The Soldier... Just Get Home

If there was one thing that Thomas hated it would be uncertainty and this mission reeked of it. From the beginning during the operational briefing something was off. In his 8 years of active duty and the last three as a Navy SEAL he had never been in a briefing where the majority of the information and tactical objectives were being given and laid out by a civilian.

Yet here they were, four men in suits, explaining the mission's objectives and laying out the plans and scope of the operation. Since this new President had taken office the missions had taken a hard turn towards civilian objectives. It was becoming clearer to Thomas and his brothers that they were becoming a tool for corporate America.

Why was it necessary to go into the jungles of Sinaloa, Mexico? What was so important that a SEAL team was needed to pull off a rescue mission for corporate representatives?

Yeah this was bullshit thought Thomas...

Thomas Wayne Thibodaux born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana on February the 3rd, 1991. Born to poor white working-class parents, Thomas was fighting the odds from the very beginning. He had a father that seemed to live life with constant anger. Never happy with his lot in life and never happy with his wife and son that he had been blessed with.

From as early as he could remember, his father would often come home drunk and miserable. Depending on the level of intoxication Thomas's father could be just cruel enough to verbally abuse his mother or just beat the living hell out of her.

All the while yelling at Thomas, trying to make his young son understand that all of his pains and suffering could be traced back to his whore mother and his punk ass.

Finally, at the age of 15 when Thomas was able to raise his level of courage and bravery, he was finally able to stand up to his piece of shit father. At first glance one would think that a 15yr old wouldn't stand a chance against a grown man, especially this boy's father. However, Thomas was no ordinary 15yr old.

From the time he entered middle school Thomas began using all the tools his school could offer. Lifting weights and training for all the sports that he could train for, Thomas soon developed into a very unique physical specimen. In football he had become a brutal pass rusher that played with a rage that his young coaches marveled at and yet couldn't quite understand.

By the time he was 15 Thomas stood 6'1" and weighed a solid 205lbs. The day he stood up to his father was a day of shock for the entire family. Thomas was shocked with the ease with which he manhandled his father. His father was shocked and in excruciating pain when his young son snapped his arm at the elbow causing a clean break.

But most of all his mother was shocked at the ease with which her baby boy tossed her tormentor, her husband, out the front door. This would be the last time that Henry Thibodaux would ever attempt to hit his wife or talk down to his son.

From that day on the Thibodaux household was pretty much a very calm and silent household. But when Thomas's father drank and he thought that Thomas was not around he would still bagger his wife.

"I don't know what you're so proud of! He's a fag! Tell me Vivian have you ever seen him with a girl?? I've never seen him with a girl! By the time I was his age I was banging little chippies two and three at a time!" Henry was always brave when he thought that his son wasn't around.

Thomas would make loud noises upon his entrances on those occasions, not wanting to hurt his father again. He had vowed after that day of breaking his fathers' arm that he would not become his father and unless his father attempted to hit him or his mother, he would not lay a hand on him.

Still his father's cruelty was not lost on him and it was a pain in his heart that he lived with until that fateful day. The day that he had to come home from the academy to bury him.

That day as they lowered his fathers coffin into it's deep grave Thomas was finally able to let go of his hate, the hate for his father. He didn't go as far as too forgive his father but at the very least when they placed him at the bottom of his grave, he was able to leave his hate for him, in the same hole.

The thing is, his father wasn't wrong. From a very young age Thomas new he was different. When his friends were off chasing girls, he would bury himself in his workouts, sports or studies. By the time Thomas was a senior in high school he had made a reputation of being the strong silent type.

The girls swooned over him and the boys envied him. Thomas had grown to a massive 6'5" in height and his weight was a solid 225lbs without an ounce of fat. He had athletic scholarship offers from well over 60 different universities.

He had scholarship offers for his talents in football, baseball and wrestling. Thomas had the world on his finger tips and opportunities for the taking.

But Thomas didn't want any of it.

From the beginning Thomas wanted to be a warrior. He wanted to fight for those that couldn't fight for themselves. Throughout his high school career his school was on notice. If you were a bully keep it to yourself. If you were a thug or wanna be thug, keep it to yourself.

If you ever thought about hitting a girl or boy that was defenseless just because you could, don't let Thomas find out.

If you were ever found out for any of the above Thomas would be swift and merciless with his punishment. Students would suddenly drop out of school or were suddenly struck with a more passive personality. Being mean and abusive was not in style during Thomas's high school career.

Many would think that Thomas had a hero complex but what they didn't know was that Thomas had a death wish. Throughout his young years Thomas had a secret. You see Thomas was, is gay. And because society told him that this made him sick and perverse...Thomas wanted to die.

This was something that no one could know. Something that he kept locked inside of him, something that burned a fire deep in his soul. He would often hear his father's ugly voice scowling at his mother. Telling her that his son was a homo, a fag, a fucking queer.

Long after Henry Thibodaux's death Thomas could still hear him saying those things. Thomas eventually told his mother and because of a mothers never ending love and complete acceptance, Thomas managed to live past high school by not killing himself.

