//------------------------------// // The Birth of the Wolf-Part 1 // Story: Metal Ringing // by 1000Fights //------------------------------// It took the course of two minutes, but during that time, everything was painful. Ignatius tried to fight it. He tried to free himself from the memory, but the more he struggled, the tighter the Chinese finger trap of a dream became. Soon, he was one with the memory. He would relive the birth of the Wolf. ______________________________________________________________________________ "Hey, Matthew!" shouted a voice over the roar of the loader engine. Ignatius, Matthew, looked over to the open door. "We need to haul some base course over to the far end of the road, can you do that?" "Sure thing, Staff Sergeant." the NCO(non-commissioned officer) left and went about his business. Matthew drove over to the stock pile and parked the loader. He traded that piece of equipment for a dump truck full of base course. He started up the machine and went on to the end of the road. He pulled up by another Sergeant that was working the road. "Hey, Technical Sergeant!" Matthew hollered. The NCO turned on the Airman. "You got the base course?" he spat a brown bullet of spit onto the ground. "10 tons of it." Matthew said back. "You know how and where to spread the shit." the Sergeant called back. "Get to it, Matthew." With nothing to answer back with but a smile, he was off to the end of the compacted level of base course that was already ahead of the rest of the crew that was laying down the asphalt for the road. ______________________________________________________________________________ Ignatius slapped another magazine into his M4 and continued to fire. During the road work, they had fallen under attack by local Taliban insurgents. They started with a mortar attack, but when the Flight had moved back to a more secure position, they started to come in. Twelve were already dead on their side, but with the mortars and the fire combined, ten were wounded and three were killed on the side of the US. Matthew was there giving covering fire for medics to transport the wounded. "Move, I got you covered!" he shouted. A single shot left his rifle and the bullet landed in a man's chest. Thirteen. The Taliban advanced, but the Air Force Dirt Boys stood their ground. Toughened by their work, their hides had callused over to that of stiff leather. Their attitude and resolve mirrored such things. The Arabic forces kept on charging, but the Dirt Boys still stood and roared in defiance. Their strength and bond to their fellow shop mates only hardened under these circumstances. It wasn't until the battlefield wasn't but fifty yards long and five more dead on the other side that the Army came in to reinforce the Dirt Boys. They had a solid victory after the helicopters mowed down the remaining insurgents. ______________________________________________________________________________ The clanging of beer cans and the cheers of the men were in full force. Not only had they won their fight earlier that day, but they finally got the news that they were going home. Not just the ones cycling out, but every Airman, Soldier, and Naval man. Victory was America's. Every last Al Qaeda and Taliban leader was either captured or killed, and local support for the groups had come to grinding halt. Those who haven't gotten the message yet would be dealt with soon. As for the Dirt Boys and the rest of the Civil Engineers, they would have to stay behind for a while longer. Next week would begin deconstruction of the bases. This fact mattered little to them. It was a minuscule price to pay for know that they were on their way home. ______________________________________________________________________________ "Don't let him go, Matthew!" a Staff Sergeant howled in laughter. In the bay of the Dirt Boy shop, one of the other Airman decided to get behind Matthew and put him in a head lock. It was mistake the other Airman, Gentry, was starting to regret. Matthew had twisted himself around and was able to bend down proper and pick Gentry up by his leg. He was able to ground his opponent and get him in a developing leg lock. Gentry was by no means a small guy, but since he had gotten back from deployment, he had been neglecting the gym, while Matthew was hitting it harder than ever. His build almost matched that of his opponent, but he still had about twenty pounds on Matthew. That weight mattered little when Gentry's stamina was diminished, and Matthew was still going strong. The mirth had only just begun, because just when Gentry had tapped out, Matthew was assaulted by Airman Jordan. This boy was bigger, and he had all his energy, but even with this, Jordan was still on the losing end. Because of the way that Jordan went after him, Mathew got under the hulk of an Airman, and was able to put him on his shoulders. Jordan was spun