"I can go forty miles on a single charge, and get up to twenty miles an hour," Castellanos said with a bit of pride. "Best of all, I charge up the battery in my room. Anyway, you were saying about football."
"Yeah well... my life's always been about football," Brutus admitted. "As a kid I lifted weights not because I wanted to look like The Rock or some super hero from the comic books, but because it would prepare me for football. All of my routines were about building football strength, not looks. You know why most guys do bicep curls, right?"
"Curls for the girls," Castellanos said wryly.
Brutus laughed.
"You didn't?"
"I've never done more than three sets of direct bicep work a week, and that's only so I can keep my bicep tendons strong. Football doesn't require biceps," he explained. "Summer camp always was at a university, sometimes one my dad would guest coach at, but always, always included the pigskin."
"But you want more."
Brutus looked at Castellanos, surprised. The only person he'd ever told that to was his therapist. "What makes you say that?"
"A vibe I get from you," Castellanos said. "Look, if all you cared about was football, you'd have never gotten the rep you have, the so-called Bluecat Bad Boy. By the way, who came up with that nickname? The PR department?"
"Some asshole at ESPN," Brutus said. "But it hurt me. So you're looking to be more than either a poster boy of the league, flashing a pearly white smile from time to time and not doing shit other than football. But something about that, and about what you've just told me, eats at you."
"You're insightful."
"Comes with the background, learning to read people. That rep, you're caught between trying to live up to it, and not wanting it. If you were at peace, you wouldn't get worked up about the fans, or be here. You'd have paid your fine and done the easiest job possible to get out of trouble with the league. Am I right?"
Brutus nodded reluctantly, surprised that someone saw so deeply into him so quickly. "My agent thinks I'm nuts to have insisted on doing my internship with a real unit and not just done a spring football camp for one of the service academies or some PR work with one of the more famous units. No offense, but the Three-Three isn't well known."
"Compared to the 82nd or the 101st, for damn sure we're not," Castellanos admitted. "Sort of comes with the territory of our missions. We're... utility players. Can't go into it more than that. So you want to be known as more than a football player."
Brutus didn't answer, just looked at the ground in between his feet for a bit before getting up. "Come on. I bet the Army doesn't like us sitting around on our asses."
They kept going over the truck, but Brutus felt different than before. Knowing that the woman with him had been through so much, yet didn't judge him for his privileged upbringing, affected him deeply.
"So the last items I'll do," Castellanos said, "since it involves the radio. You haven't been through the classes."
"Can I watch though?"
"Sure. Can you take the clipboard?"
Brutus took the passenger seat and watched while she started working on the military radio in the center console. After a moment, he spoke up. "My ankle."
"What?"
"You asked me this morning why I sucked so hard in the run."
"I wouldn't say suck," Castellanos replied, shifting to get a better view of the radio's controls. "You weren't at the same level as you were with the other events."
"I was almost last."
Castellanos laughed, causing Brutus to look at her askance. He didn't like people laughing at him, but he held his tongue as the beautiful woman's laugh sounded so genuinely amused. Finally, she slowed. "You're comparing yourself to infantry soldiers, Brutus."
"And?"
Castellanos took a deep breath. "Okay, let me explain. Infantry is filled with physical psychos. It's like... like IQ tests. You know how they score those, right?"
"Yeah, had to take one before the draft," Brutus said. "My point is, 'average' is supposed to be a hundred, right? But what happens if everyone starts scoring a hundred and fifteen?"
"Nice. But that's exactly it," Castellanos said. "So infantry is literally saying that 'average' is a B plus in school, or an A. But if everyone's scoring an A, what's that mean about 'average'? It doesn't mean shit."
"Yeah well... I don't like being almost dead last," Brutus admitted. "I never have."