He would go on to accept a scholarship to West Point. There he would come into his own. He played for the Black Knights. During his career as a pass rush specialist for the Black Knights Thomas flourished.

But it was during that first year that a more meaningful event took place. He met a young man, Allen Simms from Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. It was after a summer workout that the young student trainer and Thomas became friends.

As the hot summer days went on, events happened that eventually led them to discovering each other's secret, they were both gay. At first it was awkward but as time went by they grew closer until eventually, one evening Thomas worked up his courage and took his young friends virginity.

It was a relationship that flourished for well over a year until just passed their sophomore year. Thomas and Allen were madly in love and had become very good at hiding their relationship. Then just before the start of their junior year Allen wanted to move the relationship farther along.

At first Thomas was taken aback. It took a lot of convincing but Thomas agreed to go with the love of his life to his hometown and meet his parents. Allen's father was nothing like what Thomas had grown up around.

Mr. Simms loved his son and from the very beginning he could see that his son was gay. When Allen finally worked up the courage to tell his mother and father about who he was as a person he was met with love, understanding and encouragement. Emotions that Thomas had eventually received from his mother.

Allen's parents were relieved with their son's honesty.

When Allen called to inform them that he had someone special to introduce them to they were very happy for their son. They gladly welcomed Thomas into their home and the entire week was like a dream for the young men.

Their home was located outside of Beaver Falls, a family farm that was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Allen and Thomas made themselves comfortable in the big red barn, for privacy. Moving everything around in the upper hay loft and enjoying their stay with all the comforts of a fancy outdoor country bed and breakfast, if there is such a thing.

During the day they would help Mr. Simms with the day to day work of the family farm and at night they would enjoy the company of family before excusing themselves for the night.

The last night that Thomas would spend on the farm he made sure to pleasure Allen totally and completely. Thomas and Allen didn't have defined roles in their relationship. It wasn't decided who would be what. There was no Dom or sub. There was no top or bottom.

It was never odd that Thomas would fuck Allen for hours at a time only to turn right around and have Allen fuck him afterwards. Thomas enjoyed sucking Allen's cock as much as Allen enjoyed Thomas's.

In the beginning Allen was always self-conscience about their physical relationship because while Thomas was massive, Allen was lucky if he could consider his barely average. Still Thomas assured him that it didn't matter to him. The only thing that mattered was that he loved him and that was all.

That next day Thomas had to leave a couple of days early because of the start of practice at the Academy. It would be the last time that he would see Allen alive.

The picture the local boys painted was one of a young military cadet out of control. A cadet, that had it not been the four of them, they probably would've been severely injured or at worst maybe killed.

Instead according to their statements, they were lucky to kill the cadet in self-defense.

That was their story but the community knew that it was all a lie. This particular group of boys were always trouble. Three of them barely 15 and one 16 years of age.

All four from affluent families, well connected to the local government and police department. Later after the investigation had concluded and no charges being brought down on the boys it was rumored, by those that knew the boys close, that they had in fact killed Allen because of his sexual orientation.

Allen had been murdered for being gay. The boys that committed the crime would go on with their lives, unpunished.

Thomas had his heart ripped out of him. At the funeral Thomas vowed to fix this wrong. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but one day. One day those responsible would pay, they were on borrowed time.

Thomas not only quit the football team that year he also dropped out of the Academy. He wanted nothing to do with West Point but he still wanted to be a warrior. After taking a few months off he would enlist in the Navy. When he sat in the Naval recruiting office the men recruiting him were baffled. When you drop out of an academy you lose all your rank. Thomas would start out at the very bottom by joining the Navy. He didn't care because he had a plan.

Because of his record at the Military Academy, of being an exemplary student, his proficiency at his military training, the Navy gladly accepted him with open arms. Once out of basic training where Thomas had been extremely impressive, he was fast tracked towards his goal. Thomas wanted to be a Navy SEAL.

Thomas would immerse himself in his training and once again separate himself from the world. For the next five years only one thing mattered and at the age of 25 Thomas became one of the few men to become a Navy SEAL at such a young age.

But throughout those years, late at night when sleep would often abandon him Thomas would think of Allen.

Unable to sleep he would gather himself and wander about town in those late hours. Until one night he came upon a gym, a 24 hour gym. Thomas went in and joined.

During the day Thomas was the model Navy man, performing beyond everyone's expectations. But, at night, Thomas was releasing his inhabitations, his frustration, his anger, his pain. It started on one of those late nights.

He very quickly discovered that this particular all-night gym or weight room was just a meeting place for young gay men. Young men trying to hide who they were from the rest of their world.

When he was first approached Thomas went along with the young man and it wasn't long before he found himself mercilessly fucking the young man in the bathroom stall of the dressing room.

From that first encounter more followed until finally Thomas moved off base and started living in his little one-bedroom apartment above a pool hall in town. There Thomas would entertain his young conquests.

Thomas's rules were simple; the young men were there to serve him. He would never touch their cocks, the only thing he wanted was to have them suck his cock and give up their ass to him. Thomas would never fuck any of them without a condom. If you didn't supply the condom you could just leave because you were of no use to him.

