Roberta looked at Boris who stood in front of her…Or should she say looked past? She gave him a vacant stare, her eyes wandering everywhere around the room as she noted all of the armed men that shared the room with her. Her tight grip on the handle case not once loosening up as the young master stood in front of her. Speaking with Boris on her behalf…no, who was she kidding, he was down right arguing with the older man. Something that tugged at her heart in these desperate times.
"Like i've said, WE are all going home, and no amount of money, no amount of favors, NOTHING will change that!"
"...Look, with all due respect mr. Lovelace I just need her for one task. A task in which she is no doubt highly suited for. If all goes well, then she'll be back in at the very most a day or two."
"Again, NO!"
"..You'll be highly paid in exchange-"
"You don't get it do you? It's not about the money, it never was! Now that I've finally managed to get her back, I'm going home. It was a miracle that she didn't suffer any heavy wounds in her dangerous endeavor and now you want her to go back into the Jungle? All to find one dude from your past? Are you mad? What type of drugs are you smoking man?"
"..." Boris held his silence at this for just a moment, before turning to look at the table behind him. More specifically, the flower vase that held a single white flower.
Nodding his head at head at Garcia, he urged him to look as well before speaking.
"....That flower right there in that vase, is the daffodil, The Kapitan's most liked flower….You grow these flowers on your estate as well do you not?"
"..." Garcia falters for a moment before cautiously answering.
"...Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" He asks, gulping as he doesn't like where the conversation was going.
"...Tell me, do you know what the daffodil stands for? What it represents?" Boris asks after a pause, looking at him intently as he poses the question to the boy that stood in front of him.
"...It stands for…well, it stands for a new beginning. Why do you ask? What's your point?"
"...The Kapitan…after so long… after all those hardships finally managed to start anew…Not just by herself, but with everyone, her comrades…it is thanks to her that we are here….Thanks to her that we live in a war that never ends…our paradise."
"She went through so much…WE went through so much, just for…this. What you see here, all of our activities, what we have achieved, what we WILL achieve…it cost so much. So much blood, so much suffering, so much misery…The amount that she had to sacrifice, just to enter a world that guarantees that she will have to sacrifice even more…is astounding, if not downright absurd."
"..." Garcia says nothing now, averting Boris's gaze as his heavy words sting at his inner conscience.
"...We helped you before, now we require your help. The blood hound-...No, your maid Roberta, WE, HOTEL MOSCOW, need her help. And we need it desperately. And IF you help us. Then we will make sure that the bloodhound of florencia dies here, in this city. And that Roberta, the head maid of the Lovelace family, no matter how much she bears a strong resemblance to the bloodhound, will live a peaceful life, never again needing to pick up the rifle with bloodied hands. Never again having to hide. Never again needing to repent for her sins for they were absolved the moment that the bloodhound died in this godforsaken city…This I can guarantee you and more."
"It's still too dangerous, I refuse to lose her-"
"Young master." Roberta calmly spoke, cutting Garcia off as she stepped in front of him.
"You speak of sins, and absolution. You speak as if you know me. But you do not. I am not like you, I WILL never be like you….You wish me to hunt down the beast in the thick jungle foliage around this city. You say that I do not need to fight, that all I need to do is simply find that one man…But we all know that that is highly improbable….Monsters, demons, sinners who kill and can kill well are always coveted by everyone around them, there is a reason as to why their names continue to live on despite the decades that pass."
"And the beast? The beast is the most coveted of them all….No doubt he shall be shielded by a wall of guns and fervent followers. Followers that are very keen to impress a legend that has returned from the grave."
"...You're the only one that can do this. The only one that has the skills necessary to pull this off…but more importantly, to pull this off QUICKLY…I've read your files, I know what you can do, but more importantly, I know that you WILL do."
"Time is of the essence, every second, millisecond even, is worth its weight in pure undiluted gold. All I ask of you, is to find the camp that the beast is tucked away in, and to radio me and Hotel Moscow. After that, I GUARANTEE to you, upon my honor, that not only will you live a peaceful and safe life, but also that the Lovelace household will find itself with more riches that it would know what to do with."
"Again with that money crap! On and on about money! You really are starting to sound like a broken record now. How much do I need to repeat myself?" Cut in Garcia, his fists clenched as his tears flowed down his cheeks.
"Roberta is FAMILY. I came here to get her back, money and danger be damned! You must be real special if you think waving a fat wad of cash and a sob story will get you what you want because-"
"Young master." Roberta calmly cut him off once again as she put a hand on his shoulder, calming him down as she looked upon Boris.
After a pregnant pause, and a slow look at the crowd around them, she spoke, her eyes burning with certainty, determined to end this whole affair once and for all.
