Sorry for not updating in a month! I kept going back and rewriting this chapter because I didn't like how it was turning out, so I hope this is okay at least.

Thank you to CrierDetonate for the follow and favorite, and to MrsHappyAnarchy for the follow and review! You guys rock! To MrsHappyAnarchy: I'm glad Kelly is a character you're going to love!

I hope you all enjoy, feedback is always appreciated! XOXO


Chapter 3: No Honor Among Thieves

Kelly's writing:

After a couple days of observing the Marines I will come to intimately know in the line of fire, I have come to some conclusions; or rather, a personality analyzation. I find most, if not all, of the men to be disgusting, slobbering dogs, who's only objective in life is to have sex as much as possible. Being the only woman on base, I have been taking the brunt of their aroused onslaught and offers for me to do sexual favors. I have never turned down so many blow jobs and hand jobs in my life. The Marines are painted like courageous, disciplined warriors that will put their life on the line to defend their country. This is not the introduction I have observed. I have forced myself to grow acquainted with the men so I could improve the base of this story, as much as I wanted (originally) to keep my distance.

Sergeant Brad Colbert

This man is the Team Leader of the Humvee I'll mainly be stationed in when we head into Iraq. He's incredibly tall and intimidating. He has this icy stare that makes you feel small, exposed, vulnerable. Maybe that's why fellow Marines refer to him as 'Iceman.'

Corporal Josh "Ray" Person

Somewhat of a hick without a serious bone in his body. He enjoys talking about pussy, and drinks way too many energy drinks. He really enjoys hearing himself talk, in fact he very rarely shuts up.

Corporal Gabe Garza

Don't know much about the guy, other than he's Mexican but wants to shoot "wetbacks."

Lance Corporal Harold "James" Trombley

I have never met someone so excited to kill. This kid seems a bit unhinged, but at the same time, naïve because of his youth. The kid is only nineteen and has a pregnant wife back home.

Sergeant Tony Espera

Likes to talk about racial issues, and calls everyone "dawg."

Corporal Jason Lilley

Won't put down that damned video camera. He enjoys zooming in on my ass every chance he gets.

Corporal Walt Hasser

Quiet, that's all I've gathered.

Sergeant Rudy Reyes

Straight-up model, I could elaborate more, but I'll keep those thoughts to myself.

Sergeant Larry Shawn Patrick

"Pappy" as the men call him. He really wants to keep his moustache.

Corporal James Chaffin

Asshole.

Gunnery Sergeant Mike Wynn

"Gunny," he seems like the few men around here who are civilized and reserved. It's nice to be comfortable talking to someone other than Evan.

Corporal Evan Stafford

Really likes rap and his black du-rag.

Naval Hospitalman 2nd Class Timothy Bryan

Straight-forward, tells it how it is no matter who you are, takes no shit.

1st Lieutenant Nathanial Fick

Kelly looked up from her journal, biting the end of her pen in thought. She had no idea where to begin to describe Nate Fick, and she didn't understand why trying to wrap her head around his personality was so hard. He was the first solider she considered having an interview with, he had just been so busy she hadn't had a chance yet.

"Hey, Kelly."

Kelly glanced up from her writing, seeing Evan standing in front of her.

"It's chow time," he informed her.

"I'll catch up later."

"They told me this is the only time to eat," Evan added.

Kelly stood up, gathering her things in her bag. She removed her hairbrush, as Evan watched her curiously.

"Since all the men are gathered in the mess area, I'm going to take this rare opportunity to shower," she announced, already heading out of the tent.

"Oh, well…" Evan scratched the back of his head.

"I'm not taking any chances of having some peeping toms spy on me, I need the privacy. So, don't tell them I'll be in there."

Kelly thought that was a logical enough explanation, and headed toward the showers. The showers were built under a tent, with makeshift plumbing and faucets, lined across the entire tent, and all connected. It was like a community shower, only with a sandy ground, and low tarps for some decency. The water pressure was lacking, the Marine-grade towels were scratchy and thin, and the bars of soap that were provided smelled like cheap aftershave, but it was better than nothing. The showers were also used to do laundry, so there were fatigues, boxers, and pants hanging up on a clothesline at the entrance of the tent. Kelly looked around, double-checking to make sure the coast was clear. She picked a shower deeper into the tent, to affirm her privacy, and started to strip down. There was nowhere to hang her clothes, and she didn't want to lie them down right on the dirt, so she had no choice but to string them up on the clothesline. She hung up her shirt, bra, pants, and underwear, and quickly retreated back to the minimal cover the shower tarp offered. She undid her hair from her Dutch braid, and let her long, black hair cascade freely down her back.

