The man dressed in fatigues now saw across from me, a patient, uncanny smile on his face as he kept his silence. An act that makes me distrust him even more as rests my back against the chair that I sat in. A little fidgeting to make myself more comfortable elicits a wince from me as a subtle shock of pain flares up in my body.
"...You are injured." He finally speaks up.
"Yeah, I'm surprised your men didn't tell you, considering the fact that it was them who bandaged my hand." I reply, taking my hand and softly waving it in front of him, sarcasm dripping in my words as I raise a brow.
"I meant severely. I'll get the medics to look at your chest, wouldn't want the beast of Panjishir suffering from injuries now do we?"
"Ah yes, WE. Care to explain that to me? The "WE" specifically?"
"The protectors of the Islamic front. That's who we are…though I don't suppose you wouldn't know of us. We're the local branch of Hezbollah."
Hezbollah. That was a familiar name. I had heard it earlier in Sofiya's base…still don't know who the hell they are, but something tells me that I do know who they in fact are, in fact, i feel like it's right on the tip of my tongue….Ah shit, I should have paid more attention in history class.
"...And what would Hezbollah want with, little old me?" I asked hesitantly, gauging his reaction now as he chuckled lightly
"We want to save you obviously." He replies, visibly relaxing back against his chair.
"Oh my, you are quite too kind. If I didn't know any better, I would have called you're "saving me" a desperate abduction." I say, raising a brow at him as I test the waters.
"Oh yes indeed! But thankfully you are quite intelligent, so you would NEVER make such a mistake now would you?"
"While I am quite flattered that you would consider me "Intelligent." I am still a man. And mankind always finds a way to fuck up some how. So I must disagree with your statement."
"Ah! Look at you! Ever so humble, the stories don't bring you nearly enough credit!"
"The stories of anyone, never seems to bring nearly enough credit I have come to find as of late."
"Indeed, you my friend. Are quite rare indeed."
I scoffed.
"Guys like me always tend to die first "my friend". Nothing rare at all about me, I'm just another dime a dozen that you can find loitering in the streets."
"But you are still alive. And that in itself speaks tremendous volumes."
"A mixture of luck and desperation I can assure you. Something that even the lowliest street trash possesses."
"But you're still alive, and making it this far whilst still holding a gun and fighting? That is undeniable proof that you're good…no, perhaps even better than the stories say."
"Pft, the only thing I'm good at is finding a harder fight the moment I finish the previous one…And having the luck to survive that, only to be put in yet another exceedingly difficult fight, Not a good trait at all now that I think about it."
"I see, but staying alive is always more preferable than dying now isn't it?"
"I'm not going to refute you there….but sometimes, I begin to feel that all the shenanigans aren't worth it." I say, looking at him. Let's see how he reacts to some good ole pessimism…and depression.
"Hah! We all get that feeling my friend. But I do assure you in the end, it shall all be worth it."
"Let me guess, you think that if you say it enough times then it will happen?" I say with a bemused brow, taunting him now as I flash him a smirk, still trying to read him.
"Indeed. But this time, instead of saying it; I shall do it. All with your help."
Welp, guess it's business time now. Too bad, I was starting to enjoy a conversation in which a gun wasn't pointed right at my head for once.
"My help huh? I'm afraid that I'm only one man, and as such, can only do so much. So please, tell me how I'm going to "help" you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She sat upright, her back against the wall as she eyed her captors through the cell bars. With both her and the guards that were posted in the room remaining silent, saying nothing as they both observed each other.
She gulps, keeping her mouth closed as she forces a poker face. She was in control here, she was calm, and collected. The training kicked in now as her current situation reminded her of her time in Afghanistan.
Exhaling out of her nose, she takes a moment to further collect herself. She has to collect herself. She was in a strange place, most likely knocked out and forced to be confined to this place. By the look of her captors, their uniforms and their balaclava. She can somewhat guess that they're the members of the protectors of the Islamic front. Great, another problem.
The main priority was escaping this damn place and linking up with her men….But the main question was, where the hell was she? She could be north, south, east and or west from Roanapur, and where the hell was yu-...No, HE wasn't important…he..can't be important.
For now, she needs to leave, to escape. Then can she focus on other things. Like killing him for example….Yes, him. At the end of the damn day, this was all his DAMN fault. It was his damn fault that she was put into this situation, it was his damn fault that everything that she had worked so hard for was on the brink of being taken away from her, and it was his damn fault that she lost her first kiss-...No, nevermind, good god, what the fuck was she thinking? Now was not the time for this!
Now was the time for coming up with an escape plan! Now was the time to break out!
She bit the nail of her thumb in contemplation as vestiges of a makeshift plan started to form in her mind.
"...I'm going to fucking kill that man." She growled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I shall waste no time, as I believe that you and I hold time to be quite sacred. After all, nothing can bring even something so small and measly as a second, am I wrong?"
"..." Saying nothing, I signal him with my arm to continue, eagerly wanting to finally find out the reason why I was so forcefully extracted.
"Very well, We saved you because we want you to throw in your lot with Hezbollah. Simple as that."
"..." Shit, there goes what little remaining hope I have for a way out via these guys. Does no one ever want me because they miss me or simply adore my charm?
"..." I open my mouth, but something inside my brain stops me from doing so, with only the hot breath leaving my throat as he gauges my reaction.
"...This city is a hotbed of crime and misery… And yet.." The man before starts talking once more as he pulls out a single dollar bill and gently puts it on the table.
"It makes this. So much of this."
"You know it as well my friend."
"This." He puts his pointer finger on the green US dollar bill.
