"Ow! Fuck!" Grizzly muttered, slowly swapping the bandages on his arm. He couldn't tell what hurt more, the wound in his arm or his cracked rib. Yet the medics told him he'd be fine, even if he didn't feel like it.
"Holy shit I need a vacation," Eagle commented, the man sitting next to him in the cramped Stryker. Grizzly watched as the man slowly removed his boot, displaying his broken foot. The last battle had been brutal for all of them. With its end, anyone and anything had been loaded up into transports and shipped out. The wounded kids, prisoners, and the rest of the platoon.
"Tell me about it," Grizzly replied in a strained voice, "Three weeks of scrubbing and I still can't get the mud outta my hair."
"Damn trenches." another soldier muttered, sharing the general consensus between the men.
"Well, then I got good news gentlemen," Ape told them with his lack of sleep clear in his voice, "Command's pulling us off the front for a bit. "
The men gave out a tired cheer as small smiles graced some of their faces. Grizzly however remained quiet, too tired to celebrate. It was strange to think that after months of non-stop fighting, he'd be given a short break. He didn't actually know what he would do when it arrived. They were getting paid, maybe he could visit his parents. At the very least say hi to them.
Then again, the FOB was supposedly getting new recreational additions. Last he heard they added a soccer field, a sauna, and a movie theater. It was clear the others were having similar ideas.
"About time we got some shore leave." one soldier commented, as Grizzly saw him remove his helmet. Even with the air conditioning a thick layer of sweat was present on the man's brow.
"Preach brother," another agreed, "been far too long since I've been home."
"You got a wife?" the first one asked curiously.
"Heh, well not yet." the second chuckled, before pulling a small box out of his backpack. He opened it, leaving the others to let out a low whistle, finding the large ring inside it.
"Hot damn, how much did you spend on that thing?"
"Not a dime. Found it back in one of those mines a while back when I was in the Congo."
"Lucky bastard." A soldier muttered as a new conversation started across from Grizzly.
"Yo Eagle! What about you, got anyone back home?" a different soldier asked, dragging everyone's attention over to Eagle. He was busy polishing his desert eagle, unaware of the discussion.
"Just a sis-" Eagle instinctively replied before quickly stopping, now aware of his mistake, "On second thought forget what I said."
"No no, please tell us more." a soldier joked with a wide smile.
"She like long walks on the beach?" another joined in, to which a few more laughs were heard in the Stryker.
"For your information, Jackal, she prefers a man who can cook."
"Well guess I should start practicing then," Jackal replied, to which Eagle responded with a chuckle. And the entire time, Eagle polished his gun. And continued polishing it. It made Grizzly slowly realize something.
"Hey Eagle, why do you always have that pistol with you?" Grizzly asked, thinking it over for a few moments. Strategically bringing a desert eagle as a secondary was a stupid idea. It was a large heavy gun, and the MSF didn't really have stocks of .50 action express. Yet Eagle carried it with him everywhere.
"I just like the gun," Eagle calmly replied, as he carefully set the gun in his holster, "Consider it my quirk."
"So you have a gun quirk?"
"No, I mean it says 'quirk' on the grip," Eagle told him to which he pulled out his gun. Holding it out, Grizzly could see that it did say quirk. That elicited a small laugh out of Grizzly, even though the joke was pretty dumb. But it did bring more questions forward.
"You got me there, but what is your quirk then?"
"Eh, don't have one," Eagle answered, before leaning back in his chair. He put one arm behind his back, with the other covering his face with his helmet.
"Seriously?"
"Yep," Eagle replied, adding an emphasis on the p.
"Huh, cool," Grizzly commented as he thought back to his previous interactions with Eagle. It made sense as he looked back on it, as Grizzly never spotted a sign of a quirk. Now were this past Grizzly, he would be questioning why someone quirkless was on the battlefield. It was a horrible dangerous place where someone without a quirk could die. After being on said battlefield, his opinion changed. War didn't give a fuck on what your quirk was, all of them were dying to the mortar shell.
Except for Gorilla, he was bulletproof. He instead got cholera from the trenches. But it made a lot of sense.
"Why a desert eagle though? The damn things are heavy as shit."
"I just like it, that and it goes with the codename."
"And yet you can't handle the heat."
