with our bodies will cause your wounds to heal quicker also. Perhaps your lieutenant would agree to this. I'm sure he has the hydrostatic implant as well." Roberts said, while Jones shook his head vehemently with his eyes wide open. Mackenzie turned to his leader. "You never told us you had that implant." He said in an accusatory tone. "Why?" "I... I didn't think it was necessary at the time." Jones stammered. They started arguing softly. Brown could feel the tensing of Mackenzie's stomach as he was aggravated. "Stop that." He said. "You'll displace the gel." He reached over to Roberts and squeezed the bullet out, causing the half-oriental boy to cry out softly in relief. Fuchs shifted positions and lay on his back, exposing his body. Brown resisted the temptation to smack him on his white stomach. "Ungh..." the dark haired German boy sighed. "I shouldn't have killed that sniper today." "Why not?" Roberts shot back. "He wouldn't have had any qualms about killing you back." "I know... but it just doesn't feel right." He reached under the bed and drew out the case containing his sniper rifle. He started to clean the barrel. "It doesn't have to `feel right' to do something, Fritz." Roberts replied. "You just do it." "I guess..." The rest of the Jones' team trudged into the room and took the bunk opposite them. They removed their vests, exposing their teen bodies, and started yawning in earnest. "Guys, you have to take showers before you even touch that bed. I am not sleeping with a sweaty, smelly marine. Go!" Most of the boys filed out, grumbling softly to one another. Jones shook his head. "Can you believe those guys? Sometimes I wish I had you people for a squad." He motioned to their clean bodies. "Pigs, they are." "Yeah..." Brown replied dreamily. Mackenzie had already begun to drift off, and his breaths came out in clouds of mist. "Mmh... much better." Fuchs said, as he packed his oiled rifle back into the case. "Hey, I want on." he spotted Brown still lying atop the blonde boy. "Alright, alright." Brown levered himself off the blonde boy. Roberts and Jones were making idle talk. Fuchs grinned at him. "Thanks. You don't know how much this..." he glanced at Brown's face. "means to me." He said. "Just kidding! Just kidding!" he quickly exclaimed, as Brown tackled him and started wrestling him. He howled in anguish as Brown managed to place his knees onto his arms, effectively pinning him down. Brown started tickling him in his underarms, and he cried with mirth, begging for mercy. "Okay, okay." Fuchs groaned. "I give up. Please... please... STOP, ahahahaha!" he burst out laughing as Brown dug into his ribs. Brown did stop, though, and placed his head on Fuchs' muscular stomach. "No, no. I don't want that." Fuchs said. "I want you." He flipped Brown over and perched on him. "There!" "Oh fine." Brown said, too sleepy to protest. He became oblivious to the world around, and shut his eyes away from everything. He awoke feeling slightly refreshed; the past day's events still hung heavily on him. It was chilly, so he set his temperature slightly higher on his regulator. He padded out of the quarters, leaving behind his entire squad in various positions of slumber. He treaded over to where Jaeger was supposed to be, and realised with a jolt that the Swedish boy was nowhere to be found. He looked around hastily for his friend, but in vain. "Looking for someone?" Brown spun around. Jaeger stood smiling in front of him. "Oh Hans." He embraced the blonde boy. "You're fine..." "I've always been. I mean, look at this handsome face." Jaeger replied with a smile. "I went to the toilet, by the way. Couldn't hold it in any longer. Let's go see your friend." He limped slowly over to where Franz was, and gently tapped the boy on the shoulder. The German boy stirred, and sat up, wincing. "Guten Morgen. Wie gehts?" Jaeger said to him. "Gut, danke. Und sie?" Franz replied softly. "Ich auch." "Err... was heissen sie?" "Hans." "Oh." Brown smiled at Franz, and helped him to his feet. It was still dark outside in Belgrade; the stars in the black sky winked at them through the translucent roof of the makeshift base. He helped the brown haired boy over to their quarters and gently placed him beside Fuchs and Jurgen. "This is our squad. You're part of us now." Brown said. Jaeger whispered the translation into Franz's ear, and the boy nodded. Brown covered him up with the sheets, and Franz immediately found peace and solace in the squad's welcoming embrace. "How're your tits, Hans?" The Swedish boy sighed. "They're fine, I guess." He replied. "No wait... Aaargh!" he cried out, as Brown took the pink nubs in his fingers and gently squeezed them. He went limp, knees shaking. Brown quickly lowered him onto the large bunk and stroked him gently on his stomach. The Swedish boy had fallen unconscious again, not quite recovered from the pain yet. "Early time to be up, isn't it?" Jones' voice startled him. The lieutenant was nursing a cup of coffee, shivering slightly. His small brown nipples looked painfully erect in the cold morning. "Yeah." He scrutinized the shivering boy. "Don't you have a regulator?" Jones shook his head. "We're not equipped with the latest in