A series of short oneshots about the shenanigans in Mother Base. Not to be taken seriously...
Everyday Life in Mother Base ♥~ (Metal Gear)
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A series of short oneshots about the shenanigans in Mother Base. Not to be taken seriously.
SPOILERS FOR MGSV
---
Oleg, better known as Weeping Wallaby to his comrades in Diamond Dogs, sighed as he snuffed out his cigarette. Diamond Dogs was quickly growing into a famous PMC now that Big Boss had come to take his rightful place as its leader. Unfortunately, that meant a lot of competition for a limited amount of slots.
Wallaby had been a former patrolmen stationed in the middle of some bumfuck guard post in Afghanistan until he'd had the luck to be strapped into a Fulton recovery device and rocketed off to join Diamond Dogs. His family had all died years ago and to be honest, he'd been treated like garbage by the Red Army so he'd had no real reason to refuse joining the group. It had been a glorious first few weeks until…
Christ he felt bitter. He'd been edged out on his combat assessments. It wasn't that he'd gotten worse, but rather as tales of Big Boss had spread, more and more mercenaries, that is to say extremely well-trained mercenaries had chomped at the bit to join Diamond Dogs. And a great chunk of them had been better than him. Boss wasn't so cruel as to simply ditch him (yet), but he'd been taken off the combat team and left to train with some of the others in the decks of Mother Base the soldiers informally called 'the waiting room.' Like it was a lobby in a doctor's office or something.
He contemplated lighting up another cigarette. Right as his hand lowered to the breast pocket where he kept his box, he heard someone yell "XO on deck!"
Instantly he stepped over the butt of his discarded cigarette and made sure his boot covered the entirety of it. He snapped to attention as Kazuhira Miller appeared and lurched to his corner of the deck.
"Weeping Wallaby?" Miller asked.
"Sir, yes sir!" he reported. Miller was scary. People might have questioned how a one-armed and one-footed cripple was intimidating but there was something about his demeanor that set him on edge. It reminded him of his long-dead grandfather who'd been a veteran of WWII. Crippled as Miller was, he was exceedingly dangerous.
"One of the combat teams has taken losses," Miller said bluntly. "You're back on duty. Get to the Combat Unit's main platform and report in."
"Sir? Y-yes sir!"
Miller paused. "Something you want to ask me soldier?"
"If it's alright to ask… what sort of mission, no wait, how did-"
"It was a milk run," Miller sneered before his face softened. "Or at least it was supposed to be. Resource gathering. Collecting Wormwood. The man you're replacing just had the terrible luck to step on a land mine," he sighed. "We'll hold his funeral soon and are writing his next of kin now. But as for you, report to the Combat Unit like I said. Take your time, there's no rush." Apparently finished, Miller simply turned and walked away. Discipline was an unusual thing in Diamond Dogs. Wallaby would normally have waited for a verbal dismissal had he still been in the army but with the sort of people that made Diamond Dogs' ranks, people tended to be far more lax about procedures.
Wallaby heard other troops muttering to themselves.
"Lucky bastard," was a common sentiment as were "He's dead in five weeks."
Wallaby pretended he didn't hear as his pace quickened. Maybe this wasn't the best way to earn back his place but by god he wouldn't waste it. He was so eager to report to his new post that he almost missed the sight of his commanding officer Big Boss stomp near him. He cursed himself for almost missing it before starting to salute the legend. Inwardly he noted the man seemed to be surlier than usual. Oh well. It didn't matter. Wallaby gave the crispest salute he could muster. "Boss! Welcome ba-" he stated before he caught only a flash of a red arm and everything went black.
Time passed slowly. Or perhaps quickly. It didn't matter, what was important was that Wallaby managed to grab hold of a passing star and jerked himself awake. "Unnggh," he groaned as he staggered back to wakefulness. "I guess Boss wasn't in the mood," he muttered to himself. It was then he noticed how dark it was. "Oh. Shit." He just barely managed to stop himself from yelling but instead kept it to a low but intense whisper. Not even caring about decorum he sprinted all the way to the Combat Unit before flagging down another soldier.
"Weeping Wallaby *pant pant* reporting. Where do I go to sign in?"
The unimpressed soldier stared at him. "Oh yeah, the new guy. You're late. The position's already been filled. You would have been part of my squad but a new volunteer just came in a few hours ago. Some real badass back in the old days. He used to run with the Boss back in when he ran MSF apparently."
"What!?"
"Yep. Alligator. S++ Rank in Combat. Commander Miller was quick to fill up our empty slot when he learned you didn't show up."
"What's the other part of his name? The descriptor bit. Not the animal part."
"MSF didn't have those. Just the animal name. He's getting grandfathered in."
"But that's not fair! I- Boss- He just-"
"What about the Boss?"
"I… Commander Miller said I could take my time," Wallaby said weakly fully aware of how his stock was sinking by the second. The other soldier's eyes grew colder. Before he could be torn apart, Wallaby dismissed himself.
'I'm doomed to stay in the Waiting Room forever,' he thought darkly. Once he get back to where he normally spent his time, he noticed a few other soldiers. "Back already?" they asked.
"I got edged out," he said, studiously ignoring the money changing hands.
"Ah," one of the others said. He didn't sound very sympathetic. "Well we're all trying to kill time now. I've heard Commander Miller is going to start up seminars for us to attend like we're back in school or something. You want to pick some out? They start in a few weeks. That should get your mind off things," he offered.
Wallaby nodded and was handed a sheet of paper. Advanced Combat Tactics. Learning New Languages: An Introduction to Afrikaans and Kikongo. Common Radio Encryptions and Decryptions. So on and so forth. He made his decision before giving back the sheet.
