"...Miss Pavlovna….Miss Pavlona?" The words that seemed so far and distant got closer and closer each time they were spoken, eventually getting so near that it finally roused her up from her sleep, as if a sudden gust of wind were to blow against a tree.
"..." She said nothing amidst the drogginess, merely eyeing the man in front of her.
Yes, the man in front of her. Behind her cell's door, the man stood tall, a look of stoicism on his face as he looked at her with a perceived indifference. If anything, a hint of distaste could be barely found if one focused hard enough on his features. But no, now was not the time nor place for that.
Straightening herself up, the man unlocked the door and spoke in slow, but coherent Russian.
"New orders. You, Relocate. I, Take, You" He said as he gestured her out, with Sofiya standing up and exciting her cell. Unsure of what was going on, and choosing to merely wait this out. Instead of just causing a fuss and risking herself getting shot.
With a nod of her head, the man grunts and starts leading her out of the room. But not before the most subtle of shakes could be heard, shakes that, from someone of her profession, could only come from an explosion.
A thought. An act. A chance.
Sofiya was not a gambling woman, she never was. But this was it. It was only logical to think so. What could cause that explosion if not a fight? What would cause a fight if not for her? If not for her, then it was certainly for this position on the map. Sooner or later, she would surely run into Red army forces either way.
"...I'm sorry." Was what she said before the man saw nothing, and inevitably descended into nothingness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Humans are a simple lot.
And yet, they are complex.
When asked a question, they will use all the knowledge that they've accumulated in life that is relevant and relates to said problem to solve the problem.
Contrary to popular belief everybody is smart.
Yes, even the stupid ones.
For example, if you become familiar with a piece of media, you will be able to get the meaning of something from said media if you looked at perhaps a poster or something that belonged to the very thing you were familiar with.
Everybody knows something, and yet everybodys knows nothing.
It's somehow a deep yet stupid statement.
How so?
Simple, it's so obvious.
If everyone knew anything, then we wouldn't have this useless notion called war.
Humans are flawed.
We're not perfect, we never will be perfect.
I've always known this, no scratch that, everybody knows this.
We're just too petty as a race to acknowledge it out loud.
We're petty as hell.
We're stupid as hell.
We're ignorant as hell.
My thoughts were only reinforced as I leafed through the folder, not understanding any of the languages on the file, yet knowing enough, JUST BARELY enough English and the geography of Afghanistan to get the gist of things.
There is a list of targets.
Many locations, with circles over them.
And many more with X's covering them.
Through it all, the words seemingly nonsensical, I found the one that made the least sense of all.
ARCHANGEL RAPHAEL.
Now what could an Angel from the bible be doing in a list of targets?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sofiya Pavlovna was a Fighter. How couldn't she be? She had been fighting for years at this point. She was no stranger to bloodshed. Even more to tough spots. If one were to ask her for body count, she would politely say 0. Because the beasts that she killed couldn't be considered men.
No, if anything, they were brainwashed mutts that killed anyone that they disagreed with. They did whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, regardless of consequence. For a woman with a strong conscience, the sights of the aftermath of their actions only hardened her resolve to fight.
She may be in this foreign land, killing and fighting, but that won't mean that she will fight without rhyme or reason. Her daddy always said after all, that
"Morality is of the highest importance- but for us, not for god."
She muttered softly as she gunned another man down with a pistol that she had looted from an enemy body.
!
How strange. Why is she thinking of her father now, and here of all places?
…
"...Shit." She said after a moment's realization.
"My horse is gone." She uttered softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I stood still at the sight before my eyes. A realization flares up in my mind as I grip the folder, not caring about wrinkling the damn thing anymore as I hold bag the reflexive urge to gag in disgust. In front of me stood two cases, one well kept and clean whilst one looked dirty and not worked on at all whatsoever.
The radioactive sign gave way to the fact that the missiles behind this glass were nuclear missiles.
…
…
...
"Kuso."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The battlefield is a wide place. Just as often as you run into enemies, you're also just as likely to run into comrades. That's one of the many things that Sofiya Pavlovna had learned during her time in Afghanistan.
Bam!
The enemy that was in front of her was now dead, his life gone as she saw the very reassuring and comforting image of her comrade behind the area that the body of the man who once stood covered.
"Boris! About time you came!"
"Sorry for the wait Kapitan, we were...inconvenienced."
"Ah! And Menshikov, and Puskov as well!"
"The rest of the men are rushing to our location post haste."
"We just penetrated the enemy lines, not BROKE them, we'll have to fight our way back out."
"And when have we not ever done that?" Sofiya asked with a soft smile.
"Even after being separated for so long, you still have yet to change I see."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean Puskov? It's only been a couple of days, and besides, when were you the type to take a piss outta me?"
"...Huh, You are right, when have I-"
BOOM.
"I'm sorry, but we can surely save the chit chat for later eh? I'm not your guy's dad or anything, but we should probably, you know, go."
"You to Menshikov? Hah, everyone's seemed to have found their funny bone whilst I was gone."
"On your call Kapitan."
