The Terrible Tactician [VERY MATURE] [Open]

[Aadibah]

"marhabaan bikum fi funduq kalifurnia
hadha makan jamil
hdha makan jamil
hadha wajhaan jamilana
'innahum yfyn al'amr fi funduq kalifurnia
ma latifat mufaja'a ma hi mufaja'at litifa
jalab al'aedhar alkha-."

A gloved hand reached for the dial, quickly scanning to a different channel from the one constantly broadcasting the Arabic version of a popular American song. "Kess ikhtak. I'm so sick of that damn song." The voice was lower, deeper, and filled with rocks and gravel grinding against each other. "Everyone in the damned army blares it on every radio all day long." The man, with graying hair and a face full of developing wrinkles, set his elephant foot of a left arm back on the steering wheel. The elbow and wrist relaxed, hand hanging limply just over the rim, the right arm doing the actual steering.

To the left of him sat a younger woman, adorned in military garb, slouching back into the sand-brown Humvee's torn up leather seat. The window was rolled down, helmet in her lap, face looking out, the ends of her short hair being tugged from the breeze coming through. When the music cut out, a pair of combat boots came down from the dashboard, the owner exclaiming a small "Hey!"

"Prayer will be starting soon, anyways." The older soldier began sifting through channels, different voices, all speaking Arabic, mixing together with white noise. "We'll have to pull over and see who will be standing watch."

The woman in the passenger seat nodded her head, scooching back up into proper posture, legs sliding off the dash. "I think Johnson and Briggs would be willing to. They're Christian."

"You want two US Marines standing over praying Muslims with rifles?"

"I don't think we're gonna meet any trouble out in the middle of Sau-"

Ting
Pop
BPHOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM

A rapid expansion of heat, energy, and shrapnel triggered by a mechanism detecting a specified weight sent the back end of the Humvee up and over, pieces of the undercarriage sloughing off like leaves from a tree. The convoy of two light armored vehicles six trucks and a tank suddenly came to a screeching halt, front- and rear-ending each other as the vehicle at the head was suddenly upside down, the sound of crunching metal and bulletproof glass resounding throughout the barren sands. The one-ton armored car slid forward about a meter, gouging out the road, before laying unceremoniously in a pile of its own guts.

In an infinite moment of calm, everyone in the convoy sat in their own armor, looking at each other, not speaking, eyes wide and mouths agape. All that could be heard was the rumbling of pistons cranking, a few radios blaring a prayer song, hissing and popping from the wreck in front.

It wasn't until a few crackles, zings, and pops followed by puffs of sand and sparks, then the screaming of an LMG operator that the entire convoy suddenly exploded off the road. The new front vehicle peeled off first, circling around the down Humvee, and each vehicle followed the next, before the tank at the end, a light and fast FV101 Scorpion, sped around to face where the fire was coming from. A circle of armor now had its center on the wreck, nine military-grade vehicles in total becoming a protective barrier. The two LAVs, both ACV-15s, formed up on the opposite side of the road from the light tank, back doors swinging open and soldiers filing out to surround the new flaming pile of scrap. A man from each had wrenched off a fire extinguisher from inside and began blasting the engine with white clouds of CO2. A group of four others broke off, splitting in half to each side of the Humvee, prying off the doors with either a crow bar or a knife. All but one of them popped off eventually, the front passenger door having been bent inwards and locked in place.

Then there was a sharp whistling, someone screaming "MORTAR!" then both squads scattered and hit the deck. Not even half a second later, three plumes of heat and metal bits flying in all directions erupted in quick succession, each one either too far, too short, or too much to the side of the improvised fort. Another hoarse shout of "ALL CLEAR MOVE!" and everyone was back on their feet, one man returning to an LAV and browsing over the available equipment.

During this whole spectacle, the Scorpion had continued to exchange ballistic shells with what was a pea-shooter in comparison. First the LMG far off in the rolling dunes would try a few pot-shots at the soldiers within the circle, a man inside the tank would relay corrections for aiming to the gun operator, then it would fire. This back and forth went on for about five minutes, before a fourth shot was never responded to.

