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middle of a hornet’s nest. A bright flash had gone off right in front of her fac e, blinding her through the NBG s. She didn’t have time to radio for help, and only got one shot off before something hit her in the back of the head and her world went black.
    Now, as she fought to remember her training to stay alive , her anger boiled over . Okay think. The cold metal bled through her back and ass. She did a fast inventory of injuries, and found her knee, ribs, and head hurt like a bitch. Figures, the coward ly bastards had to beat on an unconscious woman. Too bad they didn’t have the balls to take her awake and unrestrained — she’d show them how American women differed from theirs who were treated as slaves. Just the thought of being battered , unable to defend herself , sent her rage to an all time high. Control. It was the one thing Vice counted on to bring balance in her life, and when someone threatened to take it from her , it was the most unforgivable sin. They had no idea who they were fucking with.
    The feel of rope cutting into her wrists and ankles was a good sign. I know I’m in a metal chair. What do I hear? Movement. From the left, and behind me. Two … no three people. They were rattling off in an escalated discussion, giving only a few words in the foreign language she knew as clues. Americans…meeting… money. Go figure. The pungent stench of death and decay wafted in her nose, r a ising the remnants of the beef enchilada MRE she had eaten hours before up into her esophagus . How many others had been brought here and weren’t lucky enough to escape? Were they all soldiers like her, beaten and tortured for information, or innocent women and children as well? Even with the hood clouding her sight in darkness, blood red illuminated behind her eyelids.
    Focus. De ep, steady breaths. I can’t lo se my temper just yet. Think , Vice, think. Next, she tried to estimate her location, or find any clues that might give her an idea of her surroundings. Motors could be heard passing outside the walls, along with voices and commotion . All voices she could pick up on were male, which more than likely meant she wasn’t in a normal village, but instead in a compound. She tried to keep her head lolled down so as not to let them know she was awake, despite the overwhelming urge to wiggle and move to get free. Thankfully, rationality hadn’t evaded her and she succeeded.
    Someone walked up beside her and removed the hood. Keeping her eyes closed and as still as possible, she concentrated on regulating her breaths, keeping the rise and fall of her chest slow and steady. Her teeth clenched while she waited for the blow, feeling it before the war lord had raised his fist. In one hard crunch to the side of her face, Vice opened her eyes and fixed them straight on the attacker in a lethal glare. He had the same nappy, dirty hair and scraggly beard that fell to mid chest as every other hodgie did . He was covered in filth, showing once again that learning how to shower proved to be too complex for their bree d. Learn to fly an airplane or wire enough explosives to take out an entire city, no p roblem. Lather, rinse, repeat… incomprehensible. Not even the strongest Axe body products could turn these fuckers into something a dog would get close to, much less a horde of women to chase them.
    Now it was time for the fun part. He would rattle off questions that she wouldn’t answer. He would continue using her as a punching bag until he grew tired, then they would leave her. Which was when she would make her grand escape — after snapping their necks of course.
    After the third fist that smashed against her face, she began to reevaluate the situation. Holding true to her form, she kept her resistance strong, not muttering a single sound despite the brutal bashing. When he seemed to grow bored, he stopped and grabbed her face between his grungy forefinger and thumb, squeezing hard. “Who sent you?” h e grumbled in