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brUTUS

Brutus reached out and touched the compact weapon. "Looks different from what I've seen in movies."

"The real thing usually is," Castellanos said. "This is what we'll be using for all the rest of your training. You'll learn how to operate it, field strip it, clean it put it back together."

Brutus's stomach roiled suddenly and he turned his head, burping loudly and painfully. Castellanos stopped. "Damn! You okay?"

Brutus nodded, rubbing his stomach. "Ugh... that chili mac n' cheese for lunch was rough as hell," he said. "I don't handle spicy food very well, but that was the only protein other than milk available. I think next time, I'll just go with a double protein shake instead. Damn."

Castellanos chuckled, and reached into her pocket. "Here. I hate spicy food myself, and keep some antacids on me all the time."

Brutus took two of the tablets and chewed them up, savoring the chalky flavor. "Thanks. No spice for you too?"

Castellanos nodded. "People assume once they hear my name that I always want spicy food.

But Puerto Rican food isn't spicy by nature.

Still, people hear Castellanos and assume I'm Mexican or something.

Hell, even Mexican food isn't always spicy.

" She took a deep breath, and blew a lock of hair out of her face.

He could tell she had more to say on the subject, but was trying to focus on her job at hand.

"Anyway, back to the M4. You're going to learn how to operate it because we will be carrying rounds during the exercise. "

"We will?" Brutus asked, surprised. "You people trust me with ammunition?"

"Actually, we'll be using Simunition."

Castellanos reached into her pocket and taking out a round. There was a hole in the back, it clearly wasn't 'live,' but for teaching purposes.

"The bullet's been replaced with a paintball-like round. And you will be wearing body armor, because trust me, these little fuckers can leave a welt that'll last a long time. I once caught one in the... hip. I was limping and bruised for a week afterwards."

Brutus lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. "Hip, huh?"

"Hip."

"Uh-huh. Well, let's make sure we don't have a repeat of that," Brutus said. "So how do we use this thing?"

Castellanos started her instruction, and Brutus had to admit that the class was remarkably clear. Part of it of course was that Castellanos had Brutus echo her movements, demonstrating each step with her own M4 before he did the same.

"So after you put it on semi, you just aim and squeeze the trigger." She squeezed her trigger. A dry click echoed through the armory, and she rotated her switch back to safe. "Now you try. The M4 is safe for dry firing."

Brutus did as instructed, 'chambering' a non-existent round by pulling the charging handle and then bringing the rifle up to his shoulder and peering through the sight.

"What about accuracy?" he asked as he squeezed the trigger.

When Castellanos didn't answer, only pointing at her selector switch, he quickly cleared the chamber and put the rifle back to safe mode before setting it on the table.

"Sorry. Aiming?"

"During the exercise, we're only going to be on short range scenarios," she said. "Normally, we'd fine-tune your sights, get you comfortable with this rifle. But for this exercise, short range is all we need to worry about."

"What's yours?" he asked, intrigued.

"Seven right, three up," Castellanos said automatically. "It's something you just know after a while."

"And how accurate is that?" Brutus asked. "It always seems like in movies that people shoot a hundred times and don't hit anything."

"That's usually plot armor," Castellanos joked.

Brutus laughed.

"Truth is, it's not that hard to adjust to someone else's rifle.

A common trick that a lot of drill sergeants do in basic training to inspire confidence in the new privates is they take just some random private's rifle, without any adjustments, and go out on the qualification range.

They might not hit a perfect score, but they always qualify. "

"And your score?"

"With the M4? I shot thirty-nine out of forty my last trip to the qualification range. Anyway, let's keep going, then I'll go over the body armor you're going to be wearing. That might be more familiar to you, Mr. Shoulder Pads."

Brutus grinned, wondering if he'd heard the little note of flirtation in her voice that he thought he'd heard.

He wasn't sure, and had restrained himself from doing anything about his self-admitted attraction to Castellanos because he didn't want to fuck things up with the league or the Bluecats.

But sometimes when she wasn't clearly annoyed with him for some reason, he'd caught her glancing in his direction, and he thought that maybe she was interested in him as more than just a visitor to her fire team.

And now he heard it in her voice.

They went through the rest of the class, finishing with Brutus breaking down, demonstrating how to clean, and reassembling the M4 in front of him before Castellanos was satisfied.

"Okay during the exercise, still make sure you check off with me after you do any cleaning or field stripping." She locked the weapons up, "but nice job. Now onto what we'll be wearing. Follow me."

Castellanos led Brutus deeper into the arms room, to a huge triple rack of vests on thick metal hangars. "Beefy."

"Pick one up, you'll see why," Castellanos said, gesturing. Brutus picked up the vest off the hangar, grunting in surprise when it was fully in his hands.

"Damn, this is heavy," he said.

"That's just the training weight. A full combat load? Fifty pounds, easy. It takes a toll on your body."

Brutus took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Why aren't they making it... I don't know, lighter?

I mean, every year they're coming out with lighter and lighter weight equipment for us.

I think my game day uniform's about ten or eleven pounds, and that's distributed across my entire body to include my cleats, helmet, and pants. "

“Oh no, this is the lightweight stuff," Castellanos said sadly.