The man that had been driving the downed Humvee was dragged out, visibly shaken and sore, but otherwise unharmed. The two men in the back as well as an LMG operator had been blown up the ass by the IED and crushed by the weight of the vehicle. The woman was still inside.

"Taavetti!" One the squad leaders called the man over, both keeping their heads low. As information was relayed to him, the survivor pulled back his T-91's chamber and ejected the clip, inspecting the weapon thoroughly. "120mm mortar shells and an LMG, sounds like an FN MAG, that's all we know right now. Can't tell if it's Saudis or another tribe."

The older man nodded, looking to a limp body that hung from one of the Humvees, blood dripping from what used to be a soldier down a loosened helmet, pieces of skull and flesh splattered about the armored side. "If it were Saudis they either wouldn't have attacked us or at least would have been better at it than this mock-up of a surprise attack." Taavetti's head swiveled over to where the Scorpion was still firing, despite the LMG fire having ceased. "This is a raid, and if a tribe thinks they have a chance against actual military convoy with a damned tank, then they must be confident in themselves for a reason."

Whistling for a second time, everyone splitting up and dropping to the ground and curling up for a second time. Three shots way off course for a second time. Everyone getting back up and tried to pry the other door off for a second time.

Taavetti chuckled, "And if it was Saudis, they would have only missed the first time."

BANG BANG BPUNGK

The three soldiers that had been working on the passenger door suddenly leaped back about a meter each as the door swung open at around eighty kilometers an hour, a leg appearing for half a second before it shut again with its own momentum, then flew open and slammed closed a second time before finally being blown off its hinges, flying across and slamming into the side of another Humvee from the sheer force of the kick. Two legs popped out into view, flailing around in the air, a torso slowly squirming its way out before the whole soldier finally plopped into the dirt. Two of the men went to her, arms out in front, but had to take another step back as she quickly righted herself, smacking off dirt and glass from her hair and clothes. The woman furiously cussed throughout the whole ordeal, just about every bad word in the Arabic tongue being spat off in less than two minutes. She then plunged her hand back into the wreck, fishing around for a moment before pulling out a sand-brown helmet, her seat being ripped off its bolts at the same time with first a screeching noise followed by a loud POP. The ruined piece of metal, plastic and leather-wrapped cushion tumbled off to the side. The woman that had just become the jaws of life for about five minutes trotted up to Taavetti as she did her chin strap.

"Welcome back to the war Aadibah."

"Eat a pig!"

"Language. You're in my area of expertise now, strategist."

"Then show me you can do your job, tactician."

The old man laughed as the engineer, the leader of their stray band of soldiers, went over her AK-47, pulling back the chamber, checking the sights, ejecting and re-clipping the magazine.

"Alright!" Taavetti's mountainous roar drowned out the rest of the chaos, the commander turning around on his heel to address the whole group, "Someone radio in the rest of the convoy, let them know the scouting party has met hostile contacts and to be on the watch for raiding tribes!"

* * *


"Ay, goatfucker!"

What did that ugly son of pig just call me?

"'eah 'ou!" The man that was currently laying in the dirt, off to the side of the gate, making an incredibly aggressive attempt to call for Aadibah's attention struggled with something hidden by the tall, dry and brown grass. Despite the racist remark, the engineer still ambled on over, albeit with a slightly less stiff posture.

"Me?"

"Yeah 'ou dum bitch! 'oo the 'ell else?"

"I don't know. Maybe the goatfucker you were talking about."

"Screw you!"

The soldier furrowed her brow at the man, stopping just two meters away from his spot, putting a hand on her hip and scanning the ground. A bear trap had snapped over his hairy leg, a mangled shin and calf leaking blood, bits of a snapped tibia poking out.

Damn. That's medieval. Not even the Russians did that.

