It was another Blazing, Hot day in the Afghanistan Desert. The Sun pelted the Country mercilessly; yet two Soldiers, both wearing the standard Russian Fatigues for the 40th Soviet Airborne Regiment, marched across the Dunes. Both Men were 'Scouting' between Spugmey Keep and another Outpost to the West; while 'officially' scouting, this was actually a punishment for both their misdemeanors.
Both were Caucasian Males, though one stood at a Intimidating Six Foot, Six and the other was just under Six Feet. The Tallest had a Pale Skin tone, even after so long in the desert, with Short, Black hair that stood up in the front. His eyes were seemingly Brown, but with his Mood, and the Bright Desert day, looked almost Bloody Red. He was a Tall, Strong Man, with little respect for empty Authority and even less for Cowards.
The Shorter of the Two was a Young, Brown-eyed Male, of just Twenty-Two in comparison to the Twenty-nine year old Veteran beside him. His Brown Hair was longer than regulation allowed and was handsomely curly; His face not even clean-shaven, but simply lacking in the ability to grow hair unlike his Older Friend. He was Thin, lacking any real muscle or fat, He didn't look the part of the Soldier, but his Enthusiasm begs to differ, when He isn't being put on 'Recon'.
These Two, were the Closet Friends and Allies they had. The Tallest, called himself, 'Black Wolf'. A Name He called himself even to himself. It was, IS, His Identity, To himself, and his Friend. The Shorter Soldier, his name was Suvel Astrokitck, but was Lovingly given the Name 'Brown Gator' by his Comrade. Not that it implied a certain relationship, but rather, the Undying Camaraderie the two would always share with one another.
Black Wolf hummed to himself softly, catching Gator's attention. As the noise wasn't of boredom, but actually for the purpose of notifying the Shorter Man. Gator spoke silently, His Voice a great many things as He did so. Scared, Excited, Angry, even Bored; or just as Wolf would say 'Sounds like Gator'.
"Wolf...? Wha-..." Wolf waved him off, signaling him to quiet himself before pointing off into the distance. Wolf himself, remained stone jawed as He pulled up his Binoculars.
He observed a Horse on the top of a Hill. It was Odd, no Horses lived in Afganistan, or rather, Don't LIVE in this Region anymore. Why the Horse was on top of that Hi-... Wolf Frowned deep as He spotted the Prone Man underneath the Equine. Speaking for the First time that Day. "Oh... Sniper." With the last word, The Sniper pulled the Trigger, as the Gunshot retort rang forth like... a Gunshot, Wolf barreled to the left, knocking both Him and Gator over the side of the Hill. Removing them from the Sniper's Line of Sight.
Gator cursed, out of Fear more so than Pain as He covered his Head. "Wolf...! Did you say Sniper...!? The Hell do we do!?" Wolf hummed to himself softly and then looked Gator in the eyes. "We wait for the Cuka to move, OR, We wait him out." His Voice was surprising not as Deep as one would expect, his words were slow, soft-spoken, and calm as He dug his SVG-76 from his Back.
Gator almost whined softly as He pulled his own Rifle from his side and hugged it to his Chest. Yelping as another Bullet impacted the sand above their heads and covered them in the Yellow Grain. "We just WAIT here and get shot at!? That's a Horrible Idea...! I'll Radio for back-up...!" As Gator pulled the Radio from his Chest, Wolf grabbed it and took it from the younger man. Staring into his eyes once more with Intensity, his voice carrying, not Anger, but rather the voice of one who Reprimands someone before they even do something Stupid. "No Back-up, Gator. That Sniper will just have more Target Practice. We wait, and We do what's best." Another Bullet pelted the Sand above them, making Gator yelp once again and making Wolf actually Growl.
Wolf wouldn't admit it to his Comrade, Gator. But this was Action He was wanting, No, BEGGING for. Something that with the slightest mistake, would end his Life. The Man closed his eyes and smiled before gripping his Gun tightly in his hands, His ears picking every single movement up. Between the Wind cutting through the Dunes, Gator breathing roughly in Anxiety, even the Sand rolling down the Hill. Yet, no more Shots rang forth. Wolf hummed softly as He yoinked Gator's Hat, much to the combined confusion and protest of the Young Man, and hung it on the barrel of his Rifle. He slowly pushed his Gun into the air, Yet, even when his Buddy's hat was exposed, No shot came to claim the Brains of the Headwear's non-existent Wearer.
Gator smirked, in such a way Wolf would describe as 'Gator's Asshole-ish Smirk'. "Guess He moved on...!" He started to stand, reaching for his hat. Wolf grabbed his Belt as yet another bullet rang forth, and swept his legs with a swift kick. Both making sure the Bullet missed Gator's face by inches, and that He was back out of the Line of Fire. "Guess He's not fooled by the, 'Hat on the Gun' trick. He's Patient, and Accurate. Shut up, Sit down, and WAIT." Wolf growled out to Gator, Staring at the Sand beside his head as if though He could glare through the loose element as straight at the Assailant. Gator groaned loudly in protest to the 'Life-Saving Manuever' Wolf just used on him. "You could've just pulled Me down...! Or let me get shot... At least THAT wouldn't of Hurt so much..." He groaned again and positioned himself parallel to Wolf once more. "I'm going to be stuck here all day with you, Aren't I...?" Wolf chuckled softly with a nod.
"Patrol Team Seven, Come in, What is your Position?" Wolf looked at Gator's Radio with an eyebrow raised. Both of them were a bit surprised to hear the Russian Radio calling for them, It had been a Long Day, sitting in the same exact spot. Night was even beginning to fall across the Desert. Gator snapped the radio off his harness and handed it to Wolf, who Growled before answering back in Russian. "This is Patrol Team Seven, He are about a quarter kilometer away from Spugmey Keep, We've been pinned by a Sniper all day. Unsure if He's still there." Wolf and Gator, through their Silence and Faces looking as if expecting to be hit, showed that they both did NOT want to hear the response. "Patrol Team Seven... Neutralize the Sniper and proceed along the Scouting Trail. Once you're Finished actually Scouting, return to Base for Debriefing." Wolf growled once more in Anger. "Okay, Gator, I'm going to stand up, If I get Shot... Tell CP He's a Dick." Gator chuckled darkly at that but started to move as well. "Nah, I'll join you. However Lives calls him the Dick." Both of them, with hesitation and thoroughly expected to get shot dead, stood up. Yet, No shot came. Only a Note was left just a few feet in front of them.
Gator 'Huh'd' and picked it up. A look of Confusion on his face. "Hey, Wolf... Do you think this has been here the whole time...?" Wolf softly took the paper from Gator and read it out loud- "Who Dares, Wins..." Wolf frowned even deeper after reading this. He Knew what this was, It was... British Airforce, He did believe. It was Odd, considering where the motto originated and what it meant. "Well, Wolf... What is it? Some kind of Phonetic Code?" Wolf was never one to lose his Cool, or to show much Emotion beyond Annoyance and Boredom, but his Face actually Paled from these Words. "No, Gator... It means... Who Dares, Wins..." Of Course, Wolf hadn't heard that motto from the British Airforce or whomever it was, The First time He heard that... Was in Big Bosses' Army, MSF.
A/N: Kept you Waiting, Huh? Anyhoot, I have actually PLAYED MGS:V now, and thus, can write with much better Story progression. I will now proceed to write chapters that are actually Enjoyable and Sensible too. Expect Flashbacks of Horrid Detail. See You Later.