Whatever had Six on edge had caused a ripple effect throughout the base. The levity that was usually maintained before an op was no longer present, replaced with a dull, throbbing concern that each member of Rainbow kept within their chest. When Baker had made the announcement, those who were to be deployed felt as if their hearts turned to stone, and dropped to their guts. Urgent operations were often the least preppared, so the operators doubled their training efforts. The gym was never empty, the firing range never quiet, and the simulations running from dawn until dusk. They worked themselves dry, but within their limits. It would hardly do to be too exhausted to lift your shield to battle.
Elias sighed as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel, finally admitting to himself that he should probably eat. The water bottle he brough with him could only do so much to supply him with nutrition, he mused. It was nearly the end of the supper serving schedule, so he'd have to leave without showering. He wasn't that sweaty anyways.
The speed at which he sent himself down the halls served his body well, seemingly drying him out a bit more than the towel could, and before he knew it he was at the mess hall ready to collect his portion of the slop.
Of course, the food was far better than anyone was willing to admit, as they were the elite, but it always felt as though the only proper thing to taste while in the presence of comrades in arms was that of bland, barely palatable mush.
Today's menu consisted of some kind of beef stew and large slices of bread. None of that basic grocery loaf though, one of those nice baguette style buns. Elias was quite a fan of those, although the GIGN had informed him that there were far better buns in their homeland. Perhaps he could steal himself a trip to France with Gilles some day and confirm it.
Regardless, he took the meal and found himself a seat among the remaining operators, the slow eaters. Seamus, Tina, Marius, and Jack. An unlikely group, but seemingly all of the same, business-like mindset. Marius was the first to greet him.
"Elias! I see you hav- GUD GOT MAN! VHAT IS ZHAT SMELL?!"
Instantly, the others caught the same draft he had and their eyes widened. There was no doubt of where it had come from, and for the first time in a while, Elias was embarassed. Great.
"Christ alive, you d'int het the showeh, didye?" Seamus shook his head.
"I'm just... Uh... Gonna go eat... Elsevhere..."
With that, Elias picked up his tray and found himself seating across the hall, his face reddening the whole time. He reminded himself to never work out for nearly three hours without taking a shower again.
The range was filled with a constant barrage of high-powered, ear piercing, 7.62x50mm thunder as Timur unloaded his OTS-03 with deadly precision. Top notch aim was why he was the team's designated sniper, but he needed to keep that finely sharpened tool of his from dulling in the slightest. He could tell when his aim was off ever so slightly, and today was one of those days. He needed to fire until he got it right. Currently he estimated that his shots were roughly two milimeters to the left of his mark. He took a moment to readjust his sights and fill his lungs with fresh air before beginning again.
"I should stop spending so much time drawing." He coldly stated to himself, lining up another seven shots to empty his magazine.
He put the rifle down and brought the target towards him to inspect the damage he had inflicted. The groupings were pretty consistent, very few had just barely reached the edges of the center circle, while the rest remained quite comfortably near dead center.
It was impressive work, especially considering the amount of sleep he had. But it was not his best, and he strived to make it better.
"Yuo know, it is not end of world to take a nap Glazkov."
Timur turned to find Alexsandr standing behind him, arms crossed, staring at the target. The no-nonsense man would be hard to convince.
"I cannot sleep until I am doing well."
"Doing well? You've been in here for three hours. Go rest."
"I will not."
The conversation was deeply boring to Alex, and given his nature Timur figured he'd either yell or throw him into bed forcefully. However, the old man did neither, and instead played his ace.
"I will show Emma your secret."
There it was. There was that special Russian comraderie that he had come to expect from his brothers. Sighing heavily, Timur finished unloading his rifle and hoisted it up to put into his rifle locker.
"You are a cold man, Alexsandr."
"And yuo are a soft one."
Timur shook his head as he left the range, put his rifle away, and headed back to his bed. He would never admit it, but sleep was just what he needed right now.
Much lighter chapter, although don't you worry your pretty little faces, this story will start picking up the darker tones soon enough. Just you wait, once I've got you all understanding the relationships between the ops, you'll see why I made these few chapters light. BECAUSE YOU'LL MISS THESE ONES. YOU'LL MISS EM' A LOT.