The "victim" in question reeked of sweat, shit, and blood. His "clothes" were a burlap sack sewn into a poncho and blue jeans with more holes in it than a piece of Swiss cheese that got hit by the payload of a shotgun shell.

"Ay, 'elp me out and git 'is fuckin' ting offa me! Come on aren'tcha suppuhsed to whatever a guy tells ya too?"

"Oh-ho ho ho, honey." The soldier stepped up to the man, bending down low and shoving her face into his grizzly, wrinkled and pimpled own. Her green eyes stared down into his grey and dead pair, "Talking like that is not going to get you far with any Arabian girl."

The woman reeled back, spitting and coughing and smacking her face in order to removed the loogey that was just hacked onto her face. "Fuck 'ou bitch! Git outta 'ere, I dun need any 'elp from an alo'a snackbar like 'ou!"

After successfully scraping off the combination of snot and saliva, there was a prompt clicking and snapping from the chamber of an AK-47 assault rifle. Aadibah brought her weapon up and shoved the end of the barrel into the man's skull, baring her teeth in an ear-to-ear grin, her eyes wide and lips slightly quivering.

"Buddy you just fucked yourself!"

"Eat a bag of dicks!"

"Oh it's going up your ass now darling!"

"DO IT BOYS!"

"Wait wha-"

Tink!

"What the he-"

Tink!

"Stop it."

Tink tink tink tink tink tink tink!

"STOP IT!"

A second man, similarly dressed in terms of dirty and torn clothes that were probably stolen from a modern fashion show, wielded a tire iron. Compared to the Aadibah, he was a mountain of muscle. Even still, he backed off after several failed attempts to whack the woman over the head from behind, aiming each shot right at her solid helmet.

"Boss!" He shouted, voice shaking, body subtly vibrating, "Ah can't do nut-in' to 'er boss!"

"'ou dumbass 'it 'er in the face! Quit goin' for the 'elmet!"

"Oh... y-ah good tinkin' boss!" An arm equivalent in size to a bulldozer's hydraulics came swinging in from Aadibah's left, along with the mighty roar of her assailant. This war cry was cut short and replaced with high-pitched, almost childlike squeal as the arm was suddenly stopped in its tracks half a foot away from the soldier's face. Her left arm was now the pressure point from which the giant's own snapped in two, the lower half flopping forward and lightly smacking her cheek, the road-side auto-repair tool skipping off the back of the helmet again as its direction was thrown off and its inertia halved. A small plume of dust hung in the air where the defender had spun about to meet the strike.

The man in the bear trap let out a scream of his own as the crunching of bone and tearing of muscle and skin came from his friend, before preceding to shout at the top of his lungs "Fuckin' crazy bitch!".

"YYYEEEE-AHHHH!" A third voice, much higher pitched on its own, sprung from a bush to the right. A younger boy, adorned in some sort of animal skin instead of a shirt along with dirty brown cargo shorts. In both hands was a spear crafted with a long iron rod, chicken wire, and a knife.

It was with this assault that Aadibah's right arm finally flew up, finger on the trigger of her own weapon. Fortunately, the boy hit the brakes upon seeing the rifle, losing his balance and tumbling over backwards into the dirt.

"Dumbass kid! Now 'ou've got us-" Before the first man could finish, his forehead was re-united with the end of the barrel.

"You ever seen what a full-metal-jacket does to a person's skull?" Aadibah pushed further into her would-be mugger's skull, steeping on his injured leg's foot and crushing it into the dirt like a tin can. "Because I have. I've done that to people. Lots of pe- Wait what the fuck?" The woman looked down at the appendage, one eye-brow raising and eyes widening when she saw that it was, in fact, a bloody pulp mixed with bone dust.

"Dumb bitch!" The new-found hostage reached down to his right knee, pulling up his jeans and popping out his skin stump of a leg from a rounded out socket of wood.

"Oohhh... wait where did you get the other le-"

"Let's bail boys!"

