>Rainbow Headquarters, Hereford, United Kingdom
Outside held a cold and brisk sight, a fog rolled inwards to foreshadow the future of glumness and unclear fates, yet all was quite so different within a separate compound located within the notorious SAS's home. However, this time it was not the usual. The training rooms remained empty, and the arsenal grew lonely of its lack of presence. The dormitories were surprisingly uneventful whilst the boardroom only held Six to study papers of her own. Transportation helicopters weren't yet departed. No man nor woman had left the vicinity of their walls, but had instead ascended to the upper layer of their Headquarters. Why, specifically, that area, one might ask? It was a time of celebration, or at least good-will, towards their current successes and progression throughout the campaign against the White Masks and other terror organisations. Sure, Team Rainbow had their ups and downs throughout these two years, but they had achieved a lot that no one else could. That, in itself, was more than enough to call a drink upon.
The department only known as the Composure Department held a fully functional bar, with several tables, chairs, small-time entertainment, pool-tables and etc. It was mostly what you'd expect to find in a regular bar, just hidden inside of a unpublished United Kingdom Special Forces Headquarters. No one could argue against it, even those who didn't drink alcoholic beverages. These fine men and women had earned every drop they could treat themselves to, and they never enjoyed themselves with such leisure on a regular basis with the knowledge of keeping training and practice up.
This time, the entire collection was there. The ranks of the entire force and bulk of Rainbow itself. At the seat closest to the bar, sat a very hyperactive Elias. He hadn't had access to this sort of celebration in a while, and it was the perfect opportunity to crack his humour to everyone without being yelled at in the field. In fact, he was given the chance to run the bar for the evening event, which came to a major surprise to himself. Beside him was a less excited Sébastien. Ranking up in the next order, there was Marius, Timur, Julien, Eliza, Masaru, Yumiko, Jordon, Vicente, Jack, Mike, James, Elena, Monika, Craig, Meghan, Dominic, Emmanuelle, Frankie, Gilles, Miles, Seamus, Ryad, Taina, Gustave, Tina, Harold, Alexandr, Mark, Maxim and Shuhrat. They needed to slide all of the tables together to fit one another down.
Most had beverages of light alcohol components to buzz their celebration to a more relaxing state, whilst those who didn't drink had plenty of mixed juices and beverages to satisfy their own needs. Most made small-take to each other, and laughing from the deepest voices would merge amongst the drawn out stories of other veterans sat around. But it didn't take long for the chatter to die down, as one individual stood up, glass in hand. With a roughened smile purged onto his lips, Gustave got to his legs and called out to the rest of his brothers and sisters in arms.
"I'd like for us to all simmer down. Yes...Yes...That includes you James." Once the room was fully quiet, he broke his own created silence. "I'd think it is about time that we all said a few words, as this is an evening for all of us to come together, rather than one for us to have as individuals. As one group, under many others, I'd be happy to share my thoughts with you all. Personally, I'd like to thank Elias, who of course was the whiney bastard who both begged for a restock in refreshments, as well as for us to have this get-together in the first place. Secondly, I'd like to give my gratitude to you all, for being here for all of us, as well as the world in their time of need. We work together well as one, and serve together as one."
He raised his glass, and the table did so too, all taking a drink in gratitude, before congratulating Gustave for his beginning words to say. It began to go around the table, one by one, they would stand up, and say a few words, some more than others, before they would sit back down. Some said interesting things, some said comical one-liners. Others spouted deep emotions and gratitude towards their time serving with these fine gentlemen and women.
"I am sat here, after reflecting my life. I trained as an operator of my country. I swam through pigs blood. I underwent torture preparations and extensive experience throughout years on the battlefield. And yet, I'm sat here on my arse drinking around a group of people who did the same, whilst fighting off terror all in one go. Wonderful life we have, to say the least, and I raise another drink to our progress."
By the time more and more spoke, it eventually reached Frankie. Frankie wasn't an overall operator, as such, more of a reserve for the overhaul of terror strikes happening worldwide. For he, actually, was in-charge of ensuring the equipment of all operators were in tip-top condition for when they needed to head out. This allowed him to gain access and much needed knowledge to begin his own creations. Though this was the case, he was not fully alike these brave individuals. He'd gone through the training, and still remained training alongside them, but was barely involved in activities like such. The special occasion was a large event for the Team, and it'd be wise to involve himself in it.
"Uhh...Yes, hello. Frankie here. The guy who fixes all of your stuff because apparently you can't keep it in the same way I left it. I'd, well...obviously I'm doing this under my own will, but to say at a minimum...I'm glad for your service, even if I can't follow you into the field just yet. Not only have you allowed me to extend my own interests, but you've kept families safe, and those in need in the havens of safety. So...Again, I'll raise my glass to you...Oh, and I promise I'll be ready as an Operator too soon...I should be done with my tool soon."
Receiving an interrupting, yet welcomed, remark from James, the laughter built up again. Upon sitting down, his close-friend, Emmanuelle, sat beside him whispered about her excitement to see what he'd been hyping everyone up about for the past few months. It was at least warming to see that he was being welcomed, along with Harold, a reserve much like himself but within a different and more involved position, into Team Rainbow as what he intended on becoming. Finally, these people were to also become his comrades, in at least a few week's time...
A quiet Composure Department held a few, silent figures. There were barely ten of them, less in fact. They sat, around a table of photos and files reminding one another of the painful loss that had succumb to all of those within Team Rainbow. At least all of those who were still left...
Photos of posing, training sessions, downtime laughter and Operation successes scattered like the reality they were facing, a break in a part of them all. The fragments stared right back at them, as if they were still watching. But they weren't. They were only photos. Many of the world would never know of the losses that had tipped the balance of this secret war; they would not hear of the disappearances of heroes and heroines that had served them for two years, and beyond. These were dark days, and the smiles and cheers were a thing of the past. Vegas had claimed Rainbow once more, much like it did in the past. It had torn through the glory days of Bishop's command, and now it had ridden the morale of Six's.
The German Operator, who until now had been relatively quiet, only speaking up every now and again or raising a glass, finally stood up, combat boots scraping across the floor. He indicated for a bottle to be slid towards him, and he was obliged, tipping out the dredges of the last bottle of vodka the group had. He sighed and drank it down quickly, letting the alcohol run through him, and he cleared his throat.
"We... Well. We've come a long way. We've lost friends. No, more than friends. Brothers, sisters, rivals... And some who were more than friends to us." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply, the brave dead that had perished at Vegas. Carefully, he picked up two pictures. One was of all of the GSG9 operatives shortly after the selection process for Team Rainbow, Bandit hefting his CED and IQ goofily posing with her Spectre like it was a phone taking a selfie, the other at the picture of Ryad Al-Hassar, the Spaniard shown standing next to Harold himself, both of them holding a beer. That had been after the Ibiza mission and they had been given leave time on the island. He sighed deeply and cleared his throat, placing his empty glass top-down on the table.
"I think, before we all depart, we should just... Well..." He spiked up his courage, and broke the solitary silence. He knew what needed to be said...
"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our Brave men dead;
When the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews.
Summon up the blood.
Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage;
Now, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit high.
On, on, you noblest men.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more..."