"Heh, not all of us are walking ACs rookie."
Nagant was swamped. Reports cluttered the table around her along with a dozen cups of coffee. This entire month had been nothing but a clusterfuck. The hero's assault had only been three days, and yet they had disrupted the MSF's already fragile supply lines. And now, she didn't know what their next move was. The number of refugees under the MSF's population had exploded again, now reaching almost a hundred thousand.
And more kept arriving by the day. It brought a strain on the MSF's capabilities, so they were forced to institute a policy. If the refugees wanted protection, some would have to fight. Nagant didn't like it, and she was pretty sure the rest of the MSF didn't like it. But they didn't have a lot of options. Every day meant another mouth to feed, and another soldier needed to keep the frontline secure.
It had brought a boost to the MSF's numbers in Africa surprisingly quickly. On the first day of the policy's implementation, they went from two thousand five hundred men to five thousand. Most, however, were still in training or they were defecting prisoners. But all of these actions were pointless for one reason. They didn't know what their next goal was. Which is why the rest of MSF's higher-ups were having a meeting. So with a sigh, as she read the last report, she pulled out her Idroid and turned it on. Setting it down on the table, the meeting began.
"Nagant," Snake greeted before the rest of the officers made themselves known. Snake and Miller were obviously there, along with Ocelot. As well as the highest-ranking staff ranging from the Combat teams to Medical. It was surprising however when the voice of Nezu spoke up.
"I assume this is everyone."
"It is." Miller told him before clearing his throat, "Now, as the reports have stated the trail on Night Owl has gone cold again. At best, we have the vague assumption he's somewhere in Asia."
"I can confirm, he just recently met with the President before disappearing," Ocelot chimed in, the sound of his revolvers spinning present. It made Nagant ponder what was said. For the time being Night Owl was effectively untouchable. Both because they couldn't find him, and because he was hiding in the HPSC's backyard. It was a miracle alone that Mother Base hadn't been discovered with how close to Japan it is. But it might not remain so if they continued searching for Night Owl.
"What now then?" an officer asked, "We waiting until we can grab him?"
"Not at the moment," Snake answered before Nagant heard him breathe out. She assumed he was smoking.
"However, that's not to say we don't have work to do," Snake continued, "With Night Owl off the grid that means we have more pressing matters. The most prevalent is what we do about Africa. The moment we leave the warlords are going to swarm into the Tyrant's old territory."
"Leaving thousands of innocent lives in the crossfire," Miller finished, "Meaning until further notice, we are permanently occupying Nigeria."
"That's going to take a lot of manpower, sir," another officer told them, the man quickly running through the numbers in his head.
"I assume this is why we're moving South," Nagant stated then, before receiving confirmation from Snake.
"Yes. The South can be better defended with the reinforcements from the naval landing. It will also make resupply easier."
"Makes sense. Still, we plan on building a nation?" Nagant asked.
"If we have to," Snake replied, to which the meeting became silent. Not out of shock, the idea had crossed their minds before. It was instead due to realization. They would be stuck in Africa, for possibly years. Forced to fight what may be a never-ending conflict. And yet, something was off about it, as Nagant noted the sound of someone sipping tea.
"Truly puzzling, although if I may, has anyone found the reason as to why Africa is in its current state?" Nezu asked, "I've been digging through historical records for a while now, however, nothing is giving me a clear picture. I fear the HPSC is to blame."
Nagant sighed before she responded, "I would expect as much. But truly, not even the locals are sure. Some chalked it up to the emergence of quirks, others think it was growing corruption and some small wars breaking out. I'd personally blame the HPSC."
"How come?" Snake asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"I don't know," Nagant answered, "Just seems like something they'd do."
"For that, I have to agree," Nezu stated before she heard him taking a sip, "If it is possible, could I be given your reports on the matter?"
"I'll see what we can do," Snake replied, "Is that everything?"
"There's one more thing actually," Miller answered, "President Sainz called three hours ago. Said he had someone you'd want to meet, but that he couldn't specify who."
"I'll get on that then. Meeting adjourned."
And with the call ending, it left Nagant in silence.
"Mr President," Snake greeted holding out his hand for Sainz. With a wide smile, the man grabbed it quickly as the two shook. The trip over to Bogota had taken a few days, but Sainz had insisted on an in-person meeting.