"Makes revolution possible."
"After all, the Chinese communist party won the civil war because of the Soviet Ruble, The North Vietnamese in the Vietnam war because of the Chinese Yuan and The MPLA because of Russian and Cuban money… Money, that bought for them everything they needed to succeed."
"After all, it was Napoleon that said, an army marches on its stomach."
"An army also matches on its shoes, along with the clothes on its back, and the rifle slung over its shoulder as well. And all of this is possible through money.
"So you intend to take over this city? Full of criminals with nothing to lose and everything to gain? Quite bloodthirsty and brave of you I must say." I interject, attempting to see how he would react to a question like this. One neither of distrust or trust, merely neutral, cold hard logical skepticism.
"Uh uh uh! That's where you're wrong! For you see, I seek not a conflict, but a restoration of balance. This city shall provide the judgment necessary if the revolution is to survive. And to prosper as a result."
Yep. This dude was batshit insane, fuck me.
"This dollar bill is capable of making the impossible possible. It is capable of damning a man as it is saving him. It makes friends out of the most bitter of enemies, and enemies of the most beloved of friends."
"This dollar bill my friend, is the greatest weapon of all, for it is worth everything, and when it is not? It shall destroy everything."
"...." I raise my brow at him skeptically as he continues to speak.
"There doesn't need to be conflict, there shouldn't be conflict, not with you on the line anyways…For you see, everything has a price, EVERYTHING."
"For mankind shall always have want and need of money. And if they don't? Then well, a couple of unfortunate events orchestrated by those that want money, shall make those who don't want money, to accept it. Not out of greed, but by fear."
"Heh, and at the end of the day, that fear was and is caused by money! Oh the irony~"
"..." He insinuated that he bought out people, but I highly doubt that a couple of two bit criminals could actually help him succeed in taking the city over. What the hell was he planning?
"Can't figure it out? I'll give you a hint, It's people with money that want even more money, regardless of the consequences, never capable of sprouting truths from their forked tongues, always content with the status quo never wanting it to break, lest they themselves lose it all."
"...."
…Hm, Status quo? Forked tongues? People with money? Am I sure that he's not talking about Hayama Hayato here?
Hah, what the hell am I thinking? It's obvious now that I think about…when I look at it from the perspective of a militant.
"....So you bought out a couple of politicians, most likely Muslim politicians…You brought out a religious minority that I highly doubt has the political power to do much of what you intended."
"Heh, close but no cigar. For you see, I didn't just buy our Muslim politicians, I also bought out the Communist ones, are at the very least, the former ones…Let me ask you a question, are you aware of the communist insurgency that occurred here in Thailand?"
"...No, I don't believe I have."
"Oh really? Well, to make matters short.The Communist party of Thailand, The CPT, lost the war. They stopped fighting, and accepted an amnesty from the government. But here's the thing, with an amnesty comes forgiveness, and with forgiveness comes actions that are usually barred by fear."
"You see…I bought out many MANY politicians that used to be red, some reluctant to accept my money, and some eager to grab it with their sweaty hands. Heh, I could have sworn that a couple of them had the ole fire lit up in their bellies again~"
"So you essentially bought an unstable boat, filled it to the brim with explosives, and are threatening everyone and everything by threatening to sail said boat at anyone who opposes you?"
"You make it sound worse than it is, perhaps you misunderstand, here, let me clarify some things."
"Oh by all means, please do, I find this conversation quite intriguing." I say, skeptical at his words.
"It is, well, it is essentially deterrence, the other governmental parties can't do much regarding this…coalition, after all, one wrong move and the country could have major disturbances. Not big enough to be threatening, but big enough to be a…what's the word, pain in the ass to deal with."
"But. And there's always a but here. There's a time limit, everything has a time limit, politicians and parties all have terms to serve, everything is on a ticking clock.. And that clock slowly runs out of time with each tick."
"This makeshift, rag tag alliance is already shaky enough, but with you, perhaps it shall steady itself some bit eh?"
I pause, my lips tugging into a frown as I found myself baffled by the man before me. His motive is so…contradictory, he is by extension a member of Hezbollah, a purely religious group, to which to my knowledge is not by any way left wing at all, and yet here he is, spouting something along the lines of revolution.
My brows furrowed.
This man had an alternative motive, quite possibly different from that of the main branch back in Lebanon. And he is at the point in his schemes where it no longer matters whether or not his motives are uncovered.
"How strange…that a member of such a religious organization speaks of revolution, of communism, you wouldn't happen to be a Marxist now would you?"
"Indeed I am, and I am not ashamed of that fact, in fact I'm quite proud of it really. Over twenty years now, two decades of my life I have spent fighting this good fight, and I've yet to regret even a single moment~"
"You do know that I fought against the Soviets back in Afghanistan do you not?"
"That matters not, the past is in the past, what matters now is that you are alive, right here, breathing, living, right in front of me. You may be a man, but in the eyes of others, you are a legend. A legend that has been gifted to us by the grace of Allah, believe it or not, I've spent years of my life concocting this plan, all I needed was a figurehead to lead the charge, and at the eleventh hour, you arrived." He said with a wide eyed grin, giddy at the prospect of success as he chuckled slightly.
"So, you intend to use me as a figurehead, the PIF, managed to rescue the legendary beast of Panjshir!... I hardly doubt that would convince most people. And your hands would be quite tied, the Americans have their eyes on this city, I highly doubt that whatever you are planning will work." I say, imagining his little plan in my head as I saw nothing but failure.
