Radioman (A 2/19th Spinoff) - Complete

Fertile Ground

Like most of Atlas or those who were still in the barracks that had once been part of "Echo Five Actual", I roomed alone or at least with someone who had been part of all of it. I was alone, my last room mate having killed himself when he found out his girlfriend back home had been cheating on him.

I don't know what he expected.

My room was at least warm and dry, with something that Atlas lacked, something I had nearly forgotten about.

Privacy.

It hit the switch, turning on the light of the main room, and shambled into the room. I'd left the heater on, the radiator putting out a gentle heat even while I was gone. I had a few posters on the wall, and to be honest, I was surprised nobody had robbed my room.

I dropped the two dufflebags I was carrying, then shouldered out of my ruck, LBE and Kevlar, then stood in the room for a long moment, just feeling all that weight off of me. For the last several months I had at least worn body armor and usually had either a PRC-77 or my ruck on my back. My rifle and pistol at least had been turned into the armory, so that was one less thing I had to worry about.

The last few months had been exhausting to say the least.

Atlas had exploded and tried to take all of us with her. Then Chernobyl. Then everything else.

I just stood in the main part of my room, breathing slowly. I could feel Atlas slowly pouring off me. I slowly stripped off my uniform until I was standing naked except for my socks in the middle of the room.

My dogtags jingled as I moved into the bathroom, reaching in and turning on the hot water. I stared at my face for a long moment.

Stress had aged me beyond my eighteen years. I had gray hair at my temples, lines in my face, and the scarring around my left eye. Scars on my chest too. I didn't remember consciously decided to grow a mustache, but apparently I had. It was more so that I didn't have to bother cold-shaving my upper lip and slicing it off. I mean, yeah, Bomber didn't mind cold water when he shaved, and that psycho Stillwater dry shaved, but that doesn't mean I had to like it.

Huh, I'd grown more chest hair out at Atlas. I hadn't noticed. It looked weird.

Ya know, I hadn't really looked at myself since I'd left Kansas.

The man staring at me was one I hardly recognized. I'd put on more muscle but somehow looked leaner. The scars around my eye from where they'd put in that plate to replace my lower eye socket.

I sighed, adjusted the water, and shaved.

I decided to keep the mustache.

The water was hot, and the water pressure felt good against my muscles. Goddamn I was sore. It had been months since the blast but my ribs and shoulders still ached on days like today. Stokes' morning close quarters combat drills didn't help. The big Amazon had man-handled me pretty hard, dropped me pretty good into the sand-pit we used.

My reaction to washing off in the warm water surprised me. I mean, I hadn't really thought about it, hadn't really had that kind of reaction to anything since I'd left Kansas. Cromwell had asked me about it when she'd done our comprehensive medical checks, but she'd assured me that high amounts of physical and emotional stress could have that reaction.

Maybe it was because I was starting to relax that I had the first non-morning erection I could remember.

I kind of stood there and stared at it. The water hitting my chest and head while I looked down at it. To be honest, it looked kind of weird. I mean, it looked... different somehow. Maybe because I was older? I mean, would there be that much difference between now and a year and a half ago?