Serve Your....Enemy? ((Closet_freak & SOULdier))

[Closet_freak]

Pressure, squeezing in upon both sides of her head. Ears ringing, deaf to the noise that roared all around her. Something hard and unyielding dug painfully into her side, her left temple pulsing with each beat of her heart. A groan passed from parched lips as Rea rolled onto her side, brow furrowing against the pain which coursed through her body, fingers raking through the loose debris beneath her in search of some kind of purchase. Eyes finally forced themselves open, the world tilting and sliding before her as she pushed herself upward and into a kneeling position.

~~~~~~~~

“Of all the god-forsaken places we’ve been sent, this has to be the worst...” A sandy haired male propped his back against a nearby building, snatching off his helmet and sweeping at his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. “You say that all the time!” Rea laughed, perched upon a rather large chunk of stone which had been broken off a nearby building by a IED some time ago, tilting her head back as she drained the contents of her canteen down her throat.

“Aye, well it’s true every time as well. Isn’t it?” A cheeky grin flashed in her direction as the helmet was returned to its place.

~~~~~~~

Rea raised a hand to her head, lips parting as she called out over the deafening silence in her head. “Rory? Rory?!” Her eyes lighted upon a pair of boots - standard issue army boots. Scrambling forward upon grazed hands and knees, she skirted around the larger chunks of debris to where she guessed the man’s head would lie. Sound was beginning to break past the ringing; someone was screaming, no wailing.

~~~~~~~

The small contingent of soldiers dragged themselves back to their feet, tightening their grip upon weapons or adjusting the cumbersome weight of their backpacks. Slowly they trekked through the ruined outskirts of a village, conversation having lapsed into tense silence. They had just traversed across a deserted street and back into the shelter of half-standing buildings. Rory made another wise-crack comment, turning his head to glance back at the only female member of their squad when the world erupted with sound and stone.

~~~~~~~

Clawing at a lump of rock, sandy hair came into view shortly followed by a face smeared with dirt and blood. “Oh god, Rory...” Frantically clearing what loose rubble she could get her hands on, Rea cleared away enough that she could see his neck and shoulders. Trembling fingers pressed against the man’s neck, breath held within her chest as her fingertips searched for a pulse. Tears began to build, eyes frantically scouring the still body for any signs of life and then there it was; the faintest of pulses shuddering against her fingertips.

He was alive! “I’m going to get you out of here, just hold on...” Her fingers tore and pried at the stone which covered the majority of her fallen comrade’s body, so engrossed in her task that she did not see the enemy troops approaching. Hands suddenly closed upon her arms, fingertips digging harshly into already bruised and painful skin as she was dragged backward and away from Rory. With all her strength she fought, straining every muscle as she jerked and twisted in their grasp until the ominous presence of a rifle pointed in her direction forced her to calm her movements.

The dusty boots of an enemy soldier came to rest inches away from Rory’s head, the male sneering down at the injured man as he unholstered his sidearm. Words were uttered in a language that Rea had long ago learnt to hate, words that she barely understood but for two – ‘No good’. A single shot rang out as the woman’s eyes were thrown wide and all concern for her own life dissolved into grief and utter hatred. Without warning she threw herself forward, catching those that held her by surprise she slipped free and charged toward the lone man.

She was upon him before he had a chance to turn the weapon on her, tackling him to the ground and with every ounce of strength that Rea had left within her rained down blows upon the prone man. Bone broke beneath her knuckles and blood spilt as she vented all her fury upon him while he screamed for someone to remove her.

The attack was short lived as rifle butt connect with skull and the world descended into darkness, her body falling limp against the man she had just bloodied and beaten. Sharp words were passed between the enemy soldiers and then the telltale pressure of a pistol pressed against her temple.

‘I’m going to die...’