"Oh, I have that matter sorted out, you see, the very moment your appearance was reported for the rest of the world, I raced here with all due speed. You see, at that moment, I made ready for the events that I shall commit today. It cost me quite a lot of influence and money, But I managed to snag two platoons from our sister branch in India, they'll arrive any day now…Officially, they'll arrive here to make sure that you are indeed safe, but…it would be most unfortunate if the government made it so that they couldn't sail the moment they secure you now, wouldn't it?"
"Imagine it, the looks on their faces when they get told that the government inspected their boat and found illegal ordinance and weaponry in said boat, oh how unfortunate it would be indeed when they finally have you in their grasp.."
"But then picture it, the joy on their faces when I tell them of my plan, when I tell them that they could take the most profitable city in all of southeast asia without any government resistance at all, imagine the smiles as they return home as heroes!"
"..." I looked at him skeptically now as I racked my head, trying to find any sense and or logic in this ill conceived plan of his.
"...So, you have two platoons from India, then what? You got at most, a hundred men, now unless they're all highly trained specs ops, I highly doubt that you could strike so many places so fast and hard as you would no doubt imagine."
"Oh, they're spec ops all right. Each and everyone of them having experienced battle. But do not forget my boys here, fifty of them to be exact, and with you and me, it shall be one hundred and fifty two…well, how do you like our odds now?"
"..." My silence met him as I crossed my arms, my eyes closed as I really really struggled to see any success in his plan.
"The government will have their hands tied by the reds and the Muslims. The police in this city are the dirtiest laziest scumbags that abhor work and love money and alcohol. And the time to strike is perfect, no doubt with all of the criminals in the city still staggering and reeling from what just all so recently happened. With you leading the charge and inspiring our men, our success does not seem so impossible now does it?"
"...In exchange I get a boat ride to Lebanon and be hailed as a hero then I suppose." My snark and cynicism clearly dripped in my words as I looked at him, no longer caring as I just simply got fed up with all of this bullshit.
"Do you have an objection?"
"Yes indeed, I quite frankly have an objection."
"Very well, then speak, I shall try and do what I can."
"..." I start to speak before pausing. I mean what the hell can I say? I don't want to be shipped off to Lebanon? That's a definite refusal from this psycho. Money? I don't want money, not a damn cent. What I want, what I ONLY want, is to get out of this hell that I find myself in and to go home. But that's not possible, not with the man before me. So what can I say? What can I do? Think Hachiman, THINK!
He maintains his silence as he looks at me expectantly, much like a vulture circling around in the skies, awaiting a meal.
Dammit me, say something! Anything!
"I… I want money." I begin, looking at him hesitantly, the gears in my mind kicking into overtime as I try to think of something.
"...Believe me, you will receive plenty of money, as well as fame as you sail to Lebanon-"
"I want a lot of money, like, a goddamn mountain of it." I say, cutting him off. The hints of something logical are already forming as I focus on the word money.
"I…want enough money to arm an army…yes, I want enough money to be able to wage war." I say, the hints of logic now forming into something of a semblance of a plan.
"I mean…Look at me? Look at me! I fought then, all those years ago in Afghanistan. Even now I fight…I…love war…Yes, I love it! I love it! I won't be satisfied as a figure head. I won't feel alive lounging around at home reading books and playing games…No. I feel alive when bullets whizz by my head. I feel alive killing a man!" I say, the lies are starting to make a pattern of illogical sense.
"Hell…the reason as to why I am here…it..is…and was to perpetuate war… But that is another story for a safer time…I…tried you know…I really tried… I really did…But the urge to kill a man always beats the urge to lounge around and live a normal life…I…wrestle everyday. I wrestle with the giant inside of me, and it whoops my ass time and time again. So I've decided to just stop fighting it. To throw myself once more into the flames of war…and I loved it."
"No offense if I seem to be quite withdrawn with you, but I highly doubt your plans. I love war, I love fighting, but I also desire victory. I do not wish to be a loser, beaten. I do not wish to fight a battle with terrible odds, I wish to completely dominate my foes on the field of battle. That Is what I want. And I apologize, but I do not trust you. I don't even know you." I say, arms out as I point at him. The vague motions of a plan are already running into my head as I get a rough idea of what I even want.
The fringes of a frown form on his face at this, looking at me inquisitively as he tries to figure out what I'm getting at.
"You see, what I want. Is to fight. That's all I have always wanted. To fight, to put a bullet in a man and to relish in my victory. No amount of cocaine, no amount of weed, no amount of alcohol, no amount of women, can satisfy me as much as war can. I love it. The feeling of superiority that I get when I outwit and outgun my opponent. I love it. And well? The way you speak, that look in your eyes, it seems that I shall not receive what I love, what I desperately want."
"What do you want then?"
This was it, all of my ramblings, my nonsensical speech. This was really fucking it.
"I want a part in the plan to take over this city, I want complete and total obedience over you men, And after all of this is over, I want to be on the battlefield. Not some cushy desk job at the rear with air conditioning blowing in my face. Not being used as a political tool on the propaganda front…I want my own army, one of which is to wage complete and total war, an army loyal to me and only me. "
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cicadas sang their song in the distance as the birds joined in, making her furrow her brow in irritation. She never did like places like this, with a lot of vegetation and animals. Vegetation and animals meant places to hide in after all. She was also quite sweaty, which only added to he irritation.
She wiped her brow with her forearm. Great, not only was she in a place where potentially every bush had a gun behind it, but she was also sweating. Just great.