"Snake, it's good to see you," Sainz replied as the two sat in his office. He then gave Maria a curt nod when she entered the room, with her doing the same. A fourth person soon entered the office. He was a short man with a receding hairline, and his hand was a solid block of iron. It didn't take long for Snake to spot him.
"I hear there was someone you wanted me to meet," Snake said, gesturing over to the fourth man.
"Ah yes." Sainz began, "Snake I'd like you to meet the Diplomat from Poland Jan Kowalczyk."
Kowalczyk stepped forward then, before shaking Snake's hand.
"A pleasure to finally meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine, although, I'm assuming this isn't just a meet and greet," Snake replied, to which Kowalczyk nodded his head.
"You'd be correct. First, on behalf of the Polish government, we'd like to apologize for our actions in Africa." Kowalczyk told him, a look of remorse plastered on his face. "We were not operating with the most accurate intel at the time, and we understand if there is any distrust in us."
"Distrust is an understatement," Snake muttered, but it ultimately went unheard.
"For that, we are willing to pay for the damages incurred against your forces." Kowalczyk continued, with Snake taking a quick puff from his cigar.
"However, I also come bearing business."
That left Snake intrigued for a moment.
"What's the offer?" Snake asked him, as the diplomat moved to the other side of the room. Once there a screen lit up behind him with several maps being present, along with a mugshot.
"As of recently, Europe has been plagued by a large human trafficking organization. We've managed to pinpoint what we assume to be their base."
The screen zoomed in on the eastern border of Belarus, where it focused on a lone city. It zoomed in further, bringing a large skyscraper into view. Standing over fifteen stories tall, a large logo was present on the outskirt. The logo was of a white top hat and a camera, informing Snake it was of some kind of media company.
"Why do you need us then?" Snake asked inquisitively, "If you already have their location, then why can't your heroes do it?"
And that was a question in and of itself. Snake had seen the reports the MSF had on Poland's heroes. Around sixty percent of the MSF's casualties in those three days were from the Poles. So they weren't lacking in capable manpower, something that was proven correct as Kowalczyk went on.
"It's like I said, we assume it's their base but were not entirely sure. And none of my higher-ups want to risk something going wrong with a massive raid, as officially, our neighbors claim this organization doesn't exist." Kowalczyk replied calmly, his foot slowly tapping on the floor.
"Which is why you want me." Snake surmised before taking a puff on his cigar.
"Precisely." Kowalczyk told him, "You'll sneak in, confirm what our intel has been suggesting, where we'll swoop in to arrest them."
"What I am is the fall guy in this plan," Snake muttered, this time being heard by the diplomat.
"I assure you that is not our intention."
"Then do it yourselves. I'm not putting my men's lives at risk, over something your forces are capable of doing. That is unless you're leaving something out?" Snake remarked accusingly, to which the calm demeanor Kowalczyk held faltered slightly. That only confirmed his suspicion, but still left out the why.
"We can't," Kowalczyk replied switching the screen to a new slide, "My superiors were hoping to keep this in the dark, however, this seems to be our last card. The President's daughter was kidnapped about a week ago on a camping trip. Our intelligence service had an unknown mole, and orchestrated the kidnapping as to dissuade us."
The new slide held dashcam footage of the incident, somewhere in a large forest. with the security escorting the President's daughter being gunned down by an unknown force. The road had been barricaded by a semi, with a dozen cars effectively trapping the security. A helicopter then arrived, where the President's daughter was grabbed and shoved inside. It was a coordinated effort, one that required inside knowledge.
"Officially this meeting never happened. As of right now, the only people who know of this are the people in this room and the President. It's unknown but heavily implied that any action taken by our government will be met with her death. This was the President's last option."
Snake thought it over for a moment. Nothing about this deal seemed right. There were still far too many holes in the information he had been given. If Kowalczyk was telling the truth, then he had to do something, but he couldn't be sure. Yet a small part of him nagged away. There were always missions he'd taken, where things were left out. That hadn't stopped him before.
"This organization have a name?" Snake asked, before removing the burnt ash from his cigar. Kowalczyk looked at him somewhat pleased, before changing it over to the final slide.
"They call themselves The Showstoppers."
