I do not own these characters: Ada Wong and Mikhail Victor belong to CAPCOM
?Warning?/heads-up: lgbtia+ themes but it's from the lens of Afghanistan
**Preface: Ada Wong is undercover as a male American born ethnic Pashtun named Bashir. She is the acting Company Sergeant in charge, and Mikhail is the Commander. The Biohazard Countermeasures Service platoon and part of Biohazard Security Assessment platoon have returned with 30 goats and biotech supplies. They are holding a funeral alongside local Afghans.
"Many men milked Marsha. For her teats, were quite sweet." Waltz stood at the edge of the fresh dirt. He was a bit taller than the rest of the crowd. His rolled up sleeves of his military uniform showed off his veined, muscular forearms.
Solemn silence. Hands, raising slowly in the air-from the BCS guys. The BCS platoon and BSA platoon stood on one side of the mound with their rifles, while the Afghan Kuchi tribesmen stood on the other with their rifles.
Wong started crying in front of everyone-at the other end of the mound, and covered her face. She stood in her Afghan clothing, with her pikol lopsided on her head. Waltz continued, his bravado gravitas fading fast as he got into his speech.
"Marsha would scream at us to milk her, I mean really really scream. It was awful. But deep down, we all loved it. Maybe we wanted it even more, sometimes?" Waltz was becoming introspective, "Big smoooooth jello jug…maybe a bit more firm?" His hands cupped around an invisible breast. The platoons were nodding heavily in agreement.
Ahmad the interpreter was behind Wong, his hand on her shoulder awkwardly. She knelt on the ground, her rifle muzzle catching dirt inside of it. Her hand grasped his, suddenly, and then let go.
Ahmad made up his own eulogy entirely on the spot in order to avoid infuriating the Afghans, and he spoke quickly in Pashtu with faked reverence. The Kuchi tribesmen were somewhat confused, seeing a dichotomy of lecherous smirks and Wong's covered face, but they were respectfully solemn.
Waltz noticed Wong's sadness finally and cleared his throat for more silence. He continued his eulogy, "To Wong though, Marsha would be the most-definitely the most, er, grateful. Thankful! All of us too. Bashir. You…sshsss-uh, he, showed us how to squeeze and pull those nips. To preserve the-"
"NIPS MUST BE PRESERVED!" someone shouted.
Waltz shouted, "SHUT the FUCK. UP." and continued, "He slapped away those…perverted ones of us trying to use our mouths-I won't say who. So, Bashir, you turned us all into real pros." One of his thumbs pointed at himself as he said the last part.
The platoon men all said, "Thanks Bashir, you da man!" She heard another one offhandedly say, "Got a bit of chub from this, well done Waltz." Waltz smiled proudly at the compliment. His perfect white teeth glinted and his straw colored hair was in a fresh cut high and tight.
Wong got up from the fresh mound of dirt and nodded yes slowly, massaging her forehead. Then she shook her head no quickly again and started crying, covering her face full.
Bilal from the Afghans spoke to Ahmad with curiosity in his voice. Ahmad said something back, and the Afghan crowd nodded solemnly.
Waltz snapped his fingers. "I made this little tombstone inscription with my knoife." He slipped that subtle Australian nuance into his last word. One of the BCS troops handed a large rock to Waltz. Waltz bent neatly and laid it onto the ground. It read
To Wong,
Thanks for everything
~Marsha
Wong's smile under her hands was gritted and twisted in concern and gratefulness as she saw her own name was carved in very large letters.
Mikhail was the first to hug Wong, and he whispered to her, "Don't fret little gecko, they can not read their own language let alone ours." He had been furious before at her, but now he was personable.
An Afghan with a greying beard and toffee colored clothes leapt at the stone and, with all his might, threw it far and away. The rest of the Afghans quickly tackled him to the ground, punching him.
Wong peeked through her fingers at the debacle. She was scared to uncover her face, because all of her carefully applied contours were smeared, and the monolids of her eyes now had nothing to create a crease. Waltz came over to her and grabbed her arm lightly. "Lets go." He said.
She let him guide her to the large gate of their compound, and didn't allow her face to see the sun until he'd shut the gate behind them.
"Waltz." She said quickly and quietly, "First you can't have a woman's name inscribed on anything. It's culturally inappropriate AND they're not supposed to fucking. KNOW. Who the fuck I am!"
"Oh you're trying to be culturally sensitive to having your own existence extinguished. Fuck that and fuck you Wong for bending over and swallowing that absolutely massive-and I mean massive-load of horseshit. Also. You think the Afghans are going to travel somehow through our controlled airbases to follow you across the whole fucking ocean. Wong? Not a fucking chance. You know we won't let anything happen to you."
She and Waltz pushed through the blonde goats and went inside the home.
Waltz continued, "I wish you would just stop trying to be a man and be a fucking woman. You know, just be you. Lead us as a woman 24/7, I can't keep all your names straight."
Gecko. Wong. Ada [forbidden even for him to say]. Bashir. So 3.
She scoffed at him. "You fucking need to, Waltz." He stood guard outside her room as she got into her full military uniform. She went to her makeshift laboratory and got her makeup bag out from the pallets, starting to clean and re-contour her face.