Back against the wall, she crossed her arms. She couldn't do much. Except for waiting that is. Thankfully the guards merely gave her a pat down, a light one at that. A light pat down means many things, but it mainly means that they failed to find the knife hidden in her boot. Which also means that they're idiots, if not idiots then green and inexperienced. To not be able to check something so obvious as a boot that is.
She silently cursed as she could no longer bear the disgusting sensation of moisture and heat that her upper torso had to so tortuously endure. Uncrossing her arms, she silently looked at the corner to her left and found an old rusty bucket. Clicking her tongue, and not finding anything else better than said bucket around her already way to small and cramped cell, she took off her old Telnyashka that the old motherland had bothered to give her, and started twisting it over said bucket.
It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing at the very least. Her hands slightly burned from her tight grip as she twisted and crimped her under shirt, causing her to stop momentarily as his words rang through her head.
"Pull the trigger then, and prove to me that your combat skills have dulled."
"That you have DULLED."
Even now that little quip of his rang out loudly as she found herself cursing herself as she slightly agreed with the statement. A decade ago, during the war, she would have felt nothing, her calloused hands would have absorbed everything without her even noticing. But now? She slightly gulped. How did the fuck did he know?
He truly was a mystery wasn't he? Surrounded by death, and yet always going forwards and managing to give the slip to his foes. He always was one step ahead while making it look like he was a step behind them. Her, Hotel Moscow, His enemies, anyone and anything that wanted to harm him. She swore. He did it so well that even now, sitting in this humid, small, stanky cell, and thinking back on what he did and how he did it, what he pulled off was no less magic.
It can't be anything less than magic after all. The subtlety that he employed whenever he dealt with his opponents was always so baffling to her. One moment he could act so composed, so intelligent, like a battle hardened veteran that had his shit together, and the next he would have a look of panic in his eyes, he would be doing something stupid, rash and reckless, something so foolish that no one would ever think of and then pull it off.
He was always thinking, wasn't he? Using his head and coming up with immensely insane, illogical, stupid plans that everyone, even a child would scoff at….
She raised her brow at this.
A scary thought flashed through her mind as she analyzed his actions silently in her mind.
He was always doing something stupid. And yet he always seemed to manage getting a rise, a reaction from someone. She, Borris, Chang, hell even the Black Lagoon company became quite hot and bothered, quite…emotional because of him.
Emotional…he never seemed to be the emotional type…That is, until he had the barrel of a gun aimed directly at his head, or whenever he wanted something. He wasn't stupid, he knew that he had abandoned them, abandoned her back during the war. He knew…well, at the very least should have expected her to become emotional if she were to meet him again.
And yet, upon their first meeting within roughly a decade, he had that same, desperate, panic stricken look in his eyes….As if…As if he didn't expect to run into her there. As if, he didn't know that she would be there…It was if…as if he was buying time, talking to her in such a manner, clearly and purposefully aggravating her. It's just.. Seemed so weird, so…perfect. He meets her after all that time, stalls for time, escapes, infiltrates HER OWN BASE, escapes AGAIN, and then attacks the main gathering hub of all the criminal faction inside roanapur without a single wound. Gets beaten by her, was about to die by Chang, manages to escape again via the extremists and now is here.
…If that wasn't some magic then she didn't know it was…She didn't know why, but this whole thing felt off to her. For the short time that she had known him, she had thought that she had gotten a pretty clear read on him. That he wasn't the type to do this kinda thing, for some reason, she always thought of him as above these elaborate schemes. After all, when she was with him, it had always seemed that he would always rush into battle with his eyes upon the enemy. He was an idiot. A hard headed bare knuckle bones idiot that always charged forward whenever the situation had gotten bad, with no regard for his safety at all. Just blindly flinging himself into battle as he "winged" it.
…An idiot that was terrifyingly adept at war. An idiot that never tried until he absolutely had too. An idiot that hated being on the battlefield. An idiot that never truly was a soldier. An idiot that charged headlong into the fray regardless of consequences. An idiot that never seemed to have a plan…Well, a complex plan that is. He could plan all right, but from what she had seen, all those plans of his was always in the heat of the moment, ad hoc, stupid idotic-
'
Heat of the moment…Ad hoc….
…No...no…no!
There was no way. No fucking way that this was just a fuck up of his. He MUST have planned this, must have! He must have some sort of master scheme…Yes, he must have wanted to do something to her, perhaps provoke her or something by dressing up and looking exactly the same as he looked when she saw her nearly a decade ago….Now that she think about it…Why did he look the same?...Why did the uniform that he wore look exactly the same as to how she remembered it all those years ago? She wasn't one to talk about age of course, considering how her youthful beauty never did once diminish over the years. But even she grew, and was wearing different size clothing as to when she was in Afghanistan. But him? He looked exactly the same, the same face, same clothes, hell even the same size now that she thought about it.
..It just didn't add up. What was his plan? Was he attempting something big? If so, why show himself so brazenly like that for all to see? Why not relax and hide in the shadows and strike when it was time? Was it indeed time when he showed himself? And what was the deal with that mechanical robot that she caught a glimpse of? She had dug it all in the back of her mind, never focusing on it and only on him, only him. He was far more important after all.
Calm down Sofiya. Think, think logically, think about his mannerisms, what he would do.
He first appears in the city with a robot. Then he evades capture, somehow managing to hide in her OWN base of operations. And then after being made, evaded capture again, managed to get weapons (albeit very outdated and impractical ones) and assault the main building in which everyone normally met up at. He, of course, messed up on the timing, they weren't meeting on that specific day anyways…wait a minute, if he had a plan, then why would he attack when they weren't meeting up?
