+Author's note+:

The first part of the story will focus around the development of White: the man who trains them. It will move into Operation Javier soon enough.

Thank you for reading.

Slainte.


BOOK ONE: IN PLURIBUS UNUM


Episode 2: The Soldier


Day 2:


The long curl of smoke flickered in the moist air.

The bus was broken down on the side of the red dirt road.

The grass around them was burnt, brown, and struggling to survive the drought. For high summer, the heat was surprisingly tolerable. You still felt like a wet buffalo was sitting on your chest, but at least you weren't on your own damp lungs when you took a breath.

The humidity was cloying but it wasn't killing.

Sitting on the side of the road, the two men shared a bottle of water between them.

They watched the angry little man with the pot belly work under the hood of the smoking bus. It was an open air model, missing the sides and leaving them all exposed anyway like a San Francisco trolley. But the engine had shit the bed shortly after they'd reached the end of civilization.

There were a handful of them there on the bus.

No one seemed inclined to make friends.

Leon found himself getting the proverbial stink eye from other people on the bus.

He studied them, with a cop's eye.

A couple girls in tank tops and shorts. A couple guys in jeans and tees. Everyone looked…what? Scared?

Not exactly.

But not exactly thrilled to be there either.

Maybe they were all like him, blackmailed into being there in the first place.

On the ground next to him was the only person who'd spoke to him, Jack Krauser. Krauser was enormous. He was Bane in Batman big. He was all muscle and good patrician features; handsome with a shock of blonde hair.

He wore a red tank top on his massive chest and camouflage fatigues on his muscled legs.

Leon felt scrawny and small in his green Oscar the Grouch t-shirt and his jeans.

Krauser was friendly enough. He talked about being in USSOCOM. He talked about coming here for the versatility of the training. His chain of command was grooming him to lead a spearhead of special operations. To do that, he needed to be able to withstand torture, to excel in various styles of combat, and be able to prove himself.

He offered the bottle and Leon took it, sipping, "Honestly, they're talking about send me up against B.O.W.S. when this is over. But I'm not sure I believe they exist."

Leon shifted in the red dirt. "They exist. I promise you that."

Curious, Krauser studied his face. "You see 'em?"

"Oh, yeah. Plenty of them. I survived Raccoon City."

Surprised, impressed, and smiling, Krauser mused, "Must be a helluva story."

"Yeah." Leon studied the driver's angry waving hands, "A long one."

Krauser kicked his legs out, sighing, "We might be here awhile. You wanna talk about it?"

Leon hadn't had a friend in so long, he thought, why not?

And he started talking to the soldier on the side of the road.


Day 18:


The pit was a massive circle.

It was all burning coals.

Krauser stepped on it without a car. His calloused feet liked it, like a warm massage. He kicked coals playfully.

And his opponent stepped out.

Thin but built. She wore a tight little white tank and tiny shorts. Her dark hair was bound up in a high ponytail.

He laughed, watching her.

"Hi there, sweetheart. Why don't you drop that stick and I'll give you a bigger one to play with?"

She twirled her bo staff. He twirled his.

She swung at him. He ducked back and kicked her in the stomach. She staggered but didn't go down.

Amused, they paced each other in the burning coals.

The heat of it sent swirling, shimmering plumes of humidity into the sky. It was like looking through a wavering filter. The world actually roasted as they fought.

She was quick. She was good. She was a second faster, a second smoother, a second sharper. She hit him twice in both arms, ducked and swept his feet, and jabbed him in the belly. He caught her staff, jerked her forward, and elbowed her in the face.

She spit blood, spun a reverse roundhouse kick, and kicked him away.

He laughed, dropping his staff.

She tilted her head like a dog, laughed herself, and stuck her staff in the coals. She used it like a pole vaulter, went up, and double kicked him in the chest. Krauser caught her ankle as he went down, jerked, and spilled her down atop him.

She heard his back sizzle from the heat.

But he got two handfuls of her ass anyway and rubbed her on him.

Disgusted, she bit his nose as he tugged her down to kiss her.

Krauser howled, like a wounded animal, and kneed her right in the crotch.

It hurt, she rolled away and leaped to her feet, and he hit her as she spun back toward him.

A hook.

A hard one.

It hit her in the face and sent her spinning.