And then unconsciousness took her.​

 

[SOULdier]

Jax leaned back into his chair, emerald eyes inspecting the miles of dessert ouside of his window. A part of him missed being in the center of the combat; the hand to hand, toe to toe battles. It was all about brute force then, who was faster, who was stronger. They were the grunts fighting the war. In here, you had to take a different approach. Brains, wit, strategy, endurance. They were all key to any sort of success. Twenty five years old was considered quite young to be Head Interrogator, but Jax was nice and clean about his work. Plain and simple, he got the information he wanted, when he wanted it. Nobody questioned his actions, and unless he permitted it, nobody was there to witness. Torture wasn't 'condoned' persay, but it was a war, and everyone did what they could to win. They were all patriots on their own right. Jax just happened to be a bit better at being cruel.

Heartless was pushing it, but this guy had a tough shell. Born and raised a fighter, Jax had laerned early on how to fend and take care of himself. Transitioning from childhod to adulthood hadn't been difficult, and deciding to fight for his country had been a no brainer. Not only was it honorable, Jax was pretty much made for it. Tall, broad shouldered, naturally strong and fast, with an intellect to keep you guessing. He was not to be underestimated. Early on he set the standard high for everyone else, and quickly he rose through the ranks. Now at the Southern Base on the outskirts of any sort of land, where the heat was intense and the desert nights unforgiving, he was beginning to feel the strain. Interrogating was easy - rarely did he come across a soldier to stubborn for him to break immediately. Staying cooped up out here nearly all alone, say for the passing soldiers who brought him his interrogation victims, or the injured soldiers there to get fixed up for battle. Don't get him wrong, Jax had always been a loner. However deep down, he wanted to be doing more. He was capable of being more.

"Sir, they've brought one prisoner." A voice greeted him, timid and male. Ignorant, a follower. Swiveling in his chair, Jax sighed heavily before standing. Just another day at the office. Running his fingers through his pale blonde hair, he didn't bother acknowleding the young man. He wanted to get this over with before dinner time rolled around. Walking carelessly through the hallways, it was palin to see how everyone either strayed away from him, or avoided eye contact. He emmanated a certain authority and a certain danger about him that kept people anxious. Jax wasn't afraid of harming other people. And truth be told, there was a sadistic part of him that took great pleasure in it at times.

Wrapping his hand around the metal doorknob, he twisted it open, fluorescent lights streaming into the otherwise dark room. Standard issue interrogation rooms, the prisoner was chained to the wall, while a lonesome chair sat in the center of the room for Jax to lounge in if he so pleased. Special cases called for special tools, which he had full access to in the storage facilities. Generally speaking however, most young men weren't as loyal to their country as they thought. Not when met with Jax Knight, of course. What Jax had expected was for this to be a routine interrogation, ending in some small piece of information that would give them a slight advantage. What he hadn't been expecting was a girl. Or at leasst, one that looked like a girl, anyway.

Arching an eyebrow, he reached over to the lightswitch, flicking it on. It was instantly so bright he was sure she would flinch nad it would take her eyes awhile to adjust. A girl? This could be interesting. Different, definitely. In his personal opinion, women were different than men. Which meant she would have to be persuaded in some other form or fashion. Jax would have to think about it and which way to approach this best.

"Name." He stated roughly, seating himself in the chair, pulling it a bit closer to her place on the wall. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he locked eyes with her, daring her to break the gaze.

OOC:http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_z5YSJ91WmWc/SsaZ7B-z5RI/AAAAAAAAG4c/0hYIPEMxnoo/s400/5642vdaaa3446.jpg
Picture, haha.​

 

[Closet_freak]

Eyes roamed behind sealed lids, Rea’s head hanging forward and chin resting against her chest while limp limbs hung slack against the chains which held her. Her return to consciousness was sudden; a gasp of air drawn into her lungs followed by movement, arms and legs straining uselessly at her restraints. Khaki green hues unveiled, they roamed around the lightless room, searching for answers to the hundreds of questions which flew through her mind. What had happened? Where was she and how had she got there?

For an awful horrible moment, Rea feared that all images of the enemy soldiers had been naught but figments of her imagination and instead she lay buried alive beneath the rubble dislodged by the IED. But no, she was chained. Chained and most definitely upright. This realisation seemed to calm her, heart rate slowing and breathing less frantic she was able to gather her thoughts and begin to think logically about her current situation. As she did so, Rae became aware of the pain which wracked her body – the throbbing ache in the back of her head, the dull pain in her shoulders and wrists from where she had hung from the chains.