technology. I still gotta suffer the cold here." "Well, put on a shirt or something, before you poke someone's eye out with those." Brown pointed at Jones' erect nipples. "Fine." The Lieutenant blushed. "I never knew I was so distasteful." He walked over and rummaged in his rucksack, and pulled out a grey shirt. "There you go." He said, pulling it on and covering his shivering torso. The rest of his squad snored away. "Well, I gotta get back to doing paperwork. You sit tight." Jones strode out of the makeshift bedroom and sat at a plastic table, where sheets of paper were visible." Brown stared at him for a few more minutes and decided to regain some more sleep. He rummaged about for his eyepiece and looked at the time. Goodness, it was only six thirty in the morning. Time to get some shuteye again. "Hmm... why do I get the feeling that you're somewhat of a catalyst for sleeping partners?" Lewis' voice awoke him from his slumber. The staff sergeant was lying beside him, and Franz had somehow found his way to him, and now lay perpendicular atop his torso. "Oh, Cayden... I..." "No worries, mate." As usual. "Ughh..." Matthew stretched himself, making his ribs stand out against his torso. Brown could not resist reaching over and touching the soft white stomach of the twin. "Mmh... that feels good." He sighed. "Okay, people!" Lewis called out from his position. "You have approximately forty five minutes to get ready to leave this hellhole. A Chinook helicopter will pick us up from this position. We'll be briefed along the way." A litany of groans filled the room. "When are we ever getting any rest?" "I wanna just get this done with and go back to HQ." "Are you kidding? More fighting to do!" Brown tried in vain to wake Jaeger; the blonde boy merely groaned and fended his hands away as he got prodded. "Aww, leave him alone, mate." James said. "He needs more rest. We'll just carry him aboard the chopper." And that was that. Half an hour later, the entire team was ready to be extracted. Lee grumbled as he searched the covers for his eyepiece. He found it under the bed, and cursed vehemently as he put it on. Franz was helped along by a vindictive Roberts, while Jaeger, semi-conscious, leant on Brown's and James' shoulders. "Chopper's waiting; let's go." Lewis ordered. He led them outside into the bitter cold, and boarded the waiting helicopter. "Bear Company's going to remain here for backup. We'll call for them if we need them." Jones waved at them as they ascended. It was surprisingly comfortable aboard the chopper; there were leather seats neatly arranged around the interior. They laid Jaeger across one of the seats, and rested his head on Blake's lap. A shivering Franz curled up in the corner, trying to warm himself by hugging his body. Brown noticed this, and went over to the German boy. "You're cold, eh?" Franz nodded, teeth chattering. The wounds on his chest were still there, but were drying up gradually. "Here." He increased the temperature on his regulator and took Franz in his arms. The boy sighed as he relaxed in Brown's grip. "Thank you." He murmured. "Okay." Lewis stood up. "Next mission's a covert mission. We're going in alone. We'll be situated in Prague. That's in the Czech Republic, for those who aren't fully aware. Our cover will be travelling student athletes, visiting a local school. Despite what you all may think, there are some places in the world that are not ravaged by war, and Prague is one of them." "Cool! We get to visit Prague castle, if it's still there." Harrison exclaimed. "I'm not done yet." Lewis said with a frown. "Our objective is this man." He displayed a photograph of a bearded, heavyset man on the helicopter's screen. "We need to take him out." "How?" Fuchs piped up. "Well, it says here `Terminate with extreme prejudice', so I guess that means..." "We waste him." Roberts finished. Lewis sighed. "I suppose." He replied. "Don't worry about it now. We need some time to recon the site. We're lodged in the Hotel Excelsior, and that's quite a posh place." "I heard the food's good there as well." Lee said. "Oh, did I mention? This isn't the battlefield. You are expected to be clothed at all times." The team groaned. "Oh, come on. Just a shirt. That isn't so hard to do, is it?" Lewis said with exasperation. "And no running about in military slacks either. That means those camouflaged trousers off." "What do we wear then?" Brown asked. Lewis threw him a package, and inside the plastic bag a black suit was neatly folded. Franz pulled away to get a better look as Brown started adorning the suit. "There." Lewis said. "No, don't wear it now! Wait till we arrive. It's going to be a long flight. Across the middle east and all. Anyway, the bloke's name is Joachim Loganza. He sells guns to the opposing side. I've heard rumours he's killed a couple of boys like us just because they didn't want to pick his guns up." "Hmm... seems like a `kick in the bollocks' mission." James said. "Guess so. Can't wait to shoot him in those." Roberts said in response. Brown turned and had his first good look at Franz. The German boy was as tall as he was, but lacked the six pack. Grey eyes with a slight bluish colouring near the pupil