.
Shuhrat "Fuze" Kessikbayev
The first time Shuhrat heard about 'Fort Bragg, North Carolina' was in a meeting he had with a senior GRU officer. It happened a few years ago, on a cold snowy day at Number 3, Grizodubovoy Street with the rest of his platoon. At the time, the foreign intelligence service had a lot of sensitive matters to discuss with the Russian Army's elite. Needless to say, the words spoken in that muffled room are still fresh in his mind. And now, to be standing on American soil, to be enjoying some American hospitality, he can't help but feel... out of place.
"...And your new office is just on the next building.", the quartermaster pointed. "Follow me, please."
Shuhrat, Marius, and Alex are being treated to a guided, afternoon tour of Pope Field: an Army airbase just a few kilometers north of Fort Bragg. Per arrangements made with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Pope Field will serve as Rainbow's primary staging area for its helicopters, weapons, and equipment in this part of the world. The tour has been going on for half an hour now, meeting random faces, opening random doors, under the close watch of a few military policemen. The VIP treatment felt a little bit undeserved, but it was definitely better than the dour welcome the SAS gave them many months ago. Wearing the team's distinctive black battledress and hoisting duffel bags over their shoulders, the three foreigners stuck out like a sore thumb to the men and women donning Army greens.
None of this mattered to the grumpy Uzbek, unsurprisingly. After enduring a sixteen-hour journey, he wasn't in a mood to do some sightseeing. There wasn't even time to get some shuteye after the long flight, but Seamus ordered his tech and weapons experts to inspect Rainbow's new facilities anyway. Shuhrat was very close to confronting the bald Scotsman, his boss no less, and giving him a piece of his mind, but he relented. Sometimes he wonders why he signed up for this outfit in the first place, considering how often they're overworked and sleep-deprived. In a different world, this would not be the case.
"Hey." Marius called to him. "...Are you still with us?"
The German noticed the frown in the fair-skinned fellow's face. Not only did he look exhausted, he was also deathly quiet. Grumpier than usual, in other words.
"Hmph. Yes I am, unfortunately..."
Marius simply snorted and shook his head at the younger man's bitter response. Even after months of working together, the two tinkerers still don't see eye to eye. Mutual vitriol is perhaps the best thing they can hope for until they grow out of their snobbery and insufferableness.
But things could've been much worse. Shuhrat has a lot to thank for because Rainbow has been a mostly positive experience for him so far. Nobody treated the gruff and moody craftsman from Samarkand any more different than the men and women in the team. For all its faults, this job is a massive improvement over his first experience meeting foreigners, which was when he and his family left for Russia. What was meant to be a promising search for greener pastures instead turned into a time of difficulty, mired by discrimination and red tape. After that, he never thought he'd want to visit another country again.
And yet, here he is.
Not a moment later, the tour finally arrived at its destination, guarded by a large metal door. The quartermaster, wasting no time, placed his keycard onto the scanner, which then rang with an audible beeping. Immediately after, the large door slowly opened and revealed its prize: a machine shop-turned weapons facility tucked into one of Pope Field's massive aircraft hangars. Inside the bright, spacious building is a Blackhawk helicopter draped in a purple sheet- the first thing that caught Marius's attention. At the far end of the room is a large cubicle, containing all sorts of workbenches, storage lockers, fabricators, and other machinery leased to the team. The air inside has a faint, plastic-y aroma: presumably from the chemical retardant underlays installed in the ceiling.
Judging by the awe strewn in the trio's faces, the Americans delivered on their promise.
"…And this is the armory.", the quartermaster proudly presented. "Everything here is yours to play with. Within reason, of course."
"What about our weapons?" Marius asked, subtly claiming his place as de facto leader of this little entourage. He noticed that the gun racks were empty.
"They'll be delivered here within the day. Just need to sort things out with the boys at Logistics."
"Okay. Danke."
"Right. Here are your keycards. Give me a holler if you need anything else."
With that, the man with the chevrons on his sleeve turned around and left the group, followed by the MPs. Shuhrat took a moment for himself and scanned his new surroundings, digesting every little detail in his mind as he set his bag on top of a random desk. Taking the layout, the size, and the equipment into account, he quickly realized that the entire set-up of the place was not that all different from the one he used in Hereford, only much larger. Therefore, adjusting to this environment will not be as hard as he thought it will be. However, a part of him also noted that he's standing on a treasure throve of top secret military information, the likes of which the GRU will gladly kill to get their hands on.
