You know what; try as I might the backbone for this story turned into a continuation of the main fodder in Holy Roller Novocaine. I can't divorce the two without a serious headache and since I'm not into self-immolation that's that a'ight?

Also, you'll notice my bad guys are speaking English when they should be speaking Arabic but I need them to say more than Allahu Akbar every once in a while therefore English it is. If you knock back a couple of dry martinis and squint your eyes maybe you can pretend it is Arabic? Hey, it's worked for me!

Fajr: the 1st of 5 daily prayers recited from dawn to sunrise by practicing Muslims.

It was the general consensus amidst the whole of first platoon that Lt. Kai Benally was too damn awake for 4:15 in the morning or 0415 military time. First platoon had been up and at it for breakfast at 0330 –no one could possibly begin to digest the first bite of lumpy western style eggs without a serious jolt of adrenaline to kick start the process, but the woman was a poster girl for legally sanctioned stimulants.

The headcount results SSgt. Silas reported revealed what Lt. Benally knew to begin with; no one was AWOL (no doubt in part because there was no damn place good enough for one to go be absent without leave and make it worth the trouble). The twenty-three present, drivers, medic and reporter not included, were packed and ready to go, despite an appearance that begged the contrary. With the thermometer registering a cool 37 degrees Fahrenheit for the third day in a row, none of the men seemed to shake hibernation mode until they were face to face with the sun. Winter was looming in northern Iraq.

"At ease," Benally said to the platoon then called the squad leaders to the front. No one moved. For bodies that were just beginning to acclimate to the extreme heat, it was just too cold.

She zipped up the neck of her polypro jacket, glad for the extra protection against the elements. It would undoubtedly warm up to the point the thermal undies became a nuisance in just a couple of hours but at that very moment, they made her ass feel like it was in a nice, toasty heaven and that was a-okay. She looked at the four-wide wall of sergeants in front of her and put aside a very unprofessional thought involving a bottle of Jim Bean and two of the men; damned General Order number one.

"Four access points and four squads, that's an easy split. You've done roadblock duty in Bina a couple of times before, did you switch positions?"

"No ma'am. Each squad dug in at an access point. Three of them have covered guard posts, south one's just Jersey barriers and sandbags on the side of the road," Murphy volunteered.

"Perfect. Each squad will cover familiar ground and keep me informed of anything out of the ordinary, especially traffic patterns and the kind of people coming and going. I want to have Bina on my sights. Who covered the east roadblock?" SSgt. Silas raised a gloved hand.

"Mine ma'am."

"Shit Sergeant, it must be your lucky day."

"Yes ma'am." Silas said.

"All right; your men are packed for a couple of days unsupported, there's food and water in the trucks… any questions?"

"What about the reporter ma'am? She's been circling the motor pool since 0200." Benally checked her watch and clicked her tongue. The resulting sound was like the hissing of frying eggs.

"I was hoping she'd be asleep by now. Damn it."

"Not her ma'am. She camped out on the truck with the rucks."

"South was the slowest the last time right? Who manned that?" Sgt. Murphy's face fell in silent response. The lieutenant smiled.

-X-

An hour's drive from Bravo company's temporary digs The Villain was eating breakfast on The Failure's desk which the former had usurped a week earlier with an unconvincing song and dance about a defiled motherland in need of a boost from her children. And a suitcase full of cash. They went hand in hand, dollars and holey ideology especially in convincing Colonel Hassan Ghazi and his growing disillusionment at his figurehead position in the New Iraq.

On his part, Rashid Sabawi was living proof that bad people didn't always come with hairy warts and crooked noses to single them out. He was beautiful and not handsome but beautiful, with smooth, tanned skin, grey-blue eyes that looked eerily out of place in a flattering way and curly black hair still dark and full despite his forty odd years. His reputation for moral turpitude had saved him from the curse of man-pretty not that the oodles of money he used to finance his forays into the murkier aspects of human nature hurt that whole Shakespeare's Iago meets The Lion King's Scar image either.

He heard footsteps in the hallway and set his fork on the outer edge of a lovely porcelain plate filled with breakfast food the good Colonel had cooked to order himself. There was a knock at the door but he waited to he hear the second, longer rap before muttering a disinterested 'come in' to the expectant Ghazi.

"How are the preparations Colonel?"

"Right on schedule sir. The men are gathered downstairs for Fajr."

"Have them wait for me Ghazi. I think I should like to lead them this morning. Anything on the scanners?"

"Nothing we can use but Farooq is my most capable lookout."

The briefing went back and forth for several minutes. Rashid picked up his fork deeming Ghazi's news dull and brought a mouthful of crispy bacon to his mouth. He chewed with wicked delight. If holy cows made the best burgers, slabs of forbidden pig fat cooked to perfection by self-professed holy men made the best breakfast, no questions asked.

"They'll have snipers on the east. Stay clear of the windows to be safe. It would be a pity to lose at this point," he said swallowing.

"I am not one of your illiterate soldiers Rashid. You and I both know the Minister is too important for the Americans to come in guns blazing." Ghazi's voice was an expressionless, monotone train. It was the only way he could manage to hide his contempt of Rashid. Each was aware of the mutual hatred that bound them but too pompous or too polite to let on.

If you thought this was a rather short chapter, you are perceptive. I slashed a lot of irredeemably bad expository dialogue outta here. I'm delete button happy today and that reminds me, if you want to see a very depressing movie, you should rent Paradise Now.

Thy Author.