"...If…IF I do this, IF I track him down…Then what truly changes? Will you send a force to the beast's den? You're already in a precarious situation as is. And if you do send a force to the den, then there is, without a shadow of a doubt, that you must fight once more."
"..."
"It's fight, fight and fight…Don't you ever just get tired? Of all of this fighting? Of all of the doubt's within your mind? Of all the times when you looked back, and wanted to leave this cursed path that you tread on? Don't you get exhausted from it?.... I know I am."
"..."
"Of course. I'm…No, we're all exhausted you know? The Kapitan as well, but she's the only one that can get us on our feet, The one that keeps on moving. The one that keeps us from indulging the part of our minds that want to call it quits…She's our shining beacon of hope. And as long as she's alive and here with us, no path will be too difficult, no weakness shall be indulged and no man will ever stop."
"...." Roberta's mind flashed with memories of the late master. His smile, and his warm eyes. She trembled as a result, she knew what Boris felt all too well. Her heart trembled as she clenched her fists.
"Very well then… This shall be my last hunt."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Soviets advanced over and over again, regardless of the gunfire, regardless of their dead, and in their dauntless advance, a sense of desperate fear overtakes me. My hands go overtime as I move them as fast as I can, pull the trigger, pull back the bolt, repeat until out of ammo, insert another ten rounds then do it all over again.
My rifle was hot, as hot as a freshly baked potato, if not hotter. But I didn't care, I just kept up the same old rhythm. After all, I'm positioned in the very first…what do I call it? Defensive line?..Heh, that's generous, calling it that despite the massive holes that it has. My fox hole is full of spent shells, and the rocks that I've propped up as an impromptu cover have all been shredded into bits, with pieces of rock and dust covering my entire body as a result.
I'm exhausted, hot, and itchy, but I can't take my eyes off of the field in front of me, for even a millisecond. The bullets fly, and the moment you pay attention to something else, they'll fly low and get you. I've seen it happen all too many times, and I'm not gonna let that mistake bite me, not if I can help it.
Then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a soviet pops out right in front of me, a crazed look in his eyes as he looks down at me, his finger on the trigger. A crushing feeling reverberates in my heart. This is it. I'm done for. The bastard caught me off guard, and I'm gonna kick the bucket. Nothing I do, nothing I can do, will change that…I'm…dead, by the time I raise my rifle, the enemy will have put a round in my head and moved on.
And before I know it, he explodes into bits and pieces before me, with shrapnel and gore and dirt flying into the air before I hear the howling of the mortars, deafening out the sound of rifle fire as I take the chance to pull out my pistol. If they're already this close as to pounce on me, then I'm sure as hell not gonna have much of a fighting chance with a bolt action rifle. No, what I need is something semi automatic. Something with coincidently more stopping power.
Racking back the slide, I feel like an idiot as I watch the bullet escape the chamber of the pistol. Well there goes one massively needed bullet…Guess that leaves me with seven shots. Serves me right for copying down what the other militants were doing, while not fully understanding why they did so. Even now I still fully dont understand, but i'll have to make do and proceed anyways. A lesson learned…. At the cost of something so precious yet so cheap.
Out of the corner of my eye I see yet another soviet soldier run up the crest of the hill, his rifle already aimed towards me….A shame that I'm faster, much faster. The first shot hits his shoulder and I see him flinch, by the time he's screaming, a second bullet is already flying right at his face.
My attention is already focused on yet another enemy soldier. And out of the corner of my eyes, I see a lifeless corpse drop as I kill someone else, my other hand already reaching a magazine for the pistol that I held in my hands.
A bullet narrowly wizzes past my head as I reload. Panic and desperation are the only things that I feel right now as I force my shaking hands to steady themselves so that I may have a chance to survive this. My heart beats fast, my body feels heavy and I feel that at any moment my heart could very well explode, rendering my attempts to survive hopeless.
…Hopeless…Heh, that seems to be the very word to describe this situation that I find myself in. hopeless. There's no hope here, only misery and treachery…and a mountain of bodies. And any moment now, there's a huge chance that I'll end up on that mountain regardless of what I do.
I gulp as my heart beats on anxiously and as the tears start falling.
There really is no hope is there?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I frown as I inhale the tobacco smoke, not because of the tobacco itself, good heavens no! ..No, the reason as to why I have such a scowl on my face is because of the air. It's too carefree, too lax…too lazy. I never liked this kind of atmosphere even back then, and I sure as hell won't be liking it now.
The air is warm, and the sun is beginning to set, and yet…I don't feel like I'm in danger…no, agh shit, how do I say this? I don't feel a sense of urgency? No that's wrong, I urgently want to get out of here, so what is it? What the hell am I feeling?
