By nightfall, they were back in the field—training until midnight beneath the cold desert stars.
The barracks were quiet. Only the faint glow of moonlight filtered through the narrow windows, brushing pale silver across rows of bunks. The steady rhythm of breathing filled the room—until soft, creeping footsteps broke the silence.
Someone was moving toward Brian's bed. A rope slid around his wrist, tightening in a rough knot.
"Shh... keep it down," one of the voices whispered.
Dan, asleep on the lower bunk, stirred and shifted to his side. The men froze. Then one of them wrapped a rock in a towel, spinning it lightly in his hand like a makeshift weapon.
"Big mouth, huh?" the man hissed. "Let's see if you're still—Aghh!" His words turned into a cry of pain as Dan's foot shot out from the bunk below, nailing him square in the groin.
"Tu puta madre!" Dan grunted.
Brian jolted awake, blinking, and saw a shadowy figure hunched over him, still fumbling with the rope. "The hell?!" He tore his right hand free and swung hard. His fist connected square with the intruder's face, sending the man sprawling onto the floor.
The commotion exploded. Lights blazed to life, flooding the barracks in harsh white. Soldiers scrambled from their bunks in confusion. Brian's eyes adjusted just in time to see Dan pinning Simon to the ground beside his bed. "Get off me, idiota!"
Chaos followed—shouting, fists flying, boots thudding. One of Simon's buddies charged Brian and landed a punch that knocked him off his bunk. Brian hit the floor hard, but came up swinging. He grabbed the guy by the head and slammed it into the steel frame of the bed. Across the room, Simon got to his feet and landed a heavy blow to Dan's face, knocking him down. The brawl grew louder and rougher—until Matt rushed in, arms outstretched.
"Stop it! Everyone chill the hell out before the whole damn platoon gets---" But before he could finish, a stray fist cracked against his cheek.
Pssh! Matt dropped to the floor with a groan—then Simon kicked him, laughing.
"Hahaha! Pathetic little shit! *spit!"
Brian froze for a heartbeat, eyes flaring with rage. "Hey! Whatever beef you've got with me, leave him out of it! And come say that to my face!"
Simon smirked. "He got in the fucking way. That's it." He loomed over Matt. "Oh~, you're protecting this piece of shit? Did he suck you too~ hard? What's he ever done—beg for pity? He's just another weakling. No guts, no fight. Guys like him don't belong here—they belong wiping floors for me. Kuhuh!" He snorted. "You think you're soldiers? You're all chickenshit nobodies."
He laughed again, a dry, broken sound that filled the room. Brian looked down at Matt, who lay bruised and bleeding on the floor—and something in him snapped.
"Say whatever you want, Simon. Deep down, you're just another coward who gets off on picking on the weak. You act tough 'cause it's the only way you feel like a man."
Simon narrowed his eyes. "What'd you say?"