She had somewhat guessed in the heat of the moment that he would be assaulting the main meeting place for all of the criminal big shots at the time due to logical reasoning. After all, if trapped, surrounded by all slides without any support, the only reasonable thing you can do is to simply charge forward. You can't try and manovre to someplace advantageous, you would just get caught, or shot if you're surrounded. Therefore the only things that you could feasibly do was either dig in, call for air support or just simply attack. The latter choice being even more unthinkable and unexpected, and with his case, nobody thought that he would do such a thing, because he was only a man after all. They all believed that they were the hunters and that he was the one that would be hunted, like the feral beast that he was. Instead, they found themselves badly mauled, embarrassingly so even.
And next was the precursor to the predicament that she found herself in. The PIF. They had in the most crucial moment, showed up, flashed banged, and even presumably lit the place up, exfiltrated him and brought him and her to this fucking place out in the middle of no where.
…Was he working with them? That would be the most logical answer. But it wasn't. If it was, then he would have never been loose in the city, he never would have done something so risky and desperate as to sneak into her own home. He would've, at the very beginning linked up with them if he was allied with them…Meaning that he most likely wasn't even aware of them from the very beginning. Explaining his lack of weaponry when assaulting the meeting place. If he was indeed with them, he would SURELY have better weaponry, well, better than an m16 and a handful of revolvers really.
…But then it all loops around to them exfiltrating him out of there. How did they know that he was even there? How did they manage to come and save him in the nick of time?..She frowned, looks like they had spies in their midst. But when was that something new?
She continued on crimping her old blue striped under shirt, making sure that all of the excess sweat fell into the bucket, Her thoughts running loose in her mind as she did so.
She wondered, thought, pondered, hypothesized, but it still did not make sense. It made no sense at all. What was he attempting here? He was never one to attempt anything ambitious, even more so on such a colossal scale such as this. The man said it himself, he wanted to be a house husband, to laze around the house and do only the bare minimum. He…no, he didn't change…Something inside her vehemently denied that thought. He was the same, exactly the same as all those years ago. It was almost as if he was trapped in time and managed to escape, stumbling out of the exit and, stumbled right unto her.
…No, the heat was getting to her, how could she even think such absurdities? Sigh, if only she had more information, if only she knew what exactly was going on inside that stupid, idiotic head of his. If only she knew what exactly his plan was, and how exactly was he executing it. It was such a fragile, tangled, confusing thing, even with just one close, logical look the whole damn thing fell apart in a matter of seconds.
It didn't make sense. Nothing did, and yet, it managed to work, whatever the hell he was doing at least. Hence, magic, and thus turning the whole damn conjecture back and into a circle, a wicked, messed up, jumbled and confusing ouroboros of information.
She didn't know much about the robot, and quite frankly did not care about it, she was quite indifferent about it really. Even when she was given those files, she never bothered to pay much attention to them. And even if she did, she doubted that she would find much information that was useful to her. It was in the heat of the moment after all, her blood was pumping, and the only thing that she could and would focus on was him. And only him.
But of course she was no fool, not an idiot like him. She had skimmed the files, reading a page or two from the file before discarding it. The content inside was of course, no doubt highly incriminating to certain countries of which that had quite a colossal sphere of influence. And if said files were to get leaked, then no doubt she would have a humongous target painted right on her back.
It was nothing new, the files of course. It was the same scummy acts over and over again. Party A supplies party C with whatever the hell they want because Party C is fighting Party B, Party A's enemy, and blah blah blah, party B does the same and vice versa. But in this case, party C was gonna screw over both a and b. Again, nothing new. Well, nothing that was new to her, she pieced the many pieces together and had determined that party C in the files that were handed to her was going to make good ole uncle sam and mother russia be blamed for an unfortunate incident. An incident that either was stopped, or happened but was covered up, she didn't know…Much like she didn't know what exactly was HIS relation to party C.
…Now that she thought about it…What HIS role in all of this? If he was an american or soviet operative, then she would have been able to find any trace of him, she knows this. And yet, she couldn't. Her contacts all told the same damn thing, he simply didn't exist in either American or Soviet computer systems. And what's even more odd was the fact that the only reason she KNEW, had definitive proof that he was even a real person was because of the Mujahideen propaganda back then, showing him off with that all too familiar scowl.
If that was simply that then she would be okay with it. Even if HE was indeed allied with party C then he would have left tracks, traces to find him by. But nope, He couldn't be found among party C either, it was like…like he simply ceased to exist, vanished into thin air one day. He trekked upon the desert dunes, leaving his footprints unto the sand, and with still an endless desert ahead of him, stopped trekking and simply disappeared, his tracks stopping right then and there.
Her hands, despite the humidity of the area, were quite cold and clammy. Her stomach dropped as she looked into the small little puddle of sweat that she had crimped into the old bucket. She was smiling. A fierce, excited, almost childlike smile even. Her eyes had the shine of hopes and dreams, and she was instantly brought back to her young adult life, of the times when she had attended university. Of the times before she found herself in a sickening, disturbing war that was to be the final war that her old motherland would ever wage.
A low mirthless chuckle escaped from her lips as she felt herself hating that spiteful, cunning evil bastard even more. Even now, in her darkest hour, he was making her smile. And the worst part? Not only was he the main reason as to why she was in this current predicament, but he was also doing nothing for her either! He was quite literally doing nothing, to and for her, and yet here she was, smiling like some idiot at the thought of him…
It was strange, melancholic even. Back during her university days, she remembered fondly taking her math classes, enjoying each and every moment of it. Of how the complex math problems would cause her so much trouble, and so much joy when she managed to complete them. How much pride she felt when she managed to completely memorize a formula and institute it to solve a problem whenever she had a test or quiz.
