Isolated (Red vs Blue)

8: Adjustments

8: Adjustments

Present Day: Somewhere on the Edge of Colonized Space

Trying to get Tucker and Caboose to stick to any form of routine was proving to be a real challenge. When Washington had taken over leadership of the team, he hadn't realized just how undisciplined the two soldiers really were. It had become painfully obvious very quickly that they hadn't really done any serious training since basics. The team seemed to resent the former freelancer for implimenting required daily training and workout sessions — though it was really only Tucker who seemed to be irritated. Caboose didn't seem particularly bother by it; then again, it seemed like a lot of things didn't really bother him. Except for one thing. . . .

Wash took a deep breath as he crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall of their makeshift base. Tucker was currently working through his assigned one hundred squats, while Caboose was nowhere to be found. In fact, now that he thought about it, Wash hadn't really seen the other Blue soldier all day. He'd been at roll call, but had been pretty quiet during breakfast, then he'd gone to look at himself in the mirror. And now that the day's workout had started, Caboose was nowhere to be found. Today must not be a good day.

"Sixty-four! Sixty-five! Sixty-six! Sixty-seven! Sixty-eight! Sixty-nine. . . ." Tucker trailed off in the counting of his squats and stay crouched. "Shit."

Washington sighed. "Tucker, we've been over this. You can't just keep stopping at sixty-nine all the time."

The aqua clad soldier looked at him. "I didn't do it on purpose! My legs actually gave out this time."

The former freelancer just shook his head as he walked over to the other soldier and held out a hand. "C'mon, let's get you up."

Tucker took his hand and stood up, groaning as he righted himself. "Ohhh, holy fucking shit! I don't think I've been this sore from anything since that bachelorette party on Bourbon Street."

"You seriously want me to believe that you banged an entire bachelorette party?" Wash asked skeptically.

"See, I want you to. But in all reality, the groom showed up and ended up cracking three of my ribs," Tucker admitted. "It was a pretty miserable night."

"Exactly what I thought," Wash said.

"Hey, I did have a question for you though. Why are you making us train so much? We never had to do squats or anything when Church was in charge."

"And that's why we're doing all of this. I wanna say you and Caboose have fallen a little out of shape — but generally speaking, in order to fall out of something, you have to be in it first."

"Hey, that's really funny! I think you should try comedy, Wash. Because why only make one person miserable when you can work over an entire room all at once?"

"All right! I think it's time for sprints!" Wash announced.

"Oh, fuck you!" Tucker spat.

"I wanna see five laps around the canyon. Now get moving," Wash ordered.

"Go die in a fire," Tucker countered sourly.

Washington crossed his arms as he looked at the other soldier. "And now it's six laps around the canyon!"

Tucker just looked at him, staying defiantly in place. "Hey! Why the hell isn't Caboose down here having to do exercises? Shouldn't you be making him do some dumbbell rolls, or like some inverted push-ups, or something along those lines?"

"I would, but I think he's having one of his . . . off days."

"Oh . . . Damn."

"Yeah. So while you're running your laps, I think I'm gonna go check on him."