For starters, this building alone has everything that the old GRU reports speculated about Pope Field: electronic security, blast resistant doors, NBC shielding. By the looks of it, the concrete walls of its hangars are at least one meter thick- too much depth for the Matryoshka charges to bore through. In a hypothetical, and extremely unlikely, scenario that the GRU orders an assault to take this airbase, the Spetsnaz must bring a lot of explosives with them. And perhaps a lot of tanks as well.
Then there's the entirety of Fort Bragg to consider: the place is absolutely huge. A sprawling military complex of smaller bases, facilities, and communities covering more than a hundred thousand acres. The atmosphere here is much more relaxed than the SAS base in Hereford, which is a bit strange considering Fort Bragg's strategic importance. Hell, it's not unusual to find an Army office and a shopping center on the same street. Little wonder, then, why the Deputy Director chose this place as Rainbow's other base of operations.
Shuhrat can't believe he still muses about this covert ops stuff, as if he was still in the GRU's payroll. Today's trip was long and tiring; he needed to focus, lest a nearby couch would succeed in tempting him to sleep. First things first: the inventory check. His next steps has him heading towards the nearest storage lockers in the cubicle, just to get it over with. At least once this is done, he has every excuse in the world to take a well-earned rest.
Marius, ever the go-getter, tossed his bag to a random table and went to work as well. His attention was immediately devoted to the helicopter parked in the middle of the hangar. He then started barking orders to his companions, as if they were hired help.
"You two! Check those workbenches over there. See if they have the right specs that we ordered."
Not exactly the kind of words the Uzbek wanted to hear so soon. If there's anything that gets under his skin, it's someone telling him how to do his job.
"Zatem prover'te sebya, piz`da... (Check them yourself, you cunt...)", he muttered under his breath.
Marius didn't hear it. Alexander Senaviev, who was just standing nearby, patted his comrade's shoulder.
"Shuhrat. Perestan'te byt' grub k svoyemu bratu, teper. (Don't be rude to your brother, now.)"
"Zanimaytes' svoim delom! (Mind your own damn business!)", he spat back.
Of course, the old soldier with the greying scruff just laughed at his attempt to put him in his place. It's just what the younger man needed to feel even more uneasy. While his comrades went to their respective stations and got settled, Shuhrat opened a storage locker and inspected its contents. Pulling out a notebook from his bag and scribbling down, he didn't give a damn if this locker wasn't the same place Marius ordered him to go check.
A quick look at the supplies that the American government has graciously provided them with, it's clear that they are more than enough to build and maintain Rainbow's high-tech arsenal. All he needs to do now is to catalogue each component and count them all. But it's safe to assume that with the right tools, a few more pistons and drill components can be handcrafted from these materials to create another batch of Matryoshka chasses. The fabricators can help Alex build spare parts for his custom Degtyaryov LMG. The reloading bench can supply Marius with more ammunition for his Magpie defense systems. And there's enough copper wire here to help Emma build another RSD-1 drone.
The ex-Spetsnaz suddenly wished their mutual lady friend had joined them in the tour earlier, rather than sleep in her room at the Army barracks. But that's probably for the best, because she can be quite annoying when she's excited. And there's plenty of things here for her to be excited about.
"Tovarisch! Check this out!" Alex called out.
Speak of the devil. The two men immediately stopped what they were doing, only to see the other Russian at the workbenches, stupidly grinning ear to ear, and clutching a large turret shield in his hands. It looked like the same ones the US Army normally installs on its tanks and APCs.
"I can put this in my machinegun, da?"
"If you want to be an even bigger target, sure.", Marius replied sarcastically.
"Hah! Says the man who loves wearing large earmuffs!"
"Hey, my helmet keeps me... Shut up, you dummkopf..."
Poor humor and thinly-veiled contempt: this is part of what Shuhrat signed up for. Exasperated in his mind, he went back to work, removing his presence from the banters between the two.
