A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.
It had been raining all morning. It was half past noon, and the sky was so dark and stormy that it was clear the weather wouldn't be getting better until well past nightfall. The Boss had ordered anything that could blow away get clamped down, and put a moratorium on construction of any of the platforms. Right now, Mother Base was simply hunkering down and waiting for the storm.
He stood against one of the massive computer drives on the side of the room, watching his companion checking the weather radar intently. The blue screen of the monitor created a sickly blue look on Master Miller's face.
"Any luck?" Ocelot asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.
"It's not going to stop any time soon." Miller said, with both a frustrated and defeated tone. "We'll be lucky if we get overcast tomorrow. Hate to say it, but we're not getting anything accomplished today." He growled and rubbed his brow. "And that puts us a day behind Cipher."
"We can't fight Mother Nature with the same rage we're fighting Cipher, Miller." Ocelot offered. "Plenty of men before us have tried to defy her. Usually ends in humiliating defeat. Not that that stops people from trying. The Mongols had to learn their lesson twice, after all."
"What's your point?" Miller grumbled.
"Don't have one, really. Just saying that maybe if we just accept the fact that we can't get anything done today, then perhaps it's for the best that we just take the day to unwind. Had a pretty busy week, you know. If I know the Boss, he's probably taking a nap." He sighed, and put his longcoat back on. "I'm headed to the main barracks, just to check up on the boys and girls. They need their supervisor, after all."
"Bah. If you're their supervisor I weep for their safety." Miller said, but there was no malice in his words. "You're just as bad as the rest of them."
"It helps to establish rapport with the Dogs every now and then." Ocelot winked. "You should give it a try, you know."
Miller just made a face, and hobbled over to his desk. He sat down with some difficulty, and pulled out one of the drawers. Within moments, he had pulled something out. Ocelot looked closer, and raised an eyebrow.
"Huh. Didn't think you read for pleasure, Miller."
"Can't spend all of my time plotting revenge against Cipher, can I?" Miller asked, somewhat testily. Ocelot was about to respond, but the reply caught in his throat when he saw the title on the book.
Moby Dick.
"Er…yeah. Yeah, I mean, no, you can't." He made a motion like he was doffing a cap. "I'll be headed out now. You want coffee or something, I'll have one of the boys working community service hours bring it to you. Wish me luck that I don't drown."
Miller simply "Hmmph"ed, and was clearly already buried in his book. Ocelot rolled his eyes, and left the man to his reading.
…
By the time he'd made it to the barracks, he was drenched. He laid his longcoat on one of the coatracks by the door, and was relieved that the bandolier of shotgun shells he kept slung over his shoulder wasn't ruined. He had to keep up appearances, after all. He took a seat at one of the tables on the edge of the main lobby, and was content to simply stare and watch the Diamond Dogs interacting. It was a multi-leveled room, with tables and lounge chairs and a few small televisions. People were clustered together, and he was relieved that he didn't see anyone left by themselves. Well, other than himself, that is. But he was okay with that for right now. He always did like people-watching.
His eyes fell towards a table to the right, where a group of Dogs were sitting and playing cards. He noticed that there was an open chair, and a smirk started curling on his lips…
…
"Fold."
"Pussy." Wounded Fox scowled at the Dog across from him that had laid his cards facedown on the table. "I guarantee you had a good hand. You're just afraid of getting cleaned out."
"That's because you are cleaning me out." The Dog was an Afghani, codenamed Fighting Osprey, and he stroked his beard as he watched the others. "I'm getting awfully sick of being everyone's chip bank, you know."
Osprey was one of the only men on base that spoke Pashto, and as a result was frequently brought into the makeshift intel center on the Command Platform for when Snake was out in the field, to serve as a translator for whenever the Boss needed to speak to locals and some of the Hamid fighters he liasoned with. Osprey was technically under the banner of R&D, but everyone and their brother knew that it was only a matter of time before he moved over to the "intel" team…whenever its platform was finished. He was a sharp man, and pleasant to everyone on the base. He was also shit at cards.
