The Soldiers, We Are

PART I

The terrorists stand tall with only the lamp light from above beaming down on them in a cellar-esque room.

The man in the rusted metal chair, with hands bound by ropes behind his back, is only a glimpse of shade. He lifts his head revealing a beaten face but not a beaten spirit. The man grins and spits blood at his assailants.

The leader of the pack, who is quite husky, keeps his composure while his two rebels take an inch back. The leader rests his hand on a medical overbed table neatly lined with bloody medical instruments. The leader takes a few steps closer to the man and violently strikes him across the face. "Tell us what we want to know!"

The man catches his breath as blood drools out of his mouth. "And I keep telling you to ask me nicely."

"We'll keep you in here as long as it takes!" The leader shouts.

The man in the chair surveys the room. "I can tell. I've been sitting here way longer than eight to five."

The leader stares at the man, perplexed. The man returns a solemn look. "It's a job joke. Something I know you three clowns wouldn't know anything about."

The leader groans. "You test my patience, day by day. I am becoming very, very impatient."

"Well, that makes two of us." The man in the chair says. The man peers over the leader's shoulder." Sorry I didn't mean to exclude you two, so I guess that makes four of us."  The man looks back at the leader. "Though I probably shouldn't speak for them, they obviously have a mind of their own whenever their master decides to pull the strings."

The leader snaps his fingers getting one of his associates to move closer to him.

The man in the chair laughs. "It's like clock-work." He says.

The leader looks at his accomplice. "Surprise me."

The accomplice nods and walks out of the room.

The man in the chair looks around confused. "Well, that was vague."

"You don't need to worry." The leader says. "Your time has come."

The man in the chair sits up right as best as possible. "That's kind of rude, wouldn't you say? You told the puppet to surprise you, but from my understanding it's that you are offering me a last meal."

"You no longer get to speak!" The leader roars.

The man in the chair sits motionless for a short while then moves around. "Was that a play on words? Are you going to cut my tongue out?"

The leader shrugs. "That's not exactly what came to mind, but I like that idea more."

The man in the chair smiles. "I'm so happy I could contribute to my death."

The room goes quiet. The man in the chair wobbles for a bit trying to look at the overbed. "You seem to be missing a sharp object to cut my tongue out. I'll make sure this execution stays on course."

The man in the chair now yells out. "Hey Pinocchio, make sure to bring back a pair of scissors! I think Geppetto is missing an item! I'm sure if you bring it back he'll turn you into a real boy!" The man in the chair stares into the leader's eyes as he nods with a grin. "Did I do good?" He asks.

The leader punches the man in his gut. The man grunts and spits as the leader steps back.

"You're right." The man in the chair says. "You need something better." The man shouts again. "We're going to need a cancellation on the order of scissors I think it would probably be wise to just--" The man is interrupted by the entrance of the accomplice. The man lowers his voice with joy. "Oh, there you are!"