Rainbow Introspection
He felt a sharp pain in his chest, his body taken aback a few centimeters. Eyes widened, the grip for his carbine was lost. The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the room.
What... just happened?
A pair of gloved hands clutched the wound on his chest. It felt like a lump of cold steel has suddenly pierced through his skin. He was shocked at the immediate turn of events. Come on Streicher, get to cover, he thought. But it was easier said than done. Rather than jumping to the adjacent turned table beside him, he fell to his knees, still clutching his chest.
As soon as his knees hit the metallic floor, the outskirts of his field of view darkened unexpectedly. What went wrong? What did I do wrong? Every second, some form of buzzing question entered his nauseous mind. There was a sense of urgency, but not a sense of emergency. Maybe it was wrong to lose hope, but as soon as his face hit the cold floor, and his eyelids instantly got heavier, maybe it wasn't a bad thing after all.
He exhaled for the last time.
"Simulation complete," a computerized voice proclaimed.
Streicher laid on the ground, taking in a lot of air. He took off his head-mounted display that enveloped his vision. The transition from a computerized environment to the plastic reality of the training grounds made him blink a few times. He caught a glimpse of a person throwing her plastic gun away.
"Nein, nein! She was there all along!" He could've sworn that something was lurking beneath the shadows of that room. Overconfidence might've got the best of him, but he wasn't quick to blame himself.
For the first time in a while, a lost gunfight made his blood boil. Although he would gladly accept being shot by his comrades in training, there was an exception. An exception for his long-running competition- and that was one of the Bosak sisters. Streicher would not admit it, nor would ever think of it, that a certain green-haired woman could get in his nerves.
But there were bigger problems to worry about, so his feelings weren't proclaimed well- and he wanted it to stay that way.
Maxim, seeing Streicher on the ground, helped him up to stand. "Way to lose us the match," he said.
"I didn't know she vas there!" the German retorted.
"Sure you didn't," Maxim started, "even though she stood out in dark. She wore white."
Streicher sighed. "I got zistracted."
"I want the Russians up tomorrow by 0500. The rest, don't horse around while we're gone. I want no one tinkering with the VR Training Grounds without my permission. It's still a prototype from the Government. Any questions?"
The question was met with silence among the dimly-lit courtyard.
"Dismissed."
Mike Baker's raspy voice echoed for the last time, and everyone that participated in training parted in their own ways- that is, to the barracks or somewhere more secluded to train even more.
Today's training was different from the usual. Often Mike assigned certain operators to take part in training as either defenders or attackers. But this time, they were pitted against one another regardless of the assigned roles. The suggestion was made when some operators lost their sparkle when being offensive or defensive. A welcome change for everyone. And when Ela was pitted against her competition for the first time, it was a nice experience.
With a certain Navy Seal walking away from the courtyard, Ela followed.
"Meghan!" the green haired Polish girl exclaimed, catching up to her friend, "going swimming?"
The blonde smiled. "No, I'm done for the day. You?"
"I'm going to the gun range. I was hoping you'll accompany me there."
"Gun range?" Meghan laughed, wiping a non-existent tear off her eyes. "It's midnight, girl. Unless you want an angry Mike Baker to interrupt you, I wouldn't push my luck."
"Silencers, Meg, and I don't think anyone would hear it even if I don't equip one."
"Why would you even want to go to the gun range, of all things? Join Eliza with her foot races. Or maybe join Cowden in weight lifting." she suggested, puzzled.
"Did you see what I did earlier?" Ela asked. "I took down Jäger. If I could do that, I might as well practice my aim more to make sure it wan't just pure luck."
The blonde could only smile sweetly with tired eyes. "Go to sleep."
Two shots in the torso, a couple more in the head. Burst fire mode wasn't too bad. Semi-auto isn't too, but to Jäger, it was enough tinkering for the day. Automatic fire was best suited for his aggressiveness, other options would just limit him.
The bullet-ridden target was mechanically lowered to reveal another fresh target but much more distant. It was time to put his skills to the test. Streicher set his rifle to automatic fire. This is it. If he could hold down the punishing recoil of his carbine, and make sure that all the bullets would hit the target, then it was enough training for the night.