Minutes went by. His only solace was the bits and pieces in front of him, neatly arranged inside toolboxes and drawers. The more he analyzed each batch of parts, the more he was impressed at the level of care the Americans give their tools. The last person who used this workbench must have been a seasoned craftsman who knew the importance of tidiness and proper organization, much like he did. Half of the job was already done, and the only thing left is to jot down how many eye lags, socket screws, carriage bolts, and other materials each container had.
The GRU, and the Russian Army by extension, also encouraged a similar level of discipline in craftsmanship. During his time in Alabino, most of the weapons that Shuhrat tested were not exactly modular in design. So when a prototype rifle is disassembled, every single component must be labelled and memorized, otherwise the weapon will fail, fall apart, or even misfire when it is put back together. As such, he devised ways to efficiently record every bolt and bullet they come across.
Such glaring similarities in work ethos only made him realize just how much he has in common with the Americans, at least when it comes to building things. And to think that a long time ago, on a snowy day somewhere in Moscow, an old spy reminder him and his fellow soldiers to consider these people as their adversary. In a different world, disparate countries can join forces and work together for a common purpose without any problem. Especially so if that world also has terrorists and other evil men who are indiscriminate of race, culture, or flag. But alas, political agendas, ideologies, and the like just had to get in the way. As for the one who used to blindly follow the GRU's orders, he felt a momentary tinge of shame, well-aware that he once contributed to the problem.
Perhaps leaving the GRU to work for Team Rainbow was his own, small way of setting things right? To use his talents to protect innocent people, rather than to serve the purpose of a select few?
But these are for another discussion, best saved for another time. Right now, he needs to keep listing Rainbow's supply of tech components. Taking a momentary break from his work, Shuhrat realized that he was not even halfway done with the contents of this locker. There are about five or six more waiting a run-through, excluding the other workstations that Alex is checking. Too much work to handle in so little time. He hates to admit that a part of him wants to leave this blasted inventory checking for tomorrow.
It is at this moment that Marius entered his peripheral vision. The German seemed upset when he emerged from the parked helicopter.
"Verdammter mist! (Goddamit!)", he cursed. "They don't even have a rivet head gauge in this place!?"
If memory serves well, mechanics need this to measure the height and diameter of the rivets on an aircraft's fuselage. Good thing Shuhrat already found one in a locker he just checked.
"Here you go..." he tossed the tool.
Marius was quick to catch the flying object into his hand. "Huh. Nice find."
The compliment was acknowledged, but nothing else came after that. It's just all in the day's work, from one tinkerer to another. They may hate each other's guts, but they're still teammates. Much like what Alex said, they're 'brothers'.
"Hey, have you checked these lockers?", the German spoke again.
"*sigh* I'll get to them once I'm finished with this one-"
"No, it's fine. I got it from here."
That response caught the Uzbek's attention, causing him to stop for a moment and glance at the other man with skepticism in his eyes. This is the first time the proud engineer offered him a helping hand.
"Oh, what's this?" Alex blurted out from the other side of the room, "Tovarisch Streicher is finally getting his hands dirty?"
"At least I make myself useful, unlike you."
The other two men burst into laughter when they heard that. It was a good jab at the older Russian's antics.
It all became clear now. This is what Shuhrat really signed up for. To see, or even to prove, that different people can stand side by side for the greater good. No strings attached, no hidden agendas from some cloak-and-dagger entity. All this time, Rainbow has been an example that everyone can set aside their prejudices and work together for the world's safety, accomplishing something larger than themselves. And to play a part in it all has been an amazing stroke of luck, a chance he never imagined he would get. The boy from Samarkand has certainly come a long way.
He took this realization to heart, content in knowing that he had truly outgrown whatever nonsense the GRU taught him. The trio spent the rest of the afternoon working at the hangar, as they were ordered to, prepping it for Rainbow's eventual use the following morning. But right then and there, Shuhrat felt right at home.
Author's Comments/Notes: The IQxBlitz story I wrote is still fresh in my mind, so apologies if the tone on this one is quite similar. Writing Fuze's story made me realize how interesting of a character he actually is. His immigrant background caught my attention, but the fact that he once worked for the ultra-secretive GRU intrigued me more. As an aside, I'm hoping the leaked "Tachanka buff" turns out to be true, so I referenced it here. Next up is Buck. Cheers!
