.
Chul Kyung "Vigil" Hwa
...
Late night in Herefordshire.
A queue had already formed up by the counter. The barman, wearing a friendly smile, handed out drinks to the nearest in line. Patrons either sat on propped up stools or stood around high tables, all gripping icy-cold mugs of their favorite booze. Chatter filled the air, practically drowning out the soft jam in the jukebox. While most enjoyed the libations, others took the chance to dance the night away, getting them a few stares from some of the locals. They seemed like tourists acting like they were still in London, blissfully unaware of 'house rules' in the pub. 'Pub', not 'bar', as Old Man Baker pointed out at the Base a few hours ago. At this point, Chul Kyung Hwa was definitely out of his comfort zone.
Alas, things could've been worse. Tonight was not some mandatory binge party like the ones he avoided back home. He only went here because someone had to watch over Grace, who insisted on tagging along with the rest of the gang. Technically, he could leave once the damn hellion had had her fill. Considering her alcohol tolerance, it was only a matter of time.
"Hey Chalky!", Craig Jenson called out, fresh from the queue, cradling almost a dozen mugs.
"..."
"Take your beer off me, will ya? My hands are gettin' slippery."
The other man let his narrowed eyes do the talking. 'My name is not Chalky!', was what he wanted to blurt out, but that would only be a pointless rebuttal. The smiling Yank had known him long enough to earn the right of calling him stupid nicknames. It was the same dynamic they had in Afghanistan, and it was natural for him to bring that here, in England.
Craig, wearing an open jacket and a beige field cap, looked like was just about to tip over from all the drinks he was holding. Sighing to himself, Chul Kyung strode to the man's side and lent him a hand to prevent an embarrassing scene. With one less beer to worry about, Craig then went on his merry way to deliver the rest of the booze; the other members of Team Rainbow were all sitting on a table at the far end of the bar. Well, 'all' might be a tad inaccurate, considering that Grace was not in their midst, and was instead bogeying on the dancefloor and mingling with strangers. Her party wardrobe had her trademark beanie and fake glasses, as usual. She was definitely intoxicated, despite what her sober countenance would suggest. But she was in a 'pub', not a bar. Soon, one the locals would later ask her to behave herself or leave.
Just another proof that inebriation was a universal fact of human existence, regardless of culture or race…
"Oi, mind your eyes mate.", Mark Chandar bumped the Korean man's elbow, snapping him out of the brief trance. "You might stare someone to death."
"Huh?"
"You're eyeballing Miss-Four-Eyes over there. Discretion's supposed to be your strong suit, innit?"
"...Whatever."
The response was a single word, followed by a sip from the cold mug. A marked improvement over his last reply. 'I'm not eyeballing her!', came another thought. But that would only open him to even more teasing, as would any group of people do.
It had only been a couple of months since he and Grace joined the Team. A couple of months since that skirmish in Seoul together with the Polish commandos, which they barely walked away from. Now, it was the same routine, in a different. Day One was predictable: a boy and a girl joining the Team together quickly became the subject of teasing from a few of their new coworkers. They thought that the two Koreans they were... 'close'. As if a more stupid, hormonal drivel was yet invented: another facet of humanity that seemed universal. But for someone purported to be a man of few words, "Mute" seemed to enjoy picking on the stoic White Tiger soldier the most. It might be because he had finally found someone more peculiar than him.
*gulp*
The warm liquid graced Chul Kyung's throat with an unusual taste, causing him to grimace a bit. This was the first time he was drinking a genuine British lager, and not those knock-offs sold in Busan's pochas. Mark, meanwhile, was sitting nearby and holding his own drink: an ice-cold pint of stout judging from its dark hue. After taking a quick gulp, he pulled out a smartphone from his jacket and swiped the screen. It appeared that the kid was reading dossiers on his portable device: the words 'Maverick' and 'Lion' instantly caught curious eyes.
"I don't think you should be doing that here."
Specifically, skimming through the profiles of elite counter-terror operatives while in a public venue. He always did love working on the fly.
"Ugh, I already told you the pub's safe, yeah? The Old Man's scoped this place out for us tonight..."
Such a bold statement, on account of the unadulterated merrymaking happening all around. Undisciplined, the lot of them. Something like this wouldn't fly with the 707th whose strict rules and decorum still applied even after shifts. 'Drinking' was a ritualized group effort. Everyone was expected to share from a single, large bottle, with the oldest person or highest-ranking officer of the troupe pouring shots to the rest. The drink of choice was usually soju, not beer, and each tavern on any given street would quickly claim that they have the best brand. Eye contact and table manners were observed, even when the jokes started making the rounds. And unless they wanted to miss the morning muster, the White Tigers would always leave the joint before the barkeep announced the last call.
The Korean mused to himself, as he was never a fan of clubs and taverns to begin with. But the more he thought about them, the more he realized he was getting homesick again.
