Okay, very raw opening for my story but tell me what you think.
Miguel Juan Lopez had been captured by the Nationalist forces. He and his squadron of Republicans had started out the Civil War as just defenders of the Republic but two long years of Civil War had radicalized them. The Nationalists that caught them reviewed them as they prepared to execute them. A familiar face approached Lopez. Where did he know this face from? He figured he would soon breathe his last so he felt no harm in yelling out “Pedro, Pedro Iglesias, is that really you?” A vaguely familiar face turned and starred. The fascist’s face, undistinguishable before became friendly.
“Miguel, what are you doing among this socialist lot?”, asked Pedro
“I could ask the same of why you fight for fascists who want to take away the rights of the people.”, Miguel replied.
The two men had known each other as boys. Both their fathers were part of Spain’s pre-Republican elite but Pedro’s father’s job had taken him to far away from where they grew up and they had lost touch. Miguel had embraced Marxism in college. He wanted to be a lawyer, a fighter for the people. Pedro had presumably joined the army as his father before him and joined the officers rebellion against the Republic two years ago.