around in circles before Matthew called out, "Say Uncle, dude. Say Uncle or I drop you on the concrete." he laughed hard and said. "That's six feet man, so make your decision now, cuz my shoulders are getting tired." Jordan sighed heavily, but a smile still crept onto his face. "Fuck." he said in a cough. "Alright, Uncle." Matthew lowered his fellow Airman to the ground with the grace of a floating balloon. He turned around and shook Jordan's hand and patted him on the shoulder. "Good try, man. Good try." Matthew didn't have a second before his arm was thrown up by a Staff Sergeant. "THE WINNER!" Matthew threw up the other arm, and shouted among the crowd. "THE VICTORY HAS BEEN DOUBLED!!!" More cheers resulted. Though they were cut short when a Master Sergeant walked in through the bay doors. His brown face was stern, yet his eyes told anyone who could see it, that he brought with him more than just a friendly hello. "Dirt Boys." he said in a thick New Orleans accent. "Can anyone point me in the direction of Airman Matthew Petrauskas?" "That's me, Sergeant." Matthew said as he raised his hand weakly. "You have been asked to appear at a hearing at the squadron. It's rather serious." Matthew read the Master Sergeant's eyes and could tell that he wasn't in trouble, but that someone else was. He grabbed his top and went to his car. Whatever was going, Matthew felt it, and his heart clenched because of it. Something was very wrong, and it wasn't about anything small. ______________________________________________________________________________ When Matthew first entered the squadron building, also known as the head shed, he could feel a lightness in the air. He saw everyone smiling and everyone having a good day with all things considered. He even passed up one of the female Airman who had been hitting on him for quite some time now, and that made him smile. However, as he drew away from everyone else, and got into the heart of the squadron. The light seemed to mimic that of a tomb. It was bright, but it was only so because if even just one bulb was out, the whole room would be engulfed in darkness. Routine commander visits were a norm for young Airman. The commander himself, Lieutenant Colonel Hemming, was very active in keeping up the moral of the youth and made it a point to communicate with them on a regular basis. So, this time should be no different. The reality of it however, was enough to make a large cloud loom over the area. A heaviness overshadowed the usual light hearted norm. Matthew stopped at the door with the Master Sergeant, and knocked. He went to the position of parade rest until a voice rang out. "Come in." The Airman opened the door to find that the commander, and the commander alone, was sitting in the office. Matthew went up to the commander's desk in the most direct route possible and then stood before the ranking officer. Before he said a word, the door shut behind him. He saluted while saying, "Sir, Airman Petrauskas, reports as ordered." The commander saluted and the Airman dropped his salute after the officer did. "You wanted to see me, sir?" The officer motioned for the young man to grab a seat. When he did, the man behind the desk spoke. "Something has happened, Matthew." The Airman's eyes nearly shot out of his head. The commander never called him by his first name, and to do it now in that tone of voice nearly made him jump to his feet and grab the pistol that wasn't at his side since a month ago after he got back from his deployment. "We have had cases come in from your base back in Afghanistan about certain incidences." Matthew's first instinct was to think about how he put firecrackers in a couple hajji-mart stalls and scared the living piss out of them. However, the stagnant pool of murky water that was the voice of the commander rang of something heavier. "We have had cases where some civilian workers out in the D were violated . . . sexually . . . and on many occasions. This seemed to have gone on for quite some time and by that I mean ever since your deployment started. It also seemed to have ended when you left." Matthew's heart clenched again. "Sir . . ." he said shakingly. "Am I a suspect in this?" his voice was full of fear and sadness. He had made such good relations with the locals that they even had warned the him about impending attacks a couple of times, but now with the prospect of being accused of rape was cutting too deep for him. "NO!" the commander exclaimed with an outstretched hand. He knew that Petrauskas took things to heart and so he was going to be much more careful with what he was going to say. "No." he regained the small amount of composure he had lost. "The reason why that I called YOU in here is because you have told , and shown me, that you have a knack for gathering information. I need that sort of skill here." "Sir." the Airman spoke. "I don't mean to be