She went down to her hands and knees throwing blood from her mouth.

Krauser kicked her in the belly to her back and she threw her leg out as she went. It was a hard, impressive hit to the groin. He grunted and grabbed her throat, lifting her up to dangle. He grabbed a handful of her breast and she rolled.

She kicked her legs up, she looped them around his face and rolled, and she whipped him away to throw him out like he wasn't twenty hundred and thirty pounds of muscle.

Krauser landed on his back on the coals and she was above him, the bo staff at his right eye.

The voice called, "Enough!"

And the battle was awarded to the big tittied girl.

Gnashing his teeth, Krauser was sent back to his kennel to pace and curse.

From the top of the rise, the other's watched, as they always did during the battle.

Leon swirled the matchstick in his mouth, curious about the girl. She paused as she left the arena. She glanced up.

He smiled and bowed his head in a salute to her victory. She smiled, laughed lightly, and left the ring.


Day 24:


Jefferson Drew was an accomplished acrobat.

He was so fast.

He was like a mosquito. He taught Leon all about flip kicks and spin kicks and hurricanes. They practiced back flips and back handsprings and tucks.

He said, "You're like me. You can't be huge. You have to be fast."

He gestured to Jack. "That? He's big. He'll use big like a weapon his whole life. He'll punch everything that gets in his way. Life, enemies, boulders. If he can fight it, he'll do it. You?"

Jefferson Drew shifted, scooping back his braided hair into a ponytail. "You need to move like a survivor. Float like a butterfly…"

Leon considered him as the circled each other, "…sting like a bee."

"Exactly."

They worked on boxing. They worked on tumbling. Leon flipped so many times and fell so many times his knees were all torn up.

The burns all over his back were legion.

Drew watched him, curious, "You lose in the pit a lot?"

"…yeah. Yeah I do."

Drew sighed, softly, "You need to get faster than those bitches. They're not strong, Kennedy. They're fast. Watch."

He flurried. He came at Leon in a steady stream of shifting movement and speed. Leon swung, typical boy fighting, and hit nothing. While he recovered, Drew pummeled him twice in the side, swung low and foot swept him, and elbowed him in the solar plexus.

Leon stumbled and Drew dropped down and threw a high kick into his face.

It sent him onto his back, gasping.

Drew put his hand down, smiling. "How about we make that our goal?"

"Deal."


Day 28:


Jefferson Drew wasn't alone in the pit.

He was with the girl who'd beaten Jack.

She was so quick. Like a lightning strike.

She was swift and merciless. She drove him back on the hot coals. She was equal to him. She flipped, she rolled, she shifted and dodged.

She turned.

And Jack was in the pit with her.

Head tilted, she heard The Voice call, "When one is unparalleled. One becomes the hunted. No longer the hunter, how will you fair as the prey?"

She took them both on.

Drew came at her like a flashing storm. He flipped. He rolled; he swung the staff and clipped her face. She was thrown off and Jack grabbed her to lift her and throw her like garbage.

She tucked in the air and landed, rolling into a cartwheel.

Drew swung at her and she rolled her shoulders, flipped sideways, and hooked her knee around his staff. She jerked, threw him to his face, and rolled the staff into her hands. She hit him in the back with it to knock him to his face and spun sleek and low under Krauser's heavy handed punching.

More ninja than anything Leon had ever seen, she was brutally swift. She hit Krauser in the belly, aimed at his groin and jabbed him twice, and knocked the staff between his knees to throw him down. He hit and she slapped him twice in the face with the end of it.

Drew triple kicked her in the back, sending her flailing, jerked the staff from her hands and whipped it at her face.

She threw up her arms and heard the twack of bamboo striking.

But not her.

She wasn't alone anymore.

And The Voice spoke again, "When one rises triumphant, it encourages allies. Beware the difference between friend and foe. For one is often the same in the thick of battle."

Leon caught the staff, jerked it as he rolled toward Drew, and whipped it from the other man's hands. Drew reeled, Leon used the staff to foot sweep him, and he kicked as Drew went down, sending him skidding over the ground on his back.

The girl met Leon's eyes, smirking. "A hero huh?"

"Nah." He rolled the staff as Jack rose, "I just love a good underdog story."