She turned the knob on the creaky faucet, and was greeted first with only a few drops of cool water. She let out a frustrated groan, and twisted the knob again. Water came pouring out, but only with the low pressure of a tap water sink. She took the soap and started to lather it around herself, trying to remove all the grime and sand that had already accumulated in just two days. There was no option of shampoos, so Kelly scrubbed her hair with the soap, running her fingers through the long strands. She knew the soap would most likely dry out her scalp, but there were very few luxuries out here in Kuwait. She sang a Destiny's Child song to herself as she rinsed off, enjoying what she could of civilization. They would be shipping out soon, and after that who knew when she'd be able to shower again.

She turned off the water, then proceeded to dab her hair dry, then wrap the towel around her body. She went back toward the clothesline, humming the same song to herself. She stopped humming when she realized her clothes weren't there. Her shirt, pants, bra, shoes, socks and underwear were gone off the clothesline. The glanced around frantically, but they had vanished.

Vanished wasn't the right word, she knew they had been stolen by one of the Marines.

Kelly felt like pulling out her wet, stringy hair out of her scalp, enraged. There was no way in hell she was going to leave this tent in just her towel, she didn't need that kind of degradation. The thought of one of the men sneaking in here to take her clothes, and possibly seeing her, made her skin crawl. She hugged herself, feeling 'naked' in every sense of the word. She had specifically told Evan not to tell anyone she was here, she wondered if he had blabbed. That didn't seem like him, but she had only known the man for a few days.

"Shit… what now, Kelly?" She said aloud to herself, staring into the makeshift shower tent.

She couldn't just stay huddled in a towel in the shower tent forever, eventually men will start to enter, and she'd be ridiculed in that scenario, too. As she scanned the tent in a panic, her eyes caught on the other clothes hanging on the clothesline. There was a tan shirt with the Marine insignia on it, most likely worn under the uniform, and a pair of boxers. She shuddered at the thought that crossed her mind, but she realized she didn't have much of a choice.

"It's do or die," Kelly muttered, reaching up and snatching the shirt and boxers from the clothesline.

She dropped the towel and quickly dressed herself in the clothes. The shirt was huge on her, reaching down to her things, and the boxers waistband was loose on her waist. She could only imagine how much of a lunatic she looked like, but she was far too furious to care about her appearance at this point. She brushed her damp, long hair out of her eyes and stormed out of the tent. Barefoot, sand kicked up and dirtied her just cleaned feet. She could see the tent she was staying in the distance. She balled up her fists and marched in that direction.

As Kelly made her way toward the tent, rehearsing the ugly words she was going to spew, the flagpole caught her eye. To her horror, the American flag and POW flag had been replaced with her panties. The wind blew them as they flapped in the wind. Kelly felt like she was going to explode. She practically sprinted toward the tent, vowing that there was going to be hell to pay.

"PX rations have just-"

Kelly cut Nate off, storming into the tent fuming, her dark skin nearly turning red with fury. Her dark eyes looked like they could burn holes into someone's skin by the sheer intensity of her glare. Her long hair was undone and wild. She breathed heavily, her chest visibly moving up and down.

The Marines grew silent, observing her strange appearance.

"Um, Ms. Shakoor… what happened?" Nate questioned.

"Why are you wearing Brad's shirt?" Ray asked.

"Okay, which one of you numbnuts stole my clothes, and hung my underwear on the Goddamn flag pole?!" Kelly erupted.

Some of the Marines leaned slightly over to see the flagpole outside.

"God Bless America," Ray said, giving a mock-salute toward the flagpole.

"All right, who did it?" Nate asked, with a heavy sigh.