rude, but don't you think that getting someone from O.S.I. over here would be a better solution. Don't get me wrong, I would love to help, but what do you expect me to do? I'm just an Airman in the Dirt Boy shop." "And THAT is exactly why I chose you." the officer smiled as he said. "It's no secret that the Dirt Boys are looked at as less intelligent than most, and that you being an Airman puts you at the lowest position. However, that is why you are the best person for the job. Putting the paperwork in for an O.S.I. troop and then having them integrated into the shops in the Flight would take too much time. You just got back from your first deployment, and people will be more willing to listen, and SHARE, their experiences with you because of that. Because they will do that, you can use your skills to get people to talk and then you can catch what they say. Hopefully, the conversations you have will steer you in the right direction of the perpetrators." Matthew had to mull it over for a while. He had done similar things back in high school and busted a few students for pot dealing. However, this was on a completely different scale. He would need time to slip through a couple of cracks. Matthew thought it over for a moment, but then a thought popped into his head. "Does anyone else know about these occurrences?" he asked. "Only me and a few investigators. Why?" the commander was skeptic, but his heart nearly leapt when saw a smile cross Matthew's face. "If we are the only ones that know, then we have the element of deception on our side. He have an angle that no one knows that we are working. If we can keep this quiet, and only between us, I may be able to get people to talk more openly about it because they don't have anything to fear." "Are you sure this will work?" the commander asked with a bit of hope. "I'm sure." Matthew assured. "I will find out who did this and report back to you as soon as I do." The commander stood up, and the Airman followed. He outstretched his hand. "I have faith in you. I believe that whoever has done such a thing will be brought to justice." ______________________________________________________________________________ No. Not them. "Hmff!" Anyone but them. Another fist slammed its way into Matthew's stomach. His abs were toned, but the beating he was receiving was too much for his muscles to accept as just scratches and dings. Every punch was hate fueled and full of malice. "You think you're pretty smart, don't ya?" the Master Sergeant said as he threw another fist into the boy. "Think you can just do your own little fucking thing?!" he struck again. "You think that you can try and bring us down?" Another fist cut across his face. "Hit 'em harder, Brian!" a Staff Sergeant called out. The words coming from his lips cut into Matthew's heart the most. It wasn't what he said, it was because of who said it. That Staff Sergeant wasn't just another NCO. He was Matthew's supervisor. He was his mentor. He was his second father. Now, he was his assaulter. "The boy needs to learn his place." The Master Sergeant put a heave into his next punch and cut a gash in Matthew's head. Beaten, bloody, bruised, and ugly, Matthew just hung his head low from his position. He wanted to fight back, but even if he wasn't duck taped to a road sign on a barely used road, he still would be fighting his own dizziness and screaming muscles before he even threw a punch. Not to mention the fact that six full grown and hearty Dirt Boys were all against him. It would be useless to fight back. Matthew felt the same way he did when he was being bullied when he was back in grade school. Helpless. No help, no reinforcements . . . nothing. Nothing but hopelessness and helplessness. He swung his head around to meet the crowd. He looked at all of them, but instead of saying anything, he just let his head fall forward. That, more than anything else, spoke volumes. Laughs and chuckles from all six men rang out at their apparent victory. "Come on, guys." the Master Sergeant said as he went towards his SUV. "Leave the little cunt here. Let him bake in the sun for a bit when it comes up, and think about what he's done." "We're not going to leave him all weekend like that are we?" another Staff Sergeant piped. "Nah, we'll get him tomorrow night. Let him soak up some rays and then recover on Sunday. That'll teach him." With that they drove off. Leaving him there in the dark. ______________________________________________________________________________ Matthew only felt one thing at this instance in his life. Abandoned. Truly, truly abandoned. He was without a brother. He was without a shop. He was without a soul. Matthew just stood there in the dark until he could see the first rays of the sun. But as the first fingers of the glowing orb gripped everything in the field of hills, he looked at it with bloodied, bloodshot eyes. He had