He held his breath, then softly pulled the trigger.
Several seconds went by, and all the bullets in his magazine were ejected towards the target. Hopefully, not one bullet would go off target. Squinting, he didn't get to count all the bullets from a distance. So he ran towards the paper target, eager to see the results.
"One, two, three..." Streicher mumbled. "...eighteen, nineteen- shit."
He scratched his head. Maybe he should practice more tomorrow, get some shuteye, and forget what happened in training earlier. That incident was carved in his mind. Was it my fault that I got shot by the Polish girl? Why am I overthinking?
Ela was recently crowned as the most aggressive operator in training, by Mike Baker himself. Streicher was now second place. It was all the more reason to start doing something and earn back that title. Defeated, he could only sigh. He does not hate her, he knew that, but he sure do see her as an admirable yet frustrating competition. Maybe he shouldn't even worry about competition. He was recruited by Rainbow to kill terrorists, not beat his comrades in training. Sighing again he-
TAKATAKATAKA!
He dove to the ground, as a flurry of gunshots went off beside him. He started to cover his face with his arms, then the firing stopped.
"Don't worry!" a female voice shouted, "I'm a good shot!"
Seeing Streicher dive down for cover as she fired at the paper target beside him was a funny sight. He did not expect that at all, she thought.
"YOU ALMOST SHOT ME DUMMKOPF!" the German shouted.
Ela laughed. "My shots didn't even land near you!" she shouted back with a hint of amusement in her voice.
Streicher walked parallel to her direction, his carbine in one hand, and a clenched fist in the other. Going to his spot on the shooting range, he rubbed his eyes with frustration. Ela shifted her gaze away from him and into her paper target. She fired approximately twenty shots at her target before stopping again.
"Quite the lonesome here." she broke the ice.
"I prefer it zhat way." Streicher replied in an instant. "Especially vhen a crazy woman almost pumped a ton of lead in my chest."
"Excuse me, my target wasn't you."
Reloading her gun, she added, "And like I said, my shots didn't even land near you."
"But you scared the Scheisse out of me!" Streicher retorted.
"That was the best part."
Ela resumed her firing. Streicher soon inserted another magazine to his carbine- the legendary 416-C. She heard the stories of his gun, and to say it was fascinating was an understatement. Meghan would tell her about Operation Iron Cross, where Jäger shot and killed most of the terrorists about to enter the building with that carbine. Porter would sometimes say that Streicher ended a round in simulated training in less than ten seconds, for he picked off the attackers while they blindly ran to the building. That was how good the carbine was. And it was still good even today.
What was fascinating wasn't how the gun worked, but how the gun was handled by Streicher. The gun would kick like a horse. She tried it for herself. Though she was accustomed to that recoil, it wasn't too reliable at long range. But seeing the German literally snipe with a carbine- that was amazing.
So, seeing him worked up in the shooting range was incredulous.
"What are you doing in the gun range?" Ela questioned curiously.
"Practicing my recoil control." the German replied sternly, lowering his gun.
"Why?"
"Because I need to improve."
"Is there even a need?"
Streicher glared at her. "Ja. Of course there is. My performance was in ze training earlier vas bad."
"Because I killed you?"
Streicher glared at her, much more furious than before. It looked like he doesn't want to be reminded of that incident again. "Yes."
"I don't think your recoil is your shortcoming." Ela stated.
"I entered zhat room so I could engage Eliza in a shorter distance. I tried to shoot her in a longer range in the hallway but my recoil went all over ze place, so I decided to took ze easy route instead, and maybe flank her."
The Polish girl nodded. "...but you didn't see me hiding behind box."
"Yes. You're right."
"You need to be more aware of your surroundings. Don't get cocky, yes? Try to plan out your engagement. But don't take too long doing so." Ela explained wholeheartedly, smiling.
Streicher resumed firing at the distant target, his face more focused than ever. Without the rapid repetition of gunshots, there would be utter silence between the two. The two were thankful that wasn't the case.