Some of you may think that this was strange and harsh behavior for a young man that had buried the love of his life because of a hate crime or for a young man that championed those that were weaker than him. That somehow with his behavior he was becoming the person, the thing that he vowed to fight.

The thing is, Thomas only used the ones that demonstrated that they had the means to jump through the hoops that he presented. He was fucking rich young men. Every encounter beginning with the young man having to prove his age.

He was fucking and degrading those young men that drove the nice fancy cars. That wore the expensive work out gear. The fancy bling and carried the expensive electronics.

The ones that would purchase for him the items that he required of them without question or hesitation. Thomas would turn around and give the expensive gifts to the homeless, never keeping any of it.

In his mind Thomas was using the very same group of young men that had ripped his heart out with Allen's death. But because Thomas wasn't an animal, he couldn't bring himself to cross the line and actually hurt them, kill them, not them. So, he used them.

Degrading them and using them like worthless items to be defiled and discarded. But he at least had the nerve to tell them before they involved themselves with him. He would tell them they were there to be used by him, for his satisfaction and that this is the way it was going to be. If they didn't like it, they could get the fuck off, leave.

He didn't need them...or so he would say.

Launching from a battleship cruiser off the pacific coast of Mexico, Thomas and his team were being flown in by helicopter, into the Sinaloa jungle. Thomas had his headphones on and was in full Jessie "The Body" Ventura mode, aka the jungle drop-off scene from the movie Predator. CCR's Fortunate Son, Little Richards Long Tall Sally and so on blaring into his headset. Thomas had a bad feeling about this mission.

This wasn't a normal snatch and grab or even a direct action mission where the objective was to kill as many of the bad guys as could be found. No, this mission was to hit a cartel camp where some corporate douchebags were being held and oh by the way, burn it to the ground for good measure.

While all of the above, in it and of itself, were things that Thomas's team were extremely proficient at, this was something that had never, ever been done by a US military team on Mexican soil.

While our two countries have lived with constant turmoil and political issues, direct military intervention was something that had not been done since the days of the Mexican war.

What made this worse was that this was straight out of the black op's playbook. If anything went wrong Thomas and his highly trained SEAL team were on their own.

As the chopper reached the drop off point the team made their way to the bay doors on either side of the chopper as they geared up for the drop into the jungle canopy, not knowing what was below them.

Using the cover of night was always a big help, still, Thomas felt something was off. He could feel it as the team repelled down, landing on the ground and quickly releasing themselves from the cables that had dropped them into harm's way.

Like a well-oiled machine each team member assumed their positions and prepared themselves for the task at hand. Then it all went to shit. The chopper had barely cleared the area when instantly the team started taking fire.

With the help of their night vision Thomas and his team were able to respond taking out as many of the enemy as they could see. But on this night his team was severely outnumbered.

After having exhausted the majority of their ammunitions and digging themselves into a position that they wouldn't be able to hold much longer, Thomas had to make a call.

But then, the thought suddenly hit him. Why were they alive? Why was his team still alive? It was clear that this was not some group of cartel thugs. They were outnumbered, yes, but this was a military opposition facing them down.

It became clear to him that the enemy's objective wasn't to kill them, it was to capture them. And while it is not in a SEAL's creed to be captured, a SEAL is trained to live, live to fight another day. With that Thomas called out issuing his teams surrender much to the anger and frustration of his team.

It took every bit of his teams' discipline to allow themselves to be captured. But once Thomas convinced them that it was either surrender or die, they finally chose to follow their CO's orders.

From that minute Thomas had sentenced his team to hell. Instantly the team's heads were covered with sack cloth hoods. They're bodies beaten every chance that their captors could beat on them. They were marched through the jungle to a location that seemed to take forever to get to.

It took every bit of training for Thomas to keep track of every left and right turn that they made on their trek through the jungle. His internal clock told Thomas how long and how far they had walked. Now all he had to do was gain the upper hand and get his team back to the extraction point.

Easy, right?

Finally, they had reached their destination. Once there, the hoods were removed and the torture would soon follow. From the first day, they were thrown into a make shift cell in a half ass military installation. The building that held them was on the east side of the compound with four other buildings directly to the west of the jail. Each building 20 yards apart from the other in a straight line.

One by one they were taken individually for interrogation. Interrogation...it was torture pure and simple. One by one they were waterboarded, beaten, finger nails pulled and for two of the six team members, legs broken.

Each time they were returned to the others they were not allowed to talk to one another. When they tried, they were beaten by one of the two guards posted to watch over them. Thomas knew that they wouldn't survive much of this.

Years ago, Thomas's most respected sensei had taught him a technique for disarming your opponent, a technique that Thomas always thought to be a joke. A technique that he hated.

Use your weakness to fight their strength.

Thomas put his plan into place. Unfortunately, because he couldn't communicate his plan to his team, he had to trust that when the moment came for them to act, their own training would take over. If this didn't work, his team would die in that jungle.

When it was Thomas's turn to go back into the torture room, he suddenly became scared and weak. Suddenly he was begging his captors to not hurt him anymore. To please stop beating him and he would tell them anything that they wanted to know.