Clearly the pistol which had been pressed to her head had not been fired, although that fate may well have been preferable considering where she now found herself. By now Rae had realised just where she found herself – a pitch black room, chains, solitude. She was a prison of war. Rage began to churn within her, limbs straining against her restraints experimentally. “Bastards!” Rea screamed at the top of her lungs, before her head fell forward as she fiercely blinked back the tears which had began to build, “Bloody murdering bastards...”

Time passed, who knew how long she stood there glaring into the darkness. By the time the door swung open, spilling light into the blackness, she had chosen to conserve her energy – closing her eyes and bowing her head. Rea remained in that position, even as the stranger entered the room and the footsteps paused momentarily. Light flared all around her, searing into her unprepared eyes and forcing her to squeeze them tightly closed. A sneer spread across her lips at the one worded question, slim fingers curling against her palms as she fought back the rage which still churned within her.

Finally she raised her head, narrowed eyes fixing the stranger with stern glare. “Go fuck yourself.”

 

[SOULdier]

Jax held her gaze, unimpressed by her display. A wild little horse this one was. Most soldiers, however brave or noble, weren't stupid enough to basically spit in his face. It was the dumb one's that always got in the way and made things difficult. They were the one's that took the longest to break. He had to admit, he was a bit surprised by her defiance, somehow expecting something more demure. Staring at her for a long moment, it was plain to see that the gears were ticking in his mind. The great thing about torture/interrogation, there were no rules. Anything went, really. As long as he didn't kill them, which most of the time happened anyway once they got the information they wanted. It was a win win for Jax.

"Oh, let's not be stupid. We could make this short and sweet, you know." He paused, his voice sickly sweet. Jax was used to getting his way, no matter what. An immediate reisistance from her was only becoming irritating. Something, there was something there that pushed his buttons. Got under his skin. He couldn't allow that. "Name." He repeated firmly, his eyes not betraying the fact that there was a gentle, yet unstoppable anger bubbling deep inside of his stomach. He had no respect for the country he was at war with, and no respect for it's people. If this brat didn't give him what he wanted, he would take it from her one way or another.

Rising from his seat, Jax glided over to her lazily, almost looking like a large house cat. His hand dipped down into her collar, retrieving the chain necklace hidden underneath her shirt. It was a dogtag. Ripping it roughly from her neck, his eyes wandered over the name carelessly, before he tucked it into his pocket.

"Nice to meet you, Rea." He commented, a sardonic tone to his voice. "So what was it you and your men were planning? A surprise attack? You were quite close to our territory, after all." Jax's voice became strictly business then, his face hardening to the point that he hardly looked human. To torture information out of people, there had to be something slightly off about you.​

 

[Closet_freak]

She glared back at him, not expecting approval or any kind of mercy, and she had no intention of making this process easy. All of her friends, her family – she had watched as they were wiped out, could do nothing but stare in horror as Rory’s life was snuffed out before her very eyes. The only thing she had left now was her pride and honour; however cliché and naive that sounded. A smirk remained upon her lips at the stranger’s comment – her silence was all that was keeping these people from killer her, the earlier demonstration of how little they valued an enemy’s life had made that all too clear to the young soldier.

Her lips pressed thinly together, staring in unyielding silence as he once again demanded her name this time producing a physical reaction. Khaki green hues followed his movement closely, breathing in slowly through her nose as his hand reached out, skin brushing against skin momentarily before the chain around her neck pulled taunt. A moment lately a weak link gave way, and her dogtags were torn from their place.

“The pleasure is all yours...” She muttered, finally shifting her gaze to the floor as she adjusted her stance slightly. The chains were frustrating and cumbersome, being held in one position certainly not a pleasant experience. Jax’s question was left unanswered, not even by a smart comment. Instead, Rea stared at the opposite wall.