I know that I have to…No, I AM getting out of here. And I know that I will be getting shot at, and I know that this escape will be next to impossible considering all I have is a vague direction (Which in this case being north) And I know that my situation is absolutely hopeless, and yet I'm still going to go through with this…
Why? Why am I going through with this? Every single logical thing is screaming at me to stop, to take the deal, to fight with my captors, to take the boat ride, to be a propaganda hero…to live a safe life. Hell, life itself was giving me a chance to take the easy way out. Life was giving me a break for the first time in a long time.
Now, there is still a huge chance that takenaka will shoot me once this is all done, but there's also a chance where he doesn't, hell even if he decides to, I'm fairly confident that I can sniff him out and be in Shanghai by the time he sends men after me. I'm not incompetent after all, I know how this lifestyle goes. If I'm careful and keep my head down, I WILL weather the storm.
…So why? Why don't I want to weather this storm? Why do I want to do the equivalent of a leroy jenkins right into a hail storm of bullets? Why? Why? Wh-
An image flashes through my mind.
…Ugh, of course, It has to be HER of all people.
She's persistent. I'll give her that, even defeated she still manages to wiggle herself into my head. Like some puppy that the family got even though the dad didn't even want to get it.
I don't understand her, she's so weird. First she wants to kill me, then she doesn't, then she wants to kill me, but mercifully? What did I do? What did SHE do? What exactly happened?... great, more questions that I'll never get an answer to.
…Sigh, sometimes, even though I know better than to, sometimes I wish I was back in that damned valley. I might have hated it, but life was simple. Don't get shot, kill the poor bastard that's trying to kill you, go back into the caves or tunnels or whatever and get chow. Rinse and repeat.
The burden that I bore back then was already too much. Now I have to bear this as well? I've half a mind to just give up already and resign myself to my fate…. But then again, I have a feeling that my fate isn't as set in stone as I might have thought. If I can escape death, Then I surely can get a better outcome…better than this at least.
…It's quite strange. By all accounts and technicalities, I've yet to fail in my ever so simple yet insanely difficult goal. Survive. It's so outrageously hard that I can't even laugh at the absurdity of it.
…Sigh, look at me. Rambling on and on about something so nonsensical.
Though I suppose it's only fair. Afterall, I think this is the first time in a long while that I actually had the opportunity to think about something else other than current dangers on hand. I'm safe for the next few hours…at least I think I should be. And in that safety I have the impossible task of building a boat, and sailing it over a desert wasteland.
The plan is overwhelmingly simple. Escape. Try to head east to Vietnam, then north to China, then make my way to japan. The hard part of the plan is phase one i;e the phase that i'm currently on. I can try and escape but i'm not entirely sure on how, so many ways you see? But there's just one unfortunate little thing. My body. I'm banged up, and I'm banged up real bad. I've only managed to make it this far by a combination of adrenaline and brute force. And quite frankly, I don't think I have it in me to pull off such a thing for a long while.
That means I'll try and procure a car, or a jeep somehow….See my problem? Escaping on foot would be risky enough, but a car? That's damned near impossible. Also burdened with the fact that I currently have no clue on which direction was which. And I can't exactly ask for a map either. I'm still too new, to…suspicious.
So that means that I have to steal a map, or at the very least a compass…
Sigh, I need another cigarette.
And you know the hardest thing of all? I'm starting to believe that I might just have the sliver of a chance to pull it off. After all, I managed to survive up to this far, I lived through the execution that was set up for me AND I am still technically in friendly hands…for now at least. The odds were still against me, but not as much as it was before. Now instead of a 0.0005 chance to survive, I feel that it's 0.5. A significant improvement I must say. Things are still looking bleak, but not nearly as before.
Perhaps this is what they call the feeling of victory? I'm starting to get reminded of the times back when I was at home playing monster hunting and managing to complete a perfect hunt all on my lonesome.
Tch!
Before I knew it, a small grin had popped up on my face. Crap, gotta wipe that off, can't be having any of that now. After this is all over then can I smile…Alive or not.
A nearby sound draws my attention now as I look out the window, Curiosity as well as an eagerness to plot even more harebrained schemes.
It was a small group of men, some boys in the mix, but mostly men. All of them were having some sort of…mediocre drill at best. Holding their rifles, trying their hardest to move in a uniform fashion with said rifles. As I said before, it was mediocre. Not like I particularly cared. I never was one for drilling. It didn't make much sense for me. After all, why focus on playing with a rifle when I can instead be shooting things with it? Or cleaning it? The list goes on and on, and my point is made.
Taking another drag, I might as well go out and take a better look at what they're doing. Holing up in the cabin isn't going to be of much help to me. And besides, I can use this chance to snoop around camp under the pretense of "inspecting the men".
Opening the door, I step outside and feel the warm air hit my body as I keep walking, ignoring some of the looks from the men lounging around the area. I don't walk for long though, it's too much of a pain…literally the dullness and the aches are hard to bear with it, so I find a place to sit down and just watch. The men perform this mediocre performance of a drill all having smiles and grins on their faces as they laugh and chuckle amongst themselves.