"Wait wha-"

Behind her, the giant man came trotting over, feet thumping into the ground with tiny quakes, tears and snot streaming down his face. Despite the limp and mangled right arm, he still managed to scoop up his "boss" in the left like a small dog before sprinting off into distant tall grass, soon enough being trailed by the boy with the spear.

Aadibah was quite still after the whole spectacle for a few minutes, simply staring at the mangled and rotten leg that lay under her boot. Flies and other insects were already beginning to gather and pick at the flesh. The white gate several meters behind her humming ever so gently.

"....where the fuck did they get the leg from?"

[Aadibah]

Dry. Tall. Grass. Miles of the stuff. Always the same burnt brown, with flecks of green. A sandy, dusty earth that made little plumes of dirt and pieces of plants that got into your mouth, your eyes, your nose, just about every where it could. Soon enough Aadibah's boots and cargo pants were covered in the stuff, going from sandy brown to even more sandy brown, if that was even possible. The soldier marched on, having left the glowing white sphere that lead back to even more white at least half a mile behind. Her helmet had been foregone, replaced with her keffiyeh as a hood, shading her face and neck. Her sleeves were still rolled down, velcro straps now done tightly at the wrists.

At the same time as maintaining a ram-rod posture, shins and boots tearing through any pieces of underbrush that came in her way, the engineer huffed and puffed, coughing and spitting up wads of aerosols every now and again.

"You see back at home... Huuuu... We don't get all this khara floating around in the air." A moment to fish out a canteen, having been filled back at the Nexus, and taking a small sip, "Blehhh... Nah, all you gotta worry about is the heat and a little sand, not grass floating into your damned mou-BLLTHBHTHBHHBH-!" A small black speck leaped out from where Aadibah had taken her next step, torpedoing straight into her lips before ricocheting off back into the bush. The woman continued to intensely whack her face in all areas for the next minute and a half before finally letting down her arms, chest rising and falling about two inches at a time, mouth agape and eyes the size of dinner plates.

The engineer's pupils darted this way and that, zeroing in on the every particle of the ground in front of her, before finally locking onto a small, cricketing, green six-legged perpetrator. A quick extension of the right arm, left grasping the inside of the elbow, and the erection of a single finger was the only response given before the soldier continued her trek.

* * *

A full mile straight ahead from the gate, the sun was now at the midpoint between being perpendicular with the horizon and parallel with it. No matter the progress and dimming of the intense lighting and heat over the landscape, the monotonous dull, almost lifeless color rolled on for miles, save for a single, slightly darker speck that continued to wander on.

Aadibah held her hand up high, hand resting on her brow, blocking a good portion of the light that pierced her eyes as they tracked the orbiting ball of fire. Soon enough, her steps ceased, and she continued to follow its path, before finally nodding to herself. A large inhale, then exhale, then her rucksack being dropped to the ground gently, her rifle being laid to the side.

"Forgive me my god." The soldier spoke to the air, standing up straight, turning about to face the direction she had come from, and hands hanging to her thighs. "I have not washed my feet, and I have no idea where Ka' bah is. Hopefully you'll understand. You usually do." The phrase was spoken fluidly, without pause or stutter, before her hands were held up to each ear, palms forward. "Allah akbar."

The next fifteen minutes were spent with a lone woman chanting in Arabic, going through one final pose of the hands at the chest, then six different postures. First bowing over, hands on the knees, eyes to the ground, second her back straightening up with hands held outward for a time before being let down at the sides again. Third, back down to kneel on the ground, palms and face in the dirt, before rising again. The three final steps involved three different sitting positions, with the soldier turning her head to the left then right at the end of the final posture. All the while, her eyes remained affixed, almost frozen forward, never straying.

With the ritual concluded, Aadibah sat back into the dirt, legs popping forward from under and splaying out in front, arms hanging down in the middle, hands idly playing with the roots of some kind of weed. Her fingernails were quickly beginning to feel dried out, like paper.