"…Just shut your gob and stalk Grace or something.", Mark finished his sentence.
"Tch. Sounds something you'd do."
"Come on, Markie-boy. Leave him alone..." Another voice chimed in.
It was Craig, finally free from the burden of being the designated delivery boy. He walked to them with a confident stride and a mug of beer on hand, wearing a brotherly grin of his own. He propped up a stool by the counter, rudely disturbing Chul Kyung's personal space, before giving him a solid tap on the back. Strong enough to almost spill the guy's drink and quick enough to nearly cause him to snap back in brief rage.
"…He's just making sure that Dokkaebi over there doesn't trip her feet."
"You're telling me he's a gentleman?"
"Sure! He likes to watch his friends' backs. Just wait till ya see him in action…", he patted his friend's shoulder. "…Once we're in the field, you'll be glad he's on our side."
"Cheers to that then… But he's still a creep."
How embarrassing for the Yank to bring up their time in Afghanistan. Or perhaps it was that one incident during their peacekeeping duty in Iraq?
Either way, the teasing was getting stronger, and the urge to leave the pub was not very far behind. Chul Kyung felt that all the laughter and awkward stares were directed at him, threatening to burst his safe bubble. At this point, he wanted to disappear, be somewhere outside and away from the revelry, than to be spending his remaining free time in the pub. Team Rainbow's idea of R-and-R away from Hereford Base was a terrible one, as far as he was concerned. A pub-crawl might be cathartic after the hellish morning drills and the intense training in the afternoon, but it was still a massive waste of time. It was the same thing he didn't like during his service in the Navy. The same thing he loathed about shore leave with the 707th.
He wished he had his mask with him. Or at least something that covered his rough, ascetic face, to hide from this crowd of strange people. He felt like an open book, a naked man in metaphor, thrust into a room of soldier boys and girls that he didn't expect to be working with when he signed up. Alas, luck was not on his side tonight. And so he decided to chug the contents of his mug in short order, eager for an excuse to finally go home. He didn't care about Grace. That is, until he stopped halfway, feeling a slight tang of regret. He realized what an ungrateful bastard, and a bad friend, he had just become.
"Woah, hold your horses big guy.", Craig looked at him accusingly. "What's the hurry, huh?"
"Sorry. I-I…"
"Take it slow. This ain't Busan where the booze flows like water."
The former SEAL had caught wind of his ploy and laughed, right before raising his mug for another chug. The Korean smiled awkwardly, setting his glass down to prevent future temptations to excuse himself. His brain shouted at him in silence, berating him for such poor form. He should be thankful that he had the chance to socialize like this. To be accepted. To be part of a family.
Things could've been worse. Back then… in the 'old country'… he would've been lucky if he had something to eat for breakfast. One jug of cold water would've been a feast, one bedtime free from mosquitoes would've been called 'a good night's rest'. His memories from that time were… muddled at best, probably for the better. He no longer had to worry about starvation or destitution; he now had enough vigor in him to complain about mundane things. He already had a new name and a new life. He should be more thankful. And it was here that he realized that silence befell their space, thanks to his awkwardness. He needed to fix it, still ever mindful of his body language.
"Craig.", he broke the ice while staring at the half-full glass. "How did you get used to all of this?"
"Eh?"
"This… place. The sounds, scenery. Everything."
The bearded man was puzzled by his choice of small words. Then he burst out in brief laughter, shaking his head all the way. Long-term familiarity with the White Tiger commando's quirks was quite evident.
"Ha! You'll fit right in brother; don't worry!"
"You sure about that?"
"Of course! Rainbow's like our old outfit in Gardez, but with more weirdos and prima donnas..."
"Hm. On that we can agree Jenson.", Mark commented.
"I was actually referring to you too."
"Piss off. This creep over here ogles the girls, yet I am the weird one?"
The three men burst out laughing, briefly, then chugged their drinks again. Of course, the one who had his mug barely half-full was the first to empty it. Craig immediately noticed it and asked the barman to give him another round. Chul Kyung couldn't find it in him to protest, but the British lad insisted that he take the fresh pint. Pub customs and all.
It wasn't so bad after all. From orphan, to citizen, to sailor, to White Tiger, the man known to the world as 'Chul Kyung Hwa'. There was once a point in his life when he thought he was done for. A waste of skin. All the suffering and lost he endured from… back when, they all should've been enough to kill his taste for life. He never even thought he'd live long enough to enjoy a mug of beer in England. Now, he had more than what he ever bargained for. A new lease in life. A new identity, a new purpose. And a high-paying job as well, at least for a soldier of his caliber.