I don't know why, but it stung at me, watching them perform something so pointless, so unnecessary and yet being so happy. It didn't make sense, at least not to me. I don't understand, and I never wanted to understand. But for sure the actions of these militants irked me, clawed at me. It didn't make it any better when I saw the flashes of the past in my mind of me and that woman speaking with each other either. Whether it be at some quiet place at base or on patrol, her soft smile would always infuriate me. Causing me to try and act even more cold and distant towards her.
…Maybe…Maybe if I wasn't so cold, wasn't distant, wasn't…me. Maybe it could have been like the scene that was before me?...Ah who am I kidding, as if something like that would ever happen. I'm too much a pessimistic loathing loser of a loner to ever allow that to happen. These fools will all end up dead sooner or later. It's on them for wasting their time in a dangerous profession doing mundane and stupid things such as this.
My palms are wide open, each palm resting on each knee as my fingers curl over them. My eyes sharply observe them as I get that all too familiar feeling that I was talking about earlier in the cabin. I just can't seem to shake it. This feeling of contentment…This calmness…ugh, I just hate it.
Again, the actions of these fools irk me. And again I become even more irked when I can't seem to put my tongue on it. I don't know what it's called…But one thing is for sure, It tastes bitter, and I loathe bitter things.
It isn't before long until one of them notices me. And with a look of excitement, calls out to me. His voice dripped with respect and vigor.
"Honored one! Sir!" He stands up, prompting the rest of his comrades to do the same as they all gawk at me like some kind of dog.
With a mirthful grin I give a half assed lazy salute as I look upon once more. Some of them had that mad look in their eyes, some of them had that nervous look and some of them had no look at all.
"At ease" I say with my most customer service-like voice. Causing some of them to snort in amusement as I held out a hand and spoke to them.
"May I?" I ask, forcing myself to not sound cautious or nervous, but instead with a relaxed calm.
"Of course sir!" The closest to me replies excitingly, handing me his rifle as I grasp it now. Checking it out as I run my fingers through the weapon. Checking for any traces of dirt and debris.
"This is a well cleaned weapon, and…" I mutter as I pull back the charging handle with my right trigger finger. Releasing it only to watch with well hidden satisfaction when it bounces back to its default position.
"Well oiled too. And I didn't see a bullet in the chamber as well…You're quite the disciplined soldier huh? I'm impressed." As I say that, I see him visibly stiffen his back as his eyes light with pure unadulterated pride.
"The commander said that a dirty weapon is a soldier's biggest disgrace as well as a red flag. A clean weapon means a clean death…for your foes and for yourself." He said with a wide smile, a smile that I was all too familiar with.
"Well said, not something I agree with on a philosophical level…but well said, I've seen too many die because their weapon jammed in the middle of a firefight." I mutter, seeing glimpses of people dying right before my eyes as they pulled the trigger and get nothing but an empty click.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a crate of weapons nearby, the lid slightly open a jar. Wondering what it could be, the man before nods his head at another soldier, this one a young boy who couldn't possibly be older than 15.
"Oi Karluc! The venerable one is curious about the rusted pieces of junk over there. Can you be a dear and fetch us one?" He said with a shit eating grin, his question drawing out multiple chuckles from the small group.
"Damnit Azel, I respect you but I swear, you embarrass me again like that in front of the beast of Panjshir and I'll knock your teeth out." Karluc growled as he grabbed a firearm from a half opened crate nearby. His reaction caused Karluc and the rest of the group to further laugh with entertainment.
Standing in front of me now, he avoids eye contact as he looks away nervously after handing me the weapon. The bottom end of his lip quivering ever so slightly as he gives me an eager nod and returns to where he was before with the rest of the men.
It was an AK 47. Or more correctly a type 56 dash one. A Chinese variant with a couple of different features when compared to it's Russian sister. But more importantly, it was a very dirty, rusted type 56.
"It's a bit embarrassing that you have to see such a shoddy thing, we have better weapons! We really do!" Azel started, having the attention of my ears as my eyes focused more on the dirty weapons in front of me.
"We have FAL's! M16's! We have AK74's We have G3's Heck we even have AR10'S! We have the best weapons that money can buy, the only reason why we even have those weapons is that the cubans that we fought to help you had a crate or two of those weapons on their ship and the commander said we that it would be wise to take them in case something happens and we lose our weapons….Not like it would help though, no one can fire any of those damn things."
I half heartedly listen to him as I pull back the rack, only to be met with very stiff and grating resistance. It's bad, but I've dealt with worse.