"Where shall I go, my god. I found the closest thing to home here. It's dry as shit and there's sa-, well dirt everywhere. There's also people trying to kill you. The whole package." The soldier's right hand raised up, arm held out straight, dirt falling through the bottom of her enclosed palm and fingers akin to waterfall, minus the moisture.

"Bpfbpfbpfbpf...." Aadibah sent air through her lips, causing them to smack against each other rapidly. Like a small child in an over-sized life jacket, she simply sat there, her suit's chest piece riding up far enough to rest her chin on the edge, jack and under shirt providing enough cushioning between the bone and solid steel.

About ten more minutes passed before the engineer was back on her path to nowhere, backpack slung across only the left shoulder, butt of her rifle couched in her palm as it rested against the right, barrel to the sky.

"Alnnaml yadhhab yusirun wahidaan talu alakhira, wahidaan talu alakhar..."

[Aadibah]

"This here town is known as Carrefore, lady. Surprised no one at the Nexus toldjya." A tall man, with wrinkled, thinning skin that shown the veins clearly underneath, his muscle looking more like pieces of meat on a kebab than actual mass. "Most of the time folks rolling in through here from the Savanna already know the name. Kinda nice being able to make conversation with a newcomer though."

"Yeah... the guy I talked to just told me how to get in here, I guess I never really asked where people were." Aadibah gave a wide grin and small laugh, "Probably shouldn't have expected the place to be populated."

"Oh no no, you see this here whole 'verse used to be where ya went to get a job, if you weren't too keen on higher edjumication." The villager waved his hand out into the great expanse that rolled away from the edge of the small pocket of civilization. "Used to be all sorts of industrial work, hell ah used to be a foreman at a plant for uh...err...." A finger came up to scratch at a balding scalp, slightly lifting up a wide-brim hat made out of dried grass. "Well damn, been so long I can't really remember much." With a shrug of the shoulders and a snapping of his overalls, he went back to the task at hand: shoveling manure from a big wooden bucket into small ditches, several rows with crops growing in-between, piles of dirt at the end of each. A younger boy, similar in hair and eye color, took his own spade and began bringing the foul fertilizer over to the other end, spreading it out along the length. "Nah might as well just head into town, find a place to stay for the night, get a drink or two at Rick's Bar, or the "Cah-fay Ameri-cain that everyone calls it..." The rest of the sentence turned into muttered grumbles as the old man spoke a few curses under his breath, something about "fancy ass primes from fancy ass places" coming.

"Pa doesn't take too kindly to the bar." Out of left field, the boy spoke up. "My dad likes it though. Spends a lot of time there too." When this came out, he never looked at Aadibah, only keeping his eyes on his work.

The soldier nodded, her gaze resting on the kid before looking into the interior of the town. The sun would be setting soon, and all of the residents were hustling and bustling about with what little business had to be taken care of. Her eyes darted back and forth between multiple groups and single persons mulling about, either chattering with friends or just strolling silently along. The engineer turned back to the pair.

"Thank you, both, for the info." The soldier un-slung her pack, setting it in the dirt and zipping the biggest pocket open to pull out several MREs before holding them out to the elderly gentleman. "Here, for your time. You need it more than I do."

I could probably make some money off hard labor here pretty quickly, and with that I can get food and a place to rest. Hell, I could probably fix just about anything around town.

The boy eyed the food intensely, biting his lip, but the grandfather shook his head before pushing it away. "No, no, Ah ain't about to take food from a la-" His polite gesture was promptly interrupted with a firm pressure on his chest, arms instinctively shooting up. Small packages of dried foodstuffs were suddenly in his hands, the only response being a short stutter. "N-now hey watch whatcher doin' there ah just 'bout fell into a pile of sh-"

Aadibah was already speed-walking her way into town. Her ears twitched at a yell, then a barked order, a groan, then small footsteps scurrying over to her.

"Lady! Lady my Pa says we're not takin' yer food!"

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"But my Pa's gonna be real sore and he's gonna keep buggin' ya!"

