Andrews smirked. “John Fuckin’ Doe. Next question?”

At the Commander’s nod, two rifle stocks came down on the long muscles of the soldier’s thigh. Andrews cried out in pain, slumping in the chair once again, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead and under his nose. “Your name, American.”

“Benito Mussolini from Bum Fuck, Egypt,” Andrews gasped out. A thundering blow to his jaw snapped the Marine’s head back against the chair and the world spun crazily on its axis for long seconds.

“Your name.”

“Dom Perignone, 1936,” the soldier moaned. A blow to his right collarbone, the bone snapping like a rifle shot, the sound echoing throughout the sterile room.

Al-Hassein walked over to the semi-conscious man, lifting the sopping hair and peering into the soldier’s pain glazed eyes. “Why do you have to make things so hard on yourself, my friend?” False compassion rang through his voice. “The pain will end if you just tell me your name.”

Andrews gathered what little bilious spit was left in his mouth and shot it at the Commander’s face, hitting him directly between bushy black eyebrows.

Al-Hassein stepped back, wiping the spittle from his brow and nodding to one of the guards. Andrews screamed as the butt of the man’s rifle came directly down between his spread thighs, squashing his genitals like a ripe melon. The Marine’s arms and legs drew inward as he hunched over, vomiting squarely into his abused lap. Then he passed out cold.

Sighing and shaking his head, Al-Hassein cleaned his wet fingers on an immaculate white handkerchief. “Take him down to his friends,” he ordered the guards in Arabic. “Unbind the others and let them live with his pain tonight. We’ll start up again tomorrow.”

“Yes, my Commander,” one of the guards intoned. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No food or water for any of them. Oh, and make sure none of them gets a wink of sleep tonight. That will be all.”

“Yes, Commander.” Unbinding the unconscious soldier from the chair, the guards removed him from the room.

Pressing his handkerchief back into his pocket, Al-Hassein returned to his seat behind his desk, sighing again. “Americans,” he mused sadly as he picked up his pen. “Such pitiful representatives of humanity. The world will be much better off without them.”

Only the walls of the office heard his thoughts as the Commander returned to work.

The slamming open of the steel door scared Reingold out of a year’s worth of growth and he jumped up from his place by the drain, barely avoiding the body of Andrews as it was thrown into the cell. The guards laughed and retreated from the cell, slamming the door tightly shut behind them.

Kael gathered the young man up in her arms and gently turned him over so his face could be seen. Dried blood crusted around his nostrils and mouth. One side of his jaw sported massive swelling and the first hints of horrid bruising that seemed to take shape before their eyes, competing with a day’s growth of beard for space on his face.

“Aww shit, Gunny,” Reingold whispered, taking stock of his companion. “What did they do to him?”

“A little manual persuasion,” Kael replied shortly, noting the fractured collarbone by the odd angle of the Marine’s right arm. Laying the unconscious body gently down on the wet ground, she lifted the front of his thin robes, baring Andrews’ swollen abdomen.

“Aww bloody fuck,” Reingold whispered again, taking in the injuries. “Think he’s got something busted inside?”

Kael gently probed the muscled abdomen, feeling for warmth or involuntary guarding. “No. These guys know what they’re doing. They want us around for awhile yet.” Her eyes tracking down to the massively swollen bulge hidden beneath Andrews’ Marine issue Jockeys, Kael took a deep breath and gently tugged them down by the waistband.

Reingold’s gasp echoed through the tiny chamber, his eyes wide, his face pale, his hands involuntarily cupping his own groin in sympathy for the sight that greeted his eyes.

“Don’t go passing out on me now, Shooter,” Kael warned, gathering up her own robes and ripping off a large swath of cloth from the hem. “I’m gonna need your help here, so buck the hell up.”

“I …I don’t think I can take this, Gunny,” he replied in a tremulous voice.

“Step to, Marine!” Kael’s low voice rang out. A sharp sound followed as her callused palm connected with the panicked man’s cheek.

As if in a trance, Reingold reached a hand up to caress his cheek, looking at his commanding officer with wide eyes. “Why’d ya hit me, Gunny?”

“Because you were acting like a horse’s ass, Shooter,” Kael commented, tearing the cloth in two and dipping both parts into the chilled fetid water that pooled on the floor of their cell. Folding both cloths into neat squares, she pressed one over Andrews’ groin and the other over his abdomen. “Not worthy of Johns Hopkins, but it’ll do for now.” Her eyes lanced up at Reingold who seemed to have regained some of his coloring. “I’ll need your help for this next part,” she said softly, pulling up the Marine’s undershorts and pulling down his gown.

“W-what do you want me to do?”

“Rip off a piece of your robe about this big,” she said, indicating the length by the spread of her hands.

Doing as he was ordered, Reingold handed the cloth to Kael. “What do you need it for?”

“His collarbone’s fractured and mis-aligned. I’m gonna need your help to set it properly, then we’re gonna bind his arm to his chest. We’ll have to take it off before the guards come back, but it’ll lessen his pain for now. You ready?”

“I …I think so.”

Kael looked at him, her eyes warming. “You’re a good man, Shooter. C’mon. Help me lift him up.” When the soldier was leaning against her chest, Kael gestured to her companion. “Ok, hold his arm straight out. Yeah, just like that. Now keep holding and don’t let go, alright?” At the Marine’s nod, Gunny took a deep breath, clenching and releasing the fingers of her numbed right hand. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch. Thank the gods he’s unconscious. Ready? One. Two. Three. Now.” With a sharp jab, Kael drove the heel of her hand into Andrews’ collar bone. The two ends of the bone aligned with a sharp snap.