started out his investigation with the same sight that Monday. It was now Friday, and he had found out everything he needed to know. However, they, the ones who had done it all, had found out as well. They had lured him out with a text from an Airman in Environmental with the promise of a party, but when he went to meet them at the BX for pick up under the new moon, he was cuffed, gagged, and bagged, then through into the back of an SUV. They took him out to a remote place where only a few choice people would travel. Those same choice people, were nowhere to be found. He stared at the glowing orb. His eyes burned and he breathed through his nose. The smell of dried blood and sweat traveled through his lungs. As it rose, so did his rage. He closed his eyes after they could take no more punishment, and then that is when it was heard. A shout, a cry, a battle call from the throat. He let out a burst from his vocal cords. This burst however, wasn't a cry for help; it wasn't a plea for relief; it wasn't a prayer for peace. No. It was just a shout of someone who has been stripped of everything they were, and nothing remained. Nothing but a hollow body. ______________________________________________________________________________ How can you see into my eyes, like open doors Leading you down into my core where I’ve become so numb Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold Until you find it there and lead it back home Evanescence played over the radio as the red Navigator ran through the paved path. It was going faster than usual on this road, for one person out of the three in the vehicle spoke up when they had seen three vultures circling over a spot in the road. It had been over five minutes, but the song rang in their ears as if it was a calling. Worry and fear spread through their bodies. They knew that there was something amiss, but what it was, they didn't know. It was just seeing only three vultures flying overhead that worried them. Vultures were like pigeons out there and if only three found something like that, that meant that they weren't getting anything until whatever they were circling over was dead. They prayed that it was only a deer. They thought praying would help because it was Sunday afternoon and they had just gotten out of church. They felt a fear like no other as they traveled, and that fear only turned to terror when they saw what it really was. A man was duct taped to a road sign, and by the looks of it, he was beaten and battered pretty bad. When all three hopped out of the vehicle and got a closer look, he was also badly sun burned, and on the verge of dying from dehydration. His skin was clammy and sickly. He was red all over his exposed flesh, and his head had maggots in the cuts. "Charlotte!" called out one of the males. "Bring the car closer." the woman sped off and got the vehicle. "Nick, your KA-BAR!" a large knife was placed in the man's hands and his precision was so keen, that the tape was severed from the pool with ease. That came with a price though. As if on cue, the man's arm shot up from the tape and clasped the man's throat. It was clumsy and it did absolutely nothing to the man holding him up. The man's eyes were closed, and he looked like he was asleep. His hand however, never left the rescuer's neck. "Drake." the female said as she opened up the back passenger door. "Drake, we need to get him to the hospital." all three of them carried and placed the taped man into the car. Drake was on the end, so he ran around the car, and yelled, "Get in!" he buckled his seat belt and sped off when the last door was closed. Drake put the air conditioning on a medium setting as to not send the casualty into thermal shock. "Charlotte, check his pockets for I.D." The girl did as she was told and got out the taped man's wallet. She unfolded the black leather and found his I.D. in the designated holder. "Airman First Class Matthew Petrauskas." she called out. "Air Force, huh." Drake said. "Don't worry, blue friend. The Devil Dogs are here for you, man." he let out a shaky breath. "I just hope we're not too late." ______________________________________________________________________________ Matthew awoke with sudden jolt. He was assaulted with bright lights, and the accursed sun. He tried to shield his eyes, but it was useless. His arms were strapped down to his sides. "What kind of shit is this?" he struggled to rip the bonds off, but it was of no use. "You're not getting out of those." a womanly voice was heard right next to the Airman. He looked up to find a nurse standing over him. "Those bonds are made to withstand a load greater than a ton of pressure, and the plastic that it is attached to is about three quarters of an inch thick of solid material. You're not getting out of there." Matthew's throaty growl only grew louder as she spoke. Every syllable making his blood boil