Bullet Catchers

Chapter 6

Bullet Catchers

Six

Sand filled his mouth. Dizziness filled his head. There was no way to physically shake the fatigue from his mind because his neck refused to work. Everything felt stiff. Getting clubbed in the head had really done a number on him. Landing face first hadn't helped. Ache from his broken forearm buzzed. Something – or rather, someone – was yanking him along. Slowly but surely his eyes opened despite the blood that threatened to enter them. A few glances around and he realized he wasn't free yet.

"What the hell?!" he screamed. O'Dell and Connelly were roughly escorting him to a truck. All of his senses kicked into overdrive. He tried to take in as much as he could around him; there was a stranger standing by the driver's door of the truck; Koala was in front of him; his hands were zipped tied – tightly. No matter how much he struggled, he didn't have the strength to wiggle his way free from either the plastic bounds or his escort duo.

"Tranq him," Koala calmly but sternly ordered.

Every hair on Pluto's body stood up at the command. Already in flight mode and wanting to escape, his desperation kicked up ten-fold. Throwing his shoulders, twisting his torso, and kicking his legs, he did everything he could think of to try and throw off O'Dell and Connelly. It was all for nothing. As he whipped his aching head around in panic, he barely caught sight of the needle before it penetrated his collar and once again blackness surrounded him.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur. Consciousness came and went in bursts. His sense of touch was reduced to numbness with an sporadic tingle that would shoot up his spine and jolt his brain. Occasionally his deaf ears would pick up sparse words – "Sure it's a good idea?" and "Is it worth our time?" were the only two full sentences he heard. There was no doubt in his mind based on the position of his body and the sensation of movement that he was going for an interesting ride in that truck he saw. Too bad he was too drugged up to even care whether he died or not…

When was the last time I just didn't care? he thought to himself. Sealed somewhere deep within the darkest vaults of his memory banks, there was certainly a flash of such a time. Maybe it was when he was a boy, and the idea of death was so fascinating to him he wanted to try it "at least once." There was that girl he'd sworn he'd loved more than life itself – losing her was harder than losing his country; or that man that had been a mentor in all ways, during a time when "stability" was a foreign word on his youthful tongue. The sight of that man's body with his hands amputated and his face carved off, just his eye balls left to peer back at him…

That memory jolted him awake for good. In fact, it set him into such a panicked frenzy that he attempted to stand and run away, only to find himself secured tightly to a pipe fixture of some sort. His legs gave way and he slumped to his knees. As the pounding of his heart slowed its tempo and his vision focused, he took in his surroundings carefully. Yes, he was bound to a pipe – one that seemed to run from floor to ceiling. A glance up and he saw that he was certainly in a strange type of building, if one at all. There was a very, very slight rocking to the foundation of said building. Perhaps it wasn't a building. Being on an island, it was likely a ship.

"Hey, Koala. Kid's awake."

That feminine voice was familiar. He turned to face its origin. Before him stood O'Dell and Connelly. Behind them approached Koala. Hurriedly he tried to assess what kind of people they were. Could he possibly wiggle his way in their favor?

O'Dell seemed sweet enough but her guard was up. That wasn't unusual with female mercenaries, as they worked with vultures. Cracking her wouldn't be worth the work. Connelly was a few inches behind her, peering over her shoulder. He was too mission-focused. There was a way his nostrils would flare with each breath and how his brows wiggled consistently that just screamed "too serious" for Pluto's liking. Last, there was Koala.

The former operative dubbed "Koala" wasn't a very big man. Barely hitting 180cm and weighing at 80kg, he wasn't intimidating. Brown hair was parted neatly to the side, and his bangs were kept at a length so as not to interfere with his eye sight. The glasses that had helped give his military-for-hire group it's famous "Four-Eyed Fleet" moniker were sleek in design and more suited for going out than for military operations.

Koala approached Pluto slowly; he crouched down next to him so they could be at eye level. Pluto leaned back out of instinct. After all, the Czech native never was very good at hiding his anxieties in these tense situations. Trembling, his body continued to move until he was huddle up against the pole that held him captive.

The sight must have hit Koala in some way, as he sighed deeply and then reached out to gently place a hand on Pluto's leg. A little too high on Pluto's leg. Most would aim for the knee when trying to comfort a stranger, not the upper thigh. When Koala's thin lips pursed into a smile and he said, "Hey, take it easy, alright?" something clicked in Pluto's head.

He's gay! he screamed over and over again. Pluto considered himself an expert in reading people such ways. He could have a three minute conversation with anyone in a bar and know exactly what their preference was, how many partners they had, and what kind of person they were in bed. It was his specialty. While it wasn't totally unusual to run into such people in the American military, it did add weight to the rumor that the more conservative factions of the United States had essentially forced Koala into hiding. Otherwise, he might've been running for office considering how wildly popular his exploits had made him.

Instantly, he relaxed. If there was one thing Pluto felt confident in, it was his ability to w***e his way out of any shitty situation he got himself into. The erratic thoughts that were swirling in his head and the heartbeats that threatened to drown him all ceased. He focused on making himself completely open and vulnerable. Thoughtfully he twisted his body so his bound hands were behind him and above his head; he let the leg that Koala had a hand on move enough that he seemed to be exposing his crotch. As Koala's eyes drifted down for just a second, Pluto thought, Yeah, gotcha.

"We're just looking for some answers. Tell us what you know about the operation in Guatemala," Koala requested. His voice was clean of any hatred. He spoke quietly but clearly, every word punctuated with a small smile.