"He has a point, Fox." Rabbit said, adjusting his glasses. "You haven't been able to get any over on me, so you are just taking it out on Osprey over here. Not really fair, you know."
"Well not everyone knows how to fucking count cards, Rabbit."
"…This is poker, Fox. Not blackjack."
"Shut up, Osprey."
"Play nice, boys." Pequod was sitting at the table in the chair next to Fox, although he was not playing. Instead, he was content to leaf through a worn-looking book. He hadn't even looked up from the pages when he addressed them, so engrossed was he in the book.
"Whatcha readin', Pequod?" Fox asked.
"Lord of the Flies." Pequod said. He still didn't look up.
"Is that anything like that other 'Lord of the' books?" Osprey asked. He looked frustrated. "Shit, it was right on the tip of my tongue. What was it Lord of?"
"The Rings." Rabbit finished for him. Osprey nodded.
"Yeah, that's it." He turned back to Pequod. "It anything like Lord of the Rings?"
Now Pequod looked up. He wasn't smiling.
"No."
"Geez, not even gonna extrapolate?" Fox asked.
"Didn't know you could use multi-syllabic words, Fox."
"Fuck off, Rabbit!"
"It's about Man's inherent cruelty to Man." They were all startled by the arrival of Ocelot, who took a seat in the empty chair at the table. "Bunch of British schoolchildren crash on a deserted island, and with no adults around they decide to form their own sort of society. Starts out pretty fun. But then it all goes to hell." Ocelot sighed. "And I might be underselling it a little bit."
"And this is a children's book?" Fox asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No. It's mocking the shit out of them. And every book like them." Pequod said, setting the book down for a moment. From the look on his face, and the way his chest heaved, he'd clearly just gotten through an emotional part of the book. Whether it was good or bad was impossible to say. "You know how books for kids tend to be all sugary and stuff? Not at all based in reality?" He shrugged. "Guess there's something sort of profound in reading something that utterly disavows that. I mean, it's depressing as shit, but it's worth reading."
"Huh." Fox muttered. "I think I'll stick to Flash Gordon serials for now."
"Lend me one of yours when you're done." Pequod said, a smile slowly forming on his face and cracking the gloom. "I could use some light reading after this."
"Why not play a round with us, Commander Ocelot?" Osprey asked the gunslinger. "We can start a new game with you."
"You're just pushing for that because I'm cleaning you out, punk."
Osprey pretended not to hear Fox's grumbling. Ocelot chuckled.
"Alright, deal me in. And Pequod, you'd better get in on this too. No need to depress yourself any more than a rainy day like this already does to a man." Sighing dramatically at being interrupted from his book, the pilot agreed and accepted a couple of cards for his hand.
…
"So how did you meet the Boss, sir?"
They were a few rounds into the game, and everyone was relatively even. To everyone's surprise, Ocelot hadn't cleaned everyone out yet. If anything, he was losing somewhat badly. Perhaps that was why Fox was brave enough to ask the Intel commander that question.
Ocelot, to their relief, didn't seem offended by the intrusion. If anything, he seemed rather amused by the question. He chuckled, and raised an eyebrow.
"I wouldn't say I met him. More like I ran into him a couple of times." He paused, silently delighting in the way that they were all seemingly leaning into the conversation, and hanging on his every word. He sighed, and racked his brain for memory's sake. "Gosh, it would have to be back around Operation Snake Eater. The Boss and I…well, I guess there's no other way to put it. We butted heads a few times."
"You fought the Boss?" Fox did a terrible job of concealing his excitement. "How'd it go? Did you nearly kill him?"
"He kicked the shit out of me." Ocelot said. He chuckled at the awed expressions on their faces. "What? There's a reason that he's the Boss, and I'm just a lieutenant. I might be your training officer for CQC and shooting and the like, but the Boss is in a league of his own. And you'd do well to remember that." He looked at his cards, and frowned. "Aw, shit. Fold."