gazed with intrigue at him. His brown hair fell silkily down from his forehead. His chest stood out prominently from his torso, and a pink fifty-pence sized nipple protruded from each breast. They were not puffy like his, but took the bulbous shape of Blake's. The bullet holes in his chest looked horrible from Brown's position. Franz hissed in pain as Brown lightly stroked his nipples. He had not recovered from the injections that Brown had given him to save his life. "I'm sorry." Brown said, as he stroked the boy's smooth chest, awkwardly avoiding the bullet holes. Franz nodded, tearing with pain from his eyes. Jaeger mumbled in his sleep, turning over and resting his right cheek on Blake's lap. The Australian looked quizzically at the Swedish boy. Then, he tentatively reached out and touched Jaeger on his bare shoulder. Just a touch. He drew back in alarm as Jaeger sighed softly. "D-do that some-some more..." Jaeger yawned. Blake awkwardly ran his finger over Jaeger's arm, and the Swedish boy shied away with ticklishness. Finally, he just grabbed Blake's hand and placed it over his stomach. And then he slumbered on. The rest of the team made idle chat or dug into their bags for various articles of reading. Brown noticed that Fuchs was staring at him and Franz, almost jealously, as he stroked the German's hair. "Dude, man... I'm gonna be honest with you, okay?" Franz said. Brown gazed at him in surprise. A few moments ago this boy had failed all attempts at translating German into English. "You know the Liberation army? Yeah. I was their... like... their interpreter, man. I wanted to make sure that I could trust you before I like... spoke English. Properly." The rest of the team looked on in surprise. This boy could speak near perfect English, but with a mixed accent. "I see. Where were you educated?" "Malaysia." This tropical peninsular still existed, but it was the metropolis of corruption. Kuala Lumpur still maintained its position as the core of the country, and looked none the worse for wear. A myriad of international schools still existed there, and Franz was probably kidnapped from one of them. A golden pendant intricately moulded to form an "F" hung from his neck, dangling squarely beside both rather large nipples. "Oh, this makes conversation so much easier." "Yeah, like dohh..." Franz said, much like an adolescent with raging hormones. "Mind if I check your nipples again?" Franz' eyes widened in anticipation. "They hurt like hell, dude." "I'll be gentle." "Okay." Brown slowly caressed both the large pink buds and Franz' eyes rolled up into his head as he was overwhelmed by the amazing sensation. "Duuuude... Man!" He moaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. "No one's ever done this to me... They've never been this sensitive before... ohhhh... ohh god." He threw his head back again, and his chest was thrust upwards as his back arched nearly to breaking point as the feelings overcame him. Brown lowered him down onto the seats, and continued to massage the pink buds. Brown felt some pressure on the inside of Franz chest, and squeezed out the excess hydrostatic fluid. Franz gasped with pain and panted as though he was running a race as Brown tried to heal him. His soft, eloquent moans filled the helicopter as he leant back with his eyes closed. "Dude, man, stop... please." Franz began to beg after a few minutes of pain. Brown let go, and the German boy flopped onto the seat, spent. He shifted, and rested his head on Brown's lap. Brown played with Franz' hair for a few minutes, and he suddenly noticed that beneath the brown exterior of the boy's moderately long hair, the roots of each individual strand were of a dirty blonde colour, just like Jaeger's. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Franz had already made himself comfortable and snuggled himself up to Brown. "Oh god, that feels better, man." He sighed, gently caressing his own bulging chest. Brown gazed at the German. He was slowly falling in love with this former enemy of the Coalition. He thought back to the old days where propaganda from the Coalition stated that the terrorist cells were full of people who were filled with hatred; foul, cruel monsters. People like Franz. The reality of the situation began to dawn on him. The terrorist cells kidnapped boys and girls to serve them, and placed the boys in the battlefield. They had to serve, or they would be shot. No choice. They couldn't desert either, because they would be mowed down by the Coalition as they approached. Such was life. He stroked the hard chest bone between Franz breasts, noticing with awe that the chest was neatly separated by the two bulges. Franz smiled, and closed his eyes. He took hold of Brown's hands, and placed them on his stomach. Brown was enthralled by the smoothness of the skin, the slight stickiness of it as he ran his fingers over the amazingly soft skin. He explored Franz' shallow navel, and the German let out an "Dude, man." of ticklishness as he shivered. His perfect ribs and abdomen were exposed with every breath, and his kidneys were soft to the touch. He was beautiful. He had freckles scattered around his nose and eyes, while his eyes themselves were an