Once again, he scanned the room for Grace Nam, the skunk-striped hellion of the 707th. She was still in her same spot, only a few meters away, dancing with fervor and cheered on by some of the bar goers. The girl seemed really into the upbeat music from the pub's music box; her eyes were closed and she swayed her hips with no care in the world. Always a rebel. Her antic was enough to elicit a smile on her fellow countryman. He was always impressed by her tenacity to defy all expectations. To act on her own volition, with no regret. He always envied that quality of hers…
...
"Is that normal?", Mark also looked on. "Her wiggling her arse like that."
"With enough beers, yes."
Suddenly, Mark turned to him with an impish grin. It was totally out of character from the straight-laced Operator.
"Alright, now I'm curious. Is there really anything between you two?"
"Huh?", he raised an eyebrow, slowly processing what the lad was yammering about.
"Oh come on, you know what I mean."
"...No. Nothing like that."
A reply given with a stoic face, but the young man was having none of it. Craig, frustratingly, also joined in the joke and pointed to his own eye. 'See how he looks at her!' he seemed to say. A sure fire way to spot a would-be stalker or an unrequited paramour. This time, the Korean stood his ground and refused to make a fool of himself. He looked away from them, unflinching, until they slowly devolved into a barrel of laughs. If the bar's patrons weren't so pre-occupied, they would all be giving them a strange look as well.
Indeed, things could've been worse.
"You idiots are just wasting your time."
"Hahah! Come on Chalky, lighten the heck up will ya?"
"Easy for you to say...", said the stern man, mildly annoyed at the stupid nickname yet again. "…Director Six expects a lot from me and Grace… I hope I can do my job well. Make my country proud. I'd rather control myself than compromise my chances of achieving that."
And there was a lot on the table for him, that much was certain. Electronic countermeasures, infiltration-and-extraction, target interdiction. And it had only been a few months since White Noise, his brief brush with death in Seoul. The list of roles that Team Rainbow expected him from him was quite long. A huge responsibility rested on his shoulders, on top of the one he gave to himself for the sake of one woman. It was daunting, to say the least, but it was nothing he had not done before. At least for that, he could have full confidence on himself.
"Good grief...", Mark continued to laugh. "…That's the longest sentence I've ever heard from you, mate."
"Whatever."
The teasing was getting to his nerves, but he knew it was just a ploy to get him to react. He couldn't wait for this night to end. But at the same time, he found himself enjoying it. And so he took one more sip of his beer…
He still had Grace on his sights. As she danced on like there was no tomorrow, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and clutched her stomach. Her eyes went wide and she had one hand covering her mouth. Her body was bent over, heaving. A few of the patrons noticed that she looked sick and asked her if she was alright. Without missing a beat, Chul Kyung set his glass aside and rushed to reach her. She was barely able to get her bearings, as if she was completely smashed, while she struggled to keep herself from hurling chunks. The two of them made haste to the bathroom, which was so eagerly pointed by the friendly barman.
…
...
Late night in Hereford. For the locals, happy hour had just barely started. But for one woman, it was just about time to head on home. She wobbled woozily, struggling to get her bearings. Lucky for her, her fellow White Tiger was quite eager to lend her a hand. Or a shoulder, in this case. People didn't pay them heed as they walked beside the street; drunks were probably a normal sight in this side of England. This was the price she had to pay for her behavior.
Like Craig said, the man could be counted on to watch his friends' backs.
"*burp* Chul Kyung...?", Grace mumbled.
"Jinjeonghae (Take it easy).", he replied. It was a relief to hear a proper rendition of his name for once. "I told you the beers are stronger here."
Mindful of his friend's state, he tugged her close, knowing she might tumble flat on her face and break her chic glasses at any given moment. Someone taking a picture of them would mistake one for the other's lover. Such a stupid. Would've made for a magnificent story back at the Base too, if only he had it in his heart to sully her reputation. Oddly enough, he felt at ease with his his place in the grand scheme of things. He might be a foreigner thrust along a strange group of people, but he was satisfied to be their designated-guardian. Their vigilant watcher.
It was only a few more steps until they reached the taxi stop outside of the pub. Grace, still wobbly and woozy, wanted to break free from her friend's grasp and hail a cab herself. Chul Kyung quickly kept her in check; he kept a firm hand on her shoulder, dissuading her to do as she pleased.
"Na noh meewo (I hate you).", she hissed.
Ani-eyo, 'You're welcome', was the response that his brain wanted him to utter. But seeing her totally wasted was more than enough to bring him brief satisfaction. And so, he smiled to no one in particular, letting his upturned grin do the talking. Tonight was not quite a bad night, all things considered. N
...
Author's Comments/Notes: This segment is heavily inspired by a Rainbow Six short comic I encountered at Art Station. It had no dialogue, at least as far as I know, so I created a whole new story out of it (I also took the characters and the setting). Vigil came across to me was that of an aloof brother looking out for his little sister; perhaps that's the reason behind his nickname?
Anyway, on to the next Operator: Pulse!