Holding up a hand, I shut him up as I held the type 56 by the barrel… and whacked it against the ground as hard as I could, looking away as I saw specks and bits of dirt and grime and rust and whatever shit that had built up in the weapon over the years
"Um, sir? Respectfully, may I ask you what you're doing?"
"I…Am going to show you that what you said is incredibly wrong. Somebody hand me a loaded magazine or heck, even a single bullet." I say, holding out my hand. A second passing before Karluc, the young one, runs up to me with a single bullet.
Nodding my head at him, I rack the slide once more as I insert the lone bullet into the chamber, releasing it, and as result, clambering a bullet into the ancient thing.
I look at the area around me, scanning for a suitable target. It takes me a couple of seconds before I pause. Mentally scratching my head, I click my tongue as I figure that it should be theoretically ok. Shouldering the underfolding stock, I take aim and fire.
BAM!
Soon after a splat and a soft thud could be heard out in the distance. Nobody said anything, Nobody did anything, it was as if everything was held in suspension as even thoughts and breaths became stopped.
I know better, I really do, but I can't help but allow myself a small sigh as everyone looks at the tree that I fired at, many of them squinting, and very few of them having their eyes wide open.
"What the…"
"How in the?"
They don't even attempt to hide their murmurs as I set the type 56 next to me.
"See? These guns can absolutely be fired. You can haul them through shit, mud piss and sand and it will still fire. And if it doesn't? Just smack the hell out of it. That'll get it working." I say, squinting as I do so…I really hope that bullet didn't accidentally cause collateral damage.
"...Sir, with all due respect…How did you do that? how, just how? That…that was impossible…What you just did was impossible!"
"Ah-ah-ah, you see, soldier, when it comes to war. Nothing is IMPOSSIBLE. Nothing."
"And besides, you think this is the first time I've dealt with the type 56? I've dealt with a lot of guns, a lot of bad ones and a lot of decent ones, like that Ak74 you have there. But trust me when I say that the ak47 is the one gun that will never fail you, even when you dance against death itself, it'll keep on firing until you're either out of bullets, or you're dead."
"But the recoil hurts like all hell though…" I hear Karluc mutter quietly, absentminded as he looks at the weapon that lay beside me.
"That's because you're firing fully automatic. Don't do that, only green horns and illiterate peasants fire their AK's in fully automatic. If you fire one at a time you'll hit anything with a slight kick. And if you don't? Well just keep on firing, you'll hit it eventually. The ak always hits when you want it to hit."
"..." Karluc froze up now, looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Whoah, we all knew that you fought well but didn't know that you knew your firearms as well!" Azel said, trying to praise me as I inwardly gag at the attempt.
"First of all, don't do that. Flattery doesn't do a damn thing worthwhile in any situation, and second of all, I have a rudimentary knowledge on firearms at BEST. I wouldn't go seeing that I know them well. Only the ones that I've operated on are the ones I know." I say, shaking my head as I feel the discomforting sense of admiration gazing upon me. Something that I never got used to, and never will.
"But sir, come on. With all respect, you are THE BEAST. You're a legend. Most of us grew up hearing about you, what you did! And you did a whole lot, there wasn't much that you DIDN'T do."
"Please, there were a ton of things that I didn't do, couldn't even. At the end of the day, I'm just a man like you. I shit, eat and sleep like everyone else and I fight like everyone else. The only difference is that I got lucky."
"Uh sir…I think you may be putting yourself down a bit too much. Surely you must be proud of your deeds! After all, you shot down a hind with a musket! You defended the valley of Panjishir so many times by leading the charge! By your lonesome I must add! Surely that isn't just luck!" One of them said, looking a tad bit concerned at my words.
"Heh, Proud? Of course I feel Proud. I take great pride in my accomplishments, I'll have you know. Why would you even ask? Everything I did, everything I do, will always be paid in blood and excessive difficulty. No, I'm not trying to be humble here or anything. Just subjective. Cold hard facts. I know myself, and I know myself well. I don't put myself down because the world is already trying to do it already. No, I'm harsh on myself with cold hard logic because it's one of the only things that I can do. It helps remember you see, helps me remember that at the end of the day, the same rule applies to me as it applies to all of you."
"And that would be?" One of them asks, his brow raised in curiosity.
"That guys like us? The guys who fight well? Who have glory and achievements to their name? Well, they die. And oftentimes they die badly. No luck, no saving grace, nothing. We die bad, and in the end the price we get for it is a remembrance of our names and deeds. A eulogy from someone we may have never even met in our lifetimes. And children growing up trying to emulate us…In a sense, we essentially live forever. In the hearts of people whether we want to or not."
They say nothing, letting my words seep into them as they stand there, trying to comprehend what I was truly saying.
