Thread: Rape Camp (skittish_butterfly & littlerooster)

Sitting alone in her window seat as the countryside clattered by outside, Jen looked over her orders one more time, still finding it hard to believe, Special Forces, her. The experience of seeing the tears in her dad's eyes when she'd enlisted right out of college had been amazing enough, but when she called him on the phone just this lasts week with her latest news, barely a month and a half out of basic still and already his little Jennifer getting to train and tryout for a special unit, no words had ever sounded more special to her than his weakly croaked, Semper Fi. It was only too bad Mom wasn't around for this, but she would have just worried herself sick. My daughter with the perfect cheekbones, could have married a doctor or a lawyer or been a model herself, and instead she's running around playing soldier with her fancy college degree? No, this was better. And no, Jen could not have been a model. Sure, maybe her mom was right in that all the track and exercise gave her the slender figure for modeling, all her curves somehow happily in all the right places, and if she had ever bothered sitting with her mom to absorb her wisdom, all the ins and outs of which makeup and blush to apply and where and how, then Jen's cheekbones and pert little nose might have looked good on camera. But she knew she was too short at only 5'5 for the cat walk. But more importantly, she had real goals in her life, bigger ambitions than selling her face or body to the camera to help move product. She was going to make her dad proud, live up to the stories of his bravery in the Marines, before he got wounded. Jen felt the train slowing but was in no hurry to get up. She was the only one in her compartment. Instead she sat and double checked the dispatch slip attached to her orders, reading it over one more time to make sure there was no mistake like her dad always taught her. Jen, check and double check everything. It's the little things that get you killed. Or wounded, he didn't have to say. Solid advice that had gotten her through college on the dean's list, earned her solid marks in Basic and what she'd thought at the time was a plum assignment, and now this. She read the slip to herself. PFC Jennifer M. Geller. Report to central train station at 0900 hours. Friday the 12th. Meet Army Private Luann Beckett 555-1212 for travel upstate on the 21b line. Disembark Kramer Station. Meet Sergeant Kruger who will drive you both to the base. You are allotted one small bag of personal effect for WASP training. No exceptions. The last little bit had almost tripped her up until she had the sense to dump her purse into the backpack and compress the whole thing that much more. No exceptions. It was the little things. Of course, as only Jen knew at this point, Private Beckett was already out before Women's Ancillary Services Platoon even began. Luann had called her while Jen was already standing at the train ready to board. Too bad about her mom. Jen had wished her a speedy recovery and Luann wished her good luck on making the platoon, and that was it. Jen was starting this adventure on her own. It was just as well. With over 300 candidates and only 50 or fewer slots from what her CO had told her, it could well be cutthroat. Better not to get too friendly with someone on the first day who might just turn around and stab her in the back or make her life miserable on the second. So it was that Jen jumped down from the train with just the khakis she was wearing and the boots on her feet, the elastic band holding her brunette hair back in her usual pony tail, and the battered old backpack she'd had since Freshman year at University. She chuckled to think what everyone back there would think if they knew where she was headed now. They'd howled as if it was a personal betrayal when she told them she was joining the Marines, somehow inconceivable to them a college grad would waste an education on something so pointless, so stupid. And even worse, she was a girl. To them she was the crazy one for not taking a grad school offer or interning on Wall Street. But she was resolved to live a life of meaning, to make her choices count for something bigger than herself, like her dad did. The pride she heard in his quavering voice as he struggled to speak just those two simple words, Semper Fi, it told her she'd done the right thing, and she'd promised him she wouldn't let him down. She walked the length of the track beside the station, eyes peeled for Sergeant whatever his name was. The orders were packed away again so she didn't bother taking them out to check, not yet at least. Then she thought better of it. Always check. She sat down and pulled them out one more time to be sure Kruger, that was it. A nice looking guy in a suit sat next to her on the bench, checking her out with that familiar body language, the slow look. Jen did not have time for this right now and just gave him a full on glare. She wasn't sure what it was about her, maybe the petite figure and the heavy boots? Or just Mom's favorite cheekbones. Who knew? But she'd gotten more than enough practice working on her glare over the years, trying to keep her time for study and track free as the guys buzzed around her. Occasionally a little fun, a date or two, but that was all she had time for. And this was the reward. She got up and saw a spindly guy in uniform by the vending machines scrounging his pockets for change to buy some smokes. She walked up and offered her hand. Sergeant Kruger? Pleased to meet you. The guy looked at her, puzzled just for a moment and then shook his head. Nope, name's Weiss, but I'd change it for you in a heartbeat if it would make any difference. She apologized, walking back to the restaurant at the side of the station. At worst, she'd call the base and check what was going on. The bell rang as she opened the door and took a seat. The waitress didn't come and Jen got impatient, then looked around. Of course. Flirting with a handsome guy, huge blonde dude. Annoyed as she was, Jen couldn't blame her. As the waitress turned, finally spotting Jen, Jen finally got a full look at the huge guy behind her. Uniform. Couldn't be. Could it? He didn't look like any motor pool Sergeant she'd ever seen. Jen wave the waitress off, making the girl just frown and shrug. Approaching the table, cleared her throat. Sergeant Kruger? Is this seat taken? She waited a beat, then offered her hand when he seemed to recognize his own name. Geller, Private Geller. WASP? You're supposed to drive me -- us, I mean -- to the base. Only Private Beckett isn't going to make it. Family emergency. Jen sniffed. How's the coffee here? Worth having a cup? Or do you want to hit the road right away. She set her pack on the other seat and sat down, waiting for some kind of signal from the guy. This was it, first moments of her new training, her chance. Even if he was just a driver, make every chance count, right?