interesting combination of blue, purple and brown. The serene face, in rest, made Brown's heart melt. How could someone be so cruel to such a boy? "James." "Yesss?" "The hydrostatic fluid that I injected into Franz... will it stay for long, or will he have to come back to base for the whole process?" "Well, the fluid injected is barely enough, which is why I pumped some more into him while he was unconscious. He's got the same characteristics as the rest of us. But we just have to wait for his chest wounds to heal. Then he'll need to go for training, and he'll be watched with a close eye." "Oh." "Dude, I'm not asleep, you know?" Franz' voice started him. "Oh crap." He tickled the German boy's stomach, and Franz began laughing soundlessly as he bucked in response. His hands fended Brown's fingers away in vain as his chest heaved up and down with laughter, exposing his ribs intermittently. He quickly turned over onto his stomach, so Brown tickled his ribs. "Oh man... oh... oh... uh..." he gasped, as Brown released him. "Dude, you're like... stabbing my shoulders, man." He complained, as Brown massaged his neck. He squirmed with discomfort, and shifted so that his front was exposed to Brown. "Fine." Brown stroked Franz' healing chest and the boy fell asleep in under a minute. Brown chatted idly with the team members, and eventually dozed off, leaning his head back against the leather seat. A squeeze on his arm brought him to consciousness. He opened his eyes reluctantly, and shook Franz slightly to wake him. "Uhhhh..." the boy sighed awake. "Dude, where are we?" "Didn't you hear Cayden? We're in Prague." "Oh." He allowed himself to be helped out of the helicopter, and leant against Brown as it took off again. "Mike! You're not wearing the clothes I gave you. Franz as well!" "Damn." He gently pushed Franz over to the Silvers, and donned the black clothing that Lewis had thrown to him earlier, while the twins dressed Franz, amidst words of disapproval. "I can wear my clothes, man." "Alright." Lewis' voice barked through the serene green landscape, on the outskirts of the city. "It's a ten mile walk to the city to our hotel. This is nothing for you, but Hans and Franz will need some help on the way. Manage your weight." "Ugh." Roberts groaned, as he hefted Jaeger up on his shoulders and strode off. Brown looked at Franz, and raised his eyebrows. "Come on." He helped the German boy to his feet and draped his arm over the boy's shoulder. Fuchs came up from the left and coaxed his way under the boy's other arm. Together, they trudged the muddy path toward Prague. The wind blew upon their clothed bodies, making them wish that they had it upon their bare chests. Two and a half hours later, they arrived at the Excelsior hotel. The concierge at the hotel viewed Lewis with a suspicious eye, and begrudgingly handed over the keys. The porters glanced curiously at Jaeger and Franz, who were in states of semi-consciousness. "Yes. Follow please, sir." A porter finally spoke up, and led them to the elevator, bringing them up to the fourth floor. "Room number 311." The porter stopped. "You sure you don't want other room for rest of people?" he motioned to the rest of the team, which now numbered a dozen. Blake yawned. "No, thank you." Lewis said firmly, holding his hand out for the key card. The porter shrugged, and tossed the white plastic card over, before heading back to the elevator, glancing back every now and again. "Oh shit!" Lewis suddenly exclaimed. "What?" "I forgot to take my eyepiece off. That's why that little bugger there was giving me the weirdest looks." The team chuckled. Lewis scowled, and opened the door, padding inside. Brown sighed at the extravagant sight. There were two queen sized beds neatly arranged beside each other, a walk in wardrobe, and a luxurious bathroom. "Wow..." Jaeger sighed, as he was unceremoniously flipped onto the bed by Roberts. "So soft... haven't lain in such comfort for such a long time." Brown unbuttoned his own shirt and flung it over the bedpost. He noticed Fuchs and Franz staring at his bare torso. "Hey, what're you guys lookin' at?" Both of them quickly shook their heads and shed their own shirts as well, revealing half-developed bodies. Brown fumbled in his pocket for his eyepiece and checked the time. 5.30 pm. Plenty of time for reconnaissance later. He realised he was absolutely starving. And evidently, he wasn't the only one. Franz' stomach growled loudly, and he rubbed it with a wince. "Dude, man. I'm hungry. When're we gonna eat?" "Well, now that you mention it, the hotel's got a spanking buffet at about six thirty. So... I guess you can help yourselves to whatever that's here while we wait." Brown groaned with dismay; he had expected to be given food sooner. The next best alternative presented itself: sleep. He jumped onto the beds, and crawled over to where Jaeger lay, spread-eagled. He nudged the Swedish boy to the head of the bed, and placed his head upon a pillow. Then, he lay beside the blonde boy, and closed his eyes, trying to find sleep. It was slightly too cold for him in the room, and for a moment he decided on adjusting his regulator. However, he knew that Fuchs would not be able to