"Fighting…may be the only thing I'm good at. But at the very least I always fight for what I believe in. What I thought was right. What I know is right. I'm a simple man, I have principles and I try to follow those principles no matter how flawed I am. It keeps me…from becoming to lost I've come to find. And if I were you lot, I'd do same"
Their silence was almost deafening now as I observed them, A forced easy going grin on my face as I began to speak to them once more.
"Don't act so glum. Why are all of you acting like you've done something bad? We're all fighting for the same thing here, are we not? And If there's one thing you have to know about me, it's that I'm not stupid nor am I heartless. If I'm here then I'm here for a good reason, no?"
"..." The silence continues on despite my attempt to break it. The uncomfortable feeling that I hate creeping up on me, despite my best attempts to fight it.
"...Sir…you really are a hero, you know that?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was evening now. And my plans are starting to take shape. I had a rough idea on what I wanted to do and what I will definitely do. The main problem however was that I was being watched like a rat in a cage. I wanted to sneak out, but I had to do it in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion and wouldn't alarm them. If I go for the old pillows under a blanket trick, they'll see through that ruse almost immediately. I was too important, you see. And in that importance comes more thorough, improved detailed security.
I was essentially the VIP, and they would go far and beyond to keep me safe…and keep me locked up in here, at least until the time was right to move me.
Sighing, I begin leaving the cabin for supper, moving towards the big makeshift hut of a building that everyone had deemed the canteen. It was ratty, unsightly and quite frankly I thought that I was witness to a bunch of bugs crawling around it. But it would have to do. Not like there was another building that could do the job.
The camp was still the same, nothing changed, nothing will be changed…at least that's the impression I get. It was a very derelict place, hidden out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Location was terrible as miserable, bugs were everywhere, it was hot and moist too. The only reason anybody would camp out here is because they HAD to. And that's not going to change, not even after they leave.
As I pass by the white Toyota truck that sat parked near the canteen, I merely give it a quick glance as I nod my head to the two guards that were keeping watch, cigarettes in their mouths as they looked bored out of their minds. Well, until they saw me at least. They immediately straightened their backs in a half assed attempt to impress me. As I walked past them, I put my hand on one of the guards shoulder's. An attempt by me to invoke familiarity and to calm them down. Not like I can do much in this situation. This was essentially a dating sim and the lady that I was trying to win over was the type of heroine that required you to do everything right, every single dialogue, every single action, EVERYTHING right. No matter how inconsequential it might seem. If it got me closer to winning over lady liberty then I'm doing it.
Opening the door, I immediately hear everybody hush up and stare at me, hell I was sure that I heard a fork drop as well. Doing my best to ignore this new found attention, I sauntered my way to the makeshift counter in which they were serving slop that they called food. The chef froze as he saw me, Bits and pieces of the nasty looking food slowly dripping from his ladle as I nodded at him to serve me the food. It takes a second or two before he recompose's himself and finally serves me the food with a proud eager look. A look that annoys me too damn much. Gruffly nodding my head at him I take the food and walk towards an empty table. Everyone's eyes on me the whole damn time. Sitting my ass down on a crappy plastic chair that was seemingly made for kids as I sat down and began to dig in.
Only to get stopped…By a familiar face. Takenaka. His relaxed smile was ever present on his face as he stared me down, eyeing me as if I were a piece of candy. His eyes showed me a glimpse at his thoughts. How do I know this? Because his eyes were the same as THEIRS the very moment I fought well enough to be recognized.
"It's a good thing…to know." He began, with me eyeing him warily as I began to dig into my food. His gaze split between my eyes and my dominant hand.
"That you weren't just all talk after all ... .Nailing a snake slithering up a tree with his jaws open, just about ready to devour an egg at 350 meters is an impressive feat…With a rusted weapon." He began speaking, prodding and poking at me, wanting me to slip up or at the very least entertain him.
" …If you call the weapon that I used rusted, then you wouldn't believe your eyes in Afghanistan, Everyone had a rusted weapon back then. Just like me." I say neutrally with a mouth full of food.
"Oh! But you used an ak47, those things always work. No, What I'm impressed about is you nailing that snake at such a distance." He says with a sickening smile.
"When you fire a certain weapon too many times, you start to know when and how you'll hit your targets." I state the truth, spitting out a little bit of fish bone to the side.
"After all these years? It's been damn near a decade and you're telling me your eyes still work fine? Fine enough for that impressive display of marksmanship?" He replies, causing me to stiffen my brow as I swallow my food.
"...The trick is recoil. I slightly aim up or down when I'm aiming at something far away, most of the time I aim down. There. You know my secret.. Anything else?" I answer rigidly, telling him via body language to back off.
"I can hardly call adjusting your aim to be a secret." He says with a slight chuckle. Continuing on to try and tear me apart, bit by bit with his words.
"Well it's mine, nothing complicated to it. You just aim and fire…After doing it ten thousand times, you'll find that more often than not? You get the hang of it." I say cooly, brushing off his words as I try to appear unfazed by his words.