The soldier stopped mid-stride with the boy just a few feet behind. From his viewpoint, her head tilted back, shoulders and the back of the neck rising steadily and expanding before coming back down. She wheeled about to face him, stepping in close.

"Listen kid, I'm gonna teach you a word, okay?"

"...Okay?"

"The word is zakat."

"What the hay does that mean?"

"It means charity."

"My Pa says you shouldn't take no damn ch-"

"I don't care what your grandfather says. I am required to give charity where it is needed."

"It's still charity, I mean we go fo-"

Aadibah raised both hands, palms out, eyes slightly closing and lips pursing. After a small moment, her body relaxed.

"Okay, don't think of it as charity... think of it as... a bonus."

"A bonus?"

"Right. You ever had a job kid?"

"Nah. Ah only worked with Pa and mah dad, sometimes Mama."

"Well, that's pretty much a job. And when-"

"Well I mean it ain't re-"

"And when you work really hard, go above and beyond just what you are paid for, it's fitting to give someone a little extra."

"....so like Ahm gettin' paid in food?"

"Right."

"And those... uh..."

"MREs, just add water to them and boil, they'll taste just fine and they'll fill you up too."

"Those things are my bonus, food?" A small grin began to crack open on the boy's cheek.

"You bet."

"Because Ah been workin' mah tale off!"

"Now you're getting it. Go and tell you grandfather that if he keeps bugging me about the food though, and if I catch him not using it or throwing it away, anything but sharing it with your family, I'm gonna put my-" A closed set of fingers slamming into an open palm with a solid smack, "-fist between his eyes, understood?"

The boy smiled nervously for a moment, before laughing. "Okay, miss, uh... What was your name?"

"Aadibah. That's all you need to call me."

"Alright, mah name's Patrick, and my Pa-" He hooked a thumb over his shoulder back to the old man that had continued shoveling, "His name's John. In case you ever need to call us outta a crowd."

"Thanks, Patrick." The soldier gave him a wide, full smile, holding out her hand to him, which was shaken without hesitation.

Patrick took that as the signal to head off, sprinting away and leaving a small plume of dust. Aadibah's head arched back a bit, one eyebrow raising. "Fast kid..."

How John reacted to his grandson's news, she never saw, continuing on into the town with haste.

* * *

The town of Carrefore was like something straight out of an American cowboy movie, the few Aadibah had seen. Buildings were largely designed with the same principal in mind: Not too much and not too little. Trees were sparse, even near the center with the large pond of clear water from which citizens continuously pulled pales from, so most of the smaller bars, shops, houses, and other places only had wooden posts for necessary structural integrity. Even then, one could see scrap metal parts (I-beams, pieces of factory equipment, vehicles, etc) being implemented.

Yup. The soldier tugged the keffiyeh tighter over the top of her head, the edge pulling back and behind the corners of her eyes. Just as I told you, my God.

[Aadibah]

Rick's Cafe Americain

No handouts!

"Nice place." Was the only comment Aadibah made as her boots continued to crunch against the gravel "street". Her head turned back forward as she marched past the establishment, past the front deck with a few occupied tables and chairs. The seats comprised of even more people who were suddenly motionless, save for tracking eyes. Everywhere Aadibah walked, people slowed down, stared, tilting their heads to their friends and lips making small movements.

Everyone keeps mouthing that word. "Prime". Actually, Connor said that too, same as John. Didn't it mean newcomers? Then why am I getting looks?

Or maybe it's just that I'm a new face. That and I have a rifle. And it's obvious I'm some sort of soldier. Maybe they think I'm part of this "empire" that Connor mentioned.

The stares were neutral, no grimaces or smiles on any one person as the engineer threaded herself through the crowds. Her own gaze remained even, forward and unwavering.

"Prime!" At the first shout, Aadibah's continued her walk, a second demand accompanied by a loud cuss eliciting her to cease and turn halfway around. The corner of her eye peered behind at the source of the voice, lids wide. A squad of four men, half adorned in some sort of white armor with a texture akin to plastic and half garbed in dirty clothes. All wore strange, fully-encasing helmets of the same material with the armor, black eyes piercing into her own.

