Date: Sat, 23 Jul 2022 05:12:37 -0400 From: Michael Wisser Subject: Barracks Bitch Chapter 24 Hey Readers: If you like this story, please consider sending in a donation to Nifty so that this site can keep going. Just use the link: https://donate.nifty.org/) Thanks! 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, Harris. I'll be out in a minute." Harris? "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 `Delnick'. 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 Delnick will be back at the shed tonight, I guarantee it. And Barnell is driving the bus, so Delnick 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."