"You speak as if that's a normal thing for anyone to go through." He responded with a raised, entertained brow.
"That's because it is. Even more so if you're fighting against the damn world. You get this weight on your shoulders you see? And if you don't bear this heavy weight, you die, simple as that." I lay it down for him now, causing him to blink for a moment, making him lose that twinkle in his eye for just a second, before he continues the facade.
"Oh ho~ You must be strong indeed. I'm starting to second guess the rumors and legends about you. I'm starting to think that they don't begin to even do you justice at all. After all, only a true legend could survive all that." He quipped back with a happy smile, a real one this time.
"...Heh….Tell me." I can't help but snort at that as I ask him.
"Yes?"
"What makes you think I'm alive?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sofiya sweated through all of it. The moisture, the pain, the melancholy, all of it. Her cramped cell was hot. Her body was hot. But her heart was absolutely burning. Burning with rage and hope. Rage that she was in this situation, and the hope that she could get out of it. She kept silent through it all, the cacophony of the cicadas in the background, The soft songs of the wind, and of course, her burning rage. No one had to know, no one will ever know.
Taking her off her old, sweaty dirty blouse. She wrung what few drops could into the bucket, with it being filled just about under halfway. She grimaced as she looked into the bucket. It might not be enough. And even after all those times that she called for more water too…Should she?...No, if she calls for any more water the guards will get suspicious…Sigh, It looks like she'll have to sweat it out.
Sweat it out…yea, sweating out. Just like back then, when she got herself captured. She was attempting to escape regardless…but she took too much time to do so….it always bit at her, the thought, the suggestion, the possibility that if…just if, she had attempted to escape immediately, maybe it wouldn't have all come crashing down. Maybe, Sokolov…no, "Hikigaya" wouldn't have betrayed everyone, maybe Borris wouldn't have made an example out of one of her soldiers with the intent of trying to assure the brass that things went back to normal and were going to stay normal. Maybe she wouldn't be in this predicament. Maybe, maybe, maybe. So many maybe's, so much regret and bitterness. But she had to swallow it regardless. If she wanted to survive this coming storm.
She made a mistake before, this time she won't. She's escaping this very night and nothing will stop her. Even if she gets an eye shot out or loses a leg to a mine she'll make it. Though she doubts it. The enemy is mostly undisciplined, untrained and unmotivated….Mostly. Sokolo-Hikigaya being here ups the ante a bit. Because morale has been boosted, she's started to see more back's straighten and more vigilance unto her…He just had to…what was it again? Shoot a snake? She swears, men are the most simplest creatures on earth.
But she knows herself, and she knows her enemy, and when she escapes she won't be in peril. She's a ten year vet afterall. And when she manages to rally with her soldiers, they'll find this place and completely annihilate these fools that dare to pick a fight with them. And find…him. And when they do, she'll make damn sure that she ends this once and for all. Because this has gone on for far too long, and she doesn't think that her heart can bear this burden for much longer.
For just a brief period of time, Balalaika would allow Sofiya Pavlovna to take the wheel…until this is over. And once she has concluded her business, Sofiya Pavolna really will go away, and nothing will change that….Nothing….Sigh, nothing.
She shuddered for a moment, her heart beating faster at the mere thought of him….Yeah, Sofiya Pavlovna really wasn't going to stick around after this. Just the sensation, the feeling that she has pisses her off. The feeling, the hope and the desire to become a normal woman for once, just once irked her, pulled at her, stabbed at her and shot at her. She already knew that she had already become a monster, and that monsters shouldn't…well…they have no right to desire this…feeling of normalcy…To have it even. After all she's done, all she's said, even with the regret, all the nightmares, it drove her to despair knowing that despite all of THAT. All of that hardship and tribulation…that she wants to be happy for just one last time knowing full well that she doesn't deserve to.
Just once, just once, when she runs away and regroups with her men to burn this shit hole down and captures sok-hikigaya she'll fight with her words. And it'll be the last time she does so. It has to be…because she doesn't deserve to experience it again. She doesn't want to experience it again…But this? She has to end…this once and for all. An entire decade of….stagnation, of lost morals…she doesn't want to admit it, but before? She could barely just take it. All of the bitterness, all of the pain. But now?...she doesn't think she can take it anymore. It's just…just too painful. All these years, she had tried to keep him in the back of her mind. Occasionally there would be glimpses of him, just glimpses, random thoughts that filled her head when she was faced with a dilemma. And he was always the same, with the same answer, the same looks, everything. He would simply look at her with distaste in his rotten eyes and tell her that he wasn't her father, and that her choices were hers alone. She was her own person after all. She chose to be in this situation so she naturally has to choose what to do, regardless of how uncomfortable she is.