She laughed and whistled. He dropped, she leap frogged over his back, and he swept the staff from the crouch he was in, taking Jack's feet again as he rushed them.

The girl landed around Drew like a monkey, whipped her body like some kind of contortionist, and went right between his legs to sit on the ground. She jerked. He went down. And she head butted him in the groin as he did.

Leon winced. Drew shouted and curled on himself.

And Jack grabbed the staff from the ground.

Leon mused, laughing, "Krauser, you sure like to put your hands on my staff, man."

Krauser snorted and jerked, "Your staff is as skinny and pathetic as you are, Kennedy. Let's see if I can fuck you up with it."

He kicked, the blow hit Leon in the thigh, and Leon struggled to keep the staff amid the massive strength of the other man. The blow threw him left, Krauser pummeled him in the side and in the kidney like a tank, and Leon hunched around the pain.

He also lost the staff.

Krauser hit him twice in the back with it and the girl was there.

She whistled, Krauser turned, and she kicked him square in the nuts.

He reeled and she punched him in the face, jerked the staff from him, and whipped him in the face again. He went staggering, Leon tackled him from the hunch he was in, and he took them both to the ground. A good punch to the face and Krauser was roaring his rage.

The Voice called, "ENOUGH!"

Just like that, they all stopped fighting.

Leon got to his feet and offered Jack a hand up.

Angry but impressed, Krauser took it.

Drew came over to slap him on the back. "Kennedy…getting better."

The girl tilted her head, "Like JFK?"

Leon grinned at her. A bead of sweat slid down her forehead. Her eyes were super blue in her sweaty face. "Something like that. Who are you?"

She laughed and left the pit.


Day 30:


Krauser finished his battle. A brutal battle. A victory earned in blood.

His trainer crawled over the pit, bleeding from her mouth and her broken wrist pinned to her chest.

In the stands, cheering.

The other's all stomping and shouting and whooping.

The Voice called, "A victor retains his spoils. Show your power."

When you won your battle against your trainer, you were allowed to finish them. Most knocked them unconscious. Occasionally, one offered mercy and helped them rise.

Leon Kennedy would be the first to kill his in mortal combat on the day he defeated her.

Krauser chose a path as yet unseen.

He jerked her to the edge of the pit and threw her on her face on the table where the staffs lay.

The crowd began to quiet.

And The Voice spoke again, "The powerful take what they earn."

Beside Leon, Drew whispered, "….jesus Christ."

And they watched Jack Krauser jerk down the tiny shorts of his trainer and plow her tiny body while she screamed.

She didn't fight him.

She lay on the table and took it.

Leon glanced over the ring to where the girl with the blue eyes was sitting.

The rage on her face was a palpable thing. She glanced up. They locked eyes.

They were likely the only two people not watching the horror of the rutting that happened in the pit. But the trainer's screams echoed in the boiling air.

The Voice condoned power.

Sexual power, after all, was power. And Jack had won.

Leon rose from his seat. He turned away and left the pit.

He went back into his darkened room shaking. Disgust gnawed at his guts. What kind of training was this? What was the lesson here?

That the strong took their power from the weak?

Rape was power here. Pain was power. Torture was power.

He was starting to wonder who the hell he was anymore.

And then the music started playing.

It didn't stop.


Day 40:


"We need to escape."

Leon stood in the pit, facing Jefferson Drew.

They were circling each other.

Drew was whispering, "We need to escape, Kennedy. Tell me I'm wrong."

Leon shook his head. He was trembling though.

And Drew added, "How often do they torture you?"

Leon could hear the music in his head. It never stopped, the music, these days the music never stopped.

"….nightly."

"Yeah. Me too. Water torture?"

"Yes."

"…the depravation chamber?"

God.

GOD.

The dark coffin. Short on air, soundless, sightless, lost. Nothing but your own tortured breaths. There was almost, almost, almost nothing worse.

Leon whispered, "….yes."

Drew spun at him. They pantomimed fighting to please the crowd. And Drew whispered back, "They rape you?"

Leon froze and took a hit to the face for it.

It sent him to his back.

Drew jerked him to his feet. "Yeah," The answer was all over the other man, "Me too. Should be awesome right? Hot chics sucking your dick. Kicking asses. No job, no bills, no boss. Just fighting and fucking. Awesome right?"

