Page 8

LINDA

T he morning was chilly as the official first day of 'The Brutus Project' began. Linda ran down the mental checklist of what she needed to do. This field exercise was standard fare, but Linda knew this week would be anything but. Brutus's presence changed everything.

He looked ready, freshly shaved. But then he was also out of uniform. The royal blue of his Bluecats warmup suit cut a striking contrast against the sea of black and gold, drawing her eye immediately. It was impossible to ignore him.

Of course, part of that was Brutus himself. His warmup suit strained against his shoulders, chest, thighs, a testament to the raw power beneath the fabric. Linda had to resist the urge to stare.

Even in the offseason... Linda's mind whispered. The man's a stud.

"Good morning Cranked Company," Major Kirk looked around. "And a special welcome to our guest this week, Brutus Townsend. We're going to kick our week off with something everyone just loves to partake in, right?"

"Hooah!" was of course the response, but Linda had to chuckle.

She'd done fitness tests her entire time in the Army, taking one in the early March cold sucked. The heater wasn't doing anything about the chill at that point but at least they were indoors

"Just what I thought," Major Kirk, who could hear all the subtle nuances of the 'Hooah,' said with a grin.

"Now for most of us, this will be a diagnostic test. We'll be doing it just because it's a good way to kick off the week.

But for Mr. Townsend and five other members of the company, you will be doing them for the record.

However, I still expect everyone to give their best effort.

So first, fall out, gather around Lieutenant Starr as she demonstrates the first event, the three repetition max deadlift. "

The company broke up, everyone gathering around Lieutenant Starr. Linda slid over to Brutus, who was watching intently. "You feel up for this?"

"Sure," Brutus said, a playful smirk on his face. "What's the top score get me?"

Linda leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Maybe I'll tell you... if you impress me. But seriously, you don't need to max out everything."

"You want me to do my best, show a good attitude, right?" Brutus asked. "Then you'll get that. Now let's get warmed up."

The platoons reformed and spread out throughout the gym for warmup exercises. She wasn't worried about the events in general, she had pushed herself hard to stay fit, and to keep up with Lieutenant Starr and Jessica Adams, who looked excited and ready to go.

As the platoon got in line for their run through the tests, she even came over from Third Squad, a confident look on her face. "Five bucks says I can out-lift your new guy."

Brutus, who was right in front of Linda, gawked when he overheard the comment. Turning around, he looked at Adams, taking the measure of the woman. "You're serious?"

"You're serious, Sergeant," Linda corrected him. "And I'm not taking that bet. I know how you get, Sergeant Adams."

The event started, and Linda kept herself loose.

The three rep deadlift was her least favorite event.

Linda hated it. It seemed unfair how long and thin she was.

So while she did okay on the women's scale, deadlifting a hundred and fifty pounds for her test, on the men's side she was barely passing.

But when it was Brutus' turn, almost all eyes cut to him. People were understandably curious how well a professional football player would do… but the results were shocking.

"More weight," Brutus said after repping three hundred pounds. A twenty-five pound plate was inserted on each side, and he lifted it like it was nothing. "More weight."

"Mr. Townsend, you only need three fifty to-"

"More. Weight."

In the end, Brutus topped out at an even five hundred pounds, the best in the company, and still he did it like it was easy.

It even topped Jess Adams, who put on an impressive show per her bodyweight with a maximum of three hundred and eighty pounds, but still lost out on total poundage to Brutus easily.

Putting the weight down at the end, he grinned. "Okay… what's next?"

For the next ninety minutes, Linda watched in shock and awe as Brutus put on a physical clinic. She expected him to be the best in certain events, the man was a professional athlete. But it was by just how much he was better that shocked her.

The standing medicine ball throw? He tossed the ten pound ball a casual three quarters the length of the basketball court when it was his turn, and probably could have gone further if it hadn't been that his release angle was off and he arced the ball too high into the air, almost scraping the roof's support beams. Again, he outclassed the entire company by a measurable amount.