…Yes.. After all these years he was the same. And deep inside, it hurt. Nothing he would say, nothing he would do would ever hurt her as much as his gaze. His appearance was a surprise to be sure, a disgusting, brown dirty bag filled to the brim with shit that was left on your front porch bad, but not as bad as his gaze bad…She..expected..no, wanted him to change, to be as terrible as her, to have the same eyes as her…but even after all this those rotten eyes of his remained the same as they ever were. Rottenly genuine, rottenly clear as hypocritical as it is somehow.
She wanted him to change. She wanted him to be in the same position as her. but …he wasn't. He still judged her, hated her, hated everything…He…she could tell that he still hated fighting, she felt it in her gut. And..well, that's the stinger, that what hurts. Not him, not this entire situation, but the fact that even after all these years, he was the same. It..it just wasn't fair. Even back then she was enamored with him, she wanted so desperately to know how he had become who he was, why he was, all of it. He just made her so confused, so flustered, frustrated. He made her so paradoxical, so hypocritical..he made her feel like a schoolgirl.
She hates him…right?... Right. So why does she keep thinking of him? Why does she keep feeling envious of him? It was stupid, it wasn't fair. He was the missing link and yet she couldn't grasp him in her bloody hands because he was a part of a rusted chain that had to be thrown away…no was thrown away. He's the only thing left binding her back to those times and yet despite knowing this…Sofiya Pavlovna wants to still hold onto him, desperately even. It didn't make sense, and yet, she didn't care. And that made her hate herself even more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sweat poured down the back of her neck as she trekked through the jungle. A scowl on her face as she scanned the treeline, mindful of her step. A couple of paw prints, some broken twigs, things that she was all too familiar with. Something was in the same area with her she could tell, she could feel it. But it was alright, for now. The birds still sang their song and she could make out little squirrels running around all around her.
She wasn't in danger...yet. But she knew, one misstep, one mistake could end up getting her killed. It wasn't anything new to her. She had experienced it before, she had already experienced it recently, but she hates it. She's already hated it from the very beginning, but now? Now she hates it even more because finally, after all this time, after all of her sins she has earned a chance to become a normal woman once more. And what does she do with it? She risks it by throwing it on a gamble. For a woman she barely knows and a beast that made its name all the way in the middle east more than a decade ago. A monster that invokes fear in his enemies. A terror that got the whole city of Ronapur scrambling. Just from his very presence.
What kind of man did he have to be, what kind of monster did he have to be, to invoke such fear and panic, so much destruction? Why did he fight? And how did he fight? So many questions, so little answers. Why was he so special? What made him different from her? Was he a psychopath? Or was he the sanest man in this country? She didn't know, and she knew that she shouldn't muse deep on this, but deep down, she was curious. Curious about the man that made the infamous Balalaika slip up, made her get captured, made her lose the eyes of a killer for just a brief moment.
She wanted to know one man can cause all of this grief and bear it. She wanted to know how he wasn't ashamed of himself, she wanted to know-...No, she was just going in circles now. The important thing here was finding the beast that lies in this thicket of sin and vice. And when she finally finds him, she shall not listen to his cries nor pleads for help. It is only when she brings him to hotel moscow and only then that she shall indulge herself with just one question, the most important question of all.
Her steps were light.
Her eyes were forward.
Her finger was on the trigger of her weapon.
Her breathing was slow and steady.
Her cadence was fast.
Her exhaustion was insurmountable.
"Was all it worth it?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Takenaka took a small break from writing his report. Setting his pen down, he looked blankly at the wooden worn down walls of the shack that he currently presided in. The flickering flames from his lamp on his desk illuminated the dark as he let out a sigh. He hoped, he really hoped that he was soon to be proven wrong, and that everything works out perfectly as he wants it. But if it doesn't? Well, he didn't live this long without at the very least having any back up plans. It wasn't optimal, but it would still work.
Though he would prefer the latter, plans are plans, and both were good. Though it does pay to be cautious, especially in times like this where even a single mistake would mean his undoing. An undoing that he refuses to let happen lest all these years of him being a revolutionary were to be jeopardized and spent in vain. Too much was at stake here, and this would finally be his break. His triumph, his victory. And the Beast would be his ticket to the grand sweepstakes. It was stuck in the thicket, its cries tempting and sweet. He could free it, but it would either kill him or follow him.
The beast made that quite clear today in the pathetic excuse of a mess hall. There was no taming him, he could tell. Either the beast will work WITH him, or fight him.
Hoping that that he takes the reasonable choice, Takenaka could only slouch in his chair as he pulls out a 1911, a relic of a bygone age still somehow in use. Yes, it would be fitting, a relic for a relic. Here's hoping that the beast enjoys the irony of the situation,
"War or peace? Which one should you choose?"