"Yeah yeah Boris...Men, MOVE OUT!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coercion, the act of being forced to do something against your will. A word that I'm more than familiar with. Hell, this whole damn farce is nothing but an act of coercion from god!...Yes, Coercion...I fucking hate my life.
If I don't do anything, then you bet your ass that I'll never get so much as a wink of sleep, seeing what was in front of my eyes and doing nothing. And if I do do something, I might very well die. Something that I've been trying to... avoid. Ah, who am I kidding? I don't suppose I really care that much anymore. Don't seem to have enough energy for shit like that anymore.
I'm not a fool, I could read the situation just by looking. Hell, I prided myself over shit like that back when I was still back home. Anyone with half a brain can piece together information with enough context.
...So, that's why I'm in my current predicament now. If I do something, I become even more of a husk of what little of what was my former self...Hah, who am I kidding, I was and will always be the same pathetic little sack of shit that I am.
And if I do nothing? I might as well stare down the barrel of my pistol...Why do I even try anymore?
The distant echoes of gunfire resounded faraway in this...complex. Judging by their sounds, it's probably from a distance. Great, more time for me to ponder on this debacle!
Scratch that, not great. Time is of the fucking essence, and if I don't act, then shit will most certainly go down.
I wanted so much, so desperately to forget the sight before my eyes. To just make my way to that woman and to finish this, all of this already...But I can't. I mean, I was raised better than this god's sake! I most certainly have a conscience...or what little that was left...No who am I kidding? Who, Me? Conscience? I'm sorry the stand up comedy show is down the block. No.The thing that's forcing me to do what I'm about to do next isn't my conscience, it's my memory of Life. Back when things had a semblance of stability. Of a normalcy in which a peace existed, a peace that supported Riajus and Societal norms that were merciless on the one ones that didn't fit in, the outcasts and outsiders. A society that supported cliques of hierarchy...a...hell.
Hah.
...How Ironic, the one thing that is forcing me to go into a new hell, is the same hell that I was already in. But, can I really say that that hell of my past was that bad? No matter what I had against my past, it was...well, a hell of alot better than this.
A hell in which I got shot at constantly.
A hell in which I have to fight just for the hell known as living.
A hell in which I was forced to work with people I hated just for the chance to live and go home.
A hell in which I am forced to fight and see death in my sleep.
A hell in which death would be just way more easier to deal with than living.
With a heavy sigh, and a trembling hand, I picked up the walkie talkie that my makeshift unreliable snake of an ally gave me and turned it on. My eyes never leave the file that I had before me. Honestly, I didn't know much, but I had a hunch. And if I had learned anything, ANYTHING in this hell hole? It's to always stick to your gut.
I can only pray to god that what I'm about to say is to be refuted by an incredulous reply, a chuckle of disbelief and a reassurance that I'm wrong, ridiculously wrong. To be teased and to be asked what I'm smoking as the Americans would say.
"American?" I ask in a low tone, a result of both exhaustion and tension.
"...Yes?" The voice cackled after a second or two, making me even dread even more what I was to say.
"...Hello? Anyone there?" The CIA agent asked after a moment of silence, my silence.
"Is this a prank-"
"There is more than one nuke."
"...." Silence. The voice that cackled over the line was silent now.
Please, PLEASE! Tell me I'm wrong, say something, anything, that proves me wrong…. I'm begging you man… please.
"...Listen here, how many?" The voice replied in a low, serious tone. Low enough to be a growl even. A growl of desperation and dread, that only invoked more of my fears.
Im not stupid. I can piece together things quite well, all I need is time, and some visual cues to piece things together.
This area in which the woman's unit was assigned to attack? This underground complex? The Americans and the Afghani's desperation to get her back and help us? US of all people to do so? The amount of men in this goddamn valley? The foreign personnel?
Like I said, i'm not stupid. I've seen so many movies with overused plots like this, so much so that I can spot a cliche like that the moment I see the title. I just… I just didn't want to believe it. I was convincing myself that there was no way, no WAY in hell that something like this would ever happen.
...But, here we are. And I'm stuck right in the middle of it. A Hell borne out of a desert Hellhole. How funny. Out one Hell, into Another, and then finally into another Hell. That's three Hells people, Jesus fucking Christ, God really fucking hates me doesn't he?
"HOW MANY?" The voice rang out once more, this time even more desperate than before.
"2."
"..." Heavy breathing and sighs could be heard now as I can envision the guy's face, no doubt twisted in agony and despair along with a hint of desperation
"...They play you. Have...American plane. Want a Russian plane… many targets on file… only two planes, only 2 Nukes." I say with a distaste in my mouth, a hatred, jaded distaste of the situation is an understatement. If anything, I've half a mind to break open the glass the contained the missiles and just, in the immortal words of my dumb and foolish kinsmen ages past, Go Kamikaze on the foe.
"...The main target, what's the main target? The one most typed in the file? The biggest mark! You gotta tell me-"
BANG
A loud noise that could only come from a gun resounded loud in the complex. And a searing white pain that could only come from a gun resounded in my body. Causing me to drop the walkie talkie as my legs gave out and I once more in the same month mind you, get shot.
"What-"
BANG.