Mikhail came into the lab and sat on the ground. "Gecko, you don't hafff to be so sad. We have female goats now!" His geniality was very forced.
"But Marsha was ours. He was my first successful GEO-in these mud huts with just a pool of water, a heater, and a slow computer." Wong massaged her temples.
Mikhail chuckled, "Ahmad…I think he should be paid double. Much compensation- for to do that translating profane ritual to the Afghans." Wong broke out in a hiccupping chuckle as she double checked her makeup.
"We need a Dari translator, Mikhail. Some of those guys can speak it." Wong ventured to subtly ask Mikhail.
"No, Wong this…it is not acceptable. We hafff to get local police approval for this. You know this Wong so why you feel need to ask?" He was very frustrated at her and he was trying hard to keep cool.
"It's taking too much time sir." Wong reasoned. If she said out loud that she trusted a local teenager more than anybody else, she would sound way too paranoid even to herself.
Mikhail shook his head no, even though from his face he agreed completely.
Wong let out a small scream of frustration. "Why can't the Los Illuminados operate in a country that's easier for us to navigate through?! 10 different interpreters in so many fucking days-and one of them only spoke Spanish so how the fuck he manage to get all the way over here?!" Although, this was a big exaggeration. Ahmad had been her ride or die translator that she insisted stay with her unit no matter what. He was American-born, after all.
"Hey." Waltz peeped his head through the open door way. "I would just like to say, Mikhail, in Wong's defense-last night she made the best choice to let those 15 Afghans in. They would've fought me, lost, and then everyone would say I'm a fucking infidel murderer."
Mikhail gritted his teeth. "Shut up. You were such a stupid idiot girl. Razvalyuha!"
Waltz realized that he'd struck raw nerve a bit too hard and said, "Ok sir." Looking over at Wong, she was angry and miserly towards him. He left in a rush to join the platoons outside.
She and Mikhail got up and went towards the front of the compound together, with animosity growing between them.
"You want to lead, Wong but you want to break protocol. You want to make up exceptions like them? Hmm? You want to give favor over to friends like them too? Hmm?"
She pleaded fervently, meaningfully with him, "We need allies that stick to the rules just like us, not those asshats in the cities Mikhail."
"Yeaaaaa. Ok. But you invite terrorism in our ranks?! You should be on trial, stripped of rank and stuck inside deep underground lab. No you go making decisions anymore."
"I don't I didn't and I again, I don't! Don't fucking accuse me of it."
"We are not them. We follow our rules because we are dze standard. End of discussion."
"No! No Mikhail because you fail. You fail to recognize; You gave orders for me to go out and bribe locals for information. I followed those, and now that the locals favor me, you want me to slam our doors in their face?! You need to rethink things." She pointed heatedly, trying to get in his face. He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. She yanked it back angrily.
They were by the white trucks outside the compound now. He was trying to access the materials in the front passenger seat.
"You know what I need Wong. Heart surgeon. Dealing with you will give me heart attack. You just let drug-ass bums from street down road to come inside no questions. I need medical attention because of this."
Wong waited a moment to cool off and said, "Sir, I need your sign-off to get a translator. Ok?"
His head tilted in a sideways nod.
"I'm going to go over with the men and find out why that Kuchi guy threw out Marsha's tombstone."
He put some specially treated paper on the hood of the car and started writing, waving her away.
No warpaint on her face now, yet, now, in her full military gear, she steeled herself. As she looked out on the grassy fields, she saw the bearded Kuchi men on horseback, and her platoons in various states of undress, playing football with the infected goats head. Sometimes the sheep would have to be herded away.
One tall whispy tree sheltered Waltz and the cuffed Afghan man. Waltz was pacing a bit with his rifle in his hands, immersed in the games. The Afghan was watching her approach, with some fear in his eyes. He was bleeding from his face in a few places, his lip was swollen and he had shoe marks across his dark blue perahun blouse. His black turban lay beside him.
Ahmad came running away from the Afghans over towards Wong.
Wong nodded at him to begin, and he spoke to the sitting man from a safe distance.
Since Ahmad identified as a practicing Muslim, Wong always felt it best that he say that first and then go on to ask if they were hurt.
Wong put a hand over her heart, standing tall. She said "Salaam. Bashir."
Ahmad was a bit out of breath as he talked to Wong. "He got beat up but he's pretending he's fine right now."
She ordered him to get some water bottles, and waited silently with Waltz until Ahmad came back. The Afghan remained stoic; his back arched proudly as he sat. He had a scraggly beard and a worn face. He was much older than her, probably could be considered an elder of a village.
"Are you sure you are not hurt? Good thing I am a commander trained in medicine, for you." Wong waited patiently.
She saw the man point at Waltz' back and make a motion like a punch to the face.
The man was fabricating a huge lie, because of course it was the Kuchi men themselves who had taken this man down. Her company of men would never do such a thing because they had been trained not to, and threatened with consequences if they did.
"I do not tolerate this bad behavior from my subordinates, and I will punish him now for it." Her fingers folded into a knife gesture. She slashed through the air horizontally.