"You know Midoriya isn't my first name, right?" Midoriya asked Rody, as the two took turns batting. It was a relatively calm day, so the batting cages on Mother Base's residential platforms were empty.
"It's not?" Rody asked surprised. He looked back over at Midoriya before narrowly dodging a baseball. Deciding he wanted his head intact, he stepped off to the side with Midoriya walking up to take his place. Assuming his position, Midoriya replied, "Yeah. You've been calling me my last name all this time, yet we've known each other for years. I thought it was a bit strange."
"Really? Wait what's your first name then?"
"... Rody, if you thought Midoriya was my first name, what did you think my last name was?"
Rody remained silent then, attempting to remain stone-faced. However, Pina gave away his true thoughts, the bird resting on his shoulder with an embarrassed look.
"Heh, I uh, don't remember…"
"To think you're my best friend," Midoriya muttered, with a small smile on his face. The pitching machine threw a ball then, with Midoriya quickly taking a swing. A loud crack echoed as the bat hit the ball, with the two boys watching it fly away. It veered to the right, and slightly dropped off at the out of bounds.
"Yes!" Rody cheered, as Midoriya fished out a five-dollar bill. A punishment for the game they were playing. For this was not simple batting practice. No this had rules. Any ball that went out of bounds meant five dollars to the other. A home run meant the other would have to dress in a chicken costume for a day, anything on the field was fine, and failing to hit the ball got a punch to the face.
A fact Rody "conveniently" forgot. Midoriya didn't, however. So as Rody began counting over his previous earnings, Midoriya slugged him across the face.
"Ow! I was hoping you wouldn't notice." Rody told him, rubbing his cheek, something Pina mimicked. Midoriya simply snickered as Rody stepped up to bat.
"Hey rules are rules," Midoriya replied, watching as the machine launched another ball. In one swift motion, Rody swung the bat. It hit the ball loudly and launched it back. This one veered off to the left instead, where it landed on the field. It was inbounds so Rody stepped back, allowing Midoriya to step up.
"Ok, but if your first name isn't Midoriya, then what is it?" Rody asked as Midoriya put in a few practice swings.
"It's Izuku," Midoriya told him before the machine launched the next ball.
"You could have corrected me you know," Rody pointed out, with Pina nodding.
"I guess," Midoriya replied, all the while he watched the ball fly off. It landed in the middle of the field, with no punishment happening. He stepped back then, allowing Rody to step forward yet again.
"This one's a home run, I can feel it," Rody commented, to which Midoriya chuckled.
"If it is I'll wear the chicken costume for a week," Midoriya replied. The determination that appeared on Rody's face, instantly told him he made a mistake. The machine launched a ball forward, and Rody rocketed the bat forward. The collision echoed around them before the ball went flying back. Victorious Rody looked back over smugly, as Midoriya looked on in abject horror. With only one word leaving his mouth.
"...Fuck"
The Broker didn't have enough alcohol for this, something Miller agreed with.
"So, what do you think?" his friend asked, ignoring the Broker's ghostly white face. It was Miller who voiced the man's thoughts properly.
"How the fuck do you keep doing this?"
Behind him, was a Ticonderoga class cruiser. And enough missiles to level a mountain. And today had been such a nice day for him. He'd sold the MSF some F-22s, some AH-1Zs, a couple of V-22s, and even some MQ-9s. All in all, it brought him a steady profit. Or so he thought as he stared down the behemoth in front of him.
"I mean it was super easy, barely an inconvenience." his friend replied, as he gestured around at the large vessel. As if to somehow further his point.
"That doesn't explain how though," Miller replied tiredly. The Broker for his part had simply walked away, now banging his head on a street light near the dock. He could see the numbers for how expensive this was going to be. To which his friend decided to kill him further.
"I mean it was easier than the submarines."
"Submarines!?" the Broker cried out in hysteric anguish. Forget him not having enough alcohol, the world didn't have enough alcohol. A point his dear friend had missed.
"Yeah, I managed to nab two of them. They were Virginias if I'm right."
That brought another pained yell out of The Broker. It also led Miller to take off his sunglasses, before bringing his hand to his face.
"You mind if I?" Miller asked the Broker.
"Just fucking take them. I'm not paying for this shit again."