Pluto had to swallow. Even if he was calmer, he was still freaking out. His entire body was tense and he wasn't even sure if his vocal chords would work. What if his accent slipped through, and Koala couldn't understand him? Still, he answered, "I-I don't… I don't know any… anything about… Guatemala."

Afraid of how Koala would respond, Pluto couldn't help but duck his head a little. It wasn't a lie, though. He really had no idea. Koala seemed to sense this, as he offered a bigger smile and let the air clear. Eventually, after a few quiet seconds passed, Pluto felt himself lose a little of the tension in his body.

"Then what about Malta?"

"What?"

Pluto was surprised to hear that damned place again. Apparently his immediate, confused response was exactly what Koala didn't want to hear, as his hands moved up a bit more and snagged Pluto in a very private and very sensitive place. There was no stopping the strange inhaled yelp that he cried out. Back into freak-out mode his body went.

Koala's welcoming smile was replaced with a harsh snarl in a blink. "I know you were in Malta and I know you f****d up. I know that a government official was involved. And I want to know what their goal was and how much they paid you. What nation was it? America? England? Russia? Did it have any connection with Guatemala?"

All Pluto could do was emit a series of "meep" noises as he scrambled to free himself from the iron-clad grip of Koala. When it was obvious there was nothing he could do besides talk or die, he did exactly as he was trained to do – sort of.

His mentor had taught him that when captured by the enemy, wiggle your way out. If you can't, bite your tongue off. Never be a captive. Never be a slave. However, putting such thoughts into practice never went well. Subconsciously aware of the immense pain he'd feel upon biting his own tongue, he accidentally bit his lower lip. It was hard enough he pierced through; the flow of blood was instantaneous and severe. As the iron taste seeped into his mouth and flowed down his chin, he had no choice but to thrash his head to keep himself from stopping.

Koala wasn't interested in the display. His hand left Pluto's groin and snatched his neck. Instantly Pluto stopped moving his head; the teeth that had sunk into his own skin left him as fear begged him to gasp for air.

"I am trained in a hundred ways to extract information out of anyone. I'll have you squirming in thirty seconds if you don't answer my question the minute I let you breathe again, commie f**k," he threatened.

The tightness let up from Pluto's throat and he felt his lungs enjoy sweet, sweet air again. Somehow he resisted the urge to cough. Without thought he said, "That was a turn-on."

There was no doubt that he could see every fiber of Koala freeze at the wheezed-out confession. His gloved hands were still mere inches from Pluto's neck and he couldn't find the ability to move them again. An awkward few moments passed as Pluto was led to believe he'd won some sort of victory. It didn't last.

Koala curled his hand into a fist and sent it crashing into Pluto's head. Knocked silly again, he had no idea why he muttered out, "And, I'm not a 'commie.' Fuckin' American pig. Some f*****g hotshot you are, huh? You could've helped us. But we fought alone. Why didn't you help us? Every other country in the world, you were there. For us? Nowhere. What the hell? Svině. I f*****g hate you."

Pluto wasn't sure exactly where that sudden emotional ramble came from. Maybe it was something he had wanted to say for several years now. It was always easier to blame someone else for things that were truly out of any one individual's control. Somewhere deep down he was well aware that Koala had no control over what had happened in his home country. It felt good to pin it on him regardless.

Koala's hand once more turned into a fist. This time, however, it didn't move. Still knelt in front of Pluto, he asked one more time, "What was the operation in Malta about? Tell me."

"What's it to you?" he demanded, even though he was trembling so hard he was about to piss himself. No doubt that fear was evident in his quaking voice. He flinched when Koala's gloved hand neared his face. The rough texture of the glove wiped away some of the blood pouring from his lip. If it was meant to help Pluto drop his guard, it didn't work.

"If the operation in Malta is connected with Guatemala I need to know. If the official that hired you is who I think it is, I need to know. It's to protect my country. And others. Because war could result. You understand, don't you?"

Pluto let his eyes dance to Koala's for just a brief second. Those damned glasses prevented him from truly seeing how Koala felt. Pluto wanted to know how sincere he was and whether he could be trusted. No matter; he'd just keep his mouth shut.

Koala pulled away and let out a small sigh. He stood, his right knee cracking loud enough that it caused Pluto's brows to rise. A slight grunt of effort allowed Koala to stand fully. The trio that had captured Pluto huddled together, their voices hushed as they discussed their best option. All Pluto could do was eye Koala; the way his lips had curved downward and his ears had tainted red, it was clear he wasn't in a good mood. It was true, though – he could extract information easily out of Pluto if he really tried. So why didn't he?

"Just leave him," O'Dell harshly suggested. Her voice was directed at him, and so was her glare. Pluto shrunk at the sight. Typically, he'd toss a flirt her way, but his head had suffered too many blows the last few days. He just wanted to sleep. Apparently, she sensed this and commented, "Oh, nothing to say?"

Koala physically calmed her by placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her away. "Come on. You were right – leave him. Let's get some grub. Connelly, can you watch him?'

"Of course," Connelly said with an enthusiastic nod.

O'Dell and Koala left Pluto's sight as Connelly found a chair to sit in. With his arms crossed and a scowl, Connelly certainly looked the part of an asshole.

Pluto attempted to relax his aching muscles. A broken arm, a broken skull, and bleeding lip were only going to be the beginning if he didn't get help. The swelling around his eye was growing to a point where soon he wouldn't be able to see out of it; not that it mattered since the blood that had seeped into it made it essentially blind anyway. His bound hands were already starting to sting. He needed to pee. He was hungry.

Maybe he should try biting his tongue off, one more time.