Ahmad sighed and translated.
The man's eyes sparkled malignantly for a moment and then he went back to being wounded.
She went over to Waltz and stared up at his face with fake disgust on her own. She rushed her words. "I'm yelling at you Waltz. I am yelling and I know it's a crock of shit that's why I just yelled it! You shithead dearest! Look! Hurt and sad! AT EASE." She screamed full blast into his face.
"He's a fucking liar Bashir!" Waltz spat at her. "Do your worst gecko."
She paced back and forth as he stood at the position of 'at ease'. She made sure that the man could see her fury and Waltz's indignant wounded pride.
"50 pushups Waltz." She pointed casually at the ground, with sheep shit on it.
"He's a fucking liar." Waltz shouted the last word at the cuffed man, who was serene and serious. Waltz slowly knelt, putting his rifle off to the side.
Wong leaned over Waltz, just to the side of him, and yelled,
"We don't hurt civilians Waltz! 1, 2, 3-that's one. We are their guests Waltz and you can't touch a hair on their head. 1, 2, 3-that's 3."
Ahmad was translating in the guy's ear as they both watched the scene. All the men out in the field were pausing their game and migrating closer to watch.
Wong squatted by Waltz' face.
"You need to kiss my rifle Waltz." She put her own rifle on the ground, on top of Waltz hands. He winced as the metal hit his knuckles
"Bashir I lost count." He held himself up in the pushup position.
"Kiss. My fucking. Rifle. Waltz." She slapped him lightly and fast once on his cheek.
He stared up at her as he slowly went down, and plopped a wet smooth onto the gun, then he was back up.
"You're still way too far from 50 pushups Waltz. I won't relent just because you can't count to fucking five." She said this softly like a small knife.
He started counting, beginning all over again, and her hand started gently pressing the middle of his back every time he went up.
After 50, he just lay there, huffing and sweating.
"Get up Waltz." Wong demanded as their eyes locked.
"Can't. For reasons. Your…stubble is a…nice touch…today."
Wong turned to Ahmad. He knew how this was supposed to go.
Now he and Wong stood in front of the man, side by side.
"We offer many apologies for such harsh treatment. You are a good Muslim. You did not deserve any of that. How could we make amends to you?"
The man smiled now, and finally started to talk. His eyes were wandering over to Waltz. Ahmad nodded a few times and then said Tashakur a few times somewhat loud.
"He says he forgives us for our wrongdoings, but that Waltz uh…he would like to buy him from you. He says he's rich with yaks and horses. His name is Mawlawi Shariqi."
Wong cleared her throat in surprise as she maintained her businesslike façade.
She grabbed up at Ahmad's beard and started twirling it, as she appeared to be in deep deliberation. The man started talking quickly again, smiling widely now.
"Are you even a Kuchi guy?" Wong was confused, because this seemed again, like quite a few more lies.
He was nodding quickly that he was indeed with the tribe. Ahmad looked at her and said, "He is lying for sure about this but my Pashto skills are not so great."
"Waltz belongs to me. Because Waltz chose me. Understand?"
The man let out a long aaaah of understanding and looked dejected. Then both his palms lifted up, as if to say he no longer cared.
"We have important mission, so, I have to get back to my duties. How are you doing Ahmad?"
Ahmad said her piece and then let out a huge sigh. He raised his finger indicating he needed a moment to regather his thoughts.
He motioned for her to come away from everyone. Then he said quietly, "I think this is a group of Students Wong. We're not far from the city but…it's like the U.S.; democrats in the city and republicans as soon as the next town and on throughout the rest of the countryside areas."
He began untwirling the parts of his beard that Wong had surreptitiously tied up. She smiled the slightest bit at him mischievously. "You could be a pirate Ahmad. Would you please let me braid your beard?"
He looked over at the group worriedly, but said, "OK. But not in the daylight. It's frowned upon. Can I drink this extra water Wong?"
She nodded, "Take a break Ahmad, go into the compound and relax."
"Thanks Wong."
She went over to where her platoons were and shouted, "Company. FALL IN."
Her men stopped throwing the goat head to each other and hustled into a formation in front of her.
"Stand Attttttt. Ease." They relaxed from their position of attention.
"Listen up guys I got a big task for us." She felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Mahmoud. She turned around and looked at him, hiding her irritation. She made a motion to say that she couldn't speak and then cocked her head at him curiously.
He gave her a red flower. She gave him a small smile and said, "Tashakur." Then turned back to see the men smirking at her.
"BSA platoon you need to name 15 goats, tag them, take them out to pasture. BCS platoon same thing. The city police gave us this property and it extends pretty far. I have to get a certified Dari translator today from Kunduz city, so I will not be supervising-but in my stead the squad leaders will take charge. I need radio transmission squad-BSA to get out our newest data. BCS you're cooking the meals today. We all do PT tonight at 2000 except for whoever is on guardwatch. Any questions?"
They shook their heads no.
"Ok. Good. Infected are out here so. We're on red-those things jump high. Someone needs to replace Mohammad. Now. Prayer time is coming up again. Company. Attention! Fall out."
