Page 21 of Julian Shared
Though instead of jogging and push-ups, it looks like a wrestling bout.
With only two men on the ground.
"The fuck is going on?" I murmur. "Is that Specialist Tillman?"
Tillman's a good soldier, but he specializes in helicopter repairs. Not suplexes.
And the soldier he has locked in a submissive position…shit. That’s Manuel.
I might be getting too old for all-nighters.
But I’ll never be too old for some ass-kicking.
???
By the time I make it outside, Manuel’s turned the tide of the fight to his favor. He has Tillman splayed face down and Manuel’s posed above him, in control of one of Tillman’s arms. They’re screaming obscenities at each other while the rest of the soldiers egg on the violent theatrics.
Who the hell is in charge here? Me now, apparently.
“Stand down!” I holler. With an open scowl and flex of my upper arm muscles, I use my full strength and both arms to wrangle Manuel away. Once he realizes it’s me, all the fighting fervor drains out of him. After I’ve hauled Manuel off Tillman, I pull rank to get everyone else in line.
The rest of the soldiers quiet down once they notice who I am. They’re real quick to shut their traps, stand up straight, and keep their eyes pinned forward.
This lapse in order and outburst of bad behavior is going to have to be dealt with immediately.
Manuel’s wiping blood off his face, but it isn’t his. Tillman’s the one with blood pouring out of his nose. And tears streaming down his face.
“He fucking Jodied me, sir!” Tillman cries out.
Whatever happened, it ain’t being sorted out while everybody’s blood is running hot and the adrenaline is rushing. “Private,” I call out one specific wide-eyed-looking soldier. “Escort Specialist Tillman here to the MTF.”
The medics will see to his injury over there while I see to the damage done here.
“As for the rest of y’all, drop and me give me forty right now to finish off PT. And then get your asses back to the barracks. I want a two-page report of what went down, and it’ll be on my desk in the next hour, understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” The rest of the soldiers ring out in unison and drop down in sync.
As for Manuel, well, I march his sulking ass right into my office.
???
“What the fuck was that?” I demand with a glare once the door to my office is shut.
“Hey, I didn’t swing first.” Manuel’s mouth slinks into a smirk. “He started it. I just ended it.”
When Manuel’s attempts to clean the leftover blood over his face with spit and a tissue get him nowhere fast, I rip it from his hand and wad it up, throwing it into the trash. I’ve got a pack of wet wipes shoved in my desk drawer. I hand it over to him. “Clean yourself up.”
While Manuel wipes his face, I grill him for the details and specifics over what just happened. “Did you really sleep with his wife?”
“Yeah, I did.”
It takes me a moment to believe Manuel, but no further bragging or joke comes along. “What the fuck are you doing? You’re gay.”
Manuel shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, mostly gay, but I ran out of hot twinks around post to screw. Got bored. Thought I’d experiment and find out what pussy tastes like. Not too bad, didn’t even need to add hot sauce.”
Manuel’s crude and disrespectful joke falls flat. I don’t even look at him and my lack of reaction cuts right to the quick of his ego.
“Anyway, that thing with Tillman’s wife was a one-off. It won’t happen again. I’ll go back to the hot twinks.”