He maxed out the hand release pushups, and in the sprint-drag-carry, he was ten seconds faster than the max score time. He was near-unbeatable.

By the time the company lined up for the next event, the plank for time, people were starting to cheer him on, and take bets to see if anyone could beat him.

"Max score time is three minutes and forty seconds," Captain King, who was scoring Brutus for the event, said.

"Company record is an even five minutes. "

"Because of the score sheet, or because of actual tapping out?" Brutus asked.

King lifted pursed his lips. "Little of both I suppose."

Brutus nodded and assumed the position. Linda was right next to him, taking the test at the same time, and when the whistle blew she glanced over. "Still feeling strong?"

"Our S&C team at the Bluecats has us work these," Brutus said. "I'll be fine."

"Good… because I'm the one who has the company record," Linda informed him with a smirk. "Planks are easier when you only weigh a buck thirty six."

"We'll see," Brutus replied, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Linda did the same, hearing the cheers from the rest of the company as time continued, but she kept going until she heard a grunt on the other side and saw Brutus waver. Her stomach gave up and she dropped to the court at the same time as Brutus, to the cheers of the company.

"Six minutes, nine seconds!" Captain King declared, and Linda thumped a fist on the ground.

"Six-nine?" Brutus asked, earning laughs as the meaning came through. "That was totally unintentional."

Linda was helped to her feet, and as the company stretched to get ready for the run, she stretched her arms over her head.

"You okay?" Orkin asked her. "You probably fucked your run."

"I know, but I'll pass." She groaned as another cramp threatened. "Just a diagnostic for me today anyway."

"Yeah well, congrats," Orkin told her, glancing over at Brutus who was carefully rolling his ankles back and forth. "You're the first person to actually make him work. Even Push-up Waller only beat him because of non-counted reps. Now we'll see if someone else can push him in the run. No offense."

Linda, who did well in the run but was far from the fastest member of the company, shook her head.

"None taken. I'll be happy if I break eighteen minutes today. God the APFT was faster."

"We were less tired then," Orkin reminded her. "Okay, see you on the line."

The only event to be held outdoors in winter, the two-mile run was an event of the old test. Then, she had to run the two miles in roughly sixteen and a half minutes to get ninety points, but today was looking like a failure.

She could be a full minute slower on the ACFT and still get ninety points, but as the whistle blew and they took off, she knew that wasn't going to be the case today.

She'd used too much of her stomach and leg power keeping herself locked in the plank, and as the company rounded the first gentle bend of the flat road course, her watch told her that eighteen minutes would be a struggle even.

Amazingly though, she saw a repeated flash of blue bobbing in and out of the group running ahead of her, and as they rounded the second turn that marked the one-mile point, she pulled even with Brutus, who was puffing and grunting with every step.

"Second half, second half," he chanted to himself, almost not seeing Linda as she pulled up next to him.

"What?"

"You okay?" she asked, and he grunted.

"Brutus, this isn't a real test for you, you can?—"

"I can make it," he grunted, pouring on the effort and picking up his pace.

He pulled ahead of her by nearly fifty yards, but as they came to the last turn and the finish line, they were dead even again, Linda even slowing up a bit to finish at eighteen minutes, thirty seconds.

It was far from her best time, but still passing.

Actually, Brutus had passed as well, but was near the back of the company. Only a few others had been slower.

"Okay Cranked, good job." Major Kirk looked around as everyone did their cool down stretches. "Everyone passed, but I expected that. Get showered up, get changed for work, and I'll see you all at the motorpool for everyone's favorite day of the week, Motorpool Monday. Dismissed!"

The company broke up, and Linda pulled Brutus aside.

"Brutus, what happened?" she asked. "You're limping."

"Forget it," Brutus said, clearly in pain.

His face was nearly bedsheet white, with sweat still trickling down his temples and slicking down the hair at the back of his neck. With every step, his nose twitched as he tried not to show his injury, yet he refused to utter a single syllable of complaint.

"Seriously, I'll be fine."