Reingold gulped convulsively. “I think I’m gonna puke,” he groaned, his face pale once again.

“Steady, Shooter. Almost done. Now bring his arm across his body gently so his hand’s against his other shoulder. Perfect. Now hold his arm there nice and tight while I push him up so I can bind it to his chest.”

Within moments, the job was done and the still unconscious Andrews rested more comfortably, his head and shoulders pillowed in Kael’s lap. She looked up at the still pale Reingold and smiled slightly. “Good job, Shooter,” she commented warmly. “Ya might never make it as a Medic, but I think I’ll keep ya around anyway.”

Reingold smiled sickly at her in response.

Making herself more comfortable against the crumbling wall, Kael reached down and gently stroked Andrews’ sweat soaked hair. She raised her voice slightly. “Reg and Kelly. You guys still with us over there?”

“Yeah, we’re here, Gunny. We heard what you were doin’ in there. Andrews’ alright now?”

“He’ll live. Now listen up. I’ve been through this drill before. It’s a sure bet that sleep’s the last thing we’re gonna get tonight, but that’s ok because we’re Marines, right?”

“Right!” came the shouted, proud response.

“Good. I want us all working every minute of the night. Study your cells. Look for any weaknesses. Study the guards’ patterns very carefully. Watch the way they open the doors. Watch the way they close ‘em. Look ‘em in the eye and let ‘em know you’re not afraid. If we work together, we can find a way out of this, alright?”

Yells of assent echoed through the cells.

Reingold sat with his back hunched up against the cell wall, dripping wet from the impromptu shower the group had received to make sure no one was sleeping. The fat nozzles of high pressure hoses had protruded through the small slit in the steel door, water blasting from their mouths with dangerous force. Andrews had screamed shrilly at the blast, then slipped into merciful unconsciousness yet again, Kael’s body wrapped protectively around the wounded soldier.

Running a dripping hand through his hair, the young Marine studied Kael’s huddled form, watching as the glittering blue eyes darted around the room, resting on nothing for more than a second before moving on. ‘What’s going through that mind of yours, Gunny?’ he thought. In his own way, Reingold loved Kael. She was almost like that tired cliché of the sister he never had. They’d met in basic and had pretty much been together ever since, their interests and talents meshing well; their goals meshing equally well. He felt no sense of jealousy when the woman quickly surpassed him in rank. Chose to follow her willingly into hell and back, seeing the excellent leadership abilities even back when they were young and green as spring branches. His nickname came from the fact that he was an expert marksman, but she was his better in even that. In fact, in his considered opinion, and one which he never minded sharing loudly and often, especially while on a bender, he couldn’t think of a single Marine who was her better at anything. ‘What went wrong this time, Kael? We were supposed to just go in, do the deed and get out. It’s not like we’ve never done this sort of thing before. When did you finally find your conscience?’

He opened his mouth to ask the questions his mind was speaking, then shut it quickly, catching Kael’s eye as she perused the room yet again. The gaze that dropped back down to the injury riddled form in her lap was filled with guilt and self-loathing. He remembered that look well. It always came over her face when she talked about the death of her beloved brother Kevin.

Reingold slumped back against the wall as he remembered the story of Kevin’s death in a hazing mishap at VMI. Kael and her brother had been as close as two peas in a pod; sharing everything. Their mutual goal was to follow their much honored father into the prestigious halls of the Academy, to honor the memory of the man whom each worshipped.

Unfortunately, at that time, the gender rules were strictly enforced and though she could have passed every entrance exam easily, Kael was denied admission. She fought hard for the right to enter the school, but to no avail. Loathe to talk her brother out of his dream of attending, Kael said goodbye to Kevin one late summer morning and never saw him again. She blamed herself for his death, rationalizing that if she had only fought harder to change the archaic rules, her brother would never have died. No one could talk her out of the feeling; she carried it with her still. She vowed on his grave to spend her life proving to the powers that be that a woman had as much right in the military as a man. ‘And damn if you didn’t do it, Kael. I know that somewhere, Kevin’s looking down at his big sister, proud as hell. I only wish you believed it.’

He sighed and turned his gaze away from the two figures, not really surprised when the nozzles entered again, blasting them all with their icy jets. Mercifully, Andrews remained deeply asleep, the brunt of the blast borne by the brave woman protecting his battered body with her own.

The night passed slowly and quickly at the same time. At regular intervals, icy water drenched the group, preventing sleep, preventing thought as their bodies shivered and trembled in the cold, still air of the cells.

After several tense hours, Andrews finally came fully awake to find himself propped in Kael’s lap, a pair of concerned blue eyes looking down at him. “How are you feeling?” Kael asked, continuing to stroke the wet hair from his forehead.

He tried to crack a smile, though his face felt like he was holding a pool ball in his cheek. “Alright,” he rasped, then looked around as if only now fully aware of his position. A leer curved the undamaged side of his face. “Hot damn, Gunny. If I’d have known that the way to get between your legs was to get the shit beaten outta me, I’d ‘a had Goldielocks over there rough me up a long time ago.”

At her arched eyebrow, Andrews laughed, coughing and gasping as pain tore through his abused gut. “Aww shit,” he groaned after getting his breath back. “This just hasn’t been my day.”

“You’ve had a time of it,” Kael agreed, shifting slightly beneath his head. “C’mon. We need to get you sitting up. The guards should be back soon.”

Andrews cried out as Kael shifted his position, grabbing her arm with feeble strength. “Can’t sit, Gunny. Gotta lie down. Lying down is good. Real good.” His breath came out in whistling gasps as sweat came again to bathe his temples.