resist his exposed body with arms stretched out, revealing his mole infused chest and sunken stomach. Sure enough, a light weight in the form of the German boy settled upon him. Fuchs let out a little sigh like he always did. The boy grunted as he made himself comfortable, and Brown felt the vibration reverberate through his own body. He stroked Fuchs' smooth back, and kneaded his spinal cord. Fuchs groaned even more and pressed down upon him, breathing slowly. "Mm... what do you think about Franz?" Brown managed to grunt. "Hmm? It's nice knowing someone from my own country." Fuchs replied. "I think he's trustworthy." Brown glanced over to Franz, who was making small talk with the rest of the team and making them laugh with his funny "dude-like" attitude. His chest had made amazing progress, and now dark red spots were visible where the two bullets had once penetrated. Brown noticed Roberts occasionally glancing at them with a faint expression of regret. He wasn't sure whether it was regret for not killing him, or regret for shooting him in the first place. His doubts were dissuaded, however, when Roberts leant forward and took Franz by the shoulders, muttering soft words to him, and then pressing his forehead against the German's freckled forehead as a sign of affection. Franz simply said "It's okay, dude. I wouldn't have been here if you hadn't done that. I really, really like this team." He looked around the room, and caught Brown's eye. He smiled, and Brown grinned back. "...anyway, I wonder what his skills are, besides using a pistol." Fuchs' words jerked Brown back to his latter conversation. "Oh, right. I dunno. Need to ask him." "Ah well, we'll soon find that out. Anyway, I wanna sleep." He shifted again, pressing his chest against Brown's, and sighing softly. Brown concurred, and fell asleep, hugging the German boy as if he was a pillow. "Mike. It's dinner-time." Lewis whispered softly in his ear, a change from the yelling he usually heard. "Come on. Wake your two German friends and Hans, and be down in five minutes. Or else there'll be no dinner." He padded out of the room but left the door open. "Ughh..." Brown groaned, as he shrugged Fuchs off him. He realised with surprise that Franz was lying beside three of them, head resting on Jaeger's stomach. He prodded all of them, and each awoke with varying yawns and grunts. "Hans, how're you feeling?" he asked the Swedish boy. "Oh, I'm good. I think I'll be able to make my own way down." Jaeger hoisted himself to his feet and hobbled over to the door. Brown glared at him with exasperation. "Go help him." He ordered Fuchs. "Please." Franz stirred beside him. "Dude, can you like... help me downstairs? I'm so hungry, man." "Sure." He threw Franz shirt at him, and the boy buttoned it up. Two minutes later, Franz sat on Brown's shoulders and hugged his head for support. As he got ready to exit the room, Fuchs rushed in with haste. He grinned sheepishly at Brown. "Forgot to grab our shirts." He whisked the shirts off the bedpost and ran down the corridor. Brown shook his head with mock exasperation. "Dude, are they always like that?" "Nah. They're good people." He carried Franz all the way down to the dining hall, drawing stares from the hotel's patrons as the passed. It was lavishly decorated, with swinging chandeliers and even music in the form of a pianist. Brown looked around and finally spotted James waving at him from a table at the far end of the restaurant. He made his way there and gently placed Franz on an empty seat, and then going over to join Jaeger, who was leaning back against his chair. "It's a buffet, Mike. Get some food." Roberts said. Brown obliged, and piled his plate high with food. As they were eating, a brilliantly blonde teenager who looked no more than thirteen years of age strode into the dining hall, dressed in a long black cloak, and wearing sunglasses. He spotted them, and padded over to their table sleekly. "Ah hello, Kyle." Lewis extended his hand. The boy took it. "May I have a seat?" he said in heavily accented English. "Of course." Room was quickly made and "Kyle" sat on a chair beside Lewis. "What's our mission status?" Lewis asked. "It's a green light. You are to terminate with extreme prejudice. At your own time. However, you may find this piece of information useful: he's attending some sort of a weapons conference some time next week in..." he rattled off the street address, and Lewis reached under the table to key the information into his PDA. "Alright. Now can I get something to eat?" he glanced around the room, taking off his sunglasses. Brilliant green eyes were revealed, along with a beautiful freckled nose. Brown's heart dropped into his stomach as he admired the boy's looks. The need for food overwhelmed him, though, and he ate to his heart's content. As he downed a glass of orange juice, he felt suddenly sleepy. He stood up, meaning to mention this to Lewis, when suddenly blue speckles of light buzzed inside his head and he knew no more. He gasped awake, nipples stinging from the injection that Jurgen had given him. They were inside the hotel room, and the entire team was armed; guarding points of entry. He vaguely made out Lewis