A second shot, this time destroying the walkie talkie.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Loud, bold confident footsteps resounded throughout the complex as the perpetrator walked increasingly in my direction.
"Now, Now, we can't have you ruining the surprise now do we?" The voice said mockingly in Russian.
I say nothing as the pain fills my body, well not like I could have said anything really. What is there to say? I don't know this person, and I was never the type to say something cheesy and over dramatic like a protagonist in a manga or an anime.
"Oh? You're the tough silent type? Well, not like that matters, you are quite simply going to die~" The man says with a note of glee in his voice, the sick fuck.
RUMBLE.
Another explosion, this time more powerful than the one before, key word, powerful. This one caused the man to shift slightly the millisecond before he pulled the trigger, meaning that his aim was thrown off.
A clang, a curse and a second later a rumbling could be heard. Not of the explosive kind mind you, but instead, the rumbling when you click the button to open up a secret doorway kind of rumbling.
And right before my very eyes something appeared. Scratch that. A fucking ball of scrap metal appeared.. Hah?
"Oh? Could this be Allah's way of telling me not to kill you? Hah, quite ironic isn't it? The beast getting saved by Allah~"
"Youre...fucking insane." I managed to utter out as I looked up at him with disdain.
"Oh? It looks like you still have some fight in you after all? Hah! As expected of the beast that shall bring ruin onto mankind!" The psycho exclaims euphorically, pissing me off even more.
"Very well, I shall respect the wishes of Allah, but not before this little test~" He says as he starts walking to the scrap metal ball. His hands pulled out a wooden carving of a horse. A smile and a cheerful upon his face the whole time as he walked.
Wait, a horse?
"What does that woman have to do with this?" I ask out of rage, even far away, that bitch is still causing me so many damn problems!
"Hoh? You know Sofiya Pavlovna? Heh, small world~"
"Answer me."
"Now Now, No need to get hissy. You'll figure it out...If you live of course~" The man exclaimed with a devilish grin as looked once more at the wooden horse that was the woman's laughing as he inputted some sort of code onto an iron scrap ball of junk.
Then, the ball started to whir, a faint humming and an even fainter glow as the ball began to take life. Before violently and suddenly, bits and pieces...no, it would be more suffice to say that parts of it were suddenly bursting from its body, at first hanging limp before explosively and mechinally automatically locking into place.
And by the end of it all, It sported two metallic wings seemingly made of silver, yet so intricate as I could see the notches and carvings for each and every single individual feather on the iron wings.
Next was the Halo, in which a purple light imbued the damn thing, giving off a feeling of heat and irritation from me as even in my current, it looked pretty gaudy. No scratch that, it's not giving off a feeling, it's literally releasing heat. Great, More heat in the fucking desert,
And the final thing, the four arms that sprouted from its body. With each side, left and right having a total of two arms. One atop each other With even 10 metallic fingers on each hand.
"A majestic sight isn't it?"
"He is called Israfil the archangel, the one who blows the trumpet to signal the end times. Raphael to you Russians."
"Magnificent as one of Allah's creations brought to life by man isn't it?"
"Ah, but you're wondering how it was even made huh?"
"Well no worries, I'm in a good mood today, so I shall indulge you in this little tidbit of knowledge~"
"You see, it all starts with a woman you see, such as the way these things tend to start."
"East Germany had few talented scientists, you see. But there was one particular scientist that was talented above all, a natural born genius. Then one day he met a woman. Fell in love and seemingly abandoned his pursuits to run off with her. To Russia no less!"
"Foolish thing, love is. The man had abandoned his projects, but yet he still was a genius that the state desired. A genius that could help them with a secret project. A project that could revolutionize the way warfare was fought, and could make Russia the sole power that the world listened to, A project that would make America bow~! Can you believe~?"
"And this holy creation was the product of said project! I won't bore you with the little details of course, The only thing that is important is that it's here, and for the first 20 years, it shall breathe for the first time. And it shall slay the Beast itself as its first Righteous Killing! Oh! What joy I shall feel when I watch it~"
"...You're insane."
"Ah ah ah! You already said it, what's the matter? Gone senile already?"
"...But then again who else isn't?" I asked quietly to myself, as I forced myself off ground, my wound gaping wide as blood still poured from out of it. Leaning my self against a nearby crate.
The man's eyes narrowed in interest as he looked at me with a joyous smile.
"Oh hoh! Now I'm really impressed, you really are deserving of the title of the beast~!"
"Very well, as a reward, ill tell you one more tiny tidbit~! You see, the KGB actually-"
SLICE.
The man's head soon flew off his shoulders as a blade of energy seemingly formed from the hands of the robot cut it off.
"PROTOTYPE 000.1 ARCHANGELUS RAPHAEL HAS AWAKENED. COMMENCING PROTOCOL 000 ELIMINATING ALL HUMANS IN THE NEARBY VICINITY."
The machine then turned to me, all 4 of its arms forming blades of pure unadulterated energy in each of it's 4 hands. It looked stupid, but it looked like I would very possibly die here.
Sigh.
…
"As expected, my life is so wrong."
~Season 1 end~