…She hated how that bastard brought back those long seldom remembered nostalgic memories of her's whenever she thought of him. She hated how he has become the missing link, the formula that she is so desperately having a go at. Trying to solve it with all of her might, biting at it, and chasing it so desperately, learning everything and yet, understanding nothing. She hated how there was a missing variable inside of this formula. And she hated how desperately she wanted him… Jesus fucking christ. No, she didn't mean it that way…She meant…Wait, why the fuck was she even trying to mount a defense for? This was all in her head. No one was even accusing her of anything, and yet here she was, her cheeks flushed as she felt herself slowly going insane.
She groaned now, her scarlet flushed cheeks still visible and not fading away as she in- voluntarily remembered the moment that bastard had claimed her lips for his own, the sudden, violent sensation of soft lips upon hers. And the furious pace at which her supposedly hardened heart beat at. She didn't like him. She HATED him. He was the one that left, the one that was responsible for so much of the pain that afflicted her heart. Even before he left, he was always the ever antisocial asshole that nobody liked…She still didn't know why she even bothered trying to rein him in, perhaps she had thought that she could have fixed him… oh god, he would have laughed at that notion. The notion that she was one of THOSE girls. Girl's that need to take only a single look at the wreck of the monster known as Yuri Sokolov and go, "Oh, I can fix him!"
She sighed, hating him even more.
"Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?
She softly whispered to herself, furrowing her eyes in anger as she pursed her lips together, pouting at how she was so pathetic when it came to HIM.
"..." She really, truly, TRULY hated him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Borris gulped for the umpteenth time that day. Sweat poured down his face as everyone crowded him, either asking for orders, asking for help or just straight out accusing him of something. It was so hectic, so chaotic that he had, for so many times that day alone, been brought back momentarily to the war. The atmosphere was so strict and tense that oftentimes he had caught himself breaking discipline and smiling. Not out of joy, but out of desperation. Desperation and adrenaline. He knew that he shouldn't have thought like it, or even felt like it mattered, but for some strange reason, he felt oddly alive, rejuvenated even.
Insults were thrown, hands were raised, and there was an occasion racking of the pistol. It was pure chaos. But for some strange reason, his mind was clear. Throughout it all, the desperation, the fury, and the melancholy, he knew exactly what to do, what to say. His mind was working overdrive. Perhaps…perhaps this was how he felt back then, when the Kapitan was taken as a prisoner. He never understood, nor even attempted to try and understand how he felt back then, how he was able to clearly rationalize and decisively act when so great a crisis was upon him. And even now he doesn't understand, but he still feels like he can at the very least taste what he felt at the tip of his tongue.
It was infuriating really, to find himself thinking about the man who had saved the whole lot of them, and the man was betrayed by them in turn. Feelings full of guilt, yet of rage and sadness, of confusion and melancholy. He always was the wild card. One moment he was lazy, an arrogant asshole, and the next he was energetic and a hero….Perhaps that was why. Why they couldn't understand him. He was just so…contradictory. He hated everyone, and in turn everyone hated him. He didn't care about them, about the looks they gave him back then, he only cared about one thing and one thing only, himself. And even then sometimes it didn't look that way. If he truly cared about himself and only himself then he would have never done those things back then. Charging into the fray without hesitation. Defending the camp against an ambush, Leading them to find the Kapitan. It was all…all so ironic, so contradictory, so infuriating.
It felt like he was merely repeating the same things over and over whenever he thought of Him. only the same conclusions over and over again. Nothing new, nothing that would make them completely hate him and yet nothing that would make them completely feel guilty and sorry for him. The man had done nothing worthy of damnation nor redemption…he was just… a man. Another human being. Maybe that was why they were so uncomfortable when it came to him. He was no hero nor villain, no demon or angel, he was just a man. A man that hated everything and everyone. A man that acted when no one else would, and a man that came into their lives and left, just like that. No goodbyes, no fanfare, nothing. Hell, most were pretty sure that he had died, that he had gotten himself entangled in a firefight and as a result, was rotting in some random ditch out in the middle of nowhere.
The simple fact of the matter was this. He couldn't understand him, but felt like he was close. And for him that was enough. The current situation at hand demanded his total attention, and yet here he was, musing about some random guy from the past. Some random old guy that was now, living on in his memories…Well, correction, he was now currently alive, and most probably with the Kapitan right now as everyone crowded around him. And he was gonna fix that, he was going to finish this once and for all, and finally end this decade old case by getting that man out of his life, by any means necessary.
He blinked once before he spoke. His eyes saw the back of the man that had disappeared all those years ago clearly, even with the crowd all around him. Even though he had imagined it as his mind playing tricks on him, he still nonetheless perceived it as a challenge. A challenge that he was determined to emerge victorious at.
"Makarov." He said clearly and loudly, causing everyone around him to stop speaking as they observed him now, a slight growl could be found lingering in his voice
"Yeah?"
"Get me the Bloodhound of Florencia."
"..." A slight pause, before Makarov answers.
"...You got it. Lieutenant."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rock peered through the cheap apartments window shutters as the flickering sounds of tv channels changing constantly filled in the background, taking note of the eerie silence that he observed. Not a single person in sight, just silence and nothingness. A grin broke through his face as he had never ever recalled feeling or even having anything remotely similar to this happening to him before. He couldn't help it, deep inside, a small twinge of excitement managed to slice through all of the fear and self preservation instincts.