questioning the blonde boy they had encountered in the hotel restaurant, when James' face blotted the scene out. "James? What's going on?" the doctor scrunched up his face. "We should have known. This whole thing was a set up. `Kyle', or whatever his name is, tried to poison all of us. The fool didn't realise that we can't be killed that way." "Ugh..." he was feeling groggy, and the stinging pain in his nipples was beginning to intensify. He groaned aloud with pain, and attempted to rub the aching areas. James slapped his hand away, and applied painkillers to his nubbins. His groan apparently multiplied Lewis' incense, and he watched as his team leader punched the blonde boy's face quite hard, causing his nose to bleed. The boy resumed the interrogation with much more vigour than before. "How did you..." "Know?" James finished the sentence. "You collapsed, remember? We were smart enough not to touch the drinks. He tried to make a run for it when he realised the cat was out of the bag." He motioned to Kyle. "But why would he do that?" "I dunno." That answered Brown's questions... for now. "Can I go back to sleep? My stomach's not doing too well, and I've got a splitting headache." "Oh, don't worry, mate. We've got it all covered. You're not required for the moment. We're just going to find out whether he revealed our position to our hit. Then, maybe we have to move." "Gimme my gun." James retrieved his XM8 from his duffel bag and handed it to him. "Take it easy." "Just in case." James nodded his acknowledgement. He watched the intense interrogation that was being given to the blonde boy seated on a chair, three rifles trained on him. "I'm going to ask you again." Lewis jabbed a finger at him. "How the bloody hell did you know where to find us?" Kyle let out a sob. "That old bastard gave me this address and this bag of powder." He reached into his pocket as Roberts cocked his gun menacingly, ready to fire if the article in question was a weapon. Kyle tossed a plastic bag filled with white powder to Lewis, who in turn handed it to James gingerly. "I don't know how he knew that you were here. Please..." The green eyes bored into Lewis' blue eyes. "Am I gonna die? Are you gonna kill me?" "No." Lewis responded. "We need you for other more important things. Like identifying the `old bastard's position. There is one thing you need to tell me for your own protection." "What?" Kyle sniffed. "Is our position here compromised? Do we need to move?" "No. All he knows is that you're having dinner here. He doesn't know you're staying here." "Alright. You'd better be telling the truth, or you'll pay for it." "I am... please... you don't understand. He's going to kill me for this. He's going to do all sorts of nasty things. I've seen him torture people like me. He hangs them up by their hands and slowly drives a long knife through their stomachs. Their screams... I can never forget them." "Oh Jesus." Matthew Silver swore. "So where's the real Kyle?" Lewis asked, unperturbed. The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Probably dead." "You need to go back..." Lewis began, and the boy covered his face with his hands, sobbing with fear. "Okay, maybe not. He's going to suspect something amiss, though." "That's why we need to move fast." Roberts said. Lewis nodded. "You're right, of course. We'll leave tomorrow morning. Get some sleep." He looked over at Kyle. "I'd have someone watch over you, but I think you realise that you need us as much as we need you. I need to tend to my team mate. Good night." Brown felt Lewis' touch on his stomach and sighed. "You alright, mate?" "Yeah... I'm fine, Cayden. I just feel sick, that's all." "Thank god you have that implant. If you had been lost, I wouldn't have known what to do." "Thanks for caring." "We need your medical expertise." Lewis tried to dismiss it, but Brown knew that inwardly, he cared for his entire team, and especially for his brother. He shifted to make room for his squad leader. Lewis grinned, and removed his eyepiece before lying down beside him. "I'd offer to massage you, but I'm a little indisposed at the moment." Lewis chuckled. Behind him, Roberts and Blake hauled `Kyle' over to the couch and pushed him onto it, throwing a blanket obtained from the cabinet at him. Brown gently laid his XM8 on the carpeted floor, and rolled onto his stomach. He suddenly felt fingers pressing upon his shoulder blades, and looked around. Lewis was perched atop him, and was giving him a somewhat inexperienced massage, despite what he had said earlier. In surprise, Brown glanced over to the staff sergeant, who smiled sheepishly at him. Nevertheless, Brown enjoyed it, and fell asleep amidst the occasional chatter of his team mates as they maintained overwatch. "Dennie, it's time to get up." Brown heard James whisper to the weight atop his back. Lewis had apparently placed a pillow atop his shoulders and lain there after he had finished with the massage. The weight above him shifted, and Lewis groaned audibly as he woke. "Jesus, already?" Brown felt himself being rubbed on the back as Lewis tried to wake him up. "Yeah, yeah..." he mumbled, squirming slightly. He turned over, and groaned as he sat up, clutching