Foreign Territory (Active Duty #2)

Twists and Turns

Six months previous...

"Where the fuck have you two been?"

Robin shut the door to the communal bunk, Jason marching in first, and laid eyes on Lindon perched up on his bunk flicking through a magazine with only the hazy bulb from the bedside lamp. The rest of the room was in darkness as the others from the troop slept. Robin squinted, cocking his head to see what Lindon was reading. He doubted Lindon could decipher the foreign words, so he was clearly just looking at the pictures. And by the image on the front, the written articles weren't really the reason anyone would be buying it for anyway.

"On a recce, Private," Jason barked, slamming his tactical vest on the single bed in the corner of the room.

"You take Underwood on all your recces now?"

"You get better with a rifle, I'll take you."

Lindon tutted and flipped to the next page. Robin couldn't prevent the slight curve on his lips or the brief eye contact he gave Jason across the room. Jason immediately turned his back. How that man managed to slip effortlessly from the gentle puppy dog of earlier to the hard arse Sergeant he now displayed was a marvel. And, he hated to admit, a complete turn on. He had still yet to decide which personality drew Robin more in. Brushing the thoughts to the back of his mind, he stripped out of his tactical wear, down to his khaki's and T-shirt.

They were bunked up in a derelict hotel, all six of their troop, whilst they awaited further instructions from the base camp. So far, all they knew was they'd been sent to offer support to the local law enforcement and act as a visual deterrent to any incoming threat. Obviously there must have been some threat, but so far all had been peaceful. Mostly the troop of six infantry soldiers, lead by Sergeant Jason Williams, sat around or paced the streets in twos on a twenty-four hour rota basis. No action, no unrest, no real threats. Not a bullet had been fired or an argument broken up. Bouncers in nightclubs got more action. Eighty percent of infantry missions was clearly learning how to overcome tedium.

Robin flopped down on his single bunk, rested his hands behind his head and stared up at the peeling paint on the ceiling. He smiled.

"What you so happy about?" Lindon slammed his magazine shut, flipped his legs off his single bed and leaned into Robin. "Like being bored off your tits, do ya?"

Robin shrugged and begged his face not to give him away.

Jason, the other end of the room, cleared his throat and checked through his comms device probably for any orders from base. His shoulders stiffened, but no barking commands followed, so Robin took that to mean get your game face back on soldier. The sweet nothings uttered from earlier during their fumble between the sheets was clearly over and Robin swayed toward having a preferable side to Jason's multiple personality traits.

"We found a whore house." Robin decided at least some honesty would help keep the lies in check.

"No fucking way!" Lindon cackled. "Did you two get some? That is so unfair."

Jason swivelled around, throwing his device to the thin mattress and set his steely gaze on Lindon. "Like I said, you get better with your rifle, you can come along next time."

"Rifle?" Lindon nodded to his SA80 stacked against his bed, then thrust his groin. "Or rifle?"

Robin snorted, shaking his head against the paper-thin pillow.

"There's only one of those you can practice on when in my presence." Jason pointed a warning finger, then collapsed onto his bed and ruffled the scratchy grey blanket over him. Twisting onto his side, he yawned. "Any of you wankers wake me up they'll be hell to pay."