Training Bra

"You call that a fucking shot? Drop and give me 40. I'm going to have you do this one more fucking time, and you better do it right!"

"Bitch, does this look like Oprah to you? You think I care that you're crying? Run 10 laps. I better see that lard ass move!"

"For the last time, you fucking bitch. Dodge, dodge, fucking block, takedown! Are you fucking deaf and stupid?"

The women Rakyat groan in discontent as their sergeant barks orders and puts them through hell under the unforgiving sun. Vaas has taken his title as sergeant and commander a little too seriously; he's turned into a caricature of an American drill sergeant and it's grating on the soldiers' nerves, but they were smart enough to not say anything. Dominique looks onward from the window of the hut, feeling a sense of guilt and pity that she's not out there suffering, but instead preparing the food for the exhausted soldiers to eat.

This has been the new normal for the past two days: Dominique collects intel, Vaas trains the ladies, Anika maps out locations and weak spots, and Carmen executes the tortures and killings of the enemy's men. Dominique silently believes Carmen enjoys killing, perhaps a little too much, but can't say anything because shit needs to get done and they're running out of time to possibly save Mike.

They're aware his medical knowledge is what's keeping him alive, but God only knows what hell they're putting him through or the magnitude of danger he's in. His too cool for school demeanor could only get him so far…

"Dominique! The girls are coming in and they need their food stat!"

Dominique makes quick work of filling the bowls and setting them out for the girls to take. She sees them limp, some of them even crawl, inside the hut, groaning and cursing their commander.

"You did good work, girls." She smiles thinly at them. The cold glares and silent judgment is enough to make her swallow her words and serve the food. Vaas strolls right in, sweaty and shirtless from his makeshift training. He grabs his bowl without a word and downs the contents in a matter of seconds.

"Military slop. Haven't had this in years." He muses. Dominique wanted to correct him and tell him it's mango and boar stew, but she hasn't the energy to pick fights with him. They're both tired; Dominique from sneaking around all hours of the night with a double life and Vaas commanding the girls and strategizing with Anika. Their energy somehow winds up in their shared pallet together, where they mumble plans for the next day to each other in lieu of "goodnight" and they doze off.

Today was no different; this time they have destroyed another Amanaki mushroom processing plant and have destroyed the connections to other drug cartels via shot radio towers. For now, Kingston's cash flow is slowly crippling, the last lifeline being the human trafficking trade. If they're lucky, they free the slaves, sever all ties to the big names in human trafficking, and take out Kingston for once and for all. The aftermath, however, is up for determination.

It sounds good on paper, but Vaas' forewarning of there being far worse entities taking Kingston's place of trying to take over the islands makes the optimistic plot of peace seem like nothing more than a dream.

Dominique stirs her pot, her brows furrowed, thinking about Vaas and Jason's words. They're going to be doing the exact, same fucking thing, over and over and over again, expecting shit to change. This island will repeat itself, regardless of how many bodies had to drop to change the hands of fate.

Vaas has a point after all.

This time will be different. Trust me, we can change this. We can make this happen, Anika's optimistic voice echoes in her ear. She wants to believe her, but the question of how is deep within her mind. How; there will always be people like Kingston, there will always be people like Vaas, broken people who terrorize and destroy everything they touch because they can never understand love and kindness. So what if they win; they win with blood on their hands. If they lose, Kingston will take over the island, kill them all and run the islands with an iron fist until someone brave enough decides to put an end to this.

She wishes these islands never existed, she wishes she never even set foot on this cursed island, she wishes this is all a dream she'll wake out of at any second. But, she knows no matter how much she wishes upon a star, no matter how many times she shuts her eyes real tight, her reality is staring back at her.

She will never escape this hellhole.

She'll die here.

"Hey, space cadet. Come back to me for a second."

It's Vaas, cramming his bowl against her breast.

"Would this all be for nothing?"

"Huh?"

"If we kill Kingston, would it have been for nothing? There will be more people like him coming here, some even looking for revenge over their lost finances. We'll just keep fighting and fighting until we become too old to fight. We'll just keep this cycle going…"

"Hey, shh, don't think about it, yeah? I don't want you getting all doom and gloom when we're trying to win. Yes, there will be more people like Kingston. There will be more colonial fucks that want to take over my islands. And they will die, one by fucking one. But, hermana, there's…hope. I can feel it; this time, it will be different. It fucking will."

"I never took you for…optimistic."

"Because…I'm training the women and let me tell you, those bitches are tough. Make my men look like pussies. I'm actually proud."

"That's the…nicest thing you've said so far…to anyone."

"Don't get used to it. After we get rid of that colonial fuck I still want my end of the deal."

"You want me that bad?"

"No, I fucking like deals being honored. You Americans always go back on your word."

"You held us against our will…"

"Water under the bridge, hermana. Water under the bridge." He grabs her ladle and pours himself some stew.

"I want you to teach me how to fight."

"What?"

Carmen eyes her warily in the darkness, gun slung over her shoulder and a knife in her hand. She'd killed a boar to prepare for tonight's feast and had invited Dominique along for the ride.

"Dom, you already know how to fight. You used to fight those bitches down in…"

"Not that kind of fighting. Fists won't do in a fight with knives and guns. I need to learn how to shoot, how to avoid getting shot, and how to…kill."

Carmen's hand grips the knife tighter.

"Dom, I'm going to warn you right now. Killing someone, taking a life, it's not easy as you think. Once you kill, you can't go back. You lose a piece of your humanity until you become a shell of who you used to be."

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many people did you kill?"

"…38."

Dominique swallows deeply. Her friend, her caring, peace-loving, cries when she sees a dying animal on television friend, has claimed 38 lives in less than a week. It unnerves her.

"I'm not proud of it," Carmen adds, "but it was something that needed to be done. It was either kill or be killed, and I wasn't going down without taking someone with me."

She looks to her friend, her hazel eyes glowing from the fire.

"I can teach you, but only if you promise me that you won't back out when you take your first life. And you must always hold on to your humanity with each person you kill. This is war, Dominique. I need to make sure you're ready, and I won't train someone who isn't up for the challenge."

Dominique swallows deeply. Is she truly ready for actually killing someone? Can she truly live with herself knowing that someone died because of her?

It's war, she tells herself, it's war and just about everyone outside of her circle is an enemy that has no problem killing. She will only kill in self-defense. It's not like she's doing it for fun…

"Are you serious about learning combat and dealing with the consequences of killing someone?"

Dominique swallows again.

She nods.

Damn humanity; she just wants to survive.