Now and then small flashes of gunfire could be both heard and seen within the city before momentarily dying down again, only to be accompanied with the shrill screams of an ambulance siren. It was as if death had its eyes upon the city, eagerly watching, anxiously waiting for the moment when someone slips up and ends up in a situation where they end up meeting it. A situation that ends up repeating over and over again within the city.
His lit cigarette slowly burned out as he wondered if he was gonna see it. Death, that is. Along with his pet that people seem to be calling the beast. Well, he had already technically seen death so many times now with his own eyes, and the "beast" as they called him seemed to just be another guy when he saw and spoke to him briefly. But hey, things change, and there's always an exception. ALWAYS.
"I don't know why you keep looking out the window, nothing's going to change Moron." A sharp voice rang out, causing him to simply shrug his shoulders as that grin changed to a defeated smile.
"Well what do you want me to do then Revy? I can't go out, I already have the daily paper, and there's nothing good on tv. Nothing much for me to do but to bum around and smoke, and now I can't even look out the window?" He asked smugly, playfully trying to tease her as he turned around to look at her on the couch now, still flipping through channels on the tv with a bored expression.
"Well you can always try to sleep, jackass." She said in a fed up tone, still focused on flipping through the tv channels. Causing him to smirk in response.
"I'm sorry Revy, but you do know that NORMAL human beings don't normally sleep with the sound of gunfire constantly sounding in the background right?" He asked, now leaning against the window, slightly crumpling the window binds as a result as he focused entirely on her.
"You've clearly never been to New York then." She quipped back, causing him to chuckle as he observed her picking her nose with her pinky.
"Another reason to love New York city I guess." He stated, taking another drag from his cigarette.
Knock Knock.
He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the front door, they had visitors. Making eye contact with Revy, he nodded his head as he promptly took cover behind the nearest piece of furniture that he could, in this case being the sofa. Looking at Revy, she was already hugging the wall next to the door, ready to blow the brains out of anyone who tried to breach. Her grim expression never changed as she held out one of her cutlasses in anticipation for battle.
A moment of silence filled the air as he peeked from the sofa to the front door. Nothing. Looking at Revy, she didn't even bother to look back at him, her focus entirely on and only on the front door. Gulping, he found himself unconsciously holding his breath as the seconds ticked by on the proverbial clock.
Knock.
Another knock causes him to flinch as he watches Revy gripped her pistol grips even tighter.
"Hello? Is anybody there? Black lagoon company? My master would like to thank you one last time before we return back to the old country." A familiar voice spoke up, causing him to release his bated breath.
It was Fabiola.
Opening the door, Revy kept the cutlass in her other hand as she cautiously opened the door, her pistol never leaving the center mass of the entrance to their office.
Only once the door fully opened, gently bouncing against the wall did she lower her cutlass. Much to the chagrin of Fabiola and Garcia who were directly facing the muzzle of a highly customized nine millimeter handgun. Except for Roberta, she merely eyed Revy with an unamused expression as she kept her grip tight on her suit case's carry handle.
"A-apologies for that, the whole city is in a tizzy you see…" Rock started, trying to explain himself as they let themselves in, cutting him off as Garcia softly waved his hand at him, setting down a brief case between the two of them.
"Your payment. The trio's payment is in there too. We WOULD hand it to them ourselves, but there's just no time. Sorry." Garcia sheepishly apologized, causing Revy to smirk as she leaned against the wall. Observing them in a much more relaxed stance now.
"Well would you look at that, doing something rational for once, I must say, you've actually managed to get some sense knocked into that head of yours." She taunted, causing Roberta to look at her with eyes full of scorn.
"I'm really sorry, you helped us with this massive problem and we can't even thank you properly-" Garcia started, only to this time get cut off by Roberta.
"You have our eternal gratitude Black lagoon company. But as the young master here said, there is no time to spare. This city is a keg full of powder, just waiting to explode, and to blow us all up along with it…An unpleasant city indeed." She spoke softly, Revy to smirk as she quipped intp the conversation.
"That's where you're wrong, the city was always a powder keg, only this time a lit match dropped on the fuse…and nobody has put it out. "
"Exactly." Another voice joined in, causing everyone to look at the front door.
Standing directly at the entrance, was a member of Hotel Moscow. A serious expression on his face as he faced them, despite the many guns that were now beset on him by Revy, Fabiola and Roberta.
"...Except, you, Bloodhound of Florencia, will be the one to do so."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"How in the hell are you able to even walk?" The medic tending to me injuries asked me with a gaping mouth as he poked and prodded around my chest, causing me to wince in pain as it took everything within me to not smack him upside the head for that.
"It's not THAT bad. A week or two and I should be up and running." I replied, causing him to only shake his head vigorously as he looked me right in the eyes.
"No, the hell you are! This type of injury should have you bedridden for MONTHS! The hell are you smoking?"
"Tobacco." I replied flatly, much to my amusement as he frowned at this answer.
Look back during the war, whenever I got fucked up, the doctors would patch me up and give me at the VERY most a week to recover. It's not my fault that I got used to fighting while still holding in massive amounts of pain as I do so. I mean, it hurts like hell, that's an undeniable truth, but I can't really laze around now can I? It's literally do or die now, and I don't really want to die…At least most of the time that is.
"Look Doctor, shit happens, can you just give me the Morphine or whatever you have in stock? What you say is true. I am, without a shadow of doubt, in immense pain right now. And I do believe that my adrenaline has run its course." I ask, holding back a grunt as he wraps a bandage around my shoulder.
