A/N: so, i wrote this bc i got inspiration from an old story i wrote from a few years ago.
be warned: my writing's shit bc every story i write turns into a science essay.
btw, this was before the mission "Goalpost". it was the mission where you save the vice-president and shit.
i wrote this at 1 am, so this is obviously poorly edited. i do hope this ended up being good. (and not into a damn essay.)
im sleepy.
3rd Person POV
Frost paced back and forth. He fidgeted with his black balaclava as he paced. He shouldn't be this nervous as he's been in more dire situations before.
But this was different.
Rescuing someone such as the vice-president of the United States is risky. The HVI was being held hostage. What if they arrive too late? What if they fail to save him and he gets executed?
Frost has never been more nervous for a mission in his entire goddamn life.
He was never nervous for a mission, not counting the times he worried about dying. Other than that, he was never this nervous. He felt like he ran 3 miles. He was intensely sweating and he needed water since his throat felt dry. He sat down on the ground, trying to calm himself down. He tried slow breathing sequences, but every time he finishes, his nervousness comes back like a boomerang.
He didn't notice someone walking up to him until he felt someone tap his shoulder. Frost looked up, immediately regaining his composure and smiling.
"Hey," he croaked, his throat still dry.
"Hey." Sandman replied and sat down beside Frost. The latter subconsciously scooted away, much to Sandman's dismay.
"What's wrong?" Sandman asked after a moment of silence. Frost hesitantly shook his head.
"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Sandman inquired, once again. Frost hesitated, again, before responding.
"I..." Frost sighed. "I'm...nervous.."
Sandman raised a brow. "For what?"
Frost breathed in and out, looking for the right words to say. He asked himself how he would tell the man beside him - his superior - his worries without getting embarrassed.
"Well...I've been worrying," Frost started, he wasn't turning back now. "What- what if we fail...to save the vice-president...?"
Sandman stayed quiet and turned his head to look at the younger man. In fact, Sandman also asked himself questions like that.
He stayed quiet, not uttering a word as Frost spoke.
Frost kept rambling despite Sandman's silence. "What if we arrive too late and he gets executed? What if he got transferred beforehand? What if-"
"Frost." Sandman stopped Frost as he spoke. Frost fell quiet.
Sandman gave Frost a reassuring look, patting his shoulder. "Look, we'll get him. We'll succeed in our mission. We'll arrive and he'll be alive, so stop worrying your ass off, alright?"
Frost once again hesitated before nodding.
Sandman slightly squeezed Frost's shoulder. "Stop worrying, we'll get through this like we always do. We're Team Metal, after all, aren't we?"
Frost smiled and nodded, his nervousness slightly going away. Sandman was right.
"Feeling better?" Sandman asked.
Frost shrugged. "Relatively,"
That earned a chuckle from Sandman. After a moment of silence, he stood up. "I'll go ahead now, make sure you get there in time, alright?"
Frost nodded, standing up as well. "I...just need to gear up, I'll be out soon."
Sandman nodded his head in response and left Frost. The latter looked down at his balaclava, which was crumpled as he fidgeted with it earlier. He was still nervous, but if Sandman says they'll get through it, then they will.
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Sandman was right, they did rescue the vice-president in the end, after all.