The Hunters

Chapter Four

We redressed in our winter attire before venturing to the mess hall, making sure that the blankets had a good distance from the wooden fireplace. The building was crowded, the tables filled to capacity, with the scent of the warm meal heavy in the air. My nose wrinkled as I followed Larsen to the line, disliking the preservatives that I could smell from the doorway.

My fellow companions shared my reaction, and we groaned, guessing what American military slop they would feed us. We were all wrong, stepping forward to the counter to see that the meal consisted of chili macaroni, burnt beans, and stale cornbread. The man behind the glass case added an extra cookie to each of our trays, muttering nervously, "I will give you extra food daily if you don't twist my crotch into oblivion."

I covered my face at his offer, tears forming in my eyes as we laughed heartily. Larsen patted my shoulder while I wiped the tears, taking our trays with us as we giggled. "Way to go, Kalberg!" she cheered as she opened the door with her side, holding it open with her rear. "That'll show them to mess with us."

I grinned and stepped out into the cold, feeling a quick shiver run down my spine. Pausing, I realized that the shiver was due to being watched, and I turned toward the source. Ghost leaned against the nearby concrete wall of the gym, his thick arms crossed over his chest as his intense gaze surveyed me.

Ignoring him, I turned toward the barracks, nearly bumping into a towering man as he stepped out from the nearby corridor. I flinched at the movement before recognizing König, his gaze surprisingly curious and soft as he lifted his hands in apology. I nodded at him in greeting, unable to form a verbal response as his size stole my breath. Those masked men were intense.

As we hurried to our barracks, Andersen whispered, "Why are those masked men so sexy compared to the others? I can't even see their faces, yet I'm ready to drop my drawers!"

We giggled and ducked inside, freezing when we spotted Fernsby inside. He stood rigidly in front of the now broken down fort, his disapproving gaze landing on me. "Ladies," the general greeted us irritably, and Larsen huffed as she placed her meal onto the nearest cot. "Mind addressing some concerns that have been brought to my attention?"

Larsen contemplated her response before deciding on returning the same attitude he gave her. "Mind addressing some concerns of harassment toward women on your base?"

"I'm more concerned with the fire hazard, and the physical and sexual assault accusations," he retorted. "This childish collection of blankets is asking for trouble, and completely unprofessional."

"It was approved by my commanding officer," Larsen responded, her tone becoming calm. Whenever she spoke in this tone, she was calculating the demise of her opposition. She was ready to attack at any moment. "If you disagree with her decision, then she can address the matter with me. While we are assisting you on this mission, you hold no power over us."

Fernsby grumbled at the challenge before stepping forward, peering down at Larsen as she remained unphased. "You women have been here only a few hours, yet I've got a man in the med bay complaining about bruised ribs and twisted testicles. Did your commanding officer give you approval for that?"
"Actually, yes," Larsen responded sternly, but I caught the hint of humor in her tone. "Permission to protect ourselves when threatened, especially within our personal space. Private Johnson..." She paused as we all seemed to make a humorous connection between the name Johnson and his injury. Clearing her throat, she continued, "Private Johnson stormed into our barracks. He invaded not only our assigned barracks but stepped up to me in a threatening manner."

"Regardless of who says what, I'm going to enforce punishment on those I deem guilty," Fernsby stated smugly. "That would be you, ladies. Especially the big one. You get to apologize to Private Johnson for violating him and embarrassing him in front of his peers."

"To be fair, I didn't feel anything that could have been violated," I muttered, and despite her stern stance, Larsen snickered. "And if his male ego is so fragile that he's embarrassed by an interaction not going his way, he shouldn't put his nose in places where it doesn't belong."

Larsen looked at me as she blinked away her humored tears, clearing her throat to stop Fernsby from replying as his face reddened in anger. "No such apology will take place. Unless Private Johnson has the balls to do it himself, which my Master Sergeant just confirmed he does not. Punishments cannot be determined or enforced by you, as you are not our commanding officer. Notify her first, then get back to us. After our dinner."

"I don't need to contact anyone," he barked while we began to arrange the cots for our meal, stripping down our winter layers dismissively. "I'm the commanding officer here."

"Ah. As the commanding officer of this base, it is your duty to keep the residents safe, is it not?" Larsen challenged. When he parted his lips to speak, she shook her head. "I'm not done yet, Lieutenant General. Since arriving, we have had grown men whistle at us. Surround our barracks and peer in our windows. Two entered our barracks without being invited. Are we to believe that, at any point, a man will walk into our barracks while we're sleeping? It's no wonder we feel the need to sleep together in a tightly-knit bundle. This behavior would never be tolerated in Norway."

"I am–"

"Enough," Larsen interrupted him once again. "Speak with my commanding officer if you want to enforce anything. Otherwise, know that we will be sleeping in whatever arrangement we please. And if any man enters our barracks or gender-assigned bathroom without permission, we are within our rights to protect ourselves. If anyone harasses us outside of those spaces, we are within our rights to protect ourselves. If you decide that it is acceptable for your soldiers to harass or threaten other soldiers, then we will gladly pack up and leave. This is your mission, not ours, and you are the one who reached out to us for assistance."

Fernsby huffed and stuttered a response while I sat down to eat, calling to him, "You are dismissed!"

Larsen nodded in agreement, informing him, "You were not invited into this space. Leave now."

With a red face, he slowly slinked out the door, clearly mulling over various retorts. Slamming the door behind him, we blocked the entrance with a stack of cots before settling in a circle to eat. Lowering our masks, we ate the cold food, tossing looks of admiration to Larsen while she muttered to herself irritably. "Kalberg," she addressed me as we finished the meal, snacking on the cookies with our trays collected on the floor. "If we pass that Private again or his buddies, I want you to remind me how small that man's dick was."

"What dick?" I teased, and the comment allowed her to relax as she laughed anxiously.

"Bet you can't do that move on King!" Andersen joked, and I nodded as I took my last bite.

"For sure. I'd actually feel his," I responded as my cheeks flushed at the idea. "At his height, that has to be considered a weapon."

"Ah. Objectifying men like they do to us. A beautiful thing," Haugen added, and we giggled. "I'm liking Ghost. He's big and mysterious, too. Reminds me of my ex. Soap too; I like his mohawk."

"God, we need to get laid," Larsen declared, grinning when we roared in laughter. "Too many missions filled with gross, disappointing men. These ones are eye candy. I hate to say it, but Gaz makes me feel a certain way."

"Oh, are we calling dibs?" Andersen asked. "Cause I want Aksel."

"Those are human beings. We can't call dibs," I protested with a shake of my head. "Besides, I'm making dibs on Ghost and King."

"Hey!" Haugen pushed me off of the cot, and I laughed as I slammed onto the floor. "You say that knowing that you don't have any game apart from that leg trick of yours! No fair!"

"I'm not actually calling dibs!" I declared as she flopped onto me, attempting to wrestle with me while I grinned. "They're human beings, remember? Probably got wives back home, or they're fucking each other. You can still have Soap. Hey! Don't you dare give me a wet willie!"