"Morphine…Isn't going to help you." He replies as he begins bandaging another part of my upper chest area.
"....Only sleep and a lot of rest will." He finished bandaging, applying a lot of force as he did so.
Gah! Shit man that hurts! You're damn lucky that I'm breaking out tonight or otherwise you would be out cold on the floor right now!
"Come on doctor, I'm really hurting, can't you at the very least spare something?"
"...Sigh…" He sighed before turning around to grab a pill bottle.
"Take these SPARINGLY, As in when the pain is unbearable and you can't take it anymore."
"What, that's it? Where's my Morphine?"
"That is in fact it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't give you anything better. Everything is being stockpiled for the attack on Roanapur. An attack that you SHOULDN'T even be participating in. If you really want Morphine, just hold out until then. I'm sure there would be no shortage of militants eager to give the "Beast of Panjshir" A stick of Morphine from their kit if asked. After all, you're a living, breathing legend to them." He replies, taking the chance to light up a cigarette as he goes for a drag.
"Well then, can a living, breathing legend bum a cigarette?" I ask, almost salivating at the sight of my beloved tobacco chan.
"..." He looks at me with a raised brow. Before sighing as he pulls out another cigarette from his little pack and hands it to me. His hands go for his lighter the moment my fingers grasp my one true love in this shitty godforsaken world.
I eagerly wait while he flicks his lighter, my eyes on the bright little flame, never once leaving it as I watch it slowly burn the head of my freshly bummed cigarette. Ugh, I almost shivered in excitement there, it's been far too long to smoke tobacco chan!
"You know, these will kill you…you do know that right?" He asks as he watches me take a well deserved, almost cartoonish drag.
"Yeah yeah, Cancer and all that, but to be honest, dying of cancer is one of the best ways to go, for guys like me at least."
"Oho, now that is a surprise, I never would have thought that the Beast of Panjishir would ever utter such words." He replies with a renewed interest, slouching now as he sizes me up for whatever reason.
"Yeah well, it was and still is a surprise that I'm still even alive, so what can I say?" I ask rhetorically, my eyes closed as I savor the intake of Nicotine flowing into my body.
"Hoh, and you're humble. Anything else?" he asks with a chuckle.
"Pft, humble? If I was humble, I sure as hell wouldn't be here." I say with a smirk.
"I'm here to fight, nothing more, nothing less. So tell me, would a humble man only fight for the fight itself? Or would he fight for something else?"
"Heh, you don't cease to surprise. You know, honestly when I came to treat you, I honestly thought that you would be more of the…how do I say this? Rugged, lone wolf type? You know, the ones that never talk, never friendly, like that."
"Oh? And what makes you think I'm being friendly?"
"Hoh? How are you not being friendly right now? We're having a pleasant conversation are we not?"
"I'm many things, but being friendly isn't one of them. For you see, being friendly gets a lot of men killed. And I'd rather avoid that. No, my attitude and treatment towards you isn't one of friendliness. It's one of respect. After all, you're the doctor. And the doctor is one of the few people that you DON'T disrespect. And besides, who says that you have to be friends with someone in order to have a conversation with them?" I reply…god it feels good to actually converse with someone who ISN'T trying to kill me for once.
"Heh, you haven't had the chance to talk much have you?"
"Tell me about it, I was starting to slightly get concerned that I was getting rusty throughout all of the fighting." I say with a self satisfied smirk, feeling like I've achieved a small achievement of sorts. The petty and useless kind, but still an achievement nonetheless.
"You know, for such a legendary figure, you're quite pleasant and fascinating to talk to… How odd."
"Odd? How so? Just because I can fight doesn't mean that I can't talk now can I?"
"Fair point. I'll give you that, guess you should never judge a book by its cover huh?
"You got that right. But speaking about books with covers… What's your story? How did you get here? Why did you get here? Everybody has a story, and not a single one of them is quite the same I've come to conclude."
"Hah, you got that right. I was a normal doctor. Regular pay didn't cut it, so I took to treating…those whose occupation did not allow for them to appear in the hospital if you get my meaning…Eventually I got caught…I ran, and I ended up here. And as to why I'm here…well, for one, the pay's good, and two, as long as I stick with these guys, my chances of being sent to prison go drastically down."
"These guys really that good for you to say that?" I ask with a raised brow after I take another drag.
"Pft, no. These guys are lazy and corrupt as all hell! When I first came here through the western side of the camp, these bastards tried to extort what little money I had left! And the kicker was this, they were sitting flat on their asses the entire time! Hell, I'm pretty sure one of the guards that tried to extort me didn't even lift his gun properly, he was just limply holding it!"
"Pft." Alright, that was funny that gets a snicker outta me.
"The only thing they got going for them is numbers. Other than that, these lazy morons only move their asses for meal time and bedtime. Hell, the east side of the camp is nearly empty with overgrown foliage because, and I quote "There were to many mosquitoes there.""
"...Where the hell did the boss of this operation get these guys? They sound incompetent as all hell." I say with genuine disdain, these guys actually sound like morons.
"I know right? I ask myself the same questions everyday."
"Well, looks like I have quite a lot of work to do then, if I want to make this operation work that is."
"Heh, good luck at that! You're gonna need it!"
"Yeah well, i'm disappointed to say that i'm all to used to fuck ups. So I won't be needing luck. What I need however is patience, and I seem to find a lot of patience within a cigarette…more specifically a PACK of cigarettes." I say, forcing a fake cough as I look at him with a raised brow.
"...You know, for a supposed beast that destroys everything in its path, I never would have imagined you to be so cheeky."