his aching stomach. "You alright?" Jaeger asked. "I'll be fine. No worries." He replied, reaching under the bed to retrieve his rifle. His stomach throbbed, and he sat down again in a hurry with a moan. He kept his stomach in a six-pack just in case the pain began again. James noticed his scrunched up face, and hurried over to him. He placed a conical device over Brown's stomach, and looked at information on the datapad connected to it. "Your stomach acids are reacting to the toxins in the poison. We injected some nano-bots into you to help lessen the effect. You may need some help bending over but that's about it." James informed him. "Straighten and stretch your body whenever you can. Helps ease passage through the villi and intestinal ducts." James helped him to his feet and handed him his XM8. Brown made to pick up his backpack, but James stopped him in time, and flung it over to Lewis, who in turn beckoned to a drowsy `Kyle' and motioned to the backpack. "Let's move out before that bastard finds us." Lewis whispered, and they silently left the hotel room, all cover extinguished, weapons drawn. They took the stairs instead. At the foot of the stairs, Lewis halted. "Load rubber bullets into your weapons. We don't want to kill whoever's attacking us if they're non-military." The team did as instructed. Lewis pointed forward, and they advanced, covering each other's positions, weapons at the ready. "Tango! Three o clock!" Roberts yelled as he triggered his submachine gun. A strangled yell was heard, as a boy crumpled to the carpeted floor, clutching his stomach. A few more enemy soldiers appeared from the entrance of the hotel, and were promptly dealt with. As the last soldier fell, he triggered his rifle and sent several rounds spiralling into Fuchs' stomach and kidney, narrowly missing his navel. The result was an agonized scream from the German boy, followed by a fading moan as Fuchs dropped to his knees, already limp with pain. "We don't have time for this!" Lewis exclaimed, and took Fuchs under his arm. They filed onto the streets of the Czech Republic and managed to slip away into the shadows of the early 6am morning. "Lewis to Jacobus. Come in." Brown vaguely heard his leader speak into his radio, as he squeezed the bullets out of the semi-conscious Fuchs. They were in a safe house that Lewis had plotted very fortunately onto his HUD. "Mike..." the boy groaned. "It hurtssss..." he slurred. He let out another groan of pain as Brown applied the painkillers onto his affected areas. "Oh, you'll be fine. Just like every one of us." "I have soft skin, remember?" Fuchs managed a weak smile. "Ugh!" he fell back onto Jurgen's lap as Brown started on another area. "Coby, we've been set up. He knew we were coming from the very beginning. What are your orders now?" Lewis spoke into the radio. A few moments passed, and then an expression of conviction entered his face. "Very well." "Alright, people. The mission's still on. Whatever means necessary." He announced. "I'm going to recon the area where this bastard's supposed to be. Matt, you're on point. And Martin of course will guard our back." He beckoned to both of them. "Let's go." They left the building into the cold morning, shivering slightly even though they had regulators and were wearing clothes. "Wow... shut the door, will you?" Fuchs said. "Cold." The painkillers were beginning to take effect, and Fuchs no longer squirmed or cringed in pain. He stretched out his bruised body, exposing his ribs and white skin. "Ah... keep doing that." He murmured, as Franz very gently ran his hands over his chest, pressing into the blue-veined skin. "It's just bad luck, dude. I get that all the time." Franz said, in a matter-of-fact tone. He eyed the bruises on Fuchs' torso with polite interest. "Mike? Can you like..." Fuchs' voice trailed off, as he realised that Franz was still there. "What?" "Nothing." Of course, Brown thought. "Alright, alright." He squeezed out some hydrostatic fluid from his navel, and applied a film of it over Fuchs' wounded body. The German boy moaned softly as he did so. "Let's carry him to the bed." He told Jurgen, who obliged. Brown's stomach contracted with queasiness as they hauled Fuchs over to the makeshift canvas bed and lowered him gently onto it. "Franz." "Yeah, man?" "Would you mind just lying down on Fritz till Cayden and the twins come back?" "Sure, man. But why?" "Well, you've got the implant as well as the rest of us, and you're hurt as well, so lying on him will accelerate both your healing processes." "Oh. Okay, dude." The dirty blonde haired boy very carefully lowered himself down onto Fuchs, who sighed and sighed as their bodies made contact. Suddenly, Brown's radio crackled into contact. "Mike." Lewis' English accent was crisp. "I need you down here right away. Take a left turn after you exit the safehouse, and we'll meet you one mile down the road. Move it!" Groaning, Brown picked up his rifle, suited up, and made his way to the rendezvous point. Ten minutes later, of frantic jogging, and holding his aching stomach, he met Lewis and the twins. "The reason I called you here is that James and Jurgen both aren't trained in combat. I think we're going