"Brutus, I know you don't quite get it, but it's this sort of shit that takes out so many soldiers I've lost count.

Guys go over a wall to get out of the line of fire, and their knees get blown out because they're landing with all that extra weight.

Or their spines get turned to glass and jelly by landing just a little too hard on a parachute landing, or coming off a rappel a bit too hard, or just having to carry all this shit and another fifty pounds of gear on a ruck march for day after day after day because there's no other way to get all the shit a soldier needs to live from point A to point B in their theater of operations.

Good soldiers, their health ruined and their lives forever altered because of the very equipment meant to keep them safe in battle. "

"How do you deal with it?" Brutus asked, shaken up. "I mean, I've got millions socked away, the Bluecats have team doctors, trainers... you guys have what?"

"Not as much as I wish we had," Castellanos admitted.

"But that's what the job requires, and why we train so hard.

I do yoga every night in my room to help realign my joints and keep my shoulders and spine as healthy as I can.

And while it's not the same in every unit, at least here in the 3/3 we do PT with the idea of getting maximum benefit out of our workouts while doing minimal damage.

Probably a lot like what you do in your offseason? "

"Yeah... but you don't get an offseason," Brutus pointed out. "I mean, Dawks was telling me about how you guys have red, yellow, and green cycles where you have greater or lesser chances of going on missions... but you don't have an offseason."

"We deal with it."

Brutus shook his head, and put the plate carrier vest back on the rack. "Still Castellanos... I mean, I'm two hundred and fifteen pounds right now, give or take. I'll add about fifteen over the offseason as I pack on muscle to get ready, but you know what I mean. You're what, a buck twenty?"

"Remember, I told you at the PT test, I'm a hundred and thirty-six pounds," Castellanos said with a hint of pride. "I've always been skinny, but the Army's packed some muscle onto me too. It's denser than soft curves, so I look one twenty to most people though."

"You're right, I forgot you said that," Brutus acknowledged while thinking a lot about Castellanos's feminine curves.

"I'm just saying that the toughness you've got, dealing with the job, the danger, the pounding on your body, makes me feel like a total chump.

You're tough, Castellanos... almost as tough as you are pretty. "

He paused, measuring how Castellanos would react. Since asking about her dating life, he'd tried to keep things job-based, but he had to say something. She was so remarkable that he felt it was worth the risk.

And this time, he saw, she didn't immediately rebuff him. "Brutus... you're here to work."

"For another few days." Brutus pushed things a little.

"Look, we're going to go do this field exercise through the weekend, right?

Well I'll say it again. I've learned my lesson, Castellanos.

And I still think in my gut that yeah, I'm a warrior in my own way.

But you're all more warrior than I am. Still.

.. I'd at least like to know your first name. "

Castellanos stammered, and Brutus stepped closer. Her lip quivered, and he could feel the magnetism between them as she exhaled... "Linda."

"Linda," Brutus repeated softly, reaching up and cupping a soft cheek. "The name fits."

He leaned in further, and pressed his lips to hers.

For a moment she stiffened, resisting his advance before giving in and kissing him back.

Her hands found the front of his uniform and he slipped his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her in tighter as his free hand went around her waist. She was glorious, her mouth opening to his tongue and meeting his, moaning as their kiss deepened.

Sliding his hand down, Brutus groaned deep in his chest as he felt the firm curve of her ass through her pants, grateful for the wonders of Army training combined with yoga, at least in the realm of Linda Castellanos's derriere.

He'd never felt a more perfect ass, curving lushly while still firm and supple under his hand.

He was about to let go of her neck to see if he could feel the soft weight of her breast with his hand when a rattling sound came from the door, and Linda pushed him away.

"Hey, Sergeant Castellanos!" a voice called from the door.

Linda wiped her lips, staring accusingly at Brutus as she called back, "Yeah, whatcha need Crews?"

"Top wanted me to check with you what size Superstar is. Top's going to run by the PX and get him a tactical undershirt for the FTX."

Brutus cleared his throat. "I wear a XXL, or XL if it's stretchy!"

"Oh, you're in here too?" Crews appeared around the corner of the armory. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Sergeant Castellanos was showing me the plate carriers we'll be using on the exercise."

Brutus looked at Linda and hoping he was covering well. He was painfully erect, and the ACU pants he was wearing were doing a shitty job of disguising it.

"We're almost done, if you want me to stop by the company office."

"Nah, it's cool. Top'll see what he can get," Crews said before leaving.

Brutus looked at Linda, who was staring at him with anger, hurt, and something else in her eyes. Disappointment, he thought. "Linda, I-"

"Save it," she whispered fiercely, poking a finger into his chest as hard as she could.

"Because if you really respected me as a warrior Brutus.

.. you wouldn't have fucking done that. Now get the fuck out of here and wait for me in the hallway.

I'd like to kick your ass for that... but I don't want to explain to First Sergeant why I'm doing it. "

Brutus wanted to protest, to point out that she'd kissed him back. He wanted to say that he felt her hand on his ass just as much as he'd groped hers. But instead he left, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere at the moment.

Still, as he waited outside in the unheated basement hallway, he could still feel his lips burning from Linda's kiss... and he very much wanted to feel those lips again.