She wanted to argue with him, but let it go. The man's pride obviously was bigger than his common sense, and whatever was wrong with him he wasn't going to talk about right now.

She had to get back and shower up anyway.

Still, as she hopped in the shower and soaped up quickly, she couldn't stop thinking about Brutus and the way he'd run.

He clearly finished the run in absolute agony, and she reminded herself to check up on him.

Maybe Lieutenant Parker might know something about it?

It would have been tempting to luxuriate under the pulsing water, but Linda knew that she didn't have time.

Instead, she got out, drying herself off efficiently with her towel before going into the main room and pulling her uniform off of the clothing bar next to her television.

Since she lived alone she'd done some rearranging, and now all her clothes hung in the main portion of her barracks room, which got better air circulation in the summer.

She'd just pulled her undershirt on and had her pants up when there was a knock at her door. Not even thinking, and figuring it was just one of her team members who needed something before work began, she buttoned her pants and called out,

"Come on in!"

It was Brutus, and again Linda was struck dumb.

He was in just his pants and boots, shirtless, and as she looked at him she couldn't help herself.

Her eyes unconsciously traced every curve and swell of muscle on his thickly muscled upper body, from the dinner plate-sized pectorals and baseball-sized biceps to the powerful, thickly blocked and chiseled abdominal muscles of his stomach, to the happy trail that just started below his belly button and disappeared into his pants.

And in her mind, she felt a very un-military-like flush of desire for the man.

"Uhm, Sergeant? Got a problem."

"I… I can see that." Linda tried not to bite her lip as she drank in the sight of the sexy, muscular man in her doorway.

She knew he was handsome, she'd seen him perform up close and in person.

She'd even had him flirt with her. But now she was left instinctively attracted to him, and had to force herself back into her job.

"What is it?"

"I just opened the package of uniform t-shirts that you guys picked up for me, and someone messed up." He held up one of the brown undershirts he was supposed to wear with his uniform. "Instead of extra large… well, you see."

Linda did see. The shirt looked barely big enough to slide the torso over his arm, and she thought the shirts would be too small even on her.

"Damn, I didn't know they even made them that small."

"Yeah well… I tried, and there's a rag in my room demonstrating that," Brutus said.

"Any ideas?"

Linda thought quickly and nodded.

"You have another exercise t-shirt with you, right?"

"Yeah, I packed three of them." He snapped his fingers as her suggestion got through to him.

"Wear that?"

She nodded.

"Wear that under the top, and keep the collar up. If anyone asks, tell them I told you to do it. We're at the motorpool all day today, so most people will be in coveralls anyway. The Major doesn't like people getting their uniforms oily and dirty unnecessarily."

"Okay, cool," Brutus said. He rubbed his hand through his hair, and took a deep breath.

"And uh… thanks for slowing up on the run."

"Thanks for pushing me on the plank," Linda replied, flashing a grin that wasn't quite sergeant-like, but more Linda-like.

"Now go get your ass in gear and get to the DFAC. There's only forty-five minutes left in breakfast, and if you eat breakfast anything at all like you ate dinner last night, you're going to need every spare minute you can to shovel eggs down your throat."

"Eggs?" Brutus blanched slightly.

"I hate eggs. Especially runny ones."

"Ooooh, tough one there dude." Linda laughed.

"They're not going to give you enough bacon to offset no eggs, so if you want your protein and calories… close your eyes and think of something slick and slightly salty that you like going down your throat. It's what I do."

"Is that so?" Brutus asked.

Linda gasped, realizing what she'd just said. It was a total accident, she hadn't meant it that way, but now that she'd said it, the innuendo was very clear. And she couldn't get it out of her head.

"Go, get a fucking shirt on," she replied quickly, pointing. "I'll see you in the DFAC to walk you to the motorpool."

Brutus left, and as her door closed, Linda let out a shaky breath.

Slick and salty, running down her throat.

Where the hell had that come from?

Actually, she knew… but she didn't like it.