"How's Elias? When will he come back?" Ela continued right along, "I heard about the thing in Moscow."
"Oh, don't vorry about him. He's coming back later zhis month." he added, "Doc, however, is not coming zhis month."
"Uh huh. Too busy in Mexico." she said, "Hope they don't get in trouble with some hardcore cartel or something."
"Bandit is there too. If there's anyone who's good vith cartels or groups, it's him."
"I know. Monika told me all about him and Elias. She did not tell me about you though," she teased, "not one word."
Streicher stopped firing his carbine. "Really? Zhat little..."
"Actually, she did told me something." Ela continued.
"It better not be 2008." Streicher gave a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "Is it?"
"It's all about 2008. Every detail. The way you gave her flowers, the way you tried to kiss-"
"Stop, please!" he pleaded.
Ela laughed genuinely. "And don't get me started when you first joined Team Rainbow."
"Stop already, please!" he pleaded once more. "How could she tell all that?"
"How are you two doing?"
"Ve don't talk anymore," Streicher somberly said, "Don't know why, but I don't want to bother her anymore."
"You know you still got a chance with her, right?"
"How would you know, exactly?" the German asked curiously.
"She misses you."
"I don't believe you."
"I have all the proof, actually." Ela smirked.
"Then tell me."
"One condition."
"Vhat?" sounding impatient, Streicher put down his carbine and stopped shooting. He looked at the Polish girl beside her with hope.
"Me versus you. VR Training. If I win, you get to talk to her without my proof. If you win, however, I will spill the beans and then some. I'll also help you with her."
"Zhat's a bad deal, to be honest," Streicher retorted, sighing. There was a pause. It was time to prove himself. "You know what? Sure."
"Good. Let's go."
"What about Mike? He said earlier he doesn't want anyone to go in VR Training?" Streicher asked with concern.
"Just make it quick. Plus, he's fast asleep."
He poked his head around the corner to see an empty hallway. Good. With his sneakers, he quietly began to cross the hallway. He made sure the floors he stepped on wasn't littered with broken glass or random debris, so every step would be as quiet as everything else in the building. All he needed was a teammate to scout ahead of his path, but it was only him and the enemy. It was a great challenge, and he wanted to win it.
The German rounded up the corner of a medium-sized room, only to find out dust and empty space. The first floor was clear of enemy combatants. Now it was time for the second floor. His nose flared.
There wasn't any sound at all. Either his opponent was playing nice and quiet but all around the place or just staying still, waiting him to round the corner to pump his chest full of bullets. With that in mind, extra carefulness was essential to him. All that was necessary to win was a small mistake from the enemy, but so far nothing has come up yet. But he knew that it's about time something will happen.
The building stanks with bleach. Pristine white walls reflected what's in front of them, and knowing that even the smallest of details can be scrutinized as a threat, he moved to the adjacent room of mahogany walls. To his surprise, no one was there at all, still. He is getting far more impatient for every second that ticks.
Room after room, he searched for his opponent with vigilance. Then he laid eyes on a particular room. Painted in yellow and white, he quickly entered the room, finger on the trigger.
Table. Television. Radio. Chair. Bed. Clock.
No one was there. He exited the room, and across the hallway was a closed door and a sign that says "Janitor Room". He smirked. If the opponent wasn't there, he swore he will kick a cat.
"Don't get cocky, yes? Try to plan out your engagement. But don't take too long doing so."
Those words echoed through his mind. Let's not enter this room like a dumb person, he thought. Then an idea popped in his head. If he could suppress the enemy...
He fired multiple shots at the door, and a groan was heard. He heard an explosion. Did his enemy die? No he didn't, if he did the round would be over. But he knew he was hurt. Firing half a magazine at the door again, he quickly burst in.
There he saw her, on the ground. Blood dripped down her mouth, as she clutched her stomach for the wound. A smirk couldn't creep up to his face, even though he was triumphant. But before he pulled the trigger once and for all...
SIMULATION TERMINATED
"WOT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU TWO DOIN' ERE?"