to see some action in there, and things could get ugly." Brown nodded. "You ready?" "Yeah." "Okay." Lewis walked a further ten metres down the path, and Brown followed. As he turned the corner, he found Lewis waiting beside an open manhole. At a sign, he climbed down, following the twins. As he regained his composure, and adjusted his eyepiece to display night vision, he gasped. This was an underground complex, complete with smelly passageways and dirty floors! "Eyes and ears open. I'll take the point." Lewis said, and they advanced slowly down the narrow corridor. At one point, Lewis stopped, and pointed ahead. A door loomed at the end of the passage, and they slowly walked towards it, rifles at the ready. Lewis held up his fist, halting them. Then, he very gently tried the handlebar on the door. It whined open, as all un-oiled metal doors do. "Jesus Christ." Brown could not help letting out an oath, as they entered a huge hall, very obviously damaged by war. Broken furniture, collapsed beams, non-functional weapons, there was a plethora of that type of material. What caught Brown's (and most probably the rest of the fire-team's) eyes the most was the great amount of bodies that were strewn all over the floor, in every possible death position. A massive battle had taken place here, and upon further inspection, Lewis announced that the dead boys could hardly have left the world more than 48 hours. Brown gazed with pity and sadness at all the Coalition boys that did not have the opportunity to receive the hydrostatic implant. Gaping bullet holes peppered their bodies, and Brown had to look away from a blonde boy whose kidneys had taken three bullets, resulting in the boy arching his back forward as he grasped his sides, only to be stabbed in the stomach with a knife. The boy's face now took on a ghastly expression of death, as he remained in that position, knife still sticking out of his abdomen. He heard a faint "Uh..." and looked around, swivelling his rifle to the direction of the sound. The rest of the team had heard that too and together they advanced toward a doorway blocked with dead boy soldiers. "Life signs detected. Can't tell whether it's a hostile entity or not." Martin said, holding up a motion sensor. "Flashlights." Lewis ordered. Brown turned on the SureFire flashlight attached to his XM8, and illuminated the doorway. The twins let out an audible gasp, as they saw a brown haired boy, clad only in the infantry's standard uniform: a modified version of a black Speedo-like all-terrain suit, breathing weakly, and gazing at them. The Coalition had insufficient finance to properly equip their basic infantry, so they provided them with a cheap rifle, and this piece of thin polymer, just to give them common decency. The soldiers could wear any type of clothing when they were off-duty, but when they were called to battle, they had to shed all their clothes except the uniform, and fight like that, in order to differentiate themselves from the enemy. The boy was kneeling against the pile of bodies. And behind him was... another boy? This soldier had the blue eyepiece that differentiated the Special Forces team from the normal troops. A quick glance at Martin, and the New Zealander shook his head sadly. The former comrade's head drooped over the brown haired soldier's shoulder, eyes closed to the cruel world he had abandoned. He appeared to be holding the soldier in an embrace; his left hand cupped the brown haired boy's left breast, and his right hand was firmly pressed against the boy's abdomen. Both their bodies were latched together tightly. Brown choked away his tears of anguish as he pried his unknown comrade's hands away from the brown haired soldier. With surprise, he noticed that the soldier had been fatally shot. Four bullets had found their way into his abdomen, and one stray bullet had pierced the boy's left breast. "He knew..." The soldier rasped out, voice barely pubescent. "He knew he was gonna die. They shot him with those special bullets that pierced his chest." Brown pulled him away from the dead boy, whose eyepiece fell off. Matthew caught it, and handed it to Lewis, who stowed it away in his tactical pocket. Brown eyed the soldier's back, and saw several more bullet wounds. This soldier should have been dead. A long time ago. So why was he still alive? And the only survivor of this deadly melee? He glanced over at his unknown comrade. The boy's chest was unusually red, and his nipples had gone a dark purple. He must have been shot with the same bullets that Jaeger had been, thought Brown, a chill running through his spine. He must have died a very painful death. And then he remembered that his hydrostatic implant would sustain the dying. He must have, just before he felt the dreadful pain, grabbed one mortally wounded Coalition soldier, and held him until he died. His fluid would have at least partially healed the soldier's wounds, enough to keep him alive for a few days. Brown's eyes teared at the thought of the valiant act that this boy had committed. To die for a... a grunt. Someone of low rank. Someone who was recruited just to die. He knelt before the dead blonde soldier, and bowed his head in honour.