They stared at each other.

And Drew said again, "Yeah. Wait for it. Wait. They'll take you to see the Judas Cradle."

Judas Cradle. A pyramid shaped seat where they bound you and lowered you. If you refused to fight, you were flogged and tortured, and killed. They knew it.

They all knew it.

Judas Cradle – where you were forced upon the seat while the pyramid end went into your ass. It split you open, one painful inch at a time. If you didn't die from the sheer horror of it, you died from the infection afterward.

It was never cleaned between participants.

You signed a paper that said you agreed to the training.

You agreed to participate in everything. You signed away your life and agreed.

You agreed to your own death, your own mutilation, your own stripped humanity.

Drew stopped fighting him. The crowd roared around them, and he whispered, "They're putting me in The Cage tonight."

Leon stopped breathing.

"Yeah. I have to escape. I have to. Or I'm dead."


Day 44:


Drew was dead.

The smell of his bloody flesh still lingered.

The training was keeping him alive when he wanted to curl up and die.

Drew was dead.

His only real friend in the whole compound.

They taught Leon Boli Khela. They taught him bare knuckle boxing. They taught him akido and sambo, fencing, and jujitsu. They taught him eskrima and defendu, they taught him to use a knife like an extension of his hand. He was fast, capable, deadly and determined.

He killed his first opponent in the pit.

He watched the light bleed out of his eyes. They'd shared a sandwich hours before. A nice kid, barely twenty years old. Bolivian or something and there because he was the best in his unit of whatever secret entity he served.

They never talked about their organizations. No one knew that much. No one knew more than names.

Leon stumbled into the dark of his chamber and threw up.

The music turned on and grounded him, somehow.


Day 50:


They pulled him from the tank.

They threw him on the floor and hit him with the shock rods. Once, twice, three times – they strung him up to flog him with straps.

And they demanded answers.

Who was he?

Where was he from?

What was his purpose?

He said nothing.

All he could hear now was the music.

The girl on her knees sucking on him. The shock rods in his spine. Torture. Torture and pain and death. That's what this was. It was preparation for all of it.

He stared at the wall.

The girl raised up to eye him.

He kicked her in the face where he dangled.

The Voice was loud in his ears, "Yes. Deny your body. Refute your needs. Overcome. And face your enemies without equal. Put him in the pit."

He went into the pit.

And he was face to face with the girl with the blue eyes.

They fought. They bled. She was merciless. But she wasn't better.

She hit him and hit him and took each one he threw at her. They locked elbows, shins, arms. They tossed and rolled and kicked.

They stood bloody and tired in the center of the ring.

And The Voice called, "Good. Sometimes, your opponent is without equal. Sometimes, your opponent is your equal in all things. Retire, repurpose, and discover your path to victory."

All the women that had put their hands and their mouths on him and she was the first one that triggered a feeling in his gut.

It was the only way he knew he was still himself under the monster they'd created.


Day 89:


They put Krauser in The Cage.

He faced two at once.

A man and a woman.

They weren't good enough.

The Cage rattled. It rocked. It was epic.

Krauser finished the man quickly. Breaking his arms and his knees and leaving him breathing and screaming on the ground to suffer.

The girl was fast. She was good. She was small and blonde and quick.

She took her shot. She took him down once and got him twice in the stomach with her knife.

He punched her so hard in the face it threw her away to roll on the ground.

She crawled and he pinned her to the ground on her belly with his boot in her back.

The broken man made a small mewling noise. Krauser rolled the arm of the girl up over her back. He took her own hand and jabbed her in the back three times with her knife.

She screamed.

He broke her arm, he rolled her over, and he stabbed her eighteen times in the belly with that little knife. She grunted, she gasped, and she bled everywhere.

He mused, laughing, "I'd fuck ya honey, but I think we both know you're fucked already."

Her mouth moved like a landed fish. He put his fingers into her bleeding wounds and wiggled them like a kid with Playdough. He licked her tears like a dog and kept on stabbing her.

She died screaming.

And Krauser was rewarded by being given his own trip into the forest for his final fight.

He was there slaughtering the other people for 11 days.

100 days to train him.

100 days to turn a good soldier into a monster.

100 days to erode a soul and leave a husk behind.