Wallaby tried to pump himself up. So what if today had sucked? Tomorrow was another day, and the day after another chance to prove himself. Things would get better. He just knew it.
---
SPOILERS FOR MGSV
---
Oleg, better known as Weeping Wallaby to his comrades in Diamond Dogs, sighed as he snuffed out his cigarette. Diamond Dogs was quickly growing into a famous PMC now that Big Boss had come to take his rightful place as its leader. Unfortunately, that meant a lot of competition for a limited amount of slots.
Wallaby had been a former patrolmen stationed in the middle of some bumfuck guard post in Afghanistan until he'd had the luck to be strapped into a Fulton recovery device and rocketed off to join Diamond Dogs. His family had all died years ago and to be honest, he'd been treated like garbage by the Red Army so he'd had no real reason to refuse joining the group. It had been a glorious first few weeks until…
Christ he felt bitter. He'd been edged out on his combat assessments. It wasn't that he'd gotten worse, but rather as tales of Big Boss had spread, more and more mercenaries, that is to say extremely well-trained mercenaries had chomped at the bit to join Diamond Dogs. And a great chunk of them had been better than him. Boss wasn't so cruel as to simply ditch him (yet), but he'd been taken off the combat team and left to train with some of the others in the decks of Mother Base the soldiers informally called 'the waiting room.' Like it was a lobby in a doctor's office or something.
He contemplated lighting up another cigarette. Right as his hand lowered to the breast pocket where he kept his box, he heard someone yell "XO on deck!"
Instantly he stepped over the butt of his discarded cigarette and made sure his boot covered the entirety of it. He snapped to attention as Kazuhira Miller appeared and lurched to his corner of the deck.
"Weeping Wallaby?" Miller asked.
"Sir, yes sir!" he reported. Miller was scary. People might have questioned how a one-armed and one-footed cripple was intimidating but there was something about his demeanor that set him on edge. It reminded him of his long-dead grandfather who'd been a veteran of WWII. Crippled as Miller was, he was exceedingly dangerous.
"One of the combat teams has taken losses," Miller said bluntly. "You're back on duty. Get to the Combat Unit's main platform and report in."
"Sir? Y-yes sir!"
Miller paused. "Something you want to ask me soldier?"
"If it's alright to ask… what sort of mission, no wait, how did-"
"It was a milk run," Miller sneered before his face softened. "Or at least it was supposed to be. Resource gathering. Collecting Wormwood. The man you're replacing just had the terrible luck to step on a land mine," he sighed. "We'll hold his funeral soon and are writing his next of kin now. But as for you, report to the Combat Unit like I said. Take your time, there's no rush." Apparently finished, Miller simply turned and walked away. Discipline was an unusual thing in Diamond Dogs. Wallaby would normally have waited for a verbal dismissal had he still been in the army but with the sort of people that made Diamond Dogs' ranks, people tended to be far more lax about procedures.
Wallaby heard other troops muttering to themselves.
"Lucky bastard," was a common sentiment as were "He's dead in five weeks."
Wallaby pretended he didn't hear as his pace quickened. Maybe this wasn't the best way to earn back his place but by god he wouldn't waste it. He was so eager to report to his new post that he almost missed the sight of his commanding officer Big Boss stomp near him. He cursed himself for almost missing it before starting to salute the legend. Inwardly he noted the man seemed to be surlier than usual. Oh well. It didn't matter. Wallaby gave the crispest salute he could muster. "Boss! Welcome ba-" he stated before he caught only a flash of a red arm and everything went black.
Time passed slowly. Or perhaps quickly. It didn't matter, what was important was that Wallaby managed to grab hold of a passing star and jerked himself awake. "Unnggh," he groaned as he staggered back to wakefulness. "I guess Boss wasn't in the mood," he muttered to himself. It was then he noticed how dark it was. "Oh. Shit." He just barely managed to stop himself from yelling but instead kept it to a low but intense whisper. Not even caring about decorum he sprinted all the way to the Combat Unit before flagging down another soldier.
"Weeping Wallaby *pant pant* reporting. Where do I go to sign in?"
The unimpressed soldier stared at him. "Oh yeah, the new guy. You're late. The position's already been filled. You would have been part of my squad but a new volunteer just came in a few hours ago. Some real badass back in the old days. He used to run with the Boss back in when he ran MSF apparently."
"What!?"
"Yep. Alligator. S++ Rank in Combat. Commander Miller was quick to fill up our empty slot when he learned you didn't show up."
"What's the other part of his name? The descriptor bit. Not the animal part."
"MSF didn't have those. Just the animal name. He's getting grandfathered in."
"But that's not fair! I- Boss- He just-"
"What about the Boss?"
"I… Commander Miller said I could take my time," Wallaby said weakly fully aware of how his stock was sinking by the second. The other soldier's eyes grew colder. Before he could be torn apart, Wallaby dismissed himself.
'I'm doomed to stay in the Waiting Room forever,' he thought darkly. Once he get back to where he normally spent his time, he noticed a few other soldiers. "Back already?" they asked.
"I got edged out," he said, studiously ignoring the money changing hands.
"Ah," one of the others said. He didn't sound very sympathetic. "Well we're all trying to kill time now. I've heard Commander Miller is going to start up seminars for us to attend like we're back in school or something. You want to pick some out? They start in a few weeks. That should get your mind off things," he offered.
Wallaby nodded and was handed a sheet of paper. Advanced Combat Tactics. Learning New Languages: An Introduction to Afrikaans and Kikongo. Common Radio Encryptions and Decryptions. So on and so forth. He made his decision before giving back the sheet.
Wallaby tried to pump himself up. So what if today had sucked? Tomorrow was another day, and the day after another chance to prove himself. Things would get better. He just knew it.
---