The soldier deliberately turned her whole body about to face them, both hands grasping each other at the back of the hip. "Me?" Her tone was even, hesitant.

"You need to come with us, ma'am. And not try any shit while you're at it." The one at the head of the group spoke again, their voice somewhat muffled by a microphone that shout their order down the street. The whole squad had unusual black rifles in their hands, casually cradling them at the stomach.

Are those modified SMGs?

"Alright." The engineer raised her voice to reply, "I'm coming ov-"

"Drop your weapon first lady!"

"Okay. I'm dropping my wea-"

"And your pack!"

"-and my pa-"

"And your scarf, your helmet, and your boots!"

"....all of that t-"

"Now bitch! Quit talking and do it!"

Aadibah was silent as she began to strip herself, first flicking on the safety of her rifle, then popping out the magazine and emptying the chamber with a snap of the bolt. The weapon and clip clattered as it was dropped in the dirt, before one of the villagers emerged from the crowd and snatched up both. She scurried over to the squad, handing over the AK-47 to the rear-most member. About three minutes later Aadibah was down to just the clothes on her back and bare feet, everything she owned now in the hands of people pointing guns at her.

Not an all too unfamiliar situation. Just need everyone shouting they're going to cut off your head and film it.

The squad began to move forward, three front three pointing black barrels straight at the outsider. The lead man reached around to a waist pack, unveiling a pair of handcuffs. "Alright, now you're going to come peacefully and not cause us any trouble."

* * *

"Well technically I didn't cause you any trouble."

The screaming could still barely made it through the solid steel door, into a room with a false mirror, a table, and two chairs. Both were occupied, the one closest to the door by a tall and burly man with a solid jaw and a look reminiscent of an angry bear. Across from him was the cuffed outsider.

"No. Technically you did." The man leaned forward, keeping his eyes level with the woman he'd dragged in only ten minutes ago, "We're probably just going to splint the leg for him, since we don't really give a damn about anyone we have in the hold. But now we have to put up with his whimpering and complaining and crying."

"Sorry to hear that."

"How about I put you in his cell? Along with his buddies?"

"Then you'll have three screaming prisoners?"

"Two on one fight never really works out for most people."

"What in the hell makes you think I'm most people?"

The bellowing laughter was only amplified by the steel walls, the large man rocking back into his seat, fat and wide and calloused palm smacking against the top of the table.

"You know how many times I've fucking heard cocky-ass primes spew that bullshit off!" A thick finger wiped away tears, "Every single one I've talked to, every single one acts like they're somehow a bigger deal than everyone else."

Aadibah slightly recoiled as his face came up to hers, dark grey eyes and shit-eating grin eliciting a grimace from the woman. "I've seen so many of them get their asses handed back on a silver platter after trying to prove they're the shit, too."

"Then you must be some kind of tough guy, arresting them on the spot, when they're helpless and lost and just looking to make a living."

"Don't throw that at me honey I know you guys can make just about anything out of omnilium."

"Sure buddy. Can I go now?"

The man paused for a moment, his face slacking for half a second before re-affixing the previous expression. "No. In fact, I was gonna let you out with your shoes and pack, send you back to the gate, since we don't need to look after anymore Camelot soldiers."

The soldier's brow raised at that, "Camelot?"

"And don't try to play dumb."

"I'm not." The engineer cocked her head a little to the side, "So there's an empire here, and a "Camelot"?"

The man's eyes narrowed, his grin extending ear-to-ear, "Ooohhhh... So you are a new prime then, eh?"

"Now I'm not playing dumb?"

"Well no one would say something like "sure" about omnilium. Most experienced primes wouldn't have even commented on that."

"Nice observation. So this means I'm not you're enemy right? I can go?"

"Yeah, no. You're gonna be here a little while longer until I'm sure you're not with any of the other, smaller guys we got prowling around in the dunes."

"Smaller guys?"