"Woohoo!" Fox let out a whoop. "Took the Commander to the cleaners! Oh, moneymoneymoneymoneymoneyyyy…" He dragged the chips towards his pile, and gave some over-the-top bows to everyone at the table. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be sure to spend your money wisely and with great care for the future." He got up from the table. "You know, I'm feeling awfully lucky tonight. Think I'm gonna stop by and see how Angel's doing."
"In the pouring rain?" Rabbit asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pfft. As if. She's off duty right now, over there with her gal pals." Fox said, pointing to a table in the corner of the barracks lounge where a few of the women recruits and operatives were talking. "Adios, amigos!"
The rest of them watched him go for a moment, and then Osprey broke the silence.
"Five bucks says he gets slapped."
"You're on." Rabbit said. Ocelot chuckled.
"Just make sure to drag him to the med bay if he gets that shoulder messed up again." Ocelot said. He stood up from his chair. "I'd better go check in with the Boss. He's over at the R&D platform right now, and said he needed to talk to me about a few things. Can't spoil it yet, though, boys. You'll have to wait." He nodded a farewell to the others, and walked out the door.
…
He'd barely made it a step into the rain when he heard a voice behind him.
"You sandbagged."
He turned around, and saw Pequod standing there with his arms crossed across his chest. There was a lightly suspicious look on the young man's face. Ocelot shrugged.
'Don't know what you're talking about, kiddo."
"I peeked at your hand." Pequod said. "You were carrying a goddamn Royal Flush. Nobody could have beaten that. And you folded and let Fox win with a three-of-a-kind."
Ocelot sighed, and put his hands in his coat pocket. There was a cryptic look on his face when he spoke again.
"Alright, you caught me. I might not have pushed as hard as I could have with that last hand. But here's a question for you to think about, Pequod: what if I'd won?"
"What?" Pequod seemed legitimately stumped.
"What. If. I'd. Won?" Ocelot asked again. "Remember, those men are volunteers. Just like you, though not for as nearly the personal reasons that you're on base. Volunteers. They're already giving everything they have and even more if the call asks for it. They're vulnerable, in a sense. And I am their commanding officer. And I would never put myself in a position where I could take away from any of my men." He pointed a finger to the pilot. "And I hope you learn that lesson for yourself, too."
"Why? I'm just a pilot." Pequod said. "I don't command anyone."
"Not now, you don't." Ocelot said. "But Boss and Miller have been talking. They want to get a fleet of helicopters off of the ground, and right now they're recruiting from the ranks. And soon, we're gonna have more than a couple of wannabes hoping to carry the Boss from hot zones. But they can't do that without training." Ocelot smiled warmly. "And who better to help them out and train them than the one and only Pequod?"
Pequod sighed, and rolled his eyes.
"Alright, fine. I'll do it."
"Good." Ocelot said, nodding in approval. "Don't worry, it won't take up too much more of your time. Wouldn't want to get between you and your music. And books. And...everything else, I guess." Ocelot looked like he knew something but was choosing to say nothing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I want to get back inside before I'm sopping wet to the bone." He waved pleasantly. "Take it easy, Pequod."
And he was gone in the rain.
Pequod stood there in the doorway, watching the rain falling in an endless monsoon, and contented himself to stare out into the distance. He hadn't had many times to talk with the man called Revolver Ocelot, though each and every time had been cordial and pleasant. So much so, that it was starting to worry the younger man. As he reached into his pocket, producing a lighter and a small rolled cigarette, he found himself remembering a bit of scuttlebutt that had gone around in the first days of the Diamond Dogs: that Revolver Ocelot was kind and fatherly to the men and women underneath him, but was utterly ruthless to those that defied him or even those that were against him.
As Pequod took his first drag, he wondered when he would see that other side of the man called Revolver Ocelot.
A/N: Just another day in the Seychelles.
…