hotter. When he had enough, his rage burst forth. He started to thrash, and to snarl. His feet were also bound, so he could only howl in anger as he arched his back. A group of doctors and nurses' aides came in to hold the thrashing Airman down. With every man, the enraged man only flailed harder. He didn't give up his fight until he was pumped full of Propofol. Even though he stopped thrashing, he was still awake. Even after twenty minutes. Considering the dosage, he should have already been asleep half that time ago. They knew he was awake because he was blinking and growling. They feared that anymore of the stuff could cause death, so they left him alone. As they left the room, they saw him stalk them with his eyes. His head didn't rise from the pillow, but his pale blue orbs still followed them, even out the door. When they had left, and Matthew was alone he used every last bit of strength to let out a weakened howl. When the last note was played in his vocal chords, he fell into sleep. ______________________________________________________________________________ No one made a sound as the commander strolled through the squadron building. His head was hung low and his eyes were so distant that one would think that he was trying to spot a flea on the other side of the football field. The suspects were in custody, and the evidence of both occurrences of rape and assault was fool proof. The only thing missing was the one who collected all of it. However, when he found Matthew, he was a lot more worse for wear. He had been told to meet the commander in his office. That same heavy darkness loomed as the officer approached his own door. He turned the knob, and when he opened the door, he saw the boy there. He sat in the chair starring at the black leather chair. He never took his gaze off the seat when the door swung open. The officer walked around the Airman and sat down. When the young man tried to stand, the commander cut him short and so he sat back down. "Commander." came a voice from the Airman. The stillness in his voice and the paleness of his eyes were enough to make the officer think that he was talking to a vampire. "Matthew." he said back with a hint of fear in his voice. It took a few more moments of silence before he was able to speak again. "Matthew, I just want you to know that I never wanted any of that sort to happen to you. The fact that that did was just . . . it was almost too much for me to bear that it happened. Especially to someone like you . . . and for that reason" "Though I appreciate your words, commander." Matthew said. "However, they are only just that. I came here, not because I wish for you to congratulate me, but for you to do something for me." "And what would that be?" the officer asked with sincere curiosity. "I want out." the Airman said in solemn. "I want out of the Air Force. I fought next to the men that betrayed me. I saved four of their lives at one point. For fuck sake, one has my blood running through his veins from my donation. So, when it comes time to pay for a crime, they try to kill someone for it. Even if that person was someone who would, and has, taken a bullet for them." The mounting anger in his voice was enough to make the commander rethink being in the same building as this boy. "I want you to give me an honorable discharge. I want to be out of this so called "brotherhood"." He flashed his teeth with that last word. The commanding officer was struck by the words. He had never expected something like this to come out of this man's mouth. "Are you sure this is what you want?" the ranking man asked. "You shouldn't make this decision just because of six men out of the twenty four you have in the shop." "It isn't the number, sir." Matthew countered. "It is who was in that number. Both my shop, and my immediate supervisor, two people whom I should be able to confide in, betrayed me. They left me to die. I am leaving the rest of them to their own fate. If those people did me harm, and they, above everyone else, were supposed to be the once protecting me, then what would all those others do? What kind of evil would they do upon me? I would much rather not know. I would much rather leave and never give them the chance to hurt me again." The officer was trying to sift through the words and find anything that could tell him that Matthew was joking. He came up short though. He mulled over the words, but soon found that the best thing to do, was to let the man go. He could send him to another base, but then the actions that took place could spread to that shop and then mistrust between potential friends would ensue. No. Though he hated to admit it, this needed to happen. "Alright." he said. "I will do what I need to do to get you out of here." "Thank you, sir." A chill went up the commander's spine as he shook the soon to be former Dirt Boy's hand. "I very much appreciate it."