A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.
"Talk to me about Africa."
Rabbit gulped a little bit. The Boss was sitting across the desk from him, his arms folded across his chest and a look of passivity on his face. But the look in his eye was one of complete and utter focus. The young analyst had never had that much attention put on him before by the leader, and his nervousness was clear to see. Ocelot smiled reassuringly.
"Don't worry, kid. Just tell him what you've told me about your notes."
"Okay." Rabbit took a deep breath. "The field ops keep coming in with reports of activity in Afghanistan. It's consistent and reliable."
"So?" Snake asked. "That's something I could have told you from days of field work."
"Yeah, but here's the thing, Boss." Rabbit said, finding a confidence he didn't know that he had. "The reports and the supplies that flow in to the various bases and camps that you've scouted? They don't change. Ever. The same number of supplies in and out…and yet take the facility you found that giant walker thing."
"Sahelanthropus." Ocelot said.
"Sahelanthropus. Right." Rabbit said. "The supplies that go in weekly? They're shipped in like clockwork…but there isn't nearly enough supplies in a shipment to manage the number of soldiers that one would need to adequately stock the base."
Snake's expression softened as he seemed to reach a eureka moment.
"So what you're suggesting…"
"…Is that Cipher is going through the motions with their Afghan bases. They're running a smokescreen, presenting the back side of a playing card to you and telling you it's a brick. It looks good but there's no substance. And to anyone that hasn't looked hard enough, it'd seem like their efforts are still focused in Afghanistan. But thanks to, um, Emmerich's 'confessions'…"
He tried not to look at the smug look on the face of Commander Ocelot.
"…We know that they're sending shipments – in bulk – to Africa. Don't know specifically, but I'd wager that they're headed to the Angola-Zaire region."
"Why there?" Snake asked Rabbit.
"Because Angola is a hotspot for American-Soviet proxy wars." Ocelot cut in. "And it's got some healthy oil fields, so there are plenty of PMCs strutting about trying to get a cut of the market. So with all of that craze, it would make sense for Cipher to just slip in unnoticed and try to continue operations out there."
Snake nodded, his face contemplative. Then he turned to Rabbit.
"Tell me about what you and the Intel Team have found about the PMCs I could see if I went into that region."
Rabbit shuffled his notes, and at the same time was thankful for Ocelot's presence. The leader of the Intel Team was integral to this next part of the debrief.
…
Pequod was so busy washing off the front of Baby's nose that he didn't hear the staggered footsteps behind him.
"Don't you think you've polished her enough?"
Pequod turned around, and didn't bother hiding his amused expression.
"Commander Miller! Haven't seen you for a while. Didn't know that you left the ops building." He said, turning back to apply more soap.
"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a vampire that sleeps in a coffin, so stop spreading that rumor around." Miller said, adjusting his sunglasses. "I can handle the Seychelles heat just fine, Pequod."
"Of course sir, of course."
There was a pause.
"You know that I don't approve of your interactions with that thing."
"I am aware." Pequod said, continuing to scrub away. Miller wrinkled his nose.
"She's a danger to the Boss, and especially to you. The Boss was only just able to defeat her in one-on-one combat, and it's entirely possible that she was holding back to lull him into a false sense of security. She could easily defeat you."
"Easily."
Finally, Miller could take it no more.
"Pequod, why won't you take my warnings seriously? This is your life that I'm talking about here!"
At that, Pequod dropped the soapy rag into the bucket, and some dirtied water splashed out. He turned to look at Miller, and his expression was ice cold.
"You're right, Commander. It is my life. And I will choose to live it how I please. I don't see shadows everywhere, and I don't immediately give into suspicion. And with the way I've treated Quiet, which is her name, I am confident in the knowledge that if she ever betrayed us…she'd give me an honorable death. Or maybe even keep me as a prisoner, just to force me to make her more mixtapes."
"I could have you dismissed from Diamond Dogs, young man." Miller growled. "This is conduct unbecoming."
"You could." Pequod said. "But you never will."
"And why is that?" Miller asked.
"Because you may question my attitude, and I will freely admit that it can get out of control. But you can never question my resolve. I will willingly fly the Boss through hell, or anyone else on this base. And if you yourself were on the banks of the River Styx, I would be there if you called for an emergency evac."
There was a silence as they stared at each other. Finally, Miller spoke.
"Very poetic, Pequod."
"I have my moments, sir."
The ghost of a smile appeared on Miller's lips.
"Fair enough. So long as your devotion is there, I suppose our discussions will get no more heated than this. Though I won't stop warning you about that thing. It's dangerous." He gestured to the Base Development Platform. "I'm on my way to the BDU to check on the progress for the additions to the Command Platforms. I'll see you later, Pequod."
He hobbled off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Pequod crossed his arms over his chest and tsked to himself.
"Man, there are times where he really needs to get the stick out of his ass."
A slight whooshing sound.
"No, Quiet, I doubt he'd be happy if you volunteered to beat him over the head with that very stick."
…
"Hullo, sweetie, have a seat!"
Hissing Coyote took a seat at the mess hall table. The others were already there, and were in varying states of eating their food. It was lasagna today, and despite his name Vile Armadillo was proving to be a very capable head chef after the retirement of Weasel. It was his first week on the job, and yet already the men and women of Diamond Dogs were starting to look forward to the menus he posted every morning.
"Having a good day?" Howling Badger asked. She'd let her hair down, and every now and then had to brush a grey lock out of her face. Coyote shrugged.
"Alright, I guess. I've been busy. R&D has been working overtime on a lot of projects. I don't know where we got the influx of GMP to afford it, but we afford it all the same."
