"Ericka!"
Freya barged into Ericka's tent, the thick, synthetic fabric door flapping behind her as the crisp, cold air from outside briefly swept in.
Inside, the harsh fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling cast an artificial glow over the space.
The soft hum of a portable generator buzzed in the background, its low drone mingling with the scent of sweat, military-grade disinfectant, and the lingering metallic odor of guns and ammo..
Gasp!
Freya froze, her breath catching in her throat.
"Huh?"
Her mind momentarily short-circuited.
"Mmmmghhh!~ Ahh!~"
"Ha-ha-ha! Your daughter is here, Ericka!" the man's voice boomed through the tent, deep and filled with mocking laughter.
Pak!
Pak!
Pak!
The obscene slapping of flesh against flesh filled the space, mingling with the occasional creak of the metal folding cot and the rustle of tactical gear scattered across the floor.