No one spoke up, in fact the entire tent had fallen silent. Someone coughed in the back, but that was it. Kelly's eyes scanned each and every face, looking for the slightest twitch or change in expression for her to know who was guilty.

"Rudy, can you go get Kelly's clothing down for her, and possibly find out where the flags went?" Nate finally asked, breaking the dense silence.

"Sir," Rudy replied, going out of the tent.

Kelly followed the muscular Marine out of the tent, casting one last deadly look over her shoulder at the crowd. She vowed she was going to find out who did it, and make them pay. The saying: "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" has never been truer to her.

0000

Back inside the tent, the Marines were opening up their PX rations. Kelly got her clothes back, although no one came forward admitting guilt yet. She decided to hold Brad's clothes hostage, not wanting to risk getting changed again, now she knew she had to be extra careful. She tied her hair back in a messy bun, and looked down at her notes as the men observed what the Marines have given them. She partly paid attention, mostly she was still fuming from the incident earlier.

While some of the men were turning over the clothes they held, Nate explained the usage of the rations. Kelly admired how professional Nate remained, even when dealing with her clothes being stolen. He apologized for their behavior to her, but she told him it wasn't his fault. Nate said he and Gunny were going to keep a better eye on her for now on, and she prayed that this promise would be kept.

"They are rated to maintain their effectiveness against chemical and biological attack for thirty days," Nate explained, "now make sure they fit now. There'll be no chance to exchange them later."

Kelly felt her flesh run cold at the words "chemical and biological attack," but she said nothing. She would probably be mocked for her naivety, considering this was a warzone. She kept her mouth shut, and scribbled down more notes in her journal. Some of the men started to get changed in front of her, and she kept her eyes glued to her journal. Even Evan was trying on the MOPP pants. Kelly felt envious of Evan again; at least he didn't have to take extra precautions to hide his nudity from these men.

"Do not wash, abrade, or puncture your MOPP suit. We expect to fight dirty," Nate continued.

"Been fighting dirty my whole life," someone mumbled.

"Sir, if we are fighting in a chemical environment, and we get shot, how are they gonna cas-evac us if we're dirty?" Espera asked the Lieutenant.

"They're not."

"What?" Espera exclaimed, shocked by Nate's answer.

"You're hit in a chemical environment, you're fucked anyway."

Espera shook his head, and went to go check the rest of his PX rations. Kelly could understand his shock, the risk of being shot and unable to be saved was likely. It was a scary thought, and just made her feel even more uneasy about a chemical attack.

Brad Colbert removed his newly appointed uniform, and scoffed at it.

"Woodland camouflage? Anyone happen to remember we're invading a fucking desert country?" Brad commented, Nate only raised his eyebrows in response.

"Fuckin' retards," someone added.

"Exactly, what the fuck, man?" Brad exclaimed, pissed.

Kelly decided to open her package, seeing that Evan had already done so. She noticed that the two of them didn't get the same camouflage pattern as the soldiers. She turned it around in her hands, feeling the thick material, and noticing that it was going to be big on her.

"How come the reporters get desert?" Trombley asked, observing the difference just as Kelly did.

"I didn't ask for-" Evan began, defensively. He was trying on the desert camo as he did so.

"Ms. Shakoor, you may want to try on your rations, too, to make sure they fit," Nate informed her.

"Yeah, put on a show for us, baby!" Corporal Anthony 'Manimal' Jacks hollered.

Kelly cocked a thumb in his direction, keeping her eyes on Nate.

"That's exactly why I'm not doing so as we speak. I don't feel very confident that I can change with privacy, Lieutenant," Kelly answered, her voice dead-pan.

Nate nodded solemnly, understanding the reporter's unease.

"I'll keep watch outside of the shower tent as you change later, to make sure no one gets any ideas," Nate told her.

"The Lieutenant wants the haji all to himself," James whispered to Pappy, not loud enough for Nate to hear, but Kelly caught it.

She cast the two men a dirty look before answering Nate.

"Sure, that's fine," Kelly replied, her voice still lacking enthusiasm and trust.

"Good, maybe I can finally get my clothes back," Brad interjected, stepping around Kelly.

Kelly looked at Nate, who only shrugged apologetically at her. She went back to writing in her journal, already fed up with the day, and it was far from over.