"What are you working on?" Grey Chameleon asked. She was in the middle of a 24-hour break, mandatory. She'd been working nonstop in the ICU for the past week helping recover two members of MSF that the Boss had found wandering around in the deserts of Afghanistan. When Commander Ocelot discovered that she'd been going so long without relief, he immediately put her on imposed rest and severely reprimanded the lead surgeon, Blue Ostrich, for allowing one of his subordinates to overwork herself without noticing. There was talk that Ostrich was going to get reprimanded more severely in the future, but at this point it was all rumors.
"I dunno. I'm working on creating better plating for Pequod and the fleet of helicopters." Coyote said. "He wanted me to work on better chaff pod missiles, but that's pushing it. I'm only one person after all. Growling Wolf is working on upgrading the sniper rifles that the Boss brings into battle…as well as one for that weird quiet lady."
"Really? She gets R&D resourcing?" Grey Chameleon asked, somewhat annoyed. She wasn't sure what her opinion of Quiet was, but right now she was still on edge.
"Yeah, but it doesn't cost much. Very hush-hush, though. Miller would hit the roof if he found out that Ocelot told Wolf to work on this project. But then again, Wolf was GRU like Ocelot was: they both know the importance of keeping secrets."
"Clearly." Chameleon said, shuddering. Wolf might float into their friend group every now and then, but the Russian was very quiet and very aloof. It was quite intimidating and off-putting at the same time.
"Now now, no need to denigrate one of your sisters." Badger said, in a gently scolding tone. "Wolf is just like the rest of us. Just channels herself in a different way."
"Come on, 'Mom'." Coyote said. "You're the most normal of all of us."
"I wouldn't say that." Badger said with a cryptic smile. "For all you know I'm the craziest person here on Mother Base."
"I bet Komodo thinks that." Grey Chameleon muttered into her coffee, but then realized to her horror that she'd still spoken too loud. To her relief, the others burst into peals of laughter. Badger wiped a tear from her eye and smiled warmly.
"Well, Komodo Dragon is a very dear friend. And I imagine he thinks that because he knows I could beat him in CQC." She then looked around, and then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "But don't tell him I told you that."
The others chuckled and promised.
…
"Are they doing alright?"
Komodo looked over at The Boss, and shrugged.
"They're stable, if that's what you're asking. They were in a hotter portion of the desert than I was when they got pulled out, though. I have no idea what their life was like after the fall of Mother Base. I can barely remember my own."
"Their faces are so beaten up and swollen." Snake said sadly. "I can barely recognize them. Can you?"
"I'd recognize Jackal and Eagle Ray anywhere, sir." Komodo Dragon said, puffing cigarette smoke through his nostrils. "Jackal was one of our best demolition experts, and Eagle Ray was good at intel. I'm…I'm kind of stunned that they're alive."
"They are, though. And that's the important thing." Snake got up from his chair, and started walking outside. "I'm headed upstairs to check on someone. I'll talk to you later, Komodo."
"Boss." The loyal soldier said, bowing his head respectfully. He took another drag of his cigarette and watched as the Boss ascended the steps of the Medical Platform to another area.
He often wondered whom it was that the Boss visited up there in his spare time. There were a lot of soldiers that cycled in and out of the Medical Platform due to a variety of issues. Perhaps he was just checking up on them by being a good leader.
…
She almost snuck up on Pequod this time. Spitting Dragon had gotten about five feet from his backside, and was about to pop the blown up bag right next to his ear when-
"Don't even think about it."
She sighed, and let the air out of the bag.
"How'd you know it was me?"
"Quiet." Pequod said, pointing to the sniper lady sitting in the passenger's seat of Baby. She was wearing Pequod's headset, and periodically bobbing her head to whatever music that he'd given her today. Dragon rolled her eyes, and sat down on one of the crates next to Pequod. She looked at the bottle he was dangling in his hand.
"Whatcha drinkin'?"
"Stella."
Dragon made a face.
"Stella Artois? Christ, that tastes like runny piss!" She shook her head. Pequod opened one of his eyes and flitted it towards her.
"Are you dissing my tastes?"
"Absolutely!" Dragon said. "I'm not gonna be polite when I know that the person I'm working with is drinking something no true drinker would be caught dead guzzling."
"Dragon, I think you might be too hard on this stuff." Pequod said. He was reclined back in his folding chair, and had one leg crossed over the other. He looked rather content and annoyed that the lady next to him was disturbing his quiet. Especially considering he had planned to toke up later.
"No I'm not. Not when you could be drinkin' this." Dragon reached into the bag she'd brought with her. Pequod fully opened his eyes now.
"Is that…Guinness?" He asked. "How the hell did you afford that stuff?"
"It's not that expensive, especially if you know who to order it from." Dragon said with a wink. "I have a few friends in Ireland that brew the stuff and sell it to me for a discount. So, I have more than I know what to do with." She handed him a bottle. "Here. For Mr. Flyboy."
"'Mr. Flyboy?'" Pequod asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well I sure as hell aren't calling you Wing Daddy."
Pequod snorted into his first sip, nearly choking on the new drink. He managed a weak smile.
"Wiseass."
"The correct term would be 'Welsh,' Poland-boy." She held up her own bottle. "Cheers!"
Pequod couldn't resist.
"The correct term is Zdrowia."
"…I don't know what that means."
"…"
"…No, seriously. Tell me. Did you just insult me in that weirdo language of yours? And secondly, why not just say it in English?"
"Jeden język nigdy nie wystarcza."
"Christ, you sound like you're gargling sandpaper."
"Sandpaper? Oh, Quiet? Can you snipe this girl for me?"
"Pequod that's not funny."
"Yes it is."
A/N: Just another day in the Seychelles.